‘Squadron Leader Reynolds, I want to speak to the CO.’

  Using his rank had the desired effect and a few moments later a man answered. ‘What can I do for you, Squadron Leader?’

  ‘It’s a courtesy rank now, sir. I was demobbed a couple of months ago. I lost my left arm in Africa, I’m right handed. I’d like to sign up for the ATA if that’s possible. I was a fighter pilot.’

  ‘By Jove, that’s excellent news.’ The CO chuckled. ‘Not losing your arm, my boy, but you wanting to join us. How soon can you get here?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Excellent, excellent. I will arrange for a billet, some of the chaps stay at the local hostelry so I’ll get you a bed there. Call in at Austin Reed in London and order your uniform – it’ll take a couple of months so come in your RAF blue. Do you still have your boots, jacket, et cetera?’

  ‘I do. A friend of mine joined the ATA last year so I know where to go for my uniform. I’ll try and get a flip from Hornchurch to White Waltham.’

  There was the sound of rustling paper. ‘Good show! I’ll give them a ring and let them know you’re coming. We’ve got an Anson that could call in and get you if you can be there just after lunch.’

  ‘I’ll be there. Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Enough of that sir nonsense. I’m George.’

  George disconnected and Jack couldn’t stop smiling. After a miserable few weeks he’d got himself sorted and would soon be flying again. Ellie was based at Hamble and he intended to visit the all female ferry pool as soon as he could borrow a kite. There was bound to be a Moth hanging about somewhere he could use.

  *

  Ellie was waiting in the crew room with the other women for the weather to clear. ‘The rain’s set in for the day, Amanda, I don’t think any of us are going to be working.’ She went to the hatch and spoke to the operations clerk. ‘What’s the Met report? Are you expecting us to fly today?’

  ‘No, typical November weather. Tell the others they don’t have to hang about here but to report back if by some miracle the cloud lifts.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll do that.’

  Ellie passed the message on and the knitting was put away, cards put back in the box and books closed with a bookmark and put on the shelf for next time.

  ‘Why don’t we see if we can catch a lift into Southampton and go to the pictures?’

  ‘I’m going to see if I can get hold of Hugo – he’s usually got access to an RAF vehicle and he could take half a dozen of us into the city.’

  Amanda grabbed her elbow. ‘I don’t think you’re being fair to him, Ellie. I’m sure he’s falling in love with you and you’re using him as a taxi driver and escort.’

  ‘I really like him, but I only met him a few weeks ago and we’ve only been out together three times. Far too soon to be talking about love on either side. He’s good fun, intelligent and handsome and that’s all I want at the moment. We haven’t even kissed.’

  Her friend nodded but didn’t seem convinced. Whilst Ellie waited her turn to use the public telephone she considered her feelings for Hugo. They got on well together but he was overfond of issuing orders and expecting her to fall in with his wishes. The fact that she was a flyer like him didn’t make him view her any differently from a girl who might work in an office for a living.

  In the time it took to be connected she thought about Jack. It had been weeks since his accident and he’d not been in touch with Dad or herself. If she didn’t hear from him by the end of the month she would start making enquiries. Someone in the War Office must know where he was.

  ‘I was hoping you would call me, Ellie, nothing going on here and I assume it’s the same for you at Hamble. I can be there in half an hour – do you want to go into the city?’

  ‘I was hoping you would give a group of us a lift. Then we can do something together. I think there’s a good film we could go and see.’

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ The receiver clattered down and she heard him talking but couldn’t catch what he said. ‘Right, I’m going to requisition the lorry and bring some other chaps. I’ve just been told that there’s a tea dance at one of the hotels. We’ll do that instead. Be at the gate in forty minutes.’

  He disconnected without saying goodbye. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of a noisy crowd or attend a dance of any sort but he’d not given her an opportunity to say so.

  When she announced there was a lorry full of eager RAF officers arriving shortly six other ATA girls asked if they could be included.

  ‘That will make eight of us. It’s going to be a jolly day out. Just what we all need,’ one of the girls said.

  She rang the gate and asked them to keep an eye out for the lorry so they could scamper down there and not keep them waiting. When the call came they were ready with their coats on and umbrellas to hand.

  Hugo had said he was bringing a lorry and he hadn’t been exaggerating. This was one of the vehicles used to transport pilots backwards and forwards to the dispersal area. He was driving and wound the window down. ‘Come round and climb in with me, Ellie, the rest of your friends can go in the back. Won’t be that comfortable, but perfectly dry.’

  A young man with a ridiculous moustache and slicked back hair was climbing out of the passenger seat as she arrived. He held open the door and she scrambled in.

  ‘Golly, this is fun. I hope you can find somewhere to park, I’m not sure where a lorry can go safely.’

  Hugo smiled. ‘There’s a war on, my dear, I shall leave it wherever’s convenient and I can assure you no one will question it.’ He expertly double-declutched and the lorry rocked forward. There were squeals and shouts of laughter coming from the back, which must mean not everyone had been safely seated.

  This didn’t make any difference to him and he laughed and accelerated away. From the merriment in the rear no one was objecting to his behaviour – in fact, the reverse. He glanced across and winked. He really was an attractive man when he was being charming.

  They lurched and swerved their way to town and as promised Hugo parked on an empty bit of kerb adjacent to the hotel in question.

  ‘The dance isn’t until this afternoon so why are we here now?’

  ‘I rang them and they can do us a decent lunch. Then we can have a bit of sing-song around the piano.’

  ‘That sounds splendid. Does one of your friends play?’

  ‘I do.’ He leaned across and opened the door for her. She was perfectly capable of doing this herself. She jumped down and pulled up the collar of her coat. It was tipping it down, the pavement grey and slippery.

  ‘Now, let’s get inside and out of the rain.’ He grabbed her hand and ran leaving her no option but to race along beside him. They burst into the hotel foyer almost giving the ancient doorman a heart attack.

  As she was shaking off the worst of the rain the others arrived and the place was pandemonium for a few minutes. There were seven or possibly eight officers and the eight girls milling about taking off overcoats and shaking them.

  There was no sign of Hugo – then she saw him at the reception desk talking to a flustered woman in smart suit and scraped back hair. The woman was pointing at double doors and he nodded.

  ‘The dining room is this way, folks, lunch will be served in half an hour.’ He hadn’t raised his voice but everyone apparently heard as they obediently started to troop in the direction he’d indicated.

  ‘There seem to be about twenty of us, I hope they can cater for so many at such short notice.’

  ‘I’ve booked for twenty. We are getting steak and kidney pie, seasonal vegetables – whatever they might be – and apple crumble and custard. Hardly gourmet, but it will be perfectly edible I can assure you.’

  ‘Sounds delicious. It’s too long since I had a home cooked meal, if you know what I mean. What I’d really like is coffee. I don’t suppose they have any, do they?’

  He’d allowed everyone else to go in before him and they were already taking their places at the table, even though the meal wasn’t due for a while. The first thing she noticed was the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Two large Georgian silver jugs stood in pride of place on the sideboard. There were also porcelain cups and saucers, sugar lumps with silver tongs and two further silver jugs, one of milk, the other of cream.

  ‘I take it we help ourselves? I’m not going to wait to be served,’ she said and walked briskly to the sideboard. From the noise around the table one would have thought alcohol was involved, but as far as she was aware no one had been drinking. Another loud burst of laughter made her turn her head.

  One of the officers was handing round a hip flask. This accounted for the jollity and she didn’t blame them. They risked their lives every day they flew and deserved to get tiddly whenever they wanted.

  Her oldest brother, Neil, had taught her how to whistle using two fingers in her mouth. She did so now and it had the desired effect. A stunned silence fell and every head turned to stare at her.

  ‘Now I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen, there’s real coffee and decent tea here. I’m not waiting on you – you must come and help yourselves.’

  Hugo strolled up beside her laughing openly. ‘That was magnificent, Ellie, you must show me how to do it, it might well come in useful later on.’ He helped himself to coffee and like her, had no cream or sugar.

  He nodded towards the grand piano that stood at the far end of the room. ‘I’ll play something soothing, calm them down a bit before we eat. Do you sing?’

  ‘Not at all, but I’ll join in anyway.’ She drained a cup and hastily refilled it as the other guests came across to help themselves.

  She perched on the windowsill to listen. Hugo played like a concert pianist. Soon the entire room was silent listening to him in appreciation. She wasn’t sure what he played, possibly Mozart or Bach, whatever it was, it was quite beautiful.

  The food arrived and tasted almost as good as Mabel’s cooking. When they were offered second helpings everybody held up their plate. The apple pie was equally delicious and the custard was homemade, not out of a tin.

  When someone got out a packet of cigarettes after the meal Hugo intervened. ‘In the foyer, Billy old chap, not everyone enjoys the smell of cigarettes.’

  The officer he’d addressed nodded, gave a facsimile of a salute, and wandered amiably out of the room. Several others followed suit. She was certain Hugo had done this for her as he knew she didn’t like the blue fug that filled the room when there were a lot of people smoking.

  The coffee pots had been refilled but not the tea. As she was pouring herself a cup he joined her. ‘Do one for me too, my dear, it’s the perfect end to an excellent meal.’

  ‘We should have asked before we sat down, but how much is this costing? Are you going to pass the hat around or something?’

  He looked shocked. ‘You are our guests. No question that any of you ATA girls are paying.’

  ‘In which case you must let us pay for this afternoon’s tea dance.’ Something flashed in his eyes and she was sure she’d annoyed him. ‘Don’t look so cross, we earn as much as you do. In fact, I think we are the only profession in which men and women are paid the same amount. Either we split both bills or you let us pay for the tea dance.’

  ‘I don’t expect a girl to pay when I invite them out.’

  ‘But you didn’t invite us, we invited you. Don’t be so stuffy. I’m not going to discuss it any further. Are you going to play something we can sing along to? I’m pretty sure that Pamela can play if you don’t want to.’

  He nodded and half smiled. ‘Thoroughly routed, and I deserved it. We will take care of the meal; you girls pay for the tea.’

  ‘Do you know how much it costs per head?’

  ‘Five shillings – that includes afternoon tea as well as the dancing. It’s a pity you are wearing your uniform trousers instead of your skirts. I do love to see a pretty pair of legs whirling around the dance floor.’

  ‘Shall I suggest that we roll them up to the knees? We wouldn’t want to disappoint the boys in blue.’

  He raised his cup in salute and strolled off to the piano. The dance didn’t start until three o’clock – another hour at least. This would mean they would be driving back in the blackout, in the rain, in the winter. For some reason she really didn’t care. This was the most enjoyable day she’d had since Greg had died and she wanted it to last as long as possible.

  Thirty-One

  Jack called in at Austin Reed to be measured for his new uniform. ‘I understand it will take several weeks to complete.’

  ‘No, sir, you’re in luck. We’ve just had a delivery of material and can get it done immediately. If you don’t require a second fitting we can have it sent to you at the end of next week wherever you’re going to be based.’

  ‘White Waltham, as far as I know. Yes, please parcel it up and send it to me there.’

  The assistant took all the usual measurements and then stopped. ‘I would suggest, Squadron Leader Reynolds, that you have the arm of your left sleeve made shorter. I think you would find that easier to manage.’

  ‘Good idea, I hadn’t thought of that. Can you do the same with the shirts?’

  ‘It will be done. I remember that you came in here with your young lady when she joined the ATA a while ago. It’s a pleasure to be taking care of you now, sir.’

  Jack didn’t correct the assumption that he was Ellie’s young man – he hoped he would be when he eventually saw her again. He would wait until he had his uniform as it was going to be done so speedily.

  He left the shop feeling better than he had since God knows when. He was going to be doing something useful again, not spend the remainder of the war on the scrapheap like some other poor sods he knew.

  When he arrived at the gate at Hornchurch he was waved past, didn’t even have to identify himself. His empty sleeve was quite visible, but he was still in the uniform and the insignia of his rank was quite clear.

  He reported to the adjutant and was greeted like an old friend even though he’d never been there before. ‘You’re in luck, there are a couple of ATA girls waiting for the Anson to drop in and collect them. It’s going to Hamble first and then onto White Waltham.’

  ‘Bit of a detour from here to Southampton and then back to Oxford.’

  ‘Piece of cake for these chaps. The Anson is wanted at Waltham tomorrow so makes sense to do it that way.’

  ‘Great, where should I wait?’ Was it possible one of the girls could be Ellie? This wasn’t how he’d intended their first meeting to be, but half of him hoped it was her and the other half that it wasn’t.

  ‘In the Officers’ Mess. They wait in there.’

  ‘You don’t happen to know their names, do you? I know some of the ATA pilots.’

  ‘I’m hopeless with names, but one is a petite blonde and the other a redhead. Does that help?’

  ‘It does, thank you, neither of them sounds familiar.’

  He decided it might be wiser not to mix with them as they might mention they had spent time with a red headed, one armed, squadron leader who was joining the ATA himself. Ellie would immediately recognise the description and he would rather see her face to face so he could gauge her reaction to his disability.

  He wandered outside and the first thing he saw was the red, white and blue bicycle Ellie had painted for Greg the Christmas before last. He had one, painted red and black, that he’d abandoned at Kenley.

  Having a bicycle would make life so much easier and he decided to bring Neil’s with him when he went. He was amazed the bike was still there and functioning. He hefted it up with his one hand, and then swung his leg over the crossbar.

  Cycling with a kitbag across your back was precarious, but after wobbling dangerously for a few yards he got the hang of it. He pedalled around the apron until he spotted the Anson coming into land. These kites were used as taxis to take the ATA pilots back and forth and save them having to endure the horrors of the trains.

  An erk lifted the cycle into the aircraft for him. He could have done it himself, but the ground engineer was eager to help and he didn’t like to stop him. This meant he was safely installed at the rear of the plane when the two girls scrambled in.

  They stopped to collect another girl and two blokes and then flew directly to Hamble. The two guys remained where they were.

  ‘What’s the next stop?’ He yelled over the engine noise.

  ‘Waltham.’

  ‘Great. That’s where I’m going.’

  This time the two middle aged ATA men manhandled his bicycle out of the Anson. They waited for him to join them on the tarmac. ‘Are you joining us here? Simon Billings, and this is Frank Rhodes.’

  ‘Jack Reynolds. This bicycle belonged to a good friend of mine who went for a Burton last year. I’m going to be billeted at the pub and thought this might be handy for getting backwards and forwards.’

  ‘Like bloody gold dust, old man, but at least no one can claim it as theirs.’

  Frank wheeled the bike for him and on the walk to the office he gave them a potted version of his flying history up until that point.

  ‘Ah! That explains why you sound a bit like a Yank,’ Simon said. ‘A colourful history, but I think there are one or two chaps who can outdo that.’

  They left him to find his own way into the administration block. He’d learned they were both married and lived locally. Whether this was fortuitous, or they’d moved their families here for convenience, he’d no idea.

  After filling in a dozen or so forms he was officially a member of the ATA. He was told to report at eight o’clock the following morning. The ATA now ran an excellent training programme at this pool and he was going to be put through his paces.

  He thought he would just be flying fighters, but they thought he might eventually be able to manage a Mosquito, an Anson, and possibly one of the smaller bombers like a Beaufighter or a Blenheim. Unless he had someone with him he wouldn’t be able to do that one handed. He was to return for further instruction after he proved himself delivering Hurricanes and Spitfires. He was so pleased with his progress that he began to believe he could fly anything, even a four engine kite as long as he had a flight engineer with him to raise and lower the undercarriage and put the flaps down when needed.