The Spitfire Sisters

by Margaret Dickinson

  Brigitta giggled suddenly. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been called that – I rather like it.’ She put her arm round his shoulders. ‘Oh Luke, it’s so good to see you, even under these difficult circumstances.’

  William smiled and answered his question. ‘Partly, I think, but mainly because I look after the military cemetery here and also tend the German graves at Langemark. I’ll take you there. If we’re seen looking after their graves, perhaps it will help stop any uncomfortable questions. But today, we’ll start here. Are you feeling up to a little work?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Still no news?’ Henrietta asked. She called every day now to see Norah.

  Norah pressed her lips together and shook her head, banging the flat iron down onto the shirt she was ironing in an angry movement. ‘You’d think they’d send word, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Well, in this case, Mrs Dawson, I think no news is decidedly good news. It means they haven’t heard for definite that he’s been killed. You must cling to that.’

  Norah sighed. ‘I know you’re right, Mrs Maitland, and it’s so good of you to come each day.’ She looked up and tried to smile. ‘It does buoy us up. Me and Bess.’

  ‘I just want to know you’re all right, my dear. It’s a tough time for you all.’

  Tactfully, without actually mentioning his name, she included Len. Catching on, Norah said, ‘Aye, it is. Len dun’t say much – in fact, he won’t mention it – but I know he’s feeling it. He’s working harder than ever to deal with it. Burying hissen in work. I have to say I’m lucky in one way. He hasn’t turned to the drink to drown his sorrows. I dun’t reckon I could deal with that.’

  Henrietta sniffed and thought, not with his temper inflamed by drink, no, you couldn’t, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she said, ‘Philippa rings almost every night now and Daisy whenever she can. I think she’s in contact with Luke’s friend on the airfield where they were stationed. They’ve heard nothing either.’

  ‘Then we’ll just have to keep waiting, Mrs Maitland, won’t we?’

  Henrietta nodded. ‘And hoping.’

  As she walked back to the hall, she was stopped three times on the way by villagers enquiring after Luke.

  William took Luke to the local military cemetery. ‘Is this where Uncle George’s friend is buried?’

  ‘No, that’s near Brandhoek. I go there too sometimes. We’ll go and see if we can find it. How is George, by the way?’

  Luke stared at him. ‘Oh Lor’. Of course, I was totally forgetting. You won’t know, will you? George was killed in the London Blitz. His daughter, Rebecca, too. She was visiting him at the time.’

  William turned white. Hoarsely, he asked, ‘And Pips?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘She’s fine. She wasn’t there when it happened. She’s working away from London – though none of us know exactly what she’s doing. Here, Uncle William, sit down a minute. You’ve had a shock. It was stupid of me not to realize you haven’t heard news from home for months.’

  ‘It’s years now. Pips’s last letter arrived just before the occupation and we’ve had nothing from either Pips or Alice since.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you do know, then.’

  ‘Not much, I’m guessing. Tell me.’

  They sat together on a bench at the side of the cemetery whilst Luke told William briefly about what had happened since the beginning of the war; about Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain and then about the Blitz. William knew some of it, but not all. As he talked, Luke gazed out over the sea of white markers and this, he remembered, was only a comparatively small cemetery in this area. So many lives lost and now it was all happening again.

  ‘We’re still getting bombed, of course, all over the country now,’ he told William, ‘but the London Blitz was horrific. Night after night for months. Ironically, poor Uncle George was killed on the very worst night of the whole campaign. After that they eased up a bit for some reason. You see, they were trying to get control of the skies as a prelude to invasion, but they didn’t manage it.’

  ‘Because of you RAF boys, I expect.’

  Luke grinned and said modestly, ‘Well, we did our bit, I suppose. At least Churchill seemed to think so.’ Then his face sobered. ‘We lost a lot of pilots – all fine men – and aircraft too. You won’t know that Daisy has joined the Air Transport Auxiliary and delivers all sorts of different aeroplanes – though mainly Spitfires now – all over the country. She loves the Spitfire. There’s a women’s section and she’s one of the pilots.’

  ‘Good heavens! Little Daisy? Really?’

  Luke chuckled. ‘Yes, really.’

  William lifted his head as he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. ‘I think someone’s coming. We’d better get working. Here.’ He handed Luke a thin-tined fork. ‘Start at the far end of that row and clear any weeds from around the markers.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And remember, if it is the Germans, you don’t speak.’

  Luke nodded.

  By the time the German staff car pulled up and the officer alighted from the back seat, they were both hard at work with their heads down.

  The officer came towards William. He was tall and straight-backed, but limped a little. As he drew close, he was looking at William intently.

  ‘Are you Wilhelm Dawson?’ He spoke very good English, though he used the German form of the name.

  William straightened up. ‘Yes, sir. I am.’

  ‘The Englishman who married a Belgian nurse after the last war and lives on a farm near here?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘Yes, I have been told about you. You also tend the cemeteries around here and so have been allowed to stay.’ This time it was a statement rather than a question.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The man grunted and nodded. ‘Four months ago, I was posted here to Ypres to control this area.’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ve seen you driving round,’ William murmured.

  ‘I cannot be sent on active service. I was wounded in the last war.’ He looked about him, his glance coming to rest on Luke. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘My wife’s cousin’s boy.’ Because Brigitta had no siblings – which would be an easy fact to check – they had thought to make the relationship a little vaguer. ‘He has come to stay with us for a while, so I thought I would make use of him. An extra pair of hands is always welcome.’

  ‘Where is he from?’

  This was something that they hadn’t thought to plan, so William was obliged to say the first thing that came into his head: the place Luke had mentioned.

  ‘Dranouter, sir.’ Mentally, William crossed his fingers, hoping the officer wouldn’t have heard of a Spitfire crashing in that area.

  ‘Mm. I don’t know where that is,’ he murmured, but it didn’t seem to require an answer, so William said nothing.

  ‘Why is he not serving in the armed forces?’

  ‘He – has a speech difficulty, sir. I think he failed a medical.’

  ‘Mm.’ The officer stared towards Luke for a long moment, then he turned and gazed again at William, frowning slightly.

  Then with a sudden movement, a swift nod, he turned away, walked back to his car and was gone. William and Luke carried on working until the car was safely out of sight.

  Two nights later, Waldo came to the farm, sitting down at the table to wolf down the meal his mother had prepared for him just in case he should appear.

  ‘We never know when he might come,’ Brigitta explained to Luke, ‘so I am always ready.’

  ‘It’s good to see you again,’ Waldo said to Luke in perfect English. He and his elder brother had been brought up to be bilingual. ‘It’s been a long time, though I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.’

  ‘Me too.’

  When Waldo had finished eating, they sat around the fire and discussed what could be done to help Luke get back to England.

  ‘We could send him down the ordinary escap
e routes,’ Waldo said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Is there any way of letting them know back home that I’m OK?’

  ‘I can get one of my pianists to send a message through the usual channels.’

  Luke was puzzled. ‘Pianist?’

  ‘It’s what the resistance call their radio operators.’

  ‘I suppose you send it all in code?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got an idea for the message that wouldn’t be easily understood unless it gets to the right people.’

  When he told them, they all laughed. ‘You’d make a very good agent,’ Waldo complimented him.

  ‘No, I’m better flying my Spitfire, if I can just get back home.’

  Forty-Seven

  The messages for the Special Operations Executive, who liaised with their own agents and with Resistance workers in occupied countries, went through the Secret Intelligence Service or MI6 radio station at Bletchley Park, but a move of their operation to another receiving and transmitting station located at Grendon Underwood was planned for early June. On the Sunday morning after Luke had been posted as missing, an SOE decoder, still working at the Park, sought out his superior.

  ‘We had a very strange message come through last night.’

  ‘Who’s it from?’

  ‘One of the Resistance people working around Ypres. He organizes the escape of POWs on the run and airmen who’ve been shot down if they’ve been able to remain at large. We don’t get many escapees in that area, but there are a few. His main job is sabotage.’

  ‘What’s it say?’

  ‘“Pips stop Luke fifteen three to ten stop William”. Then he signed off with his usual call sign.’

  ‘You don’t think his call sign has been compromised?’

  ‘Not with a garbled message like this that doesn’t mean anything, even when it’s decoded.’

  ‘Has it been done properly?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve had two different people do it as a check and they both came up with exactly the same message.’

  ‘Take it across to the huts, Tony. See if anyone there has any ideas. It’s an odd one, I grant you.’

  ‘Good morning, ladies. I need your help.’ Tony stood just inside the door of the first hut, waving the piece of paper. Three heads shot up.

  ‘Anything for a handsome young man.’ A blonde girl stood up and sashayed towards him. ‘And to get a break,’ she muttered as she neared him. ‘How can we help, sunshine?’

  He handed the message to her.

  ‘Is it legit?’

  ‘I think so. It’s from one of our regular pianists.’

  She turned to face the rest of the room. ‘Listen up, girls.’ Then she read the message out.

  ‘The only “pips” I can think of are those at the beginning of a news bulletin.’

  ‘Is there a news reader called Luke? Or William?’

  A ripple of laughter went through the room.

  ‘No, it’s usually Alvar Liddell.’

  ‘Or Frank Phillips.’

  ‘There’s a John somebody.’

  ‘John Snagge. But no Luke or William that we can think of.’

  She handed the paper back to him. ‘Take it around the other huts. Someone might have a bright idea. Sorry we can’t help.’

  ‘Thanks, anyway.’

  In the next hut he entered, there was a William, but he could not think why his name would be mentioned. In another building, a man named Luke felt the same.

  It was in the fourth building he visited where someone said, ‘There’s a woman in hut six called Pips.’

  ‘Oh right, thanks. I’ll try there.’

  Again, he entered another hut and stood just inside the doorway. ‘Sorry to trouble you, but is there a lady here called “Pips”?’

  Several fingers pointed to a woman sitting in the far corner.

  ‘She’s called “Pips”, but she’s no lady. She didn’t even “come out”,’ said a slightly superior voice, but it was filled with teasing good humour.

  Pips rose from her seat and walked down the room, ruffling the hair of the girl who’d spoken as she passed her.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘How can I help?’

  Yet again, Tony explained.

  Pips took the paper into her hands and then began to smile. ‘I think it could well be for me.’

  ‘Ho, ho,’ the mischievous voice came again. ‘A secret assignation. We’ll have to put a stop to this, girls.’

  Pips turned towards her colleagues. ‘I don’t suppose any of you have got a bible with you?’ She grinned at the girl who had teased her. ‘Not you, of course, Polly.’

  A shy girl, who hadn’t been with them long, put her hand up tentatively. ‘I’ve got one in my cabin.’

  ‘Be a darling and get it for me, would you?’

  ‘Um – yes – all right.’

  The girl scuttled out and was gone for ten minutes. She was breathless when she returned, but she was clutching a bible.

  ‘Thanks, Ruth.’

  Quickly, Pips turned to the Gospel according to Luke, chapter fifteen, and read swiftly through verses three to ten. ‘It’s the parable of the lost sheep,’ she said. Everyone in the room was listening now. ‘A young airman connected to my family was shot down recently. He was posted missing. His name was Luke.’ There was a ripple of excitement. ‘And he has an uncle, William, who lives not far from Ypres. I’m guessing he’s with him.’

  ‘My goodness,’ Polly of the superior voice said. Her teasing had stopped now and she came towards Pips. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant. It’s wonderful news for you. For heaven’s sake – go and telephone home.’

  ‘Well, that’s good.’ Tony grinned, as they walked out of the hut together. ‘Mystery solved. We’ll see what we can do to get him home. I’ll get in touch with our HQ in London.’

  It was just before lunchtime when the telephone rang at the hall. Robert was still at church with his parents, so it was Alice who answered.

  The line was crackly. ‘Pips? Is that you? Is something wrong?’ It was a strange time of the day for her to ring.

  ‘No – just the opposite. We’re pretty sure that Luke is safe and that he’s with William.’

  ‘William!’

  ‘Yes. I can’t tell you how I know, Alice, you’ll just have to take my word.’

  ‘Of course we will. But – but – I mean – is he safe?’

  ‘At the moment, yes, but we must try to get him home if we can. He is in occupied territory after all. I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Oh Pips, how . . .?’ But the line had gone dead.

  Alice rushed through the house, calling out to anyone who could hear her. ‘He’s safe. Luke is safe.’

  Henrietta was just entering through the front door on her way back from church. ‘Alice, whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh Mother,’ Alice clasped her hands together. Tears of joy were shimmering in her eyes. ‘He’s safe. Luke is safe. Pips has just telephoned.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news, but how on earth did Pips find out?’

  ‘I – um – don’t know.’ Alice hesitated. She knew that Pips was engaged in some sort of secret work that was not to be talked about. ‘But I’m so thankful that she did. I must go and tell Peggy at once and Mam and Dad too. Mother, where’s Robert?’

  ‘Still at the church talking to the vicar, I believe.’

  ‘If I don’t see him, please tell him the wonderful news.’

  ‘Of course I will, but what about—’ Henrietta began, but Alice whirled around and was gone. ‘Luncheon?’ The older woman finished her sentence with a smile on her face. Alice’s mission was far more important and urgent than eating.

  ‘Wainwright,’ Henrietta turned to the manservant hovering close by. ‘Will you please ask Cook to hold back luncheon for half an hour? I think Miss Alice may be a little while.’

  Alice ran down the long drive and through the gate into the churchyard.

  ‘Rob
ert! Robert!’

  He was emerging from the church door, still talking to the vicar. The other worshippers had already gone home; there were just the two of them discussing church and village business. He looked up with an anxious frown as he heard her voice.

  ‘Robert, he’s safe. Luke is safe. I must go and tell Peggy and oh – everyone.’

  She turned away and began to run again.

  ‘Alice, let Jake drive you.’

  ‘No, I can’t wait. I’ll explain everything later . . .’

  She reached the lane and began to run even faster, not stopping until she was forced to do so by the sensation that her lungs might burst if she didn’t slow down. But still she hurried towards the cottage where Peggy and Sam lived.

  ‘Peggy,’ she panted. She banged on the front door, but there was no reply. Hurrying round the side of the cottage and into the back garden, she saw Peggy tying up some tulips that had bent over in the wind. ‘Peggy – Peggy. He’s safe. Luke is safe.’

  Peggy stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Pips telephoned. He’s with William. That’s all I know.’

  ‘William?’ Peggy was shocked, but then realization began to flood through her. ‘William,’ she repeated softly and then added, ‘Of course. Luke has visited him before. He’d know William would help him.’

  ‘But it’s still in occupied territory. If William is hiding him and is caught . . .’ Alice said no more. They all knew the consequences William and indeed his whole family could face if they were caught harbouring or helping an escaped airman.

  ‘Do you know any more?’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Sorry, no. Just that he’s safe.’

  Peggy pulled a face. ‘If you can call still being in enemy territory “safe”.’

  ‘I know what you mean, but I expect they’ll try to send him down an escape route. Anyway, I must go. I must let my mam know and Dad will be at home today. I’ll leave you to tell Sam.’

  When Alice walked in through the back door of her parents’ cottage, through the scullery and into the kitchen, she found her mother and father sitting down to their midday meal.

  ‘Luke’s safe,’ she said at once, without any greeting. ‘Pips has somehow found out that he’s with William.’