Blackbirds (10 page)

Several of the men got in between Patrick and Bloggs.

One said, “Sergeant Major! He's just another posh bastard with a pair of wings!”

Bloggs backed up a few steps, then retreated down the side of the hangar.

The mechanics studied Sharon with renewed interest.

“Should've known!” one said.

“What's that mean, Nigel?” Patrick asked.

“I heard the pilots talkin' over there.” Nigel pointed toward the canteen. “They said a pilot broke up a bomber formation, and at least two Jerries went down. They thought she couldn't have done it, but if she's your daughter, that would make it entirely possible.” Nigel pushed his shoulders back, waiting for Patrick to do his worst.

Patrick turned to Sharon. “You flew through a Nazi formation?”

Sharon nodded.

Patrick put his hand to his forehead. “Christ!”

“It's not like I went looking for trouble,” Sharon said.

“But trouble sure has a way of finding you!” Patrick pointed at his men. “Get that new Spitfire fitted out. We'll need it to be ready to go as soon as possible.”

The crew wended its way into the hangar.

“I'd better go and get a ride back to White Waltham,” Sharon said.

“That might be a bit of a problem.” He walked alongside her.

She breathed in the scent of him under the oil and the shaving cream.

The pilot of the air taxi was asleep under the wing of the Anson.

“Drunken bastard,” Patrick said.

Sharon saw Roger on his back with an arm draped over his eyes. He was snoring. “Dad, can you give me a hand?”

The word was out before she could think about it. It hung there for a minute.

“Yes.” Patrick's voice broke. He put his hand over his mouth and pretended to cough.

They picked up the snoring Roger and hefted him in through the back door of the aircraft.

Patrick said, “Christ, he smells like the backside of a pub. He landed about an hour ago. The landing was bloody awful. He stumbled out, started drinking from a flask, and passed out.”

“Just another hazard of my present occupation,” Sharon said.

Patrick laughed. “You're not going to let him fly, are you?”

“Hell no! Help me strap him into a seat, and I'll fly us both back to White Waltham.” Sharon climbed inside the aircraft. It smelled of fabric, oil, sweat, and gin.

She lifted Roger under the arms. Patrick grabbed him by the knees. They crammed him into his seat.

Patrick tightened the harness. “Don't want him getting up and moving about. Want me to get some rope?”

“He'll be fine, I think.” She turned to her father. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He took her hand. “The next time you're here, there are things we need to talk about.”

“What things?” Sharon asked.

Patrick released her hand and squeezed his way down the fuselage, stepped out the door, and poked his head back in. “Next time.”

He closed the door.

CHAPTER 8

“You look better.”
Sharon sat down on a metal chair in Linda's hospital room. “I brought you some magazines.” She lifted the cloth bag and put it on the table next to Linda's bed.

“Honeysuckle wants to see you.” Linda closed her eyes, opened them, breathed into her hand to check her breath, and grimaced.

“What about?” Sharon asked.

“I'm not really sure. You know my mother — she can be a bit secretive.”

“Not with me.” Sharon shook her head.

“Did I tell you Honeysuckle wants to talk with you?”

“Yes.” Sharon nodded.

“Oh. Didn't I just say that? I'm a little fuzzy. The morphine, you know. Wonderful stuff, by the way.”

“So the doctors are putting your ass on your legs?”

“You have such a blunt way of explaining the most delicate and intricate of surgeries. And, as usual, you've hit the nail right on the head. You always manage to cheer me up with that direct approach to any problem.” Linda smiled.

“You were saying that your mother wants to see me?”
God, Linda
looks so thin and her hair has lost its shine
.

“Yes, she said that you must drop by when you get a delivery close to her neck of the woods.” Linda looked out the window as a man walked past.

“What do you see?”

“One of the boys who's had his nose burned off. They're building him a new one. You must have seen one or two on your way in. They have their new noses connected to one shoulder. Quite a shocker when you first see it. Now it's all old hat. They're still worried I might lose a leg, you know.” Linda looked at her friend.

“I didn't know.”

“And they say you're the reason why I have any hope at all of keeping both. How did you know to bring me here?”

“The pilot we met the morning your brother flew in from France. Remember?”

“Vaguely.” Linda stared at the wall. “If memory serves, I was busy beating him up.”

“Richard, the Lysander pilot, had been burned. He told me about this hospital.”

“Guinea pigs.”

“What?” Sharon asked.

“The boys call themselves guinea pigs. Much of the medicine practiced here is experimental. Sometimes it's called plastic surgery.”

“Plastic. Sounds like something new.” Sharon looked at the mini-tent of elevated white sheet above Linda's legs.

“Speaking of new, what's new with your father?” Linda asked.

“I saw him again. Just after I flew through a Luftwaffe bomber formation.”

Linda sat up on her elbows. “Come on, tell me how you managed to find yourself doing something that mad!”

Sharon told Linda about flying into cloud, being hunted by a Messerschmitt
B
f 110, and the ensuing collision.

“I don't know all of the rules about air combat, but I think you may be well on your way to being an ace. That makes three, if memory serves.” Linda raised her eyebrows. “You Canadians are such a fierce lot.”

Sharon shrugged. “It was all about staying alive, believe me. It was plain dumb luck that I missed colliding with one of the Heinkels.”

Linda shook her head. “It was more than luck. Every time we fly together, I'm quite envious of your instinctive ability to react to different circumstances.”

“Too bad I'm such a disaster when it comes to having a family.”

“Look, your mother left to get you away from that brother and father of hers. Honeysuckle said your mother was so different from everyone else in her family. She wasn't pompous and posh like the men. And she didn't pretend everything was just fine in her family, like Cornelia does. Everyone seems to think that your mother was really quite remarkable.” Linda reached for a glass of water. “Christ, I'm always so thirsty in this place.”

“I miss her every day.”

Linda looked over top of the glass. “Of course you do. Just don't miss what's right in front of your face.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that a family isn't always made up of blood relations. If you can't see that, then you may have the eyesight of an ace, but you're still blind as a bat.” Linda sat the glass down next to her bed. “My arse is sore. I'm going to roll over on my side.”

“Tempsford? Where's that, Mother?”
Sharon asked.

Mother scratched his head. “Not sure, exactly. Apparently, it's near Bedford. Once they drop you off at the assembly hangar for the Lysander, someone will surely give you directions.” He handed her a chit and pointed her in the direction of the duty Anson that was to drop her at her next delivery.

“I'm sorry, Mother, but where's Bedford?”

“North of London, near Cambridge.”

She was the first to be dropped off at a small airfield west of London where Lysanders were assembled.

An aircraftsman leaned against the open hangar door. “You the one here to pick up the Lysander?”

“That's me.” Sharon felt the morning sun against the back of her neck.
It might turn out to be a rare day for flying
.

The aircraftsman reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I was told to give you this.”

Sharon took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a detailed map placing Tempsford about halfway between Bedford and Cambridge. A compass heading was written across the top of the map.

After she completed the walk around, Sharon could sense the eyes of the aircraftsman on her back as she made the ten-foot climb up the side of the Lysander and into the cockpit.

She kept her
ATA
handbook of aircraft tucked into the pocket of her coveralls as she went though her checks. She said, “Clear!” and started the engine. The airframe shuddered. The exhaust belched smoke. She waited for the engine to even out, then began to roll ahead.

After running up the engine and completing her preflight checks, she aimed the Lysander into the wind and marveled as its high, long wings bit into the wind and carried her into the air after a remarkably short takeoff run.

The expanse of Plexiglas made the cockpit into a greenhouse. Sharon wiped the sweat from her forehead as she leveled off at one thousand feet and headed north. She opened a side window to get some air moving inside the cockpit.

After about twenty minutes, she thought,
I've got the feel of this
thing
. She tapped the envelope in her breast pocket and played the directions back in her mind as she maintained her heading and looked ahead for Bedford. The Lysander's high wing made it easy to see what was beneath her.

For a few minutes, she almost enjoyed England as the landscape rolled along. It was relatively easy to find Bedford, even though she'd never been there before, and then she headed east.

Tempsford was only seven miles away. She spotted the runway, checked the wind, and was the only aircraft in the circuit. She landed on the grass strip and taxied toward a collection of construction equipment. A man with a leather vest waved his arms over his head, then pointed to his left.

She taxied toward a patch of tarmac, gave the Lysander's Bristol engine a twitch of throttle, kicked the rudder, and swung the aircraft around. Sharon shut down, undid her harness, slid the canopy open, and climbed over the side.

“It's good to see you again.”

Sharon turned as she pulled off her leather flight helmet. Standing there was Michael — Linda's brother. His hair was a sandy blond in the morning sunlight, and he was a head taller than her.

She felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his blue eyes. “What are you doing here?” Sharon pushed her brown hair back, combing it with the fingers of her right hand.
I must look a sight.

“I've been awaiting your arrival, actually.” Michael nodded in the direction of a black, silver-grilled Austin parked at the edge of the tarmac.

Sharon frowned and looked sideways at him. “What do you mean?”
Was my being here part of a plan
?
Why am I so nervous?

“I mean, I wanted to thank you for taking care of Linda, and I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Why?” Sharon looked around her. Construction workers were pouring tea from flasks and leaning against the back of a truck.

“Honeysuckle told me to bring some coffee and a bite to eat. It's in the trunk of the Austin.” He turned and walked toward the car.

Sharon waited for a moment, then followed.
He obviously went to a
great deal of trouble. How did he know it would be me doing the delivery
?

When she approached the car, Sharon heard a snarl. “What's that?”

Michael opened the boot and pulled out a picnic basket. “What's what?”

This time, she heard a growl.

“Are there bears around here?” Sharon asked.

“Bears?” Michael began to laugh. “It's my mother — she's snoring!”

“Honeysuckle is here?” Sharon asked.

“What? Who's there?” The voice came from inside the car.