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Chapter 5: Revelations In The Bar
The two lighthouse keepers were the last to hear anything for certain of the Silver Wing or Jean Alardyce, the Flying Scot.
The crew of a steamer, south west of the Scillies, reported a brief flash in the clouds, far to the south of their position and where Silver Wing should have been at the time but thought nothing of it at the time and did not report it until the Silver Wing was reported over due. Nothing was found when ships were sent to search the area.
It was two days later when Bertie saw Alice in the tennis club bar. She was staring glumly into her martini. The press were already speculating about the fate of the Silver Wing and its pilot. In spite of the briefness of their meeting Alice felt it was as though an old friend had suddenly disappeared.
“You're looking a bit bleak for someone that's still got gin in her glass,” Bertie grinned as he sat down at her table.
“Don't be an ass, Bertie, I'm just not in the mood,” Alice snapped. “She's gone hasn't she? There's been no word of her, no sign of the plane, nothing.”
“Well, you never know,” he stammered, disconcerted by her blunt tone. “She might have put down somewhere, engine problems, radio failure…”
“Is it likely? I mean, what do they think out at the airfield?”
“To be honest, they are all a bit gloomy. I don't think anyone's optimistic.” Bertie saw her shoulders slump. “Sorry old thing but your right I'm afraid. The mood's pretty bleak up there. There were two radios on board, she wasn't seen after leaving the coast, and there's that ship's report.”
“So what do they think happened?”
“Probably a problem with the engine overheating – the plane had so much fuel on board – that could have been an explosion the ship saw – she wouldn't have known anything about it, you know, it would have been instantaneous.”
“But engines don't just blow up do they?” Alice took another sip of her drink. It did nothing to cheer her.
Bertie had lit his pipe again. The bar steward peered suspiciously at him. “ Alice I don't know one end of an engine from another – if I have to lift the bonnet on the Bugatti its just one big lump of metal to me. All I know is that she was flying a high performance machine and she was pushing it as far as it would go. It was all she ever wanted to do, you know.”
“Yes, I'm sure. It's just that when we met just that once she seemed so alive. And now, well … Still I can't imagine she would have wanted to go any other way.”
“Probably right, old thing,” Bertie lifted his glass. “Let's toast absent friends anyway,” he said, “I guess none of us can avoid it if the writing is on the wall.”
Alice looked up suddenly. “What did you say?” she said.
“Absent friends?” said Bertie, lifting his glass again.
“No, after that... the writing on the wall, you said. Oh, don't worry – it's just I think I have worked out what's been bothering me.” Alice 's mood seemed to have changed. Suddenly she was brighter. “Look - I think I need to talk to someone about Jean. Did this chap Clegg know her well?”
“Not very well but then I don't think anyone did – she was a loner really, never comfortable if she wasn't in the cockpit. She and Clegg had been working on some contracts, joint plans for a future flight, things like that. What's the problem?”
“That might do. I think I'd like to talk to Mr Clegg, I'm probably just being silly and perhaps he could re-assure me. Could you arrange it?”
Bertie scratched his head and drew on his pipe. “Well yes, of course, I'll try. He's always busy but I can give him a call up at the field if you like. There's a phone in the club room there now I think.”
“Oh, Bertie, you are a sweetie,” Alice Graham jumped up and planted a kiss on the shocked Bertie's forehead.
“I say, old girl,” he blushed.
Alice bounced out of the club bar towards her car and sped off.
Later, everyone agreed that her behaviour that day had been odd. Apparently morose one minute and exuberant the next, she'd seemed like someone that wasn't entirely in control of their emotions. The Honourable Bertie Graham had known she'd been upset by Jean Alardyce's disappearance but he would never have guessed that Alice would do what she seemed to have done next.
The police called at Bertie's home the following morning. They understood that Bertie had seen Miss Graham at the tennis club the previous afternoon. They were anxious to understand what her mood had been. They were very concerned. Alice 's cherry red Austin 7 tourer had been found parked by the beach, the car was full of pictures of Jean Alardyce cut from newspapers. Wedged against the windscreen was the menu card that Jean had signed at the tennis club only days before. Alice was nowhere to be seen but a trail of her clothes led from the car, across the beach, towards the water's edge. The police feared the worst. Alice Graham, the police said, seemed to have gone to join her heroine.
Bertie wasn't able to help the police much beyond the fact that he had seen Alice 's car up at airfield at around seven o'clock the previous evening and that she had seemed fine when he had last seen her. In that respect, at least, he was being completely truthful.
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