A Kestrel Rising Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Kestrel Rising

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-791-2

  ©Copyright S A Laybourn 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2015

  Edited by Rebecca Scott

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Simmering and a Sexometer of 1.

  A KESTREL RISING

  S A Laybourn

  War puts courage and love to the test.

  It’s 1939, a lone Spitfire roars over her family home, and Ilona Lowe, entranced by its grace and power, finally knows her place in the fight against Hitler. She joins the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, is stationed at RAF Catterick and embarks on an all-too-brief love affair with a Bleinheim bomber pilot who is killed during the Battle of Britain.

  Heartbroken, but determined to carry on, Ilona returns to active duty where she encounters Francis Robson. He’s arrogant—some would even say reckless—and another pilot. Yet he’s worth the risk.

  Their love isn’t easy. Francis harbors jealousy about her former lover while Ilona’s posting at an RAF bomber base feeds her nightmares about Francis’ safety. She can see the escalation of stakes as his missions grow ever more dangerous, the enemy more desperate. Ilona must put her courage to the test because she knows that loving Francis means letting him let him fight on, regardless of the terrible price they both may pay.

  Dedication

  My dad helped a lot with this book. It was him I turned to if I needed information on anything from bus services in Suffolk during the war to what damage a Spitfire and pilot could sustain yet make it back to the home airfield in one piece. He was my cheerleader, so this book is for him and my mum. Thank you for all that you have done. I love you both.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Solace: Scott Joplin

  Bedford: Bedford Vehicles, Vauxhall Motors

  Begin the Beguine: Cole Porter

  My Old Man (Said Follow the Van): Fred W. Leigh and Charles Collins

  Over the Rainbow: Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg

  BBC: BBC

  Beer Barrel Polka: Jaromír Vejvoda, Will Glahé

  Moonlight Serenade: Glenn Miller, Mitchell Parish

  Whispering Grass (Don’t Tell the Trees): Fred Fisher and Doris Fisher, The Ink Spots

  Harbour Lights: Hugh Williams

  A Red, Red Rose: Robert Burns

  Lysol: Reckitt Benckiser Group plc

  Brylcreem: County Chemicals

  These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You): Eric Maschwitz, Jack Strachey

  I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire: The Ink Spots

  We’ll Meet Again: Ross Parker and Hughie Charles, Vera Lynn

  Gone With the Wind: Margaret Mitchell

  Fitzbillies: Fitzbillies

  Jane Eyre: Charlotte Brontë

  As Time Goes By: Herman Hupfield

  The Honky Tonk Train Blues: Meade Lux Lewis

  I Get Along Without You Very Well: Hoagy Carmichael

  The Old Vicarage, Grantchester: Rupert Brooke

  I’ll Be Seeing You: Sammy Fain and Irving Kahal

  Heart and Soul: Hoagy Carmichael and Frank Loesser

  Jeep: Fiat Chrysler Automobiles

  Chapter One

  “Is it the Germans, Ilke?”

  The low thrumming of an engine broke the afternoon silence, growing louder until the plane burst from beyond the trees with a roar that had Ilona and her sister scrambling for cover. Aislinn clung to her arm as they ducked behind the low wall of the terrace.

  Ilona gripped the warm brick, digging her fingernails into the moss when the ground trembled. The noise reverberated through her bones. “I don’t think so. I think there’d be more than one plane.” She glanced up as the plane swept into a banking curve above the house. It was low enough that she could see the RAF roundels on the underside of its elliptical wings and she took a deep breath. “It’s all right. It’s one of ours.”

  “Are you sure?” Aislinn’s voice quivered.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She stood up, her fear gone, and shielded her eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun. “How beautiful!” It seemed impossible to her that it came from a factory. Its slender fuselage and upswept wings were something that nature would fashion. It echoed the shape of the kestrel that rose, screeching, out of the woods in pursuit of the intruder. Ilona watched the bird for a moment and wished she could fly with it, to follow the plane and chase off the enemy that waited in the east. She was twenty, old enough to volunteer.

  “Bloody cheek,” Aislinn declared as the plane straightened and launched into a steep, fast climb. The throaty growl of its engine stunned the squabbling blackbirds into silence and brought the girls’ parents out onto the terrace. “He nearly took the chimney off.”

  Ilona wasn’t listening to her sister. She stared at the plane while it continued its climb, rising into the sky before it turned and leveled, sweeping away to the south. The heavy purr of its engines faded away. Something inside her took flight, rising with the plane. The engine’s song was in her blood. She had to hear it again. She knew she would never be able to fly a plane like that, but to see one again would be enough. It thrilled her that such a marvelous plane belonged to her country. For the first time since the Government had declared war, Ilona knew what she was going to do.

  Her father put
his hands in his pockets and whistled softly. “That was some machine.”

  “What was it, Papa?” Aislinn asked.

  “I think it was a Spitfire. They test fly them out of Aldermaston.”

  Ilona sat on the wall. “I didn’t think something like that could be so beautiful. It looked more like it was alive.” She hoped that the fleeting, heart-racing glimpse would not be all that she ever saw. The ease with which it had moved tugged at her. She had only ever loved living things—her family, her horses, her dogs and cats—never a machine. It didn’t seem possible that she could fall in love so quickly. She had to get closer to it, to stand in the grass and watch it soar overhead. It would not be enough to stay at home when there was a war to fight. She looked at her sister and her parents, her mind made up.

  “I’ve decided,” she said. “I’m joining the WAAF.”

  * * * *

  “Aren’t you ready yet?” Aislinn burst into Ilona’s bedroom.

  Ilona glanced up from her book and regarded her sister with mild annoyance. “For what?”

  “Aunty and Uncle Reardon, they’ll be here for drinks any minute now and here you are lounging around with your nose in a book.”

  She looked at Aislinn again, all pretty and black haired in a blue dress that matched her eyes. “Why are you all dressed up?”

  “The Woodplumpton’s party, you ass. Ilke, honestly, you’re hopeless. Have you forgotten?”

  “Party? Why are the Reardons coming here?”

  “So we can meet their grandson. Don’t you remember anything Mama told you?”

  Ilona set her book down with a sigh. “Now that you mention it, I remember Mama telling me something last night on the way home from the station. I was really tired. I don’t think I took much in.”

  “Obviously not.” Aislinn opened Ilona’s wardrobe and started rummaging through the dresses. “You’d better hurry up and get changed. What do you want to wear?”

  “I don’t know. You choose.” She didn’t want to go anywhere. The Christmas Eve weather was far from Christmassy. The wind hurled rain against the window, and she wanted to stay in her room, curled up in the chair beside the fire.

  “How about this one?” Her sister held out a dark green dress. “It’s nice and warm and the color really suits you.”

  She eyed the wrap-around wool dress with little enthusiasm. “I suppose so.”

  “Oh, do snap out of it, Ilke. You can’t sit around all Christmas and read books.”

  Ilona slipped out of her trousers and jumper and stepped into the dress. “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to have much time when I go back to training. Why aren’t you tired? Don’t they work you as hard in the WRNS?”

  “Yes, they do, but I don’t want to sit around the house all the time. You know that Lady Woodplumpton’s parties are the only bit of excitement we get around here. Anyway, I want to meet this Francis person.”

  “Francis, that’s his name?” She tightened the dress around her waist and smoothed out the skirt. “What’s he doing here anyway?”

  “Don’t you listen to anything anyone tells you? He’s with the RAF. He’s a pilot. He’s Mama’s cousin’s son.”

  “The one that lives in America?”

  “That’s the one. He’s mad keen on flying and Lord Woodplumpton pulled all sorts of strings to get him into the RAF.”

  Ilona stooped to look in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to fluff out the unruly waves. The dress made it look redder and she wasn’t sure she liked that.

  “Are you ready?” Aislinn shifted from foot to foot. “That doorbell’s going to ring any minute and Mama will be beside herself if we don’t get down there.”

  The doorbell rang, sending the dogs into a frenzy of barking. Cries of delight filled the foyer as the guests walked in. Ilona followed Aislinn down the stairs and into the whirlwind of dogs and guests.

  “Here are the girls.” Father pushed the dogs aside to usher them forward.

  Ilona was swept up into Mrs. Reardon’s fierce hug. “Welcome home, dear. It’s lovely to see you again.”

  “It’s nice to be home.”

  “Good heavens!” Her mother exclaimed. “You’re your father all over again. I can’t believe it. He’s the image of Jon. It’s like going back in time.”

  Ilona noticed the other guest for the first time. He stood to one side in his dress blues and looked bored. She did see the resemblance that her mother was going on about, in his tousled brown hair and his eyes that were the color of strong tea. There were photographs in the sitting room of his parents. Anna, her mother’s cousin, was small and fragile-looking beside a tall, lean man with a haunted face. His son’s face lacked the ghosts, but he didn’t seem happy. She offered him a smile.

  “I’m Francis,” he said, not returning the smile.

  “Ilona.” It was bad enough that she had to give up a precious, quiet evening but his curtness annoyed her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “He doesn’t look too thrilled to be here, does he?” Aislinn took her arm as they headed for the sitting room.

  “No, he doesn’t,” she whispered back. “Too bad. He’ll have to drink cocktails and be polite like everyone else.”

  Ilona had always loved the sitting room. It was at its best during the long, brilliant days of summer when sunlight fell through the tall windows and tumbled onto the floor. There were plenty of places to sit but, the evening was cold and everyone sought refuge on the group of chairs and settees clustered around the fireplace. Ilona listened while Aislinn tried to engage Francis in conversation. His replies were monosyllabic and he kept looking with obvious longing at the door. The others were too busy talking to pay much attention to the strained silence in the chairs farthest from the fireplace and Ilona itched to be away from there. She tucked her legs underneath her and gazed into the flames, wishing that she was back in her room with her book. Instead, she sipped her sherry until her mother decided that it was time to leave for the Woodplumptons’ party.

  Everyone retrieved coats and umbrellas in a little flurry of activity. Her father announced that he would take the Reardons in the car and Ilona, Aislinn and Francis could walk.

  “After all”—he grinned—“you’re all young and fit and a little stroll in the rain won’t bother you much.”

  Ilona opened her mouth to protest. A sharp glance from her mother put paid to any objections. She shrugged into her coat and wondered if it was worth wrestling with an umbrella on such a windy night. Instead, she wrapped a scarf around her head and followed Francis and Aislinn into the darkness. She took her sister’s arm as they picked their way along the drive while their companion walked slightly behind them in silence. The wind roaring through the trees did little to encourage conversation. They hurried along the lane and through the quiet village. It was a relief to reach the warmth and light of the Woodplumptons’. Ilona hoped that Francis would be lost in the crowd because his silence unsettled her and she didn’t feel like working hard to get a word out of him. Aislinn had already spotted some friends of hers and disappeared into the noisy chaos of the drawing room.

  Francis looked at her. “Would you like a drink?”

  She hurriedly glanced around, searching for someone that she knew. There was no one and she mustered a smile. “Thank you, yes. That would be nice.”

  Perhaps he’ll open up with a drink.

  Francis handed her a sherry. “Are there any quiet rooms, do you think?”

  “I doubt it. Lady Woodplumpton’s parties are usually noisy. I suppose we could try the conservatory.”

  He walked altogether too close behind her while they squeezed past knots of people in the hall. Every now and then, someone would reach out, grab her arm and pull her into a conversation. Ilona tried to involve her companion but he hovered on the edge, gazing into his whiskey and saying nothing. She silently cursed her sister for abandoning her.

  The weather had discouraged many people from lingering in the vast, Victorian cons
ervatory. The blackout curtains didn’t stop the damp drafts but Ilona found a pair of old wicker chairs in the corner where it wasn’t quite so cold. She sat down and sipped her sherry.

  “So,” she ventured. “I’m told you’re a pilot.” It seemed a safe enough subject, guaranteed to get him talking.

  “I’m trying. I’m still in training at the moment.” His voice was gloomy.

  “Have you flown at all?”

  “Back in the states. I was in the University Flying Club, so I’ve flown trainers.” He sighed, shrugged and took a mouthful of whiskey. “Right now it’s all paperwork and tests. I’m a good pilot. I could do without the training.”

  What an arrogant… She took a deep breath. “What do you want to fly? Fighters? Bombers?”

  “Fighters. I want to fly Spitfires.”

  Ilona remembered the Spitfire with a chill. “They are beautiful planes.”

  He looked at her. “What about you? What will you be doing?”

  “Driving. I’m going to Driving School in a few days. I’d rather do that than sit at a desk, like Aislinn. Mind, she seems happy enough.” She studied her glass and realized that it was nearly empty. Getting it filled again would give her a chance to escape. There was something in him that would not let her get comfortable. She wanted noise and chatter, not the sound of the rain spattering against the glass.

  “There you are!” Aislinn swept into the room. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She hauled Ilona to her feet. “You have got to come with me. Lawrence Winters is home on leave. You would not believe the stories he’s telling.”

  Ilona glanced at Francis. “Will you join us? Lawrence always tells funny stories. You’d like him.”

  “Nah, I think I’ll just stay here and enjoy the peace and quiet.” He smiled. “Go on. See your friend. I’ll be fine.”

  She felt a tug of guilt for abandoning him but she had tried and he wasn’t interested. She let her sister drag her away and tried to feel all right about it.