Free A Song At Twilight by Lilian Harry Page A

cousin in the Navy. He went down in the Hood . My aunt, his mother, died soon afterwards. She was widowed in the ’flu epidemic in 1918 and he was the only child. She just didn’t seem to be able to go on living.’
    Ben could find nothing to say. Behind every death, there must be an equally tragic story. It wasn’t just the men – the soldiers, the sailors, the airmen – who lost their lives, it was the huge gap they left behind, in the lives of those who loved them. And some of those people would never recover.
    ‘I know a girl whose fiancé was killed,’ he said after a minute or two. ‘She was pregnant – they’d been going to get married, but he went away without even knowing about the baby. Her parents turned her out and she came to live with my people as a maid.’
    ‘I suppose she had to give the baby away,’ Tony observed. ‘That’s what usually happens, isn’t it?’
    ‘No, she didn’t, as it happens. She kept it – it’s a little girl – and they’re still with my father and mother.’ Ben hesitated. ‘I’m her godfather, actually. She’s rather a nice girl – the mother, I mean. And Hope’s a little sweetheart.’
    Tony gave him a curious look, but before either could speak again, Andrew came over, bringing a tall, fair-haired man in the uniform of a Polish pilot. He was very upright and correct, standing almost to attention as he came to a halt beside their chairs.
    ‘This is Stefan Dabrowski,’ Andrew said, and they stood up to shake hands. ‘He’s joining the squadron.’ He didn’t need to add, in Tubby’s place . The three men nodded at each other and sought for something to say.
    ‘Have you been in England long?’ Ben asked at last.
    ‘Since just after the beginning of the war. As soon as Hitler invaded, we came here so that we could fight him and win back our country.’ His English was very precise and he spoke with a quiet purpose that slightly startled Ben. He was used to the jovial bravado of the British and Canadian pilots he had met, with their breezy enjoyment of flying, as if it were still all rather a game, despite the fact that the ‘game’ was deadly enough to kill their fellow pilots on a regular basis, and he shared their desire to score as many ‘kills’ as possible. But this Pole seemed to have a deeper motivation. It was as if he understood more than Ben about war and its meaning.
    ‘I can’t imagine what that would be like,’ Ben said at last. ‘Losing your country, I mean. I know we’re fighting to stop Hitler invading us, and I know he’s nearly done it once or twice, but he’s not succeeded and I hope to God he doesn’t. But for you …’
    Stefan Dabrowski nodded. ‘It’s different when you have seen your neighbours overrun, and know that it’s your turn next. The march of jackboots through your streets – the raiding and the killing, having nowhere to hide.’ His pale, ice-grey eyes glittered. ‘I mean to kill as many of them as I can,’ he said quietly. ‘And so do my friends. They may have taken our country from us, but we shall take it back, and with interest.’
    There was a brief silence, then Andrew said, ‘And good luck to you, Stefan. Now, the reason I’ve brought you to meet these two characters is partly to get it over with as quickly as possible, and partly to invite you all to my house for a bit of a knees-up on Saturday night. It’s time you saw civilisation again. My wife’s going to lay on some bread and jam, maybe a sausage or two, and we’ll put on some music and roll up the carpet for some dancing. Not that there’s much room, but I dare say you won’t mind having to cuddle up a bit.’
    ‘So long as you ask some girls as well,’ Robin Fairbanks observed, joining them with a pint in his hand. ‘I’m not cuddling up to any of these oiks.’
    ‘Oh, there’ll be girls,’ Andrew said airily. ‘I’m asking a few of the WAAFs. But no hanky-panky, mind. This is to be a refined party, not the sort of brawl