A Flight of Golden Wings

by Beryl Matthews

  Lucy now had her own battle to deal with in trying to come to terms with Dave’s death. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her, but they were all here for her. She wouldn’t lack love and support.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lucy threw herself into her work as she tried to deal with the loss of Dave. Ruth’s admiration grew for the lovely American girl who had become a treasured friend. Jack and Simon were also there to support when needed. It was only five weeks since the tragedy and it was clear that Lucy was making a huge effort to move on with her life, and Ruth knew just how difficult that was. It had taken her a long time after her brother’s death. Flying had been her way to healing, and Lucy was finding it the same. She flew constantly, only taking a day off when she was ordered to do so. But no one worried about her flying, for she was far too good a pilot to take unnecessary chances. Like all of them, if the conditions were bad she wouldn’t take off.

  Making her approach to Little Rissington, Ruth set the plane down and taxied to the parking area. As she jumped out it was obvious that the men were all talking animatedly. Wondering what was going on, she went straight to check in. There was an air of excitement around the place.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, as she handed over the delivery chit.

  ‘Haven’t you heard? Paris has been liberated!’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ She glanced at the date of the ferry chit – 25th August. This was a day that would go down in history. It was a milestone in the war.

  ‘Berlin next,’ the officer said.

  Ruth couldn’t wait to get back to White Waltham. They’d all go out and celebrate tonight. ‘Have you got something else for me?’

  ‘There’s a Dakota for Luton. Can you take that? We’ve got a flight engineer who needs to get to Luton, and he can come with you.’

  She nodded. It always amused her that the plane was named after the state Lucy and Jack came from. ‘I need to phone my ferry pool and let them know where I’m going and see if a taxi can pick me up from Luton.’

  Arrangements were soon made and Ruth was once again in the air, singing quietly to herself. Things were going well, and she hoped Jack was back from his jaunt across the Channel. He’d been there overnight and was expected back sometime today.

  As it happened, she was able to pick up an Oxford from Luton and didn’t need the taxi. It was late in the afternoon before she arrived back at her ferry pool.

  When she walked into the Mess it was as if a dark cloud was filling the place. The atmosphere was completely different. No one was celebrating the liberation of Paris. Lucy was as white as a sheet and everyone else seemed stunned.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Ruth asked, the words barely audible.

  Simon left Lucy’s side and came to her. He didn’t mess about, but told her the news straight away. ‘Jack’s missing, Ruth. The Spitfire he was delivering never arrived. The weather turned nasty evidently and he might have landed at another field. We’re waiting to hear.’

  She felt as if someone had hit her very hard and rocked her back on her heels. She gathered her senses together as best she could. ‘But you’d have heard from him if he had.’

  ‘Yes.’ Simon’s expression was grim. ‘Let’s hope he didn’t come down in the sea.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ The room began to sway.

  Simon stood in front of her, shielding her from the rest of the room. ‘Breathe deeply,’ he murmured.

  As she did this she steadied again. Touching his arm to indicate her thanks for his understanding, she straightened up and walked towards Lucy. There was no need to give up hope so soon, and this double blow was going to tear Lucy apart. Ruth sat beside her, taking hold of her hand. She was shaking badly from the shock. ‘They’ll find him,’ was all she could think of to say.

  When Lucy looked up she was dry-eyed with terror. ‘Not Jack as well,’ she moaned. ‘That’s too much, Ruth. Too much. How am I going to tell Mom?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say anything just yet. Wait until we have some definite news.’ Ruth steeled herself to offer comfort, but all she wanted to do was find a place on her own and curl into a tight ball until the pain disappeared. The man she adored might never come back. All she’d have left were blissful memories of his lazy smile and spending nights in his arms. She had always known that after the war he would return to America, but she didn’t want to lose him like this. Please God, she pleaded silently, not like this.

  Her whole being rebelled at the direction her thoughts were taking. He wasn’t dead! She wouldn’t accept that. Many things could have happened, and he would probably turn up tomorrow, quite unaware of the distress he had caused. She clenched her teeth together in an effort to gain control. The last thing she must do is fall apart. Lucy needed her to be strong and positive.

  ‘My car’s outside.’ Simon was bending down in front of them. ‘I’ll take you home.’

  The next day Ruth and Lucy were back at work, needing to be kept busy. They were anxious for news, but at the same time afraid that when it came it would be what they didn’t want to hear.

  Lucy had said very little, but Ruth knew neither of them had slept. She had listened to the muffled crying from the other bedroom and hadn’t been able to stop her own silent tears from soaking the pillow. When dawn had finally arrived, Ruth had wanted nothing more than to stay where she was. Fear swamped her, but she could hear Jack saying, ‘Come on, honey, there are planes to fly.’

  Simon was already at the airfield when they arrived. Without them saying a word, he just shook his head to let them know that there wasn’t any news yet.

  One day stretched into another, and the longer they went without news, the more chance there was that Jack was lost to them for ever.

  ‘Four days,’ Lucy said, when they returned home after another long day. ‘I haven’t told Mom yet, but I can’t leave it much longer, Ruth. I asked the ATA to let me tell her. I can’t bear the thought of her just receiving an official letter saying he’s missing. They have given me the letter, but I haven’t had the courage to send it. The news should come from me.’ The tears began to trickle down her cheeks. ‘This is going to break her heart.’

  ‘Would you like me to write to her as well?’ Lucy was right; they had delayed too long. Jack’s mother had a right to know.

  ‘He’s dead, isn’t he, Ruth?’ The words came out in a sob.

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  Lucy lifted her tear-stained face, her mouth set in a straight line. ‘Yes, we do. I’ll try and write that letter to Mom, and I’m sure it would be a comfort to hear from you as well.’

  ‘All right, but we might receive news soon. He can’t have disappeared. Someone must know something. Give it one more day, Lucy.’ Ruth knew that sounded silly. Many people had just disappeared in this war, but she was clutching at any thin sliver of hope.

  The next morning, they were collecting their ferry chits when Simon caught them. ‘Lucy, there are a couple of American pilots who have ferried bombers across. They’re going back today and have said they’ll take you.’ He tipped his head to one side enquiringly. ‘Would you like to see your mother? They’ll bring you back in two days’ time.’

  ‘Oh, that would be a blessing. I’ve tried many times to write to Mom, but I just haven’t been able to put it into words. It seems so impersonal.’

  ‘It’ll be better if you can see her, won’t it?’

  She nodded, her bottom lip trembling as she hugged him. ‘Thank you, Simon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘You’d manage,’ he said as he removed the ferry chit from her hands. ‘I’ve fixed it for you to have some time off and I’ll do your deliveries today. Now, you’d better hurry. They’re leaving in fifteen minutes.’

  Lucy turned to Ruth and clasped her hands. ‘I’ll be back.’

  ‘Give your mother my love, won’t you, and tell her I’ll be writing soon.’

  ‘Sure will.’

  Simon and Ruth watched her run out to the waiting p
lane, climb in, and it immediately taxied for take-off. Lucy was on her way home to America.

  ‘Hi, Mom.’

  Bet spun around at the sound of her daughter’s voice. She had the wireless playing Glenn Miller and hadn’t heard her arrive. She stared for a moment, too stunned to move or speak as she took in the sight of Lucy standing in the kitchen. She was wearing her ATA uniform, and Bet felt as if her heart would burst with pride. She’d raised a couple of fine children.

  ‘Lucy!’ she squealed and threw herself at her daughter, hugging with all her might. The questions poured out. ‘Where did you come from? Where’s Jack, is he with you? Are you home for good?’

  ‘I’m only here for two days … and Jack isn’t with me.’

  It was only then Bet realised that something was terribly wrong and her joy turned to sickening dread. She gripped Lucy’s arms fiercely. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘He was delivering a plane to France, but he never arrived. They haven’t found him, Mom. He’s officially listed as missing.’ Lucy’s eyes misted with tears.

  ‘Missing?’ Bet had been steeling herself to hear that her darling son was dead, but the word missing ignited a spark of hope. ‘Then he could still be alive.’

  Lucy shook her head miserably. ‘It’s been five days, Mom. If he’d been alive they would have found him by now.’

  ‘No! I can’t accept that. If my boy had died I would have known.’ She wanted to yell and know why the hell she hadn’t been told about this at once, but when she saw the tears rolling down Lucy’s face, she hugged her again, her own tears mingling with those of her daughter. ‘Ah, sweetie, you’ve had a terrible time, haven’t you, what with losing Dave, and now this. But don’t give up hope. Jack will turn up alive and well, you’ll see. You’re tired out. Stay home and have a nice rest.’

  ‘I have to go back the day after tomorrow. Simon’s managed to get me a lift in a bomber being ferried to England.’

  Bet nodded, desperately needing Lucy to stay, but she understood her need to get back. For that is where Jack would go. ‘I wish I could come with you.’

  ‘Once this war’s over you must come and meet everyone, Mom. Ruth’s folks have been so kind to us.’ Lucy wiped a hand over her eyes, tired beyond belief. ‘They lost their son in an accident just before the war, and they loved Jack as their own.’

  ‘Don’t talk in the past tense!’ Bet spoke sharply, and immediately regretted it. This dear child of hers had been through so much, and it showed. There were dark circles under her eyes, showing both grief and weariness.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Lucy bowed her head.

  ‘You’re worn out. Why don’t you try and get some sleep? Your room is just as you left it.’

  Lucy stood up and began to walk towards the stairs.

  ‘Lucy, I won’t believe that Jack is dead unless I see a body. And neither should you. I gave birth to the two of you –’ Bet placed a hand over her heart ‘– and if anything happened to either of you, I’d know it. I don’t know what has happened over there in France, or wherever Jack might be, but he’ll be coming back alive.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Mom. I must sleep. I might be able to see things clearer then.’

  Bet watched her daughter climb the stairs as if every step was an effort, then she picked up the framed photo of her son. ‘Be safe somewhere,’ she whispered.

  Ruth leant on the table, relieved that the bar was quiet this early in the evening. ‘That was kind of you to get Lucy a lift home, Simon. But do you think she’ll come back?’

  ‘I’m sure she will. This is where Jack belongs, and she knows it. If he’s out there somewhere then he’ll make his way back to White Waltham, even if he has to crawl the whole way.’

  ‘What do you think the chances are that he’s survived?’ Simon sounded as if he believed Jack was still alive, and Ruth prayed that he was right.

  ‘Very slim, but as long as he didn’t come down in the Channel there’s always a chance.’

  She nodded. But if he came down on land then he might be out there injured and in need of help. The thought that he might be somewhere alone and in pain frightened Ruth. Then something Simon had said penetrated her weary mind. ‘What do you mean, this is where Jack belongs?’

  ‘Just that, Ruth. Jack loves this country and I believe he now considers England as his home. If he survives this then he will probably go back to America for a while when the war’s over, but he’ll be back because this is where he wants to be.’

  ‘He’s never said that to me.’

  ‘He hasn’t said anything to me either, but I’m sure that’s how he feels.’ He gave Ruth a tired smile. ‘You know Jack never talks about his inner feelings, but he thinks things through very carefully before talking about or acting on any decision. But you already know that, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s really hard to know what’s going on inside his head.’ Ruth fought back the tears, determined not to let them spill over again. ‘He’s got to come back, Simon. There’s going to be a great hole in many lives if he doesn’t.’

  ‘I know. He arrived in this country at the beginning of the war, and over the years he has gained respect from all the people he’s dealt with.’

  ‘And love,’ Ruth added.

  Simon covered her hand with his. ‘Respect and love,’ he repeated. ‘Have you told your parents yet?’

  ‘Yes, I nipped home last night. They’re both dreadfully upset and are praying for his safe return.’

  ‘It’s obvious that he ran into trouble and has come down somewhere. He’s a strong man, Ruth, and if he survived the crash then he’ll get back somehow.’ Simon picked up their empty glasses. ‘I’ll get us another drink.’

  While he was away, Ruth thought over what Simon had said about Jack. They had become firm friends, and Jack may well have talked more freely to Simon than he had to her. But was Simon right when he said that Jack would want to stay in England when the war was over? She knew he loved it here, but did he love it enough to settle here permanently? Could he leave his own home, leave his mother and sister, for Lucy was sure to return home as soon as she could now? Brother and sister had always been close and, in her view, it was unlikely they would live so far apart now. She clenched her hands into tight fists. If he didn’t come back then these were questions she would never have answered.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sound of the front door opening had Ruth surging to her feet and rushing into the hall. ‘Lucy! I’m so glad to see you. I was afraid you might not come back.’

  ‘Not a chance. Is there any news?’

  Ruth shook her head, her expression grim. ‘They’re still looking for him. If only we knew where he came down. But worrying and letting our imaginations run riot is getting us nowhere, except adding to our fear. Come on, you look tired, I’ll get you something to eat.’ If only she could take her own advice, Ruth thought wryly.

  ‘Tea and toast will do. Mom’s been feeding me up, and she sends her love to you.’ Lucy sat at the kitchen table. ‘She wanted to come back with me.’

  ‘I expect she did. How is she?’

  ‘Devastated, but she’s adamant that Jack is still alive.’ Lucy sipped the tea Ruth had just placed in front of her. ‘She insists that she would know if he’d been killed.’

  ‘I don’t want to believe it either, but after seven days it’s hard to remain hopeful.’ Ruth’s hand trembled as she spread margarine on the toast. ‘Where the hell is he, Lucy? Why haven’t they found any trace of a crashed plane? Simon’s made two trips to France while you’ve been away. He won’t let it rest until he finds out what happened.’

  ‘Bless Simon, he’s such a wonderful man to have on your side in times of trouble, isn’t he?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘He’s a very kind man.’

  They talked until midnight as Lucy told Ruth about her trip back to America, and how brave her mother was being. Then they went to bed, hoping to get some sleep.

  The next morning Lucy insisted that she was going to
work. ‘I need to keep busy, Ruth.’

  ‘Of course, and so do I.’ She dragged up a smile. ‘Come on then, we’ve got planes to fly, and the weather looks good.’

  When they arrived at the airfield, Simon was preparing to take off for France, and didn’t try to hide his delight at seeing Lucy back from America.

  They waved him off, but there was little hope in their eyes. It had been too long now and they feared the worst. Nevertheless, painful as it would be, they had to know what had happened to Jack.

  The weather held good and for the next three days they ferried plane after plane. Only when Ruth was in the air did she have a respite from the gnawing worry and grief. She knew Lucy felt the same. Flying needed total concentration and they spent as much time in the air as possible. Only when the light faded did they pack up for the day. But they made sure that they both got back to base each evening as they waited for news of the man they loved.

  They were both in the taxi on their way back to White Waltham when Lucy shook Ruth’s arm, drawing her attention to another Anson following them. ‘Who’s in that?’

  ‘Jane,’ Ruth called to the pilot, ‘there’s another Anson following us in. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘As far as I know we’re the only one in this area, but they’re using some Ansons as cargo planes at the moment, ferrying equipment over to France. It might be one of those.’

  ‘It might be Simon,’ Lucy said hopefully.

  As soon as they were on the ground they waited for the other plane to land. If it was Simon and there was no news after ten days, they would have to give up the tiny glimmer of hope they’d tried to keep burning. Lucy’s mouth was set in a straight line as she grasped Ruth’s hand in a crushing grip. It was Simon. His familiar figure was immediately recognisable as he reached up to help another man out of the plane.