Blackbirds

by Garry Ryan

  Richard laughed. “Like hell she is! If you do that, I’ll make sure the entire service finds out that all it took was a pair of schoolgirls in flight suits to take care of a couple of England’s so-called commandos!”

  Michael put his arm around Linda’s shoulder.

  She pushed him away.

  He persisted. “I’m sorry.”

  Linda began to weep.

  Sharon said, “Linda will need a cup, too.”

  The mood of the commandos didn’t improve even after Richard handed each a cup of coffee. They insisted that Michael and Linda remain out of sight in the back seat of the Bentley. The driver checked his watch every thirty seconds, then glared at Sharon.

  Sharon glanced at the scars on Richard’s face as he leaned against the Bentley’s bonnet.

  He said, “It happened a year before the war started. I got out of the wreckage a moment late and was burned on the one side. There’s a new hospital being started up at East Grinstead for survivors like me. Whoever designed Hurricanes and Spitfires decided the best place for the fuel tank was right in front of the cockpit. The surgeons at East Grinstead will be expecting lots of customers like me with their faces and hands burned.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Sharon watched as Linda leaned against her brother’s shoulder in the back seat of the Bentley.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m still alive. A few of my friends have died already. I feel quite fortunate, to tell you the truth.” Richard took a sip of coffee.

  The driver opened the door of the car. “Time to go!”

  The other commando flipped the remains of his coffee onto the grass and opened Linda’s door. “We’re off.”

  Linda stepped out of the car. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and tucked her chin to her chest.

  Sharon hugged her friend.

  “Fucking war!” Linda wiped her nose on the sleeve of her flying suit. “Fucking war takes everything away. My own brother can’t even tell us he’s alive.” She looked at Sharon. “Then you have to deal with what happens when someone else dies so that you can survive.”

  “Where did you learn to defend yourself?” Richard asked.

  Linda smiled. “My brother taught me.”

  Richard turned to Sharon. “And you?”

  “My mother.”

  Linda said, “Those two bastards stole our coffee cups!”

  Now’s not a good time to ask her about Michael, Sharon thought.

  “Quick, before he changes his mind. We’ve got a late delivery to Leeds, and a car will be waiting for us when we get there to take us to Ilkley. Our ride back is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Hurry!” Linda threw a change of clothes into her shoulder bag.

  Sharon stood up and stuffed her feet into her flying boots. “I’ve done five deliveries already today.”

  “Look, you stay here if you like. I have to talk with my mother. She has to know Michael is alive. He told me I couldn’t tell her over the phone or by letter. He neglected to say anything about telling her face to face. I’ll be damned if I’ll keep all of the secrets my parents have kept the same way their parents did.” Linda stepped into the hallway and out the front door.

  What the hell does that mean? “Hang on!” Sharon took the time to lock the front door, then worked her arms into her Irvin jacket. Her boots scrubbed over the gravel. She looked at the horizon and estimated they had ninety minutes of sunlight remaining.

  When they reached the airfield, Sharon saw an oversized humpbacked white biplane parked near a hangar. She scanned the rest of the airfield for other aircraft. “What is it?”

  Linda stepped up onto the bottom wing. “Swordfish.”

  “What fish?”

  Linda wheeled around and pointed. “Swordfish! We complete the first leg of its delivery to Scapa Flow. Thank God we don’t have to fly it all the way up there. Come on, I’ve got the chit in my pocket.”

  This thing looks like it was built for the last war, Sharon thought as she completed the walk around. “It looks like a school bus with wings!” The plane smelled of oil, gasoline and dope — a flammable concoction. She had a flashback of Richard’s scarred face. “And where is Scapa Flow?”

  Linda sat in the cockpit and began reading the page on the Swordfish. “It’s a naval base on an island north of Scotland.”

  Sharon climbed into the middle cockpit.

  “Clear!” Linda started the engine and throttled back. When she was settled in, Sharon tapped Linda’s shoulder.

  Three minutes later, they were airborne and headed northeast.

  Sharon was glad she brought her goggles. Engine exhaust and oil blew back into her face.

  The landing lights were on at Leeds when they touched down.

  The driver was waiting for them. For the next hour and a half, Linda slept on one side of the Rolls with Sharon napping on the other.

  Sharon awoke with the driver saying, “Madam,” and shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes to her grandmother’s estate. There were lights in every window, automobiles parked all along the drive, and a sky speckled with stars. They climbed out of the back seat.

  Their boots crunched over the gravel. Linda said, “Come on around the back. Mum often helps in the kitchen when your grandmother has one of her soirées.”

  Sharon followed Linda into the shadow alongside the house. A stone path led to the back. Light and the smell of food seeped out into the back garden. I’m starved!

  Linda walked through the doorway. Sharon followed.

  “Linda! What a grand surprise!” The woman behind the voice was a pound or two under one hundred and her silver hair was tied back into a tight bun. She wrapped her arms around Linda and held her cheek against Linda’s neck.

  “Hello, Anne,” Linda said.

  “Linda?” Honeysuckle carried a stacked tray of dirty dinner plates that she set down with a clatter on the counter. She too hugged Linda. “And you brought Sharon with you!”

  “Mother, we need to talk,” Linda said.

  Sharon stopped, and all noise and motion in the room ceased while Linda led her mother outside.

  Sharon hung her jacket on the back of a chair. “Where can I wash up?”

  “Over there.” Anne pointed to a sink on Sharon’s left.

  Sharon rolled up her sleeves. She scrubbed her hands and made a quick check in the mirror. I look like an owl! She worked at removing the oil and exhaust residue from her face.

  Anne said, “Oi! Hand us one of the pies from the storeroom!”

  Sharon looked at Anne, who was pointing at a closed door on the left-hand side of the kitchen. As she turned, she saw a pair of polished black shoes coming down the stairs into the kitchen.

  She went to the storeroom door, opened it, and searched for a light switch. It was hidden inside a shelf just to her right. After she turned on the light, she looked around at the shelves of canned goods, jars, and sacks of food on either side of the narrow room. There you are. The pies were at the end of the room. She walked toward them and felt the cooler air touching the wet strands of hair framing her face.

  The door closed.

  The light went off.

  Sharon turned.

  There was the sound of leather-soled shoes on the stone floor.

  “You’re new here,” a man’s voice said.

  “Who are you?” Sharon caught the scent of pipe smoke and gin.

  “The man of the house.” His hands touched her shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” Sharon felt a knee jammed into her crotch. She tried to hit him, but he was too close.

  He grabbed her wrists and held them together with one of his hands. With the other, he probed between her legs.

  Sharon tried to breathe, but he had her pushed up against the shelves. “Don’t. Please don’t.” Fear made it hard to think. Just wait. When you get the chance, bite his ear off.

  The light flicked on.

  Sharon looked to the open door. Honeysuckle stood there. Linda stood behind her.
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  “Marmaduke. I was hoping I would have the chance to introduce you to your niece,” Honeysuckle said.

  Marmaduke backed away from Sharon. “Very nice to finally meet you. Mother has told me that you were in England.” He smiled and held out his hand.

  Stunned, Sharon shook it. She saw that he had a hooked nose and slicked-back brown hair, and was wearing a black tuxedo with tails.

  Marmaduke turned and waited for Honeysuckle to allow him out the door. “I’d best be returning to our guests.”

  Honeysuckle stepped into the room. Linda followed and closed the door.

  Sharon could see that Honeysuckle had been crying.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” Honeysuckle asked.

  “I think so.” Sharon tried to erase the memory of the crushing weight of him and found she could not.

  Linda said, “Did he hurt you?”

  Sharon shook her head and found that she was crying. “I was about to bite his ear off.”

  Honeysuckle’s voice was a whisper. “When I realized you were inside and he was on the prowl, I rushed back in. I’m glad we were able to find you without too much delay.”

  “On the prowl? He’s done this before?” Sharon asked.

  Linda nodded. “He has quite a reputation for it, actually.”

  Sharon said, “What do I do?”

  Honeysuckle put her hand on Sharon’s cheek. “You do what we do in this type of circumstance.”

  “What’s that?” Sharon asked.

  Honeysuckle winked. “When the opportunity presents itself, you get even with the smarmy bastard! Now, let’s get those pies Anne was asking for.”

  Linda opened the door and Sharon followed them into the kitchen.

  “The guests are full of praise for the dinner.” Cornelia stood at the top of the stairs leading to the main part of the house.

  To Sharon, it looked like her grandmother was wrapped in green curtains and white lace.

  “I’m so glad to see you and Linda here,” Cornelia said to Sharon. “You must come and meet our guests.”

  Sharon looked at her clothing. “Perhaps another time.” Besides, I couldn’t face Uncle Marmaduke at the moment.

  “Nonsense.” Cornelia held out her hand.

  Sharon nodded and found she was blushing. Why do I feel ashamed?

  Cornelia waited for Sharon to climb the steps and take her hand. Sharon’s grandmother led the way down a hallway into a great room where guests stood, drank, and chatted after dinner. The room was filled with tuxedos, evening dresses, tobacco smoke, and faces turned to inspect the young woman being led into the room by Cornelia Lacey.

  Sharon was led to one corner where Marmaduke stood next to a blonde with pronounced cheekbones and startling blue eyes. She wore a black dress, white pearls, and black gloves that reached her elbows.

  “This is your Aunt Cecilia,” Cornelia said.

  Cecilia held out her hand to Sharon. She squeezed Sharon’s hand. “A very great pleasure.” Cecilia’s tone said the exact opposite.

  Sharon pulled her hand away from the painful, pinching grip on the knuckle of her index finger.

  “And this is your Uncle Marmaduke,” Cornelia said.

  Sharon looked at her uncle, remembering his hand between her legs. He offered his hand. She looked at it for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen.

  It was well beyond midnight when Linda, Honeysuckle, and Sharon walked home.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Sharon.” Honeysuckle held onto her daughter’s arm.

  “I have a lot to think about.” Sharon was glad for the darkness.

  “Are you crying?” Linda asked.

  Oh, shut up! Sharon thought.

  “Don’t you dare feel as though you’re somehow responsible for what Marmaduke did to you, my dear,” Honeysuckle said.

  At one thousand feet, the Anson went into a right turn. Linda and Sharon sat one behind the other near the back door.

  Sharon felt her emotions rising. They hit a pocket of rough air. The engines surged momentarily, then resumed their reassuring clatter.

  “So what’s troubling you?” Linda turned to face her friend.

  “I traveled all this way in the middle of a war to find a family. It felt like I was half a person after my mother died. I thought that by coming here, I would feel like I belonged somewhere.” Sharon studied her friend’s face to see if she understood.

  “It hasn’t worked out the way that you’d hoped?”

  “My uncle makes improper advances. My grandmother appears to be totally unaware of what her son is actually like. My father knows I exist, but doesn’t know me at all.”

  “What were you expecting? Your mother traveled halfway around the earth to get away from her family, and she never returned.”

  Sharon opened her mouth to reply and closed it. What do I say to that?

  “Nobody’s family is perfect.” Linda began to turn around.

  “At least you’ve got a mother, a father, and a brother,” Sharon said.

  Linda shook her head. “But for how long? Hitler’s ready to kick down the door and march across England like he did in France. We’ll see how many of us survive the summer.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Mother smiled as he said, “Here you go!”

  Linda held their chits high. Today she wore her uniform slacks, white blouse with rolled-up sleeves, and tie. She smiled broadly. “Finally!”

  Sharon stuffed the crust of a mutton sandwich into her mouth and tried to smile despite her full cheeks.

  “We’re both going to Castle Bromwich. I’ve got a Spitfire!” Linda grabbed her friend around the waist and squeezed.

  Sharon swallowed, choked, and coughed.

  Linda released her hold and swatted Sharon on the back.

  After the coughing subsided, Sharon wiped her eyes, picked up her kit, and followed Linda to the air taxi. This time it was a Dragon Rapide, with its elegant nose, dragonfly wings, and twin engines.

  Fifty minutes later, when they were on finals for Castle Bromwich, Sharon saw the rows of factory roofs and all of the frenetic activity outside, where brand-new aircraft were lined up under a clear sky. A perfect day.

  When they taxied to a stop, Linda was first outside the door.

  Sharon had to wait in her seat as the pilot rushed past her, saying, “I’ve got to find some petrol.”

  By the time Sharon had collected her gear and exited the aircraft, Linda was already in the cockpit of a Spitfire, having the controls explained to her by a smiling mechanic.

  Sharon pulled her chit out of a pocket and walked toward the dispersal hut.

  A Merlin engine crackled to life.

  Sharon looked over at Linda, who leaned left and right to see around the Spitfire’s long nose. The engine began to smooth itself into a hum when Linda added power. She stood on one rudder, then the other, as she zigzagged her way along the taxiway while checking to make sure that no one was in front of her.

  Sharon waited for the takeoff run so she’d be able to describe it for Linda later. She watched Linda dutifully do her run-up. She taxied onto the end of the runway, lined herself up into the wind, and applied throttle. The engine emitted a throaty hum. It began to roll forward; the tail lifted, then the wheels kissed the ground once before the wings carried the fighter into the air.

  Sharon frowned when she spotted a line of black smoke trailing the Spitfire. The smoke was thicker and blacker than what usually passed for exhaust.

  “Christ!” The mechanic waved his arms and went running after Linda’s Spitfire. “Bail out!”

  “She’s too low!” someone else said.

  Linda turned left when she realized her aircraft was on fire. She completed her turn and headed back toward them.

  Sharon heard the bell of the fire tender. Another alarm sounded as the ambulance rushed to follow.

  They saw the Spitfire turn onto finals with its wheels and flaps down. Flames licked along the bell
y of the aircraft.

  “Christ, hurry!” the mechanic said.

  Sharon started to run.

  Linda flared for a landing. The propeller windmilled, causing smoke to boil over the wing roots.

  With the limited visibility, she misjudged her height. The wheels hit the ground and the Spitfire bounced back into the air.

  It dropped harder the second time. One undercarriage leg buckled, and the Spitfire started a ground loop as the lowered wingtip gouged the grass. The other undercarriage leg collapsed.

  The propeller chewed into the ground. Dirt and grass flew into the air. The propeller blades curled back on themselves.

  A wing bent up at the tip. The Spitfire slid along the grass and halted, with flames licking its nose and along the fuselage.

  Linda pulled back the canopy.

  The fire truck pulled up next to the wreck. Sharon saw a fireman running along a wing toward the cockpit, where the fire rose up on either side of him. The images of Linda and her rescuer’s silhouette shivered in the heat. He reached inside, cut her safety harness, and hauled her out. He pushed her ahead of him as they ran back over the wing and away from the wreck.

  Sharon grabbed at the pain under her ribs and gasped for air as she reached her friend.

  Linda was pulling off her flying helmet.

  Sharon looked down and saw that the fabric on the knees and shins of Linda’s slacks hung in black tatters.

  Sharon took a closer look at how pale Linda’s face was.

  Sharon looked at the front of Linda’s legs. It wasn’t just tattered black fabric hanging from her knees and shins — it was skin. Sharon inhaled the now-familiar stink of charred flesh.

  Again, Sharon experienced the clarity of mind that she’d discovered while under attack by the Messerschmitt pilots.

  She looked behind her and saw that the petrol bowser was next to the air taxi that brought them to Castle Bromwich. She spied the ambulance attendants pulling a stretcher out of the back of the ambulance.

  Someone said, “We need tannic acid!”

  “NO!”

  Everyone, including Linda, turned toward Sharon.

  “Put her on that stretcher!” Sharon pointed at the ambulance. “She’s going on that aircraft!” She pointed at the Dragon Rapide. It had just finished refueling.