The Aurora Review

Fall 2004


An Old Friend of the Family

Page 2 of 3

 

   
“People get terribly excited about that sort of thing nowadays but there was nothing “abusive
’’ about it. Nobody was taking advantage. Nobody was forced. I was young and desperate for it. Nothing would have stopped me. Thought of nothing else. Woke up in the morning thinking about it, went to bed dreaming about it. My whole life was a fruitless quest for it, constantly wondering what it would be like and whether I could make a job of it.

   
“She’d been around the house for years. Everybody knew her. Mother had known her from childhood. Not that that says much. You know my mother was just 19 years older than me. Hardly seems any time now but one accepts that one’s mother has always been there. Hadn’t of course, not like this old house.’’ Ginger looked round the shadowed drawing room with a mix of love and pride. “This old place is part of the landscape, it grows out of it. The old red bricks are made of it and those big old trees have their roots down under the Roman road. Marvelous place. Good old house.’’

   
He raised his glass in a toast to his home and said: “There seems to be some law of nature that says the summer before a war has to be a scorcher. It’s like a last gift to us, to remind us what we might have if we weren’t so intent on giving it all up for such foolishness. That last summer Lady Elaine found me down at the Hunter’s Pool. I used to go there and swim -- never bothered with a costume of course. Grandfather kept the place closed to the public except at the weekends when they could pay their shilling and wander round.
  
“And that was where I saw her, standing watching me when I came out of the water. There was nothing strange about it. I had always known her. There was no awkwardness. I saw her standing there amidst the trees in that green dress, something soft and floaty like chiffon, I suppose, and it drifted round her so it looked as if she had grown out of the woods and she looked at me with those eyes of hers and, well, you can guess the rest. That pool was damned cold but she got the response she was looking for.
   
“But it was later, back here at the house in my bedroom overlooking the kennels. I had the window wide open and it was gasping hot and she just came in moving so soft and quiet and we made love. She enveloped me, such softness folding round me, taking me in, finding her completely. And then, at the end, the old house wanted to join in too. There were timbers groaning, windows rattling, even the slates on the roof over my room seemed to pulse like the scales on a dragon and, when it was over, the sky darkened and a sudden summer storm hit us, those first big drops of rain that splashed so heavily on my windowsill and then the downpour. I got up to close the window and I looked out at the trees dancing in the park. When I turned back, Lady Elaine was gone.
   
“I went down to dinner that evening and Grandfather looked at me a little queer. I wonder if he knew. Often wondered if he knew. Of course he knew.
 
“And that was it. I never saw Lady Elaine again that summer and then it was September and the war came and I went off to do my bit. I was in Bomber Command. Lancs. Navigator. Buried away deep inside. Sticking my head out to get a sighting every once in a while, if the flack wasn’t too thick.’’
   
Ginger turned quiet then and I caught him gazing at the little silver plane on the mantle piece. “Tough?’’ I ventured.
   
“Pretty tough, I suppose. But I had it lucky. Got through the whole lot. Lots didn’t. By the end there were hundreds of us -- we were over Germany like flies. But they kept coming. As long as they had planes, they would fly at us and the flack was constant. That never stopped.

“And we’d see planes going down. Sometimes they just blew up, sometimes they went down in flames, sometimes they were just knocked out of the formation and falling out of the sky. I remember chaps still on the air -- chaps we’d been in the Mess with at breakfast -- dropping, just dropping and screaming for their mothers all the way down. When that happened I flicked the switch on the radio. Nothing to be done for the poor buggers, God bless them.
   
“I’ll tell you this. I was bloody glad of Lady Elaine then. Lots of those boys were blown to bits and never even kissed a girl but I had her to look back on. I wasn’t going to die a virgin.
   
“Finally it was our turn. Flack right in the cockpit. It must have torn through the plane like a rocket. She stood on her tail, tipped right over and started to dive. We were tumbling out of the sky. Nobody left up there to order us out but I didn't have to be told. You can't imagine how tight it was in there. Even when the plane was on the ground there was barely room to move but we were clawing our way down the gangway to the hatch with everything heaving like a roller coaster. Crawling, climbing, rolling, falling. I had no idea which way was up. I had no idea which way I was going. I was banging off every surface like a pea in a drum and that bloody chute was dragging along with me. So narrow.
No room.
   
“And then Lady Elaine was standing there in front of me, right in the hatch, that long green dress lashing all around her, hair flying like whips in the wind. She had her hand stretched out to me with such a look of love and concern in her eyes and suddenly I was not afraid any more. I was going to die. I knew it. I accepted it. You see, Lady Elaine has come for the eldest sons of all our family for generations. She stood on the bell tower and shrieked when my father got it three days before the Armistice, in the middle of the night -- a scream like a wounded tigress that went on for ten minutes. Half the portraits on the stair fell off the wall, the hounds in the kennels joined in the howl, but I slept through it, apparently. Never even stirred in my cradle. Mother did. She knew what it meant. Sat bolt upright in bed and wept and Grandfather, of course, he knew.’’

continued


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