Wings Of Sorrow

by Jessica Blair

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

Scarborough, 1938. When Jane and Nell are brought together by a chance encounter, Jane, unhappy at home, sees an opportunity to escape when Nell invites her to visit her family in Lowestoft. However, they have no idea that their friendship will be tested through the trials of love, hardship and war. Nell's friends, Simon and Ewan, accept Jane as one of their own and welcome her into their world.

But the threat of war soon brings changes for all four of them. Simon and his ship are involved in mine sweeping, Ewan joins the RAF and, feeling frustrated at their helplessness, Nell and Jane join the Land Army so that they can do something positive for the war effort while remaining together. But it is only when both girls fall for the same man that the strength of their friendship is truly challenged...

Release date: November 10, 2011

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 448

Sample

Nineteen-year-old Jane Harvey’s mind was on the sea as she left the house of her uncle and aunt in Scholes Park Road, Scarborough,
Yorkshire’s premier coastal resort. Since coming to live with them from Middlesbrough’s growing industrial complex along the
banks of the River Tees in February 1938, she had found her troubles soothed by the sight of it. No matter what its mood –
tranquil, stormy, heaving with the rising tide or tranquil after the ebb – its vastness presented a distant horizon beyond
which dreams promised to come true.


‘Enjoy your walk, love,’ her aunt called when she reached the gate.

Jane turned and smiled. ‘Thanks, Aunty Mavis.’

‘Will you end up at the cricket?’

‘Yes. It could be an interesting last day. Expect me when you see me.’

‘You’ve got your ticket?’

‘Yes. ’Bye.’ Determined to enjoy this bright, warm day, Jane closed the gate and waved.

Mavis came to the gate and watched her niece until she turned the corner into a side road from which she could make her way
to the promenade on Scarborough’s North Bay. Mavis felt great satisfaction that she and her husband David had been united
in their desire to give Jane a new home after the cruel and unbending attitude of her father. Jane filled the void in their lives which had appeared when it became evident Mavis could not have children of her own. They
doted on Jane and her brother Tim, four years younger, joyfully welcoming the visits that were only allowed under sufferance
by their strict father, after continuous pleading by their downtrodden mother.


Mavis thought there was brisker movement in the girl’s steps today and hoped it was a sign of her coming to terms with her
new life. She also took heart from seeing that her niece had taken more trouble to look smart. Jane used to take pride in
her appearance, but after the trouble with her father had shown little interest in herself. However, with Mavis’s encouragement,
signs of the Jane she had formerly known were re-emerging. Today she was dressed in a white blouse and navy blazer with a
cream linen skirt reaching just below her knees. She had let her coppery brown hair grow and wore it flicked under on her
shoulders, a style Mavis knew she had picked up from the American film stars she studied on the screen and in the film magazines
she read avidly.


When her niece had disappeared from sight, Mavis turned back to the house with a sigh, wondering where it all would end. Would
Jane and her father ever be reconciled?


Jane breathed in deeply when she reached the promenade and felt invigorated by the sea air. She sensed today was going to
be good, and was determined not to let it be spoiled by memories of the past or thoughts of whether she should return to Middlesbrough.
Too much had happened for that ever to be possible. Whether her uncle and aunt sent ‘progress reports’ to her mother and father
she did not know. She doubted it, for she was aware that the brothers’ relationship, dominated by her own father, had finally
soured twelve years ago when they’d left their North Riding country village to find more lucrative work elsewhere. Her uncle
had taken the opportunity to break away from his brother’s influence and, with Aunt Mavis’s backing, had moved to Scarborough where his interest in photography had developed into a thriving business on the back of
the holiday trade which boomed there throughout the thirties. At the time they’d left the country, Jane had heard her father
mocking his brother, calling his ideas ‘namby-pamby’ and saying he should get men’s work as he himself had done, maintaining
tracks for the Great Northern line. Being only seven at the time she could not voice an opinion – children being very much
seen and not heard in her family – but in her mind she was sympathetic towards Uncle David.


She was grateful to him and her aunt for giving her a home; for never once suggesting that she return to Middlesbrough, and
leaving any further decisions about her life to her. When she first came to Scarborough she knew she should think seriously
about getting a job and contributing to the household expenses, but that had been shelved while she settled in to her new
home. She couldn’t put it off forever, though. She had considered journalism, for she loved expressing her thoughts and making
observations. Before the trouble with her father she had kept a reasonably comprehensive diary; as the situation had worsened
her notes became more detailed, especially when expressing her own emotions. It dawned on her that one day they might be useful
as background to a novel, or perhaps her ability to elaborate her observations would lead to a career in journalism. Maybe
now was the time to start, to purchase a typewriter and sound out the local newspaper. It was just a question of finding the
right subject … But wasn’t it said that: ‘Subjects are everywhere, it’s a matter of training your mind and eyes to see them’?
Maybe today, at the cricket …


Reaching the promenade, she slowed her walk. After a few minutes she stopped to lean on the rail and stare out to sea. Mesmerised
by the constant motion of the waves, she became lost in her thoughts, skirting the past and speculating about the future.


Jane sighed, brought her mind back to the present then straightened up, telling herself, determinedly, that mooning about
was no way to start the day. She walked on at an unhurried pace, noting the scene around her – late-season holidaymakers making
the most of the fine weather by enjoying themselves on the beach; children building sand castles or racing towards the sea;
families settling into their temporary encampments, meeting up with friends, being happy together. Jane felt a pang of jealousy.
Why hadn’t her own childhood followed a similar pattern? Why had her parents never taken her and Tim to the seaside?


She threw such regrets from her mind as she walked past the row of small holiday chalets stretching as far as the curved Art
Deco frontage of the Corner Café from which there were clear views across the North Bay to the ruined Norman castle high on
the promontory that split Scarborough into its North and South sides. Beneath, the Royal Albert Drive and Marine Drive pursued
their spectacular seaside route, a link to the South Bay and the bustling harbour. Jane had grown to love this walk, which
she did most days when the weather permitted. Today it was perfect.


She found herself wondering what it was like inside the cliff-top hotels above her. She was passing the foothills now where
twisting paths had been laid and flat areas dug out to accommodate tennis courts and putting greens, some of which were already
in use. The cliff face steepened as it reached the promontory. Jane was always awed by its majestic height, and the screeching
of the thousands of seabirds nesting on its ledges.


Reaching the South Bay, she was met by the noise of amusement arcades and funfairs housed between the shops, cafés and ice-cream
parlours lining the foreshore on one side. The other gave access to a beach where further holidaymakers were making the most
of their last few days of freedom. Jane always liked to drink in the vitality of this part of town before climbing the steep cliffside gardens to what was regarded as Scarborough’s elegant side. But today she
was going to forgo that part of her walk for in the harbour yesterday she’d noticed three drifters, the Sea Queen, Lively Lady, and Silver King, that she knew from their markings came from Lowestoft. Together with the local fishing vessels and craft plying the holiday
trade, they added colour and activity to the harbour and brought much-needed trade to the fishing port whose returns were
diminishing after the heyday of the herring industry before the Great War.


She wandered along the harbourside, pausing to watch men busy in their boats. She admired two pristine yachts that must have
berthed after she had left yesterday. But her eyes were mainly intent upon the drifters. Yesterday she had been disappointed
that there was no sign of anyone on board. Today it was a different story. Five young men, one of whom was holding a soccer
ball, were in the midst of laughing exchanges with a fair-haired young woman on the quay. Jane observed her more closely as
she drew nearer. She judged the girl to be about her own age, and her lively manner and attractive personality were obvious
from the way she bantered with the young sailors. They seemed to be a happy group and, though the sailors must be here to
work, they generated a light-hearted atmosphere around them. Jane listened, attracted by the soft flowing speech with its
drawn-out vowels.


‘Hey, Nell, have you time to suffer another defeat?’ called out a dark-haired, well-built young man whose sparkling blue eyes
and fine-cut features gave him a striking appearance.


‘No, Ewan, no time for that,’ she replied promptly. The twinkle in her eyes showed her desire to accept the challenge. ‘But
I’ve time to beat you cheats!’


This retaliation brought a roar of laughter from the group on the boat. ‘Cheats?’ called Ewan. ‘Don’t be such a bad sport.
Here, take the ball and try again. We’ll be with you in a few minutes.’ He threw the ball to her but aimed it to the left so that she failed to hold it.


Gasps of warning came from the men as the ball bounced towards the edge of the quay. Nell looked alarmed. She couldn’t be
the one to lose the crew’s precious ball in the harbour. Jane’s eyes focused on the ball. She judged its next bounce, stepped
lightly forward and flicked it away from the edge of the quay. As she bent down to pick it up then she could sense the relief
sweeping over the spectators.


With cheers ringing out from the deck of the drifter, Nell came running up to her. She reached out for the ball and gasped,
‘Oh, thanks. You saved my life.’


Jane grinned. ‘Would it have been that bad?’

‘Worse.’ Nell raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Especially from Ewan Steel and Simon Evans. They’d never have let me forget it.’
She glanced back at the drifter. ‘Ten minutes,’ she shouted.


‘Aye, before you taste defeat again,’ came the reply, this time from a brown-haired man of similar build to Ewan but with
more rugged features.


‘That’s what you think, Simon,’ retorted Nell. She turned back to Jane ‘Like to join us? We’re going to have a game on the
beach before we go to the cricket.’ Her tone was friendly and there was warmth in her dark blue eyes. She held the ball tightly
to her with her right arm. With the other hand she ran her fingers through her wavy hair. She was a neat and attractive figure
in her light brown skirt and pale blue blouse, white ankle socks and sandals.


‘Well, I’m on my way to the cricket too,’ replied Jane.

‘Then we can all go together. Come on.’ Nell started off along the quay.

‘Won’t the men be sailing?’ asked Jane, falling into step beside her.

‘No, won’t be doing until tomorrow evening. We’ve all come from Lowestoft to see this match against the Aussies, you see.’

‘And the fishing takes a back seat?’


‘We always pick one match in the Scarborough Cricket Festival to attend together. We actually come for ten days’ holiday,
but apart from the day of the match the men operate out of Scarborough while the rest of the families enjoy themselves.’


‘Very convenient! Then the drifters will work their way back to Lowestoft?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is the fishing good?’

‘Yes. Not as good as it used to be but we still manage to make a living, though how long for I don’t know. The markets have
been gradually diminishing. The men talk about turning to trawling, but the situation in Europe is casting a doubt over the
fishing industry, as it is over everything else.’ Realising her tone had become sombre, Nell gave a little laugh. ‘Let’s not
think of that, we’ve more pleasant things to look forward to today.’ They had reached the end of the quay and she led the
way down on to the sand. ‘Oh, by the way, I’m Nell Franklin. My father owns one of those drifters.’


‘Jane Harvey.’

‘On holiday?’ asked Nell when Jane said no more.

‘Oh, sorry, no. I live with my uncle and aunt in Scarborough. I’ve been with them since February.’

‘Here we are, Jane.’ Curious though she was, Nell curtailed her questions as they neared a group of people settled in a circle
of deckchairs around two rugs on which stood three baskets laden with picnic supplies. Three older couples occupied pride
of place in the chairs. They turned to face Nell and Jane with welcome smiles.


‘I want you to meet Jane Harvey,’ Nell announced. ‘Jane, this is Mum, and next to her is Mrs Steel.’ Jane saw immediately
that Ewan had inherited his looks from this handsome woman. ‘And this is Mrs Evans.’ They all smiled and nodded at Jane as
if approving of Nell’s newfound friend. ‘Then you’ve got the three musketeers over there, my dad George Franklin, Mr Steel and Mr Evans.’ She indicated the three men, casually dressed in short-sleeved
shirts, their dark blue serge trousers held up by braces. There was the same air of determination and self-assurance in Mr
Steel that Jane had noted in Ewan. ‘Time you got your feet wet, gentlemen,’ teased Nell, motioning towards their heavy black
shoes. She turned to Jane, explaining, ‘They don’t like water, these chaps. Wouldn’t think they owned those three drifters
and talk of nothing else but fishing, would you?’


‘Now, young lady,’ intervened Jake Evans, ‘don’t be giving this nice girl the wrong impression. You know full well and I’ll
tell you what, I can talk cricket and football too.’


‘And chat up the girls,’ chuckled his wife Sarah. ‘Beware, Jane.’

‘Well, I chatted up the right one, didn’t I, love?’ came the quick reply to that.

‘I can keep his mind on cricket and football, Mrs Evans, don’t you worry,’ put in Jane with a smile.

‘You’re a cricket fan, then?’ Percy Steel asked her.

‘Yes. I was at the match yesterday, and the day before.’

‘Going today, love?’ put in George Franklin.

‘Yes. Wouldn’t miss the outcome.’

‘Then come with us. I’m sure Nell would enjoy some female company among us men,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the
five young crew members who were crossing the sand to join them.


‘Maybe so,’ called his wife, Flo, ‘but not before we’ve shown you that you don’t win a soccer match by cheating.’ She started
to push herself from her chair and her two women friends followed suit.


‘You’re playing,’ Nell whispered close to Jane’s ear.

‘Aren’t we going to be outnumbered?’ she murmured.

‘Two more are coming.’ Jane pointed in the direction of two girls, both about fourteen or so, who were running over from the
direction of the sea. ‘They are Sylvia and Amy Steel.’ She went on to indicate the five boisterous young men. ‘Simon and Neil Evans, Ewan and Walter Steel. The other
one’s Terry who works on my dad’s drifter. You’ll meet them all in the course of the game.’


‘No doubt,’ grinned Jane, delighted to have been welcomed so easily by this group of friends.

‘You five,’ Nell called, ‘this is Jane. She’s playing for us.’

‘Only right,’ shouted Ewan, ‘after she saved your face. Come on, let’s slaughter you women then we can get off for the start
of the cricket.’


Four coats were soon installed to mark the goalmouths and, with everyone haphazardly lined up, the women kicked off. It became
a game of push and shove with cries of ‘Foul’ ignored, shots that went laughably wide, and the ball getting stuck in the wet
sand when it looked as if it had reached an undefended goal. Laughter abounded and Jane knew that, whatever the outcome, the
game was being enjoyed by all. The ladies, though, seemed determined to win, no doubt to avenge yesterday’s defeat and prove
a point.


It had been agreed they’d play ten minutes each way, and when the first half was up no one had scored. It was the men’s turn
to kick off next. As soon as they put the ball down, Simon tapped it to Ewan who took a long shot towards goal and found the
target. The ladies immediately made loud protests, saying they were not ready and that Sylvia had not had chance to take up
her position in goal. The men would have none of it and the women were forced to accept that a goal had been scored legitimately.
But now their determination had heightened.


Five minutes remained when Jane found herself free from anyone marking her and accepting a long kick from Amy. She brought
the ball under control skilfully but after a few yards saw Jake Evans charging towards her. She judged his approach carefully
and, when he started to do a sliding tackle in the sand, put her foot on the ball to stop it. He slid past without touching it. She was round him in an instant, saw Nell free and flighted the ball to her feet. Nell
steadied herself and put her shot past Terry in goal. One each! Four minutes remaining.


The game became frenzied as everyone screamed for the ball, but no one made any real impression. Though the men tried more
long shots, they were all saved by Sylvia who was determined not to be caught out again by male trickery as they tried to
distract her in any way they could. With barely a minute to go, she saved a hard shot from Ewan and immediately kicked the
ball hard and high. Jane, with her back to the opponents’ goal, saw it coming. Simon was racing back but his feet were catching
in the soft sand. The ball was dropping. Jane eyed it carefully. She must not let it lose momentum in the sand. With the ball
inches from the ground, she swivelled and met it at just the right moment. It flew from her foot. As she fell back into the
sand she heard a roar of female voices and knew she must have scored. She was pushing herself to her feet when she was swamped
by all the members of her team, whooping and showering her with praise. She grinned and felt great satisfaction when she saw
the men all glumly staring in her direction with expressions of disbelief.


‘Cor blast!’ gasped Simon.

Arm round Jane’s shoulder, Nell’s face bore a huge grin when she faced the other team and called triumphantly, ‘What did you
think to that?’


‘Where did you learn?’ asked Ewan in amazement.

‘That would be telling,’ Nell put in quickly. ‘Say nothing.’ She squeezed Jane’s arm. ‘Let’s get a drink, then off to the
cricket and let this lot brood on their defeat.’


Jane laughed and winked at Ewan whose astonishment was still clouding his features as they walked past him to the picnic baskets.
‘Does everyone go to the cricket?’ she asked Nell.


‘No. The rest of the womenfolk are happy with their knitting, books and nattering. The younger generation will amuse themselves on the beach, in the sea, and in the amusement
arcades. Terry will go to visit some friends in Scarborough, but the rest of the men will go. We’ve got tickets. Have you?’


‘Yes.’

‘Good. Then we can spend the day together, if you like?’

‘I’d like nothing better.’

It was a happy group that left the sands, and their cheerful exchanges made Jane feel even more at home. She had been accepted
without question and was drawn by their natural easy-going attitude to life, though she guessed that when it came to the business
of fishing they would be a lot more serious. It obviously brought them a good living.


‘Your father been in fishing all his life?’ Jane asked when they reached the promenade and set off around the foot of the
cliff.


‘Yes, and his father and grandfather before him.’

‘And you are an only child?’

‘Yes.’

‘So there’s no son to carry on and take over his drifter?’

Nell gave a sad shake of her head. ‘No. I could manage the business side, Dad’s seen to that, but it needs someone at the
blunt end, too, and that means someone who can skipper the drifter at sea. I think when the time comes he’ll sell out to Mr
Evans or Mr Steel, both of whom, as you will have realised, have two sons.’ Nell paused, hoping that would encourage Jane
to reveal more about herself, but whether she was about to or not wasn’t clear for at that point a voice from behind called:
‘Hey, Jane, where did you learn to kick a ball like that?’


Both girls looked round and saw it was Ewan who had put the question. They slowed their step, allowing him and the other young
men to catch them up.


‘I said it was a fluke,’ joked Simon. ‘Ewan reckons it was skill.’

‘’Course it was skill,’ Nell said indignantly.

‘If it was,’ said Simon, doubt in his voice, ‘she’s done a lot of practising.’


‘I had a soccer-mad brother,’ Jane informed them.

‘Had?’ Ewan frowned.

‘He died of complications from scarlet fever,’ Jane explained sadly. ‘He was football mad. He played in a local mid-week junior
team. When I was living at home he insisted I kick a ball with him on the local recreation ground, and he taught me a few
things.’


‘Seems he was a good teacher,’ moaned Walter.

‘He went to all Middlesbrough’s first team home games.’

‘Did you?’

Jane laughed. ‘No. I got enough of football kicking a ball about with him.’

Ewan gave Simon a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘There, I told you it was skill.’

He grimaced. ‘How was I to know Jane had a brother who passed on to her everything he’d seen George Camsell do at Ayresome
Park?’


‘Come on, hand over that bob you owe me,’ Ewan told him.

‘You had a bet on me?’ cried Jane.

‘Yes, love, and I won,’ replied Ewan with a grin, giving her a quick hug of appreciation.

Jane laughed. ‘I reckon you owe me half of it then.’

‘Maybe I do,’ he chuckled.

As he released her and Jane spun away from his arms, she caught a momentary expression of disapproval on Nell’s face. It was
hardly there before it was gone, and then Nell’s laughter and high spirits were mingling with those of the rest of the party
again.


She linked arms with Jane and quickened their pace. ‘We all have our own tickets. If we get separated in the ground, we’ll
meet on the beach later where we left the others.’


Jane nodded. ‘What time?’

‘After the match.’

‘Could go on until six o’clock. I expect Mr Leveson-Gower’s XI will have declared overnight 57 ahead, so it will depend how well the Australians bat.’


‘Or how well we bowl,’ added Nell, lining herself up as a supporter of the English team.

‘It could be interesting.’

‘Very.’

They joined the throng of people converging on the main entrance to the cricket ground. Looking round, Nell saw they had become
separated from the men. She caught Ewan’s eye over the heads of the people between them and mouthed, ‘See you around.’ He
nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgement.


When they got inside the ground they saw that it was rapidly filling up and the special atmosphere of Scarborough Festival
cricket was already all-embracing.


‘Where should we sit?’ asked Jane.

‘How about somewhere in that area below the press box?’ Nell said, indicating the building that housed the sports writers.

‘Good idea, we’ll get a good view straight down the wicket there.’

They hurried towards the area, realising that because of the view it gave it would soon be full. As they passed the pavilion
Nell gave Jane a nudge and with a slight inclination of her head indicated a tall, smartly dressed man in cricket clothes
who had just passed them. ‘Ken Farnes,’ she whispered.


Jane nodded, for she too had recognised the good-looking Essex cricketer.

They found two seats and settled down, Jane wondering what it would be like to be sitting in the press box writing about the
match.


‘You’ve been in Scarborough with your aunt and uncle since early in the year?’ said Nell.

Jane hesitated before replying. She realised that Nell wanted to know more about her, which was only natural. She could not
deny the empathy between them. It was as if they’d been friends for a while already. Nell deserved to know more about her, but Jane could not tell her the whole truth.
Besides, if she did not reveal all, Nell would never know what had truly brought her to live with her uncle and aunt, and
there was no need for her to hear about it. A half-truth would do.


‘You must be wondering why I’m here with my uncle and aunt? There was some trouble at home with my father and it seemed better
that I leave. He imposed a strict regime and we didn’t see eye to eye over what I wanted to do, so I came here.’


‘To live with your uncle?’

‘Yes, he’s my father’s brother but they fell out years ago when we left our home village for better prospects. Uncle David
and Aunt Mavis had no children of their own so Tim and I were always made welcome. It seemed natural I should turn to them
when I left home. They have been very good to me about the whole thing. Now I’m over it, I really must think about finding
a job.’


‘Any ideas?’

‘I haven’t been trained for anything but I have an inclination to write. I might try freelance journalism, to see if I’m any
good.’


‘That could be more interesting than my job, working for my Dad, but I quite like it. I look after his accounts and correspondence,
and it gives me quite a bit of freedom. I’m sorry about your family disagreement and I hope it all turns out well for you.
We’re here for another five days before returning to Lowestoft, so if you’d like to meet up again …’


‘Oh, I would, Nell, really. I feel I’ve found a new friend.’

‘So do I! Let’s make plans after the game. Here come Leveson-Gower’s XI.’

The team, led by their captain R. E. S. Wyatt, was leaving the pavilion. Clapping broke out and was soon coming from every
part of the ground, the white marquees and tubs of flowers on the opposite corner of the field adding to the festival atmosphere. Australia’s batsmen soon followed
and, having sportingly clapped them too, the crowd began to settle down in anticipation of a good contest.


The seats around Nell and Jane were all taken but people were still coming into the ground to find others elsewhere or else
were prepared to stand, particularly outside the beer tents that had been erected along one side of the ground.


‘Seen anything of our lot?’ asked Nell.

Jane shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Most likely have glasses in their hands by now. They won’t be able to do it tomorrow. They sail that night.’

‘Skippers are strict about drinking before sailing, are they?’ asked Jane.

‘Not all skippers but Dad and the other two impose a twelve-hour ban before sailing. They say too much is at stake for anyone
to be sailing while they’re only partly on top of things.’


Their conversation drifted over all sorts of topics or into silence when certain parts of the play became all-engrossing.
Jane felt more contented than she had done for a very long time when they left the ground later, euphoric at having seen the
Australians beaten in England outside of a test match for the first time in seventeen years. In that buoyant mood it seemed
natural that she should accept Nell’s invitation to return with her to the beach.


There the women and children greeted her as if she had always been one of them, and in their general good mood instilled by
enthralling cricket and beer, the men too were equally friendly.


Half an hour later, when everyone reluctantly realised that it was time to break up the party, Jane prepared to make her goodbyes.

‘Join us tomorrow, Jane, if you would like to? I’m sure Nell would appreciate your company,’ Flo Franklin suggested.

Delighted by the offer, Jane had no hesitation about accepting. ‘I would like that very much.’ She glanced at Nell, hoping
that she too was pleased. The smile she received reassured her.


‘Where do you live