The Spitfire Girls(28)
She glanced sideways at him, caught his smile as he sat back, ankles crossed, his overalls clean before the day’s work.
Or maybe it’s because something about his easy manner and quick smile, the way he just gets on with things and makes everyone around him happy, reminds me of Johnny. Her darling Johnny who’d been gone almost two long years.
A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and she saw a look pass over Benjamin’s face as she quickly brushed it away, but his smile didn’t falter. That was another thing she liked about him – no woman could see tears and not make a fuss or ask questions.
‘That Halifax, the one that crashed back at White Waltham?’ she said. ‘I keep seeing it. Now that we’re here and my girls are training in them, I keep dreaming about it, only it’s one of them being pulled out, all burnt and charred from the fire.’
Ben didn’t say anything and she was grateful, but he did reach out and touch her hand, his fingers curling over hers.
‘This happening every night?’
She nodded and gulped down more tears. ‘Yes. Every night.’
She didn’t tell him that some nights that pilot was her brother, or that sometimes she saw him before he crashed, staring at her, his face covered in blood, telling her that it was her fault. That if hadn’t been thinking about her, if he’d been able to concentrate, he wouldn’t have lost control and crashed in the first place. She knew it was worse because tomorrow would the anniversary of his death, but she wasn’t about to tell Ben that, either.
‘Did I ever tell you that I have a little sister?’ Ben asked as his fingers left hers.
May took a quick gulp of her tea. ‘No,’ she said, realising how little she actually knew about him. They often sat in silence, or talked about planes or flight conditions; never about his family. Or hers. But today he must have thought she needed distracting.
‘Look at this,’ he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper folded into a small square.
May set her tea down on the concrete and took it, smiling as she carefully unfolded it. Inside was a picture drawn with pencil, of a big plane and a man standing next to it, and a small child standing beside a little house with her mouth drawn in a frown. It was as pretty as it was sad.
‘How old is she?’ May asked.
‘Six,’ he replied, grinning as he took it back from her. ‘There’s four of us. I’m the oldest, and Violet was a bit of a surprise for my parents. She’s the youngest by ten years.’
‘A nice surprise, then,’ May said, imagining Ben as a big-hearted brother. ‘She must miss you.’
‘There was a letter with that picture begging me to go home on leave. She’s not happy that I’ve been away so long, but I keep telling her that we’re fighting to make sure she has a future. So that she can be safe.’
May could see he was missing his sister as much as she was so obviously missing him.
‘We’re all fighting for the same thing, May – to make sure all the Violets in this world don’t have to go through what we’re going through,’ he said gently. ‘I know this is hard on you, but you’re doing something you can be proud of, and whether or not one of your pilots crashes one day? That’s not on your shoulders. You can’t control what happens to them when they’re flying, but you can control how well they’re trained, and I can control whether their planes are in the best shape they can be. All right?’
She nodded, his words sinking in slowly. ‘All right,’ she eventually replied.
‘Now what about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ Ben asked.
She froze then and tried to hide it, awkwardly reaching for her tea and sloshing half of it over. ‘Gosh, look at that, I’d better make another,’ she mumbled, looking at her wristwatch. ‘And time’s run away with me, too.’
Ben stayed still for a moment, looking at her, his deep brown eyes somehow seeing straight through her fa?ade. Usually she was so prepared, quickly deflecting questions about home, but Ben had thrown her off balance.
When he stood, he reached for her mug, his fingers brushing against hers.
‘Are you all right, May?’ he asked, voice so low that it almost broke her, his concern overwhelming and sweet at the same time.
She braved a smile, back straight and chin held high. ‘Of course. I’ll see you on the tarmac.’
May walked away, refusing to think about the chink in her armour that she’d just shown to Ben. Never again, she thought. Because if she started thinking about Johnny, if she admitted how long it had been since she’d even written to her family or that she couldn’t bear to see them, then she’d be no use to anyone, and certainly not the ATA.
‘May!’ Lizzie called out to her, her voice booming from the door of the mess room.
May pulled herself together, wondering if talking to Ben about her family would have been easier than dealing with Lizzie first thing in the morning.
‘How can I help?’ she asked, coming face to face with the immaculately groomed, lipstick-in-place, bright blonde-haired Lizzie Dunlop.
‘I want Montgomery off your service,’ Lizzie demanded, hands on hips. ‘He’s overstepping.’
The door was open and May could see through to the other girls, quietly chatting as the wireless chirped in the background about more American soldiers arriving in Europe, painting their nails, knitting, lounging about with steaming mugs in their hands. She wished she could sail straight past Lizzie and collapse into one of the chairs rather than being the one to deal with every crisis, large or small.