The Spitfire Girls(84)

She held out her glass for a refill, not ready to say anything yet. His eyes shone as he stared into the distance, but she watched him instead of following his gaze. There was a lovely, very real man beneath his uniform, and she couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to realise it. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders as she watched him.

‘Thank you, for telling me about her,’ she said, shuffling a little closer to him.

‘I wanted you to know. It’s nice to keep her memory alive.’ He reached into the paper bag and pulled out food and plates. ‘Now, tell me about you, Lizzie. What makes Elizabeth Dunlop tick?’

She could sense he didn’t want to talk about Maria anymore, so she took over, filling in the void as he dished up the food. ‘Well, in the beginning, my mother was horrified with me when I first announced my ambitions, but my father always indulged me. I think I was the only girl with a father telling her she could do anything and be anything she wanted to be.’

‘He sounds like a good man.’ He laughed. ‘Although I’ve heard plenty about what a great man he was from my father, so it doesn’t exactly surprise me.’

She smiled as she pictured him, seated beside her in her little plane. ‘Yeah, he is.’ She paused as Jackson watched her, wondering what about him made her feel so vulnerable. She was usually the forward one with men, the one who was first to joke and flirt and have fun. She set down her food and rose to her knees. She was either about to make a horrible mistake, or the best decision of her life.

‘Kiss me,’ she said, bending towards him.

Jackson’s hand lifted and caught the back of her head, drawing her in as her mouth gently brushed his. She slowly moved her lips, drinking in the taste of him, loving the feel of his skin, of their mouths meeting.

When she pulled back, he ran his hand gently down her back.

‘I thought you didn’t like me,’ he whispered.

‘That’s what I thought too,’ she replied. ‘Maybe I won’t like you again tomorrow, but I very much like you right now.’

They both laughed and went back to eating their food, occasionally making eye contact and sitting in companionable silence.

Then Jackson stood. ‘Come with me,’ he said, and led her by the hand to the water’s edge. They stood and stared at the water, and Jackson slowly moved around behind her, encircling her in his arms. She leaned back against him, not entirely sure what they were doing but not caring. It felt nice, being in his big, strong arms, imagining what it would feel like to spin in his embrace and kiss him again.

‘The others come here all the time on Sundays,’ he said, his voice low as he spoke into her ear. ‘When the weather was warmer they swam and sunbathed, but I think they just enjoy walking or having a picnic on sunny days.’

‘They don’t have to work like we do,’ she groaned.

‘Promise me we’ll come here again. We deserve to have some playtime, too. I’m tired of being the workaholic who never takes leave.’

Lizzie did spin in his arms then, turning slowly and linking her hands behind his neck. ‘Forgive me if I’m a total cow to you tomorrow. It’s not in my nature to ever say yes, sir to a man.’

His laughter was deep and throaty. ‘I don’t ever, ever expect you to say yes, sir to me, Lizzie. I’d think you were unwell if you didn’t argue with me every step of the way.’

She leaned into him, indulging in him one last time before clasping her fingers around his. Then they went back to their picnic and collected their things; he bundled the blanket under his arm and gathered everything else into the large paper bags, while Lizzie picked up the champagne bottle and glasses.

It was funny how things could change, although she expected that once they were back in their usual roles, on base again, he’d return to scowling at her and she’d be calling him out over every order and fuming at his superiority.

She smiled to herself as he opened the door for her. Or maybe she’d act like a grown-up and stop giving the poor man such a hard time.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ENGLAND, CHRISTMAS 1942

MAY

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ Ben said, sitting down in the chair on the other side of her desk.

May looked up, papers spread around her, her head a jumble of thoughts. She’d been working long hours and staying clear of Ben, hiding from him and her grief at the same time, but seeing him now, it hurt. She’d missed him so much and all she wanted to do was collapse into his arms and let him pick up the pieces. But she couldn’t.

‘Sorry, I’ve had so much to do and . . .’

‘I’m not one of your pilots, May,’ he said, shuffling the chair closer. ‘I can see your lies a mile off.’

She was about to tell him she wasn’t lying, but his look told her he wouldn’t believe her for a second.

‘I thought you were going home for Christmas?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you need to leave soon?’

‘I am and I do,’ he said. ‘So unless you want me to disappoint my little sister, you’d better hurry and get your bag packed.’

She stared back at him. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. You’re coming with me. And before you tell me you don’t have leave, it’s already arranged. Captain MacMillan agrees that you need time off after what happened, and my family would love you to join us.’