by Garry Ryan
Don’t take your foul mood out on him. She ducked under the wing and pushed the leading edge as they guided the Hurricane back into the hangar.
“Thanks.” The mechanic took a couple of deep breaths. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but mine are. . .” He displayed his oil-stained hands to her and began to wipe them with a rag he pulled out of the back pocket of his coveralls.
Sharon heard the sound of uneven footfalls and creaking leather.
“Where the hell is the other Hurricane? I told Group I needed two!”
The mechanic blanched.
Sharon turned to face a squadron leader who stumped across the floor by swinging his legs around in a close approximation of walking. He stopped and stood there, his feet apart and his fists on his hips. “Well? Where the hell is the other one?”
“Just the one so far, sir.” The mechanic stood at attention.
The Squadron leader looked at Sharon. “Who the hell are you, somebody’s girlfriend?”
“The pilot.” Sharon felt her face turning red, and smiled when she sensed a fight brewing.
“What’s your name?”
Enough of this. “Who the hell are you?”
The squadron leader turned his head to one side as though looking down a gun sight and glared at her. “Douglas Bader!”
“Sharon Lacey!” Sharon glared right back.
“Well, where is the other Hurricane?” Bader asked.
“How the hell would I know?” Sharon took a step forward and crossed her arms.
Bader threw his head back and laughed. The bellow filled the inside of the hangar.
The mechanic chuckled. To Sharon’s ears, it sounded like nervous relief.
“You the same Sharon Lacey who shot down five in one day?” Bader asked.
Shit, everyone at an airfield seems to have heard about it. “That’s right.”
“Bloody marvelous! News travels fast around the squadrons when it comes to pilots and their scores. Your story in particular has lots of people wagging their tongues. The best I’ve ever done is two in one day. Join me for a cup of tea.”
“Make it coffee,” Sharon said.
“Have it your way! Come along, then.” Bader swung around and began clumping his way out of the hangar.
Sharon had to hurry to keep up.
“I saw you land. You’ve got the touch. Where are you from?” Bader asked.
“Canada.”
“Where in Canada?” He huffed as he hurried along.
“Calgary.”
Bader stopped and turned. “Same town Willie McKnight is from! He’s a hell of a pilot, too!” He started up again and led the way to the canteen. As he walked through the open tent flap, he said, “A cup of coffee for Sharon here and tea for me.”
Within minutes, a group of pilots had gathered around Bader’s table, and he was introducing Sharon. “Go on, tell them about how you downed five in one day,” Bader said.
Sharon looked at the coffee in her cup. How the hell did I get myself into this situation? “I don’t think anyone would be interested in that.”
Stan, another Canadian, said, “You thought wrong.”
So she told them the story.
Eric said, “You just lined them up and let the bullets fall into their cockpits?”
“Yes.” Sharon looked around the table, trying to gauge their reactions.
Bader shrugged. “Bloody hell.”
“Bloody good shooting,” Stan said.
“How come your face isn’t in all of the papers like Douglas over here?” Eric asked.
“I don’t want. . .” Let me get a word in!
“Well?” Stan faced Bader.
Bader stood up, put his right foot on a chair, and pulled up his pant leg to reveal an artificial limb. “If you had two tin legs, then the newspapers would want to talk with you, too!”
Sharon found herself joining in on the laughter.
CHAPTER 24
[ SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 1940 ]
Mother stood outside of the door to the dispersal hut. The evening light was pink. It accented his grey hair.
Sharon sat down and loosened her tie. Six deliveries in one day. I’m beat.
Mother said, “RAF losses have been heavy today. I need a pilot with night flying experience to make a delivery. Two squadrons are in desperate need of replacement aircraft before tomorrow morning.”
“Do I have to wear a bloody tie?” Sharon asked.
Mother smiled. “Leave the tie. The Anson is waiting to take you to Castle Bromwich.”
“Where am I going after that?”
“Tangmere. You’ll have an overnight stay and be picked up first thing in the morning.”
The sun was down when she took off from Castle Bromwich in a brand-spanking-new Spitfire. On takeoff, she caught the familiar scent of shit rising from the sewage pond at the end of the runway.
Within minutes, she reached two thousand feet, trimmed the aircraft, and headed south for the coast.
It was a clear night, and the stars seemed brighter due to the blackout.
She checked her watch, estimating her time to Tangmere, then looked out again. She recalled a summer night swim in a lake north of her home in Canada. The fear that something was lurking in the depths, stalking her from the shadows. This isn’t much like the nights of flying back home. Keep your head on a swivel, clear your tail with a quick turn to the right or left, then get back on course.
She knew she was west of London, but could not see it until the searchlights sent ever-widening cones of light into the darkness. The anti-aircraft guns opened up, sending blazing rounds into the sky on her left.
It looks beautiful. Then she remembered the people on the ground being bombed, and the bombers in the shadows desperately trying to avoid detection.
She looked to her left for any signs of other aircraft, especially the telltale glow of exhaust. Nothing.
Behind her, nothing.
Just in case, she did a quick 360-degree turn, stick back into her belly, keeping the nose up with rudder. She felt herself being pushed down into the seat. Nothing on her tail.
She knew she was close to Tangmere when she saw the luminescent glow of ocean waves rolling up against the shore. Then she could smell the sea.
Sharon looked right and left, saw the runway lights, and lined up for her circuit.
A green Very light flared into the sky to signal she was clear to land.
After she landed, she taxied to the light of an open hangar door where, after shutdown, the new aircraft was pushed inside, and the big doors closed to hide their location.
Five men swarmed over the aircraft to ready it for tomorrow’s expected battle as she stepped off the wing.
No one said a word to her or even seemed to notice as she pulled off her flight helmet and combed out her hair with her fingers.
She walked out the hangar’s side door, closed it behind her, and was enveloped in darkness. She put one foot carefully in front of the other, listening for muffled conversation that would lead her to the dispersal hut.
CHAPTER 25
[ SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1940 ]
Douglas, the ATA pilot with the stocky physique, flew the Anson with an athlete’s grace. Sharon dozed, leaning against the window after her last delivery of the day.
They landed at White Waltham after sunset.
Sharon woke to a hand on her shoulder.
“Time to wake up. We’re home.” Douglas stepped back and waited for her to unbuckle and get up. He squeezed himself through the opening after Sharon was out the back door.
The dispersal hut was empty, so she stowed her gear and began the walk home.
It’s funny how you get used to the blackout. She looked ahead into the night and waited for her eyes to adapt. The blackout was complete. Yet I know where I am by the feel of the road.
There — I can see the dividing line between the trees and the sky. Not far now. She quickened her pace.
She smelled smoke.
&nbs
p; When she reached the front door of the cottage, the stink was stronger. She put the key in the lock, turned it carefully, and eased the door open. Cool air breezed past her.
“It’s okay — it’s just smoke.” Linda’s voice came from the kitchen.
Sharon closed the door behind her. The air above their heads was white with smoke. She looked to see if the letters were still on the ottoman.
“But I wanted to surprise her,” Sean said.
Sharon stepped into the kitchen.
Linda and Sean had their backs to her and were looking at something smoldering in the sink.
The kitchen window was open.
“What will Sharon say?” Sean asked.
“We won’t tell her,” Linda said.
“It’ll be our secret. This is a nice surprise. Sorry I’m so late,” Sharon said.
Sean turned. Surprise and delight made his eyes seem brighter.
She almost fell over when he lunged and wrapped his arms around her. His head caught her under the chin. She closed her eyes, saw stars, and tried to maintain her balance. “Boy, it’s good to see the two of you. Let me sit down.”
Sean sat down next to her. “Linda had to see the doctor, so we came down on the train.”
Linda sat across from them. She was wearing loose-fitting tan slacks and a white blouse. There were worry lines across her forehead. “We had a wonderful supper planned, but you know what a disaster I am in the kitchen.”
Sharon put her arm around Sean’s shoulders. “How’s Honeysuckle?”
“Worried about Michael,” Sean said.
Sharon sent a puzzled look in Linda’s direction.
“We haven’t heard from him since he left the farm with you. We’re worried because we know the kind of work he does.”
“What kind of work does he do? I mean, he says so little about what he really does,” Sharon said.
Linda nodded. “It’s the fact that he’s so damned secretive about so much of what he does, but will talk at length about some of the bigger problems of the war. I think he might be in France again.”
“How would he get there?” Sharon asked.
“We were hoping you would know. Honeysuckle said you met with Michael at some kind of secret air base that everyone else thinks is a farm,” Linda said.
“Gibraltar Farm. It’s all very hush-hush. I’ve delivered a few Lysanders there.”
The words fell out of Linda’s mouth in a jumble. “He would need a way to get into France without attracting notice. He knows the language. He has contacts in the country — people he went to school with. The Lysander can land almost anywhere.”
“We know that people are getting in and out of France in Lysanders,” Sharon said. “They were talking about putting long-range tanks into one I delivered. And when I was at Tangmere last night, a Lysander landed, refueled, and took off. It headed out over the Channel. It returned just after sunrise when the Anson came to pick me up. They kept the Lysander at the far end of the field. It was like that night when I first met Michael, and you had that fight with him. So we know part of the picture, but there’s still too much we don’t know.” Sharon felt Sean’s head leaning against her shoulder. “Maybe we’d best move to the sitting room.”
Fifteen minutes later, Linda said, “He’s asleep. He was so excited about coming to see you, he didn’t sleep last night or on the train. I’ll get a blanket.” She stood up from the couch and went to the closet. She pulled out a blanket as Sharon eased away from her brother and placed a pillow under his head.
Linda covered him with the blanket. “He and Mom are getting along very well. He’s made her young again.”
“How’s he handling what happened to his parents?” Sharon looked at him sleeping there and wondered at the cherubic serenity of a sleeping child.
Linda looked at her friend. “Let’s have a cup of tea. I think I can manage that without causing smoke.” She went into the kitchen and turned off the light in the sitting room.
Sharon sat down at the kitchen table. “I don’t need a cup of tea for bad news.”
Linda filled the kettle and set it on the stove. “He has nightmares.”
Sharon shook her head. “I can’t get away. All leaves have been cancelled.”
“No one is blaming you. And speaking of nightmares, you look like you haven’t slept in quite some time.” Linda sat down across from her friend.
“I have no problem falling asleep. It’s just that I usually wake up after being shot down in flames with my fists pounding against the inside of the canopy. Even after I wake up, I can still smell burning flesh and hair.” Sharon leaned up against the kitchen wall.
“I have a similar recurring nightmare. It’s even more vivid after I’ve had a glass of beer.” Linda smiled.
“Well, I’ll have to try a pint before bed, then.” Sharon said sarcastically.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Linda got up to pour the boiling water into a teapot. “Mother’s really worried about Michael this time. She said that last time she didn’t hear from him, but didn’t worry as much. She thinks something has happened to him. In case you hadn’t noticed, Honeysuckle believes in intuition.” She put the lid on the teapot, then brought the pot and cups to the table. “And Marmaduke has been dropping by unexpectedly. That’s been pretty unsettling for her.”
Sharon sat up straight. “What’s he done to her?”
“Asking questions. Mostly about you and Sean. Mother is getting tired of him sniffing around.” Linda poured their tea. The sweet, sharp scent of it filled the kitchen.
“You know that I hired a lawyer, Walter McGregor, after Marmaduke tried to get me to sign away all rights to my mother’s inheritance.” Sharon blew steam off the top of the tea before she sipped.
“You’ve got him worried, and he thinks Honeysuckle might know something about it.” Linda looked in the front room to check if Sean had woken.
“That’s probably what’s happened. I’m afraid I’ve brought no end of trouble to you and your family.”
Linda looked at her friend. “How extraordinary that you would see the situation from that point of view! We don’t see it that way at all.”
“How do you see it?”
“My mother thinks she’s had a second chance with her childhood friend. She says that Leslie was a sister to her. I’ve gained a friend as well. Michael, he’s. . . I’ve never seen him like this. He’s usually so self-contained and self-assured.”
Sharon went to open her mouth, then closed it. What can I say in response to that?
Linda’s mouth formed a straight line. “I’d better be off to bed. Sean and I need to catch the early train to make it to Grinstead.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Michael’s my brother. I just don’t want to see him hurt.”
“And you think I’ll hurt him?”
Linda turned. “Not intentionally.”
“This is all new to me, Linda.” Sharon leaned forward.
“I know. I’m just worried about him. He’s the only brother I have.”
Sharon decided to change the subject. “Do you need another skin graft operation?”
Linda did not turn as she went up the stairs. “That’s what I’ll find out tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 26
[ MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1940 ]
Sharon woke with her nose bent up against the floral pattern of the wing-backed chair. She heard Sean snoring. She sat up and looked at her wristwatch. “Shit!”
She kissed Sean on the forehead, tucked the blanket more tightly around him, grabbed her kit, and stepped out the door.
By the time she returned that evening, her uniform carried the telltale signs of having spent at least part of the day in a slit trench.
Linda opened the door. She was wearing a white blouse and baggy black trousers. Linda looked at her friend. “What happened to you?”
“I delivered a Spitfire to Kenley. I’m surprised you didn’t hear all the noise. The Luftwaffe arrived, and I he
aded for cover.” Sharon looked around her friend. “Where’s Sean?”
“In the loo. Come on. Get cleaned up. We’re going out for fish and chips. No more suffering through my disasters in the kitchen.” Linda stood back from the door.
Sharon stepped past her. “Sean! Hurry up and let me in the bath. I need to get cleaned up.”
Linda closed the front door.
Sharon turned. “What did the doctors say?”
Linda smiled. “They say I’m healing well, and I need to come back in three weeks to see about another skin graft.”
Footsteps pounded on the floorboards. Sean appeared in the hallway. “Where are we going?”
“Out for supper. There’s a wonderful place just down the road.” Linda looked at Sharon. “We’ll eat after your sister gets cleaned up.”
In half an hour, Sharon was back downstairs, wearing a clean pair of trousers and a blue blouse.
“Let’s go!” Linda limped her way out the door and down the road to the pub.
Sean ran ahead, then ran back until he could smell the food. He met them at the front door of the pub.
They ate outside, using their fingers to eat the chips and fish.
Linda licked her fingers. “God, I’ve missed this.”
“I’m sorry about Michael and me. I don’t know what to say when I’m around him. He’s always so nice to me, and he’s your brother. The problem is, when I’m around him, I can’t think clearly.” Sharon stuffed a chip in her mouth. Just shut up. Things were going so well. Why did you have to bring that up? Now Linda will be upset.
Linda turned to her friend. “What did you say?”
“About what?” Half a chip fell out of Sharon’s mouth.
Linda and Sean began to laugh.
“This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt like maybe I’m. . .” Sharon said.
“Normal?” Linda asked.
“Full?” Sean asked.
“At peace. Just right now, at this moment, I feel at peace. I think that’s what I’m trying to say.”
