The Spitfire Girls(85)
Her face flushed and she shook her head. ‘No, absolutely not. And how dare you go behind my back and—’
Ben rose, palms planted on her desk. ‘Don’t you dare pull rank with me or order me around,’ he said. ‘Polly died on your watch, May, and it wasn’t fair, but it also wasn’t your fault. Now get your things together, and I’ll either take you home to your family, or home with me to mine. Your choice.’
No. There was no way she could go home, to her mother waiting for her, to her father’s sad gaze as he contemplated Christmas without his son. She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ she asked, fighting tears.
Ben came around to her, dropping to his knees beside her chair and looking straight into her eyes, his fingers curling beneath her chin. ‘Because I love you, May,’ he whispered. ‘And because you’re hurting. You need someone to look after you.’
May crumbled then, the fa?ade she’d been so carefully holding in place falling away. She clung on to Ben, sobbing, wishing that she were stronger, that she could have pushed him away, but she couldn’t. She was broken and he could see it.
‘You’re certain I can come?’ she asked, suddenly not wanting to be left alone.
‘I am,’ he said, dropping a kiss on her hair. ‘Tidy up whatever you’re working on, and we’ll leave in an hour.’
He left her to it, and May sat, dead still, trying to breathe. And when the door shut behind him, she slowly reached for her top right drawer, pulling it open. She placed a hand inside, touching the unopened letters from her mother, imagining what they said, knowing how badly her mother must be missing her and how cruel she’d been to block her out for so long.
May took the top one from the pile and stared at her mother’s familiar handwriting, the deep curve of the letters taking her back to when she’d sat beside her at her desk, years ago, trying desperately to make her writing look as elegant.
I wish I could come home, she sobbed silently, bravely sliding her nail along the seal and taking the letter out, reading her mother’s words for the first time in more than a year.
Darling May,
Father and I are so proud of you. It would have been Johnny’s birthday today, and not a day goes by that we don’t miss him. Please, come home. We need to see you, we need to know that you don’t somehow blame yourself.
We love you, May.
She threw the letter back in the drawer and slammed it shut, sliding her hand in an angry sweep across her desk and sending her paperwork flying. Why? Why did she have to lose Johnny? Why did she have to lose Polly? Why had they both been taken, and for what?
May wiped her eyes and stood, running from her desk and heading for her quarters to get her things. Ben was right, she needed to get away, and she needed him to look after her.
‘Ben!’ she screamed, frantically searching for him. ‘Ben!’
There was hardly anyone left on base; some women were flying, some were home on leave, and others were already at their billeted homes.
Her head felt ready to explode as arms finally encircled her, holding her tight. Ben eased her around to face him, never letting her go, and she cried against him, soaking his jacket.
‘Take me home with you,’ she sobbed. ‘Please, just get me out of here.’
Ben’s arm scooped her close, holding her upright as he walked her away. Away from the one place where she’d thought she could hide from her pain.
May sat at the table hours later, her face freshly scrubbed and her hair washed. Ben’s mother had taken one look at her and shooed her upstairs to their little bathroom, washing her hair for her over the basin, laying fresh clothes out on a little bed in the attic and telling her to take a nice long nap before supper. The combination of sleep and feeling so clean, with the smell of lavender in her hair, was exactly what she’d needed.
Ben smiled at her as his mother ladled food onto their plates. He’d known to bring her home, known that it would pull her back from the darkness, and he’d been right. Since Polly’s death, she’d spent her days arguing with anyone who’d listen about their lack of control in the air, the fact that their pilots should be trained with instruments and be able to use radios in emergencies, but it had fallen on deaf ears and left her even more disillusioned, more heartbroken, with each passing hour.
‘Does she actually fly the planes, not just work on the engines?’
May grinned as Ben’s littlest sister appeared at the table, her hair pulled up into two pigtails, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose; she was as cute as a button.
‘That’s right,’ May said, gesturing her to come sit beside her.
‘You don’t have to indulge her,’ Ben’s mother said. ‘My other girls would never have asked so many questions when they were her age.’
From the way she had treated May, taking her into her arms and knowing exactly what she needed, it was obvious she was the mother of daughters, and May had all the time in the world for her little girl.
‘Your brother does all the work to make sure the planes are safe and running properly, and then I fly them to where they need to go. We make a good team.’
Violet looked confused. ‘But you’re a girl.’
May laughed. ‘I am. Girls can do anything, you know. Even fly huge warplanes.’
May thanked Ben’s mother for a beautiful meal, then they all joined hands as they bent their heads in prayer. Violet’s hand was tiny and warm in May’s, and she sighed as she inhaled the smell of chicken and vegetables in front of her.