‘Do not be under any illusions, though, this is going to be a very tough fight and it may well not be winnable. Be warned, if we can’t hold back the Prussians, we might find that we have to pull out in a hurry, so take nothing with you that you wouldn’t want to lose.’
She gazed around the room, taking in the faces of men and women who, far from looking scared at the thought of the battle ahead, seemed keen get back into the war and make a difference. She nodded, satisfied. ‘Having said that, the King and I have every confidence that if anyone can pull off the impossible, it’s Misfit Squadron.’
The raising of the pavilion proved the highlight of the morning and, with nothing else left to do, most of the squadron turned out to watch it being put up.
It was delivered in four long thick canvas-wrapped sections, so big that each needed its own vehicle and were unloaded one by one by twenty straining and sweating men. The watching squadron offered to help, but the workers refused; apparently the pavilion in its broken-down form was delicately prepared and even a single misstep in unwrapping them could delay the erection process by hours.
The fat, sausage-shaped sections were laid one by one on the grass of the lawn at very specific places that were marked out by a man with a theodolite. They were then unfolded lengthwise until the ends were touching, forming a giant rectangle. The resulting long thin tubes were then unrolled towards the centre of the rectangle, revealing that they were in fact isosceles triangles and the men rushed about connecting each triangle to its neighbour until the result was a solid white sheet of canvas, reinforced with a polymer coating on its upper side to protect the occupants from the elements.
Next, four small steam engines were wheeled down ramps from the backs of the vehicles and the men attached them to four six-inch-thick metal disks which they fixed to the corners of the rectangular canvas. The engines were checked over quickly, then ignited and when they were all whistling happily, with a full head of steam, the foreman gave a signal, levers were thrown, and they began to chug.
At first there was no noticeable change, but then the tight sheet shivered and ever so slowly began to rise above the ground as columns telescoped from the disks.
When questioned, the workers revealed that the full process of the pavilion’s raising was going to take close to an hour, longer if one of the columns stuck and the process had to be halted while the problem was sorted. So, while the spectacle was still interesting, it was too slow to hold the interest of the squadron. That problem was solved very quickly, though, when Lord Bagshot himself came out of the mansion and called for volunteers to help to set up several tables on the patio and his cooking staff began to bring out snacks and drinks.
The Misfit jazz band, the “Individualists”, had been rather upset when they had found out that Lord Bagshot had contracted a twenty-piece swing dance band that was visiting from America for the party, until someone pointed out that they would be free to drink and dance. Now, though, they saw their chance and ran off to get their instruments. However, instead of their usual upbeat dance music, they played lighter tunes that were more suitable for an afternoon of socialising.
Rank was set aside, as the Misfits always did on such occasions, and the pilots mixed with the support staff, to eat and drink. They showed much more restraint and drank far less than they usually did, though, knowing that they had a long night ahead of them and not wanting to miss the real party or a minute of the little remaining time they had together before going their separate ways.
Gwen noticed Kitty wandering off towards the pavilion, the engineer in her curious as to how the telescoping support poles worked, just as she was, and she realised that it was perhaps her last chance to speak to the American before they left.
She started to follow, but stopped after only a couple of steps and hurried back to the bar. She grabbed half a pint of bitter, downed it in a single long draught, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, took a deep breath and started walking before she thought better of it.
Kitty smiled as Gwen approached, slowly and elegantly unfolding herself from where she had crouched down to peer at the mechanism connected to one of the small steam engines. ‘Hi, Gwen.’
Gwen nodded and returned the smile. ‘Hello.’ She stood by the tall American’s side, her mind racing as she tried to think of something to say. In desperation, she pointed at the growing column. ‘It appears fairly straightforward. Is it?’
‘It is.’
Gwen bent and watched the process, seeing how the shaft from the steam engine turned a bolt on the side of the thick metal disk, which made the dozens of concentric rings of the column rise one by one above their fellows, before locking into place with a loud and solid sounding clunk.
She watched it for a while, trying to gather courage that the alcohol hadn’t been sufficient to give her, then, not nearly ready, but realising that she had to do something before things got truly awkward. She stood and met Kitty’s frank gaze, her cheeks heating at the way the beautiful American’s piercing blue eyes bored into her, as if she knew what was going through Gwen’s mind, which, she mused, was entirely likely.
‘Um... Fancy going for a walk?’
‘I’d love to.’
Kitty’s genuinely pleased smile warmed Gwen and banished all doubts from her that she was doing the right thing. She turned and Kitty fell into step with her as they wandered away from the mansion towards the air base, deserted now except for a few military guards and some of the more dedicated fitters, who were in the hangar, making sure that the Misfit aircraft were ready to fly at dawn the next day.
The walked in silence along the lawn, past the ostentatious marble fountain depicting Poseidon in his chariot, being drawn along by the beasts of the sea, which had built by a Bagshot ancestor with pretensions of being a naval man, and they were almost all the way to the perimeter fence of the base before Gwen worked up the courage to start speaking.
‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘The night of the party on Badger Base, when we got back to the barracks...’
Gwen hesitated, still not sure quite how to ask, but Kitty just laughed.
‘Took you long enough!’
Gwen blinked at her. ‘What? So you do remember kissing me?’
‘Of course! How could I ever forget something like that?’
‘But you were so drunk, I thought...’
Kitty shook her head. ‘I was drunk, yes, but I’m never that drunk.’ She winked. ‘From one scientist to another, let’s say I was carrying out an experiment.’
Gwen frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s entirely ethical.’
Kitty shrugged and gave her a cheeky smile. ‘Maybe that’s something we can debate over a few drinks sometime?’
‘Maybe.’ Gwen smiled. ‘So, what was your grand experiment anyway? You kissed me to see how I would react?’
‘Only in part. I also just really wanted to.’
‘Oh, well, that makes it alright then...’ Gwen laughed.
They reached the end of the long lawn and looked through the chain links of the fence at the hangars where their aircraft waited patiently for them to come and bring them back to life in the air.
Gwen started slightly when she felt Kitty’s arm go around her, but then relaxed, slipping her own arm around the woman and resting her head against her, glad for the comfort and the physical contact that she’d denied herself for so long.
They stood there for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and listening to the distant sounds of the party, floating to them on the light breeze, the laughter of their friends mixing with the music of the band, who were playing a jazz version of one of Elgar’s ever-popular Pomp and Circumstance marches.
Gwen couldn’t believe how comfortable she felt, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to be there, with their arms around each other, but she couldn’t stay like that for too long oth
erwise she might not be able to say what she needed to.
She turned to face Kitty and hesitantly reached up to cup her cheek with her free hand.
At five foot seven, Gwen wasn’t short by any means, but the American was a good four inches taller than her and she saw the big blue eyes widen in surprise as she stood on tiptoes and leaned forwards to kiss her.
She felt Kitty relax with a sigh, her soft lips parting as Gwen pressed forward, but then it was Gwen’s turn to melt when the woman took all control of the kiss away from her, deepening it and pulling the two of them closer together, her strong body pressing against hers, her breath sweet with just a hint of the bourbon she’d been drinking.
All of her concerns, all of her worries faded away as Gwen’s focus centred on woman holding her, the lips pressed against hers, the tongue that flicked maddeningly, teasing her own, and she wished she could stay that way forever, but she forced herself to come back to the world. She gently broke the kiss and took a small step back, pulling out of Kitty’s arms, wincing slightly at her heart-breaking whine of protest.
She reached out to take the woman’s hands. ‘I know I’ve been avoiding you and I’m sorry; it’s because I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m not ready to take this further. But I want you to know that I like you a lot and sometime soon, when I’ve sorted out the mess in my head, I hope we can explore what we mean to each other. Will that be alright?’
‘Well, I’m not going to pretend I wouldn’t like to take you into the trees over there and do a heck of a lot more kissing, but I guess I can wait a bit longer.’
Gwen glanced in the direction of the trees and her mouth went dry as images of what the two of them could get up to in the cool shadows, hidden from view, flashed through her mind. She cleared her throat, then met Kitty’s mischievous, assessing eyes and smiled. ‘Thank you for being so understanding. And while we’re being honest with each other, I must say that I have a few experiments of my own that I’m quite tempted to carry out.’
She laughed at Kitty’s delighted face, then squeezed her hands. ‘Come on, I really need a drink!’
Still laughing, she dragged Kitty back to the party.
The columns holding up the canvas of the pavilion finally reached their full height and the workmen turned off the engines and wheeled them away, leaving only one behind. They then began laying a wooden floor across the whole of the giant space, which snapped together with dovetail joints, much like a jigsaw puzzle, before constructing a small stage at the narrow end of the rectangle furthest from the mansion.
The sun was going down when the pavilion was finally finished, but the Misfits still weren’t allowed into the pavilion, because now it was the turn of the serving staff to begin setting up. The Bagshot Hall kitchen workers had been supplemented by the squadron’s cooks in order to produce enough food for several hundred people, but Lord Bagshot had hired an outside company to provide serving staff so that the Misfits could join in the festivities. Those staff now began setting up, lining the short side of the pavilion nearest the mansion with tables and filling them with the food and drink streaming out of the kitchens.
Finally, everything was ready. The swing band had arrived and were in place on the stage, the food and drink was waiting and the guests had arrived, including notables from Whitehall, dozens of the support staff’s family members, local aristocrats such as Lady Bracknell and Lord Augustus and his new wife, and numerous others who couldn’t possibly have been left off the list.
The only thing left to do before starting the party was for Lord Bagshot to give his welcome speech and the Misfits were herded into position on the lawn in front of the mansion ready for him to appear.
Three people came through the door of the mansion, though, instead of the two that had been expected and a shocked hush spread throughout the entire squadron as Lady Penelope walked out onto the patio, supported between Lord Bagshot and the King.
They watched her stumping, only slightly awkwardly, across the patio until she came to a halt at the top of the three stairs leading down onto the lawn and smiled down at them.
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the silence was broken and replaced by thunderous applause. She laughed, her eyes welling up as the noise washed over her, meeting the eyes of the many people in the crowd who she had gotten to know during her time with the squadron.
The applause went on and on and seemed like it would never stop, the squadron delighted that this woman, one of their beloved pilots, was looking so well after an accident that could easily have killed her, but finally the King held up his free hand for quiet.
He was obeyed almost immediately, and he chuckled. ‘Plenty of time for all that later, some of us are thirsty!’
The Misfits laughed, but only briefly before they turned their attention to Lady Penelope, who gazed down at her friends, valiantly fighting back tears. ‘Thank you, thank you all. I... I had prepared something to say, but I’m afraid you have left me speechless. I...’
Lord Bagshot handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes, before clearing her throat and raising her voice. ‘I do apologise. I don’t actually have much to say, beyond to welcome you all and hope you enjoy yourself this evening. However, His Majesty would like to say a few words before we begin.’ She nodded at the King. ‘Your Majesty.’
The King smiled warmly at her. ‘Thank you, Penny.’
He looked out over the men and women gathered below who stilled completely, waiting for him to speak. ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things have been a little bit quieter over England lately. In a fit of pique, Kaiser Wilhelm has announced to the world that the Kingdom of Britain will be defeated by siege and he’s buggered off to bother someone else, knowing that he can’t defeat us!’
The King’s words engendered rather rude comments, mostly about Kaiser Bill’s parentage, or the rumours that he only had one of a certain unmentionable part of his anatomy instead of a pair. They all knew that the Kaiser was just trying to give an excuse for giving up on the invasion; there was no way the Prussians would ever win like that - the British Isles and the stoic British people could hold out for an extremely long time and were already using the breathing room to consolidate their forces.
The King indulged the jeering for a while, but then held up his hand for quiet again. ‘We’re not safe yet, though, not by a long shot, but the Prussians have made their first great mistake. We will rebuild and rearm and when we are ready, we will take the fight to them and with this squadron leading the way we cannot help but be victorious and crush the threat of tyranny into the dirt once and for all!’
The Misfits broke out into cheering and the swing band struck up the national anthem as the King and Lord Bagshot helped Lady Penelope down the stairs and led the party into the pavilion.
The foreman who had overseen the raising of the pavilion waited until they had taken their first step onto the wooden floor, then flicked a switch on the last remaining engine. Tiny white lights, delicate, cool-burning electrical filaments on fine wires hanging from the roof, sprang into life overhead, creating a soft fairy-tale atmosphere under the pristine canvas.
The national anthem ended, and the band immediately launched into their signature tune “In The Mood” which had the men and women immediately grabbing partners and rushing to fill the dance floor, straight past the King with barely any deference to his rank.
Well and truly started, the party was soon in full swing, but the pilots didn’t join in straight away. Instead, they followed their hosts to the drinks table and surrounded them, demanding explanations with their expectant silence.
The King gave them a grin, then tactfully wandered off to see what the hovering and anxious-looking Marshal of the Court wanted.
Lord Bagshot looked around the semicircle of pilots and laughed. ‘As you can see, my wife and I have been hiding something from you.’
Owen snapped his fingers. ‘Nicholas Park! I knew there was a reason I knew that nam
e! He was the one developing walking tanks like the Prussians have for the army in the warehouse next to mine.’
Lady Penelope nodded. ‘He wasn’t very successful with the tanks, but as you can see, his ideas weren’t all bad.’ She lifted her skirts to reveal gleaming steel ankles and brass shins. ‘At least now I have an excuse if I wear the wrong trousers to a dinner party.’
As one, the pilots leaned forward to get a closer look and Gwen was amused to note that the more interested they were in engineering, the further they bent.
‘I’m not quite as proficient with my new legs as I was with my original ones, but I did promise that one day I would fly again and, thanks to Mr Park, who has designed and built these for me, I am confident that I will very soon.’
‘How do they work?’
This question came from behind the Misfits and they turned as one to find the Princess Elizabeth with a single Royal Guard escort looming behind her. The pilots bowed, but she waved the courtesy away with a smile and stepped forward to join them, showing a composure in the face of such august company well in advance of her years.
‘Well, Your Royal Highness...’
The young girl smiled. ‘I’ve told you Misfits before and the order still stands, it’s Liz. Or Elizabeth, if you must. At least while we are discussing matters scientific.’
Penny returned her smile. ‘As you wish.’ She pulled the skirts higher on her right side to reveal the joints at the knees of the metal leg. It was a gesture that would have scandalised most of the society that she moved in, but none of the pilots batted an eye at it; not only were they used to seeing their friend in a skin tight leather flightsuit, but it wasn’t as if she were revealing her own legs anymore.
The Russian Resistance Page 13