With her make-up done and her mid-air acrobatics over, she glanced at her markers, knowing she was close. In another fifteen minutes, she was looking down on the aerodrome, her heart pounding as she realised she’d actually made it. The weather had been terrible at times, but the visibility had proven to be sufficient and if she was successful in her landing . . . She pushed the thought of failure out of her mind. This wasn’t just for herself, but the rest of the squadron and the other women pilots who’d managed to get their Class V conversion. She could do it.
She was grateful that she hadn’t had any bored ack-ack units mistaking her for the enemy in the big bomber, and for the fact she hadn’t seen any stray Luftwaffe pilots who wanted to shoot her out of the skies. And she’d been able to make textbook decisions throughout the flight. By all accounts it had already been a success. She eased back and listened to the change in the engine; the more she flew the Halifax, the more she was becoming familiar with it.
Ruby circled and prepared for landing, calmly checking her speed and mentally running through what she had to do. There was no room for error, despite the fact that she had no training in using the landing instruments, and she found herself holding her breath as she approached the runway and successfully touched down.
As she finally cut the engine and sat for a moment, Ruby fought the urge to burst out laughing. She’d actually done it! She’d landed the damn thing as perfectly as could be, and she’d had a perfect flight too. Every worry, every little niggle of doubt, had disappeared. She’d been chosen to be the first pilot, to prove what women could do, and she’d jolly well done it!
She started to climb out, smiling to a mechanic wearing overalls who held out a hand. She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out her dark curls and hoping they weren’t too flat.
‘Where’s the pilot?’ he asked, looking concerned as he hurriedly climbed up.
‘Excuse me?’ she said. Surely they’d been told what a big day it was, that she was the first woman to deliver a Halifax? She’d half-expected a line-up of people waiting for her, applauding what she’d just achieved. Did this flight mechanic honestly not know?
‘Where is he? What’s going on?’ He appeared again, head poking out, and then disappeared, presumably to search the cockpit for the mystery pilot. When he re-emerged, the man’s face was a mixture of horror and humour; she couldn’t decide which.
‘I’m the pilot,’ she said, dusting off her flying suit. ‘I don’t dress like this for the fun of it.’
He was holding her cushion, as if perhaps he’d expected to find a six-foot male beneath it. Did he think she’d somehow abducted the true pilot and made away with his Halifax?
‘What’s this then?’
She stifled a laugh. ‘Well, the rudder pedals are a little hard to reach. I used the cushion to give me a bit more height, although the G force made it jolly hard to stay put in the seat at take-off!’
The look he gave was hilarious – as if she was most definitely trying to pull the wool over his eyes. ‘Have you seen the size of this plane? No disrespect, ma’am, but you’re the size of a grasshopper and this is a beast.’
Ruby went to open her mouth when she heard a low whistle and spun around to see a group of pilots gathered behind her. Perhaps the poor mechanic thought one of them was playing a joke on him.
‘This waif of a girl here is trying to tell me she’s the pilot!’ he exclaimed.
‘Do you see anyone else in there?’ she seethed. ‘Feel free to call Captain MacMillan or, actually, I met Churchill himself the other night. You may send him a telegram to confirm my credentials, if you must.’ She glared at him. ‘Why is it that men think a pilot needs to be two hundred pounds or more to handle a big plane?’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he spluttered.
A voice from the group of men made her limbs turn to jelly. ‘Are you calling my fiancée a liar?’
‘Tom?’ she gasped, scanning the pilots’ faces. With all the fuss she’d almost forgotten that he could be standing watching. But there he was: just behind the others.
‘Hello, Ruby,’ he said, shaking his head as he walked forward, a smile faintly playing across his lips.
She moved a few steps closer, studying his face, resisting the urge to run and throw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t going to be that girl, not after all the letters he’d sent insisting she return home and give up on her dreams. She clenched her fingers and considered whether a short, sharp slap across the cheek might be more appropriate.
‘You know her?’ the mechanic asked. ‘This woman who claims to be the pilot?’
‘I’m engaged to be married to her, actually,’ Tom said, his eyes never for a second leaving her face. ‘But for some reason she’s become very independent in my absence and has taken to flying these monstrosities rather than returning home.’
‘You’re my fiancé, not my keeper,’ she said, her heart beating wildly as she remembered exactly why she’d fallen for him in the first place. His eyes were intoxicating, the way they made her feel like she was the only person in the world. The way his lips kicked up at one side in a smile, and the dark mop of hair that he was constantly having to push back from his forehead. And she loved the way he stood, always confident, always commanding. Only now, she wasn’t in awe of that; she admired it still, of course, but right then and there, on the runway with her Halifax at her heel, she knew she could hold her own. The flight had defined her; it had proven to her exactly what she was capable of. It was the first time she’d truly felt the joy of confidence.
‘So we’re equal now, are we?’ he asked, folding his arms.
She mimicked his stance. ‘We are. And while we’re at it, I’m not putting up with your mother trying to tell me what I can and can’t do.’ She chuckled. ‘As for returning home by my deadline? You can forget it.’
The guys nearby, clearly listening to every word, clapped and hooted, and she broke into a smile. It was impossible to keep a straight face, and she was actually pleased there was an audience to help her embarrass Tom.
‘So what exactly do we do about this, er, situation, Ruby?’
‘We behave like equals,’ she said, taking another step closer, and then another, so close to Tom, so impossibly close that she could smell his scent, knew exactly what it would feel like to press hard into him. ‘I expect you to celebrate with the rest of England that your fiancée is the country’s finest female bomber pilot,’ she whispered, just loudly enough for him to hear now. ‘And then I expect a proper bloody welcome.’
‘Well, maybe you should have asked for that proper bloody welcome first,’ he said.
He caught her around the waist, his mouth finding hers, and she kissed him back. It had been a year and three months since she’d seen the man she was supposed to marry, and if that wasn’t an excuse for a public display of affection, then she wasn’t sure what was. Whistles echoed out behind them, but she didn’t care – this was her man, and she’d just flown a giant plane and landed it like she’d been doing it all her life. She pulled back to look at him, his face between her palms now, before kissing him all over again.
‘I can’t believe my girl landed this beast,’ he whispered in her ear, holding her tight.
‘Well, believe it,’ she whispered back.
‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Actually, half the men in my squadron cut out your photo in the Picture Post and have it beside their beds! I’m reminded on a daily basis that not only are you beautiful, but you might actually be a better pilot than me now!’
She giggled, cheeks warm as she tucked tight against him, not caring about being reprimanded or what anyone might think. Besides, he was the one in the RAF, not her, and she doubted the ATA were going to care about a woman embracing her fiancé after delivering a much-needed plane.
‘I am proud of you,’ he murmured, lips to her hair. ‘I didn’t like it in the beginning. Heck, I didn’t even like it last week, but seeing you fly
in here today . . .’
She looked up at him. ‘I knew if you saw me it’d help to change your mind,’ she said smugly.
‘It’s made me realise how talented you are. I was just worried about you, and I was having to deal with letters from my mother every other week . . .’
Ruby groaned. ‘Please can we not talk about your mother?’
He grinned. ‘Roger that. And I’m sorry, I should never have gone along with her giving you a timeframe to return home.’
They joined the other pilots walking back to the base. ‘We didn’t think you’d be coming, what with the visibility the way it’s been,’ one commented.
‘It was touch and go, but the decision was mine,’ Ruby told him boldly.
‘What do you mean, yours?’ Tom asked.
She felt her pride swell as he looked at her curiously. ‘It’s different for us. We’re charged with deciding whether to go up in fog, rain or even snow. It depends how badly someone needs the plane we’re delivering. Flying without instruments and radio is difficult at the best of times, and when the weather is touchy . . .’
‘Without instruments or radio?’ Tom interrupted, eyebrows knitted. ‘That’s actually true? We thought it was a joke.’
‘It’s just the way it is for us,’ she said, trying to make light of something that put the fear of God into her every time she flew. ‘Now, where will my debrief be? And is there any chance of a hot cup of tea and some sandwiches?’
Tom pointed ahead to a nondescript building and gave her a quick salute. ‘Yes ma’am,’ he teased, bending to give her a quick kiss. ‘The captain awaits you over there.’ He saluted again before breaking into a jog and heading towards another building nearby.
‘How are you getting back?’ another pilot asked, holding out a cigarette to her. She shook her head and he lit it for himself instead.
‘Ah, I believe there is a Hurricane that I need to limp home in,’ she replied. ‘The flights away from base are always good ones, and the ones back usually involve planes that have seen better days.’
‘Well, I’d put those plans on hold,’ he said as he puffed. ‘The weather’s getting worse, and no matter who’s making the decisions, you’d have to have a death wish to head back out with the wind and rain coming up like that.’
Ruby looked up and saw the clouds closing in; a big plop of rain landed on her nose. Being stuck here wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could happen to her, given that she’d found Tom.
She entered the building and saw the captain waiting for her. ‘I hope you’ve got quarters for women,’ she told him by way of greeting, ‘because it looks like you’re stuck with me for the night.’
He stood and held out a hand, beaming. She shook it and stood back, liking the older man with the big bushy moustache immediately.
‘First Officer Sanders, I’ve heard an awful lot about you.’
‘I hope only good things, Captain,’ she replied.
‘My dear, do you have time to talk to some of my men while you’re here?’ he said, pouring himself a nip of whisky and holding up a glass to her. Ruby shook her head. What she needed more than anything right now was a toilet, not more liquid. ‘Those idiots out there keep telling me what bastards Halifax aircrafts are to land, but you just showed a textbook perfect touchdown without seeming to break a sweat. Bravo.’
She bit down on the inside of her mouth, trying not to smile at his praise.
‘I don’t mean to offend, but you’re hardly larger than a child, my dear. Clearly it’s not a matter of brute strength, but skill, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she agreed. ‘They’re not exactly Spitfires, but with half a brain and a dollop of good old determination, I’d say there’s nothing to it.’
The captain let out a hearty laugh just as Tom burst through the door, running his hands through hair that looked more haphazard than she’d ever seen it before.
‘I see you’ve met my fiancée, sir,’ Tom said as he crossed the room, mug in hand, and passed her the steaming brew of tea. She instantly regretted asking for it, given that she hadn’t found a toilet yet.
‘She’s quite the woman, I have to say.’
‘My Ruby is most definitely one of a kind,’ Tom said with a wink in her direction.
‘Well, let’s get your wonderful fiancée to the mess room and see if we can’t rustle her up a nice dinner. What do you say?’ the captain asked.
‘Sounds brilliant,’ she said honestly, clasping her fingers around the mug.
‘You can use the unoccupied quarters of the group captain in his absence. It’ll be basic, but it’ll suffice, and you’ll have your privacy,’ he continued. ‘Tom, see that First Officer Sanders is well looked after for as long as she needs to be here.’
Tom placed a hand on the small of her back and Ruby leaned into him, her arm snaking around his waist.
‘Anything I can get you?’ he asked.
Ruby looked up into his eyes. She’d braced herself for arguments; she’d even been prepared to tell him that it was over between them if he wouldn’t support her. But this . . . this was nice. This was everything she’d been hoping for.
‘A toilet,’ she told him honestly. ‘I think I’m actually in danger of bursting.’
Tom’s laugh was deep as he took her hand and hurried her towards the next building. ‘I’m going to apologise now for all the pictures of scantily clad women on the walls,’ he said. ‘And the picture of you.’
Ruby might have cared before, but given that they had only hours together, that she hadn’t seen him in so long, and now she knew what it was like to be part of a squadron . . . She grinned, and shrugged. Scantily clad women were the least of her problems, so long as they were only in pictures and he hadn’t touched any in real life. But the pictures of her? She doubted she’d ever get used to that.
Hours later, Ruby waited in her room for Tom. She wondered if he would come, if he’d be able to sneak away without being seen or reprimanded; maybe she was hoping for the impossible. She shivered as she waited, more from anticipation than from cold.
She went to the small window and rubbed away the condensation that had clouded the glass. Rain was falling hard on the concrete now. She doubted she’d be stuck for long, but if she was going to be marooned anywhere, it couldn’t get any better than being on base with Tom. In fact, if it had been any of the other airfields, she’d probably have just insisted on flying back. But she was exhausted. Her eyelids were drooping and her body was lethargic, probably because she’d hardly slept the night before, tossing and turning as she’d worried about her big day. She leaned into the window with a blanket around her shoulders, listening to the pitter-patter on the tin roof. She shut her eyes.
Tap, tap, tap.
Her eyes popped open.
A loud knock echoed through the room and Ruby ran to the door. Tom’s hair was wet – droplets of rain were even caught in his eyelashes – and she grinned back at him as he gave her a big, wide smile.
‘Tom!’ she said, hauling him in and quickly pushing the door shut. ‘Get in here.’
He stood there, his grin slowly fading. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually here,’ he said, shaking his head and sending water flying. ‘I can’t believe, after everything, that we’re standing here together.’
Ruby lifted one hand and touched his jaw, tracing along it as she stared up at him. She suddenly didn’t feel tired anymore. And she didn’t want to talk anymore, either.
He slipped his arms around her, circling her waist. ‘The guys are still talking about you. You’d think they’d just seen an elephant land a plane.’
‘You’re comparing me to an elephant?’
Tom chuckled. ‘Oh, I just mean they’re acting like, well, as if it’s so unusual . . .’
‘Stop talking and kiss me,’ she muttered, standing on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Tom’s lips met hers, softly at first, brushing like silk back and forth. Ruby shut her eyes and bathed in t
he warmth of him, his embrace, the way he deepened their kiss and left her gasping.
‘We only have one night,’ he said. ‘All this time I’ve been imagining our first night together, wondering when I was ever going to see you again, and then you just drop from the sky like an angel.’
She touched her forehead to his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat, loving the feel of his body against hers. ‘I still can’t believe I was the first one.’
‘To fly a four-engine bomber?’ he asked, tucking his fingers beneath her chin to raise her head.
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Lizzie thought it was going to be her, but they chose me. Imagine what your poor mother would say. I mean, how unladylike!’
Tom kissed her forehead before pulling her tight to him again. ‘I thought we weren’t talking about my mother tonight.’
‘No. You’re right.’
‘Although I will tell you that in her last letter she said you were small enough to be mistaken for a child, and she was going to demand to know how a woman of such petite stature was able to rise through the ATA ranks so fast.’
‘She didn’t!’ Ruby gasped, looking up at him.
Tom was laughing, but she could tell from the guilty look on his face that he wasn’t joking.
‘It’s the truth,’ he said. ‘But you’ll be pleased to know that I’m going to reply.’ He kissed her again, his fingers tracing her face. ‘And this time I’m going to tell her that if she says another bad word against you, either to me personally or to anyone else, I won’t be returning home after the war.’
‘You’re serious?’ Ruby asked, holding his hand as she moved them both closer to the little stove. ‘After all this time, you’re going to do that?’
‘I am.’ He smiled. ‘Listening to those guys out there, seeing you with my own eyes – it’s like being smacked across the face. I’ve had some sense knocked into me, and to hell with her stupid deadline.’
Ruby gazed up at him, trying not to laugh. ‘Well it’s about time, Thomas,’ she teased.
‘Easy,’ Tom said, grabbing her wrist and giving her a wicked smile. ‘Now let’s get this bedding beside the fire and you can tell me all about your training and what it’s like at Hamble.’
The Spitfire Girls Page 16