The Spitfire Girls(38)
‘If we were trained with instruments and allowed to use our bloody radios in emergencies at least, this sort of thing wouldn’t be happening,’ she said, her cheeks flooding with heat as she stared defiantly at May. ‘You know it and I know it, yet for some reason we’re treated as second-class pilots. Are they waiting for one of us to end up in a coffin? Will protocol change then?’
‘I agree,’ Lizzie echoed. ‘You can bet your bottom dollar that when I’m leading a squadron, I won’t stand for it. It’s ridiculous that we’re treated this way!’
Ruby was shocked that Lizzie had sided with her, but the girls had all swung from horror to annoyance that they weren’t trained with instruments.
May stood immobile. ‘The lack of radio is for our own good and for the safety of everyone, and I’m not going to officially comment on the instrument status, other than to state that, well . . . we’re all experienced pilots, and smart women at that. We all know the difference instruments and a radio would make. But orders are orders, and each and every one of us knows what we signed up for and what the hazards are. Nothing has changed.’
‘What was she flying?’ Lizzie asked.
‘A Spitfire,’ May replied.
‘You know what Suzy used to say about them?’ Lizzie asked, a smile playing across her lips. ‘She’s a lady up in the air and a bloody bitch on the ground.’ Her faux-English accent was worse than terrible, and made everyone laugh.
‘But when she flies, oh baby does she fly!’ Ruby finished for her.
They all laughed again, and when Ruby looked across at May she mouthed, ‘Sorry’ – and meant it. She shouldn’t have stepped out of line and challenged her; as senior commander, May had the authority to reprimand her for disrespecting their rules. She hoped a private apology later would smooth things over.
May addressed them all again. ‘The Anson taxi has arrived, ladies, and you’ll be heading directly to the factory. From there you will transport the new aircrafts to Thorney Island Airfield before returning assorted damaged planes for repair at various airfields. I trust you’ll all use your best judgement on your return flights. Please refer to your chits to see where and what you’re flying. Stay strong, and don’t question your instincts.’
Ruby gathered her tangled knitting from the floor and began to follow the others to the toilet, knowing it could be some time before she’d be able to use one again. Unlike their male counterparts who were able to relieve themselves with their special tubes and pilot their aircraft, women didn’t have the same luxury.
‘Ruby,’ May called. ‘Lizzie, you too.’
Ruby turned and caught Lizzie’s eye as they both walked back to May. There had been some tension between them since the Picture Post article, and Ruby had no idea how to tackle the ever-present rivalry between them; though Lizzie had also been preoccupied with ruffling the feathers of Captain Montgomery, which had helped somewhat.
May regarded them calmly as they reached her.
‘What is it?’ asked Lizzie.
‘Tomorrow is the day,’ May said quietly. ‘The weather isn’t looking ideal, but we’re to decide tomorrow which woman will be taking the first official solo flight in a Halifax.’
Ruby’s stomach felt like it had dropped a hundred feet. Her mouth went dry. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Lizzie echoed.
May nodded. ‘Be prepared – it’s going to be stiff competition and no decision has been made as yet. I’ll most likely be joined by Major Grey, Captain Montgomery and perhaps even MacMillan. The powers that be have a lot riding on a successful first flight, so the more decision-makers we have, the better.’ Ruby was surprised when May gave her a quick hug, and then did the same to Lizzie. ‘You both be careful out there today.’
‘Always,’ Ruby replied, squeezing May’s arm.
Ruby felt a tremor through her body as she followed Lizzie in silence to their ride. Tomorrow she’d know which of them had won, and for the first time she felt a shiver of anticipation that she could actually do it. The title could be hers for the taking, and if she did get it she’d prove to Tom and her demanding future mother-in-law that she was most definitely talented and capable enough to be in the sky.
She hadn’t heard from Tom since her face had been plastered across the Picture Post, and she was terrified by what his mother might have said about it. At least her own mother had loved it, and that was all she was letting herself focus on. The war was bigger than their relationship, what she was doing was bigger than their relationship, so she had to press on regardless and believe that, somehow, it would all work out.
‘I can’t believe it’s tomorrow,’ Lizzie whispered, as Ruby took her seat next to her in the Anson plane.
‘I know.’ She didn’t want to talk about it. Her stomach was doing cartwheels just thinking about it.
‘You know, I have this strange feeling our superiors have already chosen you. In fact, I’ve known it from the moment I saw the Picture Post,’ Lizzie said matter-of-factly. ‘The powers that be know the importance of good propaganda, and choosing the perfect English rose is a logical decision.’
Ruby’s cheeks flamed. Lizzie might be one of the best fliers, but sometimes she was just downright rude! ‘I’ll have you know that I’m a darn good pilot, Lizzie!’ she hissed. ‘How dare you belittle me as if I’m somehow second-grade!’