Churchill’s Angels (16 page)

They were moving slowly along the sweep.

I’m in a Spitfire, fantasised Daisy, and am about to intercept a Messerschmitt.

It was as if Adair could read her mind. ‘Remember when you asked me if I was going to drop things on the enemy?’

‘That was a joke.’

He was smiling. ‘I know, Daisy Petrie, and it made me laugh. It’s useful having something funny to remember.’

She could think of nothing to say and sat quietly as the plane picked up speed. Faster and faster they ran until … they were in the air. One moment they had been on the ground, the next climbing towards the blue sweep of cloudless sky. She saw The Old Manor, with its boarded-up windows, far below them, the farmhouse, the stables.

‘Pay attention.’

Looking down on the world, Daisy had felt sophisticated, mature. Now she felt like a naughty child. ‘I’m sorry; it’s all … I was listening … ’

‘Then go through the sequence for me. I do understand how amazing it all is and I wish we had time—’

He stopped and she wondered what he had been going to say.

‘Tomas is already decorated by two governments, Daisy. Men stand in line to have a chance to fly with him, work for him, even talk to him. You’re a very lucky girl.’

She bowed her head.

‘Cheer up, little Daisy. Already he thinks you’re absolutely splendid. Now, from the beginning …’

She was surprised and relieved to discover that she remembered everything and was able to enjoy the remainder of the short flight.

They landed, with Adair once again explaining his every move. When they came to a stop, she began to clamber out.

‘Into the pilot’s seat, Daisy.’ Adair was climbing out. ‘Be nice to her, Tomas,’ she heard him say, ‘I forgot she was a girl.’

‘Now, that I could never forget, my friend.’ Tomas folded his long frame into the seat behind Daisy. ‘Ready, Daisy. Off we go.’

With his attractively accented voice encouraging her, Daisy found herself calm and in control. The hordes of butterflies that had been cavorting around her stomach since she arrived at the farm had flown away and she was aware of nothing but the sky above her, Tomas’s quiet voice, and the controls in her hands.

‘We land now and this little
Daisy
is the sweetest plane, so easy, so comfortable. The American flyers call her a flying bath tub, not polite, but it’s because the pilot sits so close to the ground; fly by, you will excuse me, the seat of the pants.’

It was all over. Dreamed of for so long, and the realisation had taken less than an hour.

It’s not enough. I want more, thought Daisy as she climbed out, removed her jacket and returned it to Tomas. I have got to learn how to do this by myself.

‘Thank you both very much,’ she said, all the time feeling as if there was a lump of ice where her heart should be. Why did this wonderful day have to end?

Adair was looking at his watch. ‘How stupid. I forgot. Daisy, Nancy has some eggs for you to take home. She asked me to send you back to the kitchen.’

Fresh farm eggs. That would make a lovely addition to her mother’s larder.

‘Super, I’ll just run.’

The pilots stood on the driveway beside her bicycle and watched her run back to the farmhouse.

‘She’s a natural, Adair, great balance, hand-eye co-ordination, name it, this girl has it. Why don’t welet her take the
Daisy
up?’

Adair looked at his friend in amazement. ‘Fly solo? Are you completely out of your mind, Tomas? She needs more time.’

‘But of course, my friend, but time is among the many things we do not have. Take her up again; we’ll find fuel somewhere. Let Daisy handle the controls, tell her to listen and remember every word you say, bring her down, get out, and tell her to repeat the flight. Make it short, just enough to gain some altitude, turn around and come back. We’re at war, my dear friend. You and I, who knows the odds? Maybe there won’t be another chance. As I get older, I realise that I regret in life things I did not do, but not a thing I did do.’ He was still for a moment. ‘Except maybe to steal apples from the priest’s garden when I was not even hungry.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eight, nine perhaps.’

‘What a wicked child you were, and from the garden of a priest? I’m stunned. So glad I had no idea when I invited you to share my stable.’ Adair smiled. ‘But I trust you with my life and hers. I’ll do it, if you really think she’s ready.’

‘Do you not think so, Adair?’

‘I find I am not thinking these days of Daisy as a rather useful mechanic or as a pupil, Tomas. How did that happen?’

‘Life happens, my friend. Accept with joy. Here she comes. Daisy,’ he called, ‘flying lessons won’t wait while ladies gossip.’

‘Sorry, but Nancy made us tea.’ She held up a battered Thermos flask.

‘Later, when you have flown solo, we will celebrate with British tea.’

‘I certainly hope not,’ laughed Adair, but neither Daisy nor Tomas understood his joke.

Daisy was standing, Thermos clasped tightly, and looking slightly dazzled. ‘How long do we wait for tea?’

‘Climb aboard, Daisy.’ Tomas relieved her of the Thermos. ‘After your solo.’

Somewhat stunned, excited and terrified in turn, Daisy looked at these two men who meant so much but whom she had known for a very little time. She nodded her head as if in silent agreement and managed to get into the plane.

Adair climbed up effortlessly and levered himself into the pilot’s seat. ‘You’re capable, Daisy Petrie. Watch what I do. Listen to every word I say and memorise them. Ready?’

Unable to speak, she nodded.

‘Daisy?’

‘Yes.’ The word came out clearly.

Adair flew the
Daisy
around in a small circle, his beautifully modulated voice seeming to make poetry out of the instructions, and Daisy, thinking she would die of happiness, stored every word in a special corner of her brain.

He brought the plane down and taxied her to a halt beside Tomas. ‘Right, Flying Officer Petrie, into the pilot’s seat. Take her up, Daisy, take her up.’

‘You’re joking and that’s not nice.’

‘Miss Petrie, Tomas has spent over four thousand hours teaching idiots to fly. You’re not an idiot and he says you’re ready.
Ergo
, take her up.’

Daisy did.

Her heart was back to normal, if beating a little more rapidly than usual. She felt that her excitement, her exhilaration would lift the
Daisy
, but calmly she went through the routine, ticking off each instruction in her brain.

And then – she was airborne. She was an eagle. The beautiful world was laid out below her for her to admire, and clouds danced past her.

Below her, the two men, experienced pilots, watched, willing her to succeed, feeling their muscles tense as they tried somehow to put all their strength behind the small plane and its young pilot.

‘It’s good, it’s good,’ muttered Adair.

‘Did I not tell you this?’ asked his friend with a smile.

Five minutes or so later, Adair and Tomas watched Daisy change course, gradually losing height and speed. She landed with the gentlest of bumps and taxied along the grass verge. ‘She’s a baby house martin returning to the nest,’ said Adair with a smile. ‘Look at her; even the plane looks joyful.’

The plane came to a halt and a very relieved pilot lay back in the seat and whispered, ‘I’ve done it.’

‘Look at her,’ Adair said again, ‘she’s muttering her instructions, mutter, mutter, mutter, switch off fuel, mutter, mutter.’

He laughed with a mixture of happiness and relief, as Daisy, whose muscles had turned to water, tried to climb out of the cockpit, lost her balance and fell into his arms. He hugged her tightly. ‘You feel the plane, don’t you? You’ll make an excellent pilot.’ He swung her around, yelling, ‘She did it, Tomas, Daisy flew.’

‘So she did,’ said Tomas calmly, ‘with the help of a perfect little plane and two of the world’s best pilots.’ Having worked out Adair’s funny remark, he added, ‘Now we will celebrate with Nancy’s “I hope not British” tea.’

They drank their tea and Daisy wondered if she was the only one who knew how much of her precious tea leaves Nancy had put in the pot for them.

But it was time to go. Daisy stood up and thanked them.

‘You are most welcome, Miss Daisy Petrie.’ Tomas smiled and shook her hand. ‘I hope to fly with you again.’

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Adair. ‘You are a natural. I’ll try, Daisy. We’ll try to get back if it’s at all possible. I’ll have to, actually, if I intend to hand her over.’

‘Thank you.’ She stopped, knowing that it was time for them to leave. She did not want them to go. It seemed … final. ‘Well, goodbye, both of you, and thanks again.’ She turned and walked towards her bicycle.

‘Wait.’

She stopped and looked back. Adair was running towards her. ‘Here, Daisy Petrie. Take my good luck scarf. It will keep you warm on this bicycle of yours.’ He held out the long, pale-lemon cashmere scarf.

Daisy had never received a present from any man but her father or her brothers. She wanted to take the scarf; it was beautiful and it was his. She told herself that she really wanted to accept because it would be very useful in the winter. But still she hesitated.

He smiled at her. ‘Take it, Daisy Petrie. There isn’t any social etiquette about accepting an old scarf.’

‘Thank you.’ She took the scarf and mounted her bicycle.

‘Be safe, Daisy Petrie.’

She smiled. ‘Be safe, Adair Maxwell.’

She looked back as she approached the gate but the plane and the men had gone.

Half an hour later Daisy arrived home, her mind still ablaze with sensations: the thrill of flying solo, the heady mix of fear and excitement when she had been in sole control of the plane, and the wonderful feeling of trust when Adair had held her tightly against his chest. ‘If I died now, I would be happy,’ Daisy called out to a bird sitting on a windowsill, and then realisation hit. Were she to die today, happy or not, she would never see Adair again, nor Tomas, she added quickly. Euphoria vanished as mist vanishes in the warm rays of the sun.

I’ll tell Rose, she decided, but I don’t think Mum’s ready for solo flights.

‘I’ll be back at work in no time, Mum,’ Rose said quietly one afternoon as they sat together in the kitchen, listening to the lifeline that was the wireless. ‘Don’t you think it’s time to let Daisy go?’

Flora said nothing but next day, without a word to either of her daughters, she went out with her shopping basket, returning an hour later with a heavy parcel.

‘Our Rose will be back at work soon, Daisy, and I can easily manage the shop on my own.’

The twins looked at her. Was this their mother back with them again? But was it too sudden? If they blithely accepted the transformation, would they be disappointed when the endless grief and continual worrying attacked again?

‘There’s a piece in the paper today, girls, about getting your winter wardrobe fit for the shelters. Warm pullovers, it says, and best with a polo neck, and rubber boots or snow boots. I can do nothing about the boots but I plan to knit pullovers and I’m going to make those curtains.’ She prodded the parcel to indicate the butcher’s wrap before continuing, ‘And Miss Partridge, can you believe, prim little Miss Partridge, who never worked a day in her life except to do flowers and such in the church, is going to help me out in the shop. A few hours here and there. Poor dear wants a bit of company in the bad times, I think. Well, she’ll get it here, and a nice cup of tea with a biscuit when we have it. We also think she might be good for the Preston lads; well, she’s better educated than your dad and me.’

It was a long speech from Flora and she looked a little embarrassed by it herself but she was not finished. ‘You’ve been my rocks, girls, mine and Dad’s, but it’s time for me to join the fight. First thing tomorrow morning, Daisy, before they start their raids again, I want you to go and volunteer for the WAAF. No, don’t say anything or I’ll cry and I want to get this steeped before … well, I want to get it steeped.’

The curtain material had to wait, as once again the strident noise of the air-raid warning sounded.

Exhausted from yet another night in the refuge room, listening in terror to the destruction going on around, Daisy scarcely felt able to drag herself into the recruiting office next day. When she did, she was asked a few simple questions, including her age.

‘We’re not taking babies, you know, love.’

‘I’m nearly nineteen and I want to do my bit. I’d like to serve in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, please.’

‘Very commendable. I dunno about the WAAF. They’re really looking for women with a bit of … experience.’

Daisy was sure that she had been going to say ‘class’.

‘Never mind,’ the woman continued, ‘fill in a form and then go home and wait.’

‘Will it be long?’

‘Dunno. Depends on who reads your form and who needs what. When did you leave school?’

Blast. She should have kept quiet. ‘In 1936.’

‘What have you been doing since? Working, I hope.’

‘Yes, in my dad’s shop.’

‘Well, who knows? Off you go.’

‘I can drive, and strip an engine and I’ve worked on an aeroplane.’

‘An’ me and Princess Elizabeth went riding our ’orses at the weekend. Frightfully lovely it was, an’ all. Go home. You’ll hear one way or the other.’

Her hopes in tatters, Daisy went home. She was furious with herself. Adair had said to tell the WAAF recruiting officer about the plane, not the local recruiting sergeant. She had been so anxious to make a good impression that she had made an absolute fool of herself. Would the woman who had laughed at her write something unpleasant on the form? ‘Shop girl with ambition and no qualifications’?

For the next few weeks it seemed that she had, for Daisy heard absolutely nothing.

There was great excitement when a second letter arrived from Phil. It told his parents no more than that he was alive and liked the navy. Those few words, however, were more than enough for the little family.

‘One of our boys is safe, Fred,’ said Flora, who went to sleep that night with the letter under her pillow. ‘Now I’m going to tell our Daisy, no half measures, I want her to go away. They always learns the quickest way home, don’t they, Fred, when you’ve let them go,’ she finished bravely, tears threatening to spill down her pale cheeks.