‘It’s possible we’re going to be stationed at Hornchurch – I hope so as I could come home if I get a few hours free. They’ve already got several Spitfire squadrons stationed there. We’ve got a few more weeks intensive training so we can fly one of them and then we should be told exactly where we’re going to be.’
‘What made you both choose to be fighter pilots rather than bomber or coastal command?’
Greg answered from the darkness – she could see the glowing end of his cigarette but nothing else. ‘I don’t remember being given a choice – we were just told by the high-up bods. I think if either of us had been any taller we would have to have been in a bomber as we wouldn’t have fitted in the cockpit of a fighter.’
‘Do you think we’ll be ready when war’s declared? People are already hoarding tinned stuff and sugar and mum told me we’ve had our gas masks since last year.’
‘Certainly, there’s a lot going on in the RAF – I’m sure we’ll have enough aircraft to defend the country when the time comes.’
‘We’ve had a waiting list for flying lessons since last year. I think the government’s making sure there are hundreds of civilian pilots who can be trained more easily than someone with no experience at all,’ Ellie said.
‘Have any of the chaps objected to being taught by a female and especially one as young as you?’
‘A few – if they kick up too much with us then Joe takes them on. In the past two years I think at least a hundred have gone solo. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am when one of my pupils gets his first licence.’
Neil spoke from beside her. ‘This airfield is so close to Hornchurch you might well get some RAF bods to train. Going solo isn’t enough – they have to have instrument training and be able to fly at night. Bloody horrible it was when I did it. I can’t see how we’re going to fly at night as we can hardly chase enemy planes if we can’t see them.’
‘I wish I could join the RAF. I’m sure I could fly a Spitfire or a Hurricane.’
‘Probably could – but fighting a war is a man’s job. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of things you can do that won’t involve shooting down aircraft or dropping bombs on civilians.’
His words instantly squashed her enthusiasm. ‘You’re right. I wouldn’t be able to do it.’
Greg appeared at her side and sat down. He smelt of cigarettes and engine oil. ‘It’s not something any of us want to do but the alternative is far worse. If we don’t want those Nazi bastards in their jackboots marching up our streets we have no option but to fight to protect our country.’
Her pleasure in the evening had gone. Although everyone knew that war with Germany was inevitable, the Prime Minister had told them he’d signed a peace treaty with Hitler. People were putting on a brave face and pretending that if there was a war, it would be over in a few months – that it could never last as long as the last one.
‘Let’s not talk about it. We all know what’s coming but I intend to ignore it for as long as I can. This past year has been great fun and I’ve been able to do the one thing I really love – which is fly.’
He shifted so his thigh was touching hers and she couldn’t move away because her brother was sitting right next to her. Her only option was to stand up, which she did.
‘I’m going in. If you feel like coming down to the airfield and giving us a hand, you would be very welcome. Good night, Greg, good night, big brother.’ Before she could stop him, their guest was on his feet. Such gallantry was misplaced – she much preferred to be treated like one of the boys.
*
When Ellie came downstairs she discovered her mother wasn’t down. Dad would have had to get his own breakfast – if she’d known she would have got up early and done it for him. Mum must have a migraine. She couldn’t think of anything else that would keep her from her sacred duty.
The Aga never went out which made the kitchen unpleasantly hot in the summer. Fortunately, at seven in the morning the room was still bearable. Her brother and Greg would be down soon expecting a hot breakfast. The farm produced its own bacon, eggs and milk so there was always plenty to eat. The vegetable garden produced more than enough to feed the family and the three workers they employed.
There’d be no fresh bread this morning so they would have to make do with yesterday’s and toast it. The kettle was singing, the bacon crisp and the eggs ready to go in when Neil and Greg wandered in.
‘Good morning, little sister, where’s Mum?’
‘She’s probably got one of her headaches. Everything’s ready so why don’t you sit down?’
‘Anything I can do?’ Greg asked.
‘No, all under control, thank you.’
She deftly flipped the eggs then began to dish up. Soon they were all sitting down to a perfectly cooked breakfast. They munched in companionable silence for a while.
‘Are you going up to see if Mum wants anything?’ Neil said.
‘She doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s got a migraine. But I do have to sort something out for lunch.’
Whilst they continued to devour everything in sight she threw together four plates of ham salad and put them under a damp cloth in the pantry. Next to this was the remainder of the sherry trifle. It was a bit grand for a working man’s lunch, but couldn’t be helped.
Normally Dad and the men would get a hot meal – working on a farm was hard work. They wouldn’t be impressed with her cold offering. By the time she’d finished her domestic duties her brother and Greg had finished and were busy clearing the table.
‘We’ll wash this up for you. Better we don’t smell of chickens when we go back later.’
Neil knew this was her next task as Mum was in charge of the fowl. ‘Thanks, I won’t be long. Are you coming down to the airfield or pottering about here?’
‘I’m going to show Greg round the farm and then take him into Romford. We’ll grab a bite to eat there and join you after that.’
‘I’ve got two pupils going solo this afternoon so won’t be up myself.’
The chickens were clucking and fussing in the barn. They were used to being let out at dawn and their displeasure was audible. ‘All right, stop that racket, I’m here now.’ She grabbed three scoops of grain and tipped them into a bucket before opening the door.
Three dozen grumpy hens and half a dozen cockerels rushed out. She scattered the feed and left them happily munching. She quickly checked their water feeder was full and then went to collect any overnight eggs.
There were three broody hens sitting on clutches and she left them a handful of grain each. Mum did well out of the eggs. Ellie wondered if things would change when the war began. There would be rationing but she couldn’t see how the government could prevent farmers from eating more than their ration when they produced all their own food. No doubt some officious bloke would come and tell them what to do when it all kicked off.
Her first pupil was due at nine o’clock which meant she didn’t have time to clean the eggs before she left for work. The two that were taking their first solo flight would have a final lesson this morning as well.
The eggs must be left in the scullery to be dealt with later. When she burst in, the washing-up was finished but there was no sign of the visitors. She hadn’t heard the car leaving so they must be somewhere outside but she had no time to look for them.
The kitchen was pristine, the kettle refilled and the table laid. Her brother had done all her chores so she could leave immediately. Her bicycle was propped where she’d left it. She didn’t want to yell her goodbyes as Mum’s bedroom faced the yard.
Cycling to the airfield every day was a pleasure unless it was tipping down or knee deep in snow. From her vantage point on the saddle she could see over the hedges. Their prize dairy herd was grazing peacefully in one field, the porkers were snuffling around in another. Glebe Farm was mixed arable and livestock, as were most of the farms locally.
From the look of the wheat and barley it would be an early harvest and a good one.
They were already lifting the early potatoes and if she pedalled along here after nine o’clock she would hear the chirpy voices of the local women, who came in en masse to potato pick. They brought their children with them and the little ones played happily together whilst their mothers worked.
The horses had gone several years ago and everything was mechanised now. Tractors were much quicker and more efficient but she missed the two shires. Her happy reminiscences were rudely brought to a halt when a car hooted loudly behind her. She lost her balance and rode straight into the hedge.
*
Jack turned into the track that led to the airfield and saw the Simpson girl riding along oblivious to the fact she was blocking the way. The Austin Seven he was driving was new and purred like a contented kitten. Perhaps she couldn’t hear his approach. He pressed the horn and to his horror she wobbled and went headfirst into the bushes.
Shit and derision! He stamped on the brake and jumped out of the car not bothering to close the door behind him. It was ominously silent. Why wasn’t she yelling and swearing at him?
If she was hurt he’d never forgive himself. The rear wheel of the bike was still spinning but the front half was embedded in the hawthorn spikes. Where the hell was she?
He peered over the greenery and saw what had happened. The girl had been catapulted over the hedge and must be unconscious on the other side. ‘Miss Simpson, Ellie, are you hurt?’ There was no answer and he leaned into the vicious thorns in an attempt to see if she was spreadeagled close to the edge of the field where he couldn’t see her.
He tried yelling again. ‘Ellie, for God’s sake answer me?’
‘I’m perfectly fine, no thanks to you.’
She spoke from right behind him and shock made him grab two handfuls of hawthorn bush. The thorns embedded themselves in his fingers and palms. His foul language made her laugh.
He stepped away from the bushes to examine his lacerated hands. ‘For Christ’s sake, what is it with you? You should be called Cassandra, not Ellen.’
Her fists clenched. He braced himself, not wishing to end up in the thorns for a second time.
‘Mr Reynolds, you are a blithering idiot. First you attempt to ditch our new aircraft and now you’ve ruined my bike. I can only imagine that Joe calls you his favourite nephew because he doesn’t have any others.’
He was about to apologise but she held up her hand. ‘Don’t just stand there like a useless article – get my bike out of the hedge. I’m going to be late for work.’
He ignored her and returned to his car. He started the engine and revved it loudly expecting her to leap sideways in order to get out of his way. She did the opposite and positioned herself firmly in the middle of the lane. The only way he was going to move forward was by driving over her.
They glared at each other through the windscreen. This was ridiculous. He was behaving like a kid – one of them needed to act like an adult. He would get the bloody bike out of the bloody hedge for her but if she didn’t watch out she would end up the same way as her bike.
She stood by in silence as he struggled to remove the damn thing. He gave it another heave and this time was successful. He staggered back with the bike in his hands and lost his balance, ending up in the mud at her feet with it on top of him.
Again, she surprised him. Instead of enjoying his humiliation she removed the bike. ‘Let me help you up, Mr Reynolds.’ Then her expression changed to one of concern. ‘There’s blood all over your hands. You should have worn gloves…’
He sat up and examined them. ‘Serves me right. Only a few scratches, nothing to worry about. Will you call me Jack?’
Her smile turned her face from ordinary to rather attractive. ‘Okay. My bike’s had it. Do you think it will squeeze into the back of your car? Sid will be able to fix it if we can get it to him.’
‘Can you drive?’ This seemed a stupid question but it was possible she could fly planes but not drive a car.
‘I can – why do you ask?’
‘You need to get to work and your bike is too big to fit in the back. Take the car and I’ll carry the bike to the airfield.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks, makes sense as you’re the one who caused the damage. I’ll see you later.’
He was about to explain how to start the vehicle but she was already inside and obviously knew what she was doing. She drove away without a second glance, leaving him to stagger the remaining distance carrying her broken bicycle.
It took him half an hour to complete the journey and if he’d expected to be greeted with thanks and enthusiasm he would have been disappointed. The mechanic, who was doing something complicated to a bit of an engine, gestured towards the wall.
‘Stick it over there, mate, I’ll get to it later. Joe wants you to fix the compass on the new kite. You’ll find the tools you’ll need over there.’
‘I need the rest room first. Also, do you have any overalls I can borrow?’
The man grunted and jerked his head in the direction of a door at the far side of the hanger. Either the bloke was a grumpy bastard or he was taking Ellie’s side. Once he’d cleaned up and pulled on a disgustingly dirty pair of overalls he was ready to fix the compass.
He supposed that Uncle Joe had told the old guy his nephew was a competent ground engineer. When you came to think about it his uncle being involved in a toffs’ activity like flying was a bit strange. The money to start it up had come from wheeling and dealing in the East End. Probably best not to enquire too closely exactly how this had been obtained.
It took him a while to unstick the needle on the compass and put it back in place. While he was busy another car rolled up. The Swallow took off a short while later and was still out when he’d finished. He double-checked everything was working properly and then gathered up his tools and scrambled out of the cockpit.
His uncle banged on the window of the office and beckoned him in. He didn’t look very happy.
Four
Ellie’s morning improved once she’d arrived at the airfield. Both Joe and Sid were sympathetic and agreed that Jack was a nitwit. She got on with the paperwork she had to fill in before her students could do their first solo flight and forgot all about him.
Giles Humphry performed perfectly and she was certain he would have no difficulty on his solo excursion later that day. He landed smoothly and taxied the aircraft off the runway.
‘That was really good, Giles. You’ll be fine this afternoon.’
The young man nodded happily. ‘I want to get as many hours as I can under my belt before things go pear-shaped. I’m going to join the RAF when it does.’
‘I don’t know why you’re spending all this money on lessons when they’ll teach you for nothing.’
He grinned. ‘That’s what the pater keeps telling me every time he sees me. I want to join with experience not start from scratch. Anyway, I’ve loved these past few months and it gives me a legitimate excuse to be away from the bank.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll see you later. Excuse me, but my boss wants me in the office.’
Joe was waving frantically. He was rarely upset about anything so this didn’t bode well. She burst in to find that her nemesis was already there. She ignored him.
‘What’s up? Have we got a ministry inspection or something?’
‘Worse than that. My Phyllis says the police have been ransacking the house. Some bleeder has squealed and I’m in for the high jump.’
She’d never inquired about how he’d come to get into flying when he wasn’t the sort of person usually associated with an aero club. From what she knew of the matter these were usually set up by toffee-nosed people and were as exclusive as the local golf club.
‘Will they confiscate the aircraft?’ As soon as she’d spoken she realised she should have asked about his welfare.
Jack answered. ‘I didn’t know until today that everything here is in my name. I own the club and they can’t touch it.’
‘What about you, Joe? Have you done somet
hing illegal?’
He chuckled and his belly bounced up and down underneath his shirt. ‘Nothing they can prove, my love. But there’s a lot of nasty buggers after my blood and things could get a bit spicy for me until it settles down.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You don’t have to do anything, Ellie, just carry on as normal. My Jack is taking over. I’d better get off home before the local constabulary turn up to arrest me. Your ma wouldn’t take kindly to that.’ With a cheerful wave he waddled out and drove away in a puff of oily smoke.
She now had to find a way to work with her new boss. He might not be as accommodating as Joe, and she really didn’t want to lose this job. She had no other qualifications because she had not stayed on at school to get her higher certificate. She had been sent to a prestigious boarding school, which she’d hated every moment of, as her mother had the vain hope her daughter would become a debutante and take after her. Ellie eventually persuaded her father to release her from this hell. If she wasn’t at the airfield she would have to work on the farm as she had no intention of becoming a shop girl or a filing clerk.
She fiddled about with the papers on the desk and the silence became oppressive. She’d better say something.
‘Do you want me to show you the ropes?’
‘No thank you, my uncle’s already done that. For God’s sake sit so we can have a sensible conversation.’
Hastily she pulled out a chair and plonked herself down on it. She still didn’t look at him as for some reason just the sight of his fiery red hair set her nerves on edge.
‘Do you have your instructor’s certificate?’ This question was addressed to the table.
‘Ellie, you’re being childish. We’ve got to work together and you’ve got to accept that I’m your boss. Look at me – I can’t have a conversation with the top of your head.’
She straightened and glared at him. ‘You didn’t answer me. If you can instruct as well we can take on some of those on the waiting list. As you can see, we’re fully booked six days a week.’
Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 Page 3