In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

“Come on, this way!” Jeremy called, and as if he were the Pied Piper, they followed him through to the kitchen. “It’s a bit tricky, but we’ll manage,” he shouted back over the drone of approaching aircraft. “I used to do it all the time.” He pushed up the window, climbed out onto a narrow parapet. Others followed. Ben went first, then helped Mavis, who proved to be agile and fearless. Along the parapet they went and then up a short ladder to a flat roof above. Once there, they laughed at their own bravado and clinked champagne glasses. Jeremy went down and reappeared with the gramophone, and “In the Mood” blasted out. Some revellers started dancing.

Around them, London lay in darkness, but above, searchlights strafed the sky, making barrage balloons suddenly sparkle as they were caught in the beam. Big Ben was highlighted, and then disappeared again. And then the shape of approaching aircraft, flying in formation. To the south came the staccato sound of ack-ack guns, punctuated with the deeper boom as a bomb was dropped. The bombs must have been incendiaries because fires had now broken out across the river.

A girl jumped up on the parapet that ran around the rim of the roof.

“We’re not afraid of you, Mr. Hitler! Do your worst!” she shouted, waving her champagne glass at the sky. A bomb fell nearer now, then another, shattering the calm of the night with deep booms that could almost be felt rather than heard. Then they heard explosions close by, and fire rose beyond the blackness of trees.

“What is that big building?” the girl on the parapet said.

“They’ve hit the palace!” someone shouted. “Oh God, they’ve hit the palace.”

Ben felt his heart jerk. Was this the promised attack, the one they had been warned of? The Royal Fireworks music? The deposing of a king? The palace is huge, he told himself. The royal family would be safely in the basement. They might have damaged a few rooms, but they couldn’t make the whole place burn down . . .

The first wave of aircraft was now overhead. Responding gunfire sent bright traces into the night, coming from close by in Hyde Park. Another bomb, closer now.

“That was around St. James’s,” one of the men said. “Getting too close for comfort.”

“Don’t be such a ninny,” a girl behind Ben replied. It sounded like Trixie. “We’re not going down. We’re not going to show them that we’re scared. We need Jeremy to bring us some more champagne. Where is he?”

Ben looked around and didn’t see him. Then Pamela tugged at his sleeve. “Where is Dido? I can’t see her,” she whispered.

“Perhaps she was afraid and went back down,” he said.

Pamela shook her head. “When have you ever known Dido to be afraid?”

“I’ll come and help you look for her,” Ben said. “Don’t worry. She’s probably only gone to the loo.” He turned to Mavis. “Be right back.”

Then he helped Pamela down the ladder and along the parapet. Not that she needed help. She walked with that same confidence he remembered from their tree-climbing days. He was just assisting her to climb in through the window when there was a whistling sound, a flash, a boom, and a blast that almost knocked him over. A building across the street burst into flames. Glass and debris came flying at them. He shoved Pamela inside, shielding her.

“Were we hit?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“No. Across the street.”

They could hear shouting from the roof and a man’s voice saying, “Get down from here, now. This is madness.”

As they emerged from the kitchen, a door at the end of the hall opened and Dido came flying out. She was wearing only her slip and her hair was in disarray. “Have we been bombed?” she asked. “The windows just blew in. Oh my God. There is glass everywhere.”

“It’s all right. It’s across the street.” Jeremy came to join her. He was holding a towel around his waist.

Pamela looked at them, then said in a clipped voice, “Dido, get dressed now. I’m taking you home.” She looked at Ben. “Do you think there will be a train at this time of night?”

“You might catch the last train if you hurry,” he said. “If you miss it, you can come back to my place. I’ll go and find a taxi.”

Other people were now climbing in through the kitchen window, laughing a little too loudly, as those who have escaped danger often do.

“More champagne,” a male voice commanded. “Bartender! Give us your best.”

Jeremy had also gone back into the dark room, but emerged again, having hastily put on a shirt and trousers but no jacket and tie. “Of course. Drinks all around,” he said with forced gaiety. As he passed Pamela, he touched her sleeve. “Pamma, I can explain . . .”

She shook him loose. “Don’t touch me!” she said coldly. “Can we go now, please, Ben?”

Then she remembered. “I must just tell Trixie that I have to go, and I’ll see her tomorrow. Someone will take her to the station.”

At that moment, Ben remembered Mavis. He pushed through the stream of guests to her. “Look, something has come up and I have to take somebody home now,” he said. “I’m frightfully sorry. Can I drop you at the station, or would you rather stay on?”

She looked confused. “I don’t know. Is the party over? There’s no train at this time of night.”

“You could come back to my place, but . . .”

Her gaze went to Pamela standing rock still behind him. “I get the picture. I expect I’ll be all right. I’m a big girl.”

“No, it’s not like that,” he said. “I promise you. And I’m really sorry, it’s just that . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Guy appeared at his side. “A spot of bother?” he asked.

“Actually, yes. Could you look after Mavis and make sure she gets to the station safely?”

“Of course,” Guy said. “But what are you doing?”

“Pamela and Diana Sutton need to leave now. Diana’s not feeling well. I’ll tell you later.”

“All right, old chap. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be a perfect Boy Scout.” Guy gave him a grin.

Dido emerged from the bedroom fully clothed. Her lipstick was smudged, and her hair still looked unkempt.

“Into the lift, now!” Pamela commanded.

Dido looked at her sister defiantly. “You wouldn’t give him what he wanted, so I did,” she said, then stalked past Pamela with her head held high.

Ben heard Jeremy shouting from inside the room, “Nobody needs to leave. A couple of broken windows are not going to spoil our party. Besides, we don’t want to get in the way of fire engines and ARP workers. So let’s keep going and have eggs and bacon at dawn as I promised. I have real bacon, people. Think of that!”

The lift doors closed, and they went down in silence.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


London


Ben found a taxi outside the Dorchester, and they sped to Victoria Station. Beyond the darkness of the parks, fires were burning.

“They got Buckingham Palace again, the buggers,” the cabby said. “Blimey, I hope we pay them back. Make them suffer for this. I wouldn’t spare a single man, woman, or child if I were Mr. Churchill.”

“Is the damage bad?” Ben asked.

“I ain’t seen it myself,” the cabby replied. “They’ve got the road blocked off, ain’t they? But you could certainly see the flames.”

They passed Hyde Park Corner and headed down Grosvenor Place. Dido stared out the window, not saying a word.

“Will you both go back to Kent now?” Ben asked.

“I have to be at work in the morning,” Pamela said. “I think there are trains on the main line all night. Besides I couldn’t trust myself not to hurl her out of the train.”