The Spitfire Girls

by Jenny Holmes

  They entered the busy canteen with a flourish: Teddy gallantly holding the door while Angela sashayed ahead. Stan sat at a nearby table with Bob, earnestly discussing outstanding repair jobs; in the far corner of the room, Hilary, Douglas and Cameron compared notes for the next day’s schedule. There was a general bustle and much chatter.

  ‘Find us a nice quiet seat while I fetch the teas,’ Teddy suggested to Angela.

  So she chose a spot in a shallow recess beyond the counter, smiling briefly at Hilary as she passed his table.

  ‘Two teas coming up!’ Unable to do anything in a low-key way, Teddy swaggered as he threaded his way towards her. ‘I assumed you don’t take sugar,’ he said as he sat down next to her. ‘You’re sweet enough …’

  ‘Oh, please – not that old chestnut!’ she said with a pout, pretending to be put out.

  ‘My apologies; I’ll try to be more original in future.’

  ‘I should hope so, darling.’ Angela took her first sip of scalding tea then pointedly slid her cup towards him.

  Teddy winked and drew out the flask then poured a generous measure into both cups. ‘Just the job, eh?’

  ‘At the end of a long day,’ she agreed, sipping again. ‘Chin-chin.’

  ‘Yes; bottoms up.’

  ‘After this, it’s a hot bath and an early night for me – unless you happen to come up with a more entertaining alternative.’

  Teddy leaned closer. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as a Clark Gable or Cary Grant flick at Highcliff Odeon.’ She looked him in the eye and feigned surprise. ‘Why, Teddy Simpson, surely you didn’t think I was suggesting something less wholesome?’

  ‘As if I would!’

  Angela let an innuendo-laden pause develop. Teddy’s shoulder touched hers and his face was so close that she couldn’t make out his features. ‘Knowing you – yes, you would,’ she drawled.

  ‘And?’ he prompted eagerly. Not for the first time he felt he was in with a real chance with Angela.

  She paused again then leaned away. ‘It’s a no from me, darling. I’m actually much too tired – for a film or for anything else.’

  Teddy felt a thud of disappointment. Why lead him on in the first place? Still, he must not let Angela see that she’d got to him. ‘And here was I, getting my hopes up …’

  ‘Another time, perhaps.’ Leaving her tea unfinished, she stood up.

  ‘You’d better make the most of me while you can; I depart these shores next week,’ Teddy reminded her as he too stood up from the table.

  ‘Oh, boo!’ Angela simpered, swishing past the table where Hilary sat with Douglas and Cameron. ‘Rixley without Flight Lieutenant Simpson – whatever shall we do?’

  She didn’t look back as she left the canteen and when she felt a tap on her shoulder as she made her way along the path, she expected it to be Teddy refusing to take no for an answer.

  ‘Angela, can I have a word?’ Hilary’s question came across as an order that must be obeyed. ‘In my office, please.’

  ‘Now?’ she asked once she’d overcome her surprise. ‘I’m awfully tired. Won’t it keep?’

  ‘Not too tired to lead Teddy by the nose,’ Hilary muttered without breaking his stride. ‘Of all people!’

  Angela followed Hilary into his room, which was stacked with files and papers on every available surface. There were two telephones and a typewriter on his desk; every inch of wall was covered in maps and charts.

  ‘Sit down.’ He pointed to a chair made of canvas and tubular steel.

  Angela’s stomach fluttered. Had it somehow got back to Hilary that she’d blabbed about Teddy’s court martial? If so, better to sit tight and let Hilary do the talking.

  ‘How’s Lionel?’ He took up position behind his desk, standing with hands clasped behind his back. His sharp features gave nothing away.

  Her eyes widened. This was not what she’d been expecting. ‘He’s well, so far as I know.’

  ‘And have you given him a final answer?’

  ‘I have not.’ Her clipped reply indicated that this was none of her commanding officer’s business.

  Hilary unclasped his hands and leaned forward. ‘About Teddy Simpson …’

  Ah, now for the nitty-gritty.

  ‘Is Lionel aware that he has a rival?’ Hilary watched Angela closely as his urbane question hit its mark. ‘No; don’t answer that. I’m merely pointing out your responsibility towards somebody who happens to be a close friend of mine. Frankly, Angela, it would be my duty to inform Lionel if I found out anything untoward.’

  ‘Teddy is not Lionel’s rival,’ she replied as calmly as she could, though her heart hammered against her ribs and her breath came short.

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why carry on with the fellow the way you do?’ Hilary’s voice rose and a flush appeared on his neck and cheeks. ‘Back there in the canteen for all to see. And not only there; I’ve watched you in the bar at the Grange, openly vying with Bobbie for Teddy’s attention, and before that, at Bobbie’s birthday party. To put it bluntly, Angela, I expected better.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear you say that,’ she whispered.

  ‘You don’t deny it?’

  ‘No, but I have my reasons.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What possible excuse could there be for throwing yourself at Teddy Simpson, in spite of being engaged to Lionel and given the trouble I took to warn you off?’ Hilary tapped the file sitting on top of the blotting pad in the centre of his desk.

  Recognizing the official stamp and reading Teddy’s name at the top of the folder, Angela couldn’t contain herself a moment longer. ‘You have no right to criticize me without knowing the full story,’ she began, before making a lunge for the file. Hilary snatched it away. ‘In any case, what I choose to do in my own time has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Unless it undermines discipline on the base – as I’ve said before.’ Hilary held the file at a safe distance then went on with his attack. ‘The men are beginning to gossip about your association with Flight Lieutenant Simpson. You’re losing their respect.’

  ‘Which men?’ She almost howled with indignation.

  ‘The ground crew and some of the other pilots. I make a point of keeping my ear to the ground.’

  ‘Does anyone accuse me of not doing my job?’

  ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘Nevertheless, Cameron and Douglas agree that your behaviour off-duty gives rise to concern.’

  ‘How dare they – how dare you!’ She paused to draw breath. ‘If I was a man, you’d never talk to me in this way. It would simply be a case of “boys will be boys” and there’s no point trying to deny it. Well, I don’t accept that, Hilary – not any more. We’re all equal in wartime and men and women must be given the same freedoms.’

  ‘The freedom to behave as badly as Teddy? The freedom to ruin yourself?’ Hilary challenged. ‘I mean it – if you’re not careful and you carry on as you are, he will drag your name through the mud.’

  Angela rushed forward to try to snatch the file from Hilary but he pushed her away. ‘Why? What has Teddy done that makes you so adamant?’

  He held the folder to his chest. ‘If what’s in this file is true, it’s bad; very bad.’

  ‘Hilary, please!’

  There seemed only one way to resolve the impasse. ‘Very well; if it will bring you to your senses.’ Without opening the file and clicking into a professional tone, Hilary slowly revealed its contents. ‘In March this year Teddy’s squadron was scrambled to intercept German planes off the Lincolnshire coast.’

  Angela held her breath and took in every detail.

  ‘His orders were to come up from behind the targets and open fire. But the first report from the ground was mistaken: the only aircraft in the sky were British. Teddy ignored a subsequent radio order to cease fire. He hit his target with deadly accuracy and shot Spitfire pilot Murray Henderson through the head. Henderson died instantly.’

  Angela’s heart
almost stopped. ‘He shot down one of our own?’

  ‘Teddy denies it, of course. He’s adamant that he never received the second order to hold his fire.’

  ‘And until it’s proved one way or the other, no official action can be taken?’

  Hilary nodded. ‘Yes, but that’s why he was posted to Rixley: to fly unarmoured planes for the ATA. It was thought that here he couldn’t present a danger to his fellow pilots.’

  Thinking of Bobbie, Angela gave a hollow laugh. ‘You’ve known this all along?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And not said a word? No, of course not – Teddy is presumed innocent until proven guilty.’

  ‘Quite.’ Hilary laid the file on his desk. ‘What a bloody awful mess,’ he murmured. ‘If it was anyone else, I’d be prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt – but with Teddy, I’m not so sure.’

  ‘He’s a slippery customer,’ Angela conceded.

  ‘Some of what he says rings true.’ Hilary spoke his mind with rare frankness. ‘I’ve gone into his record and discovered that he was an exceptionally able pupil at his grammar school in Manchester, and a fine athlete to boot. But a tutor at the Initial Training Wing was the first to notice Teddy’s tendency to exaggerate his achievements. Nevertheless, the pressure was on to prepare as many pilots as possible for active service so any doubts were overlooked.’

  Never in the field of human conflict … The prime minister’s voice infiltrated Angela’s whirling thoughts … was so much owed by so many to so few. Since Dunkirk, young men of varying abilities had been snatched fresh from school and crammed with facts about signalling, navigation and aircraft types. They were issued with ill-fitting uniforms and cursorily tested for colour-blindness and tunnel vision, for dexterity and reaction time. Then, before these boys knew it, they were awarded their dog tags and were up in Tiger Moths at 1,000 feet, completing their training before finding themselves behind the controls of Blenheims and Wellingtons – lethal machines that they had little experience of flying. If they were lucky they survived six missions; a fact that was glossed over during their training programme.

  ‘It’s madness,’ Angela whispered, ‘when you stop to think.’

  ‘It doesn’t pay to dwell,’ Hilary countered swiftly. ‘But now at least you see why it’s essential for both you and Bobbie to give Teddy Simpson a wide berth. The circumstances of the court martial would be bound to play on a man’s mind and make his behaviour unpredictable, to say the least.’

  ‘Yes, I do see.’ Angela looked back over Teddy’s many lies and deceptions. ‘He comes out with absolute balderdash for much of the time.’ She knew she ought to steer clear, but … but there was the unbreakable, binding promise that Angela had made to Bobbie and a simmering anger against Teddy that refused to go away. ‘Thank you, Hilary; I appreciate your giving me the low-down.’

  ‘Unofficially,’ he reminded her. ‘This goes no further.’

  ‘Understood.’ Angela stooped to pick up her belongings. ‘You can rely on me.’

  ‘And write to Lionel,’ Hilary added with heavy emphasis. ‘Put the poor fellow’s mind at rest.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised. One way or the other she must make up her mind about their future. ‘This weekend if not before.’

  Bobbie fell asleep as the railway carriage clicked and swayed along steel tracks, across the Scottish border, heading south to York where she would have to change trains for Rixley. She’d spent an uncomfortable night in a B & B close to the ferry pool where she’d delivered the Spit, kept awake by well-founded worries about bed bugs and by the sounds of rowdy drunkards roaming the streets long after midnight. Glad to move on, she’d got up early and caught the first train south.

  ‘The next station is York.’ The announcement woke her with a start, leaving her little time to gather her overnight bag. ‘Change here for Northgate, Highcliff and Rixley.’

  Still scarcely awake, Bobbie shuffled off the train. The station clock told her that it was half past one and she gleaned information from a porter that the Rixley train was due to depart in five minutes from Platform 3, which gave her just enough time to hurry across the bridge and squeeze into the carriage immediately behind the hissing steam engine.

  ‘Here, love; have my seat.’ A middle-aged man leaned out from his compartment and tapped Bobbie on the arm. Taking her bag, he slung it on to the luggage rack as she sank down. ‘I’ve got a daughter in the ATA,’ he informed her. ‘Vera; my eldest girl.’

  ‘Ta very much.’ It was a thirty-minute hop but Bobbie was grateful nevertheless. Ten minutes into the journey she was asleep again and it was the same passenger who woke her to tell her that they’d reached their journey’s end.

  ‘Good luck to you,’ he said as he helped her to disembark. ‘I don’t know where the country would be without girls like you and my Vera.’

  She thanked him again, said goodbye then emerged from the small station on to the pavement where, to her dismay, she bumped into Teddy and Horace.

  ‘Fancy that!’ Teddy exclaimed. ‘We were all on the same train without realizing.’

  Before trusting herself to reply, Bobbie pressed her lips firmly together and took a deep breath. ‘Hello, Teddy; hello, Horace.’

  ‘Here, let me carry your bag,’ Teddy offered.

  ‘No thanks, I can manage. Where did Douglas send you today, Horace?’

  ‘Only over to Foxborough with Teddy here, to deliver two Corsairs. It’s an early finish for us, thank goodness.’ Anyone more opposite to Teddy than Horace was hard to imagine, with his slight, short stature and receding hairline. He spoke quietly, with a shy smile.

  ‘Hey-up,’ Teddy interrupted. Hearing a low rumble of aeroplane engines, he glanced up at four Lancasters and two Stirlings flying low overhead. ‘It looks like our chaps mean business later on tonight.’

  The rumble rose to a roar that seemed to run through Bobbie’s whole body as the planes flew from west to east, through low grey cloud.

  ‘Talking of business, how about letting me buy you the drink I mentioned yesterday?’ Teddy jostled Bobbie’s elbow as they walked past the Fox and Hounds. He winked knowingly at Horace. ‘Bobbie likes to play hard to get,’ he explained, ‘but really she can’t resist.’

  ‘When did you mention it?’ she demanded with a sudden flash of anger mixed with scorn. ‘Ah yes, I remember – when you were playing silly devils in mid-air and I was busy trying to avoid a head-on crash.’

  ‘Just a bit of fun.’ He shrugged. His sideways glance at Horace was meant to indicate that Bobbie suffered from the typical female complaint of vivid imagination. ‘No need to lay it on so thick.’

  Bobbie walked quickly ahead. When Teddy ran to catch her up, she stopped in her tracks. ‘Get this clear,’ she said to him, slowly and deliberately so that Horace could hear and there could be no mistake. ‘I do not want you to buy me a drink. In fact, I want nothing to do with you; is that understood?’

  With the entrance to the Grange in sight, Teddy glanced uneasily at Horace then gave a shallow laugh. ‘Women, eh? One minute they’re all over you, the next it’s claws-out.’

  The gorge rose in Bobbie’s throat but she managed to push down the sickening memories – the stone steps, the dark room, the smell of whisky on Teddy’s breath. At last she was able to look him in the eye. ‘Don’t come near me again,’ she said clearly. ‘Ever. Don’t even talk to me.’

  Teddy put up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Uh-oh; I can see that someone didn’t get much sleep last night. What or who kept you awake, I wonder?’

  ‘Hang on, old chap.’ Mild-mannered Horace considered Teddy’s last insinuation a step too far. ‘A joke is all well and good but there is a limit, you know.’

  ‘Ta, Horace, but I can stand up for myself.’ And Bobbie found to her amazement that it was true: Teddy Simpson’s hold over her was slipping. She could now look at him and detect with satisfaction the uncertainty and insecurity that lurked behind his bravado.

  ‘Please yourself,
’ Teddy muttered as they entered the grounds to the Grange. ‘It doesn’t bother me; there are plenty more fish in the sea.’

  Teddy had felt the power shift. For a minute it had unnerved him but then he’d reassured himself that he’d already done enough to ensure that any charge that Bobbie might bring against him would come unstuck. For a start he’d made sure that she’d had too much to drink on the night in question – always a good ploy – and afterwards he’d cleared up after himself by stuffing her cape, shoes and dress into the stove. And time had passed – enough to make people wonder why Bobbie had waited so long to accuse him. He would be able to claim that she was not as naive as she seemed; that in fact she was the one who had led him on.

  Nothing to worry about, he thought as they went their separate ways: Horace and Bobbie to their rooms and Teddy to the stable yard to tinker with the engine of his Royal Enfield. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves ready to begin when Olive drove Angela, Jean and Mary into the yard.

  They clambered out of the Ford with evident relief.

  ‘Here we are: the Three Musketeers!’ Angela declared. ‘Fresh from Cheshire and all points west.’

  ‘Lucky you.’ Teddy picked out the spanner he needed to take off the engine cover. ‘Douglas dug out another Maggie for me to fly after I’d delivered the Corsair. I didn’t stagger much further than Northgate with her. Still, the good news is we’ve all got a free evening.’

  ‘Yes; to do laundry and write letters.’ Mary was the first to leave the yard, followed by Jean, who had arranged to have tea with Douglas.

  Teddy paused, spanner in hand. ‘How about you, Angela? I don’t suppose you fancy a quick spin?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Wherever you like.’

  ‘Later on; to the Odeon in Highcliff,’ she decided without hesitation. ‘You’re luck’s in: I scanned the newspaper advertisements; they’re reshowing Casablanca tonight with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman.’

  Teddy leapt at the chance. ‘Right you are. What time does it start?’

  ‘Half past seven. That means we should leave here at half six – still plenty of time to spruce ourselves up.’