Jessica thought it was a bit long-winded and wandered about the point, but he did go on to explain why Narromine was such a good location with excellent flying conditions. And besides, as he added, many famous flyers said that it was, with Darwin, the best strip they had landed on in Australia.
He also wrote about the large plane that had visited in July the previous year which carried 17 passengers as well as crew. The ‘Astrea’ was owned by Imperial Airways and was to carry both mail and passengers between England and Australia. It had landed safely at Narromine. If it could, anything that flew could also land safely. Jessica expected it would be simple to get permission for the mail planes to land there, but Mr Fletcher and Mr Perry explained that it would probably take a few months to get a result. And they thanked her for her help.
Chapter Twenty Six
Narromine, May 1934
In late May, a special treat was awaiting her. The famous Jean Batten was coming to Narromine. Over the last year, Jessica had met many planes and aviators and was becoming rather blasé at the thought of meeting a new one. But this one was different. She was female. Amy Johnson hadn’t come to Narromine, so Jessica had never met a famous woman flyer. And she really wanted to. She knew they existed. She knew about the annual Powder Puff derby in America for female pilots, and the names of the winners. She knew all about America’s Amelia Earhart, who had first flown the Atlantic as a passenger in 1928 and then as solo pilot in 1932.But these were people she knew about, rather like she ‘knew’ Jo, the character in Little Women.
Now, at long last, she was going to meet one of these legendary women flyers. Often described as ‘elegant’ and ‘enigmatic’, Jean Batten was the daughter of a dentist, in Rotorua, New Zealand, (which was almost Australia) and was born in 1909, just after Louis Bleriot first flew across the English Channel. She trained in music and dance, but was more interested in geography and travel. At nineteen, having sold her piano to raise the money, she and her mother went to England so she could learn to fly. She had to get her commercial flying licence — which required 100 hours of solo flying — before anyone would sponsor her. Now she had flown from England to Darwin in fourteen days and twenty-two and a half hours, beating Amy Johnson’s time by over four days. And soon she would land in Narromine.
The Aero Club promised that, not only could Jessica be there with the welcoming party, but she could also be presented to Miss Batten. On the afternoon of 29 May, Jessica was jigging up and down as she waited at the aerodrome. They had arrived at 2.30pm — not even the first — to wait for Miss Batten, who was expected at 3.30pm.
“For goodness sake, Jessica, get a grip on yourself,” her mother snapped. “You’ve changed your clothes three times, and you’ve spent more time in front of the mirror than I’ve ever seen you. You didn’t do this for Smithy and that I could’ve understood!”
“But I’ve grown up since then and Jean Batten is supposed to be very elegant. I don’t want to look a scruff.” Mum smiled rather indulgently as she looked at her daughter. Now Jessica was fourteen, her mother had suggested that — just occasionally — she could pretend to be a lady. Jessica tried. She topped her mother by an inch and these days, was prepared to stand still long enough for her dress to be properly fastened and would even brush her hair into a shiny bob. Sometimes she looked almost well dressed. The chestnut hair glowed and her brown eyes sparkled with her excitement. She still walked with a long stride, none of those lady-like mincing steps but her shoes were polished and even her nails cleaned and filed.
“Well,” said Dad, nearly as excited as Jessica, “you look like a fine specimen of Australian girlhood.”
“You would say that, Dad. I’m your daughter.” The whole family was travelling to the aerodrome, so everyone was dressed in their Sunday best. Dad was in a suit and Mum wore her best twinset and pleated tartan skirt. Even Billy had been scrubbed and forced into ironed shorts and shirt, his hair ruthlessly dragged into neatness. Elspeth had insisted on wearing her very best (her newest) jodhpurs, but she was still only seven, so no one complained. In short, the family looked neat enough to greet the best-dressed aviator known.
“Be still,” her mother hissed, “You’re getting your shoes all dusty.” Her jigs grew smaller but she couldn’t stand completely still. Her body simply twitched with excitement, her tummy roiled with bubbles of anticipation.
“Look. Look,’ she tried to whisper, but her voice cut through the murmurs around her. Following her pointing finger, everyone could soon see the two small planes coming their way. Miss Batten’s Gipsy Moth followed the Wakefield Monoplane escort as, one after the other, they skimmed softly in to land. As the propellers slowed and the crews climbed down, the crowds moved forward and loud cheers broke the silence.
“I’m so glad to be here,” Miss Batten greeted the Mayor. She smiled at everyone as she was led through the crowd to the platform where the Civic welcome was to be held. Cameras flashed, autograph hunters surged forward and the watchers swarmed around.
Jessica could hardly see her, until she reached the platform. More cheers and the Mayor had to raise his hand asking for quiet. He formally welcomed her, “It would be nice to say that Miss Batten was an Australian, but I suppose she’s the next best thing.” Laughter. “Your brave deed will go down in history, and it will be many years before anyone can surpass your courage, stamina and nerve.”
Miss Batten smiled graciously, and replied. “I’d like to express my gratitude to you for giving me such a rousing and enthusiastic welcome.” The Mayor then handed her over to the Aero Club, which was, he said, “the most progressive club in the State”. More cheers. Before she left the aerodrome, however, Miss Batten first insisted on seeing her beloved Gipsy Moth safe for the night. Jessica wanted to offer to help, but wasn’t quite game. They all travelled to the Federal Hotel, more or less in convoy. There, Miss Batten was toasted and provided with packets of her favourite cigarettes, which, she complained, she hadn’t been able to get on her flight.
She described her flight from Darwin to Narromine, with the Wakefield escort. “The big plane was much too fast for me and every so often they had to wait for me. So I’d open the throttle, dive and then zoom up beneath them. They’d wonder ‘Where’s Miss Batten?’ and I’d be right under their cabin window.”
She also commented that the Narromine aerodrome was the best landing strip she had experienced. Her twinkle and words charmed the entire Aero Club and Jessica was really looking forward to being introduced and perhaps telling Miss Batten about her own ambitions.
At long, long last, Mr Fletcher came over and led Jessica towards their guest. “Miss Batten,” he said, “this is Jessica Mackay, one of our young Aero Club members. She wants to be a pilot when she’s old enough.” Miss Batten turned slightly and smiled broadly at Mr Fletcher. She glanced briefly at Jessica. “Does she?” she asked him, not really looking at Jessica. “Yes,” he responded, not quite returning the smile. Jessica could never read what Mr Fletcher was thinking.
But when Miss Batten looked as if she was ready to move on, his face seemed to solidify. He held the slight smile, but even Jessica could see that he showed no signs of pleasure in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to shake her hand?” he asked. Miss Batten’s smile faded and she quickly held out a hand to Jessica, touching her fingers in a swift gesture. Jessica felt hardly a squeeze from her cool fingers as Miss Batten flashed her a tight smile. Jessica’s own smile drooped as she tried to hold it. “Does she realise it’s a lot of hard work?” she asked Mr Fletcher.
“She certainly does,” Jessica butted in, wanting to put her own case and ask Miss Batten some questions; “I’ve been having lessons on engines and I am just learning to fly a Gipsy Moth.”
“Really? Good.” responded Miss Batten. Then smiling again broadly, Miss Batten allowed Mr Fletcher to lead her away. Jessica noticed that she distanced herself from Mr Fletcher so he didn’t touch her. As he left, he found time to drop a brief squeeze on Jessica’s shoulder.
&
nbsp; Dad came over and gave her a hug. “Well, she might be a famous aviator, but she won’t win any medals for kindness.” Jessica couldn’t say anything; Jean Batten had made her feel she didn’t really count. Some male flyers had been dismissive of her but she had expected a woman to be more obviously supportive. Neither she nor her family went to the aerodrome the next day to wave Jean Batten off as she flew towards Sydney.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The only thing that improved Jessica’s mood over the next week was the news that Narromine would definitely be a stop on the mail route and that the new service was expected to start before the end of the year. Exactly when, no one was sure, but the entire Aero Club was as excited as Jessica. Air pageants were one thing, but a mail route, that was a sign that flying was here to stay — no stunt, no circus but an important part of life in the twentieth century.
On 30 August, just as Jessica began her next school holidays, Mr Wilfred Kingsford Smith, older brother of Sir Charles, spoke at a public meeting held in Narromine on the prospects of a feeder service between Narromine and Sydney, to run three days each week and to carry passengers, picking up and setting down at Dubbo and the township of Orange.
Aeroplanes were indeed being taken seriously.
It was great news, but Jessica had a dilemma. These holidays meant that she had only one term left at the Narromine Central School and she needed a decision on what she did next. She had accepted that leaving school and just hoping she could fly was not an option anyone in her family would let her consider. She had hoped that they would forget all about it, but she doubted that would happen, even though the family was rather preoccupied with Aunt Velia’s continuing desire to marry Mr Gibson. Her parents decided to take a hand and invited the pair of them over for dinner, sending the children off to their rooms at the end of dessert.
The next morning at breakfast, Dad told the children that Auntie Velia and Mr Gibson were going to be married. “About time,” said Jessica.
Billy tried not to smirk. “Jess can be bridesmaid!” Jessica kicked him hard. Elspeth ignored them all, so Jessica said, “Perhaps you’d like to be a bridesmaid, Ellie?”
“Not if I have to wear a dress.”
“I don’t think bridesmaids can wear jodhpurs,” her mother said.
The wedding was set for early spring. Grandfather ranted, yelled and tried to assert his place as the “head of the household” but this time everyone copied Grandmother and smiled and listened and went ahead with the arrangements.
“I won’t give you away,” Grandfather threatened.
“You don’t need to, Dad,” Jessica’s father replied. “I will. And anyway, she’s a widow. She doesn’t really need someone to give her away. She’s already been given.”
Jessica hoped Grandfather would get over it and turn up on the day, with some grace. He was, after all, keen not to let others learn of family squabbles. There wouldn’t be any, of course, if everyone did what he wanted.
Jessica knew she had to raise her own dilemma soon and even though she kept putting it off, it really had to be done. Now. “About next year,” she said at dinner, “I don’t want to go to boarding school.”
“We know,” her mother replied in her driest voice.
“I want to leave school at the end of this year.”
“No.”
“But …”
“There will be no debate on this, Jessica,” her father interrupted. “You will continue school.”
“The question though,” her mother added quickly, “is where you go. You’ve told us enough times how much you don’t want to go to a boarding school. And I think your arguments are good ones. It probably wouldn’t suit you.”
“But …”
“Just wait. I’ve a solution that may work. So hear me out and then you can have your say. My own school might suit you and you could stay with my parents in Glebe for the two years. You’d come home for the holidays. Would you consider that?”
Grandfather and Gran Douglas were much easier to deal with than the Mackay grandparents. And Mum’s old school was a day school. But …
“But what?” asked Dad, watching as Jessica screwed her face up in concentration.
“But, I’d have to leave Narromine and I wouldn’t be able to continue learning about flying.”
“Well, you knew that was going to happen sometime. You can’t finish school here. It was never an option, was it?”
“I suppose not …”
“Then would you consider it? It’s only two years after all.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“A bit of a one, about where you go. Not whether. All right?”
“It’ll have to be, won’t it?” She knew it was the best solution, if she were honest. But she really had wanted a miracle; a miracle that let her stay here and continue to work on engines and planes, to practise her navigation skills and survival skills, and learn more about maps. She wanted to go to Aero Club meetings and help with their work.
Without a miracle, she would have to look at this prospect. Maybe she could stand it. Mum’s school was Fort Street Girls’ High, a well regarded public school in the city, not too far by bus from her grandparents’ house in Glebe. Her aunt taught there but she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Teachers’ relatives sometimes got a hard time from the other students. It would be better than boarding school. Much better! And she would be able to come home for holidays. She wouldn’t be completely out of touch.
And just maybe she could visit Mascot and the flying school there.
Johnny thought it was a good idea. Although his family wasn’t, as he’d said, ‘into boarding schools’, he was off to one in Sydney for two years. “Dad knows I’m not going to be a market gardener and that I want to be an engineer. They reckon we can afford two years boarding. So I won’t be here either.”
But there was still a whole term and the long summer holidays to go before any of that happened. With luck, they’d both be around to see the first mail run. And the passenger service as well.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Narromine, August 1934
“I don’t understand what those circly things mean,” Jessica complained. Like maths, maps were not easy.
“Yes, you do,” said Johnny. “They’re markings for hills. See those little figures? The circly lines are the contours, how the land rises and the numbers give information on height. You can do it, Jess. Truly, once you understand, it’s not that hard.”
Jessica and Johnny had moved on to the new maps a couple of weeks earlier. Pilots and planes had been gradually surveying Australia from the air and producing a whole new series of maps. “Just think, a hundred years ago, we hardly had ground maps of most of Australia, and now we’ve got aerial ones.” Jessica was still puzzling over the one in front of her. “But why do we need information about hills? We don’t have any out here and you could see them anyway, out the window.”
“Gosh, you can be daft sometimes. Surely you want to go further afield than just around here. What if you want to fly over the Blue Mountains? What if it’s night time? You’d need a map then, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so.” She sighed deeply. These damned things with their curly lines and tiny figures really did matter. They were useful, so perhaps she’d better come to grips with them. In fact, if Johnny was right, then she might really need them sometimes. But not to fly to Nyngan and back.
Just as they’d finished squabbling, Mr Grahame wandered into the garage and announced that the next Sunday he was flying to Nyngan and back and did one of them want to come with him? Perhaps they could share a bit of the flying? Jessica’s face lit up. She didn’t notice Johnny looking sideways at her and grinning.
Then he spoke first. “Take Jess. It’s more important for her.”
“That’s very unselfish, lad,” said Mr Grahame. He too was watching Jessica’s expression as she struggled not to yell, “Me! Me!” Both he and Johnny could see what she wasn’t saying.
&n
bsp; “No, Mr Grahame, I’ve got something else to do and it really is more important for Jessica.”
“So, girlie, you want to come? If your parents agree?”
“Oh, yes please.” She was sure they’d agree. Or at least she could persuade them. So she rushed home, hardly able to wait. As usual, she hadn’t been able to get anyone until dinnertime and she was wriggling in her chair and shuffling her feet as they sat down.
“What, Jess? Got St Vitus’ dance?” asked her father. She dropped her knife, which fell unnoticed to the floor. For once, no one asked her to pick it up.
“Mr Grahame has asked me to fly to Nyngan with him on Sunday. Can I go? Please, can I?”
Her parents looked at each other. “Just for the day?”
“Yes, it’s not a long journey and he can refuel if he needs to there.”
“So you’d be back by Sunday evening?” Because it was the holidays, there was no school on Monday.
“Oh yes.”
Dad glanced at her mother, who raised an eyebrow. Her mother took over. “It’s all right by us and we know we can trust Mr Grahame. I assume you’ll be taking the controls for some of the time?”
“I hope so, only while we’re in the air. But it’s open and flat — you can’t get into much trouble between here and Nyngan.” Then she thought of something else and grinned, “In fact, you don’t even need a map. You can just keep your eye on the railway line.”
“Yes,” her mother responded absently. “But there is something else we want to discuss. With all of you, not just Jessica.” The three children lifted their eyes from dinner plates and looked attentive. “Aunt Velia and Mr Gibson are getting married next month and Dad and I want all of us to be there to support them. That includes you three.
“ It means we all turn up, we all smile and, unfortunately for you children, we all get dressed up.” Glumly all three of them nodded. “And Jessica, your dress can double for the school dance at the end of year.”
Girl with Wings Page 10
