The Spitfire Sisters

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The Spitfire Sisters Page 33

by Margaret Dickinson


  He arched his eyebrow and glanced at her as if to say ‘that’s rather a silly question’, but all he said was, ‘Of course I don’t.’

  As she got out of the car and lifted her suitcase out of the back, she said, ‘Bye for now. See you soon . . .’

  Milly and Pips enjoyed an evening together.

  ‘No Paul?’ Pips asked.

  Milly sighed. ‘I don’t see much of him. He works such long hours, but at least he’s not away all the time, like a lot of women’s husbands are. I’m luckier than most. And I keep myself busy. I help out at the WVS now. There’s always plenty to do.’

  ‘Are you going back to your parents?’

  Milly shook her head. ‘I’ve managed to persuade Paul to agree to me staying here, for the time being at least.’

  And so it was back to life as they’d all known it before Luke had gone missing; Luke and Harry to their squadrons, Daisy and Gill to Hamble and Pips to Bletchley. Life in Doddington settled back into its routine, though the anxiety for those left at home was constant, perhaps even sharper than it had been. Now they knew what could happen.

  Fifty-Three

  There were no repercussions from Daisy’s daring rescue of Luke. If those in high authority had got to hear about it, they had chosen to turn a blind eye. No harm had been done and a serving pilot had been rescued to fight another day.

  The weeks passed; Daisy, Gill and their fellow airwomen continued to deliver aircraft to wherever they were needed. Much to her delight, most of Daisy’s deliveries were now Spitfires. Luke and Harry continued to fly their aeroplanes and those left at home went on worrying about all of them.

  In the middle of November there was, at long last, some good news. Church bells, which had been silent for so long throughout the country – only to be sounded in the event of an invasion – now pealed in glorious celebration at the news of General Montgomery’s Eighth Army’s victory at El Alamein earlier that month. A few days later, Russian troops near Stalingrad launched a counterblow on the German Sixth Army. German soldiers were dying of starvation and the extreme cold as well as being killed by gunfire.

  Another Christmas came and went and none of those in the services could get home this year. ‘What a good thing we had that party in May,’ Henrietta said. ‘But we’ll still have the Dawsons, the Coopers and the Nuttalls here on Boxing Day.’

  Edwin chuckled. ‘That’s if they’ll come. After Len’s little outburst last time, I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Silly man.’ Henrietta sniffed. ‘When’s he going to learn he can’t have everything his own way?’

  ‘I don’t think he ever will, Hetty, my love.’

  In January 1943, Field Marshall von Paulus surrendered to the Russian Army at Stalingrad. The Russian winter, as well as the fierce defence of their country by the Red Army, was slowly defeating the German invasion.

  Such news gave the Allies hope and a renewed vigour. In March, the authorities began plans to target German industry, in particular the Ruhr. In the same month, a new squadron was formed at RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire. Its eventual first mission was veiled in secrecy, but the aircrews, who would fly in Lancaster bombers, had to undertake special training in low-level night flying. In April, the Prime Minister decreed that church bells could be rung every Sunday in the normal way. This, perhaps more than anything else, told the people of Britain that the threat of invasion no longer existed.

  A few days later, Johnny told Daisy that he was being posted.

  ‘The American Air Force is coming to Duxford,’ he said, ‘so my squadron are moving out.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘We don’t know yet, but I think it’ll still be in the south somewhere.’

  Daisy sighed. ‘It was bound to happen.’

  In the middle of May, the Operations Manager called Daisy into her office.

  ‘I have a special delivery for you. Since you passed your Class Five, have you flown a Lancaster?’

  ‘Only once, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ve got one for you today, so be sure to study your pilot’s notes again carefully. I’ve already arranged for a flight engineer to go with you.’

  ‘Where am I going?’

  ‘It’s to be picked up from Farnborough and taken to Scampton in Lincolnshire.’

  Daisy gasped. ‘That’s just down the road from where I live.’

  The CO was thoughtful. ‘I can let you have a seventy-two-hour pass. I’ll get the flight engineer picked up from Scampton, but you’ll have to make your way back here by train after your leave.’

  Daisy nodded, her eyes shining. ‘Thank you, ma’am. I haven’t been home for almost a year and I’d love some time with my family, even if it’s only for a couple of nights.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’ The CO’s mouth twitched. ‘I expect it’s difficult for you to decide where to go when you do get some leave. Home – or to wherever Flight Lieutenant Hammond is.’

  Just before she was due to take off, Daisy inspected the huge aeroplane carefully. ‘It looks a bit different.’

  ‘It’s been modified, but don’t ask me why or what for, because none of us know,’ one of the fitters told her. He tapped the side of his nose. ‘All shrouded in secrecy, but we’re guessing it’s for some special mission.’

  ‘Will it affect the flying?’ was all Daisy wanted to know.

  ‘Not for you, I don’t think. Anyway, take it carefully. You’ll be in a lot of trouble if you lose this beauty.’

  The flight was uneventful and when she landed on the flat, windswept airfield she was quickly surrounded by several very handsome airmen.

  ‘Good Lord, a girl? Come on, love, let’s take you to the mess and get you something to eat.’

  ‘How did she handle?’

  ‘Perfectly.’ The men glanced at each other, but no one volunteered any information and Daisy knew better than to ask. It was like a party in the mess, each young man vying for her attention.

  ‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the lovely Daisy Maitland.’ A voice she knew very well spoke behind her.

  ‘Good Lord. You! Whatever are you doing here, Harry?’

  ‘Can’t really say, Dais. You know how it is.’ He joined the merry group.

  ‘How are you getting back to Hamble?’

  ‘The Anson’s coming to pick the flight engineer up today, but I’ve been granted a seventy-two. I can go home for a couple of days whilst I’m up this way.’

  ‘Well, keep your eyes peeled,’ one of the younger airmen said with a grin. ‘We do a lot of low-flying night-time practising. Much to the disgust of the locals.’

  Still, Daisy asked nothing.

  As she prepared to leave to go to Doddington, the airmen vied with each other to be the one to give her a lift. To her surprise, Harry declined the opportunity. Just as she was leaving with a fair-haired young airman, he drew her aside.

  ‘Please don’t tell them at home that I’m here, Dais. We don’t get any leave and it’s all very hush-hush. Just for your information – and only yours – I’m with 617 Squadron now and we’re obviously being trained for something special, but none of us know what yet.’

  ‘I won’t say a word to anyone, Harry.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Just take care of yourself.’

  It had been good to meet them all, but she was saddened to think that whatever their special mission was, the likelihood of every one of them returning was remote. She just prayed that Harry would come back safely.

  As always, her bed was ready at the hall and she spent a cosy family dinner with her parents and grandparents, hearing all the village news. Afterwards they sat in the parlour, still talking and reminiscing, but plans for the future were not easy to talk about.

  The following day she went riding with her father and visited Norah Dawson and Peggy, though she did not see either Len or Sam, who were busy at the workshop.

  That evening, just after they had lingered longer than usual over dinner, Robert said, ‘Daisy, come outside a minute.’

&n
bsp; They stepped out of the front door and stood side by side at the top of the steps.

  ‘Listen.’

  In the stillness of the May night they could hear a faint, continuous low throbbing sound that ebbed and flowed.

  ‘I know that sound. That’s Lancasters taking off from Scampton,’ Daisy whispered. ‘They’re on their way to wherever it is they’re going.’ She said a silent prayer for all those fine young men she had met the previous day. She felt very guilty that she could not share the knowledge that Harry was most likely one of their number, not even with her father. But it was best that way; they all had wartime secrets that must be kept. The sound died away but still, they stood listening to the silence.

  ‘I wonder how many aircraft have gone,’ Daisy murmured. ‘And where they’re going.’

  ‘I expect they’ll go in waves and probably take different routes to wherever they’re going.’ Robert put his arm around her. ‘Come on, let’s go in. It’s getting chilly and you’re shivering. Perhaps we’ll hear about it tomorrow. If it’s a big mission, they’ll release information once it’s over.’

  But Daisy couldn’t sleep; through the night she imagined she kept hearing aircraft returning and her thoughts were with the airmen she’d met, their merry faces and teasing banter – and Harry.

  The following day the BBC gave the news that during the night nineteen aircraft had left to attack dams in the Ruhr valley, the centre of Germany’s industry. Two out of the three major dams attacked had been breached, causing devastating flooding. Power stations and factories had been destroyed or badly damaged, which would interrupt the German production for several months. But then came the sad news as the announcer in a solemn voice ended, ‘Eight of our aircraft are missing.’

  ‘Hello, Mam.’

  ‘Harry!’ Peggy flung her arms around him and pulled him into the house. ‘How wonderful to see you. Where have you come from?’ Without waiting for his reply, she shouted, ‘Sam – Sam! Harry’s home.’

  Sam came into the kitchen, smiling broadly, and shook his son’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you. Where have you come from?’ He now asked the same question as his wife, but he waited for the answer.

  Harry’s grin widened. ‘Just up the road. I’m based at Scampton at the moment.’

  ‘Never! Well, that’s good news. You’ll be able to get home a bit more often perhaps. When did you arrive?’

  Harry chuckled. ‘Now I’m going to get a rollicking from Mam. Two months ago.’

  Peggy stared at him, her mouth open. ‘You’ve been that close all this time and not been to see us? Not a word?’

  ‘Now, Peggy, love. Maybe he wasn’t allowed.’

  ‘Dad’s right, Mam. You’ve all heard about the raid on the dams in Germany . . .’

  Before he could say more, Peggy gasped and her hand fluttered to her mouth. ‘Oh no. Don’t say you were on that.’

  Slowly he nodded and now his face was solemn. ‘Yes, I was and it was all so hush-hush, none of us were allowed leave until it was all over and the news was out. I’m sorry, Mam, but—’

  Peggy rushed to him to hug him hard. ‘Don’t, Harry. Don’t say any more. I’m sorry for saying anything. Sam’s always telling me that you and Luke can’t get home. And Daisy, why, she’s only just been after nearly a year without a visit.’

  ‘I know, I saw her.’

  ‘You – you did?’

  ‘She brought one of the Lancasters to Scampton, one of the planes that were to take part in Operation Chastise.’

  ‘Daisy? Daisy flew one of those huge planes?’

  ‘She did. She flies all sorts.’

  ‘Oh Harry.’ Peggy buried her face against his shoulder and he put his arms about her.

  Over her shoulder he caught and held his father’s gaze. ‘Dad, will you do me a favour? Can you ask them at the hall to let Daisy know I’m safe? She’s probably gone back by now.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Sam said huskily.

  ‘And now,’ Harry said lightly, holding his mother at arm’s length. ‘I’m off down the road to see little Kitty Page – if she’s at home. I want her to know that her four-leafed clover kept me safe.’

  Fifty-Four

  Through the summer months of 1943, life in Doddington continued. Edwin was still a member of the local Home Guard and enjoying every minute. It had given him a new lease of life, even at eighty-three, and Henrietta still ran the estate with Jake’s help.

  ‘Goodness me, we’re in the middle of September already and there’s still so much to do on the farm and in the orchards. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jake,’ she said yet again. ‘But I can’t say I’ll be sorry to hand over the reins to Miss Daisy and you when the war is over.’

  ‘Do – do you think we’re going to win, Mrs Maitland?’

  Henrietta stared at him in surprise. ‘Don’t ever doubt it, Jake. Not for a minute. With Churchill leading us, we can’t possibly fail.’

  Jake smiled. ‘He does inspire folk, doesn’t he?’

  ‘It’s his indomitable spirit that keeps us all going. Now, tell me your ideas for planting for the next year . . .’

  Remarkably, the energetic Henrietta – now in her seventy-ninth year – still found time to involve the women of the village in the war effort. At home, the family were still fortunate in having enough staff to keep the hall running as it always had, though Cook sometimes despaired of how to produce appetizing meals with the rations. In the village, the women were all heavily involved in the WVS and in caring for the evacuee children who were still with them. All of them that were still there had settled in very well. Even Len was happy for Bernard to go to his workshop any time he wanted. Little by little he began to show the lad the work and Sam, too, guided the boy through the art of blacksmithing.

  As for Florence Everton, she had never been happier. At last – even if it was only temporary – she felt like a real mother. The two little waifs, June and Joan Carter, who had arrived bedraggled and frightened in Doddington, had blossomed into boisterous, merry little girls. And Florence loved them.

  ‘I just don’t know what she’s going to do when they go back home,’ Conrad confided in Robert. ‘She’ll be heartbroken.’

  ‘Have you ever thought about adoption? I don’t necessarily mean those two, but you know that after the war there are going to be plenty of unwanted babies – ones born either out of wedlock or whilst husbands were away. Not all communities will be as forgiving or as supportive as ours was to Peggy over Luke.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you’re right, Robert. I’ll talk to Florence about it. Perhaps it would give her something to focus on instead of worrying about when she’ll have to part with these two.’ He smiled fondly. ‘They are adorable, though.’

  Betty Cooper had never married, but she loved her job at the hall as lady’s maid to Mrs Maitland and Alice. Peggy, too, still worked part time there except when her boys were home on leave – which, sadly, wasn’t very often now.

  ‘Do you know,’ she said one morning when she was helping her sister to put away the laundry in Henrietta’s bedroom, ‘little Kitty Page comes faithfully twice a week to visit me to ask after Harry?’

  Betty smiled and shook her head fondly. ‘She’s a nice little thing.’

  Peggy laughed. ‘We’ve always called her “little Kitty”, but she must be eighteen or nineteen now. She works hard on the farm and in Mrs Maitland’s grounds, but she’s forever smiling, bless her.’

  ‘You sound fond of her.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Would you like her as a daughter-in-law?’

  ‘I would, but I don’t think it’s ever going to happen. Harry’s such a flirt. Mind you, when he was home the other week, he did go to see her.’

  ‘Is he still just up the road at Scampton?’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘No, his squadron has moved to Coningsby now.’

  ‘That’s still not far away, though, is it? Still in Lincolnshire.’ Betty paused and then added, ‘But I do hope he do
esn’t break little Kitty’s heart. She obviously idolizes him.’

  ‘Always has done, right from being a little girl.’

  Betty sighed. ‘War’s cruel, isn’t it?’

  There was silence between the two sisters for a moment as they remembered their own terrible losses in the last war.

  ‘Let’s hope it’ll all be over soon and the boys will be back home,’ Betty murmured, almost afraid to voice such hopes. ‘Then we’ll see . . .’

  It was only two days after this conversation that Peggy arrived at the hall, her face blotchy from crying and tears still coursing down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, whatever’s the matter?’ Betty pulled her into the kitchen and pushed her gently into a chair.

  ‘It’s – it’s Harry.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Betty breathed. ‘Tell me. Tell me quickly.’

  ‘We had a telegram. He crashed his plane. Down south somewhere.’

  ‘Is he – is he . . .?’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘He’s still alive, but – but he’s terribly injured. That’s all I know, Betty. I don’t even know where he is. I just wondered if – if Mrs Maitland . . .?’

  ‘Of course she’ll do whatever she can. We both know that. Come on, let’s go and see her. She’s in the parlour with Cook planning the day’s meals.’

  Betty knocked on the door and opened it. ‘Mrs Maitland, I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is urgent. Harry’s been badly hurt in a plane crash. We wondered—’

  ‘Oh come in, Betty. Is Peggy here? Oh yes, I see she is.’ Henrietta stood up and held out her arms to the weeping woman. ‘Come in and sit down. Cook, please would you ask Sarah to bring us hot, sweet tea. Poor Peggy’s had a nasty shock. Now, dear, tell me all you know.’

  Peggy hiccupped and dried her tears, but fresh ones soon welled. ‘I don’t know much, Mrs Maitland. That’s the worst.’

  ‘I’ll telephone Scampton. He’s still based there, isn’t he?’

  ‘No, no, he’s still with the same squadron, but they’re at Coningsby now.’ Whilst she drank tea and tried to stop shaking, Henrietta telephoned the RAF base, but when she came back into the room, she had no more news. ‘They don’t know any more than we do at the moment, but they said his crew will be on their way back. They’ll know more when they can debrief them.’

 

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