A Flight of Golden Wings (8 page)

‘Bet we could even manage the big four-engine planes, as well.’

‘That’s a bit optimistic, Gussie.’ Ruth smiled at her friend’s excitement. ‘That’s something the men will never let us do.’

Gussie’s mouth set in a determined line. ‘That day will come, you’ll see. And you’ll be one of the first to be given the chance, so don’t you break anything, or they’ll think again. There will be a huge responsibility on the first girls.’

‘I agree, but you’re wrong about me. There are plenty who are more experienced pilots.’

‘More experienced, yes –’ Tricia nodded, ‘– but not many are better pilots. Simon says so, and he’s very proud of you—’

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when Don draped his arms around Ruth’s and Gussie’s shoulders. ‘Hey, what’s all this? You all look so serious. I thought we’d come to dance and have fun?’

Ruth turned and found herself face to face with Jack Nelson. It felt as if a jolt of electricity had shot through her. She hadn’t really looked at him before; she had been too upset. He had hair the colour of wet sand and his eyes were a startling navy blue. She tore her gaze away from him as Don introduced another man.

‘This is Rob. He was one of the first of us to come here, and is an old flying buddy of Jack’s. He’s an instructor for the ATA.’

They all shook hands, and Ruth liked him instantly. He was older – in his early forties, she guessed. His dark hair was peppered with grey at the temples, and he had the same quiet air about him as Simon. An ideal temperament for an instructor.

‘How did that happen?’ he asked Ruth, noting her wet, stained dress.

Jack held up his hands. ‘My fault, I’m afraid, and I don’t think she will ever forgive me. But I can understand that. If I’d ruined one of my sister’s frocks, she would have my hide.’

Rob gave a deep, rumbling laugh. ‘She sure would. Jack and Lucy fly like angels and fight like demons.’

‘Your sister’s a pilot?’ Gussie asked.

‘Yeah, we were in a flying circus together. She’s good, but likes to be in control.’ Jack then told them about the time he’d persuaded her to wing walk for him, and had them all laughing at his vivid description.

‘Even I wouldn’t do that.’ Gussie actually shuddered.

While they were all discussing the horrors of performing such a stunt, Ruth noticed that Jack had his gaze fixed on
her. She spoke softly, for his ears only. ‘I’m sorry I was rude. It
was
an accident.’

He inclined his head. ‘Thanks, and I’m real sorry. I promise you that when this war is over I’ll take you to Paris and buy you another dress.’

She was pleased by the flamboyant offer. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

‘That’s a date, then.’

Her attention was caught by Rob. ‘Will you dance with me, Ruth?’

‘I’d love to, but I smell like a brewery.’

‘My favourite perfume.’ He held out his hand and led her on to the dance floor.

From then on the evening flew by. She danced with Jack twice and found that they got on well together, although there was a certain tension between them. She put this down to their unfortunate first meeting. Which was a shame, Ruth thought, for he seemed a pleasant man, but the fact that she had to spend the entire evening in a ruined dress made it hard to forget the incident. As the pale cream silk dried, the stain from shoulder to hem was even more visible. But the damage was done, so she ignored it and settled down to enjoy the evening. Jack had claimed the last dance and asked her if she would write to his sister. She had taken the address and promised she would.

‘There are two letters from Jack,’ Lucy called to her mother as she rushed into the house. ‘One for each of us.’

Mother and daughter eagerly ripped open the envelopes and sat in silence as they read.

‘Well –’ Bet looked up ‘– he seems to be enjoying himself.’

‘Yeah,’ Lucy agreed. Hers was a chatty letter, which didn’t say much about the work he was doing, but perhaps they weren’t allowed to. She shuffled through the rest of the mail and stopped when she came across another letter addressed to her bearing an English stamp.

‘What’s that?’ Bet peered over her daughter’s shoulder. ‘That isn’t Jack’s writing.’

‘No.’ Lucy opened it and began to read, her excitement mounting. Then she screamed with laughter.

‘What is it? Who’s it from?’

‘A girl by the name of Ruth. She’s one of the ATA pilots and Jack has asked her to write to me.’ She picked up her
brother’s letter and kissed it. ‘Thank you, big brother.’

‘That’s nice, but what’s making you laugh so much?’

Lucy then explained about Ruth’s first meeting with Jack. ‘Ruth says she gave him a hard time.’

‘Good on her.’ Bet nodded approval. ‘I like the sound of her.’

‘Me too, and if she put Jack in his place when she met him, then she’s got guts.’

‘She must have forgiven him if she has written to you.’

Lucy gurgled. ‘Have you ever known anyone stay mad at Jack for long? He must have liked her, though, if he asked her to write to me.’

‘Perhaps she reminds him of you.’

‘If she gave him a hard time then she probably does.’ Lucy found paper and pen, and then settled at the table. ‘Gosh, it was kind of her to write. I must answer straight away.’

Bet sat beside her daughter and watched her excitement with a touch of sadness in her eyes. ‘You want to go, don’t you?’

Lucy glanced up, put down her pen and nodded, her expression wistful. ‘I want to go so much it hurts. I want to join the women who are doing such a vital job. And with Jack not here I feel as if part of me is missing.’

Leaning forward, Bet patted her daughter’s hand. ‘Then you’d better find out if you can go to England.’

‘Oh, Mom!’ Lucy’s eyes were moist. Their mother was the most unselfish person she knew. ‘If I do that you’ll be on your own.’

‘Hey, I’m not in my dotage, and I’ve got lots of friends.’ Bet stood up. ‘Go to it, my girl. Ask Ruth; she’ll know what your chances are. And, from the sound of it, your brother needs someone to keep an eye on him, though this girl Ruth
seems as if she’s quite up to the job.’ She started to walk away, then turned back. ‘Christmas is only four weeks away. Hope Jack won’t be spending it on his own. We’d better see about sending him a food parcel. If we do it straight away, it might get there in time.’

‘Good idea, Mom. I’ll send Ruth one as well. And don’t worry about Jack; he’ll have lots of people to celebrate with. He isn’t the only American there.’

‘I know, but it won’t be like family, will it?’

Lucy watched her mother leave the room. This was hard on her – on both of them – but there would be thousands without their families around them this festive season. Knowing she was going to miss her brother like mad this year, Lucy settled down to write a long letter to him, and another to Ruth.

‘Haven’t you finished yet?’ Bet asked, making Lucy jump.

Glancing at the clock Lucy was surprised to see that she had been writing for nearly two hours. The bulky letters had to be folded carefully to make them fit in the envelopes. ‘I’ll go and post these. Have you got any?’

‘Yes, I’ll come with you and we’ll go to the market to find things we can send to England.’

The day was clear and cold, perfect for flying. Jack whistled softly, always content when he was in the air. But he had to remain vigilant because he was delivering an unarmed Hurricane to Henlow, and he didn’t want to bump into any stray Germans. That had happened to him once, but there had been plenty of cloud cover for him to hide in that day.
Not today, though. After he delivered this plane he had to get back to the factory airfield near Hatfield and collect a Spitfire. Boy, would he like to see what they could do, but they had strict instructions not to indulge in aerobatics. Their job was to fly straight and see that the planes were delivered without damage. He often watched the RAF pilots toss their planes around in the air, and longed to be up there with them, but they were doing their job – and a damned good one – and he was doing his, and loving it. He yearned for home at times – that was only natural – but he was so pleased he’d come to England. He was doing something worthwhile, and he couldn’t remember when he’d been so happy.

After landing at Henlow and checking in, Jack was given another chitty with instructions to take a Hurricane to Luton. This was how it went most of the time. There were a lot of planes to be shifted, and the workload increased when the weather was good. When the weather turned nasty, flying was out of the question and the planes piled up. The manufacturers didn’t like this and wanted everything moved as quickly as possible in case of raids.

When he arrived at Luton, Jack was pleased to see Simon there with the Anson.

‘Hello, Jack. Where are you off to next?’

‘The factory airfield at Hatfield. Any chance of a lift?’

‘I’m taking pilots back to White Waltham, but I can go there after I’ve dropped them off. There are three here now, and another two to collect at Brooklands.’

‘That’s great. It will save me time. I’ve got to collect a Spitfire for delivery to Prestwick and I’d like to complete the delivery today.’

Simon glanced at his watch. ‘How long since you’ve had anything to eat?’

‘Nothing since breakfast at six this morning.’ The mention of food made Jack realise just how hungry he was.

Simon shook his head. ‘I know we’re hellishly busy, Jack, but you must eat. Let’s go and see what they’ve got in the Mess for lunch.’

The other pilots were already eating when they got there, so they collected their meals and sat with them. Jack knew one, Stan, but he’d never met the others. One was English, Charles, and the other a Canadian by the name of Ed. After the introductions, Jack started on his meal. It was a pie made mostly with vegetables, but he was too hungry to bother what it was. Rationing was tough and you were grateful for a hot meal at any time.

‘How are you adapting to the food here?’ Simon asked.

‘OK. It isn’t very interesting, but I get so hungry it doesn’t worry me.’ Jack sighed, his mind going back to his mother’s laden table. ‘I must admit that I’d love a large steak sometimes.’

‘Wouldn’t we all!’ Ed cleared his plate and sat back. ‘But you must admit that the cooks do a bloody good job with what they’ve got.’

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Simon drank the last of his tea and stood up. ‘We’d better get going. Jack wants to get on his way to Prestwick.’

The Anson was refuelled and ready for them, and they were soon in the air again. Jack was content to relax and watch Simon at the controls. They used the most reliable pilots for the taxi work. The last thing they wanted was an
accident with a plane filled with experienced pilots. As soon as they landed at Brooklands and drew to a halt, two pilots clambered in, and they were on their way once again. Jack never ceased to marvel at the efficiency of the organisation. The number of aircraft being shifted was phenomenal. The setting up of the Air Transport Auxiliary, using civilians with private pilot licences, had been a stroke of genius. As fast as the factories built the planes, they were collected and delivered to operational units all over the country. They were all so busy that it was clear that more pilots were needed.

The weather was still holding fair when they reached White Waltham. This was Jack’s home base, but with the next delivery he might not be back tonight. Everything depended on the weather. He hoped he could get a lift back and wouldn’t have to endure the discomfort of a train journey.

‘Let’s grab a cup of tea first, Jack.’ Simon was striding towards the hut. ‘Then I’ll take you to your pick-up point.’

Jack suppressed a grin of amusement. There was always tea available wherever they went, and to tell the truth, he was getting as bad as the English. He was developing quite a taste for the stuff. Don still needed his coffee and had taken to drinking Camp Coffee in desperation. It was a brown liquid from a bottle, and Jack had tried it once. That had been enough! He would rather have tea.

Simon handed him a mug of steaming brew, and he asked, ‘Have you seen Ruth lately?’

‘Not since the dance. I saw Tricia the other day, and they are as busy as us, but I expect we’ll bump into them some time.’

Jack grimaced. ‘Don’t use that word, Simon. I wonder if she managed to clean the dress.’

‘No idea, but they’ll do something with it. We all try not to waste anything, knowing most of our supplies have to come by sea. The motto is “make do and mend”. Now, we’d better get a move on.’

Once at the factory airfield, Jack collected the delivery chitty and the plane. Wasting no time, he took off. With luck he could get there before nightfall.

With a following wind he was making good time and got as far as Speke before an ominous clunk from the engine forced him to land. He was given a bed for the night in the officers’ quarters and retired early, determined to continue his journey at first light. Knowing the mechanics would be working on the plane to get it repaired by morning, he slept as soon as his head touched the pillow.

‘Sir, wake up!’

Jack opened his eyes and saw a sergeant standing beside the bed with a mug in his hand. He took the tea and drank thirstily. The blackout shutters were still in place and the room was lit with only a low wattage bulb. ‘What time is it? Have I overslept?’

‘It’s six o’clock, sir. There’s a phone call for you.’

‘Who the hell’s phoning at this hour? It isn’t even light yet!’

‘It’s your HQ, and they said it was urgent that they contact you before you left this morning.’

He was immediately out of bed and pulling on his clothes.

It must be something out of the ordinary for them to call him so early. The sergeant took him to an operations room where he was handed a phone. ‘Nelson,’ he said briskly.

‘Jack …’ Rob hesitated. ‘Sorry about the early call but
I wanted to tell you this myself, and I knew you’d be on your way at dawn. There’s been an accident. Late yesterday afternoon Don took off from Weston-super-Mare when his engine caught fire. An eyewitness said he was too low to bail out and it looked as if he was heading out to sea. The RAF Sea Rescue searched while there was still enough light and then gave up. They’ll try again this morning.’

Jack took a deep breath. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Rob.’

‘Phone me when you reach Prestwick and I’ll let you know if he’s been found.’

‘Right, I’ll do that. Oh, and Rob, when we were on the ship coming over, Don told me he couldn’t swim.’

‘Damn!’ was Rob’s only comment before he put down the phone.

‘Bad news, sir?’ The sergeant was studying him with curiosity.

Jack nodded. ‘There’s been an accident and the man I came over here with is missing.’

‘Is he in the drink, sir?’

‘What?’

‘Ain’t you never heard that expression before? I don’t suppose you would have, you being Canadian. It means has he gone down in the sea?’

‘Oh, yes, they think he might have.’ The corners of Jack’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. He was always being taken for a Canadian. ‘And I’m American.’

‘Really?’ The sergeant frowned. ‘That’s right. I did hear that some of you had come over.’

‘There are quite a few of us now. We have private pilot licenses and the ATA need all the help they can get, so here we are.’

‘And right good of you too, sir.’ The sergeant surveyed him with respect. ‘You’re all doing a necessary job. I’ve seen a few women climbing in and out of planes, as well. Came as a bit of a shock at first, I can tell you.’

‘Wait until you see them flying Spitfires.’ Jack couldn’t resist the tease.

‘Oh, never, sir! They can’t do that!’ He was shaking his head in denial. ‘Those little girls can’t fly fighters. How you finding things over here, then?’

‘I’m enjoying the work. The camaraderie is terrific and we’ve been welcomed by everyone in the ATA.’ Jack was happy to chat, pushing away his worry about Don. Losing family and friends was part of everyday life in this war. He’d only been here a short time, but he’d seen many people stoically deal with their grief and carry on. They were determined to win, and it was the only way. He’d chosen to join in their struggle, and he also had a job to do.

‘There’s only one problem. We’re supposed to have a common language but, as you’ve just seen, I find some of the expressions difficult to understand, and it’s easy to get into trouble if we say the wrong thing – like calling someone a bum.’

The sergeant smirked. ‘Ah, well, you would. Not the thing at all. Sorry about your mate, but they’ll do their best to find him.’

This man was being kind and understanding and Jack appreciated that. ‘If I know Don, I expect he came down in the shallow end.’

‘That’s right, sir. Now, how about I rustle you up some breakfast and then you can make an early start? The weather’s holding good, according to the Met boys.’

As soon as Jack landed at Prestwick, he checked in and then phoned Rob.

‘Good news, Jack. The Home Guard found Don on the beach last night, unconscious, but he’s alive. He’s safely tucked up in hospital now. They didn’t know who he was because he wasn’t wearing his jacket and he had no identification on him. He seems to have lost everything in his struggle to get out of the plane. He’s regained consciousness now and has been able to tell them who he is.’

‘Thank God!’

‘Yeah.’ There was an amused rumble from Rob. ‘He told them that he didn’t have enough height to jump so he thought the sea might be softer. He could see the shore, and although he can’t swim, he managed to doggy-paddle ashore. He was exhausted and crawled to a sheltered spot before passing out. The Home Guard found him soon after he reached the shore, thank God, or he would have died of cold.’