‘Oh, sod off, Wailing Willy!’ Lizzie muttered. ‘My one night. My one night away from base!’
Ruby sighed as people around them began to hurry for shelter. ‘Looks like I’m heading for my nice hotel bed after all.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
HAMBLE AIRFIELD, HAMPSHIRE,
JUNE 1942
RUBY
Ruby looked up when she heard the click of heels across the concrete floor. She’d been knitting, something she had never been good at and didn’t seem to be getting any better at, but it was an easy way to pass the time as she listened to the wireless and tried not to worry about what was happening at the front or whether her engagement was over. In light of everything that was happening to their country, it seemed so stupid that she and Tom were at odds, that they were arguing about anything at all. But it had certainly been heartening to hear that the Allies were successfully bombing parts of industrial Germany; it gave her hope that they were making progress, and it wasn’t all for nothing.
It was May crossing the room, wearing a grim expression as she marched towards the flight board, which told Ruby exactly what was about to happen. She’d barely seen her commander since they’d returned from their night at the Savoy; they’d been ferrying multiple planes on every shift. The other women were lounging at tables, chatting and knitting too, with Lizzie reading rather than taking up the ‘sock-knitting for soldiers’ crusade the rest of them were on, but they all stopped what they were doing now.
Who was missing? Who hadn’t returned? May strode past them all without so much as a good morning. Did it mean they’d lost someone? Had they had their first fatality?
Lizzie caught her eye, looking serious for once, and Ruby gulped as May stopped, reached for a cloth and rubbed out a name from the board. When she turned to face them, tears shone in her eyes, but she never said a word; just stood there, silent, as they all watched her.
Ruby had heard that if anyone died, if they didn’t return, their name would simply be erased from the board as though it had never existed, and she was afraid that it would be one of the girls she’d made friends with.
‘Susan?’ one of the other pilots gasped.
Ruby dropped her knitting and reached for Betty’s hand, holding it tight as tears ran silently down the other woman’s cheeks. A sob lodged in her own throat, but she stifled it, checking her emotion.
‘How?’ Lizzie asked, her voice like a rasp.
‘Girls, let me make it clear that Susan isn’t dead, but she won’t be rejoining us. She parachuted out in bad visibility to avoid going down with her plane,’ May responded, her reply sounding rehearsed and wooden. ‘Polly was flying the same course and has reported that the cloud cover was like a thick blanket, so she trusted her gut and dropped down to 600 feet. She was able to land, but Suzy followed protocol and stayed high, electing to parachute out when things went bad.’ May smiled tightly. ‘Somehow she ended up miles off course over the Thames Estuary, and an extremely gallant officer leapt from a nearby naval vessel and dived in to search for her. She was rescued and hauled onto the boat, before being taken to the closest hospital, where she’s suffering from hypothermia and damage to her lungs. We’re told she should make a full recovery, but she’ll be returning home to recuperate following her discharge.’
Relief washed over Ruby, but it was quickly replaced with anger. Susan could easily have been their first fatality, and it was only luck that it had been a near miss. She hated that all they had up there in the sky were their instincts!
‘If we were trained with instruments and allowed to use our bloody radios in emergencies at least, this sort of thing wouldn’t be happening,’ she said, her cheeks flooding with heat as she stared defiantly at May. ‘You know it and I know it, yet for some reason we’re treated as second-class pilots. Are they waiting for one of us to end up in a coffin? Will protocol change then?’
‘I agree,’ Lizzie echoed. ‘You can bet your bottom dollar that when I’m leading a squadron, I won’t stand for it. It’s ridiculous that we’re treated this way!’
Ruby was shocked that Lizzie had sided with her, but the girls had all swung from horror to annoyance that they weren’t trained with instruments.
May stood immobile. ‘The lack of radio is for our own good and for the safety of everyone, and I’m not going to officially comment on the instrument status, other than to state that, well . . . we’re all experienced pilots, and smart women at that. We all know the difference instruments and a radio would make. But orders are orders, and each and every one of us knows what we signed up for and what the hazards are. Nothing has changed.’
‘What was she flying?’ Lizzie asked.
‘A Spitfire,’ May replied.
‘You know what Suzy used to say about them?’ Lizzie asked, a smile playing across her lips. ‘She’s a lady up in the air and a bloody bitch on the ground.’ Her faux-English accent was worse than terrible, and made everyone laugh.
‘But when she flies, oh baby does she fly!’ Ruby finished for her.
They all laughed again, and when Ruby looked across at May she mouthed, ‘Sorry’ – and meant it. She shouldn’t have stepped out of line and challenged her; as senior commander, May had the authority to reprimand her for disrespecting their rules. She hoped a private apology later would smooth things over.
May addressed them all again. ‘The Anson taxi has arrived, ladies, and you’ll be heading directly to the factory. From there you will transport the new aircrafts to Thorney Island Airfield before returning assorted damaged planes for repair at various airfields. I trust you’ll all use your best judgement on your return flights. Please refer to your chits to see where and what you’re flying. Stay strong, and don’t question your instincts.’
Ruby gathered her tangled knitting from the floor and began to follow the others to the toilet, knowing it could be some time before she’d be able to use one again. Unlike their male counterparts who were able to relieve themselves with their special tubes and pilot their aircraft, women didn’t have the same luxury.
‘Ruby,’ May called. ‘Lizzie, you too.’
Ruby turned and caught Lizzie’s eye as they both walked back to May. There had been some tension between them since the Picture Post article, and Ruby had no idea how to tackle the ever-present rivalry between them; though Lizzie had also been preoccupied with ruffling the feathers of Captain Montgomery, which had helped somewhat.
May regarded them calmly as they reached her.
‘What is it?’ asked Lizzie.
‘Tomorrow is the day,’ May said quietly. ‘The weather isn’t looking ideal, but we’re to decide tomorrow which woman will be taking the first official solo flight in a Halifax.’
Ruby’s stomach felt like it had dropped a hundred feet. Her mouth went dry. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Lizzie echoed.
May nodded. ‘Be prepared – it’s going to be stiff competition and no decision has been made as yet. I’ll most likely be joined by Major Grey, Captain Montgomery and perhaps even MacMillan. The powers that be have a lot riding on a successful first flight, so the more decision-makers we have, the better.’ Ruby was surprised when May gave her a quick hug, and then did the same to Lizzie. ‘You both be careful out there today.’
‘Always,’ Ruby replied, squeezing May’s arm.
Ruby felt a tremor through her body as she followed Lizzie in silence to their ride. Tomorrow she’d know which of them had won, and for the first time she felt a shiver of anticipation that she could actually do it. The title could be hers for the taking, and if she did get it she’d prove to Tom and her demanding future mother-in-law that she was most definitely talented and capable enough to be in the sky.
She hadn’t heard from Tom since her face had been plastered across the Picture Post, and she was terrified by what his mother might have said about it. At least her own mother had loved it, and that was all she was letting herself focus on. The war was bigger than their relationship, what she was doi
ng was bigger than their relationship, so she had to press on regardless and believe that, somehow, it would all work out.
‘I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,’ Lizzie whispered, as Ruby took her seat next to her in the Anson plane.
‘I know.’ She didn’t want to talk about it. Her stomach was doing cartwheels just thinking about it.
‘You know, I have this strange feeling our superiors have already chosen you. In fact, I’ve known it from the moment I saw the Picture Post,’ Lizzie said matter-of-factly. ‘The powers that be know the importance of good propaganda, and choosing the perfect English rose is a logical decision.’
Ruby’s cheeks flamed. Lizzie might be one of the best fliers, but sometimes she was just downright rude! ‘I’ll have you know that I’m a darn good pilot, Lizzie!’ she hissed. ‘How dare you belittle me as if I’m somehow second-grade!’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘I don’t mean to ruffle your feathers. I’m just saying I can understand why they wouldn’t want an American to be the first. I can be the first at home. My time will come, so I’m happy for you.’
Ruby snorted. ‘You’re bloody unbelievable sometimes, Lizzie. But you’re wrong. You heard May. They’re deciding tomorrow – the best pilot will be chosen, and that’s that.’ She actually wanted it more than anything now, wanted to stick it to Lizzie and to Tom, show them that she was capable. But even thinking like that made her feel shallow. Thinking like that makes me as bad as Lizzie, acting like our personal competition is even important, given the state of the country right now.
As they prepared for take-off, the girls all shuffled forward, helping the twin-engine aircraft by transferring their weight. It easily took up to twelve passengers, but they’d learned fast to move up the front to help with weight distribution.
Ruby ignored Lizzie as the plane finally lifted, glancing across at June, who was holding a hot water bottle to her stomach. She felt sorry for her. They all resorted to them when they had their period; at least being in an all-female ferry pool they had nothing to hide from one another.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie finally said, reaching out her hand to Ruby’s. ‘I know we’re supposed to be trying to get along, and you’re right, you’re a good pilot and I need to learn to shut my mouth.’
‘You’re only sorry because you’ve realised you haven’t lost yet,’ Ruby huffed. She had a mind to slap Lizzie’s hand away, but she didn’t have it in her to be rude.
‘Not true!’ protested Lizzie. But she withdrew her hand and busied herself with her ferry notebook. When she looked up, she changed the subject. ‘What’s on your chit today?’
‘I’m to fly an Oxford on the first leg of my return,’ Ruby replied. ‘Then a Hurricane back to White Waltham.’
Lizzie gave her a surprised look. ‘Me too. Well, not the first one, but I’m heading back to White Waltham at the end of the day as well.’
Ruby didn’t think anything of it until she opened her notebook to read up on the Hurricane she’d be bringing back, wanting to use her time wisely. She’d flown them before, but she still remembered having less than an hour to prepare for her first ever flight in one. It had always amused her that they were given these perfect little 4x6 cards bound on two rings that supposedly contained everything they needed to know about an aircraft, from flying speeds to cruising, landing and stalling speeds. The men who flew them had direct training in each aircraft, but they seemed to think a quick read on the way to collect a plane was enough for the ferry pilots.
‘Oh,’ she said, puzzled as a note fell out.
There will be a car waiting to take you to London to attend an event tonight. I need both you and Lizzie there with me. I’ll tell you more when I see you. Your uniforms will be waiting in your room at the Savoy. Fly safe. MJ
‘I just . . .’ Ruby started, as Lizzie held up an identical note.
‘Seems our commander has been keeping secrets from us, but I’m not about to complain about another night out in London.’
‘Me neither.’ Ruby touched her small bag, pleased she always took her powder and lipstick with her on every flight. The last thing she wanted was to spend all day flying and then look dowdy come nightfall. ‘Especially if we get to stay the night in a comfortable bed with a feather pillow ahead of our big flight tomorrow.’
CHAPTER NINE
LONDON, JUNE 1942
MAY
May took a deep breath as she surveyed the crowd she was about to plunge into. Compared to flying, it was akin to navigating a minefield.
She straightened her shoulders and self-consciously touched her hair. It had been a long time since she’d had to worry about her appearance – usually brushing her hair and teeth and ensuring her uniform was immaculate were all she had to be concerned about. But today she was wearing make-up, her pink lipstick applied with a shaky hand as she’d wondered who the woman in the mirror really was. She’d started out with the ATA feeling so young and so terribly inexperienced, but the face looking back at her had a maturity far beyond what she felt. She looked capable of being a senior commander now. Inside, she yearned to turn back the clock, to be her old self again: the fun, inquisitive, ready-for-anything girl. Sometimes she wondered if that version of herself was even in there any longer.
I also wonder what that girl would think about trying to impress a roomful of dignitaries, politicians and wealthy Londoners.
On paper she could convey anything she needed to get across, and on base, she never doubted herself or her decisions. But the room she was standing in made her feel way out of her depth. And her brother was lurking in her mind today, perhaps as a result of the letter she’d received from her mother. She could have made the hour-long drive to see her, or she could even have told her to come to London to meet her; but just imagining the sadness in her mother’s gaze was enough to stop her. She couldn’t deal with that, or going home knowing she was never going to see Johnny there again, that she’d never laugh with him and share a meal at their kitchen table, or tease him about one of his many girlfriends.
‘I didn’t think I was going to make it, but here I am.’
May turned and found herself staring at Ben. Her jaw dropped as she took in his black suit and bow tie, his freshly shaved cheeks and his hair brushed back from his face.
‘Benjamin!’ she exclaimed, laughing as he took her hand and leaned in for a kiss. ‘Oh my gosh!’
‘Is this what I’m supposed to do? Kiss your cheek and tell you how great you look?’ he teased.
‘That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.’ She was so used to seeing him in his overalls, grease smeared over his fingers and his hair all haphazard, that for a moment she didn’t realise how quickly she’d laughed, like she hadn’t in years. There was definitely something about Ben that was good for her soul. ‘You scrub up rather well.’
Now it was him laughing. ‘Don’t go giving me a big head.’
She’d asked him to partner her, mostly so that she had someone with her before the others arrived, and she was pleased she had. She looked skyward, wondering if Johnny was laughing down at her, seeing how rattled she was. She felt so comfortable around Ben, but seeing him in a tuxedo made her realise he wasn’t necessarily the brother figure she’d always viewed him as.
‘Should I get you a drink?’ Ben asked. ‘Or do you want me to stay here with you?’
She smiled at him. ‘Stay with me,’ she said. ‘I’m as confident as can be in the sky, but put me in a room full of strangers and I go back to being a nervous little girl.’
He held out his arm and she looped hers through it. It was Ben, and no matter how he might look, he was still the same flight mechanic that he’d always been. And there was something about him that allowed a flicker of her old self to come to the surface.
‘I won’t leave you,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers.
‘Good evening, Commander.’ The warm, rich American accent caught her attention and May turned to see Jackson Montgomery. He stepped forward to kiss her cheek.
<
br /> ‘Jackson! Look at you, dashing as can be in that tuxedo!’
‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Jackson said with a grin. ‘Thank you.’
‘Champagne?’ Ben asked, taking glasses from a passing waiter.
May gratefully accepted hers and took a small sip.
‘It’s nice to see you here tonight, Ben,’ Jackson said. ‘Nothing beats a night off base, huh?’
Jackson held up his glass to first May and then Benjamin, and she clinked it, hoping neither man had noticed her flushed cheeks.
‘May, I’ve been wanting to have a quiet word with you about something, although it’s not something I should be sharing,’ Jackson said in a low voice. ‘It’s about the pay disparity between male and female pilots.’
She exchanged glances with Ben. ‘Pay disparity?’ she repeated. ‘Are we not paid the same?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said, moving closer and glancing over his shoulder. ‘This didn’t come from me, though – they’d have my head on a block if they found out I’d told you.’
May almost choked on her drink, the bubbles catching in her throat. ‘How have they got away with this?’
‘There she is! The one and only Commander Jones!’
May turned at the sound of her name, the room seeming to fall quiet just as she locked eyes with the deputy prime minister. She’d been told Winston Churchill himself would be attending, but now that she was faced with his second in command, Clement Attlee, she guessed that might no longer be the case.
‘Thank you so much for inviting me tonight,’ she said, not telling him that he’d missed the senior part of her title, something she was certain any male commander would have pointed out immediately. ‘It’s an honour.’
‘The honour is entirely ours,’ he said, looking slightly awkward. ‘Now, do tell me, will there be other pilots joining us tonight? We’d like to wait until they are here to thank you all at the ATA for your service.’
To say she was surprised was an understatement. For so long they’d been merely tolerated, and now they were being celebrated? Perhaps it was to do with them taking over the Class V bombers, which were so essential to the war – it might have helped change opinions. With four-engine bombers being delivered as fast as they were made available, their boys had more firepower at their fingertips than ever before.
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