African Sky (18 page)

Pip mingled her way through the trailing crowd until she was beside Bryant. It wasn't hard to get to him. For all the strength of his performance in the chapel, it was clear that in day-to-day life he was something of a loner. While other instructors and trainees huddled in preordained cliques, smoking cigarettes and chatting, Bryant remained at the edge of Felicity's grave, staring down at the coffin.

‘That was a moving speech,' Pip said as she came up beside him.

He didn't look around. ‘It's an old one. I used to give it to my crew, and the others in my flight.'

‘It had an effect,' she said.

He laughed, short and sharp, finally turning to look at her. ‘Well, that'll be the first time then. These stupid bastards will still fly off into the blue yonder chasing herds of bloody wildebeest and zebras across the veldt until they realise, too late, they're lost, or they'll fly too low trying to impress some pretty girl, or they'll bloody crash-land on a farm where they're hoping to bed the farmer's daughter. Nothing I say sinks in.'

‘You're too hard on yourself. That's your problem,' she said. ‘Fancy a drink?'

‘Too bloody right I do.'

They followed the crowd, walking down the edge of the concrete runway away from the cemetery until they came to an open hangar. In front of a parked Harvard, trestle tables had been laid out and white-jacketed African mess stewards were having trouble flicking the caps off bottles of Lion lager fast enough to fill the outstretched hands of officers and airmen.

‘Any excuse for a piss-up,' Bryant said.

‘A wake's as good a way as any to say goodbye to a loved one,' Pip said.

‘If I'd been to a wake for every bloke I've known who died in the last couple of years, I'd be dead of alcohol poisoning by now,' he said.

She smiled. She knew that black humour was a way of coping with
tragedy. Policemen, she'd noticed, were the same. The worse the accident or murder, the more coarse and inappropriate the jokes. ‘Did you mean that, about Felicity, I mean?'

‘What, that I wonder if I could have done more?'

‘Yes.'

‘Of course I did. I knew she was being ostracised by Susannah and the other girls, that she was getting too big for her breeches and antagonising them with her fame. I could have reined her in a bit – maybe put an end to her circus antics with the parachute displays. Maybe then she would have decided to live on base, instead of off it, been one of the girls, so to speak.'

She nodded, then casually said: ‘Funny, when I first asked you, you weren't sure whether she lived on or off base.'

He looked at her, then closed his eyes.

She sensed he was fighting back other emotions this time.

‘Two beers,' he said to the steward as they finally reached the tables, whose white draping was already stained with spilt beer and beginning to fill with empties. He took the bottles and a glass for her. ‘Come with me, away from this lot.'

She followed in silence, looking over her shoulder, searching for Hayes. She couldn't see him anywhere.

‘You want the truth?' he said. They were outside the hangar now, the hot sun stinging the tops of their heads and shoulders. There were still airmen in sight, hanging around, smoking and drinking, though out of earshot.

‘Of course,' she replied.

‘I suppose it's all right, since you've caught the bloke who killed her.'

She had said nothing to him about Nkomo's alibi, or her growing suspicion that the evidence had been planted in the petrol-seller's car, probably by the real killer. She felt her pulse quicken with excitement.

‘We were . . . intimate, Felicity and I.'

She
knew
it. She had so many more questions for him now, and her mind reeled with them. ‘Why didn't you tell me?' was all she could put into words, immediately regretting the tone she had used. It was as if
she were offended, personally insulted that he had not trusted her enough to tell the truth. Damn, that had come out all wrong.

‘Why do you reckon? I could tell from your questioning that you thought whoever killed Flick must have known her. Why put myself in the box seat and end up being dragged down to the station by you and Sergeant No-Neck?'

Despite herself, she smiled briefly at his succinct characterisation of her colleague. ‘You've been trying to cover up those first few lies ever since you told them.'

‘Guilty,' he said.

And you had no alibi for the night Felicity was killed – none we could check, anyway.'

‘Right again. I got drunk, as I do most nights, in my own room, on base, reading a book, then fell asleep, fully clothed, until I woke at dawn the next morning.'

‘Tell me about you and Felicity.'

He took a long pull on his beer, then reached down and lifted his right trouser leg. Pip stepped back in alarm.

‘Don't worry, it's not a knife or a gun.' He pulled a crumpled packet of cigarettes from the inside of his khaki sock. ‘When you're in parade dress you're not supposed to have anything that shows through your pockets and ruins the line of the uniform. Bloody uncomfortable walking around with a pack of cigarettes on your ankle, though.' He offered a cigarette, but she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. He lit his. ‘Things are going on in this war that are so unlike anything that's ever happened before, you start to wonder whether they're true or if they were a dream.'

‘It's a different world today, that's for sure,' she agreed, wondering where he was heading.

‘That's how it was with me and Felicity.'

‘Different?'

‘Unlike anything I've experienced. Look, despite being Australian, I actually used to be something of a gentleman – before the war, at least. I'm not one to brag about my private life, if you know what I mean.'

‘Nothing you can say will shock me, Paul,' she said. She silently cursed herself again, this time for using his Christian name. It had been a slip. Despite her assertion about being unshockable, she suddenly thought that she did not want to hear what had gone on between him and another woman. Perhaps she should have involved Hayes.

‘It's not my aim to shock you, but it's complicated, what there was between me and Flick. It was . . . it wasn't like a normal relationship.'

‘Complicated?'

‘Paul, dear Paul! There you are!' gushed Catherine De Beers as she barged between Pip and Bryant and kissed him on the cheek.

Pip took a step back. She noticed Bryant looking around, as though uncomfortable at the thought someone might think he and Catherine De Beers were anything other than professional acquaintances.

‘Hello,' Catherine said. ‘Patricia, isn't it?'

‘Philippa. Pip. How are you holding up, Mrs De Beers?'

‘Catherine, please. What can I say? My best friend in the whole world is now lying under six feet of dirt at the end of an airstrip. Would you like a drink? They've nothing but beer at the bar.'

Pip smelled alcohol on the other woman's breath. Catherine reached into a black shoulder bag and extracted a pewter hipflask. ‘Brandy,' she said. ‘All that's kept me going the last couple of days.'

‘No thanks,' Pip said.

‘Paul, join me in a drink?'

‘I'll stick with beer, thanks. You're not driving home this evening?'

‘Not to the ranch, no. I'll stay in town at –'

‘At the place where Felicity was living?' Pip asked. ‘During our investigation we discovered that you own the house Miss Langham lived in.'

‘Discovered?
All anyone had to do was ask. It was no great secret Flick and I were friends. Well, after tonight I won't be needing that house at all. I'll probably sell it.'

Pip noticed that Catherine was slurring her words a little. She stayed standing close to Bryant, almost but not quite touching him, as if she needed his close physical presence to support her.

‘You won't be coming into town any more?' Bryant asked.

‘I won't be coming to this part of the country any more. I'm leaving the ranch and getting rid of the town house. I've decided to move back to Salisbury.'

The surprise showed on his face. ‘What? When?'

‘I'm driving back to the ranch tomorrow, and then leaving for good on Monday, as a matter of fact,' she said to him.

‘Why the rush?'

She looked him in the eyes and said: ‘I think you know. There's nothing here for me now, Paul.'

‘But your things, surely you can't pack that quickly. Give yourself time to –'

‘My staff are packing as we speak. I'm going to stay in an hotel in Salisbury – Meikles – and then with friends until my things arrive.'

‘Catherine, I hate to interrupt, but I was hoping to have a chat with Paul before I leave.'

‘Don't mind me,' Catherine said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Bryant got between the two women, and said to Pip: ‘Actually, I also need to talk to you about the search for our missing kite – poor old Smythe's Harvard. We've heard nothing from the coppers across the border, and our aerial searches haven't found a thing. I wouldn't mind going out to the place, just to see if there's something the locals have missed.'

‘I'll make some calls this afternoon,' she said. ‘You'll want to drive across the border?' She realised her gaffe as soon as she'd said the words. She didn't mean to dredge up his reluctance to fly, not in front of Catherine.

‘Yes,' he said. The brief flash of embarrassment was plain for her to see. ‘The drive will take a couple of days, which means I won't be able to go until later next week, after all of the flap over Jan Smuts' visit is over.'

‘The Prime Minister of South Africa's coming to the parade?' Pip asked.

‘You hadn't heard?' Catherine interjected. ‘It's the worst-kept secret in Bulawayo. Smuts and Huggy are both coming.' Sir Godfrey Martin
Huggins – Huggy, as he was known to his supporters – had been the prime minister of Southern Rhodesia for the past ten years, and showed no signs of flagging in that office. ‘Poor Paul and his men have been painting rocks and marching to and fro in preparation for weeks. I'm only sorry I won't be there to see it.' Pip noted another heavy dose of sarcasm.

It was the first Pip had heard about the dignitaries' visit. She imagined, though, that others at the police camp were involved in the planning for it. It irked her a little she had found out this way. She wondered if Hayes had been trusted with the information. Smuts had fought the British during the Boer War, but had made his peace with his foes at the cessation of hostilities and gone on to serve as a general in command of South African forces during the First World War. Under his leadership, South Africa was ostensibly a strong supporter of England's war and the Empire, although Pip knew there were many Afrikaners who would have rather have aligned themselves with the Swastika than the Union Jack. Having said that, there were thousands of South Africans of all backgrounds fighting the Germans and their allies.

‘It's a big deal,' Bryant said. ‘This is our biggest course so far, so the politicians are clamouring to be a part of it.'

‘I'll be in Salisbury by then,' Catherine said, ‘so you can give my invitation to someone else.' She looked across pointedly at Pip.

Pip realised Catherine wanted time alone with Bryant. They had, after all, just buried a mutual friend. The questions would have to wait. ‘I'll leave you to it. Again, I'm sorry for your loss, Catherine. I'm working Sunday, Paul. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll see about your trip out to the wastelands.'

‘Will do,' he said, and watched her walk away.

It was probably not Pip's responsibility to organise cross-border investigations, but Bryant suddenly felt as though he wanted to spend some more time with her. He'd felt oddly calm after telling her about his
experiences in Bomber Command, and he wondered if he might exorcise some of his thoughts about Felicity by talking with her.

Catherine interrupted his thoughts. ‘God, I'm hardly gone and you're already looking for a replacement. Stop leering at her bum, Paul.'

‘What? Oh! No, not her. Don't be silly, Cath,' he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

‘I've seen the way she looks at you. She's got more on her mind than police business. I wonder if she has her own handcuffs?'

‘Stop that,' he said. ‘Now, what's this rubbish about you leaving? This is the first I've heard of it.'

‘It's not rubbish. Don't take offence, Paul, but I meant what I said, there's nothing here for me now.'

‘No offence taken. I know you weren't expecting me to propose to you.'

‘You'll be gone soon enough anyway,' Catherine said.

‘Who says?'

‘It's the war. People come and people go. If the air force doesn't send you back on operations they'll probably find some other godforsaken training base to park you.'

He shrugged. She was most likely right. ‘What do I say now? Thanks for the memories?'

‘That's a nice start. Flick meant more to me than you'll ever know, Paul.'

‘I've a fair idea,' he said.

‘No, it was more than just that. We were like . . . it's hard to describe. Almost like a couple.'

‘I understand.'

‘No, I don't think you really can. There's no way to say it that doesn't sound perverse or tawdry. I wanted so much for her to stay at the ranch, to give up her silly air force job, but she wouldn't hear of it.'

‘She loved the parachuting – even if she didn't get on with the other girls here.'

‘Those bitches.' There was no hiding her disgust. ‘They were jealous of her beauty, her spirit and her fame. Your eulogy touched a chord in me, Paul. I've also been wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent her death. I hope that black they've arrested goes to the gallows.'