The entire squadron leaned forward to see what she had done to the blueprints, expecting some sweeping change to Gwen’s plans that would keep the essence of Dragonfly. Instead, though, they just found five neat parallel lines through the last three letters of the aircraft’s name in the bottom corner of the sheet of paper.
Abby smiled at them. ‘If Dragonfly is going to evolve into something fiercer she’s going to need a name to match.’ She looked at Potter and MacTavish. ‘Dragon is all yours, gentlemen.’
The two mechanics grinned almost identical delighted grins, before nodding their acknowledgement.
Potter turned to Gwen and gestured to the plans. ‘Ma’am? May I?’
Gwen gave her assent and he whisked them away, hurrying off to Dragonfly, Dragon now, with the naval mechanic, the two of them already deep in debate about how to proceed. The rest of the fitters and mechanics who had gathered to watch also drifted away, leaving only the pilots, who looked at Abby with not a little concern.
She just scowled at them, though. ‘What the hell are you lot gawking at? Thanks to Stone here we’ve got even more work to do, so back to it! Come on! Chop chop!’
Once the pilots had wandered away, laughing among themselves, Abby let the scowl slip from her face. She sighed and turned back to Gwen.
She waved at the blueprints. ‘I have to confess that I have no idea what the capabilities of this aircraft will be, it’s so far beyond my design capabilities and imagination as to be laughable. Maybe Mac or Penny could make head or tail of her, but not me. What do you expect?’
‘I’m projecting that it will be almost as fast as Hawk, but just as manoeuvrable as Sable or Raptor.
‘Bloody hell...’ Abby blinked in shock then peered down at the design, as if trying to decipher it. ‘And how did you come up with this?’
‘It’s actually a concept that I’ve been playing with for quite some time, but there was always a piece missing.’
Gwen tapped the huge propeller and Abby nodded.
‘Not enough power.’
‘Correct. Excalibur reaches her best flying point around three hundred miles an hour. Previous springs wouldn’t get her anywhere near that.’
Abby took one last long look at the plans then smiled wryly. ‘Well, it looks like you’ve done it again. Now, why don’t you put this away and pitch in with some of the extra work you’ve created for us. We need to get those modifications done if Dragon is going to have a hope in hell of keeping up with Excalibur.’
Chapter 5
Gwen bit her lip as she checked her reflection in the dormitory mirror for what must have been the fiftieth time. She didn’t consider herself the best looking woman at the best of times and the RAC day uniform didn’t exactly do much to help, but at least she was an officer now and the cut of her new uniform was rather more elegant than that of her old NCO one.
‘Will you come on, already! We’re going to be late!’
Gwen glanced over to where Kitty was leaning against the door jamb, tapping her foot impatiently.
It didn’t seem to matter whether she was wearing full dress uniform or dirty work coveralls with a filthy face, Kitty was always beautiful. That night she looked particularly good because she had actually made a bit of an effort, pressing and starching her uniform and, despite regulations (which the Misfits largely ignored), her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders in a golden cascade.
All of which just served to make Gwen feel worse about her own appearance.
As if sensing her thoughts, Kitty pushed herself away from the wall and strode over on long, lithe legs. She grabbed Gwen by the shoulders, turning her to face her, then bent forwards to press their lips together.
Gwen found herself melting in the woman’s strong arms, feeling as if her legs would give way beneath her if Kitty let her go. All too soon, though, the woman was pulling back and Gwen reopened eyes which had closed involuntarily to find Kitty smiling down at her.
‘You’re beautiful, Gwen. Never forget that.’
It was a good few seconds before she could recover enough presence of mind to get her feet back under her and she gave Kitty a disapproving frown when she caught sight of her rumpled clothing and smeared lipstick in the mirror.
‘And you’re incorrigible.’
Kitty laughed, then reached out to use her thumb to wipe away the smudges on Gwen’s face. Her own makeup, of course, was still perfect, probably the result of the American cosmetics she wore. ‘There, good as new. Now, stop fretting and let’s get a damn move on!’
She dragged Gwen away from the mirror and out of the room.
‘You came!’
Gwen and Kitty were barely through the door before they were confronted by a squealing Polly, who had obviously been keeping an eye out for them. She disengaged herself from the group of people she was speaking to, one of dozens filling the space, and bounded towards them, drawing the attention of every person in the room. She hugged them in turn, then grabbed them both by the hand.
‘Come and meet my friends!’
Gwen was all too conscious of the eyes that followed them as the girl all but dragged them across the moderately-sized recreation room where the meeting-cum-party was being held. She looked across at Kitty, wondering how she was taking it and was not surprised to see that the American was completely unperturbed and smiling broadly.
Gwen was, however, surprised when she saw a very familiar face among Polly’s group and couldn’t stop herself showing it. ‘Mr Simkin!’
Polly immediately tutted, her eyes glinting over her smile. ‘No ranks or surnames, please, ladies. We’re all on a first name basis here.’
Gwen blushed slightly. ‘Sorry!’
‘No matter; you weren’t to know.’ The girl shook her head, then waved at the young Midshipman, who blushed and gave them a shy nod. ‘You’ve already met Billy, and these are Archie, Regina, Tabatha and Nancy. Guys, this is Gwen and Kitty.’
As soon as the introductions were done Polly smoothly took the conversation back to where she and the group had left off. Of all things they were talking about cricket, something that Gwen didn’t know too much about or liked very much. Thankfully, rather than discussing the sport itself, they were debating whether nations who didn’t play it were more aggressive as a result, with Archie and Billy Simkin citing the problems with Prussia during the previous half century as conclusive proof.
Bruce would have been horrified at the way his beloved sport was being discussed with complete disregard for the game itself, but Gwen found herself laughing at the ridiculous yet credible arguments put forwards, both for and against, while simultaneously impressed by how convincing the men and women made them, betraying both their intellect and sense of humour.
The conversation evolved naturally onto other subjects, as all conversations do, but even though they never approached anything unseemly or unacceptable in polite society, Gwen found herself becoming more and more uncomfortable. After about half an hour, she excused herself, pleading thirst, then grabbed Kitty’s arm and pulled her away towards the buffet table next to the entrance.
They stood with their backs to the table, surveying the activity in the room, sipping at Kvass and nibbling on small pieces of toast covered with caviar, which Gwen had developed a taste for in Muscovy simply because it had been the only thing without beetroot in it.
Gwen frowned, unable to find the source of her unease.
Kitty saw her expression and grinned. ‘Not quite what you were expecting?’
Gwen shook her head. ‘Not in the slightest.’
‘So what were you expecting?’
‘Well, not something this normal, that’s for sure.’ Gwen smiled wryly when Kitty laughed. ‘At university there was an amateur theatre society and the members, mostly male, were always in the union, pawing at each other while they drank. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other with how camp they could be, calling each other “ducky” and “darling”, and being overtly... well, you know.’
Kitty laughed. ‘They’re theatricals, they’re obliged to act like that, no matter their preferences! And as for their overt sexuality,’ she shrugged, ‘some of us are like that, but most aren’t.’
‘That’s a relief!’ Gwen grinned, but then she became serious. She put her drink on the table and turned to face Kitty. ‘Right, then, now that I’m here and any chance I have at keeping this a secret is well and truly gone, what do we call ourselves? I know what other people call us, but I hate those names. So, tell me, what is acceptable to us? That name Polly has on her leaflet? “Likes”? That feels a bit awkward to me.’
‘Well, look at you all serious, ducky!’
Kitty pouted and flounced, laying her hand on Gwen’s arm, then laughed at the sour expression she received in return. ‘Sorry, couldn’t resist, and no, “likes” is just a codeword that we all understand, but few people use. Homosexual is safe, but it’s a bit clinical. I personally prefer lesbian, which has its origins in an ancient Greek poet, Sappho, who lived on the island of Lesbos, but most people use gay, because it can refer to both men and women. And besides, it just sounds happy, right?’
‘I suppose.’ Gwen considered the words.
She hadn’t come across most of them before; homosexuality wasn’t really spoken about in Britain, but then again neither was any kind of sexuality, it was just accepted as existing, then left for the privacy of the bedroom. Unfortunately, some countries weren’t so tolerant and homosexuals were insulted, or worse, accused of being unnatural and persecuted.
‘I think I like lesbian best, but I don’t mind gay; you’re right, it does make us sound like happy people.’
‘Lesbian it is then!’ Kitty chuckled.
They both looked up as the door next to them opened and were startled when the captain, Johnathan Hewer slipped in, surprisingly unobtrusively for such a big man. He saw them and moved over to join them, grinning widely among his copious facial hair.
‘Evening, Captain.’ Gwen said with a nod, then grimaced when Kitty rolled her eyes at her. ‘Oops, sorry.’
The captain laughed, a low belly-rumbling noise. ‘No matter! Gwen, isn’t it? And, sorry, I want to say Katherine, but...’
‘Kitty.’
‘And you can call me Johnathan.’ He fixed himself a drink, downed it, poured another, then nursed it as he looked around the room. ‘Good turn out.’ He nodded appreciatively, then turned back to them. ‘Are you enjoying yourselves?’
Gwen nodded. ‘We are, uh, Johnathan. We’re just taking a bit of a breather to get some refreshments.’
‘Good, good.’ He smiled knowingly and tilted his head towards the mingling men and women. ‘They can be a bit overwhelming sometimes, which is why I always try to be fashionably late, but they’re good people if you give them a chance.’
‘Oh, it’s not that!’ protested Gwen. ‘I’m just... well...’
Kitty put her arm around Gwen, coming to her rescue. ‘Gwen here is still a little bit new to our little world.’
‘Ah, I see.’ The captain nodded in understanding.
‘And you?’ Gwen asked, curious despite herself. ‘Are you a part of... this?’ She waved her hand vaguely.
The captain chuckled and glanced at Kitty. ‘You weren’t joking when you said she was new!’ He looked back at Gwen. ‘As captain I am responsible for the entire crew. I would show my face at this and any such gathering on my ship to let them know that they have my approval, no matter my own leanings.’ He grinned at her, a twinkle in his eye. ‘However, some such gatherings are much more to my liking than others.’
He saluted them with his drink then sauntered off, putting a slight sway to his hips that wasn’t usually there and winking at them over his shoulder.
Gwen laughed in delight and was amazed to find that all her doubts about her love for a woman had been completely dispelled by the ludicrous sight of the captain of such a powerful ship being so open about his tastes and not a little effeminate, especially after the powerful spectacle he had provided as the Lord of the Winter Sea on the voyage to Muscovy.
She turned to Kitty and stood on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s lips. ‘Come on, I want to mingle a bit.’
Kitty blinked at her in surprise, then smiled. ‘Sounds good to me.’ She wrapped her arm around Gwen’s waist and pulled her close as they went back to the party.
After an hour of casual conversation, everybody grabbed a folding chair from a stack in an adjacent store room and sat down to listen to a couple of informal talks. Both talks were presented with humour by their exponents, but one of them, an absurd monologue on the correct choice of under clothes for the first night with a new lover, illustrated by examples of the mistakes that the woman in question had herself made, had the people in stitches.
After the talks, more food was brought out, along with tin mess plates and the people were encouraged to wander around, speaking to people they didn’t know.
Polly separated Gwen and Kitty with a smile, explaining that it was intimidating enough to try to speak to one hero, let alone two of them at the same time, but even then, for a while nobody approached Gwen. She was feeling much more comfortable, though, and after she had introduced herself to a few men and women she was all but swamped by people wanting to get to know her. Rationally she knew that it was because she was a Misfit, but a part of her wanted to think that Kitty had been telling the truth and she was a little bit attractive.
The meeting finally broke up just before midnight, in plenty of time for the change of watch and the two Misfit pilots bid Polly goodnight, thanked her for such an enjoyable time and wandered towards their billet.
Gwen smiled contentedly as she and Kitty walked arm in arm. She was tired but very happy that they had gone and more sure of herself than she had been in months.
Chapter 6
The men and women of the machine shop worked around the clock to adjust Dragon’s frame, reshape her panels and produce her new wings. As predicted by the naval mechanic, Jack MacTavish, the modifications were finished in just under five days, however, a full test was needed before she could be pronounced airworthy. Unfortunately, there was no chance for her to fly because the weather continued to be far too bad.
During that time, the convoy forged on homewards, barely seeming to make any progress against waves that seemed almost as tall as the Brunel Tower of Buckingham Palace. The Misfits were extremely glad to be aboard the Arturo, because the immense ship was barely moved by the sea’s fury, even at the height of the storm, but Dorothy Campbell and Freddy Featherstonehaugh, travelling in the flagship, reported that even some of the most experienced sailors were having trouble keeping their food down in the smaller ships. However, even if the Arturo had been pitching and rolling like the other ships, it was unlikely that the Misfits would have noticed, so engrossed were they with their own machines and the new project. Mac finally surfaced as well, although he didn’t do much in the way of work, which was just as well, because he was never very far from a bottle.
Finally, after eight days of driving snow and gales, the clouds parted and the winds calmed. Even though there were only a couple of hours before dark, none of the Misfits or the mechanics wanted to miss out on the chance of seeing what Dragon could do and permission was obtained from the captain for Abby to test her. However, as luck would have it, just as she was putting on her flightsuit, a priority message arrived for her.
Badgers to Smoke, however possible and with all haste. George R.
The message was easy enough to decipher. George R was the King, of course, and London had garnered many nicknames over the years, but the one that had been most appropriate and had stuck, even after most coal fires in the city had been replaced by gas, was that of “The Old Smoke”. It had been adopted by the war office as the codeword for the capital in coded communications. Also the way it had asked for “Badgers” and not “Badger Squadron” was fairly clear - for some reason it was the pilots who were needed, not their aircraft.
&nb
sp; What was of most concern to Abby, though, was the part of the message that read “however possible and with all haste”. It spoke of an urgency that was going to be hard, if not impossible, to carry out and she immediately abandoned all thoughts of a joyride in Dragon and rushed to the bridge to speak with the captain. He was already aware of the contents of the message, though, and was deep in discussion with his first officer, Commander Twining, about how to best obey the order.
They quickly, but reluctantly, came to the conclusion that there was only one way to carry out the orders; the smaller Misfit aircraft were well out of range of the British Isles and would be for days, so there was nothing for it but to leave them behind and go in Dreadnought, the only aircraft that could make it and had the capacity to take all the pilots. However, even the big aircraft would be hard-pressed to reach British territory and the Arturo was going to need to close the distance somewhat before she took off. That meant abandoning its relatively safe course to Iceland and steaming directly for home, perilously close to Norway and waters that were Prussian-controlled and likely infested with undersea boats.
So, only fifteen minutes after the telegraph machine had stopped chattering, the Arturo, along with three agile and heavily-armed obliteration-class escort ships, broke off from the main convoy, stoked their boilers and steamed at full speed directly for Britain. At the same time, the process of swaying the separate pieces of the newly-repaired Dreadnought through the side bulkheads and up to the flight deck using the waist cranes was begun and the entire complement of Misfit fitters and Navy mechanics raced to assemble her.
While all that was going on, the pilots packed, readying to leave the Arturo for the last time. Due to restrictions on weight and space, they couldn’t take everything with them, so they put some essentials in a kitbag along with their dress uniforms and gave the rest to Mister Simkin to be stowed and transported with their aircraft to wherever the Misfits ended up, which would most likely be Bagshot Hall, unless the King had other orders for them.
A Misfit Midwinter Page 4
