Some Lucky Day (8 page)

The all-women pool loved flying the perfect lady’s plane, but when the sirens went off to warn of an incoming raid, the barrage balloons went up to protect the Spitfires that were lined up like sitting ducks beside the grass runway. This manoeuvre left only a narrow corridor for friendly incoming aircraft, and as the alignment of that corridor changed each day, it often meant the women had to employ aerobatics to avoid them. This sometimes led to accidents, for not all were as experienced as Kitty and Charlotte in this particular skill, and the RAF certainly didn’t make it part of their training.

Three weeks had passed since she’d last seen Freddy, and Kitty had returned to Hamble after a long day of delivering a Spitfire to High Post, a Mosquito to Aston Down and a damaged Mitchell to the Dunfold Maintenance Unit in Surrey, where it was to be broken up. The tiny cottage she and Charlotte had been allocated right next to the runway felt rather empty with Charlotte away, and as she hadn’t felt like playing another endless game of bridge in the mess, or listening to the wireless, Kitty had decided to stretch her legs and get some fresh air before going to bed.

It was a pleasant evening, but still cool enough to warrant an overcoat, and she dug her hands in her pockets as she walked down the narrow lane that ran through the village to the water’s edge. The stench of the refineries and the ugly sight of the factory roofs in Southampton couldn’t diminish the charm of this place. She looked out over the Solent, listening to the ever-present cries of the gulls. It was quintessentially English, and despite everything, she doubted it had changed in decades.

There were still reminders of peace-time in the ancient trellised verandas that offered a shady spot to sit on a hot day, and in the tiny shops nestled between the five pubs which became favourite bolt-holes during a raid. The Bugle, which faced the water next to the yacht club, was the most famous, for people had flocked there before the war to eat the lobsters that were regarded as second to none.

On a quiet, early summer evening like this, she could imagine how it must once have been, with bright sailing boats and the sound of laughter coming from the yacht club and the pubs, as the armchair seadogs shared their opinions on weekend sailors with anyone who would listen, and children played in the shallows with their buckets and spades.

She stood there watching the seabirds dabbling at the water’s edge as the wind ruffled her hair and the sun dipped low behind the factory chimneys, leaving the sky streaked with pink and orange – perhaps a harbinger of good weather for the next day. Realising her face was cold and that it would soon be too dark to find her way back safely, Kitty turned away from the peaceful scene and trudged up the steep lane to the wider road that would lead her back to the cottage.

Despite the lovely little cottages they were billeted in, Hamble Pool was run a bit like boarding school, with a strict timetable, little cliques and a definite hierarchy. Yet the ATA was a civilian organisation and the many rules were largely ignored. Only the most serious of infringements could be punished by instant dismissal, and everyone knew this was rarely enforced, for ferry pilots were essential to the war effort.

As she walked, Kitty thought of Freddy and Charlotte, who had finally managed to wangle an entire weekend together. Charlotte wouldn’t be returning to Hamble Pool until the early train came in the next morning, and Kitty could only hope that she’d manage to snatch some sleep before she had to start work again, for tiredness led to carelessness, which caused accidents.

Although Kitty treasured her independence and shied clear of romantic involvements that might interfere with her work and her emotions, she rather envied them. They were so clearly suited, and if it wasn’t for this war, she was sure Freddy would have popped the question by now. It was what Charlotte was hoping for, but Kitty knew Freddy was hanging fire because making that sort of commitment at a time like this was not to be taken lightly. They’d all heard of someone who’d lost a husband or fiancé, and Freddy had confided that he was too much in love with Charlotte to let her go through such pain should anything happen to him.

‘Foolish boy,’ she murmured as she approached her cottage. ‘Doesn’t he realise she’d be devastated with or without an engagement ring on her finger?’

‘Talking to yourself, Pargeter?’

Kitty nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t seen the Ops Officer, Alison King, standing in the dark open doorway of the next-door cottage. ‘It’s the first sign of madness, I know,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘But at least that way no one can give me an argument.’

Alison smiled back. ‘I know exactly what you mean. But I suggest an early night, Pargeter. The forecast is good for tomorrow and it will be another busy day.’

Kitty wished her goodnight and went into her cottage. Within the hour, she was fast asleep and dreaming of flying a Spitfire over the Argentine pampas.

Charlotte arrived in a rush just as Kitty was handed her orders for the day. ‘Gosh,’ she breathed, ‘I so nearly didn’t make it on time. The train was delayed.’

Kitty noted the sparkling eyes and radiant face and grinned. ‘I can see the break was worth all the trouble,’ she said. ‘Hurry up and get your chits. We’ve only got a couple of minutes to catch up before we’re off.’

Charlotte collected her orders and they hurried away from the queue. ‘I’m doing Spitfires all day,’ she said breathlessly. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m picking up a Mosquito from Whitchurch to deliver to Leeds, and then taking a Tiffy to Blackpool. From there I’ve got an Oxford to deliver to Kidlington.’ They regarded one another in frustration. ‘So, quick, what happened, Charlotte? Where did you go – what did you do?’

Charlotte blushed and giggled, her face alight with happiness. ‘Freddy borrowed Roger’s car and we went for a lovely drive in the country, followed by lunch in a sweet little pub that overlooks a tiny river. Then we went for a long walk by the river before he drove me to a very smart hotel for a candlelit dinner and some dancing. On Sunday, we did much the same.’

Her blush deepened as she pulled off the glove from her left hand. ‘He proposed, Kitty,’ she breathed as the diamond flashed on her finger.

‘Oh, Charlotte, that’s the best news ever.’ Kitty grabbed her friend in an awkward hug, both of them hampered by parachute harnesses and bulky clothing.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ laughed Charlotte. ‘Now we really will be sisters.’

‘Poor old Freddy.’ Kitty giggled. ‘He won’t know what’s hit him with two of us to keep him on his toes.’

There were tears in Charlotte’s eyes as she squeezed Kitty’s hand. ‘I’m so happy, Kitts,’ she murmured. ‘So very, very happy.’

‘And so you should be,’ replied Kitty as she examined the beautiful ring. ‘My brother is quite a catch – and so are you. You were made for one another.’ She grinned in delight. ‘Oh, Charlotte, I’m so pleased for you both.’

‘Pargeter and Bingham, stop gossiping and see to your duties.’

They both turned to face Margot Gore’s steely glare. ‘Sorry,’ stammered Charlotte, ‘but I’ve just become engaged to Kitty’s brother, and we were celebrating.’

‘Congratulations,’ she said dryly. ‘Unfortunately the war doesn’t stand still for such things, and the day is wasting. Now get on.’

Kitty gave Charlotte another swift hug and they hurried their separate ways. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ shouted Kitty over her shoulder. ‘And the first drink is on me.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Charlotte shouted back as she headed for the long line of Spitfires.

Warmed by Charlotte’s happiness, Kitty was still smiling as she climbed into the air taxi Anson and stowed her kit.

The orange they’d all shared a week ago was now a distant memory, and although they’d each had only a tiny section of this wondrous gift, it had been savoured right to the last drop, and the peel shaved to flavour Daisy’s sugar water. They had licked their fingers and sat quietly at the table for some minutes afterwards, not wanting to break the spell as the scent of the fruit drifted in the room.

It was a totally different atmosphere at the breakfast table this morning, for it was proving to be a very uncomfortable experience for everyone. They could all hear Harvey howling piteously from the basement bedroom, and now Daisy began to yell in sympathy.

‘For goodness’ sake, Ron,’ sighed Peggy in exasperation. ‘Isn’t there something you can do to shut him up? We’ve had to put up with this all week, and he’s worse than any air raid siren. Now he’s set Daisy off as well.’

Ron waggled his wayward eyebrows as he filled his pipe. ‘Ah, to be sure, Peggy, there’s nothing I can do. He’s pining, so he is.’

‘You should have had him seen to when he was a pup,’ Peggy retorted. She plucked the screaming Daisy out of her high chair and tried to placate her with a sliver of toast.

Ron shrugged. ‘’Tis too late now to be thinking like that, Peggy girl. I’m sorry for the noise he’s making, but if I don’t lock him in down there he’ll just be off and getting into terrible trouble with Agatha Fullerton, so he will. And you’ll not be wanting that harridan on your doorstep.’

‘I agree that I don’t want that woman coming here,’ replied Peggy over Daisy’s yells and Harvey’s howls, ‘but surely there’s something you can do to stop him making that racket?’

Ron chewed on the stem of his pipe. ‘Well,’ he drawled, ‘I’m thinking the whippet will be coming out of season any minute now, and then Harvey will quieten down, so he will.’

‘Oh, I think the cricket season has already started,’ said Cordelia with a frown. ‘I didn’t know you liked cricket, Ron. Are you thinking of playing this season?’

Fran and Rita collapsed into a fit of giggles, and even Peggy had to smile at this, but none of them encouraged Cordelia to turn up her hearing aid as she was the only person in the kitchen not being deafened by the baby and the dog.

‘Lord bless you, Cordelia,’ Ron shouted above the noise. ‘I’ve not held a cricket bat in me life.’

Cordelia frowned again and looked at the others in helpless confusion. ‘What’s his wife got to do with it?’ she asked. ‘She’s been dead for years.’

Ron gave up trying to explain and shrugged his shoulders as the girls continued to giggle.

Sarah pushed back her chair and gathered up the gabardine raincoat which was part of her Women’s Timber Corps uniform. ‘It’s such a lovely day I think I’ll leave now and take my time getting to work,’ she said with great diplomacy. ‘The walk over the hills to the estate will help to clear my head ready for this morning’s stock-take.’

‘I’m sorry it hasn’t been exactly restful around here just lately, dear,’ said Peggy, retrieving her daughter’s discarded bit of soggy toast from the front of her apron. ‘Let’s hope he’ll be quieter by tonight and then we can all get some peace.’

Sarah gave her a wan smile before kissing her great aunt Cordelia on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you all later.’ She headed for the front door, which was the only exit from the house now that Ron had made the garden door out of bounds in an effort to keep Harvey in.

Suzy poured a second cup of stewed tea from the pot. ‘Do you think he might make less noise if you let him come into the kitchen, Ron? It might be that he just hates being shut away after having the run of the house all his life.’

‘I tried that, so I did,’ replied a gloomy Ron. ‘But the kitchen window was open and he took a swallow dive straight out of it and was off.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘To be sure he was lucky not to break his neck from that height, but I’m sorry he’s such an inconvenience.’

Peggy’s expression was grim as she jiggled Daisy up and down on her lap in an effort to quieten her. ‘Your blessed dog is not the only inconvenience to be borne in this house, Ronan Reilly,’ she retorted. ‘The outside lav still isn’t finished, and you’ve been promising to see to it for weeks.’

‘Ach, well, I’ve been awful busy.’ He squirmed in the kitchen chair, refusing to meet her gaze. ‘There’s all the work we had to do after the bomb blast, and the cleaning up. And then I’ve had to look after me ferrets and rush about after Harvey, and do me duty with the Home Guard and . . .’

‘All right, all right,’ interrupted Peggy wearily. ‘I should have known better than to ask. You and Harvey are as bad as each other – one whiff of a distraction and you’re gone.’

‘Will ye be listening to yourself, Peggy? Don’t be fretting, girl. I’ll be doing the lav today, so I will. Straight away after I’ve helped Rosie to change the beer barrels and bottle up, and taken me ferrets and Harvey for their exercise.’

Peggy rolled her eyes and tried to stem the surge of impatience that shot through her. It was always the same when it came to the jobs she needed doing here, and the fact that Ron had painted Rosie Braithwaite’s living quarters above the pub only served to irritate her further. ‘If it’s not done by the end of the week then I’ll get out a hammer and nails and do it myself,’ she threatened.

‘Now then, Peggy, there’s no need to be putting yourself out like that,’ he soothed. ‘You’ll only injure yourself, and then you’ll have something else to moan about.’

‘You’ll have something to moan about if you patronise me like that again,’ she snapped with a glare. ‘Just see to it, Ron, or I’ll use some of your pension to pay a man to do it for you.’

His blue eyes widened in horror beneath the bushy brows. ‘You’ll not be spending me pension on such a thing,’ he gasped.

‘Then fix the lav,’ she said flatly.

Rita pushed back from the table and picked up the WWI leather flying helmet and sheepskin-lined jacket she always wore over her fire brigade uniform to ride her motorbike. ‘You’ve lost the argument, Uncle Ron,’ she said, ‘so you might as well give in gracefully and get on with it. You can’t expect Grandma Finch to go up and down the stairs all day, and Peggy has enough to do without you making life more difficult.’

‘I agree,’ said Fran as she tossed back her mane of russet hair and reached for her nurse’s cloak. ‘And to be sure, Uncle Ron, I’m thinking perhaps the job is too difficult for you, which is why you keep putting it off.’

‘And to be sure you’re a cheeky wee girl,’ he countered with the ghost of a smile. He gave a great sigh as if the world was lying heavily on his sturdy shoulders. ‘All right, I give in. ’Tis punished I am for me sins to be living in a house of bossy, demanding women.’