The Spitfire Girls(47)
MacMillan nodded and so did May, and Ruby went to find some water, deciding to have a small glass now. It was always a balancing act, trying to stay hydrated for the flight, but knowing it would be a long time before she could relieve herself.
She heard them talking but tuned it out, not wanting to eavesdrop. She could do this. She touched her chest, feeling the weight of her engagement ring hanging there. There was another reason she wanted to go today – a reason she hadn’t shared with anyone else. Tom might be there. May had whispered to her that it might pan out well; a week earlier, Ruby had heard that he was stationed at Elvington, Yorkshire, but he hadn’t known how long for. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it – but she hadn’t received her ferry chit at that point. Now she realised that if he was still there, if he wasn’t flying, if the stars aligned, perhaps she’d be able to see him. It had been so long – over a year now – since she’d actually held him in her arms and gazed up into those beautiful hazel-brown eyes.
When she shut her eyes she could feel his hands gliding up her arms, she could imagine the softness of his lips as they brushed against hers. And part of her kept thinking that if she could only see him, if he could only see her and how capable she was, then all the animosity over her decision to fly would disappear. But at the same time, she was ready to scream bloody murder at him and tell him to sod off with his mother’s four-week deadline to return home. She had almost reached that deadline now, and she had no intention of packing her bags.
‘Sanders?’
She said a silent prayer before turning back to her superiors.
‘It’s starting to clear.’
Ruby nodded. ‘Wheels-up as soon as we can, sir.’
‘You know, I have every confidence in you,’ MacMillan said, surprising her; his praise was as rare as a rooster that laid eggs. ‘I was in the control tower the day you landed after your first solo training session in a Halifax, and the group captain nearly fell off his chair when he was told a woman was bringing the beast in to land. I think his jaw hit the ground when he watched how well you’d mastered it, although he wasn’t impressed to see a woman land a plane that his men moan about trying to bring down.’
His praise did precisely what he’d no doubt intended. A weight immediately lifted from Ruby’s shoulders and she smiled, knowing how badly he wanted her to succeed. And how much he believed in her.
Much to her amazement, or perhaps because of the constant litany of prayers she was sending skyward, the clouds slowly began to lift. The light patter of rain didn’t disappear, but Ruby wasn’t scared of a little rain.
‘I can do this,’ she whispered under her breath as she strode toward the monstrous plane. She nodded to Ben, pleased that he’d been the one to clear her for take-off.
When she entered the giant aircraft, she groaned and realised she’d forgotten to check there was a cushion for her. She was tiny – it was no great secret that she was technically too small to be flying, given the ATA guidelines – and she had no hope of a successful flight if she was so far from the controls.
‘Excuse me,’ she called out, ‘I need someone to get me a cushion.’
Ben had already disappeared, but Ruby heard the laughter from the ground crew below and tried to stay calm as blood rushed to her face and anger pulsed through every inch of her.
‘Not comfy enough in there for you, luv?’ one of the guys called back.
She took a deep breath and prepared to climb out. ‘I’ll have you know . . .’ she started, then realised it didn’t matter. No one was interested in helping a stupid little woman, and no one was ever going to go back to the mess room for her, even for the first woman to pilot a bomber.
‘Fine, I’ll get one myself!’ she fumed. She could have tried rolling up her jacket or putting her bag behind her, but it was an important flight and she needed to be comfortable and safe. She clambered back out of the cockpit, but as she did so a figure appeared, running along the tarmac.
‘You looking for this?’ Lizzie called out, waving a cushion.
Ruby grinned in relief. ‘How did you know?’
‘I knew those arseholes wouldn’t get it for you,’ responded Lizzie with an almost faultless British twang. ‘And I wanted to wish you luck one last time.’ She gave Ruby
a big, warm hug. ‘You’re going to be amazing, Ruby. I can’t wait to hear all about the first flight.’
‘Thanks, Liz,’ Ruby murmured, hugging her back. Then, with Lizzie’s help, she climbed back up into her seat.
‘Go show them what girls can do!’ Lizzie hollered, then turned to the men gathered around. ‘And next time get the woman a damn cushion when she needs one. You’re acting as if you’ve never seen a woman fly a bomber before!’
With the cushion underneath her and her heart starting to thud, Ruby prepared the plane, flicking switches and checking the controls.
‘Contact!’ she yelled, before turning on the big engine.
The noise of the huge plane rumbled through her. As she taxied down the long runway, she whispered a prayer and felt her heart leap the moment the wheels left the ground. And just like that, she was flying, the first woman ever to ferry a four-engine bomber – a Halifax with a 98-foot wingspan at that!
‘I did it!’ she squealed. ‘I did it,’ she whispered this time, and settled in for the cross-country flight to Yorkshire. She knew her route, had maps to consult as she needed them, and the weather was still clearing. All she had to hope for were no rogue German planes, increasing visibility and a decent landing at the other end – although the Halifax was fully loaded, and she knew exactly which button to push if she needed to unleash her fury on a plane marked with a black swastika on its fuselage.