by Molly Green
She couldn’t think further about Alec, either. All her prayers must be for Doug that he might still be alive. And Stephanie’s recovery, too, of course.
Chapter Twenty-Two
October 1941
Raine hadn’t gone home for several weeks. She thought it best to let things quieten down with her mother. She’d had a note from Dr Hall telling her he’d been to see her and that she was resigned to the fact that Raine needed to help the war effort. She was not to worry – her mother was in good health, and she had Suzanne and Véronique with her. Raine was grateful to receive such reassurance, though it didn’t entirely relieve her guilt.
One morning Pauline Gower called her into her office.
‘We’re very pleased with you, my dear,’ she said as soon as Raine had sat down. ‘You’re becoming a fine pilot.’ She looked closely at Raine. ‘How are things with your mother now?’
‘My sisters tell me she’s much calmer and taking more interest in what’s going on around her, so I suppose that’s some progress.’
‘Well, I think she’d be proud of her daughter if she knew what an excellent job she was doing,’ Pauline said. ‘And I believe it’s time for you to deliver a Spitfire. You’ve done your next phase of training on a single-engine fighter, so we’ll make sure you have a delivery next week.’
‘Thank you,’ Raine murmured.
She couldn’t let on to Pauline that it brought her out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. Doug had been in his Spitfire when something had gone terribly wrong. She tried to concentrate on Pauline’s words, but it didn’t matter that any of the other women who were already delivering them said they were the most beautiful planes to look at, and even more so to fly. She’d still heard no more word from Doug and was trying to brace herself for the worst. And delivering a Spitfire would not be helping how she felt at the moment, even though it had once been her dream to fly one.
‘Once you’ve flown a Spit you’ll be reluctant to fly anything else,’ Pauline was saying. ‘And you automatically become Second Officer Lorraine Linfoot – with an extra stripe.’
The CO was looking for some kind of reaction. Raine forced a smile. ‘Yes, I understand that is the case. Thank you.’
‘That will be all, my dear.’ Pauline rose from her desk. ‘Ah, one other thing. Have you heard any further news of your friend, Douglas White?’
‘No,’ Raine said, the familiar numbness creeping over her.
‘Let’s hope you hear something soon,’ Pauline said. ‘We mustn’t lose hope.’
Raine had been trying to rest to calm her nerves, but was too strung up to do anything but fidget. She was called to the phone in the crew room only two hours later.
‘Am I speaking to Miss Lorraine Linfoot?’
‘Yes.’
Please tell me he’s been found. He’s all right.
‘I’m Peter Hilbert, Douglas White’s wing commander.’ There was a pause. ‘I understand you’re a close friend of his and I believe you’re aware that he’s missing.’
Raine gripped the receiver. ‘Yes. Have you heard anything?’
She squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on his answer.
‘We have some more details about what might have happened.’ She heard him clear his throat. ‘One of our planes was shot at just as our chap was about to leave the French coast – he was flying close to another one of ours, who was in the line of fire as well. He baled out and saw this pilot doing the same thing – we can only assume it was White. But he never registered White’s parachute opening due to the fact he was concentrating on getting out of the way of the firing double-quick. White’s Spitfire would have taken a complete nosedive and there’s no way we’d be able to find it – it’d be deeply buried on French soil.’
Nausea rose to her throat. ‘But it’s still possible he’s alive?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose, but we’ve heard no sign at all from him.’
‘Then there’s still a chance …’
‘A slim chance he’s been picked up …’ Another pause. ‘But that might not be so good if it was the Germans.’
‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Raine felt sick. She didn’t think she could carry on with the conversation much longer.
‘If we hear anything more we’ll be sure to let you know, but for the time being, all I can say is how sorry I am. He was one of the best.’
Was one of the best. Peter Hilbert obviously thought there was little hope that he was still alive. Her throat closed. She was choking … She began to cough and felt for her handkerchief.
‘Are you all right?’ The voice sounded concerned.
‘Yes,’ she said flatly, then added, ‘Thank you very much for telephoning me.’
Her legs feeling like lead, Raine put the receiver back. So if it really was him baling out and his parachute hadn’t opened, it would have been terrifying when he realised he wasn’t going to come out of this one. Was she his last thought? She swallowed hard, wishing she smoked. They said it calmed your nerves. It’s what Doug used to say. He smoked incessantly and said it was as loyal as any friend. He was only twenty-six. And he’d been waiting all these years for her to become a woman.
But would she have actually married him? She closed her eyes. She didn’t know the answer to that one – even if she’d never met Alec.
True to Pauline Gower’s word, a week later, Raine collected a chit that up until a few weeks ago would have filled her with joy. She was to deliver her first Spitfire from the factory in Eastleigh in Hampshire to RAF Lyneham. It was only a short hop but the excitement she would normally have felt to be flying one was gone, replaced only with misery that she would be reminded every second of Doug’s last flight. She shook herself. She was becoming maudlin. Doug wouldn’t want her to be acting like this.
‘You’re here to do a job, my girl, and do the job you will,’ she imagined him saying in an instructor’s firm tone. ‘You’ll earn the respect of every male pilot when you do – and that’s been your cherished dream.’
How she wished she was meeting him tonight for a well-deserved drink after a full day. She missed her friend deeply and blinked back the tears. He was right. She had a job to do. But deep down she wished the honour of flying her first Spitfire was going to one of the other girls.
‘Wish me luck, then, as it’s my first Spit,’ Raine said, smiling with a confidence she didn’t feel.
The engineer’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Well, I suppose there has to be a first.’ He looked at her with more interest and smiled. ‘You might find the plane flies you rather than the other way round. Be prepared for a completely different flying experience.’
They all say that, Raine thought. It can’t be that different.
Once the chocks were pulled out, Raine waved the two men away. Ignoring her fast-beating heart she taxied out, hoping she would make a perfect take-off in the unfamiliar aircraft with the men curiously watching. She mustn’t let the side down.
With a roar of the engine she was up! And it was the most glorious feeling in the world. No wonder Doug had loved it so much. For the first time since he’d been posted as ‘missing’ she felt an exhilaration shoot through her entire being. That was how he’d felt. Her body became weightless. Free. Liberated. She and the Spit were flying as one machine.
All it needed was the lightest touch of the control column and it responded almost before she’d even nudged it. She loved its throaty growl and felt happier than she had in a long time. She’d heard that Merlin engine growl when she was on the ground and always admired its elegant flight. And now, here she was, actually part of it, belonging to it. And it was like no other feeling in the world. The female pilots all agreed – it was, indeed, a woman’s plane.
Skimming the clouds Raine remembered the excitement the first time she’d gone solo in a Tiger Moth. How that evening she’d told her family. The expression on her mother’s face and her threat that she would never see the day Raine became a qualified pilot. She’d never forget it. But Dad �
�� he’d been proud of her, she knew. And so were her sisters.
And then the rumours of war had become a reality. Once Neville Chamberlain had declared war on Germany that gruesome day, it had changed everything. Terrible though it was, Raine could never forget it had opened the best door in the world for her.
Peering at the map she thought she should already be close to RAF Lyneham. It had started to rain again and now it lashed against the windscreen, making the airfield itself difficult to spot. Clouds had gathered but she didn’t dare fly above them. Those were the rules. She flew on, looking for a break in the clouds.
To her relief, she saw a clearing. Hoping it was the airfield she dropped lower, and thank heavens, she was right. Circling a couple of times, she waited for a plane to take off and a second one to land, looking for a slot before the next plane came in. There was her chance! She eased the throttle and pushed the stick gently away for the descent. Now for the undercarriage. Yes, there were the two green lights showing her it was down.
In spite of the worsening weather the flight had gone as smoothly as though she were in the hands of a professional, which she supposed she was. Any other plane would have buffeted about in the wind, but Raine made a perfect landing.
With reluctance she stepped out, her parachute over her shoulder, beaming. It was raining hard now but she didn’t care because she’d done it! The Spitfire was a plane to adore. She was still smiling as she practically ran through the sodden grass and stepped into the office.
A fair-haired man had his back to her, his head bent over a filing cabinet. At her entrance he turned.
‘Oh, hello, I was just—’ Raine stopped in her tracks, the smile wiped off her face.
‘Well, if it isn’t Miss Linfoot,’ Alec Marshall said. ‘I presume you’ve come to sign in for your delivery.’ His eyes glittered as they met hers.
Warmth rushed to her cheeks. It was so unexpected seeing him again that she couldn’t quite believe it was him. She hadn’t been kind to him when they’d last said goodbye. And by all appearances it didn’t seem as though he’d forgotten.
He pushed the book over to her to sign. She scribbled her signature by the delivery. Alec didn’t even glance at it.
‘Alec, I’m sorry—’
He held up his hand. ‘Don’t mention it. I perfectly understand.’
‘But you don’t,’ Raine said wildly. ‘Is there somewhere we could go for a few minutes?’
‘I don’t see there’s any point.’
‘Please, Alec. There’s something I want to explain.’
He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Where’ve you flown in from?’
‘Eastleigh.’
‘Do you want something to eat? Drink?’
She breathed out. ‘I’d love a cup of tea.’
‘We’ll go to the mess.’
Five minutes later they were sitting on one of the sofas, the space between them enough for a third person not to feel cramped. People were chatting so she felt able to speak without the risk of being overheard. She turned to him.
‘Alec, I really am sorry what I said about writing to me. I had quite a bit on my mind at the time. And I wasn’t sure about something. You see, Doug—’
‘He’s the boyfriend, isn’t he?’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He was never my boyfriend, and I didn’t realise at the time that he wanted to be more than friends. But now he … he …’ She swallowed.
‘Go on.’
‘He’s missing … presumed dead.’
Alec’s face clouded. He touched her hand in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, Raine. I mean it. That’s rotten luck when you know someone. But people have come back after being reported missing.’
‘His wing commander spoke to me a week ago.’ She quickly told him what they had pieced together.
‘So it looks like he baled out as well as the other chap,’ Alec said, ‘but you say they’ve heard no word since.’ He sucked in his breath. ‘It doesn’t sound good, but you shouldn’t give up hope. Of course he could have been picked up by someone in the French Resistance.’
She gulped. ‘Or the alternative – by a German.’ She sent Alec a beseeching look. ‘If they found his body at least I’d know. It’s terrible being in limbo in this way.’
He nodded and looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, Raine, I have to go. I have a report I need to do urgently.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you—’
‘No. I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk, even though it’s been slightly rushed.’ He held her gaze.
The room suddenly blazed with light, then went dark again, followed by a loud roll of thunder. Alec went to the window. After some moments he turned to her.
‘Actually, the weather is looking pretty bad out there. I don’t think it would be wise for you to even think about going back this evening. Why don’t you phone them at the camp and stay over?’
‘They’re expecting me back,’ Raine said, her heart leaping. Was Alec going to stay over as well? ‘And because it’s not far, I was going by train.’
‘It’s late and it’s dark already. And listen to that storm outside.’
She went over to the window and stood by him. He was right. A train journey would be miserable – if, indeed, trains were running. These days they were sometimes cancelled without any notice, and there were often innumerable delays with no explanations. If you asked, they reminded you there was a war on. Besides, the compartment would be freezing cold and full of smoke. Or she’d end up in a corridor sitting on her chute. No, it didn’t sound very appealing.
‘What about you?’ she said, acutely aware of his presence, his shoulder almost touching hers. ‘You’re not going up in this, are you?’
‘No, I’ll go early tomorrow morning. I’m just doing a report at one of the other huts. If you stay we could have supper together.’ He suddenly smiled. ‘Would that be acceptable to you, Miss Linfoot?’
A warm feeling stole round her heart. She returned the smile. ‘Perfectly acceptable, Flight Lieutenant Marshall,’ she said.
He grinned. ‘I’ll order a cab then. Can you be ready by seven?’
‘I can. But I’ve only brought an overnight bag in case I was held up, so I don’t have any evening wear to change into.’ She looked down ruefully at her trousers. ‘I didn’t expect to go out for supper. But I have my ATA skirt with me. Will that do?’
‘You’ll very definitely do,’ Alec said, his green eyes glinting.
It felt strange to be sitting in the back of a car next to Alec. She was acutely aware of how close he was, their shoulders brushing. If she reached over she could take his hand, curl her fingers around his.
She’d had twinges of anticipation all afternoon thinking about the evening to come and how she could make things right between them. The adjutant at Hatfield had told her she was very wise to stay at RAF Lyneham if they could put her up. If only she had something nice – something more feminine – to change into.
In the small dormitory where she was to spend the night she quickly buttoned the standard blue shirt, tucking it into the dark blue skirt, and neatened her tie. She looked at herself in her small powder compact mirror and frowned. Her eyes had darkened in the dim light. But she’d managed to apply her precious red lipstick and give her chestnut waves a thorough brushing. It was the best she could do.
‘Where are we going?’ Raine asked, breaking the silence.
‘Chippenham,’ Alec replied. ‘A lovely old market town. They call it Little Bath. It’s not far from here and right on the Avon as well. I’ve booked us into one of the old restaurants overlooking the river.’
‘It sounds wonderful.’
For the first time she relaxed in his presence. The interior of the taxi was cold and she pulled her greatcoat more firmly around her. Alec leaned over and tucked a fold of the material at the hem under her knees. It was such an unexpected gesture that she couldn’t look at him. She pretended she’d barely noticed. But when she gave him a furtive sideways glan
ce he caught her looking and grinned.
‘You’ll soon get warm in the restaurant,’ he said.
He kept a conversation going, mostly about the history of Chippenham, and she was contented to put her head back on the seat and listen to his voice – warm and melodic. And when she made a comment his gaze didn’t falter, as though he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
His vitality reminded her of Doug. She gulped. Tonight, she would try to think only happy things. There was so much misery and cruelty going on that she wanted to have this one evening without thinking sad thoughts. Without discussing the war.
‘The canal and Brunel’s Great Western Railway are what put Chippenham on the map,’ he was saying. ‘Crucial for communications and sending supplies.’
Although it was dark in the cab she could make out the shape of his face studying her.
‘Have you been listening to one word I’ve been saying?’ he chuckled, briefly putting a hand on her arm.
She gave a jolt as a spark of electricity shot up her arm.
‘Of course I have,’ she said, embarrassed she’d been caught out but keen not to let him see it. ‘I’ve been hanging on your every word.’
‘Hmm. I doubt that. I’ll test you later. Then we’ll see how much you’ve taken in,’ he said, and even though it was dark, Raine could still make out his grin.
Ten minutes later the taxi driver pulled up on the side of the river overlooking a row of Tudor buildings.
‘The one second from the right is the White Rose.’ The driver pointed. ‘This is the nearest I can take you, but if you walk over the bridge it’s right there.’
‘Thanks.’
Alec paid him and opened his door, putting out his hand to help Raine. He held onto it for a few seconds then abruptly let go.
‘Right,’ he said crisply. ‘Let’s get going before we freeze to death.’
