The Ops Room Girls

by Vicki Beeby

  But she suddenly remembered his evasive reply when she’d asked him if he’d been wounded when his plane had been damaged. Nothing more than a scratch, he’d said. Come to think of it, he did look pale. She felt a twinge of guilt at the long walk she’d led him on.

  She leant forward. ‘Something is wrong. You said you weren’t hurt much, but that means you were wounded. Are you here on sick leave?’

  Alex fiddled with his spoon. When he looked at her, he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘Do you think the MO would let me fly if I’d been badly wounded?’

  ‘No. But he would if he thought you needed a rest and it was the only way to get you off the station.’ A muscle in his cheek flinched, and she knew she’d hit home. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? What happened to you?’

  Alex sighed. ‘Honestly, it’s not bad, but I took a bullet in my left arm. Just a flesh wound. But I can’t – Bob Law thought it best if I stayed off the station until I’m passed fit for active duty.’

  Evie eyed him doubtfully. He still seemed to be paying more attention to his spoon than her. He was hiding something, she was sure. Something even worse than a bullet to the arm. She studied his face. Now she was looking, she could see the traces of strain in the lines around his mouth and eyes. She could almost say he appeared haunted. If only he would confide in her, but she had no idea how to make him talk. It brought home to her that in some ways she didn’t know him at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A waitress came to take their order, and by the time she had gone, the moment had passed. Evie couldn’t help fretting about it for a while, but then something else happened that drove it from her mind.

  A stir at an adjacent table caught her attention, and she glanced up to see none other than Julia Harris sitting down opposite a horse-faced woman who must be her mother.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ she muttered before she could stop herself.

  Alex looked up in surprise. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Evie answered in an undertone. ‘Don’t look now, but the girl who made my school life a misery has just sat down at the next table.’ It seemed she was doomed to bump into Julia whenever she came into Oxford. When Alex made a move to look, Evie clutched his arm. ‘I said don’t look!’ Alex opened his mouth, but Evie cut off any questions. ‘Not here. I’ll tell you all about it when we leave.’

  The waitress arrived with their food at that point, so it wasn’t difficult to distract Alex by asking about his meal. However, Julia was positioned in Evie’s line of sight, so she couldn’t help noticing her nemesis, and what she saw filled her with glee. Julia shot Alex several looks and, judging from the way she let her gaze linger, found Alex very attractive. Evie had to agree. Alex was breathtakingly good looking, with his strong brows, tousled hair and athletic build. But with the additional glamour that clung to all RAF pilots, it made for an irresistible mix. Best of all, Julia’s glance had flicked in Evie’s direction once or twice, and it was clear she didn’t recognise her.

  At the end of the meal, Evie excused herself to visit the powder room. As she walked past Julia’s table, Julia glanced up, looked away, then did a double-take, eyes wide. ‘Evie? Evie Bishop?’

  Evie paused, and felt the same palpitations and clammy hands that always afflicted her when she bore the brunt of Julia’s attention. But then she seemed to hear Jess, whispering, ‘Chin up, Evie. You’ve proved you’re worth twenty of her, and you look wonderful.’ In her other ear, May was saying, ‘You’re the truest friend anyone could hope for. If she doesn’t like you, it’s because she’s jealous.’ And suddenly she didn’t care what Julia thought of her. She had two of the best friends in the world. Julia’s opinion was nothing compared to theirs.

  She straightened her back and gave Julia a cool smile. ‘Oh, hello, Julia. Fancy meeting you here.’

  With a brief nod to Julia’s mother, she made to leave, but a touch on her arm stopped her. It was Alex. ‘You’re looking tired, darling,’ he said. He turned so his face was hidden from the Harrises and gave her a flicker of a wink. ‘I’ve arranged for you to have a coffee in the lounge while I fetch the Lagonda.’

  Evie wanted to squeal with laughter as she strode to the powder room, chin in the air, aware of Julia’s eyes boring into her back. To cap it all, Alex returned and was helping her into the Lagonda just when Julia walked out of the door. The look on Julia’s face was one she’d treasure for the rest of her life. Her habitual haughty expression had been replaced by one of pure, purse-lipped envy.

  Evie gave Julia a cheery wave as the luxury car pulled away from the kerb. ‘Lovely to see you, Julia.’

  She and Alex were still laughing as they sped over Magdalen Bridge and headed towards Cowley. She knew she would never again feel inferior in the presence of Julia or any other bully, and she had Jess, May and Alex to thank for it.

  * * *

  The next morning was as warm and clear as the last. Perfect for flying. Alex did his best to push that thought from his mind as he followed Evie’s directions and drove up the narrow lane to the top of Shotover Hill. After the bustle of the city the day before, they’d both wanted to go somewhere quieter today. But reminders of the war followed them even to this tranquil part of England. A Hurricane bearing lines of bullet holes along its fuselage was limping into the CRU at the Cowley Works when they drove past, and a strong military presence at Shotover House revealed that it was now being used as a prisoner of war camp. Evie’s mother had warned them that they might not be allowed up Shotover Hill, as sometimes there were military exercises up there, but to his relief, all was quiet when he parked in a layby at the top of the hill and turned off the engine. The only noise was the cooing of wood pigeons and the gentle hiss of the breeze through the trees.

  Evie had brought along a picnic blanket and had offered to make sandwiches, but Alex had come prepared. Remembering Mrs Bishop’s embarrassment over her lack of food, he had managed to get a hamper made up at the hotel. He lifted the basket out of the boot and followed Evie out onto the hillside where she spread the blanket in the shade of the hedgerow. It was too early to eat, but neither wanted to walk. They lay back on the blanket and let the peace wash over them. Evie wasn’t wearing her uniform today, but a light short-sleeved dress in green cotton with white polka dots. It was slightly frayed at the hem, but she would have been beautiful even dressed in rags. Evie radiated an aura of calm, and, after yesterday’s triumph over that despicable school bully, she seemed to have grown in confidence.

  Although he knew he needed to talk, he felt no sense of urgency. Instead he lay back and watched the clouds scud overhead, listening to the birdsong, watching the sway of wheat and barley in the patchwork of fields stretching out below them. The occasional roar of a motor engine only served to make him aware of the peace of this particular spot, away from the bustle of the city at the bottom of the hill.

  A lark flung its exultant song into the air above his head. He squinted against the sun’s glare. Finally, he found it, a tiny fluttering speck against the sky’s expanse. He followed it with his eyes as it swooped and trilled.

  ‘That’s how I feel when I’m flying.’ The words came unbidden. He kept his eyes on the lark, but he was speaking to Evie, willing her to understand. ‘Everything else falls away. There’s just the feeling of lightness, of being removed from the troubles of the world.’ This was what he had tried and failed to say yesterday. Surrounded by the noise of the city, he hadn’t been able to find the words.

  He heard Evie catch her breath, knew without looking that her attention was fixed upon him. It was easier to speak his heart without looking at her, so he kept his gaze upon the lark. ‘Of course, in combat it’s different. There’s the knowledge that I could die.’ He paused, unsure how to express what he knew deep down but had never put into words before. ‘I don’t hate the men I’m fighting, but they’ve been sent to destroy us and break down our defences, and I can’t allow that to happen.’

  He hadn’t come here with the intention of sharing his
innermost thoughts with Evie. He’d meant to tell her he loved her. But now he understood that before he told her she had his heart, it was vital she understood and accepted all the feelings it harboured.

  His voice sank to little more than a whisper, and he studied his hands, unable to look at Evie. ‘But when I’m back on the ground it’s different. They follow me, the men I’ve killed. I don’t know if I’ll ever be free of them.’

  Evie gave a choked sob, and he twisted to look at her. He’d half-expected to see an expression of revulsion, that she wouldn’t be able to be friends with a man who had so much blood on his hands. Instead, her eyes brimmed with tears. Her mouth was pulled tight, but that couldn’t conceal the way her lips trembled. ‘It isn’t fair.’ Her voice quivered with suppressed emotion.

  ‘I… Why?’ Of all the responses he’d expected, this hadn’t crossed his mind.

  ‘That you should be the one to shoulder all the guilt. You and all the other pilots fighting to save us. But we all play our part.’

  ‘You don’t bear any guilt.’

  ‘Why not?’ She laid a gentle hand over his, making him draw a sharp breath at the surge of heat that flowed up his arm. ‘We’re told enough times that we all play a vital part in Britain’s defence. Everyone. The top brass who decide which station should deal with incoming enemy aircraft; the controllers who send out the squadrons; even me.’ She dashed the tears from her eyes and gave him a level stare. ‘I plot the positions of the incoming German flights. If it wasn’t for me, and all the WAAFs and servicemen along the chain, you wouldn’t be in the right place to intercept them. You might be the one who shoots a plane out of the sky, but we put you there. If you feel guilty, so should we.’

  ‘Do you feel guilty?’ It had never occurred to him that anyone other than the pilots who fired their guns or dropped bombs should feel tainted by the deaths.

  Her eyes focused on a point far in the distance. ‘No. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but no. I’m always relieved and grateful when one of our squadrons stops enemy aircraft from getting through.’ Her gaze sharpened as it settled on his face. ‘And you shouldn’t feel guilty either. If you didn’t stop them, they would kill you, kill servicemen and women on the ground. Kill innocent women and children.’ She squeezed his hand, and the breath left his lungs. ‘I know it’s different for you. You see the faces of the pilots you’re shooting down.’

  He nodded, swallowing against the sudden thickness in his throat. ‘And see them burst into flames, knowing those inside are burning alive.’

  Her eyebrows twitched as if she were struck by sudden pain, but she didn’t move her gaze from his face, nor did she take away the hand that covered his own.

  It was this acceptance, this total lack of judgement that released the unseen grip on his heart. It was as though a huge weight had rolled away from his shoulders. A weight he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone, leaving him feeling so light he felt he might float away.

  ‘I’m so sorry you have to do it,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m grateful you do.’

  He gave his head a slight shake in wonder. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’ He cleared his throat to dispel the slight huskiness in his voice.

  Evie looked away, blushing.

  This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Sharing his burden of horror and experiencing nothing but compassion in return freed the words he had suppressed. ‘Evie, I… What I said yesterday was true. I cannae offer you more than the here and now, and I don’t expect anything in return from you. But I want you to know how I feel. Want you to know I love you.’

  Her blush deepened, and she swallowed. ‘I—’ Her voice cracked, and she broke off, biting her lip.

  A lurch of dismay shook him. She appeared to be on the brink of tears. ‘I’m sorry. Forget I said it.’

  But she shook her head and to his relief he saw she was smiling. ‘How can I forget something that’s made me so happy?’

  He released a shaky breath. ‘Happy? Really?’

  She nodded her head so vigorously a lock of hair slid free from the elegant roll at her temple and into her eye. He reached out and brushed it behind her ear. She trembled as his fingers grazed her cheek, and she lowered her eyelids, the bronze lashes shadowing her blue eyes.

  He couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.

  * * *

  Evie gasped against his lips. It was the first time she’d been kissed. Although she’d imagined kissing Alex, she’d never known what to expect. Certainly not this flood of heat, this fluttering in her chest as though a thousand butterflies were making a bid for escape. She slid her arm around his neck, ran her hand across his broad shoulders, scarcely daring to believe that this was really happening. Alex loved her! He wanted to be with her just as much as she longed to be near him. But when she slid her hand down his arm, relishing the firm muscle beneath her fingers, he flinched and drew back.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, worried to see he’d turned a shade paler.

  ‘Nothing.’ But the corner of his mouth was pulled down in a grimace.

  Her hand flew to her mouth when she realised. ‘Your arm! I’m so sorry.’

  He nodded. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not bad, I was just…unprepared.’

  She apologised again, feeling helpless. Then she spied the hamper, still unopened.

  ‘Let’s have a drink.’ She unpacked the basket, marvelling at how Alex had managed to put together such a feast with rationing on. There were sandwiches – a swift inspection revealed labels, showing them to be a mixture of smoked salmon and ox tongue. Evie eased up the corner of a foil-covered package and found four large slabs of fruit cake that looked so moist her mouth started to water. Last but not least, two bottles of beer and two of ginger beer were packed into the corners, wedged with linen napkins. Glasses were strapped inside the lid, so she freed them and poured them each a drink. The action gave her a moment to compose herself after the kiss. She felt as though her cheeks must be burning, and her lips felt swollen and aching. But she felt light and happy. Alex loved her. They would work out how it would affect them at the station later. For now, she wanted to revel in the knowledge that her feelings were returned. She had the momentous feeling that from now on her life would be divided into the time before this day and the time after it.

  She handed Alex his glass and felt her blush grow hotter when their fingers met. She settled herself back on the blanket, taking care to sit on Alex’s right side to avoid bumping his injured arm. ‘Feeling better?’

  He pulled her to his side. ‘I feel wonderful.’

  She snuggled against him and rested her head against his shoulder. Then she shot upright, remembering that in her consternation at causing Alex pain, she hadn’t told him how she felt. She gasped and sat up. ‘I…I do love you, too. That is, if you still want an idiot who punches you right over a wound.’

  Before she could say any more, Alex leaned in and kissed her again.

  This time it wasn’t Evie’s carelessness that broke the kiss, but the roar of a Merlin engine. They both pulled away to look up at the low-flying Spitfire that roared overhead, so low Evie was surprised it didn’t hit the treetops. Like the Hurricane she’d seen flying over Cowley, the fuselage was riddled with bullet holes.

  ‘Another one for the CRU,’ Alex said, his expression grim.

  He must be thinking the same thing as Evie. Wondering how the pilots of Amberton were faring while Evie and Alex were enjoying Oxford’s cocoon of tranquillity. She felt a stab of resentment towards the unknown Spitfire pilot for shattering it. They watched the Spitfire until it had flown out of sight, heading, as Alex had deduced, in the direction of the Civilian Repair Unit at Cowley. But when the noise had died away, leaving nothing but the gentle twitter of birds and the skirling of the larks, it was clear Alex couldn’t recapture their earlier peace. He drank his beer, glancing more frequently at the sky than her. Evie remembered his distraction of the previous d
ay and her conviction that something was bothering him beyond his wound.

  ‘I wonder how everyone is getting on at Amberton,’ she said, wishing she could think of a way to get him to confide in her. ‘I feel guilty being up here with nothing to do when Jess and all the other WAAFs are slaving in Ops with hardly a break.’

  ‘You’ve been ill. You need time to recover or you’d crack up.’

  ‘So do you.’

  He frowned, but she pressed on, hoping this way she could break through to uncover the trouble bothering him. ‘The squadron can survive a few days without you, but they’d be much worse off if you were killed because you started flying again before you were fully fit.’

  ‘It’ll be far worse for them if I don’t—’ He broke off, his eyes wide in alarm. He took a drink of beer. Evie was shocked to see his hand shook.

  ‘If you don’t what?’ she asked. ‘Alex, what’s happened?’

  He closed his eyes for a moment and blew out a breath. ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it.’

  The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘If I tell you, you must keep it to yourself. The only other people who know are Bob Law and Sergeant Rawlins, my fitter.’

  A prickle of foreboding crept down the back of her neck. ‘Why? What’s happened? I mean, I won’t tell anyone if it’s that serious.’

  ‘It is.’ Evie waited impatiently while Alex took another sip of beer. He drained the glass and placed it on the blanket before sitting straight and facing her with grave eyes. ‘The reason I was injured was because my Hurricane was sabotaged.’

  It was as though a cloud had moved over the sun, draining the heat and colour from the day. ‘What? How?’ She took a sip of her own beer to moisten her mouth which had grown suddenly dry.

  ‘Matchsticks in my gun airfeeds.’

  Evie shook her head. ‘What would that do?’

  ‘Stops them from firing. My guns jammed. I had a Dornier in my sights – a sitting duck. I tried to fire, but nothing. Then a couple of 109s got on my tail and all hell broke loose.’