A Kestrel Rising Read Online Free Page A

standing with Faith’s boyfriend, his hands in his pockets, deep in conversation. He glanced up as the chattering group of girls approached and something inside Ilona did a slow flip when he spotted her and smiled.
    Everyone else seemed to fade away. “Hello, Ilona Lowe,” he said, softly.
    “Hello.”
    He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. “Shall we go?” he asked. “I promise that you won’t have to drive the bus.”
    She laughed. “That makes a change.”
    He leaned close and whispered, “The bus driver isn’t half as pretty as you. I think she has chin hairs which, luckily, we can’t see in the dark.” He guided her along the bus then sat beside her and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. It felt completely right to her, while the bus rumbled toward the village. The land was in darkness because of the blackout, the only light came from the moon as it passed between the gathering clouds. It seemed strange to be away from the artificial world of the airfield and Ilona realized it was the first time she had seen the village since she’d arrived at Catterick. The bus pulled up in front of a white building that stood on the edge of a green.
    “It’s lovely here in the warm weather,” Ian told her. “You can take your drinks and sit out on the grass.”
    Ilona peered into the dimness. She made out the vague outline of an old stone cross and a large tree, before her companion led her into the warmth and brightness of the pub. The landlord had pulled several tables together in front of the fire. Ian grabbed two chairs at the far end and helped her with her coat. “What would you like to drink?” he asked, when she sat down.
    “Sherry, please.”
    When he returned with the drinks, he pulled his chair closer to hers. He raised his glass to her. “Thanks for coming, and here’s to a nice evening. The first of many, I hope.”
    “I hope so too.” She sipped her sherry.
    “It’s an unusual name, Ilona,” he said. “Is it a family name?”
    “It’s Hungarian.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Hungarian?”
    “My father was Hungarian, not that I ever knew him. He’d died before I was born and my mother not long after.”
    “I’m sorry about your parents.”
    “It’s all right. I don’t even remember my mother. To me, my aunt and uncle will always be my parents.” She took another sip of sherry. “What about you? All I know is that you’re from Scotland and you can fly a plane.”
    “Nothing so exotic. I was born in Glasgow. I have three brothers. My mum is a nurse and my dad works in a shipyard. I went to university and I just started my first year as a teacher when the war started. I was always mad about planes and determined to fly them, so, here I am.” He rested his chin on his hand and looked at her. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”
    She gazed back, smiling. “Nor me.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Ilona was sorry when someone announced that the bus was due. Ian helped her into her coat and they walked out into the icy night with the others. The moon had disappeared and Ilona fancied she could smell snow in the wind. It swirled across the green, stirring up old, dead leaves that rattled across the road. She shivered.
    Ian took her hand in his and tucked them both in his coat pocket. “There’s a dance at the NAAFI next week,” he said. “Will you come with me?”
    “I’d love to.” She smiled at him, feeling something inside leap at the thought.
    His eyes glittered in the darkness. “It’s a date, then. I should warn you. I can’t dance all that well.”
    “I don’t mind, neither can I.”
    The bus pulled up with a hiss of brakes and the revelers slowly made their way to their seats. Ilona was content to sit quietly with her hand in Ian’s while his fingers wound their way through hers. He traced idle circles on her palm with his thumb. She could have sat like that for a long time, trying to work out how such a simple gesture could