The Spitfire Girls(51)
Ruby circled and prepared for landing, calmly checking her speed and mentally running through what she had to do. There was no room for error, despite the fact that she had no training in using the landing instruments, and she found herself holding her breath as she approached the runway and successfully touched down.
As she finally cut the engine and sat for a moment, Ruby fought the urge to burst out laughing. She’d actually done it! She’d landed the damn thing as perfectly as could be, and she’d had a perfect flight too. Every worry, every little niggle of doubt, had disappeared. She’d been chosen to be the first pilot, to prove what women could do, and she’d jolly well done it!
She started to climb out, smiling to a mechanic wearing overalls who held out a hand. She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out her dark curls and hoping they weren’t too flat.
‘Where’s the pilot?’ he asked, looking concerned as he hurriedly climbed up.
‘Excuse me?’ she said. Surely they’d been told what a big day it was, that she was the first woman to deliver a Halifax? She’d half-expected a line-up of people waiting for her, applauding what she’d just achieved. Did this flight mechanic honestly not know?
‘Where is he? What’s going on?’ He appeared again, head poking out, and then disappeared, presumably to search the cockpit for the mystery pilot. When he re-emerged, the man’s face was a mixture of horror and humour; she couldn’t decide which.
‘I’m the pilot,’ she said, dusting off her flying suit. ‘I don’t dress like this for the fun of it.’
He was holding her cushion, as if perhaps he’d expected to find a six-foot male beneath it. Did he think she’d somehow abducted the true pilot and made away with his Halifax?
‘What’s this then?’
She stifled a laugh. ‘Well, the rudder pedals are a little hard to reach. I used the cushion to give me a bit more height, although the G force made it jolly hard to stay put in the seat at take-off!’
The look he gave was hilarious – as if she was most definitely trying to pull the wool over his eyes. ‘Have you seen the size of this plane? No disrespect, ma’am, but you’re the size of a grasshopper and this is a beast.’
Ruby went to open her mouth when she heard a low whistle and spun around to see a group of pilots gathered behind her. Perhaps the poor mechanic thought one of them was playing a joke on him.
‘This waif of a girl here is trying to tell me she’s the pilot!’ he exclaimed.
‘Do you see anyone else in there?’ she seethed. ‘Feel free to call Captain MacMillan or, actually, I met Churchill himself the other night. You may send him a telegram to confirm my credentials, if you must.’ She glared at him. ‘Why is it that men think a pilot needs to be two hundred pounds or more to handle a big plane?’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he spluttered.
A voice from the group of men made her limbs turn to jelly. ‘Are you calling my fiancée a liar?’
‘Tom?’ she gasped, scanning the pilots’ faces. With all the fuss she’d almost forgotten that he could be standing watching. But there he was: just behind the others.
‘Hello, Ruby,’ he said, shaking his head as he walked forward, a smile faintly playing across his lips.
She moved a few steps closer, studying his face, resisting the urge to run and throw her arms around his neck. She wasn’t going to be that girl, not after all the letters he’d sent insisting she return home and give up on her dreams. She clenched her fingers and considered whether a short, sharp slap across the cheek might be more appropriate.
‘You know her?’ the mechanic asked. ‘This woman who claims to be the pilot?’
‘I’m engaged to be married to her, actually,’ Tom said, his eyes never for a second leaving her face. ‘But for some reason she’s become very independent in my absence and has taken to flying these monstrosities rather than returning home.’
‘You’re my fiancé, not my keeper,’ she said, her heart beating wildly as she remembered exactly why she’d fallen for him in the first place. His eyes were intoxicating, the way they made her feel like she was the only person in the world. The way his lips kicked up at one side in a smile, and the dark mop of hair that he was constantly having to push back from his forehead. And she loved the way he stood, always confident, always commanding. Only now, she wasn’t in awe of that; she admired it still, of course, but right then and there, on the runway with her Halifax at her heel, she knew she could hold her own. The flight had defined her; it had proven to her exactly what she was capable of. It was the first time she’d truly felt the joy of confidence.
‘So we’re equal now, are we?’ he asked, folding his arms.
She mimicked his stance. ‘We are. And while we’re at it, I’m not putting up with your mother trying to tell me what I can and can’t do.’ She chuckled. ‘As for returning home by my deadline? You can forget it.’
The guys nearby, clearly listening to every word, clapped and hooted, and she broke into a smile. It was impossible to keep a straight face, and she was actually pleased there was an audience to help her embarrass Tom.
‘So what exactly do we do about this, er, situation, Ruby?’
‘We behave like equals,’ she said, taking another step closer, and then another, so close to Tom, so impossibly close that she could smell his scent, knew exactly what it would feel like to press hard into him. ‘I expect you to celebrate with the rest of England that your fiancée is the country’s finest female bomber pilot,’ she whispered, just loudly enough for him to hear now. ‘And then I expect a proper bloody welcome.’