to collect her tapes and her writing was typed out along with her other
correspondence.
Weekly also she would go with Ella in the speedboat up the lake to
Tiberias to do their shopping together, and each day she swam for an
hour from the stone jetty.
Often an old fisherman with whom she had become friendly would row down
the lake to fetch her and she would go out with him, baiting her own
lines and taking her turn at the oars.
Across the lawns from the jetty, in the crusader castle, there was
always Ella's companionship and intelligent conversation, and here in
her little cottage there was quietness and safety and work to fill the
long hours.
And in the night there was the chill of terrible aloneness and silent
bitter tears into her solitary pillow, tears which only she knew about.
Debra placed a mug of coffee beside Ella's chair and carried her own
back to her work bench.
Now, she said, you can tell me what is keeping you fidgeting around in
your seat, and drumming your fingers on the arm of the chair, she smiled
towards Ella, sensing the surprise. You have got something to tell me,
and it's killing you.
Yes, Ella spoke after a moment. Yes, you are right, my dear. She took
a deep breath and then went on. He came, Debra. He came to see me, as
we knew he must Debra set the mug down on the table, her hand was steady
and her face expressionless. I didn't tell him where you were. 'How is
he, Ella? How does he look?
He is thinner, a little thinner, I think, and paler than when I last saw
him, but it suits him. He is still the most beautiful man I have ever
seen. His hair, Debra asked, has he let it grow a little?
Yes, I think so. It's soft and dark and thick around his ears and curly
down the back. Debra nodded, smiling. I'm glad he didn't cut it. They
were silent again, and then almost timidly Debra asked, What did he say?
What did he want? 'He had a message for you. 'What was it? And Ella
repeated it faithfully in his exact words.
When she had finished, Debra turned away to face the wall above her
desk. Please go away now, Ella. I want to be alone. He asked me to
give him your reply. I promised to speak to him tomorrow morning. I
will come to you later, but please leave me now. And Ella saw the drop
of bright liquid that slid down the smooth brown curve of her cheek.
Mountainously Ella came to her feet and moved towards the door. Behind
her she heard the girl sob, but she did not turn back. She went across
the stone jetty and up to the terrace. She sat before her canvas and
picked up her brush and began to paint. Her strokes were broad and
crude and angry.
David was sweating in the stiff shiny skin of his full pressure suit and
he waited anxiously beside the telephone, glancing every few minutes at
the crew-room clock.
He and Joe would go on high-altitude Red standby at ten o'clock, in
seven minutes time, and Ella had not called him.
David's depression was thunderous and there was black anger and despair
in his heart. She had promised to call before ten o'clock.
Come on, Davey, Joe called from the doorway and he stood up heavily and
followed Joe to the electric carrier. As he took his seat beside Joe he
heard it ring in the crew-room.
Hold it, I he told the driver, and he saw Robert answer the telephone
and wave through the glass panel at him.
It's for you, Davey, and he ran back into the crewroom.
I'm sorry, David, Ella's voice was scratchy and far away. I tried
earlier but the exchange here Sure, sure, David cut her short, his anger
was still strong. Did you speak to her? Yes, Davey. Yes, I did. I
gave her your message. 'What was her reply? he demanded. There was no
reply. 'What the hell, Ella. She must have said something. 'She said,
Ella hesitated, -and these are her exact words, "the dead cannot speak
with the living. For David, I died a year ago. I, He held the receiver
with both hands but still it shook. After a while she spoke again. Are
you still there? 'Yes, he whispered, I'm still here They were silent
again, but David broke it at last. That's it, then, he said. Yes. I'm
afraid that's it, Davey. Joe stuck his head around the door. -'Hey,
Davey. Cut it short, will you. Time to go. 'I have to go now, Ella.
Thanks for everything. 'Goodbye, David, she said, and even over the
scratchy connection he could hear the compassion in her tone.
It heightened the black anger that gripped him as he rode beside Joe to
the Mirage bunker.
For the first time ever, David felt uncomfortable in the cockpit of a
Mirage. He felt trapped and restless, sweating and angry, and it seemed
hours between each of the fifteen-minute readiness checks.
His ground crew were playing backgammon on the concrete floor below him,
and he could see them laughing and joshing each other. It made him
angrier than ever to see others happy.
Tubby! he barked into his microphone, and his voice was repeated by the
overhead loudspeakers. The plump, serious young man, who was chief
engineer for Lance squadron, climbed quickly up beside his cockpit and
peered anxiously through the canopy at him.
There is dirt on my screen, David snapped at him. How the hell do you
expect me to pick up a MIG, when I'm looking through a screen you ate
your bloody breakfast off?
The cause of David's distress was a speck of carbon that marred the
glistening perfection of his canopy.
Tubby himself had supervised the polishing and buffing of it, and the
carbon speck was wind-carried since then.
Carefully he removed the offending spot, and lovingly he polished the
place where it had been with a chamois leather.
The reprimand had been public and unfair, very unlike their top boy
Davey. However, they all made allowances for Red standby nerves, and
spots on a canopy played hell with a pilot's nerves. Every time it
caught his eye it looked exactly like a pouncing MIG.
That's better, David gruffed at him, fully aware that he had been
grossly unfair. Tubby grinned and gave him a high sign as he climbed
down.
At that moment there was a click and throb in his earphones and the
distinctive voice of the Brig.
Red Standby, Go! Go!
Under full reheat and with the driving thrust of the afterburners
hurling him aloft David called, Hello, Desert Flower, Bright Lance
airborne and climbing.
Hello, David, this is the Brig. We have a contact shaping up for
intrusion on our air space. It looks like another teaser from the
Syrians. They are closing our border at twenty-six thousand and should
be hostile in approximately three minutes. We are going to initiate
attack plan Gideon. Your new heading is 420 and I want you right down
on the deck.
David acked and immediately rotated the Mirage's nose downwards. Plan
Gideon called for a low-level stalk so that the ground clutter would
obscure the enemy radar and conceal their approach until such time as
they were in position to storm-climb up into an attack vector above and
behind the target.
They dropped to within feet of the ground, lifting and falling over the
undulating hills, so low that the herds of black Persian sheep scattered
beneath them as they shrieked eastwards towards the Jordan.
Hello, Bright Lance, this is Desert Flower, we are not tracking you.
Good, thought David, then neither is the enemy. Target is now hostile