‘I’ll put the notice up first thing so you can expect to get a flood of eager applicants tomorrow. I’ve really enjoyed staying here, I doubt I’ll find anywhere so pleasant where I’m going.’

  They said goodnight and she left Mrs Cooper washing up the supper things. With the blackout closed she was able to put on the bedside light and read her letter.

  Ellie,

  I’m writing this from hospital. I’m being discharged from the RAF as I’m no longer fit for service. I should be back in Britain in a few weeks and will come and speak to you in person.

  Best wishes

  Jack

  She read the letter again. Something catastrophic must have happened to Jack or he wouldn’t be leaving the RAF. Some small comfort was that he obviously wasn’t critically injured. Her imagination ran wild at the possibilities – had he been burnt? This was a common injury for pilots but he probably wouldn’t be discharged so soon if that was the case. Her conclusion was that he’d been maimed in such a way he couldn’t remain in the RAF. Then even that possibility seemed unlikely as he could hardly come and visit her in person in a wheelchair because he’d lost his legs or something equally horrible. Then she recalled that her brother George had been forced to leave the RAF because of a perforated eardrum – it could be something like that and she was worrying unnecessarily.

  There was nothing she could do until he contacted her. She checked the date on the letter, surprisingly it had only taken a week to reach her so she would be at the Hamble base before he got back. If she wrote her reply immediately and posted it first thing he should get it before he left and know not to come to Hatfield in search of her.

  She and the other four women who had pioneered the flying of operational aircraft were going to be based with men and their duties were to deliver Spitfires. Then, as more women were trained, the men would transfer and the pool would be all female.

  The following morning she pinned up the postcard for Mrs Cooper and it was immediately pounced on by one of the new pilots. ‘Is this where you’ve been staying, Ellie?’

  ‘Yes, I can highly recommend it. Excellent food, comfortable room and delightful family. It’s a bit of a trek if you have to walk but I’ve managed to get a lift every morning without fail.’

  The girl, and she wasn’t much older than Ellie, removed the card and put it in her pocket. ‘I’ve got to do a test run this afternoon, circuits and bumps to prove I’m qualified to be here. So I’ll go now and bag this for myself. The B&B I stayed in last night was grim.’

  The crew room was busy as always at this time of the morning. Amanda greeted her with a hug. ‘I’ve just been told I’m coming with you – I can’t believe my luck. It wouldn’t have been the same without you here.’

  ‘That’s good news. Are you going home tomorrow or would you like to come with me again?’

  Amanda blushed. ‘Actually, old thing, I’m going to meet Rodney’s parents.’

  Rodney was one of the men in the ATA, the only reason he wasn’t operational was his age. At forty he was considered too old. In her opinion he was too old for her friend, a fifteen year age gap wasn’t ideal.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were so serious or that he still had parents alive for you to meet.’ Her friend looked hurt and Ellie regretted her snide remark. ‘Sorry, that was unkind. I really like him. Have you asked him why he never got married?’

  ‘Of course I have. He was engaged but was jilted at the altar and this rather put him off the whole business. I know you think he’s a bit long in the tooth for me, but I love him and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’ Amanda was called to the operations room giving Ellie time to think.

  In her opinion love was overrated. All it had brought her was pain and heartache. If she ever did get married, and she supposed one day she would want a family of her own, it would be for practical reasons, not romantic ones.

  Over the past few months she had begun to believe that maybe Jack would make her an ideal partner. If she wasn’t going to marry for love then she wanted her future husband to be someone she liked and respected, someone who would be a good father and companion to her. He didn’t have to be wealthy, she had more than enough money of her own.

  Losing Greg, allowing Amanda to ruin the lives of his unwanted wife and child, had changed her, made her harder and she really didn’t like the person she’d become. How could she be contemplating marrying a man she didn’t love? It would be so unfair to Jack.

  The war must also take some of the blame. It was unrelenting. However much the newspapers and newsreaders tried to disguise it, things were not going well for Britain. They might have prevented Hitler from invading but she could see no way they could win; eventually his superior forces would wear them down.

  Pushing aside such morbid thoughts she smiled at Amanda when she returned. ‘I really like him, he shares your love of flying and will make you an ideal husband.’

  Amanda’s shout of laughter turned several heads in the direction. ‘Good God! I’m not going to marry him. I said I love him, marriage is not on the cards.’

  Ellie was confused. ‘Then why are you meeting his parents?’

  ‘His family breed steeplechasers. It’s been ages since I had a good gallop, that’s why I’m going down to his family home.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you say so?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist it. There’s a war on, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been given licence to behave how we like and by God I’m going to take every advantage of it.’

  Ellie didn’t smile. ‘Just make sure you don’t get pregnant like Elizabeth did – otherwise you’ll have to marry him whether you want to or not.’

  ‘That too will be taken care of. I suggest you find yourself a lover, let your hair down a little, you’re becoming old before your time. There must be dozens of unattached Brylcreem boys who would be only too happy to show you the ropes.’

  This suggestion was so outrageous Ellie had to laugh. ‘I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less. I would have slept with Greg but he was too much of a gentleman. I don’t have any religious or moral principles on the subject, it’s just that sex with a stranger doesn’t appeal to me.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you hop into bed with the first attractive man you meet. I’m just saying it’s time you began to live again, it’s been nine months since Greg died. He wouldn’t want you to mope about any longer.’

  Now was the time to tell Amanda about Jack’s letter but for some reason she refrained. She didn’t want anyone to pity him. He was a proud man, he deserved to keep his dignity intact.

  *

  September 1941, London

  Jack was sick of the sympathetic glances he got because of his empty sleeve. If they only knew about the excruciating pain he had where his arm used to be. His first task must be to use his accumulated coupons to buy himself some clothes.

  Being out of uniform wasn’t right, but he’d had no choice. He was going to fly or leave. He wasn’t going to see Ellie, that would be too painful, so he would write to her again, make up some nonsense about relocating to America as he had no ties in the UK.

  In fact, maybe that would be a good move. He had friends out there, maybe it would do him good to get away from here where he was constantly reminded he could no longer do his bit for the war effort.

  Despite having sufficient coupons there was nothing for him to buy. He must remain in his ill-fitting demob suit unless he was prepared to go down to Glebe Farm and collect the clothes he’d left there when he joined up.

  She was already at Hamble, in Hampshire, so she could deliver Spitfires all over the country. She could hardly get back to Essex on her two free days so it would be fairly risk-free to nip down there and collect his things.

  The more he thought about this the better he liked the idea. Fred and Mabel could tell Ellie how things were and he didn’t have to see her or write to her himself. She didn’t deserve to be tied to a cripple, a one armed man was no use to anyone and certainly not someone as lovely and perfect as she was.

  Decision made he headed across London to Liverpool Street and caught the train. He had to buy his ticket – another thing about being a civilian he didn’t like. Strangely, they hadn’t asked for his uniform back – he still had it in his kitbag. He’d leave it at the farm if Fred didn’t mind.

  He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but people didn’t seem to want to meet his eye, even those he knew quite well from his time living at the farm and running the aero club. Nobody offered him a lift, probably because he was out of uniform and they thought he was a draft dodger. With his kitbag over his left shoulder they wouldn’t be able to see the empty sleeve.

  Night was falling by the time he trudged down the lane that led to the farm, but the dogs were there to greet him. He was some distance from the house when Fred appeared in the gloom.

  ‘Is that you, Jack? You should have rung, I’d have come and got you.’

  There was no comment made about his arm and for that Jack was grateful. Time enough to explain everything when he’d had a stiff drink. He hoped Fred had alcohol in the house as he could do with something stronger than tea.

  They walked around to the back and slipped in behind the blackout curtain that hung a foot behind the door. Fred reached over and removed the kitbag from his shoulder. ‘Go in the sitting room, lad, I’ll bring you a whiskey.’

  There was no sign of Mabel who would normally come out and greet him. Jack could hear the sound of crockery rattling in the kitchen. He had missed supper but his appetite had deserted him since his accident and he wasn’t hungry. He must have lost a stone at least in the past month and he’d already lost weight whilst living in the desert.

  He slumped onto the sofa, closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift. He didn’t know what he was going to do with the rest of his life, he thought he had it planned, but now he was at a loss.

  ‘Here you are, Jack lad, get this down you.’

  A glass was put in his remaining hand and he opened his eyes sufficiently to guide it to his mouth.

  ‘Good thing it wasn’t your right one, son, it would be a right bugger to learn everything again.’

  The whiskey slopped onto his chest as he sat up abruptly. ‘Bloody hell! You’re right. I should be thanking my lucky stars that I’m not dead and that it was my left hand that bought it.’ For the first time since his accident he smiled.

  ‘Mabel’s making you a bite to eat. Seems to me you need a bit of feeding up before you do anything else. Have you spoken to Ellie?’

  Jack drained the glass and Fred filled it to the brim again. ‘I wrote to tell her that I was out of the RAF but didn’t tell her why. I don’t want to speak to her or see her at the moment.’

  ‘She’s bound to ring once she’s found new digs and I’ll tell her you’re here recuperating. She’ll be imagining the worst, lad, so I’ll tell her it’s just your left hand, nothing too bad.’

  ‘I’d be grateful if you don’t mention I’m here. I’ll go and see her once, well, when I know what I’m going to do next.’ He put the full glass down, he’d not eaten since yesterday morning and didn’t want to get drunk. ‘I was hoping that Ellie and I might make a match of it one day, but that’s out of the question now.’

  He waited for Fred to contradict him, to tell him he had his blessing to ask his daughter to marry him, but an uncomfortable silence remained.

  ‘Thank Mabel, but I’m going to turn in.’

  It was strangely difficult to stand up with only one arm, he’d no idea why this was as he’d never used his left hand to push himself to his feet. Perhaps it was a balance thing or maybe all in his mind. The pain he felt where his arm used to be was certainly imagined. The doc told him this could last a few weeks or years – he hoped it was the former.

  Fred didn’t call him back. Jack was on the bottom step when he reconsidered. Food was rationed, not only would it be wasteful to refuse what had been prepared for him but also impolite. Being an officer and mixing with the toffs must have rubbed off on him.

  He returned to the sitting room. ‘Sorry, I’m not myself at the moment. I do need to eat if I’m going to get fit again.’

  ‘Good lad, I can hear the tray coming. Set yourself down again. I expect you’d prefer coffee, but you can’t get it for love or money nowadays.’

  ‘Anything is fine.’

  He hadn’t sat down as he would only have had to get up again when Mabel came in.

  ‘Here you are, I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I’ve brought along a bit of everything. There’s cheese on toast, scones, a bit of cold beef from yesterday’s roast and bubble and squeak.’ Mabel beamed at him and put the tray down on the central coffee table.

  ‘It smells delicious, you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. I’d have been satisfied with a sandwich.’

  After a few mouthfuls, he realised he was ravenous and ate more than he had in months. He’d been so busy eating he’d not paused between bites to speak. Definitely not the behaviour of an officer.

  He wiped his mouth on the napkin and sat back. ‘Thank you. That was excellent.’

  ‘You’re half starved, Jack love, I can’t tell you how glad we are to have you back. Now you’re safe we don’t have to worry too much about this wretched war.’ Mabel took his empty plate and handed him a second mug of tea.

  ‘Romford has been bombed several times, people have died. We’ve even been down the shelter ourselves a couple of times but don’t bother any more.’ Her happy smile faded. ‘Oh… I’d forgotten… You and Ellie were caught in a raid last time you were here. I’m so sorry…’

  ‘It was a long time ago. Thank you so much for the food, I haven’t enjoyed anything so much since I was here last. I’m hoping you’ll let me stay until I’ve sorted out what I’m going to do next. I’ll pay for my keep…’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, lad, you’re a son to us, you’re family. It doesn’t matter how long you stay – this is your home.’

  Jack had got the hang of undressing one handed and it didn’t take that much longer than it had done when he’d been able bodied. He didn’t bother with pyjamas. Just being able to sleep in clean sheets knowing he wouldn’t be tumbling out of bed and racing for his aircraft at any moment was great.

  He half smiled in the darkness. Jimmy had said not long before the crash that he’d give his right arm to be back in Blighty. Jack had given his left arm and he still wasn’t convinced the sacrifice had been worth it. A lot of the guys he’d flown with wouldn’t survive until the end of the war. The mortality rate in the RAF was horrific. He must try and be glad he wasn’t going to be a name on the list of fatalities.

  Twenty-Nine

  October 1941, Hamble

  Ellie’s delivery chit this morning was to take a Spit to Ternhill. She scrambled into the cockpit, buckled up and did her preflight check. The Merlin engine thrummed powerfully. She signalled she was ready to go and the chocks were pulled away. The Spitfire was nose heavy on the ground and it didn’t do to overuse the brakes.

  She soared into the air. Every time she flew one of these aircraft she thanked the powers that be she’d been given leave to do so. It was a joy to fly, responsive, fast and exhilarating. The first time she’d gone up she’d indulged in a little acrobatic flying but had now got over the initial excitement.

  After an uneventful flight she landed perfectly at the fighter squadron base and climbed out. There was a row of pilots lounging on the grass waiting to be scrambled and they greeted her with wolf whistles and exuberant waves. She was used to this response and returned the gesture with nonchalance.

  The Hamble all female ferry pool had been formed from the nucleus of experienced pilots. Veterans one might say. Every week women were added to this group having just completed the comprehensive courses at the ATA training school.

  An Anson taxi dropped in to pick her up and return her to base. Amanda was waiting for her as they shared digs a mile away. They both had dilapidated bicycles as the cottage was so remote they would never have got a lift from there.

  ‘Have you heard anything else from Jack?’

  ‘No, he must be back but obviously doesn’t want to see me. I’m going to take your advice and start going out. There’s a party tomorrow night at that huge house we cycle past every day. Everyone at Hamble has been invited.’ She wobbled dangerously as her wheel dropped into a rut and almost somersaulted over the handlebars. Once she was stable again she continued. ‘If you’re not seeing Rodney, will you come with me?’

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. I wish we could put on an evening gown. It’s hard to feel glamorous, even in this uniform, especially when other women will be looking so elegant.’

  ‘I shall wear a skirt and silk stockings, that’s quite elaborate enough for me.’

  ‘Let’s hope we don’t have an overnight stop and miss it.’

  ‘We both have our days off starting tomorrow evening and ops always try to get us back for that.’

  Amanda hopped off her bike and leaned it drunkenly against the fence. ‘We’ve both been stranded by bad weather, but the Met reports for the next few days are good.’

  They had been fortunate to get this cottage to themselves. The owner had moved to Canada for the duration and was renting it out to ATA girls. The only drawback to this was that they had to find time to shop, do their own laundry, and prepare their meals. Someone came in once a week to clean so that was one job they didn’t have to do.

  As they were civilians they were as restricted by the rationing as everyone else. There was a farm at the end of the lane where they could get milk, eggs and butter, but for everything else they had to rely on the mobile shop that came to the end of the lane three times a week.

  ‘Omelettes again tonight, Amanda, but we can have stewed apples and cream for pudding.’

  It was Ellie’s turn to cook this week and her friend had to do the laundry and ironing. Rotating the jobs was working well so far. She was rather enjoying the independence as it was the first time she’d had to look after herself.