The Spitfire Girls(37)

May’s brows shot up. ‘Stop calling us you Brits. It’s getting on my nerves and you’re as good as one of us now. That’s what this whole night was supposed to be about,’ she snapped. ‘And this isn’t a race between anyone, Lizzie. The first woman chosen will be representing all the women of the ATA, to show what we’re capable of, to pave the way for all the rest of us. It’s not about one woman winning, it’s about the right woman taking the lead on the first flight, and the only reason I have you training against one another is to push you both to be the best pilots you can be.’

Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t have an American take the honours of first flight, can you? Am I even in the running? Or do you already have this whole thing stitched up while pretending it’s an even contest?’

May looked fierce, and folded her arms across her chest. ‘The first woman pilot to take command of a four-engine bomber will be chosen on merit, not nationality, and that decision will be made by myself and at least two of my superiors,’ she said firmly. ‘And Lizzie, you are a better pilot under normal circumstances and in a lighter aircraft, but in a big bomber? You and Ruby are neck and neck. You’ve logged the same number of training hours, and the only difference right now is that you’re more confident than her.’

‘Neck and neck about what?’ Ruby asked, from behind them.

Lizzie spun around. ‘Nothing. Now let’s get out of here.’

‘I can’t believe you’re taking me out dancing,’ Ruby murmured as they moved through the crowd of beautifully dressed men and women.

‘Well, believe it,’ Lizzie said, wishing she was in the air proving May wrong rather than walking arm in arm with her British friends towards the door. ‘This is going to be a night to remember.’

But just as they stepped outside, the unmistakable noise of the air raid siren cut through the air.

‘Oh, sod off, Wailing Willy!’ Lizzie muttered. ‘My one night. My one night away from base!’

Ruby sighed as people around them began to hurry for shelter. ‘Looks like I’m heading for my nice hotel bed after all.’





CHAPTER EIGHT

HAMBLE AIRFIELD, HAMPSHIRE,

JUNE 1942

RUBY

Ruby looked up when she heard the click of heels across the concrete floor. She’d been knitting, something she had never been good at and didn’t seem to be getting any better at, but it was an easy way to pass the time as she listened to the wireless and tried not to worry about what was happening at the front or whether her engagement was over. In light of everything that was happening to their country, it seemed so stupid that she and Tom were at odds, that they were arguing about anything at all. But it had certainly been heartening to hear that the Allies were successfully bombing parts of industrial Germany; it gave her hope that they were making progress, and it wasn’t all for nothing.

It was May crossing the room, wearing a grim expression as she marched towards the flight board, which told Ruby exactly what was about to happen. She’d barely seen her commander since they’d returned from their night at the Savoy; they’d been ferrying multiple planes on every shift. The other women were lounging at tables, chatting and knitting too, with Lizzie reading rather than taking up the ‘sock-knitting for soldiers’ crusade the rest of them were on, but they all stopped what they were doing now.

Who was missing? Who hadn’t returned? May strode past them all without so much as a good morning. Did it mean they’d lost someone? Had they had their first fatality?

Lizzie caught her eye, looking serious for once, and Ruby gulped as May stopped, reached for a cloth and rubbed out a name from the board. When she turned to face them, tears shone in her eyes, but she never said a word; just stood there, silent, as they all watched her.

Ruby had heard that if anyone died, if they didn’t return, their name would simply be erased from the board as though it had never existed, and she was afraid that it would be one of the girls she’d made friends with.

‘Susan?’ one of the other pilots gasped.

Ruby dropped her knitting and reached for Betty’s hand, holding it tight as tears ran silently down the other woman’s cheeks. A sob lodged in her own throat, but she stifled it, checking her emotion.

‘How?’ Lizzie asked, her voice like a rasp.

‘Girls, let me make it clear that Susan isn’t dead, but she won’t be rejoining us. She parachuted out in bad visibility to avoid going down with her plane,’ May responded, her reply sounding rehearsed and wooden. ‘Polly was flying the same course and has reported that the cloud cover was like a thick blanket, so she trusted her gut and dropped down to 600 feet. She was able to land, but Suzy followed protocol and stayed high, electing to parachute out when things went bad.’ May smiled tightly. ‘Somehow she ended up miles off course over the Thames Estuary, and an extremely gallant officer leapt from a nearby naval vessel and dived in to search for her. She was rescued and hauled onto the boat, before being taken to the closest hospital, where she’s suffering from hypothermia and damage to her lungs. We’re told she should make a full recovery, but she’ll be returning home to recuperate following her discharge.’

Relief washed over Ruby, but it was quickly replaced with anger. Susan could easily have been their first fatality, and it was only luck that it had been a near miss. She hated that all they had up there in the sky were their instincts!