by Molly Green
She shook his arm off. ‘The trouble with you men in uniform,’ she began, her voice trembling with anger, ‘is that you all think you’re God’s gift. All I asked was for good manners, which I would’ve thought they’d have taught you in the RAF, even if your parents didn’t, which doesn’t mean sharing a joke at my expense with the bartender just because I made a point, as you call it.’
She stopped abruptly to take a breath, inwardly seething.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking like a contrite schoolboy who didn’t really mean it. ‘I admit, it was rude of me. Come on back and I’ll buy those drinks. Who are you with, anyway – a boyfriend who drinks lemonade?’
‘You can’t help the sarcasm, can you?’ she said scathingly. ‘If you must know, the other one’s for my sister.’
‘Ah, a sister. And is she as bad-tempered as you?’
How dare he!
And then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Sorry, I’m teasing you. Honest. Name’s Alec … Alec Marshall.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘What’s yours?’
Marshall? She hadn’t forgotten that name. He was one of the six pilots who’d brought in the new Hurricanes that time. The one who’d smiled at her. Who’d begun walking towards her … until one of his mates had called him away. So his name was Alec. She needed to get away before he recognised her.
‘I must get back to my sister,’ she said, disregarding his outstretched hand.
‘She’ll be disappointed if you go back to her without her drink.’
Ignoring him, she quickly made her way over to the other side of the room, near the orchestra. Suzanne was bound to have grabbed somewhere close to the musicians so she could watch them playing.
‘I was beginning to wonder where you were,’ Suzanne said as Raine sat down at the table for four, across from a couple who couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
Raine jerked her head towards them and rolled her eyes. Suzanne giggled.
‘You didn’t bring any drinks. Was the queue at the bar too long?’
‘I got waylaid,’ Raine said.
‘By me!’ A man’s shadow fell over the table.
Oh, no. Raine parted her lips and blew out an exaggerated sigh. He’d followed her. And he was carrying a tray holding three drinks.
‘May I join you?’
‘There’s no spare chair,’ Raine said in an icy tone.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that.’ Alec Marshall hunkered down by her chair, his face close to hers. ‘The band’s a bit loud.’
She knew he’d heard her. Not drawing back an inch, she said slowly and clearly, a few decibels louder, ‘There’s no chair.’
‘Take this one,’ an older woman from the table nearest called. She nudged an empty chair towards their table.
The pilot thanked her charmingly and squeezed in between the two girls.
He turned to look at Suzanne. ‘I think you must be the lady’s sister,’ he said, ‘though I haven’t yet had the pleasure of knowing her name even though I’ve told her mine. I’m Alec Marshall.’
‘That’s easy,’ Suzanne said immediately, ignoring Raine’s glare. ‘This is Lorraine, my sister, but she goes by the name of Raine. And I’m Suzanne.’
To Raine’s intense irritation Suzanne put her hand out and shook Alec’s hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Marshall.’
‘Do call me Alec.’
Suzanne smiled and nodded.
Alec Marshall turned to Raine. ‘I must say I wouldn’t have put you down as sisters … and it’s not just the hair colour.’
Raine sucked in her breath. She knew he was having a dig at her.
Without pausing, he added, ‘So now we’ve been officially introduced, perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of a dance with both of you.’ A smile hovered over his lips, then became a delighted grin. ‘You know something, Raine? I’ve seen you before.’
‘I can’t imagine where.’ She glared at him. ‘And by the way, only people close to me use my nickname.’
She felt Suzanne give her a sly kick under the table but took no notice. How dare he be so familiar.
‘Oh, so-rry,’ he said, bowing his head in mock subservience. He looked up. ‘I completely forgot my manners. Do forgive me, Miss Crosspatch.’
She wouldn’t lower herself to answer, though she kept her eyes on him. He was too attractive for his own good. He held her gaze, causing her pulse to quicken. Why was she being so prickly with him? After all, he was right. She’d seen him, too. Well, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction that she’d realised who he was.
He suddenly tapped his head. ‘I’ve got it! You were the kid at Biggin Hill. You caused quite a stir with the chaps when one of them told us you were learning to fly.’
She shook her head, pretending to recollect when and where it could possibly have been.
‘How soon we forget.’ He gave her a half-mocking smile. ‘It was when we delivered the new Hurricanes that time – before the war even started. It was you, I’m sure, and if you gave me a little smile now as you did then, I’d know definitely.’
Yes, she had smiled back at him that day. Now, she would die before she gave him another.
‘You saw me coming over to talk to you, but the chaps called me back. And it wasn’t anything that couldn’t have waited. But by the time I came to look for you, you’d vanished. I asked who you were, but no one knew your name, only that they thought you were one of the clerks. I kept hoping we might run into each other one day – and here we are.’ He grinned then took a deep swallow of his beer without taking his eyes off her.
She hesitated as though she was thinking. ‘Yes, I do remember the Hurricanes being delivered,’ she said after some deliberation, ‘but I can’t say any one of the pilots caught my attention.’
Alec Marshall drained his glass. ‘You know, if you weren’t so prickly, Lorraine, I’d ask you to dance. But if I did, I’d be worried you’d pierce my heart with one of your barbs.’
‘That is, if you have a heart.’ She sent him a steely look.
‘Raine, stop being so horrible,’ Suzanne said, tapping her sister’s arm. ‘It’s not like you.’
At that moment, the music changed from another jazzy piece to a slow foxtrot. It was ‘Moonlight Serenade’ – one Raine particularly loved. If she hadn’t been so cutting with Alec he might have—
‘May I have the pleasure?’
A well-built boy about her own age in a smart suit stood in front of Raine with a hesitant smile. Without a backward glance she nodded and rose, following him onto the floor, feeling Alec’s eyes boring into her back. Her partner put an arm around her waist and took her hand in his.
A minute later she wished she hadn’t been so keen. His hand became sweaty as he lowered his head, watching his feet and muttering in her ear, ‘Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.’
Raine knew she was a good dancer. She’d enjoyed learning at school and nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to glide around the dance floor with a partner who knew what he was doing. Unfortunately, this poor boy didn’t.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he stepped on her foot for the second time.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, not wanting to make him even more nervous.
After the band finished that particular piece, she made her excuses and walked back to her seat. The lovey-dovey couple had vanished and the two other chairs were empty. Presumably, Suzy was dancing with Alec Marshall. Well, her sister was welcome to his charms.
She picked up her glass and took a few sips of lemonade, irritated that he’d bought the drinks. The liquid soothed her hot, dry throat. She drank some more while scanning the dance floor. Yes, there they were, making a striking couple with Suzanne’s gleaming blonde head resting on his shoulder. She could tell he was an accomplished dancer by the way he was holding her, taking the lead, his movements fluid and practised. She felt a trickle of envy as he bent his head to say something. Suzanne laughed and Raine cringed at the thought they were laug
hing at her. Then she told herself off. Of course they weren’t. Suzanne would never do that. But the thought didn’t make her feel any better towards Alec Marshall. He was a conceited oaf and she hoped to God she wouldn’t bump into him again.
‘May I have this dance?’
A smiling man in uniform stood in front of her.
‘You may.’
Raine rose to her feet and soon she was on the dance floor again, chatting to this very pleasant officer. But her thoughts were elsewhere. And she couldn’t help looking over his shoulder every few moments – just to check her sister was all right, she told herself.
‘Is anything wrong?’ Suzanne asked as she and Raine were on the last bus back to Downe.
‘What on earth makes you say that?’ Raine said, inwardly battling with her annoyance at the whole evening.
It hadn’t been as much fun as she’d thought. None of her partners had been good dancers.
‘Because you’ve barely spoken since I danced with Alec.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, I think you do.’ Suzanne looked serious. ‘And something else. I think you have met him before but won’t admit it.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Because underneath it all you find him attractive but you won’t admit that either, so you’re trying to have the upper hand and put him in his place. But you’ve picked the wrong one. He’s more than a match for you.’
Raine was silent.
‘And when I happened to mention you were a qualified pilot—’
‘You didn’t!’ Raine interrupted. ‘I don’t want him to know my business.’
‘Why? He’s really nice when you get to know him.’
‘Well, you should know. You had enough dances with him.’
Suzanne’s eyes clouded. ‘Don’t be so dog-in-the-manger, Raine. You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with him, so why shouldn’t he ask me?’
Immediately, Raine felt guilty. Her sister had done nothing wrong and she was being perfectly horrible to her, spoiling her evening. She put her hand on Suzanne’s arm.
‘I’m sorry, Suzy. Don’t take any notice of me. I expect it’s the time of the month.’
‘It’s all right. I get irritable myself then.’
‘I’ve never noticed.’ Raine smiled. Then her smile faded. ‘What did he say when you told him I was a pilot?’
‘Tickets, please.’ The bus conductress held out her hand.
The sisters gave her their tickets. She clipped them and handed them back, nodding her thanks.
‘Where were we?’ Raine said casually, as though any continuing conversation about Alec Marshall was of no consequence. ‘Oh, yes … about being a pilot.’
‘He was most impressed. He said again how you were watching the new Hurricanes land at Biggin Hill and that he’d immediately wanted to get to know you. He said he never forgot your face and regretted that you didn’t properly meet.’ Suzanne turned her head to Raine. ‘They’re the exact words he said.’
‘Is he stationed at Biggin Hill, then?’
‘No, he’s usually stationed near Maidenhead, but he happened to be at Biggin Hill today with some friends, so they thought they’d go into Bromley – have a look in the Palais. Normally, we wouldn’t have met him at all.’
‘It would’ve been just as well,’ Raine said shortly.
‘He said for me to tell you that you should join the ATA,’ Suzanne went on, ignoring the comment. ‘It would be right up your street, he said. I told him you’d tried and hadn’t got in because they were only taking a certain number of women at present. He said he would put in a word for you to that lady you wrote to – Miss … what was her name?’
‘Miss Gower.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s the one. He knows her.’
He would. Prickles of irritation ran up Raine’s spine.
‘I don’t want that man to put in any good word for me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be beholden to anyone, least of all him. If I ever get into the ATA it will be from my own effort – not some cocky pilot’s.’
‘I think he really likes you.’
‘If he does, he’s got a strange way of showing it,’ was all Raine said.
As far as she was concerned, the subject was closed.
Chapter Ten
June 1941
Dear Miss Linfoot,
If you are still interested in joining the ATA, I should be very pleased to see you as soon as possible. Would you therefore come to Hatfield aerodrome on 21st June for an interview and bring your pilot’s licence. Just go to the main building and ask for me and someone will take you to my office.
I look forward to your confirmation that this is convenient.
Yours sincerely,
Pauline Gower (Commanding Officer)
Raine skimmed the letter again. She should be feeling elated with Miss Gower’s letter asking to see her, but instead she was terrified. It was now eighteen months since she’d set foot in an aircraft and the thought worried her sick. There’d be a test even to get into the ATA. So much to face before she’d be accepted – that is, if she reached that stage. Not to mention the difficulty in convincing her mother that she wouldn’t be happy unless she could take up her flying again.
She’d finally caved in to her mother and was working in the dress shop for Mrs Garland. But there wasn’t enough custom to keep her occupied. It would be even less now the clothing ration had just been brought in. She dreaded the idea of listening to complaints from women who thought nothing of buying two or three couture outfits at a time, and who now had to monitor their clothing coupons carefully.
If it hadn’t been for Mrs Jones in the library giving her that copy of Flight, which she’d thoroughly enjoyed, so much so that she’d asked the village newsagent to order it for her as a monthly treat, she would have gone crazy. Desperate to keep abreast as to what was happening – as much as the public were allowed to know, anyway – she soaked up the articles on the RAF pilots and the various aircraft.
She’d tried hard to be patient but had become more and more fed up and irritable with each month that passed. The war news had been consistently depressing, brought close to home when the beautiful little parish church in Bromley was ferociously bombed in April. The papers said more than two hundred bombs had dropped that night, making hundreds of people homeless. Maman had had hysterics, ordering everyone to go to the village shelter, but Dad and she and her sisters had refused to turn out at midnight, saying they would do so only when the sirens sounded in Downe itself.
Seeing the devastation in Bromley when Raine had cycled to the library one day soon after had made her stomach heave. How badly she wanted to help the war effort. How ridiculous that she wasn’t allowed to use her skills. The worst thing about the wait was that she was no longer flying.
But Pauline Gower, whom she admired more than almost anyone, had asked to see her. She had to keep that in the front of her mind. And the twenty-first of June was her birthday. A wonderful coincidence. Well, it would be the best birthday present possible if Miss Gower liked her.
Raine glanced out of the window, noticing the postman walk up the path to next door’s, her mind reeling with possibilities. Only Maman was at home. And she was the last person Raine wanted to share the news with that Miss Gower was interested in talking to her. She hadn’t forgotten how in January Maman had handed her a newspaper with an article about Amy Johnson, a highly experienced pilot who’d recently been reported as missing. It made chilling reading. They’d finally discovered her body in the Thames Estuary along with a crew member of a naval trawler, who had heard her cries for help and had tried to rescue her from drowning.
‘Maybe when you read this you will understand why I do not want you to be a pilot in this terrible war,’ her mother had said stiffly.
If only Maman had told her that she loved her and wanted her to keep safe – that she couldn’t bear to lose her – instead of simply giving her an article to
read. If only she’d given Raine a hug rather than that stern warning about ending up in the Thames like poor Amy Johnson. But ‘if onlys’ were a waste of time. Raine bit her lip. Maybe she was more like her mother than she cared to admit. She, too, found it difficult to tell anyone her innermost feelings.
In the end Raine didn’t mention any interview with her parents or her sisters. It was simply too delicate a subject at the moment. She’d wait until after the interview, and if it led to nothing she wouldn’t have upset her mother for no reason.
‘Happy birthday, chérie,’ her mother said as Raine was boiling the kettle for tea. Suzanne was still asleep and no one else was up.
She’d hoped to have a cup of tea quietly on her own before the big day. Not her birthday – she couldn’t care less about that – but her interview with Miss Gower. This was going to make or break her future and she wanted to be on top form. She could only hope her mother wouldn’t question her too closely about what she was planning to do. She’d already tried it last night at supper, mumbling that she might go and visit a friend in hospital in London. She knew it was a lie, but she needed to tell her mother she was going somewhere that wouldn’t encourage Maman into insisting on accompanying her. Oh, why was everything so complicated?
‘This friend of yours you’re going to visit. Do I know her?’
‘Hilary? No, I don’t think you’ve met her.’
‘What is the matter with her?’
‘She fell in the blackout and hurt herself.’
Raine crossed her fingers behind her back. It wasn’t a total lie. Her friend had fallen in the blackout, but she hadn’t ended up in hospital.
‘Hmm. If I didn’t know you better, I would think you were doing something quite different,’ her mother said, not taking her eyes from Raine’s.
‘And then I might have a look round Selfridges on the way back,’ Raine said, ignoring her mother’s insinuation and needing the excuse to be gone the whole day.
‘There is nothing of worth in the shops,’ Simone said triumphantly. ‘Many have been bombed.’ She looked directly at Raine. ‘Besides, you do not love shopping.’
