by Vicki Beeby
‘Only me.’
Peter muttered the words so quietly, Alex wondered if he’d heard correctly. He fumbled for the right words, but this was so far outside his experience he could find nothing. ‘You—’
But he was saved from having to finish his sentence when Peter burst out with, ‘Maybe I’d feel differently if I’d got this fighting Germans, but it was a stupid accident. Meaningless.’
‘I doubt the pilot you saved would look at it that way. Or his family.’ Alex hadn’t known Peter then, but he’d heard the story from others who had. Peter had been working as an RAF instructor, training fighter pilots in Harvard planes. The trainee pilot had crashed on landing, and the Harvard had burst into flames. Peter had pulled the injured pilot from the cockpit but his leg had been burned so badly in the process it had needed to be amputated.
Peter grunted but didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m thinking of retraining, you know. Applying to fly fighters.’
‘But we need you here.’ Alex gazed at Peter in astonishment. ‘What’s brought this on, all of a sudden?’
‘It’s not sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.’ Peter gazed across the airfield. ‘I thought losing my leg had put an end to my career as a pilot, but then I heard about Douglas Bader. If he can fly with no legs, I can do it with one.’
‘But you’re needed in Ops.’ Alex couldn’t imagine anyone other than Peter, so unflappable in an emergency, controlling the action.
‘There are plenty of men who could do my job, but not so many who can fly fighters. And I’d be up in the air again, Alex. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed it.’
‘I suppose I can understand that.’ Alex tried to imagine how he’d feel if he was permanently grounded. There was a feeling of freedom, of release when he was swooping through the clouds that nothing on the ground could compete with. He had a fleeting thought of spinning round the dance floor with Evie in his arms, but quickly pushed the thought away.
‘Look, promise you won’t say a word about this to anyone,’ Peter said. ‘I haven’t thought it through yet and it might come to nothing.’
‘I won’t say a thing, on the condition you talk to me before making any decisions you can’t back out of.’
‘Done. Well, I suppose I’d better show my face back at the dance.’
About to follow Peter, Alex looked down when his eye was caught by the glint of the setting sun reflecting on something half buried in the grass on the other side of the fence. He crouched down and reached through the fence to pick it up. It was a small glass tube. ‘Strange. What do you think this is?’ He handed it to Peter. It looked a little like a tiny light bulb.
Peter held it up to the dying light and squinted at it. ‘Looks like one of those valves you find in a radio.’
Alex took it back and slipped it in his pocket. ‘Probably dropped by one of the Erks.’ If a member of his own ground crew turned out to be responsible, he’d have them on a charge for wasting precious resources. ‘I’ll show it to our R/T fitter in the morning.’
They strolled back to the hall. On the way, Alex caught sight of a couple in the distance, walking arm in arm. He got an impression of a tall, dark-haired man and a glamorous blonde. As he watched, the man stooped over the woman as though about to kiss her. Alex looked away with a wry grin. It seemed Milan was getting some extra-curricular English lessons from Jess Halloway. Well, at least someone was having a better evening than him and Peter. He could only hope Milan didn’t get his head turned over Jess. She struck him as someone whose heart was not easily touched.
* * *
Much later that night, the three girls were curled up in their armchairs in the schoolroom, sipping cocoa. All three had changed into their pyjamas – they had long ago eschewed nightgowns in favour of more practical nightwear, in case they had to leave the house in a hurry due to an air raid – and were snuggled in blankets they had brought through from their rooms. Evie knew she should go to bed; she had to get up in only five hours to be ready for the early watch. She was too fired up for sleep, though, and she relished this chance to talk through the gossip from the dance. And, more than anything, she wanted to tell them about her conversation with Alex. She still couldn’t work out what it had meant. At first, she had thought he’d been making excuses because he thought she’d developed feelings for him which he didn’t return. But looking back over the way he had looked at her when they were dancing, the way he had confided in her about his family when she knew he was intensely private about his feelings, she wasn’t so sure.
She laughed while Jess entertained them by describing the antics of one of the Czech pilots, but Evie’s mind was still focused on Alex.
‘He didn’t see Kincaith standing right behind him until it was too late.’ Jess wiped her eyes. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall tomorrow when Kincaith tears a strip off him for cheek.’
‘I don’t think Alex will be too hard on him.’ Evie couldn’t resist speaking up in his defence.
Jess arched an eyebrow. ‘Oh, so it’s Alex now, is it? I couldn’t help noticing how cosy the two of you looked dancing together. Is there something we should know?’
‘Course not!’ Evie felt her cheeks burning. But then she relented. Jess had so much more experience than her; if anyone could tell her what Alex had meant, it was her. ‘But…well…he took me aside later and started saying stuff about how things would be different if there wasn’t a war on.’ She related the conversation. ‘What do you think?’
Jess chewed her lower lip. ‘If it was anyone else, I might think they were trying a line on you – making you feel sorry for the heroic pilot who was putting his life on the line for king and country so he could have his way with you.’
Evie’s cheeks burned hotter. Partly at Jess’s frank words, but also from a thrill about what letting Alex ‘have his way’ with her might involve. She hurriedly slammed the door on those thoughts. She had to remind herself that she hardly knew Alex. This was infatuation, nothing more.
‘Not Kincaith, though,’ Jess went on. ‘I’ll give him this much: he’s tough, but he’s not cruel, and he says what he means. What’s more, from the way he looked at you tonight, any fool could have seen that he cares for you. Play your cards right, my girl, and you could land yourself a pilot. And a squadron leader, at that!’
‘I meant it when I said I was serious about my duty,’ Evie said. ‘This isn’t a time for chasing officers – we’ve all got jobs to do. Or didn’t you mean it when we pledged to focus on our work?’ It was easier to deflect the conversation to Jess than examine her feelings about Alex. And she couldn’t put her dread of losing him into words in the superstitious fear that saying it would somehow make it come true.
‘I did mean it. I’ll never forget those poor lads in Brighton. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun in my free time.’ Jess waved away Evie’s protests. ‘Oh, don’t worry – I won’t let my head get turned. Nothing’s going to distract me from my work.’
‘You looked like you were letting Milan distract you.’ Evie had meant to sound light-hearted, but the words came out sounding far more accusing than she’d intended. She’d noticed Jess’s smudged lipstick and Milan’s ruffled hair when they’d returned to the dance after disappearing for some time. She’d attended enough squirm-inducing lectures during her initial training to know what kind of trouble a girl could find herself in, and she hated to think of anything like that happening to Jess.
Thankfully, Jess didn’t take offence. ‘Oh, don’t worry about Milan. I promise I won’t go losing my head over him. He’s a good-looking bloke, but there’s no danger of me falling for a Czech. He’ll be back off to Czechoslovakia when all this is over, so this can never be more than a bit of harmless fun.’
‘Promise me you’ll be careful? You don’t want to end up being kicked out of the WAAF.’
Jess put down her mug on the little table by the arm of her chair and gazed at Evie, her eyes wide. ‘Oh, Evie, that ain’t going to ’
appen. I’m not like that any—’ She bit her lip. ‘I mean, I would never do anything like that. Me an’ Milan had a bit of a kiss and a cuddle, nothing more. And nothing more will happen. All I meant when I said I would have a bit of fun is that I’d go on a few dates with anyone I liked. But there’s no danger of me falling in love.’
Evie leaned forward and placed her hand over Jess’s. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I was worried for you, that’s all.’
‘Don’t be. I promise I won’t do anything that will land me in trouble and I’m not going to fall in love.’
‘I think I’m in love.’
Evie gaped at May. She’d almost forgotten she was there, she’d been so quiet. ‘In love? With Squadron Leader Travis?’
May nodded. She picked at a loose thread in her blanket.
‘Well, go on!’ Jess urged. ‘You can’t drop a piece of news like that and then go silent. Have you told him? Does he love you?’
‘Course I haven’t told him. How – why would I do that? This is the last thing I need.’ May looked so miserable that Evie’s heart went out to her.
‘May, just because I’ve said I’m not interested in getting involved with a man, it doesn’t mean I expect you or anyone else to avoid them.’ Evie hoped May’s present unhappiness wasn’t anything to do with what she’d said. From what she’d seen, Peter Travis had genuine feelings for May, and he was a good man. If anyone needed love and affection in their life it was May, who seemed to have experienced precious little of either from her own family.
Jess chimed in. ‘You’d be mad to turn him down. He’s a squadron leader. And you’ll hardly notice the leg after a while.’
May rounded on Jess. ‘It’s nothing to do with his leg. I’d love him if he had both legs missing.’ She turned to Evie. ‘And I’m not turning him down because of anything you said, Evie. It’s my poor mum.’ May paused and drained her cup.
This was a long speech for May, and Evie thought she’d leave it there, but after she’d put down her mug, May continued in a voice that shook. ‘I watched my dad, and later my brothers, too, wear Mum down. She worked long hours in the house, harder than my ungrateful dad ever did, yet at the end of the day, Dad would put his feet up and not lift a finger while Mum and me cooked, cleaned and did laundry. He treated her no better than a slave, and it killed her in the end.’ May’s voice wobbled, but she shot such a defiant glare at Evie when Evie rose, intending to put her arm round her friend that Evie sank back into her chair. ‘Before she died, Mum warned me not to fall into the same trap. She told me Dad had been all sweetness and soft words right until he got the wedding ring on her finger. He only showed his true colours after that. The WAAF has helped me get away from Dad and my brothers, and I’m not going to give up my freedom by marrying any man, no matter how much I might think I love him.’ Having said her piece, May looked away, pressing her hand to her mouth.
There was a short silence while Evie and Jess stared at May. A wave of pity washed over Evie, and she groped for the right words to comfort her friend. ‘Not all men are like that. My dad was always kind to me and Mum.’ A sudden longing struck her to hear her father’s voice again. He would know exactly what to say.
May shook her head. ‘I’m not saying all men are like that, but it’s impossible to know you’ve married a dud until it’s too late. I’m happy now, for the first time in my life. I’m not going to give that up for any man, no matter how much I…however kind and charming he behaves.’
Evie was sure Peter could never be unkind, and she thought May knew that, deep down. She hoped May would be able to accept Peter’s love one day. There was no danger he could lose his life in the skies. Not like Alex.
Evie shivered. Now the dance was over, life at Amberton would be focused wholly on preparation for the threatened German invasion. Whether it would happen in a few days or weeks, no one knew. But everyone knew that when it came, Amberton’s pilots would be on the front line.
Chapter Ten
Alex gazed morosely as Wagtail squadron’s ‘A’ flight zoomed low over the airfield, ruffling the boundary hedge before coming in to land. No more training flights for them. As the Hurricanes taxied to their dispersal pens, Alex could see lines of bullet holes in the fuselage of one machine and another sported a hole in the tail. He breathed a sigh of relief when all pilots emerged unhurt and ambled towards their dispersal hut. One, however, looked up. On seeing Alex, he waved and jogged over to meet him.
‘Come to see how it’s done?’ It was Brian Sinclair, Wagtail’s CO. He was accompanied by a strong smell of glycol.
‘How not to do it, I’d say,’ Alex replied, pointing to Brian’s Hurricane. It was his tail that had a hole punched through it.
Brian winced. ‘I got caught on the hop. Too busy shooting down a Dornier to spot the 109 hiding in the sun.’
Alex shuddered. The Germans’ favourite tactic was to place themselves between the British aircraft and the sun, rendering themselves all but invisible. He remembered only too well the feeling of dry-mouthed horror at seeing a swarm of 109s appear from nowhere. That was how his own squadron had been ambushed. Suddenly the warmth leached from the air and he was back in the thick of the fight, watching dry-mouthed as the Hurricane that had been flying alongside only moments before now spun towards the ground in a spiral of flames and black smoke. He fought the urge to close his eyes and block out the images. Nothing could ever make him forget what had happened, forget he had led his own pilots to a needless death. Brian was giving him an odd look, so Alex hastily groped for something to say. ‘What was it like out there?’
‘Hotting up, but nothing we can’t handle. They’re still biding their time, testing out tactics.’
‘With a bit of luck, they’ll wait until Brimstone is operational.’
‘How long, do you think?’
‘We’d be ready now, if the lads didn’t keep forgetting to speak English over the radio. Their English is good enough now when they remember to use it. I was on my way to plead my case with Bob when I saw you come in.’ The sooner he got back in the air, the easier it would be to force his guilt to the back of his mind.
‘Good luck with that. We could do with you lot out there.’ Brian clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Better dash. Must write my report before someone else claims my Dornier.’
As Brian strolled off, Alex stood for a while, drawing several deep breaths, waiting for the last of the nightmare images to fade. The pilots who had survived might have forgiven him, but he never could. Finally regaining control, he was about to find Bob when he happened to glance across at his own machine and noticed the R/T fitter at work on it.
He changed course and went to speak to him. ‘Did you find the problem?’ On his last flight, his radio had kept cutting out. It was bad enough trying to keep his pilots organised when they could hear him; it was chaos when they couldn’t.
The fitter nodded. ‘Nothing serious, sir. Just a loose connection. It’s as good as new now.’
Alex thanked him and was about to move away when he remembered the mysterious glass bulb he’d found after the dance. ‘Did you find out about that radio component I showed you?’
‘Yes, it was definitely from our stores. If I find out which careless sod left that lying around, I’ll kick him into next week.’ The fitter paused. ‘Unless it was one of those German parachutists. I read in the paper the Jerries are parachuting in and working with fifth columnists.’
‘I think it’s more likely one of your lads was in a hurry to get down to the pub and dropped it. We’d notice if there was a stranger roaming the station.’
Unless it was someone stationed here. The thought flitted through Alex’s mind as he resumed his walk to the Admin block. The he shook his head and laughed at himself. He was getting as bad as the paranoid reporter who had written the article, warning locals to watch out for parachutists. The team at Amberton were a family, all looking out for each other. No one here was an imposter. The enemy was lurking on the other si
de of the Channel, poised to strike. There was no need to make up any more.
* * *
It didn’t take long for the midsummer dance to become no more than a gilded memory – a fond reminiscence of how good life had been in the distant past. Judging from the grim expressions of the senior officers, attack was imminent. There were increased raids upon shipping, and in the Operations Room, Evie plotted the progress of German fighters as they carried out lightning raids upon convoys in the Channel. Amberton’s squadrons had been ordered to intercept a few of these attacks. She would never forget the heavy silence in the room when the news filtered through that a young pilot from Popcorn squadron had been shot down in flames over the sea. No parachute had been seen. Evie had never spoken to the pilot, but she’d seen him at the dance and had a clear picture of his youthful face as he’d stood with his friends, laughing as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
More than ever, she was grateful that Brimstone squadron had still not been passed for operational flying. She could only pray that she would be able to keep a clear head and concentrate on her work when the wooden blocks on the plotting table represented pilots she’d come to know and like. As for how she would feel when Alex was with them… She tried not to think too hard about that.
As June passed into July, bombing raids began. These were mostly concentrated on Kent and the east coast, but on the fifteenth of July she was saddened to hear that part of Brighton had been bombed. She couldn’t bear to think of damage to the cheerful seaside town that had given her such a happy day. According to Peter Travis, the Germans were still testing out strategies; the main battle was yet to begin. Although their sleep had been interrupted by air raid warnings, no bombs had yet fallen on them, and Evie began to resent having her sleep interrupted, huddling in the shelter in the grounds of High Chalk House while knowing she had a full watch to carry out the next day and another English lesson to deliver.