Night Over Water - Ken Follett [79]
“Do you know anything about planes?” she asked skeptically.
He shrugged. “Engines are engines.”
She realized that if he could take a motorcycle to pieces he might be able to fix an airplane engine.
The smith went on: “However, it sounds to me as if I might be too late.”
Nancy frowned. Then she heard what he had noticed: the sound of an airplane. Could it be the Tiger Moth? She ran outside and looked up into the sky. Sure enough, the little yellow plane was flying low over the hamlet.
Lovesey had fixed it—and he had taken off without waiting for her!
She gazed up unbelievingly. How could he do this to her? He even had her overnight case!
The plane swooped low over the hamlet, as if to mock her. She shook her fist at it. Lovesey waved to her and then climbed away.
She watched the plane recede. The smith and the peasant woman were standing beside her. “He’s leaving without you,” the smith said.
“He’s a heartless fiend.”
“Is it your husband?”
“Certainly not!”
“Just as well, I suppose.”
Nancy felt sick. Two men had betrayed her today. Was there something wrong with her? she wondered.
She thought she might as well give up. She could not catch the Clipper now. Peter would sell the company to Nat Ridgeway, and that would the end of it.
The plane banked and turned. Lovesey was setting course for Foynes, she presumed. He would catch up with his runaway wife. Nancy hoped she would refuse to go back to him.
Unexpectedly, the plane kept on turning. When it was pointing toward the hamlet it straightened up. What was he doing now?
It came in along the line of the mud road, losing height. Why was he coming back? As the plane approached, Nancy began to wonder whether he was going to land. Was the engine faltering again?
The little plane touched down on the mud road and bounced along toward the three people outside the blacksmith’s house.
Nancy almost fainted with relief. He had come back for her!
The plane shuddered to a halt in front of her. Mervyn shouted something she could not make out.
“What?” she yelled.
Impatiently, he beckoned to her. She ran up to the plane. He leaned toward her and shouted: “What are you waiting for? Get in!”
She looked at her watch. It was a quarter to three. They could still make it to Foynes in time. Her spirits bounded with optimism again. I’m not finished yet! she thought.
The young blacksmith came up with a twinkle in his eye and shouted: “Let me help you up.” He made a step with his linked hands. She put her muddy bare foot on it and he boosted her up. She scrambled into her seat.
The plane pulled away immediately.
A few seconds later they were in the air.
CHAPTER NINE
Mervyn Lovesey’s wife was very happy.
Diana had been frightened when the Clipper took off, but now she felt nothing but elation.
She had not flown before. Mervyn had never invited her to go up in his little plane, even though she had spent days painting it a lovely bright yellow for him. She discovered that, once you got over the nervousness, it was a terrific thrill to be this high in the air, in something like a first-class hotel with wings, looking down on England’s pastures and comfields, roads and railways, houses and churches and factories. She felt free. She was free. She had left Mervyn and run away with Mark.
Last night, at the South-Western Hotel in Southampton, they had registered as Mr. and Mrs. Alder and had spent their first whole night together. They had made love, then gone to sleep, then woken up in the morning and made love again. It seemed such a luxury, after three months of short afternoons and snatched kisses.
Flying the Clipper was like living in a movie. The decor was opulent, the people were elegant, the two stewards were quietly efficient, everything happened on cue as if it were scripted, and there were famous faces everywhere. There was Baron Gabon, the wealthy Zionist, always in intense discussion with his haggard companion. The Marquis of Oxenford, the famous Fascist, was on board with his beautiful wife. Princess Lavinia Bazarov, one of the pillars