The Spitfire Girls(61)
‘To start with she was like an exotic creature, completely foreign in every way, but in the end she was just like us,’ May replied.
‘Just like us?’ Ruby queried. ‘Well, I don’t know if either of us is as glamorous or outspoken.’
‘Speak for yourself!’ May grinned, and Ruby laughed, enjoying how much more jovial May had been lately.
She thought back to all the times they’d shared with Lizzie. She was a real character – she’d helped to liven things up and she’d been a heck of a pilot. Perhaps that was why Ruby had been so determined to fly the Halifax: without the competition, perhaps she never would have pushed herself so hard to succeed. If women were going to keep making a difference, maybe they had to be forced to see how capable they were.
‘Do you think she’s seen her father yet?’ Ruby asked. ‘It must have been hard for her being so far away, and she always spoke fondly of him.’
May shook her head. ‘I haven’t had word from her.’
She stood as someone called her over, and Ruby waited to hear the news. May was soon back, a nervous flicker crossing her face that made Ruby wonder what they were in for.
‘Ladies, we’ll be wheels-up within the next half-hour, so I suggest you use the toilet and do anything else you need to do.’ She paused. ‘We’re all travelling to Colerne, as you know, to ferry the new Spitfires. They need to get there yesterday, to be frank, because they’ll be sailing on the USS Wasp to Malta as soon as can be.’
‘How many of them?’ Ruby asked.
‘Forty-seven in total, but not all from here,’ May replied. ‘Any questions, come and see me, otherwise prepare yourselves for a fast flight, ladies. Getting these planes to Malta could change the course of the war, and this is a Priority 1 Wait if we can’t all take off on schedule. These planes will be delivered today.’
Ruby had listened to the wireless and talked it through with her host, Mr Robinson, the night before. Securing Malta was critical to British control of the Mediterranean. Without these Spitfires? They’d be bombed to oblivion. The last thing they needed was for Malta to fall, which was why Roosevelt had loaned the British an aircraft carrier, the USS Wasp, for the single trip to get the planes where they needed to go. It was all hands on deck, and everyone was relying on them to get the Spitfires to Colerne.
‘I want you first up behind me, Ruby. Let’s go.’
‘You’d better watch out – I wobble all over the place when I’m putting my lipstick on before landing,’ Ruby joked.
Ruby loved the Spitfires – they were the aircraft she’d miss most when the war ended; if it ever ended. The big bombers were amazing, especially the Halifax, which was so enormous it had room for a crew of six, but she felt most alive, most in charge, flying the smaller, more elegant Spitfire.
She paused as May spoke to Benjamin, grinning as she watched Ben pull May close for a second before she quickly walked away.
‘I thought you said you didn’t have a sweetheart?’ she teased.
‘I didn’t and I don’t,’ May said, her cheeks a little red. ‘Now focus on flying, would you?’
‘Ben and May: it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘Shoo,’ May scolded. ‘I’m your commander and I insist you go to your plane!’
Ruby blew her a kiss and jogged to her aircraft, still laughing. Good old Lizzie, for spotting what was going on!
Surprisingly the weather was clear enough, with only small pockets of cloud cover, and soon she was sitting in the cockpit, rubbing her hands together to warm them.
‘Contact!’ she yelled, before switching on the magnetos and starting up the engine, the propellers pulling through and kick-starting it to life.
After wrestling the little beast of a plane into the air, it was smooth sailing. She’d followed May up, and she was flying just behind her, keeping an eye on her tail and scanning constantly around her. For weeks she’d had this sinking feeling, a recurring nightmare: she was flying through cloud cover only to happen upon a plane flying towards her with a huge black cross on the fuselage and a swastika on its tail. Today that feeling was thrumming through her tenfold. There were so many of them in the air that they made an excellent target; what if the Germans took out a handful of female ATAs? She shuddered. It wasn’t worth thinking about.
And she had something else to be mindful of. She thought of the warmth within her, wondering if she was right. She’d missed her monthly cycle, and after that magical night with Tom she was almost certain she was pregnant. The very idea should have alarmed her when they weren’t even married, but she loved her Tom and she had no doubt he loved her just as much. Only she wasn’t telling him or anyone her news, not until she had to. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to stop flying, not when she was one of only three British women to get their Class V conversion. Pregnant or not, she wasn’t about to give up flying bombers, or any kind of plane that might be needed – not when she finally believed that she was capable of doing it.
Tom. Just thinking about him made her smile. After so long, she’d almost convinced herself that he would be a let-down when she was finally with him again, if they even got that far. But the look on his face, the genuine joy she’d seen when he’d watched her take off her helmet beside the Halifax and insist she was the pilot, had told her everything she’d needed to know. All the doubts she’d been having, all the anger she’d felt over his letters, had disappeared when they’d finally laid eyes on one another again.