The Spitfire Girls(36)
‘There was another reason I was late tonight,’ she said, as Danny reached for the paper. ‘I wanted to be the one to show it to you so it didn’t come as a surprise, and I was waiting to receive a copy.’
‘Oh my Lord, it’s me!’ Ruby squealed and leapt off her chair, snatching the paper from Danny and waving it at them all.
Lizzie swallowed, forcing a smile as she digested the picture splashed across the front page of the Picture Post. Ruby was smiling as she ran her fingers through her long dark hair, dressed in her flying suit and striding away from her plane. A bomber. A huge bomber. As if she were a world-class movie star staring down the lens of the camera. And just like that, all thoughts she’d had about being friends with the other girls disappeared, and instead her desire to be the first female pilot in a Halifax lit up again, like a flame. She wasn’t going to admit to her father that a woman with half the flying hours could beat her. Failure was not in her vocabulary, and it should have been her on the cover!
But it was the headline that riled her the most. She would have done anything to send a cutting like that to her daddy!
Beauty and the Bomber. Will this pin-up pilot be the first to fly a big-boy bomber over London?
‘I thought you’d want to see it,’ May said, one hand on Ruby’s shoulder. ‘You should be proud that they put this on the front cover. It’s validation for all of us.’
Lizzie sucked up her pride and kept her smile firmly in place, not about to let on that it had rattled her to see that image of Ruby’s beautiful face. Why was she jealous? This stupid picture didn’t mean anything. But she knew it wasn’t her beauty that bothered her; it was that Ruby had been publicly earmarked by the papers as the first female to ferry a four-engine bomber, and it was an accolade that she’d wanted to secure ahead of every other woman she trained with. She wanted to be the one recognised by everyone, on both sides of the pond, as the best female flier to ever pilot a bomber, and she wasn’t going to let this stop her from getting there.
‘Congratulations,’ she said through gritted teeth, trying to sound warm. ‘It’s a gorgeous picture.’
Ruby passed the paper back to May. ‘The picture looks all glamorous, but I’m not going to be the one flying the first bomber and we both know it.’
Lizzie shrugged and held up her glass, looking at the men, who were all standing with their mouths hanging open. She knew it wasn’t sporting to think so, but the more Ruby doubted herself, the more chance she had of beating her.
‘Sorry, that’s you in the picture, right?’ Danny asked. ‘The, ah, pilot?’
‘Of course it’s her, you idiot,’ James cursed, cuffing him around the ears.
‘Senior Commander May Jones,’ May said, sitting back in her chair. ‘And these three women here happen to be among my most talented pilots. First Officer Lizzie Dunlop,’ she indicated, ‘and First Officer Ruby Sanders, from Ferry Pool No. 15 at Hamble, as well as our very talented Executive Officer Polly Simmons, who is based at White Waltham.’
Patrick’s gulp was visible. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’
‘At ease, my boy,’ May said. ‘Now, how about you tell us more about these extraordinary big planes you’re in charge of?’
All three men went beetroot red, their cheeks on fire as first Danny stumbled a few steps back, followed by the others. They muttered their excuses and headed for the bar.
May and Polly laughed and so did Lizzie, but Ruby was staring at the paper again, clearly in shock.
‘Put that rag away and let’s go,’ said Lizzie abruptly, not wanting to even glimpse the headline again.
May gave her a sharp look, but Lizzie ignored her, not about to be drawn in to any conversation about who would or wouldn’t be flying the first bomber. She had something to prove, both here and at home, and if the decision hadn’t been made yet, then she still had time when they got back to Hamble – front page news or not.
‘Where are we going?’ Ruby asked, appearing more sober now.
‘To Hyde Park to dance,’ Lizzie said, finishing her drink and putting her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’ve heard the Lansdowne is the place for great music. And in the morning, before we leave, we’re going to the Red Cross Club for the best darn milkshakes around.’
Ruby shook her head. ‘How about something to eat here and then I can sneak off to bed?’
Lizzie glared at her. ‘Not a chance. This is our one night of fun and I’m not letting you sleep through it.’
‘I second that!’ Polly said.
Ruby groaned, but held up her hands in defeat. ‘Fine, but at least let me go to the toilet before you drag me all over London.’
Polly went with her, and the moment they disappeared May touched Lizzie’s arm.
‘I didn’t mean the article to upset you,’ she said. ‘But I thought it was better for you to see it now, rather than splashed across all the papers in the morning.’
Lizzie shrugged and waved her hand as if it were the least of her worries. ‘I’m happy for her, truly,’ she said, lying through her teeth. ‘She’s a great girl and she’s a talented flier.’
‘But you still think you’re better,’ May said quietly, her words a statement rather than a question.
‘I know you Brits don’t like bragging, but, yes, I do think I’m better than her. I thought that much was obvious?’ She furiously blinked as tears pricked her eyes; she mustn’t let anyone see how upset she was. ‘I’m going to win, no matter what some stupid paper says.’