‘No, but I wish we could have tootled around up here for a bit longer and watched the fun.’
Daisy frowned. ‘Fun?’
‘Yup. That’s what Luke and the other lads call it. So, we’ve got to do the same, Daisy.’
Daisy said nothing. She was wondering just what she was going to tell her father when she made the promised phone call that evening.
Thirty-One
From the time the enemy had attacked the ships in the Channel, the battle in the air intensified, and when, in August, the Luftwaffe attacked the airfields in the south of England, the Battle of Britain, as Churchill had foretold in June, was at its height. It was rumoured that Goering had said that the RAF would be defeated within a month, clearing the way for Operation Sea Lion, Hitler’s planned invasion of the British Isles in September. As the battles raged and there was an urgent need for more aircraft, Daisy and Gill, along with a few other pilots, were sent to Upavon for what was called a conversion course on Miles Masters and Airspeed Oxfords.
‘My goodness,’ Daisy said, when they landed after their first two hours. ‘These aircraft are a bit different. More controls and more checks to do.’
‘But faster.’ Gill grinned. ‘We’re getting there, Daisy. We’re really getting closer to our dream.’
When their training was successfully completed, they returned to the Hatfield Ferry Pool and now their daily chits contained Oxfords to be taken north for training RAF pilots. Now, too, Daisy and Gill were qualified to fly the Anson. More and more, the taxi aeroplanes were used so that the ferry pilots could deliver more aircraft in a day. Although the ATA women were not allowed to fly after darkness fell and had only a map and a compass to guide them – there was no radio contact with the ground – with the lighter days of summer they were often working until long into the evening, returning to their digs near Hatfield Airfield exhausted, but elated that they were at last doing useful war work.
If only they were allowed to fly Spitfires! It was Daisy’s last thought before she went to sleep at night and the first thing she thought about when she awoke next morning.
Early in September, Gill said, ‘Daisy, have you heard? Brooklands was bombed yesterday at lunchtime.’
Daisy stared at Gill, her eyes wide with fright. ‘Oh no. They must be turning their attention to aircraft construction sites as well as the airfields. I must telephone—’ She stopped. Who could she telephone? Who would know?
Aunty Milly! Aunty Milly always knew what was happening, even though she always declared she didn’t want to be told secrets.
‘Ask the adj in the office. She’ll let you telephone. Just tell her it’s where you learned to fly and you have friends still there.’
Minutes later, Daisy was listening to the ringing tone going on and on. She replaced the receiver, more worried than ever. There had been reports of bombing in London during August; she prayed that Milly was all right.
‘If her place had been hit,’ Gill said reasonably, ‘the telephone wouldn’t be working.’
Daisy chewed her lip worriedly. ‘Who else can I ring?’
‘What about your uncle at the War Office?’
‘Oh, I daren’t ring there.’
‘What about Uncle Mitch? You’ve got his number in London, haven’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but it’s him I’m worried about. Him and Jeff. If they’re at Brooklands . . .’ Her voice faded away.
‘Try him,’ Gill urged. ‘I can see you’re really worried.’
Mitch answered almost immediately. ‘Daisy? Are you all right? Something wrong?’
‘No – not here. I was worried about you – and Jeff. We’ve heard Brooklands has been bombed. Is it bad?’
‘Pretty bad this time, yes. But Jeff’s OK. We’re both here in London now. Most of the time anyway.’
‘You said “this time”. Has it been bombed before?’
‘Yes, in July. Just small bombs that missed their target, but this time, it’s bad. Over eighty workers at the Vickers factory have been killed and hundreds injured.’
‘Is – is Milly’s father all right?’
‘Yes, he is. He was there, but only got cuts and bruises. He’s devastated, of course. He treats all his workers like family.’
‘Has Aunty Milly gone down there? Because there’s no answer from her; I tried ringing her first.’
‘Yes, she’s in Weybridge with her family. I think she might stay there for a while. The bombing in London has already started and it’s going to get worse, Daisy.’
‘Thank goodness Aunty Pips is away.’
‘Most of the time anyway.’ Mitch couldn’t hide the anxious tone that crept into his voice. ‘She comes home every now and again. She was here last weekend.’
Daisy sighed heavily. ‘Oh dear.’ There was a pause before she asked, ‘What about the aircraft production at Brooklands?’
‘Vickers expect to be up and running again within twenty-four hours, though production will be slower than normal. Understandably.’
‘Can you give me Milly’s telephone number at her parents’ house? They wouldn’t mind, would they?’
‘Of course not. Have you got a pen?’
Daisy chuckled down the line. ‘I don’t need one. I’ll remember it.’
‘Sorry, I was forgetting.’ He laughed with her. Daisy’s mind was as sharp and clever as her aunt’s.
Two days later, when they went to collect their delivery chits, Daisy said, ‘Oh look, I’ve got Tangmere again. Delivering an Oxford.’
‘And I’ve got an Oxford too – for Duxford.’ Gill bit her lip. ‘Daisy, would you swap? Unless, of course, you’re desperate to see Luke . . .’
‘I don’t mind, but we’d better get permission. They need to know exactly who’s going where.’
Gill’s face brightened. ‘Sure you don’t mind? I mean . . .’
‘Of course I don’t. Give him my love, though, won’t you?’
As they walked towards their respective aircraft, Daisy was smiling. In her hand she now held a chit that took her to Duxford, where Johnny was stationed. It couldn’t have been a better swap and now she also had a Tiger Moth to pick up from there to take to the maintenance unit at Henlow. It would probably mean an overnight stay somewhere but she didn’t mind that if it meant she could spend an hour or so with Johnny.
‘You know, we’re incredibly lucky that neither of them have been posted elsewhere yet,’ Gill remarked.
Daisy agreed. ‘Whole squadrons get moved too as well as individuals. I expect it’ll happen eventually, but let’s make the most of it whilst they’re still where we can see them sometimes.’
As they parted, Daisy hugged her. ‘Take care, Gill. See you later.’
Johnny was there waiting when she landed and taxied towards the place where she had to park the aircraft. He ran towards her to help her. As she jumped down, he put his arms around her, hugged her and swung her round.
‘You’ve got to stay the night.’
‘Here? Why?’
‘The aircraft you’ve to take on to Henlow isn’t ready. They can’t get it started.’
Daisy pulled a face. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘They’re working on it, but it’s obviously a bit dodgy, as you’re taking it to a maintenance unit anyway,’ Johnny said breezily. ‘But you’d better telephone your office and explain. Don’t want you on the carpet when you get back.’
‘I’d better find out what’s wrong first.’
‘Oh, all right. My mate Jimmy’s working on it. I’ll take you over.’
A few moments later, Daisy was greeting a ginger-haired, freckle-faced aircraft mechanic.
‘So you’re the famous Daisy.’ He grinned, giving Johnny a sly wink. ‘I won’t shake hands. I’m covered in grease trying to get this Moth of yours fixed.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Don’t know yet,’ he said cheerfully, ‘but I should have it ready by tomorrow . . .’ He glanced at Johnny and then added, ‘
Or the day after.’
Daisy bit her lip. ‘If it’s likely to take as long as that, they might want to send the Anson for me.’
‘Aw, come on, Daisy,’ Johnny said. ‘Surely you could have at least one night here? I’ve got a forty-eight. I thought we’d go dancing tonight. Several of the lads have arranged transport into London. Do say you will, Daisy.’
‘There’s bombing going on there now. Hadn’t you heard?’
Johnny shrugged. ‘They dropped a few in August, I grant you, but it’s not every night. We’ll just have to find a shelter if there’s an air raid. Look, Daisy . . .’ Suddenly, he was serious. ‘The RAF lads are up almost every day in what Churchill calls the Battle of Britain. It started in July and already we’re in September and it’s still going on. Even our superiors recognize that we need a break now and again. Please, Daisy, say you’ll come with us.’
She stared at him, seeing the tiredness in his eyes, the weariness of facing danger – even death – day after day. Of course they needed a bit of fun; anything to take their mind off the war in the air, even if only for a few brief hours.
‘I’ll telephone first,’ she said firmly. She was loving her time in the ATA and didn’t want to risk being on a charge or, worse still, grounded.
Her superior officer took the news calmly. ‘It happens, Daisy, and we don’t want you flying an aircraft that’s suspect. We know it’s going for a major overhaul, but we’ve been told it’s airworthy for you to take it there. Just make sure they get it right before you fly. Ring me again tomorrow and let me know the progress.’
Daisy was smiling as she turned back to Johnny. ‘It’s OK, I can stay tonight at least.’
His grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
It was a merry party of RAF airmen who hired a bus to take them to London that evening. Several WAAFs had been invited too.
‘If there’s an air raid, Daisy, we must make a beeline for the nearest shelter. The place we’re going to, which Ron has organized’ – Johnny nodded towards one of his fellow airmen sitting on the back seat of the bus, his arm around a blond-haired girl wearing bright red lipstick but still in her WAAF uniform – ‘is quite near one of the tube stations. Did you know folks are using the Underground for shelters?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘Do you think the bombing in London will get worse?’
‘Our lads try to get up before they get there, but we can’t bring them all down. More’s the pity. Still, let’s forget about the war, Daisy. Just for tonight, eh?’
His arm crept around her shoulders and, smiling, Daisy snuggled against him. ‘Yes, let’s.’
The dance hall was packed with men – and some women – in service uniform.
‘At least I don’t feel out of place,’ Daisy murmured, as Johnny put his arm around her and led her into a waltz.
‘You look very smart and you should be very proud of what you’re doing. We all know it can’t be easy. I was appalled when I heard that you don’t even have a radio on board.’
‘No, just maps and a compass.’ She laughed. ‘It’s all right until you get into fog or low cloud. Then it can be a bit hairy.’
‘I bet. D’you get lost often?’
‘Not often, no, but it does happen. The biggest danger then is either getting out over the sea or running out of fuel or getting tangled up in barrage balloons. I carry a list of airfields in the vicinity of where I’m going – just in case.’
His arm tightened around her. ‘Well, I hope our base is on your list.’
‘Of course it is,’ she whispered against his ear.
As the waltz ended the band struck up a Charleston.
‘Can you do this?’ Daisy asked. ‘Milly taught me years ago.’
‘She taught me too. Come on, let’s show ’em how it’s done.’
The floor was almost clear with only four couples left, expertly executing the fast and furious Charleston. They swivelled in perfect synchronicity, then Johnny threw her around his waist and then up into the air to loud cheers from the onlookers, who stood at the side of the floor clapping in time to the music. As the music came to an end, the breathless dancers sat down to rapturous applause. Then they took to the floor again to a more sedate tango.
‘Let’s sit the next one out,’ Johnny said, as the dance ended. ‘Wait here. I’ll get us some drinks.’
Daisy watched him as he threaded his way around the edge of the dance floor, noticing that he drew admiring glances from several girls. She couldn’t blame them; he really was a good-looking young man and the smart blue uniform only added to his undoubted attraction. One girl even approached him, smiling and swaying her hips.
But he’s mine, she wanted to shout. The realization hit her with a jolt. She was in love with Johnny Hammond. Her palms felt clammy and her heart beat even faster than when she had been dancing. She felt herself blushing and hoped she could control it by the time he came back. She watched as the girl touched his arm, jealousy rising in her like bile, but Johnny only smiled and gestured over his shoulder to where Daisy was sitting. The girl grimaced and appeared to say something, but then she patted his shoulder and turned away. Johnny continued on his way to the bar.
He’d paid for the drinks and was about to pick them up when the wail of an air-raid siren sounded. The band stopped playing at once and the MC took the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, but his instructions were lost in the cacophony of noise. However, it seemed that the people there knew the drill, as they began to file towards the exits.
‘Daisy, Daisy!’ Johnny was shouting as he pushed his way through the throng. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door and out into the street.
‘Isn’t there a basement or something here?’ she gasped.
‘No, we must get to the Underground. Uncle Mitch told me it’s the safest place. It’s not far . . .’
When they stepped into the street, they were greeted by the terrific noise not only of sirens now, but also of the drone of bombers overhead. Bombs were already falling a few streets away, great crashes followed by fires. Incendiaries scattered in the middle of the road as they ran, hand in hand, along the pavement.
‘Here’s the entrance. Oh heck, there’s a queue already. Quick, let’s wait in this doorway until we can get down.’
An air-raid warden was marshalling the people down the steps into the Underground station. ‘Come on, you two,’ he shouted, catching sight of them huddled in the doorway. ‘Can’t have our brave RAF lads getting caught.’
A little boy of four or five was standing near the entrance, crying. Johnny paused and bent down. ‘You lost your mum?’
The child hiccupped, grimy tears streaking his face, and nodded.
‘Come on, old chap. Come down with us. Daisy, tell the warden that we’ve got a lost little boy and that we’re taking him down with us.’ As he picked him up, he said, ‘What’s your name, little man?’
The tears stopped momentarily. ‘Alfie.’
‘Well, Alfie, you come with me and Daisy down here where we’ll be safe and the warden will keep an eye out for your mum.’ He pointed down the stairs. ‘Did she go down there?’ The child nodded again.
‘Let’s go and find her, then. Daisy, hold onto my jacket. I don’t want to lose you.’
As they descended, the sound of the bombing lessened a little, but now there was a different noise; that of hundreds of Londoners trying to find safety.
They stood to one side on the bottom step for a moment, whilst others pushed past them. ‘Can you see anyone who seems to be looking for a child, Daisy?’
Daisy glanced about her, peering through the gloom. ‘No, but there are so many people. Even if she’s down here, we might not find her.’
‘Let’s keep him with us at least until the air raid’s over.’
They found a place by the wall and a family lent them a blanket to sit on.
‘That’s so kind, thank you.’
‘Anything to help our lads.’ The man grinned and pour
ed them a cup of tea from a flask. ‘If you don’t mind sharin’ – hadn’t time to bring the best china. I’m Ted, by the way.’ He handed the mug over and Daisy and Johnny drank gratefully.
‘The missus has got some juice for the kids. Your little lad like some, would he?’
‘I’m sure he would, but he’s not ours. We found him lost at the entrance and thought the best thing to do would be to bring him down here with us. We could hardly leave him up there.’
‘Poor little feller. I bet his mum’s out of her mind with worry. It’s so easy to get separated when everyone’s rushing for the shelter, ’specially if you’ve got more than one to keep hold of.’ The man stood up and looked about him. ‘Can’t see anyone, but we’ll keep an eye out. Now, little feller, you drink this.’
The child drank thirstily and then his head lolled against Johnny’s shoulder and he fell asleep. Johnny put his arms around him and rocked him gently, whilst Daisy snuggled up to Johnny’s other shoulder.
‘Is this what Uncle Mitch does? He’s an air-raid warden, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. Somewhere in Clapham near where he has a flat. He’s not far from where your aunt lives, I think.’
‘She’s not there very often now, though I think she goes home on her days off.’ Daisy yawned. Johnny released one arm from holding the child and put it around her. She snuggled closer and, despite the noise and the closeness of so many people, she too fell asleep.
Ted nodded towards her. ‘Your girlfriend, is she?’
Johnny smiled in the half-light. ‘I’m working on it,’ he murmured.
The man laughed. ‘Pretty girl. Don’t leave it too long, mate, or someone else’ll snap her up.’
If they haven’t already, Johnny thought, thinking of Luke.
Ted was speaking again, determined to keep a conversation going. ‘I know what you do, mate, but I don’t recognize her uniform. What is it?’
‘She’s in the Air Transport Auxiliary. She ferries aircraft about the country mainly from the factories to the airfields.’
The Spitfire Sisters Page 20