The Spitfire Girls

by Soraya M. Lane

  ‘Welcome to our newest volunteers!’

  Ruby turned as the room fell silent, and watched as May Jones herself walked towards the large desk in the corner. Her dark-blue dress uniform fitted her like a glove; the jacket was tailored to her frame and fit her perfectly and her tie was snug to her shirt. Something about seeing a woman so feminine yet so full of authority filled Ruby with both anticipation and fear, but the one thing she was certain about was that she wanted to wear that exact same uniform. And she’d do so brimming with pride.

  ‘We need to get the basics out of the way first, so you’ll all be having your medical check today, followed by an interview with me. I personally confirm with each new recruit that you’ve passed our tests, and our aim is to train you and get you in the air as soon as we possibly can.’ She paused and took a quick sip of water, but Ruby still couldn’t take her eyes off her. ‘Once all that is out of the way, you will commence with ground school, which will cover everything from meteorology, map-reading, mechanics, navigation and so forth, and then you will progress to dual and then solo flights in the good old Tiger Moth. From there, you’ll be required to fly a number of cross-country flights along fixed routes before being assigned to your ferry pool.’

  May’s dark gaze was steady as she appeared to study the room, her manner as perfectly composed as her uniform. The hopeful candidates all stared back at her.

  ‘You’re all doing something amazing by being here today, and I’m proud of every single one of you for volunteering for this role. If you have any questions, please ask me at your interview, and I’ll be more than happy to discuss anything flying-related.’

  Ruby expected someone else to take over now that the introduction was complete, but it was May herself who ushered a doctor into the room. She watched her check all the blinds were properly closed and then nod to the doctor, moving towards the front of the room to lock the door as they all looked on, wide-eyed like children who weren’t sure what to expect. Her dark hair was cropped shorter than Ruby had imagined it would be – much shorter than the original photos she’d seen of her – and she wore barely a scrap of make-up, so she was much more serious-looking in real life. But she was pretty in a classic kind of way, with eyes as dark as her hair, full arched brows and a wide mouth.

  ‘Ladies, this is Dr Arthur Barbour, the chief medic here at White Waltham, and you’ll come to know him as Doc.’

  He held up his hand in a wave and bowed to them. ‘Ladies, it’s a pleasure. I’ll be doing our standard medical check today, so please come forward in an orderly fashion.’

  Ruby followed him with her eyes as he set up in the corner of the room, pulling out a curtain attached to a metal pole. Not one of the women moved, including her.

  ‘Who’s first? I promise I won’t bite,’ he joked, although no one laughed back.

  Ruby looked around, but still no one volunteered. She counted to five in her head, hoping someone else would speak up, and when nothing happened she slowly raised her shaking hand and gulped down her nerves.

  ‘Um, ah, I’ll go,’ she said, clearing her throat and forcing herself to close the distance between herself and the doctor.

  Doc’s smile was wide as he looked her up and down, and Ruby suddenly wished she hadn’t been so forthcoming. ‘You’ll find that my care for my pilots is second to none,’ he said, his Scottish accent sounding friendly as he touched the small of her back, propelling her forward. ‘If you’d please go behind the curtain and remove all your clothes, we can begin.’

  Ruby’s feet turned to lead. ‘Excuse me?’ she stuttered as heat flooded her cheeks. No clothes? She couldn’t take her clothes off in front of a man!

  ‘Your examination must be done naked. We have the same rules for men and women, no exceptions. I’m sorry, love.’

  She turned to look at the women waiting in a group behind her, but the only one to meet her gaze was May. She walked forward, no doubt knowing precisely why Ruby was so ill at ease.

  ‘It’ll be over in no time,’ May said briskly. ‘I can be present if you’d prefer another woman . . .’

  ‘No! No, I’ll be fine,’ Ruby said, regaining her composure. The only thing worse than the doctor seeing her naked would be having May herself watching on! ‘It just took me by surprise, that’s all.’ She’d never been naked in front of a man before, not even their own family doctor. But if this was part of the job, it was part of the job, and she could either follow orders or get on the next train home.

  Doc gestured again for her to disappear behind the curtain and she followed his instruction without hesitation this time, quickly taking off her clothes and folding them in a neat pile on the chair.

  ‘Ready,’ she called out.

  He entered, and her face and neck burnt hot as his gaze swept quickly up then down, but she refused to do anything other than look straight ahead, no matter how tempting it was to cross her legs tightly and wrap her arms across her breasts.

  Ruby endured the touching and prodding, the opening of her mouth and the eye check, and wondered why on earth she had to be naked for such a consultation. Couldn’t she have kept her undergarments on, at least? If she were braver she’d have said something, but she couldn’t have uttered a word if she’d tried.

  Once it was finally over, and she felt more like he’d asked her to strip down to nothing for his own pleasure than out of any genuine medical need, she waited for Doc to leave her and blew out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Was that it? Had she passed? She was sure there was nothing wrong with her – no illnesses or disabilities – and her eyesight had always been excellent.

  ‘Next, please,’ she heard Doc request as she hastily pulled her clothes back on, not wanting the curtain to be drawn back to reveal her half-naked body to the rest of the girls.

  Once dressed and back out in the room, Ruby took in the wide-eyed expressions of the other girls and felt pleased she’d got it over and done with. She cast a quick look at Polly and smiled, hoping she could tell that it hadn’t been so bad.

  ‘Miss Sanders, would you please follow me,’ May requested.

  Ruby jumped to attention and followed the woman she hoped was about to become her commander as she walked outside.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she replied hurriedly, falling into step beside her.

  ‘No need for such formalities – we all work together here, and I’d prefer you to call me May.’

  Ruby nodded. ‘I appreciate that. And you’re to call me Ruby, of course.’

  ‘Well, can I start by saying how pleased I was to receive your application,’ May said, her expression hard to decipher as she stopped a short distance from the building and turned to face her. ‘My only disappointment is that you didn’t think to make contact with us earlier.’

  ‘I should have, I know, but you all seemed so . . .’ Ruby took a deep breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I honestly wasn’t sure if I was good enough, after hearing how talented you all are.’ She sighed. ‘I’m here now, though, and I’d very much like to be of assistance.’

  ‘Indeed,’ May said, seemingly unconcerned by her falter in confidence. ‘I’m going to sit down and talk more closely with the other recruits, but I wanted to talk to you more directly and out of earshot.’

  Ruby’s heart beat a little faster. ‘I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve any special attention,’ she said, but the moment the words left her lips she wondered if she’d been singled out because she was about to be sent home. ‘Oh gosh, did I fail somehow already? Is that why you want to talk to me?’

  ‘No! Oh no, it’s nothing to worry about,’ May said, finally cracking a small smile. ‘Ruby, whether you believe it or not, you’re one of the most capable and experienced pilots to apply in quite some time – well, on paper, at least. That’s why I processed your application immediately.’

  Ruby let the words sink in, surprised. ‘I’m more than happy to fly with you now, if you need to see my ability,’ she offered. ‘I have no interest in ove
rselling my skills as a pilot. I mean, I’ve only been flying for a few years and . . .’

  ‘Stop,’ May interrupted her. ‘I don’t want to hear you underselling yourself.’ She gestured back towards the brick building. ‘Those girls in there – they’ll make great pilots if they have the will to succeed, and one or two of them have flown before. But it’s going to take time to train the rest of them, time we don’t necessarily have. One of the girls doesn’t even have a licence to drive a car yet, and another has left her job as a professional ballet dancer to join us. They want to be here and I want to have them, but I need someone to join our Class II or Class III ferry pool that I can rely on.’ She sighed. ‘Almost immediately, in fact.’

  ‘You don’t have enough pilots in that division?’ Ruby asked, confused.

  ‘We did have enough, and now we don’t,’ May said, her disappointment clear. ‘I’ve lost two of them just today. One is pregnant and had to be sent home, and the other simply didn’t have the nerve for it. We don’t have many girls leave once they’ve finished their training, so here’s hoping today isn’t the tide turning on my programme.’

  ‘So you don’t, well, lose any in the air?’ Ruby asked, stumbling over her own tongue. Fear gripped her at the realisation that this wasn’t flying for fun.

  May’s eyes met hers, and the commander tightened her lips. ‘No – well, at least not yet. We’ve been lucky so far and I pray every day that the odds stay in our favour. We have to fly planes back from bases when they’re marked as unserviceable, just to get them back to the wrecker’s yards, and we have to fly every day without instruments or radios, so all my girls need to be vigilant and capable. We’re a country at war, which means we’re in danger every time we fly.’

  When Ruby signed up, she’d known the risks; but hearing that no woman had yet died in the sky with the ATA was heartening, even if the lack of instruments and radios wasn’t. She cursed the familiar, nervous shake of her hands and she clasped them tightly, hoping May hadn’t noticed.

  May took a step closer, studying her face. ‘Tell me why you want to fly for us, Ruby. What made you write to me after seeing our advertisement?’ Her expression was serious. ‘Is it your sense of duty, your love of flying, or both?’

  ‘Honestly, I read the advertisement and it hit me right here,’ Ruby replied, fist to her heart. ‘Flying is what I love most in the world, and since the war I’ve been grounded. The closest I get to it is reading my fiancé’s letters about his work as an RAF pilot, and I’m sick of sitting around when I could be doing something truly useful, when I could be doing my part to help our boys instead of sorting mail and making cups of tea. Flying to me is like breathing, it’s just . . .’

  May’s smile had a warmth that had been missing until then. ‘You just want to get back in the damn plane, am I right?’

  Ruby laughed. ‘I suppose it takes a pilot to know one.’

  May held out her hand and grasped Ruby’s, palm to palm, fingers warm against hers.

  ‘Ruby Sanders, will you do me the honour of joining the ATA? I want you up there flying every kind of plane we have before those other girls are even in a Moth, and within a few months I’d like to put you forward for Class V conversion so you can fly those four-engine bombers that every RAF squadron is so desperate for. Your record is impeccable and I believe that you’re exactly what we’ve been looking for.’

  ‘You’re certain? Gosh, I feel like I should be asking for your autograph,’ Ruby stammered, hardly able to believe the conversation she’d just had. And a four-engine bomber? ‘Are you sure, are . . .’

  ‘I’m no different to you,’ May cut in. ‘The only difference is that I’ve been doing this for longer and I was one of the first in the sky. Before long you’ll have equalled my number of flights, and I’ll be the one asking for your autograph.’

  ‘I . . . I’d love to join you,’ Ruby managed, finally voicing her answer even though her knees were knocking and she wanted desperately to tell May all the reasons she shouldn’t be hiring her. ‘Whatever you need me to do, the answer is yes.’ She folded her hands together, excitement building as she thought about the adventure ahead. Part of her couldn’t wait to write to Tom and tell him all about her new base, the uniform she’d be wearing and the ferry pool she’d been assigned to, but the other part was nervous about sharing her news with him. She’d already written to him when she’d been accepted, but his reply hadn’t reached her yet and she felt anxious, especially in light of what his mother had said.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to assist today?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Just walk tall,’ May said, as they headed back towards the building they’d been in earlier. ‘I don’t want anyone getting all fussy about your height.’

  Ruby gulped and nodded. ‘Will it be a problem?’

  ‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ May muttered, holding the door open for her. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s nothing that a decent cushion on your seat can’t fix.’

  Ruby stifled a laugh. She had a feeling she was going to get on just fine with her new commander, but she still walked into the room as tall as she could to prevent anyone noticing just how short she really was.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ENGLAND, APRIL 1942

  LIZZIE

  It wasn’t very often that Lizzie was taken by surprise, but nothing had quite prepared her for the surge of anticipation that gripped her as their ship sailed closer to England. The four other women, pilots she’d hand-picked to go with her before the others joined the following month, had all enjoyed the crossing. Other than a brief diversion when, in the middle of a lively cocktail party, their captain had received instructions to change course due to submarine activity, the crossing had been uneventful. Well, that and the storm that had had them all heaving and clutching their stomachs.

  It had taken nine days to reach England, and what with the plentiful food, wine and cocktails, and the company not only of her four travelling companions but also the others on board and the highly entertaining crew, she’d had little to complain about.

  She went back inside her cabin to ensure her belongings were all packed, glancing briefly in the small mirror to check her make-up. The last thing she wanted was to arrive looking dreary instead of glamorous, though by all accounts England wasn’t going to be anywhere near as exciting as she’d expected. Her girls had spent the past month living it up in Montreal at the Mount Royal Hotel, and she was certain they’d be envious of the fellow countrywomen they’d left behind, who still had plenty of partying time left. But she’d wanted to get her best fliers here as quickly as possible, because the sooner they made an impression, the sooner she could convince General Hap to give her her own flying squadron back on home soil. She gave her Mae West life vest one last look, the bulky safety device sitting forlornly on her bunk, grateful that she’d never had to get it wet. She still remembered laughing at the captain as he’d explained its name – it was aptly named for the actress’s ample chest.

  Back outside, the gloomy weather did little to dampen her excitement about arriving. She wanted to see what this May Jones had managed to establish here and figure out exactly how to build something bigger and bolder back home. America was at war now, too, and she knew how much women could do to help; and, of course, she longed to be back in the sky. The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor had shocked her deeply, catapulting her country into the conflict, and she was more determined to fly than ever. All the training in Montreal had been good. It had given her girls a real taste of what they’d be facing on the other side of the pond, but now they were ready to put training behind them and help the Allies to win the war. A smile played across her lips as she imagined her first flight, showing off until she had all the ATA pilots standing in the field with their jaws slack. Doing their job and showing how useful women could be to the war effort was why she was here, but she also wanted to show everyone exactly what an American girl was made of.

  ‘You’ve got a strong stomach,’ co
mmented Ann, coming out to join her. Ann was the first pilot Lizzie had chosen and she liked the friendly Southerner, her accent a nice reminder of home. ‘The others are trying not to heave into the ocean.’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘I think perhaps it’s the alcohol from last night and not the boat that’s to blame,’ she said dryly. ‘But I’m sure the fish will enjoy it.’ Her own stomach was heaving, too, but she wasn’t about to let anyone see that.

  Ann grinned back at her and held out a pamphlet.

  ‘What’s that?’ inquired Lizzie.

  ‘Apparently from the US War Department,’ said Ann. ‘Sandy discovered it earlier. I found her in hysterics. Want me to enlighten you on the Instructions for American Servicemen in Britain? I suppose we didn’t qualify for an information pack, given that we’re not servicemen.’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘Go on. I have a feeling this is going to be good.’

  Ann cleared her throat dramatically. ‘Don’t be misled by the British tendency to be soft-spoken and polite,’ she read in a terrible British accent that made Lizzie chuckle. ‘The English language didn’t spread across the oceans and over the mountains and jungles and swamps of the world because these people were panty-waists.’

  Lizzie chortled, wiping at the corners of her eyes as she wondered who on earth had been charged with writing this propaganda. Panty-waists? She wished she could tell her father – he’d be in fits.

  ‘Even more importantly, don’t be a show-off. It says that here in bold,’ Ann told her. ‘The British strongly dislike bragging.’

  ‘Well, honey, they’re not going to like me one bit then, are they?’ remarked Lizzie.

  Her mother might have agreed with that point. She could still see her standing there, pleading with Lizzie not to go, imploring her to be happy with her own plane rather than heading off to prove herself to the world. Lizzie blinked the image away, refusing to let anyone, even her mother, sow seeds of doubt in her head.