After that, the bear went with him on every sortie, seeing him through near-misses, escapes and the odd triumph. And it began to seem to Mark that Dee-his own true Dee, the woman who had scorned him-had nevertheless the right to know that she was influencing his life, perhaps even saving it. It was an excuse to write to her, and he badly needed an excuse.
The letter was hard. On light matters he’d always found talking easy-too easy-but now, in the depths of sincerity, he found the words eluding him. He wrote at last:
I meant to send her back to you, but she’s a nice little companion and I’d miss her. Do you still have the Mad Bruin? Do you ever look at him and think of me? I hope so. You were right to break it off. I’m a useless character and I’d be no good for you, but let him remind you of me sometimes; even if it’s only the annoying things, like how unreliable I am, no common sense, the way I make jokes about all the wrong things, don’t turn up when I’m expected, stick my nose in where it’s not wanted, never seem to understand when you want to be left alone. I’m sure you can think of plenty more.
The letter didn’t satisfy him. It didn’t even begin to convey what was in his heart, but he wasn’t even sure what that was. And, even if he had been sure, he didn’t think he could have said it. He put the paper away, to be finished later.
He did return to it several times, always remembering something else that it was vital for her to know. Days passed, then weeks, and somehow it was never sent.
He was afraid and he knew it. The man who faced down death a hundred times was afraid to contact the woman whose reply could damage him more than any Messerschmitt. Afraid! How she would laugh at that. And, after all, she had the right to know that she’d triumphed, just as she had the right to know that she was protecting him. Perhaps he could simply turn up and confront her with it, and watch her face as she learned exactly what she’d done to him. The temptation was so strong that he shut his thoughts off abruptly.
Another sortie was beginning, demanding his attention. He took off in the sunlight, headed out over the sea towards the continent. After that, things became confused. He knew his aircraft was hit and he was aware of himself mechanically piloting back to England and safety, frantically praying that he would arrive before the explosion.
He almost made it. As he came down the flames were beginning to take over. Another few seconds…just a few…just a few…
Then the air was rent by a terrible screaming that he didn’t even recognise as his own. The jaggedness converged on him from all directions, stabbing, burning, terrifying him. Hands were tearing at the plane, pulling him out. He lay on the ground, listening to the shouting around him, waiting for his life to end. It was all over now and the only thing that really hurt was that he would never see Dee again. Then the darkness engulfed him.
But, instead of swallowing him up for ever, it lifted after a while, revealing a mist, with her voice all around him. He couldn’t see her face but her words filled his heart with joy.
‘…Maybe you can hear me, somewhere deep inside you…there’s so much I want you to understand…’
He tried to speak but he could make no sound. Her voice continued whirling through the clouds.
‘I was clumsy before. I loved you so much that I was afraid to let you know… I was so happy when you asked me to marry you… All I saw was that I could be your wife…’
My wife, he thought. You are my wife, now and always. Why can’t I tell you?
‘Come back to me… I love you with all my heart… Just let me care for you.’
Everything in him wanted to say yes, to find her, draw her close. He opened his eyes in desperate hope, straining to see her face, which must be full of the same emotion as her voice, an emotion that offered him hope for the first time in his life.
But his dream had been in vain. There was only a nurse in a professional uniform, the cap low over her forehead, her features frowning and severe. Disappointment tore him, making him say almost violently, ‘Who are you?’
At first the words made no impact on Dee. She couldn’t understand them-wouldn’t understand them and their terrible implication.
He stared at her, or perhaps through her. His eyes were empty of recognition, of feeling, of anything.
‘Who are you?’
‘I…Mark, it’s me…Dee…’
But his eyes remained blank until he closed them, murmuring, ‘Sorry, Nurse.’
She took a deep breath, telling herself that it meant nothing. She was in uniform, her hair covered by a nurse’s cap, as he hadn’t seen her before. And he was heavily sedated, not his normal self.
‘Nurse-’ he murmured.
‘Yes, I’m here.’
He gave a long tortured sigh that ended in a groan.
Mr Royce came quietly into the room. ‘He’s due for more painkiller,’ he said. ‘Will you help me administer it?’
Together they did what was necessary, which seemed to bring Mark some ease. He opened his eyes again, murmuring, ‘Thank you, Nurse.’
‘Leave him to sleep,’ Mr Royce said, ushering her out of the room.
‘He doesn’t know me,’ she said flatly when they were outside.
‘Given the condition he’s in, that’s hardly surprising, but part of his recovery will be regaining the memories of his old life and you can assist him in that as nobody else can. I’m assigning you to him full-time. Yes, I know that will be hard for you, but you must be professional about this, Nurse.’
‘Of course.’
Professional, she told herself. That was what mattered. She must forget her shame at the memory of the things she’d said, the impassioned outpouring of love, the naive way she’d hoped for some flicker of love in return, only to be met with, ‘Who are you?’
She took immediate charge of him, silencing all other thoughts but his need and her duty, but it was hard when her feelings were so involved. The first time she saw his burns she had to fight back tears. The whole of his chest was violently red and raw, and she could only guess at what he must be suffering. Her ministrations made him wince, despite being on such a heavy dose of painkiller that he never seemed more than vaguely awake. Now and then he would gaze at her as though trying to remember where he’d seen her before, but he always addressed her as ‘Nurse’.
‘Perhaps you should stay with him overnight,’ Joe told her late one evening. He’d been on a training session and they had arrived home at nearly the same moment.
‘What about you?’ she said, looking around at the bleak, echoing house. ‘I don’t like leaving you alone.’
‘I’m a big boy now, love. I can cope. And I’m not alone, not really. Your Mum’s here with me. No, don’t look like that. I’m not mad. This is the home she created, and every inch of it is what she made. If I work late in the garage, she puts her head around the door and says, “Are you coming in or are you going to be here all night?” If I’m making tea, I always fill the pot in case she wants one. I know how much she loved me, and she still does, almost as much as I love her.’
‘I always wondered about that-’ Dee said hesitantly. ‘The way your marriage came about-’
‘Oh, you mean that stuff about me making her pregnant and being forced to do the decent thing. Nah, nobody forced me. I was daft about her, but I was shy. I was even scared to kiss her in case she was offended, while as for…you know…’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, lips twitching.
‘All right, go on, laugh at me, but it was another age. You were supposed to behave yourself in them days. But your mum knew what she wanted, and she wanted me. Lord knows why, but she did.’