A SISTER’S COURAGE
Molly Green

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Molly Green 2019

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © Rekha Arcangel / Arcangel Images (Women), Stephen Mulcahey / Arcangel Images (Airfield), Shutterstock.com (Sky and planes)

Molly Green asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008332440

Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008332457

Version: 2019-11-22

Dedication

To all those remarkable women in the Air Transport Auxiliary who risked their lives every day to make sure their male counterparts had the planes they urgently needed for training and combat. There were 168 female pilots including four female engineers who joined the ATA during the war years, along with their male counterparts – sadly, there were a number of fatalities.

I would like to make a special dedication to Pauline Gower, a qualified pilot before the war with her own aviation business, who successfully fought for the right of female pilots to be allowed to join the Air Transport Auxiliary along with the men, and was appointed Senior Commander of the women’s section.

Before the war it was unheard of for women to have equal pay in any job whatsoever, but in May 1943 Miss Gower was the first person in any company or organisation to obtain equal pay for the women pilots in the Air Transport Auxiliary. She pushed home the point that her pilots were doing exactly the same job and taking exactly the same risks every day as the men. She refused to take no for an answer – a truly outstanding achievement.

Unfortunately, after the war, the gap between male and female pilots’ pay was once again firmly in place.

Tragically, in 1947 Pauline Gower died at only 36 having just given birth to twin sons who thankfully survived. Who knows what more she might have achieved if she’d had a longer life?

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Before …

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Acknowledgements

Reading List

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Molly Green

About the Publisher

Before …

Bromley, Kent, April 1936

‘Can I go up, Daddy? Please.’

‘Your mother said I was not to let you.’ Raine’s father looked down at his daughter, taller than most fourteen-year-olds, with long, spindly arms and legs. He couldn’t help smiling at the set of her chin, her clear violet eyes, just like her mother’s, the long dark wavy hair lifting slightly in the breeze. Yes, she was a beautiful girl – everyone said so. Which was why her mother was determined to protect her.

‘I don’t know why you want her to go and see such a dangerous performance,’ Simone said when he’d told her he was taking their daughter to watch Cobham’s Flying Circus perform at West Malling. ‘But if you insist to go against my wishes you must not allow her into one of those contraptions.’

‘You should come with us.’ Robert gazed at his wife fondly. She was French, twenty-one years younger than him, and she tried hard during their marriage to keep him in line. Sometimes it worked. But not today. He intended to keep his promise to his daughter to at least take her to watch the spectacle.

‘You think I want my shoes muddy, my coat splashed in some ’orrible field?’ she’d said, her eyes flashing.

Simone didn’t know how seductive she looked when she was annoyed, Robert thought, his mouth curling in amusement. And how delightful her accent, which she was so sure she’d lost ten years ago.

‘I shall find out if she goes up,’ Simone had warned.

Now, looking at his daughter’s pleading expression, Robert relented. ‘If I let you, Raine, you must promise faithfully not to tell your mother. We would both be in terrible trouble.’ He looked down at his daughter with affection. ‘You know, you do rather take after your mother in your determination when you’ve made up your mind about something.’

Raine beamed. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it, Daddy?’

He laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose it is. It might carry you through life. On the other hand, you might be in for some huge disappointments.’

Raine gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I promise I won’t say anything, Daddy.’

‘Good girl. Now let’s find out how long we’ll have to wait in the queue.’

Robert strolled across the field to collect his daughter as the biplane touched down. He had to admit his heart had thumped in his ears as he’d watched every second of the plane’s progress, knowing his precious daughter was strapped into the ‘flimsy contraption’, as Simone had called it. But when his eyes alighted on his daughter’s shining face as she ran light-footed over the grass towards him, he smiled to himself that he hadn’t tried to clip her wings.

‘It was wonderful, Daddy. I didn’t feel sick at all.’ The words tumbled from her lips in her exhilaration. ‘The pilot – he said I could call him Jim …’ She took in a quick noisy breath. ‘He thought I was scared when I called out, but it was only ’cos I was so excited. I felt like a bird … or a kite.’ She laughed. ‘I wish you could have come with me, Daddy. You’d have loved it. And guess what …?’

‘I couldn’t possibly.’ But he knew without guessing.

‘One day I’m going to be a pilot!’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

She stared at him, a defiant expression crossing her face.

‘I’m very sure, Daddy, and you and Maman won’t be able to stop me!’

Chapter One

February 1939

‘I’m so proud of you, darling.’

Raine’s father removed his spectacles and regarded her. She was sitting opposite him in his study, a room stuffed with books, papers and files. Blotting paper, pens and pencils littered his desk, and his beloved wireless set perched on a bookcase. He was holding the paper with the results of Raine’s test, the one that would give an indication as to what she might expect when she took her Higher National Certificate in the summer. He glanced at the paper again.

‘You’re up for top marks in mathematics.’ He looked up and caught her eye. ‘I’m not surprised. You gained a distinction in your School Certificate.’ He continued reading. ‘A pass in history and scripture, and credits in English, science and geography … even French. You’ll be able to converse with your mother in her native language at long last.’ His eyes twinkled as he looked at her and Raine gave a ghost of a smile.

Her father was well aware her mother was an impatient woman who couldn’t stand more than a couple of minutes’ French conversation with Raine without criticising her. Everyone in Raine’s French class envied her having a French mother she could practise with and who helped with her pronunciation and grammar.

If only they knew.

‘Well, there’s no question why you’ve got these results,’ her father broke into her thoughts, ‘being the brains of the family.’

Raine shrugged. ‘It’s only an indication, Dad. Who knows what the results will be when I take the proper exam. I’m not banking on anything in case I disappoint you. And I don’t want to be known as the brains in the family, either. Look at Suzanne with her music. She’s incredible the way she follows all those music scores and can play two instruments beautifully – the only one in the family who’s musical.’

Her father paused to pull out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Don’t know where she gets it from. Certainly not from me,’ he said, shaking one out. ‘But it’s marvellous, all the same.’

Raine noticed his hand was a little unsteady as he flicked the lighter. She noticed his hair was thinning and his eyes had heavy bags under them. She saw the deepening lines from his nose to his mouth. Maman had encouraged him to go into partnership with two other accountants eighteen months ago and Raine feared the extra responsibility was taking its toll on his health. Come to think of it, her father didn’t look very happy these days, either. She supposed he was getting old. She always forgot he was so much older than her mother.

‘But that doesn’t take away your achievement,’ her father continued, drawing on his cigarette and blowing out the smoke in a long stream through his nose.

She waited. She knew exactly what was coming, but today she had her answer prepared … and her request.

Her father took in another long drag and exhaled. Raine felt her eyes stinging but knew better than to say anything. Her father’s study was his haven. Even her mother wasn’t allowed in unless invited, and very definitely not Doreen, the cleaning lady, unless he was present. He always said he knew exactly where everything was, even though the papers and books piled on his desk were in danger of cascading any minute.

‘We’ve touched on the subject before, Raine. Maybe a little too soon when you were hardly old enough to make a decision, but I hope with these excellent marks – especially the one in mathematics – you’ll take up my offer to start a career in the company.’ She remained silent. ‘I know it will be harder for you to be accepted as a girl, but I can help overcome any problems on that front.’

Raine bristled. ‘Dad, I intend to fight my own battles. It would be awful if you interfered like that. Can you imagine what would it look like, one of the partners giving his daughter a shove up the ladder? They’d resent me and there’d be nothing you could do to stop it.’

Her father’s voice hardened a fraction. ‘What are you saying, Lorraine?’

‘That I’m not going to work in the company. I’m sorry, Dad, but I’m not interested in accounting – I’ve told you before – so I wouldn’t be any good at the job.’

‘Raine, I’m offering you a proper career – you’ll thank me one day. Then when the time comes and you decide to marry – though I’m not sure who would put up with you, you’re such an independent miss – at least you’ll have something solid behind you, should you ever need it.’

‘Thank you, Dad, but no. I’m not doing it. And as for getting married, I’ve no intention of doing that, either – not for a very long time, if ever. I want to see something of the world. Live a little. Not be stuck in some deadly office doing deadly figures with deadly people.’

Frustration rose in her chest as she sprang up to leave, but her father put his hand on her shoulder and firmly pressed her down in the chair again.

‘Not so fast, Lorraine,’ he said, his voice stern.

As though I’m a little girl, Raine thought, annoyed. She sat in sulky silence.

‘Didn’t they teach you better manners at that expensive school we sent you to? Your mother is very upset with your outbursts lately.’

He never called Raine by her full name unless he was displeased with her. It was the first time he’d ever used the cost of her school to make a point. Inwardly, Raine cringed. She’d always adored her father, but these days he rarely stuck up for her against her mother, who used every feminine trick to twist him round her little finger. Raine swallowed her scorn. Batting her eyelashes and looking up adoringly to some man to get her own way was not something she could ever contemplate. If she didn’t stand firm now, he and Maman would take over her life. She looked unwaveringly back at him.

‘You’re very stubborn,’ her father went on when she remained silent, ‘and that’s not always something to be proud of. You remind me so much of your mother.’ His face softened as he gave a rueful smile. ‘And I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t think the world of you both.’

She threw off his words with a laugh as if they were of no consequence to her, but deep inside she knew her father was right. She was stubborn. No matter how hard she tried to be tolerant, if someone couldn’t see things the way she did, she lost all patience.

‘Don’t you see, Raine, it’s because we love you and want the best for you.’

‘I want more from life than what you and Maman seem to have mapped out for me,’ she fairly snapped back. ‘A trainee accountant, for however long that lasts. And all I’d have at the end of it would be my name on a brass plate on the door. Can you imagine?’ She pulled a face.

‘You’d be a partner in time.’

Raine snorted. ‘Me? A woman?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I doubt it. But it’s not what I want, anyway.’

‘Well, what do you want?’

Raine shook her head, her mouth tight. She knew she was letting her father down. That his dream had always been that she’d join his company one day and become a full-blown accountant. All because mathematics came easy to her. She wished she’d failed her mathematics test now. If she had, she might not be sitting here, facing her father, fighting for her future.

‘Didn’t you get any career advice at school?’

‘Oh, heaps.’ Raine rolled her eyes. ‘Nursing … teaching … secretary … vet’s assistant. Why didn’t they tell us to aim higher – become a doctor … or headmistress … or go into politics, now we have the vote? No, not that, on second thoughts,’ she added hastily, in case her father took her up on it. ‘Actually, I’d hate that.’

‘Strangely enough, you’d probably be good at it,’ he said. ‘You certainly wouldn’t let the opposition get a word in.’ He drew in another lungful of smoke, blew it out in a stream, some escaping through his nose, then ground the stub in his ashtray. ‘Well, I have to say, Lorraine, I’m disappointed. It would’ve been good to know when the day comes you’ll be there to carry on the name.’

Her heart squeezed as she studied her father. What was he hinting at? Now she thought about it, he was suddenly looking a lot older. Not just tired but exhausted. She felt a flash of sympathy for him. However hard he worked she knew it was never quite enough to keep Maman satisfied. But if she caved in, she’d be the one to be unhappy. She drew in a deep breath.

‘I want to do something exciting with my life. Something challenging – learning new skills.’ She gazed at her father, imploring him to understand. ‘Dad, have you forgotten what I told you I wanted to be that day at the flying circus?’

Her father momentarily closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘No, Raine, I haven’t. But if you won’t come into the business and you don’t have any other sound ideas, I think you’d better concentrate on getting a distinction in your Higher Certificate. That would make your mother proud that her faith in you is justified.’

‘But will you let me take flying lessons on weekends? I don’t want to put it off any longer. Please, Dad, say I can. You know it’s what I want to do more than anything in the world. I’ve never changed my mind. I’ll never be happy unless I can learn to fly.’ She held her breath.

He gave her a look she couldn’t fathom.

‘You’re not yet eighteen. Far too young to take flying lessons, and I know your mother will say the same.’

‘Boys no older than me are pilots.’ Raine held her father’s gaze. ‘If I’d been a boy, you wouldn’t have said that,’ she flashed. ‘Would you?’

‘I don’t know, love. I’m not used to sons. I’ve only got three lovely daughters.’

He smiled and she knew he was trying to soften the blow. But she wouldn’t allow herself to be softened. This was too important.

Her father lit another cigarette. ‘Well, Raine, I’ll have a word with your mother, but I don’t think it’ll get you anywhere.’

Raine frowned. ‘Why can’t you stand up to her for a change? Why does she always have to have the last word? She’ll never agree. She’s too French. All she wants is for me to look pretty and dress like a Frenchwoman and marry a rich man. Preferably on the other side of the Channel so she has an excuse to visit France. And that’s not what I want at all. What’s right for her is not right for me, but she’ll never see it.’

Her father patted her hand. ‘Enough, Raine. I’ve told you I’ll speak to her.’

‘No, I will not permit Lorraine to take lessons for flying.’ Simone’s voice rose.

When Raine had decided to go by the name she called herself when she was little – she couldn’t pronounce ‘Lorraine’ – her father had immediately humoured her, except when he was displeased. But her mother had simply ignored her request, telling her she was quite ridiculous to give up her lovely French name. And no amount of foot-stamping by the little girl would alter her mother’s attitude.

Now, in the sitting room, her parents were talking about her as though she wasn’t there. Raine pressed her lips together. She was old enough to be treated as an adult. She could make her own decisions. They must see how important it was for her.

‘Why won’t you?’ Raine demanded.

Her mother swung round, her eyes darkening with anger.

‘Because I say so.’

‘That’s not good enough, Maman,’ Raine said, pushing down her fury and speaking in a measured tone. If she showed any childish sign, her mother would leap on it. She knew that from past experience.

‘You had better explain to her, Robert.’ Simone gave a theatrical sigh and turned on her husband, her tone cool. ‘I’m going to take a headache pill and have a lie-down.’

‘I know we can afford it,’ Raine said when her mother had left the room. ‘And I’ll scream if Maman says one more time how dangerous it is. It’s no more dangerous than skiing and everyone does that without even thinking about it.’

‘Sit down, Raine. I’m afraid I have something to tell you, which your mother and I have tried to keep to ourselves rather than upset you girls.’

Raine perched on one of the leather armchairs, leaning forward. What on earth was coming? Her father drew his eyebrows together as he did when he had something important to say. She braced herself.

‘I’m glad we were able to give you and Suzanne a good education, darling, but we won’t be able to do the same for Ronnie.’

What’s he talking about? Oh, of course.

She breathed out. ‘Ronnie’s the first to admit she’s not brainy,’ Raine said, ‘so it would probably be wasted on her anyway.’

‘No education is ever wasted,’ her father reprimanded. ‘It’s not that at all. Ronnie deserves the same education as her sisters. But I won’t beat about the bush. You’re old enough to know the truth.’ He looked directly at Raine. ‘I’m afraid I’ve lost quite a lot of money.’

Raine gazed at her father in horror.

‘How?’

Her father wouldn’t meet her eye.

‘I don’t want to go into it at the moment,’ he said flatly. ‘Just take it from me that flying lessons are out of the question for the time being. So please don’t mention it again.’

‘What about Maman …?’ Raine said desperately. ‘Hasn’t she got some money of her own?’

‘She has a little tucked away and that’s what I was hoping she might use. I’ve tried hard to persuade her on your behalf, but she’s completely against women flying … especially her daughter. She maintains it’s not feminine. That it’s too dangerous. She’s terrified something bad will happen to you. It’s a man’s job, she says. I must say I don’t totally disagree, though I think you’d probably be an exception.’

Rage stuck in Raine’s throat. Anger for her father for being foolish enough to lose his money and not strong enough to stand up to his adored wife who had independent means. Fury with her mother for being so narrow-minded and not understanding how learning to fly meant everything in the world to her.

She had a sudden thought and managed to swallow before she spoke. ‘Are we going bankrupt?’

Her father sighed. ‘No. Your mother won’t allow that to happen. But we’re going to have to move to a smaller house.’

The shock almost sent her reeling.

‘But I like living here.’

She couldn’t bear the idea of leaving. Leaving their beautiful Edwardian house in the enormous garden full of trees and flowers with lawn stretching for what seemed like miles when they were children. Where she and her sisters had played hide-and-seek, where they’d kept chickens for years until one day the fox got them. Tender-hearted Suzanne, who refused to eat the chicken Maman had subsequently served, had cried for days until her father built a stronger coop and bought another clutch of hens from the local farmer.

Raine’s heart beat furiously.

‘I’m afraid it’s not up to you, Raine.’

‘It sounds like you and Maman have everything already planned,’ Raine said, not bothering to disguise the bitter edge to her words. ‘Where will we go … and when do we have to leave here?’

‘A family have been to see the house and made an offer. It’s a fair one and will get us out of debt. But there won’t be much over – we’ll have to rent somewhere.’

‘And then what will happen to us?’

‘We’ll be all right so long as we’re careful. You might have to share a bedroom with your sister. And flying lessons, I’m afraid, can’t come into it. You’re nearly an adult.’ He regarded her as though he still couldn’t believe it and shook his head. ‘You should seriously be thinking about a vocation.’

‘What if there’s a war? Everyone talks about it all the time. Another one with Germany. They said as much on Pathé News last night when Sally and I went to the cinema.’

‘I don’t think it will happen,’ her father said, his eyes sad. ‘People haven’t forgotten the last war, a war to end all wars, and Mr Chamberlain secured the current peace treaty when he went to Munich last year.’

‘But a piece of paper doesn’t necessarily mean anything if Hitler’s mad enough,’ Raine argued, ‘and if I was a pilot—’

‘They’d never allow girls … women … to fly,’ her father interrupted. ‘Look at the RAF. They don’t even have a women’s section, let alone women pilots. You’re wasting your time. And you wouldn’t be able to take the discipline, even if they did. Believe me, Raine, I know you better than you know yourself.’ He paused. ‘But I also know something else about you. You’re a very determined young woman. If it’s your heart’s desire and you really want to learn to fly, you’ll find a way to pay for the lessons yourself.’

Raine threw him a long hard look and without another word, leapt up and marched out of the door, slamming it behind her, ignoring his order to come back. She went up to her room, the room she’d had to herself since she was twelve. Her mother had actually allowed her to choose the paint colour and curtain material and even the rug. Would she miss all that? No. She wasn’t sentimental about the house. Not like Suzanne. Raine loved changes, challenges, variety. No, it was because she couldn’t bear the thought of the humiliation. Her father’s humiliation and the family’s.

She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hands to her face. Simply being in her room gave her the privacy she craved. Sharing with one of her sisters? Unthinkable. Her chest coiled as tight as a jack-in-the-box and she was ready to lash out at anyone.

She went over every word of the conversation with her father. Why wouldn’t he tell her how he’d lost a load of money? She supposed he was too embarrassed to talk about it. Or her mother had forbidden him to tell her the truth. And there were two other questions he hadn’t answered: when they were moving and where.

Beaten, she burst into tears.

Chapter Two

March 1939

The night before the move Raine heard Suzanne crying through the wall of her bedroom next door. She sprang out of bed and rushed into her sister’s room.

‘Come on, Suzy.’ She put her arm around the shaking shoulders. ‘Come on – don’t take on so.’

‘I can’t bear to leave,’ Suzanne sobbed, the words muffled in her pillow.

‘We’ve got to put up with it,’ Raine said. ‘Dad will get his bills paid off.’ She smiled at her sister, though she didn’t particularly feel like smiling. ‘It won’t be all bad.’

‘But we’re moving miles away … to some village I’ve hardly heard of … away from everyone we know.’

‘You haven’t been concentrating in your history lessons.’ Raine gave her sister’s shoulders a little shake. ‘Downe is where Charles Darwin lived. It might be interesting to see his house. And if you look on the map you’ll see that Bromley isn’t far. There’ll be a bus from the village, so there’s no need to worry about your music lessons—’

‘I’ll have to give them up,’ Suzanne interrupted as she sat up on the bed and sniffed.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘How can Maman and Dad afford them?’

‘They can because Maman has her own money. She won’t let you go without your lessons. That comes before food on the table as far as she’s concerned.’

Suzanne narrowed her eyes. ‘Why would she do that when you’re not allowed to have flying lessons – and you’re the eldest?’

‘There’s only enough for one luxury and you’re the favourite.’

‘Course I’m not.’

‘You are. Always have been. And you’re jolly lucky Ronnie and I don’t hate you for it.’ Suzanne opened her mouth to protest but Raine stopped her. ‘You’re the one who’s really talented. You know Maman’s mania for culture.’ She caught her sister’s eye. ‘Not that we don’t all appreciate your pathetic squeakings on the violin, over and over and over …’ She chuckled and Suzanne giggled.

‘Do I really sound that bad?’

‘Yes,’ Raine said, still laughing, ‘but we’re willing to put up with it because you’ll be famous one day, and we’ll come and watch you perform – and brag to anyone who’ll listen how clever you are.’

Suzanne’s eyes shone with tears. ‘If only that dream would happen one day, but it’s like you wanting to be a pilot. Professional orchestras still refuse to take women – unless you’re a harpist. And even when that miracle happens, you’re kept out of sight in the wings. They don’t even put your name on the programme.’

Raine grimaced. ‘Same old story.’ She looked at her sister. ‘But it doesn’t mean to say it’s impossible, Suzy. We’ll both have to work extra hard to show the men we’re as good, if not better, than they are. We have to keep badgering those in charge until they can’t refuse us. Until then you need to buck up. The sooner we get moved, the sooner we can get on with our lives.’

‘It’s all right for you. You’re much braver than me. I could never argue like you.’

‘You have to learn to do it with a smile,’ Raine said seriously. ‘Act like mad. Be as charming as you can. It’s the only way.’ She looked at her sister. ‘You’ve got just as much determination as me, Suzy, with the way you focus on your music. You’re stronger than you realise.’ Raine gave her sister a hug.

Suzanne reached for her handkerchief underneath her pillow and blew her nose.

‘That’s better,’ Raine said. ‘We have to make the best of it. Look, I don’t want to go any more than you do.’

She knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful with her sister. At first she hadn’t wanted to leave her familiar home, but the moment her father had told her they were moving to Downe her heart had leapt. Not only was it a short bus ride into Bromley, but she’d also discovered it was just a hop and a skip to Biggin Hill where there was a major aerodrome. According to the scale of the map, she’d quickly worked out that the house they were to rent was a mere four-mile cycle ride away. Perhaps her dream was closer to coming true.

A fortnight later …

Every Saturday morning before her mother had risen, Raine cycled from her new home, a semi-detached cottage in Downe, to Biggin Hill. She hung around the aerodrome watching, breathing in the atmosphere, loving every minute. In the early morning all was silent except for an occasional plane coming in to land or taking off, muffling any birdsong. She could think herself into another world, concentrate on its sound, the thrum of the engine, the glamour of the pilot when he stepped down from the open cockpit in his flying suit and whipped off his helmet.

One day that will be me, she told herself.

She’d been a member of the library in Bromley since she was a child, and on her last visit she’d found a book with photographs and descriptions of different aircraft, devouring it with far more enthusiasm than she’d ever done with her homework. Now, standing at the edge of the aerodrome, looking over the gate, she took great delight in recognising them and ticking them off in her notebook, committing them to memory.

This morning she was here particularly early when a man pulled up in his car. He leaned out of the window and smiled. She noticed his eyes, as blue as a summer sky.

‘Hello, there. Want a lift over there so you can see the planes closer up?’

Her heart soared. ‘Oh, yes, please … if you’re sure it’s no trouble.’

‘None whatsoever.’ He smiled again. ‘Jump in, then. Name’s Douglas White. You can call me Doug.’

‘Raine Linfoot.’ She held out her hand and he shook it.

She looked at him with interest. Chestnut hair, nice open face, and wore his uniform with an air of sophistication. Maybe mid-twenties. Too bad he was too old for her. She hid a smile.

‘I’ve seen you hanging around,’ he said as he put the gear into first. ‘Do you fancy having a spin in my plane?’ He turned to her and grinned.

‘Oh, yes, please,’ she said again. ‘Is it really your own aeroplane?’

‘Well, I rent it. I shouldn’t really be doing this,’ he added as they strolled towards the Tiger Moth, Raine’s heart threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘But no one’s here this early except Bob, one of the mechanics. We need him to swing the prop. We’ll just give it twenty minutes, all right?’ He tilted his head. She noted he was actually very good-looking. ‘How old are you, anyway?’

‘Eighteen.’ Only a small fib.

‘Ever been up?’

‘Only once, a few years ago – at Cobham’s Flying Circus.’

‘Were you sick?’

‘No.’

Doug chuckled. ‘Long as you’re not sick in my plane. If you are, you’ll have to clear it up.’ He turned as one of the ground crew called to him.

‘Having an early morning spin, sir?’

‘Morning, Bob. Thought I’d take her up for a few minutes to show this young lady who wants to learn about planes.’

Bob looked doubtful as he lifted his cap to Raine. ‘Righto, sir … miss. I’ll get you started.’

Doug strapped her into the seat of the open cockpit and she felt him take the seat behind her. He handed her a very worn leather flying helmet, but she was so nervous she couldn’t find the strap.

Feeling an idiot, she twisted round to face him. ‘I can’t seem to get this on.’

In seconds her helmet was secure, which did nothing to still her heart, pulsing madly against her ribs. She’d soon be up in the clouds again. It felt a long time since that first flight.

‘Put these on as well.’ He handed her a pair of goggles.

Almost before she’d adjusted them, Doug called out, ‘Contact,’ and Bob swung the propeller.

The engine burst into life and after waiting a few moments, presumably to warm it, Doug signalled to Bob and shouted, ‘Chocks away.’

She saw Bob grab two lengths of rope and jerk the wedges out from under the wheels, then jump smartly out of the way.

A short run and they were airborne, the shock of the cold early morning slapping her face. She was in heaven. She giggled at the thought. She was probably about as close to heaven as she’d ever get. And when she saw the clouds floating above her, looking like candyfloss, and the sun just beginning to show on the horizon, she shouted with joy. She looked this way and that, noticing how the fields below reminded her of Grandma Linfoot’s patchwork quilts, interspersed with doll’s houses – at least that’s what they looked like from her view. Raine pinched herself, happier than she’d ever been since that first flight with Cobham’s Circus.

Without warning, there was a terrific lurch and suddenly she was hanging upside down, only the safety harness keeping her in place. But before she had time to react, the aeroplane righted itself. All too soon Doug brought it down on the grassy field with a couple of gentle bumps.

‘How did you like the slow roll?’ he asked as he helped her from the cockpit.

‘I was too scared to scream. But then I wanted you to do it again.’

‘Didn’t think I’d better under the circumstances,’ Doug chuckled. ‘Maybe next time.’

There’d be a next time. Her heart, which had just settled back to normal, began to pound again.

He was looking at her. She liked the way his blue eyes twinkled.

‘Do you want to go up again?’

‘What, now?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t mean now. I’ve got work to do. But if I see you hanging around again and it’s early enough, we’ll see. For now, let’s get you back.’

This was her chance to tell someone who would understand, she thought, as they approached the gate.

‘What I really want to do is to train to be a pilot … but my parents can’t afford lessons.’ Oh, how she hated admitting that. ‘I need a job,’ she added quickly, hoping he would see she was trying to be independent.

She was gratified that Doug didn’t roll his eyes when she’d mentioned being a pilot.

‘What are you intending to do now, then?’ he said.

‘My dad wants me to be an accountant. Just because I’m good at mathematics and because he’s one, he’s decided it’s a natural choice.’

‘And your mother? What does she say?’

‘Maman?’ Raine grimaced. ‘All she wants is for me to make a good marriage.’

‘Hmm. But you don’t want that.’

‘Definitely not. I want to see something of the world first. But until then I only want to learn to fly. And if there’s a war—’

‘We won’t mention any war,’ he cut in. He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘What about if I put in a word for you? Maybe get you a job over here. Clerk or general dogsbody or something. Nothing glamorous but the good thing is, you wouldn’t be far from Hart’s Flying Club. They rent a small airfield and stick mainly to biplanes, but that’d be perfect for you … and I’m one of their instructors.’

‘I thought you were in the RAF.’

‘I am – but as a volunteer. It’s called the RAFVR. The VR bit means Volunteer Reserve. So when war is declared – and I’m sure it’s going to happen sooner or later – I’ll automatically join the RAF.’

Raine’s heart raced. ‘How far away is the flying club?’

‘About five miles.’ He glanced at her bicycle. ‘No distance on a bike.’

‘Maybe, but I couldn’t afford to be a member of anything like that.’

‘Not in normal circumstances, you probably couldn’t,’ Doug replied, grinning. ‘But the Civil Air Guard are preparing pilots for war. They’re offering subsidised flying lessons at five bob a go. That’s dirt cheap, so you should be able to manage one a week.’

Five shillings. Maybe it was dirt cheap for a flying lesson, but she knew Maman would never give her the money for them. Her mouth tightened with determination as she remembered her father’s words to her in the study that day. She’d pay for them somehow.

‘And who knows’ – Doug was smiling – ‘you might even get me as your instructor. In fact, I’ll put a word in for you at Hart’s and tell them I’d like to teach you if I’m not at Biggin Hill that day.’

‘Oh, Doug, that would be wonderful.’ Raine felt her chest would burst. ‘And do you really think you could get me a job here?’

‘Leave it to me.’ He winked. ‘When are you coming again?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘No, tomorrow’s Sunday. But I think Tuesday would be okay – say, ten o’clock?’

Thankful the school term had ended and it was the start of the Easter holidays, she said, ‘Yes, please, Doug.’ If she had her way and something turned up, she wouldn’t be going back to school.

‘Okay. I’ll meet you at the gate.’ He looked at her and she nodded. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can do.’

Chapter Three

The hours dragged by until Tuesday. When it finally dawned, with raindrops splashing down her bedroom window, Raine hopped out of bed and quickly washed and dressed without disturbing Suzanne. She’d become used to sharing a room now, and Suzy would never betray her.

Would Doug have any news about a job for her? It would be so wonderful if he had. She wouldn’t even cycle over to Hart’s Flying Club and speak to anyone about taking lessons until she knew she could definitely pay for them.

‘Tea, Maman?’ she said as her mother waltzed into the kitchen in her satin dressing gown, looking for all the world like a glamorous film star. How her mother was going to tighten her belt, heaven knew.

‘Thank you, chérie.’

Raine hummed as she poured a cup for herself.

‘You sound very happy today, Lorraine.’ Her mother gave her a sharp look before glancing out of the window at the grey clouds. ‘And on such a morning where it looks as if it will storm.’ She turned round. ‘So why are you so cheerful?’

Raine knew that tone in her mother’s voice. She tried to laugh it off.

‘I’m always happy when I go to the library,’ she said, ‘and that’s where I’m off to.’

‘But you went Saturday.’

Careful, Raine. Maman is already suspicious.

‘I know. I didn’t like what I’d chosen, after all.’

Her mother regarded her thoughtfully, her forehead creasing into a frown.

‘Your hair needs cutting,’ she said finally. ‘It looks most untidy. I will cut it for you this morning since we cannot afford the ’airdresser.’

Alarm rose in Raine’s throat. ‘Maman, I want to go to the library this morning before it gets busy, so you can cut it this afternoon, if you like.’

‘Yes, I do like,’ her mother said. ‘But I like to do it this morning. Until then I will return to my bed. I did not sleep well. Please wake me at half past ten with coffee. This tea tastes ’orrible.’ She swept out.

Raine gazed after her mother. She was sure Maman suspected she was up to something. Well, she was not going to sit docilely while her mother, who had never cut anyone’s hair in her life, hacked at hers this morning. She liked her hair long. She could tie it back from her face or put it up out of the way. She wasn’t going to have Maman’s experimental haircut. No. She had an appointment at Biggin Hill aerodrome and no one – not even Maman – was going to stop her from keeping it.

Raine wasn’t concentrating as her feet automatically pedalled along the lane. A steady drizzle seeped under the collar of her jacket. Her mind was far above in the dark clouds when a rabbit shot in front of her. Swerving across the road to avoid it she landed in a ditch, mud and water clinging to her and the bicycle.

Damn. That’s all I need.

She managed to push the handlebars to one side and climb out, then hauled the bike up. On inspection, she noticed the handlebars were at the wrong angle. She tugged them hard in the opposite direction, but they didn’t budge. Disappointment flooded through her. She’d hardly slept all night, she’d been so excited when Doug had offered to put in a word for her about working at Biggin Hill. She’d be with other pilots – telling them how she longed to learn to fly. Fancy him being one of the instructors at the flying club. And now, when she didn’t turn up, Doug would think she’d lost interest and not bother with her again. Tears sprang to her eyes.

I’ll walk, she told herself fiercely. It can’t take more than an hour, even wheeling the bicycle. But after twenty minutes of pushing the heavy bike she felt a sharp pain stabbing her right arm. She must have fallen more awkwardly than she’d realised. She paused for a minute and impatiently rubbed it, but it only gave her slight relief. She glanced at her watch. Already ten past nine. She would never make it by ten.

Well, it was no good bawling. She’d have to thumb a lift in a lorry or something that could take her bicycle as well.

She stood out on the road, but the only large vehicles were buses that carried on past her to their next scheduled stops. Biting her lip in frustration, her right arm beginning to throb, she made a pact with herself. If nothing suitable comes after five more cars, I’ll stop the next one – whatever it is – even if I have to dump my bicycle.

It was a pony and trap. The driver doffed his cap as the pony clopped by. ‘Morning, miss.’

‘Oh, please stop,’ Raine called desperately.

‘Whoa, there, Matilda,’ he called, pulling the reins as he addressed the horse. ‘Let’s ’ear what the young lady ’as to say for ’erself.’

‘Are you going anywhere near the aerodrome?’

‘Would that be Biggin Hill?’

‘Yes.’

He looked at her. ‘And what would you be doing on an aerodrome, miss?’

‘I work there.’ It wouldn’t hurt to tell him such a fib. ‘But I’ve had an accident on my bicycle and if I don’t get there soon I’ll be late.’

‘You’ll be telling me you’re one of the pilots next.’ He grinned, showing more gaps than teeth. ‘I’m picking up our Ellie but you’re welcome to climb in the back.’

‘Can I bring my bike as well? It’s a bit banged up.’

‘Course you can.’ He grinned again and jumped down. ‘Hang on. I’d better give you a hand.’

He helped her climb in, then picked up the bike, grunting a little as he hoisted it in the air and heaved it into the trap. Raine steadied it against the side as he took up his position.

He turned round. ‘All set?’

‘Yes.’

‘Righto. Off we go.’ He cracked a whip and the pony set up a plodding pace.

It seemed as though they’d gone miles along country lanes before he eventually halted outside a row of terraced cottages and whistled. A woman of indeterminate age wearing a long black skirt and cardigan, slippers on her feet, came to the doorway of the first one.

‘That’s our Ellie.’ He nodded towards the woman. ‘Hey, Ellie,’ he shouted. ‘Get a move on. We’ve got a guest in the back who needs to get to the airfield – sharp!’

The woman nodded and disappeared. A couple of minutes later she came out with a basket on her arm and wearing a pair of scuffed lace-up shoes. She struggled up the step to the spare front seat and turned to look at the ‘guest’.

Raine smiled and said hello, but the woman whispered something to the old man. He shook his head.

‘She tells me she works over yonder at Biggin Hill – the airfield,’ he explained to the woman. ‘She’s damaged her bike, so I’m giving her a lift.’

‘But—’

‘Be still, Ellie. We’re giving her a lift and that’s final.’

Raine’s stomach fluttered with anxiety. Would the woman make her step down? Maybe the best tack would be to keep quiet. She peered at her watch again: seven minutes to ten. She swallowed. If the driver had diverted much to pick up Ellie, whoever she was, Raine knew she’d had it. She’d never get to the aerodrome on time.

She willed herself not to look at her watch any more, but to her relief it was only fourteen minutes past by the time the driver steered his horse off the road to the right, where her heart lifted as she saw the planes lined up at the far end, ready for take-off.

Surely Doug would wait a quarter of an hour before he gave up on her.

‘I believe this is where you wanted to go, love,’ the driver said, turning his head round to her.

‘Yes, thank you.’

He nipped down and put his hand out to help her. Then in a flash he’d swung her bicycle out and set in on the ground.

‘I’m really grateful for the lift,’ Raine said.

‘Always glad to give a lift to a pretty maiden,’ he said as he doffed his cap. With another spring he was back in his seat and urging the horse forward.

The minutes ticked by as Doug failed to appear. Raine glanced at her watch every few seconds, willing him to come. Five minutes passed, then ten, now fifteen – it was gone half past ten. She began to worry, hoping nothing had happened to him. She remembered the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and her pulse quickened. Enough of that. She doubted he’d ever give her the time of day, though if he’d take her up again, he’d be her hero forever.

Someone was loping towards the gate. The man came nearer but to her disappointment, she could see it wasn’t Doug. This man, about the same age, she guessed, was nowhere near as handsome. Still, he was smiling as he ran up to her.

‘Are you Raine?’ he asked as he removed his cap.

She nodded.

‘Andy Strong.’ He paused and studied her. ‘You look like you’ve been in the wars.’

Raine looked down at herself. She was splattered with mud. ‘I fell off my bike,’ she said, ‘and I can’t move the handlebars back.’

Andy glanced at it. ‘Here, let me.’ He took hold of the bicycle and put his legs either side of the front wheel. Then he pulled hard on the handlebars until they were straight. ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘That ought to do it, though you should get that nut tightened up,’ he tapped it to show her, ‘as soon as you can.’ He felt in his jacket pocket. ‘Oh, nearly forgot the reason why I’m here. Doug gave me this to give to you.’ He handed her an envelope marked ‘Raine’ and a long squiggle underneath.

‘Thank you.’ Her heart beat hard as she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a small sheet of paper and read Doug’s scrawl.

Raine, I’m most awfully sorry not to be there this morning as I’d hoped. But I’m definitely on for Saturday morning, same time, if you can be there. Do hope so. There’s a job going which I’m sure you could do. Doug

She read it quickly again then folded the note and tucked it back into the envelope.

‘Any reply?’ Andy asked as he gave her a curious glance.

‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly, the words ‘there’s a job going’ running through her head, making her dizzy with excitement. ‘Yes. Please tell him I’ll be there.’

‘Roger.’ He set his cap back on and, giving her a cheerful wave, ambled off.

She stood staring after him, happy that Doug hadn’t wanted to let her down. Something had turned up, but he hoped to see her again, maybe with some news. She’d discipline herself to be patient until Saturday. She’d even be patient with Maman. That was until she realised her mother would get hold of her as soon as she was home. Well, she’d go to the library, after all. Take her time. Then she wouldn’t have to tell any lie, and with a bit of luck, Maman would have forgotten all about cutting her hair.

Raine propped her bicycle in the shed and walked nonchalantly through the door into the sitting room, carrying her library books, annoyed with herself for needing proof of where she’d been. Maybe Maman wouldn’t let rip as she usually did while her sisters were there.

‘I thought I told you—’ her mother started, leaping up from the chair by the fire.

‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ Raine said, trying to muster a concerned smile. ‘So Ronnie said she’d bring you a coffee and I could change my books.’

‘You will not go against my wishes again,’ her mother said as she stood before her. ‘Is that clear?’ She gave Raine a critical glare. ‘I have waited in to cut your hair.’

‘Maman, I’ll be eighteen in June. No longer a child. So please let me decide whether I want my hair cut or if I’d like to change my library books, or other normal things an adult chooses to do.’

‘Not while you are under my roof and not until you are twenty-one,’ her mother retorted.

‘Then perhaps the best thing for all of us would be for me to pack up and leave.’

She heard Suzanne and Ronnie gasp.

‘You will do nothing of the kind.’ Her mother’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘But I will speak to your father when he is home about your insolence.’

‘What’s all this about not obeying your mother?’ Raine’s father asked her that evening when her sisters were in their rooms busy with their homework.

Her mother had gone to visit a woman she’d met in the village baker’s who spoke French.

Raine told him as briefly as possible about her weekly visits to the aerodrome, without mentioning she’d been up in a plane again.

‘One of the pilots, Doug White, said there might be a job going for me,’ she finished.

‘Doing what?’

‘Just general … something clerical, I expect.’ She didn’t want to use the word ‘dogsbody’ or her mother would have another fit.

Her father paused to light his inevitable cigarette. Raine knew it was to give him time to think.

‘I believe this is something we don’t need to discuss with your mother,’ he said finally, taking in a deep drag of the cigarette. ‘But I’ll come with you on Saturday to meet this chap.’

‘Oh, Dad, don’t come with me,’ Raine said, horrified. ‘He’ll think I’m a complete baby.’

‘No, he won’t. If he’s genuine, he’ll know that I’m a concerned father who wants to make sure his daughter will be safe and happy … and not taken advantage of.’

Her father and Doug got along as though they’d known each other for months instead of having just met. Doug took them to meet Flight Lieutenant Hartman, in one of the administration buildings, who asked Raine many questions about her school subjects and what she enjoyed. She tried to reply as intelligently as she could.

‘Hmm, you have impressive results for your School Certificate and your recent test,’ he said, folding the paper and handing it back to Raine. ‘But don’t you want to finish school? Take your Higher Certificate?’

She shook her head.

‘I wish she would,’ her father said, to Raine’s exasperation. ‘And so does her mother. But she’s bent on getting her pilot’s licence, so she needs to work to pay for the lessons.

Hartman looked straight at Raine. ‘Well, there’s nothing to stop you having flying lessons on the civilian side, but you know that as a female you’ll never fly with the RAF as a pilot, even if they form a women’s section.’

‘Yes, I know that,’ Raine said, fighting a bubble of irritation.

It was so unfair. But she refused to use the word ‘never’ in her vocabulary. Women used to think they’d never get the vote, but thank goodness a few women had been iron-willed in their fight to change the law. And after years of battling it had finally happened. So she could dream that things might change one day as far as women flying for the RAF was concerned.

‘I can offer you the job of a pay clerk,’ Hartman went on, ‘which might or might not make use of your mathematic skills.’ He looked at her. ‘However, the pay isn’t much – nineteen shillings a week.’ He leaned forward over his desk. ‘How does that sound?’

To Raine it sounded a fortune and she had to will herself not to look too thrilled.

‘It would be wonderful, sir,’ Raine started, ‘especially if you could make it a whole pound a week.’

That would pay for a weekly flying lesson, leaving fifteen shillings over – ten shillings a week to her mother and she’d still have a few shillings in her pocket.

Hartman gave her a startled look, then burst into laughter. ‘A girl who’s not afraid to speak up for herself,’ he said, glancing at her father. ‘Well, Mr Linfoot, have you any objections to this single-minded daughter of yours?’

Her father caught her eye and smiled. ‘I think she’s already made up her mind, and far be it from me to stand in her way.’

‘Then the matter is settled.’ He scribbled a note and glanced at the wall calendar.

‘There is just one more thing, sir,’ Raine said, desperately hoping he wouldn’t consider she was trouble with so many requests. But this was the most important of all. ‘What time would I finish each day?’

‘Normally, half past five.’ He looked at her. ‘Is there a particular reason why you ask?’

‘Yes. I intend to take weekly lessons at Hart’s Flying Club,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to cycle there but it’ll be dark by then.’

‘You’ll have Saturdays off and I’m sure they offer lessons at weekends, as well.’

‘It’s just that my mother isn’t keen for me to fly and she’d want to know where I was going every Saturday. I don’t want to worry her unnecessarily, so long as Dad knows where I am.’ Raine held her breath.

She noticed Hartman catch her father’s eye. Her father nodded.

‘We’ll soon be changing the clocks,’ Hartman said, ‘so if we say you may leave once a week at half past two, would that suit? Without altering your pound a week,’ he added with a twinkle.

Raine breathed out. ‘Oh, thank you very much, sir. It’s just that flying is what I want to do more than anything in the world …’ She hesitated.

‘Another question for me?’

‘Only when can I start?’

‘Soon as you like.’

She turned to her father with shining eyes. He sent her a wink.

‘Would tomorrow be all right, sir?’ Raine asked.

‘Good to see someone who’s keen.’ Flight Lieutenant Hartman stood and shook hands with her father, then smiled again at Raine. ‘We’ll see you here at eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning then, young lady.’

Chapter Four

April 1939

Raine loved this new world she’d entered, loved hearing the thrum of planes taking off and landing as she rushed over the aerodrome taking messages, or set to tackling the bursting filing cabinet in between learning to be a pay clerk. She’d hoped to see a bit more of Doug, but he’d left a note to say he was taking some leave and would see her when he got back. Oh, and he hoped she was enjoying her new job.

The new job, if she was honest, didn’t need much of a brain to do it, although there was plenty to keep her occupied. Sometimes she felt more like a tea lady after she’d made the dozens of cups of tea demanded by the people in both her section and two other sections every day. She wasn’t ungrateful, not one bit, but she couldn’t help wishing her work took her closer to the aircraft.

Thankfully, her father merely told Maman that Raine had found a job in a busy office in Biggin Hill with no mention of an aerodrome. Raine knew that name would mean nothing to Maman. She also knew her mother wouldn’t bother to ask where the office was or any details about her work. This time, her mother’s seeming indifference would work nicely in her favour. Raine couldn’t help a wry smile.

The pilots all treated her in a friendly manner and would stop to have a word with her, or give her a flirtatious wink and a smile as they occasionally strolled by her desk, but her boss, Mrs Chilvers, never mentioned anything about her leaving early one day a week. Raine hadn’t even had a chance on a Saturday to go to Hart’s Flying Club to set up a schedule. Should she wait until Mrs Chilvers said something? All of a sudden she caught herself. What was she – a determined young woman who’d set herself a goal, or a meek little mouse waiting for someone else to speak on her behalf? She set her chin. She would be the one to take action. And it was no good going to Mrs Chilvers who might not even know about the arrangement.

Her chance came the following day. And it was with Flight Lieutenant Hartman himself. He stopped at her desk to ask for a file.

‘Thank you, er, Miss—’ he said.

‘Lorraine Linfoot,’ she replied with a smile.

‘Ah, yes, Lorraine.’ He looked at her. ‘And how are you finding us?’

‘I’m enjoying being here and there’s plenty to learn.’

‘Mmm. Well, I’m sure there’s always someone to help with any questions.’ He started to walk away.

She couldn’t let him go.

‘Sir, there is one thing …’

He turned.

Her heart racing, she steeled herself. ‘You mentioned I could have time off once a week for flying lessons, but—’

‘Ah, yes, indeed. But Mrs Chilvers tells me you have a lot to learn and it’s impossible at the moment to let you off early with two clerks away.’

So he had mentioned it to the woman.

‘Sir, if I remember correctly, you said it was part of my—’

Just then one of the senior clerks came rushing in.

‘The new Hurricanes are arriving, sir. You said you wanted to be informed.’

‘Good show,’ Hartman said and hurried off.

Raine hesitated for a few seconds then shot to her feet. She’d dash out and have a look at the Hurricanes. But she’d make sure she kept out of Hartman’s view. She flew out of the door and looked up to see six aeroplanes flying closely together, one after the other, coming in to land. She gasped. What a magnificent sight!

The six beaming pilots stepped out of the shining new aeroplanes. One in particular caught her eye. Tall with fair hair, and although some way away, his smile as he glanced in her direction looked as though it was on full beam.

A strand of her hair whipped across her face in the wind as she gulped and sent him a shy smile in return. Several pilots whom she now recognised gathered around the six men, excitedly firing questions, and one of them climbed on the wing to have a look in the cockpit. Raine wished with all her heart she could do the same. What would they say if she ran over the grass and asked if she, too, could have a look? Actually, thinking about it, they couldn’t kill her for it.

In the next instant she was running towards Hartman who had his back to her, talking to the clerk who’d announced the Hurricanes’ arrival.

She would tap him on the arm and ask his permission to have a closer look at the planes. But the pilot with the beaming smile broke away and strolled towards her, looking every inch a film star with his sun-streaked hair ruffling and his broad shoulders encased in a smart RAF tunic. She couldn’t look away.

The moment was broken by one of the Hurricane pilots calling him.

‘Marshall, over here. The chaps want to know if you’re going to the mess and—’ The rest of his words were caught by the wind.

So his name was Marshall. She supposed it was his surname. They all seemed to use each other’s surnames or nicknames. Her heart picked up its beat again as he mouthed ‘Sorry’ and turned to the others. She stared after his retreating back, aching to belong – the way they did. All pals together. She sighed. It was just a dream.

With hunched shoulders she trudged back to the building, to her desk, to tackle the never-ending pile of dull paperwork.

Another week passed with Mrs Chilvers dumping as much as she could on Raine’s desk. If she was honest, Raine was a little scared of the woman.

‘I need this chart completed by noon,’ Mrs Chilvers said, ‘so please give it precedence.’

Now, Raine.

‘Mrs Chilvers, may I speak to you about something?’ Raine got to her feet. She was pleased to note she was several inches taller than the woman.

‘What is it, Miss Linfoot? I’m very busy.’

‘It’s about leaving early one day a week.’

‘What’s that?’ Mrs Chilvers barked. ‘What are you talking about? You’re here full time.’

Raine took a breath. ‘Yes, that’s right, but Flight Lieutenant Hartman said I could leave at half past two one day a week – a day to suit you, of course,’ she added hastily.

‘Yes, he mentioned something about it, but I told him it’s not possible.’

‘You see, he promised. It was part of my wages.’

Mrs Chilvers thrust her matronly chest out. ‘And what is the reason, may I ask?’

‘I want to take flying lessons.’

There was a deathly pause. Raine’s heart beat fast.

‘Do you realise we will probably be at war any day?’ Mrs Chilvers began, her voice trembling with annoyance. ‘We shall need all hands on deck to keep this section going smoothly, and all the other administration sections, for that matter, so the men who work here at the moment can be released for duty.’ She stared up at Raine with expressionless eyes. ‘It would be a complete waste of time. And anyway, we’re far too busy to start letting you off early. You’re still learning the job. What would be more use to us is if you could type.’ Mrs Chilvers’s mouth tightened. ‘But you can’t, so be grateful we’ve given you a job when you’re not even trained for anything.’ She smiled without it reaching her eyes. ‘Now run along. I need that chart by noon.’

Raine stood. ‘I am grateful, Mrs Chilvers, and you’ll have the chart by noon.’

Cursing under her breath as Mrs Chilvers disappeared, Raine looked at the chart for the staff’s work schedule for the month. It certainly wouldn’t take her two hours to finish. She sat quietly and began to fill in the columns. As she worked, her lips curved into a smile. She knew what she was going to do. It might be the answer to getting a transfer. Something closer to aeroplanes than the pay section. But she would be careful not to let Mrs Chilvers know what she was planning.

Progress was slow. She daren’t ask anyone to show her how to actually get the piece of paper in and roll it to its position as her secret would be out. But her mechanical mind soon picked up the basics. To her delight she’d found an instruction book with a clear diagram of a keyboard showing where to place her fingers. It sternly told her not to look down at the letters and even to stick little pieces of paper over the keys if she was tempted. Raine merely kept her eyes fixed on the sheet of paper in front of her. In a week she could type without looking at the keys. It was time to appeal to Flight Lieutenant Hartman. And she would make it official by typing the letter and putting URGENT on the envelope to make sure it got to him personally.

Her chance came when Mrs Chilvers telephoned in sick the following day. She began her letter, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated.

Dear Flight Lieutenant Hartman,

I know you are very busy, but I hope you will understand if I remind you again that you promised during my interview you would allow me to leave early one day a week so I would have time to cycle to Hart’s for a flying lesson. I have kept up with all the work Mrs Chilvers has given me, but I have been here for nearly a month and am very keen indeed to start.

I am very serious in my intentions to become a qualified pilot.

Thank you in advance.

Yours truly,

Lorraine Linfoot

Raine read the letter twice, then stuck it in an envelope. She put Hartman’s name on the outside and wrote PERSONAL and URGENT.

She’d walk over to his building this very minute and leave it on his desk.

The following day Hartman found her as she was in the office kitchen boiling a kettle.

‘Thank you for your letter, Lorraine,’ he said.

She couldn’t tell by his expression if he was annoyed or not. Then to her delight she saw the beginnings of a smile tilt his lips.

‘I hope it was in order to write,’ was the first thing that came to her.

‘I’m glad you reminded me. I’m sorry we haven’t kept to the arrangement. Lot going on at the moment.’

‘I understand, sir, but I’m up to date with my work and Mrs Chilvers isn’t in today, so I was wondering if I could leave early because I still haven’t been to the flying club yet.’

Hartman looked at her. ‘You’re really keen, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Then by all means pack up now and go and see them.’

Raine beamed. ‘Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you very much. You never know. If there’s a war my skills might come in handy.’

‘As I told you before, not with the RAF,’ he said. ‘But it’s still an excellent qualification to have, all the same.’

He swung away, leaving Raine in a pool of happiness.

It took Raine just short of half an hour to reach Hart’s Flying Club. She set her bike in a rack near the entrance, enjoying being close enough to watch a few planes take off and land for a few moments before she turned into the entrance.

She swiftly told the very nice elderly man at the desk that she would like to sign up for flying lessons once a week under the Civil Air Guard scheme. He nodded and took her name and address.

‘Are you on the telephone at home?’ he asked, his pencil poised.

She hesitated a fraction of a second. No, better not. Her mother might answer.

‘Afraid not,’ she said.

Flicking through a large desk diary, he tapped his finger triumphantly on one of the pages.

‘I have ten o’clock this Thursday, but only because of a cancellation.’

‘I can’t,’ Raine said. ‘I work at Biggin Hill but I can be here any afternoon from three o’clock onwards.’

He shook his head. ‘Got nothing in the afternoons. I’ll have to put you on the waiting list.’

She wasn’t going to leave the club without an appointment booked.

‘Oh, please. There must be something.’

He sucked air through his teeth and turned another page in the diary.

‘Ah, this might help, but it’s only half an hour on Fridays – three thirty. Would that do to begin with?’

‘Yes, it would do very well,’ Raine said, breathing out. ‘Tomorrow’s Friday. May I start then?’

‘I’ve already put you down for it.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘You’ll take a Tiger. And because it’s only half an hour it will only cost you half a crown.’

‘Put these on.’ Doug handed her a flying helmet, a fleece-lined jacket and a pair of goggles the following afternoon.

Immediately, Raine felt as though she’d taken a whole step nearer to her dream as she fastened the strap under her chin.

‘First of all, study your checklist and mentally tick off the items one by one.’ He walked her round the Tiger Moth, pointing out things she must look out for, such as the tyres and oil or fuel leaks. ‘And make sure the control surfaces are free and undamaged,’ he added.

Raine noticed two men in overalls looking on, ready to turn the propeller and pull away the chocks. They were smirking. Were they talking about her, a girl, having the audacity to think she could learn to fly? She decided to ignore them.

‘Doesn’t the mechanic do the checks?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but it’s always the final responsibility of the pilot,’ Doug said. ‘Now, use the cockpit checklist,’ he instructed, tapping her on the shoulder and handing over a sheet of paper once they were strapped in. ‘Make sure you’ve completed every one of them before take-off. This time I’ll show you everything as I’m checking and saying the names aloud, and you follow them on your list.’

Raine’s eyes dropped to the sheet of paper. She skimmed through it but it meant very little, so she quickly focused her attention on the instrument panel in front of her.

Doug leaned over her shoulder and pointed to the various controls. ‘This is the rev counter, the air speed indicator, altimeter to see how high you are. Here’s the oil pressure gauge, the control stick—’ He broke off. ‘Put your fingers round it to get the feel. It’s very sensitive so it only needs a light touch.’

She took the stick in both hands, the skin stretching over her knuckles in her nervousness.

‘No, not like that,’ he remonstrated. ‘You’re gripping it – just use one finger and thumb … yes, that’s better. Now, pull it gently towards you to rise up, then gently push away to descend, then move it to bank left … that’s it … then the opposite to go right.’

She vaguely heard the word ‘throttle’ and a few other names, but she knew she wasn’t taking any more in. Then she suddenly remembered something he hadn’t mentioned.

‘Where are the brakes?’

‘The Tiger doesn’t have them,’ Doug said nonchalantly. ‘You’ll come to a natural stop when you land correctly.’

‘That’s what I wanted to ask you about,’ Raine said. The ‘no brakes’ remark had made her chest tighten. ‘I’m a bit scared of landing.’

‘Don’t be,’ he came back. ‘You won’t be doing anything like taking off or landing on your first lesson – or your third. So don’t worry.’ He patted her back. ‘Okay … are you ready?’

‘Roger.’ Raine’s voice came out in a squeak of nerves, beads of perspiration gathering over her top lip.

This was it. No going back. She felt sick with fear and excitement as Doug’s voice came over the speaking tube attached to her helmet.

‘Okay. Switch on the ignition.’

She gave a satisfied smile as the engine flared. But her smile vanished when Doug shouted for her to open the throttle. She’d forgotten where it was. If he’d ever shown her, that was.

‘Okay, I’ve got it,’ Doug called. ‘Don’t do anything more …’ He paused. ‘Right. Off we go. Remember, always take off and land into the wind.’

When the plane was airborne Doug continued to shout various manoeuvres and instructions. Occasionally she understood, but often her mind went completely blank to the point where she didn’t even know her left from her right. More than once she was too heavy with the control stick.

‘You’re banking too hard,’ he shouted and she felt him adjust the plane. ‘Now, hold it steady and we’ll cruise for a couple of minutes.’

Her nerves frayed, she tried to straighten by jerking the control stick again. And again she felt him right it. She almost wept with frustration and fury with herself. She’d wanted to do so well, to show him what a good pupil she was.

‘Right, I’m going to bring her down,’ Doug called. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m doing at every stage.’

A few minutes later they had touched down and were taxiing along the grass landing strip.

She let out a long sigh. The flight had been a disaster. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. She’d never get the hang of it. He helped her from the cockpit without saying anything.

‘I’m so sorry, Doug.’

‘What for?’

‘I was awful. I couldn’t keep up with everything.’

‘Don’t fret,’ Doug said. ‘It wasn’t that bad for a first time and there’s a lot to learn.’ He gave her arm a light squeeze. ‘The main thing is, did you enjoy it?’

‘I loved it more than anything, but I didn’t think it was going to be that difficult.’

‘It isn’t. It just takes practice. And if you must know, I didn’t expect any more from you, but …’ he looked at her sternly, ‘I will expect more the next time and you’d better have improved. And the third time you’ll be flying without my help – except for the take-off and landing.’

Immediately, her heart lifted. She felt lighter. Not that bad for a first time. She turned to him. ‘Do you think I’ll really improve with practice?’

‘No, you’ll never make it.’

Her face crumpled.

‘Don’t be a goose,’ he said, giving her a playful chuck under her chin. ‘I was just teasing. You’re going to make an excellent pilot one day – I’ll make sure of it. But until then,’ he looked at her, ‘you need regular lessons. Hartman has suggested once a week, but I’ll try to accelerate them and get you in a couple a week.’

Raine felt her face flood with joy. ‘Will you really, Doug? Oh, that would be marvellous. How many lessons before I can go up on my own?’

‘Solo?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve had one lesson. One. With no take-off or landing practice. Don’t run before you can walk. We’ll take it a lesson at a time.’

‘Will you always be my instructor, Doug?’

‘That, I can’t guarantee. Friday is quite a good day for me so I’ll do my best. I’d love to know it was me who trained you.’

‘So would I.’

Raine laughed out loud as she cycled home, her hands off the handlebars, her pedals feeling as light as wings.

Chapter Five

May 1939

Raine felt as though she was leading a double life. It shouldn’t have to be like this, deceiving her mother. She was especially happy when it was her ‘flying day’. But even when it wasn’t and the work was monotonous, she was still blissfully content in her surroundings. It was only when she went home that she felt she didn’t really belong. She only had to walk up the path and a feeling of gloom would sweep over her. But today was different. Today, she could barely contain her excitement.

She knocked on the door, wishing for the dozenth time that her parents would give her a key. For goodness’ sake, I’ll be eighteen next month, she thought. But her mother wouldn’t budge. Maybe when she heard her news, Maman would finally regard her as an adult instead of a wayward child. Raine gave a rueful smile. She might not be twenty-one yet to legally acquire ‘the key of the door’, but surely her mother couldn’t refuse her now.

‘I’ve got something to tell you all,’ Raine said as she glanced round the table at her parents and sisters. She took another bite of her meat pie and looked up to see she had their attention. ‘I hope you’ll be pleased for me, though I haven’t mentioned anything about it before. I didn’t want to until it was definite.’

‘At last! You’ve met a nice young man.’ Her mother’s face was wreathed in smiles, her voice breathy with excitement. ‘When are you going to bring him home? We can’t wait to meet him, can we, Robert?’

‘Why don’t you give Raine a chance to answer?’ her husband said, sending his wife his usual tender look.

‘It’s nothing like that,’ Raine cut in before the conversation took a worse turn. She summoned a wide smile towards her parents and sisters. ‘I went solo today.’

There was a sudden hush. Raine stole a glance at her mother whose fork was frozen in mid-air.

‘What are you talking about?’ her mother said, narrowing her eyes as she put down her fork, the small piece of meat still attached to the prongs.

‘I went up in a Tiger Moth on my own today.’

‘A what?’ Her mother frowned.

‘It’s an aeroplane.’ Raine glanced at her mother whose face was working as though she was trying to control herself.

‘How dare you! You’ve been taking flying lessons without my knowledge.’ Maman’s voice was steel.

‘I dared because I knew you wouldn’t approve.’

‘You were perfectly correct.’ Her mother laid down her knife. ‘How can you afford lessons with the pittance you earn in that office of yours – as a clerk?’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Lorraine, who has her head in the clouds.’ She swung back to Raine. ‘Could you really not do something better with your School Certificate, Lorraine? I’m ashamed when people ask me what you are doing now you have left school. That you are a clerk in an office, wasting a fine education.’

‘The work is actually very interesting,’ Raine returned with as cool a smile as she could muster, her thrill at having gone solo still overriding any pettiness from her mother. ‘Especially as the office happens to be at Biggin Hill aerodrome.’

Her mother’s face paled. ‘I did not know that.’

‘Simone,’ her father interrupted, ‘let’s be happy for her. It’s what she’s always wanted to do. And she must be good if her instructor has let her go solo today.’

‘You seem to know much about this, Robert.’ Simone flashed him an accusing glare. ‘You knew all the time. Both of you ’ave betrayed me.’ She gave a sob. ‘My own ’usband and daughter.’

‘It’s hardly a betrayal, Maman,’ Raine said. ‘And you never once asked me what I was doing in my job – you weren’t interested, so I didn’t have to tell you any lies. And I can tell you it’s the best feeling in the world to have – what you call – my head in the clouds.’

Ronnie giggled.

‘Véronique.’ Simone swung round to Ronnie. ‘I am not amused.’

‘Doesn’t Lorraine remind you of someone, darling?’ her father said. ‘If you make up your mind to do something, you always do it. So you can’t be surprised that your eldest daughter has taken after you in that way.’

If it hadn’t been so serious, Raine would have laughed.

Her mother rounded on her father. ‘I am surprised that you encourage her, Robert,’ she said, her mouth thinning in anger. ‘And even more that you did not tell me what my own daughter was up to.’

‘You would only have worried, darling,’ he said soothingly.

It’s not the whole reason, Raine longed to say to her father, but she knew it was useless. Her father would always adore his wife and continue to make excuses for her. Raine sighed.

He turned to her. ‘Well done, Raine. I know you always wanted to be a pilot so I’m happy … we’re all happy for you,’ he added firmly. ‘And to prove it, I’m going to open a bottle of champagne so we can make a toast. It’s the last one but I think the occasion deserves it.’

‘I’m not qualified yet, or anything.’

‘No matter. I won’t be a minute.’

Her father had always kept a few bottles of champagne on one of the slate shelves in the cool of the pantry at the old house – just in case. ‘I like to be ready for any surprise celebration,’ he’d say with a twinkle. Raine’s heart warmed. It was typical of him to bring out his last bottle for her.

‘It’s wonderful news, Raine.’ Suzanne rose from the table and gave her a hug.

‘You are clever,’ Ronnie said, eyes wide with delight. ‘Isn’t she, Maman?’

Raine looked her mother straight in the eye. Maman was leaning back in her chair as though she could no longer support herself. But in her eyes was an expression that made Raine recoil. She could only decipher it as a spark of envy.

‘Here we are.’ Her father came back into the room with the champagne. ‘We’ll have the best glasses, darling,’ he said to her mother.

‘I’ll get them.’ Suzanne jumped up – probably so she didn’t get drawn into the argument, Raine guessed. She watched as her mother took in a deep breath, her chest rising.

Here we go.

‘Lorraine, I have been thinking. Écoute. You remember Mrs Garland who is the proprietor of the beautiful dress shop in the arcade in Bromley? She said she would like to talk to you about working there. I told her you will soon be in your father’s firm, but she said, “Lorraine’s so tall and slim and so very attractive – just the right figure to be a model. She could earn more money than doing sums all day.”’ Her mother gave a tinkly laugh. ‘She said she would be ’appy to train you.’ She looked at Lorraine as though seeing her for the first time and nodded approvingly. ‘She is right, Lorraine, and I want you to think very serious … seriously about it. And do not concern yourself with your father’s wishes. I will persuade him.’ Then immediately her expression hardened. ‘Until then, I will hear no more about flying. You will not continue the lessons.’

‘I don’t think you quite understand, Maman. I’m not interested in selling dresses to dippy girls and vain women. I flew solo today. When I have enough flying hours I can take my test. Become a qualified pilot.’ She rounded on her mother. ‘Maman, can’t you understand that flying means the world to me. It’s the only thing I want to do with my life.’

Her mother’s eyes bored into her. ‘We will see about that.’

Raine realised it was not a bit of good getting on the wrong side of their mother. She held her mother’s glare as many seconds as she could bear, then lowered her eyelids. Best to let her mother think she still had the upper hand.

Suzanne returned with the best champagne glasses, saved from the old house, and set them carefully on the table. Their father popped the cork and filled each glass, handing the first to Raine and the second to his wife. Simone shook her head.

‘I have the ’eadache,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘You must all celebrate – if that’s what you want to call it – without me.’ Her gaze swept over the table, then settled on Raine. ‘If we go to war with Germany again, your lessons are pointless. As a girl’ – she emphasised the word – ‘you will not be allowed to fly planes in the militaire. Thank goodness there is some sense still in this world.’

Raine looked at her mother’s rigid back as she left the table, then her eyes wandered to her father. He was staring after his wife, but to Raine’s surprise he didn’t follow her as he usually did. She was grateful for that small gesture of solidarity. Having her father’s approval was more than enough.

Chapter Six

July 1939

Raine opened her eyes. They stung, as she’d barely slept a wink while fretting about the morning. And now tomorrow had come and she’d never felt less like taking a plane up. Sighing, she pushed the covers aside and got to her feet. It was still early so with luck she’d have the bathroom to herself for a few minutes.

No sound. No one was up. She shot into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, grimacing at the bloodshot eyes, then ran a shallow bath. Swiftly, she put on her rayon briefs and brassière, then tied the cord of her dressing gown firmly around her slim waist and went downstairs.

‘What is the matter, Lorraine?’ her mother asked at the breakfast table. ‘You look as though you have cried all night.’

‘Suzanne kept me awake with her heavy breathing.’

Her mother’s face softened. ‘Poor child. I think she has the sinus problem. You must be patient with her.’

Raine had the grace to feel guilty at such a fib. Suzanne had been as quiet as a mouse. Raine badly wanted to tell her mother she would be taking her pilot’s test this morning, but instead clamped her lips together. It never worked to be excited about anything if her mother wasn’t involved or hadn’t got some kind of control. And if she hoped for her mother to wish her good luck, she knew that was a wasted hope.

After breakfast Raine stepped into her overalls. She’d seen a lovely bright yellow flight suit on one of the other women at Hart’s who was also having lessons and she’d immediately longed for one just like it. But try as she had, she’d never been able to save enough money. Giving her mother ten shillings a week had put a stop to any luxury.

She had to pass. She just had to. Flinging a raincoat over the overalls in case she came face to face with her mother, she slipped out of the door and cycled to Hart’s.

‘You took a gamble last time I watched you,’ Doug reprimanded as they were walking over the airfield towards the planes. ‘You deliberately went into that loop the loop. You were jolly lucky not to have come a cropper. The engine has a reputation of stalling with that manoeuvre. More than one pilot has lost his life by doing that. And you’re even more lucky that I know you, and how good you are, and didn’t send you to the Chief.’ His eyes held a warning. ‘You’re not experienced enough yet to start doing fancy aerobatics, Raine, and the last thing we want is a fatal accident on our hands.

‘These planes are bloody expensive to repair or replace.’ He smiled wryly at her expression. ‘The RAF worries almost as much about the loss of an aircraft as it does the loss of a pilot. So no more showing off in the air. I mean it. Put your own safety first. Stick to observing weather conditions and be sensible as to whether or not you even attempt a flight until bad weather clears, and thoroughly go through the checks. If you do that, you’ll automatically keep both you and the aircraft safe.’

Doug was speaking to her now as though she was a wayward rebellious child. Maybe she was. She stuck out her chin. She’d often dreamed of doing the loop, but that day she’d dared, knowing it was against the rules but also sure that Doug wouldn’t report her. She wouldn’t have missed that feeling of pure liberation for all the world when she’d somersaulted.

‘I promise I won’t try it again,’ she said, trying hard to sound contrite.

Doug threw her a suspicious glance and sighed. ‘It’ll only be a matter of weeks – maybe only days if dear Mr Hitler has his way – and we’re in another world war, but at least you won’t be called upon as a pilot. That should be a comfort to your mother … and to me,’ he added unexpectedly.

‘But it seems such a waste if I can’t use my flying skills just because I’m a woman.’ Raine’s voice rose in indignation. ‘And if the war starts I won’t have a chance to keep up my hours.’

He studied her as though for the first time. ‘You know what, Raine? Even for someone as obstinate as you, there’s no future in flying until things settle down. But there is some news you might not have heard about. The RAF has just formed a section called the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. There’ll be plenty of jobs to involve you in the various aircraft. I think you’d find something to interest you.’

‘But they won’t allow women pilots,’ Raine said flatly.

‘That’s true.’

‘Then I’m not interested.’

‘I thought that’s what you’d say,’ Doug said. ‘Well, forget it for the moment. I’ll hand you over to the chief flying instructor for your test. In fact, there he is … walking towards us right now.’ He bent his head and kissed her cheek. ‘Good luck, Raine. You have the makings of an excellent pilot. You’ll pass – I’m sure of it.’

Anxious that she had the eyes of the instructor tracing her every movement, Raine carefully carried out all the solo test manoeuvres to the book. Although her landing wasn’t quite as perfect as she would have liked, she didn’t think she’d performed too badly on the whole.

The instructor nodded to her without a hint of whether or not she had made a satisfactory test flight. Instead, he asked her to follow him to his office where he fired questions at her for half an hour, noting down her answers.

‘I think that will be all, Miss Linfoot,’ he said, rising from his desk as her indication to leave.

‘Thank you very much, sir,’ Raine said, willing him to give her an idea as to how she’d performed.

‘You’ll be hearing from the CAG in a fortnight or so.’ He nodded his dismissal.

After what Raine considered was enough time for her licence to arrive – that is, if it was ever going to – she watched for the postman every day before anyone came downstairs.

On day eight she collected the post from the mat. There was one for her mother and one for her – from the Civil Air Guard. With shaking hands she opened it to find a short letter wrapped around her pilot’s licence. This was it. No word of congratulation. But she didn’t need any. She’d passed! Class C – whatever that meant. But whatever it meant, now she was truly a pilot.

Her heart pounded as she remembered Doug’s words about being a comfort to her mother. She didn’t want to be a comfort to anyone. She wanted to play her part if there really was going to be a war. And going by the headlines in her father’s newspaper, the government was preparing for it to happen any day.

There must be some use for her as a pilot, even if she wasn’t allowed to fight Jerry. But she wouldn’t tell anyone in the family just yet that she had her licence. She’d keep that delicious secret to herself until the time was right. And then she’d show them.

A month later, Friday, 1st September, Germany invaded Poland. Although everyone expected it, it was still a shock to hear such terrifying news. Raine’s second shock was the unexpected announcement at Hart’s that all civil flying had now stopped for the duration of the war. She wouldn’t be able to add to her solo hours. She might even lose her skills. If that wasn’t bad enough, the RAF took over the running of Biggin Hill. She prayed they would let her keep her job at the airfield as a civilian, and decided her best bet was to turn up every day and keep her head down.

Sunday, 3rd September 1939

Every morning and evening her father turned on the wireless to hear the news. Raine had begun to make it a habit to join him in the front room of the cottage. This morning she looked up from the crossword puzzle she was doing in yesterday’s Daily Telegraph, her glance falling on Suzanne who sat nearby on a straight-backed chair clicking her knitting needles. She was making a scarf for Ronnie who refused to listen to the news and was out on her bicycle, even though they’d had thunderstorms in the night. Maman was in the kitchen so it was only Dad, Raine thought, who looked properly attentive. She bent her head over the crossword again, but with her ear cocked for the latest news.

‘At eleven o’clock this morning, on the BBC, the Prime Minister has a serious announcement to make,’ came the clipped tones of the newsreader, startling Raine from her concentration.

‘That’s it, then.’ Her father threw his daughters a look of absolute despair.

‘What is?’ Suzanne stopped knitting, the stripy scarf falling in a heap on her lap.

‘Announcement that we’re at war, do you think, Dad?’ Raine said, biting her lip. She couldn’t believe they were even speculating such a horrifying event, but after Friday’s shocking announcement on the wireless that the Nazis had invaded Poland, it was surely inevitable.

‘I’m certain of it now.’ Her father flung down the morning’s newspaper in disgust. ‘This will all be stale by the time we hear what Chamberlain’s got to say.’ He stood, his expression heavy. ‘I hoped right up until we heard about Poland that it could be staved off, but that’s it, now.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘I’d better tell your mother to make sure she’s here in two hours’ time.’

He left the room, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘Do you really think that’s what the Prime Minister’s going to announce?’ Suzanne said, her face pale.

‘I don’t see what else it can be, now Germany’s invaded Poland,’ Raine said. ‘We promised Poland if that ever happened, Great Britain and France would stick together against Germany. It’s too serious a promise to break.’

At five minutes to eleven Raine’s father switched on the wireless again to warm it up. As soon as the pips came, no one spoke. In the gravest tone, the Prime Minister began to speak.

‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.

‘I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

‘You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed.

‘The Government have made plans under which it will be possible to carry on the work of the nation …’

Raine’s mind was working furiously. She didn’t hear much of the rest of Mr Chamberlain’s speech until she heard him say:

‘… in the days of stress and strain that may be ahead. But these plans need your help. You may be taking your part in the fighting services or as a volunteer in one of the branches of Civil Defence. If so, you will report for duty in accordance with the instructions you receive. You may be engaged in work essential to the prosecution of war for the maintenance of the life of the people – in factories, in transport, in public utility concerns or in the supply of other necessaries of life. If so, it is of vital importance that you should carry on with your jobs.

‘Now may God bless you all and may He defend the right, for it is evil things that we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution – and against them I am certain that the right will prevail.’

There was a crackling noise, then the words ‘air-raid siren.’ Her father switched the wireless off.

Maman was the first to break the silence with a stifled sob. ‘Where is my baby? Where is Véronique?’

‘She’ll come back any minute when she hears the siren,’ Robert said. ‘You know she doesn’t like being hemmed in.’

‘Does she dislike us so much?’ Simone raised her eyes to her husband.

‘Of course not, darling. She just loves being outside and you can’t protect her forever.’

‘I need to know she is back,’ Simone said, her eyes beseeching him. ‘You will have to go and find her.’

‘I’ll go,’ Raine said, leaping up.

‘Stay here.’ Simone’s tone was harsh. ‘You will not leave the house.’

Taking no notice of her mother, Raine made towards the door. At the same moment Ronnie breezed in, soaked from head to foot, her face glowing from her cycle ride.

‘What’s the matter? Why are you all looking so serious?’ She looked from one member of the family to another.

‘Only that Mr Chamberlain has declared war on Germany,’ her mother said in a tight voice. ‘And we were worried about you, Véronique, naturellement.’

‘I’m all right.’ Ronnie shrugged off her light jacket and threw it on the back of a chair. ‘Well, at least there’ll be some excitement going on around here for a change.’

‘How can you talk like that?’ Simone snapped. She turned to her husband. ‘Can’t they understand anything, Robert?’ she said, her voice imploring him. ‘All those lives lost only twenty years ago. How many more will be erased before they all come to their senses?’

‘We’re not talking about anyone with common sense as far as the Nazis are concerned,’ Robert answered. He got up to offer his wife a handkerchief which she practically snatched and held to her eyes.

‘I can’t bear this to ’appen again.’ Simone’s voice was muffled.

‘Don’t take on, darling. You must keep strong for all our sakes.’

Taking her handkerchief from her face, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I’m only thankful I’ve got girls. All the poor mothers who have sons. It will be terrible for them.’

‘We all have to play a part,’ Raine said, gazing across at her mother. ‘Just like Mr Chamberlain said. All of us means exactly that – girls and women as well as boys and men. And I intend to do my bit.’

‘And just what do you intend to do, Lorraine?’ her mother challenged.

This was the opportunity Raine had been waiting for. It was such a shock to hear they really were at war, that telling her mother she was now a qualified pilot would get everything over with in one go. But her answer to her mother’s question was swallowed up in a wailing sound, which sent shivers across her shoulders. An air-raid siren.

Simone screamed and rushed to the window. ‘They’re bombing us already!’ She began to sob. ‘Oh, why did we have to leave our lovely house with the basement to keep us safe?’

Raine saw her father flinch at Maman’s accusatory tone.

‘It will only be a practice,’ he said, ‘though I’m afraid we’ll have to get used to the sound. But it won’t happen for a while, I’m sure, until the Germans decide how to respond now we’ve told them it’s war. And the village shelters aren’t far.’

Simone rounded on her husband. ‘How do you know what that creature is thinking?’ she demanded. ‘And what is the use of a shelter in the village if we are trapped here and killed?’

‘Calm down, my love. I imagine it was quite a surprise to the Germans. Hitler was always so sure that Britain would be persuaded to become one of his allies. How little does he know the British mind.’

Peace in our time. Would anyone ever forget the Prime Minister’s triumphant words? Raine thought grimly. Neville Chamberlain and Herr Hitler had signed an agreement to say the two countries would never go to war with one another again, when now, almost exactly a year later, Chamberlain had told the nation that war had been declared on Germany. It was too terrible to imagine. And yet she understood how Ronnie was feeling. At least we know for sure, she told herself, aware of a frisson of excitement. Surely now she’d be able to put her pilot’s licence to good use.

Raine quietly left the room. She needed to get some air and think what to do next.

Mr Gray, the village air-raid warden, came to the house a few days later to announce that gas masks were being sent to the village hall, and families should come to be fitted and collect theirs the following week.

‘I will not wear anything so ugly,’ Simone declared when she saw the masks lined up on the trestle tables in the village hall next to a pile of cardboard boxes for each one to be carried in.

‘It might save your life, Maman,’ Raine said grimly, trying hers on.

Ugh. The rubber stank and there was a strong smell of disinfectant.

Simone wasn’t the only one muttering. Most of the men seemed to accept that they were a sensible precaution, but several of their wives decided they didn’t like the look of them at all.

‘Keep it on for a few minutes, dear,’ one of the ladies who was helping people with their size said to Raine. ‘It’ll get you used to it.’

Raine didn’t think she could last that long. It was difficult to breathe and the smell was making her feel queasy. After a long minute, she pulled it off and went to the door, drawing in deep gulps of air.

Simone refused even to try it on. She simply took the size the woman recommended her and put it in its cardboard box.

‘I will look at it when I am home,’ she said, but Raine knew she would do nothing of the kind.

‘How are you two getting on?’ Raine asked her sisters.

There were muffled replies and both of them removed theirs.

‘They’re hateful,’ Ronnie said. ‘It’d take a catastrophe for me to wear mine.’

‘That’s the idea,’ Raine said.

Suzanne promptly rushed to the cloakroom and came back white-faced.

‘That was horrible,’ she said. ‘I felt I was suffocating.’

‘Let’s just hope we never have to use them,’ Raine said.

When several weeks went by and still nothing happened, people began to call it a phoney war. They became more casual about keeping their gas masks with them at all times. But as far as Raine was concerned, there was one big difference. There were no more civilian pilots, no more flying clubs. Anyone who was a pilot was serving their country – and that, of course, didn’t include female pilots. She gritted her teeth. Maybe she should join the WAAFs, after all. At least she’d be amongst people she respected and admired. But still something held her back.

She’d finally heard from Doug. He sent her a private letter care of Biggin Hill aerodrome.

28th October 1939

Dear Raine,

I’m so sorry I left so abruptly. You must have wondered what had happened to me. I had a crisis at home and then when I’d got myself back together again there was a war on!

I heard you got your pilot’s licence so my heartiest congratulations. You see I do know a bit of what’s going on even though I’m quite a long way from you at the moment – can’t say where. You’ve probably left Biggin Hill by now and joined the WAAFs. That’s what I wanted to tell you – that I’ve joined up – RAF, of course.

Raine chewed her lip. So Doug was a fighter pilot doing his bit for his country. She prayed he hadn’t been called on to do anything too dangerous. He’d become like a brother to her over the months he’d taught her to fly and she’d been hurt, then worried, when she hadn’t heard anything from him for such a long time. She read on:

I think very fondly of you and I’m so proud of you. We’re bound to meet sooner or later, particularly if you’ve joined the WAAFs as at least you’ll be close to the action.

However I do have something interesting to tell you. A civilian organisation called the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA for short) has just been formed and its function is to ferry aircraft to airfields around the country for the RAF. They’re taking pilots who are too old this time around, or injured from the last war, so not fit for combat but they can still deliver a plane safely. And this is the real news – apparently they’re planning to form a women’s section of experienced pilots. I’ll let you know when I hear anything more.

Write to me if you get the opportunity. Address at top and it will be forwarded to me.

With much affection,

Doug x

Raine read the last part of the letter about the ATA again, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. Here was the reason she hadn’t joined the WAAFs. This ATA was going to admit women pilots! She’d try to find out more about it at work tomorrow. Because if she didn’t get some regular air miles in her log book soon, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She swallowed hard. All she had worked for, all she had dreamed, would be shattered. There had to be a way for this ATA organisation to take her. There simply had to.

Chapter Seven

October 1940

‘Miss Linfoot, please come to my office right away.’

Raine jumped as her desk extension rang. She’d been in her usual reverie, looking out of the window watching planes landing and taking off, longing to be up there with them. At first it had been exciting peering up at the dogfights going on right over her head at Biggin Hill, seeing the RAF boys shooting down the Luftwaffe in what Winston Churchill called the Battle of Britain. But when she’d witnessed her first sight of a Spitfire spiralling down in flames, the pilot having had no chance of baling out, or surviving a ball of fire on impact, she’d immediately thought of Doug. He’d be up there somewhere. If it wasn’t today, it would be tomorrow.

At least she and the family were far enough away not to have suffered like Londoners who had gone through night after night being bombed. Thankfully, Hitler now seemed to have turned his attention elsewhere. Heaven knew in what condition the Luftwaffe had left their beloved capital. And knowing what constant danger Londoners were living in, if anything, made her even more resolute to be part of the action.

Raine had been in the pay section for a year and had become more and more frustrated stuck in an office. Although she’d taken over the role of a fully-fledged pay clerk, she wished for the hundredth time that she’d been born a man. Then she would have been welcomed with open arms as a pilot. It was all so ridiculous. Women were every bit as good as the men. But even the ATA was cautious, it seemed. Doug told her they’d only taken eight very experienced female pilots a few months ago – all of them with several hundred flying hours or more. There was no point yet in applying with her few. He’d suggested she seriously think about joining the WAAFs, but she didn’t want to. She’d have to sign up with them. Commit herself to however many years the war was going to last in a non-flying position and perhaps lose the opportunity of flying with the ATA – what she’d set her heart on. No, she wouldn’t risk it.

But she’d go mad if something didn’t turn up soon. Even Maman had joined the Women’s Voluntary Service and was busy collecting aluminium utensils from friends and neighbours for the war effort. ‘We will turn your pots and pans into Spitfires and Hurricanes, Blenheims and Wellingtons,’ Lord Beaverbrook had recently announced on the wireless, and Maman had jumped up and told the family she would talk to the WVS immediately.

And she had. Raine couldn’t help smiling at the memory of her mother approaching every single family in Downe. Almost every housewife had gladly handed her something aluminium for the war effort, not wanting to be thought of as unpatriotic, especially when faced with a Frenchwoman who was asking so delightfully for her help.

Sighing heavily, Raine picked up the huge aluminium teapot and poured yet another twenty mugs of tea, letting the liquid slosh over the rims without pause. She’d asked for a transfer to one of the other administration departments and was sent to Maintenance Command section under Flight Lieutenant Fox. It had been a bad mistake on her part.

‘Miss Linfoot, are you there? Please answer.’

Foxy’s tone was never a polite request but an order. He was of medium height, stockily built, dark hair slicked back with plenty of Brylcreem. His cocky swagger when he came into the office and his condescending attitude made it obvious that women had no place in the department unless they were behind a typewriter. At least once a day she berated herself for ever having learnt how to type. As for Foxy, she detested working for him. His handwriting was appalling and he always took umbrage when she gave him a letter for signing, having guessed the words and the gist of it as she’d gone along.

‘I didn’t write it like this,’ he growled more than once.

She’d answer that it had read a little ambiguously, so she’d tried to make it clear.

‘Hmm,’ he would grunt, but to her surprise he never insisted she retype it.

That was by no means the worst thing. She’d only been at the job a week when he’d pounced as she was leaving his office. He’d barred her way as she had her hand on the door handle and grabbed her.

She’d twisted her neck away from his repulsive lips. ‘Please don’t.’

‘Come on. You’re no prude. You girls – prick-teasers, all of you, with your pouty red lips and your pussycat bows, forever tossing your hair—’

‘What nonsense!’ Raine’s voice was ice as she pushed her hand hard against his chest. ‘But I am here to do a job without any unpleasantness from anyone.’ She glared at him. ‘So don’t ever touch me again, sir,’ she emphasised with sarcasm, ‘or I’ll report you.’

‘You report me?’ He laughed in her face. ‘The general dogsbody. Who do you think they’d believe – you or me?’ His laugh became a sneer. ‘Make one move in that direction and I’ll have you removed … for good.’

She could only grit her teeth. She’d get nowhere if she threatened him. He was her superior and he could easily make her life a misery. She’d stepped back and made her exit as dignified as she could, knowing his eyes were on her. Since then, he’d always made a point of looking her up and down every time she had to speak to him, but he’d left her alone and she’d hoped that was the end of it.

Now, a fortnight later, he was asking to see her on her own again. With Foxy she realised she’d overstepped the mark in threatening him. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself from trying to frighten the rat. She should have known that threatening such a bully would never have worked. Blowing out her cheeks, Raine picked up her notepad, hoping, praying he only wanted to dictate a letter, although Foxy dictating was as bad as deciphering his writing. He’d march back and forth across the floor, mumbling and gabbling, then would say nothing for a whole minute – just turn and stare at her. She wrinkled her nose as she knocked on his office door.

‘Please, sit down.’

Something in his tone alerted her. He wasn’t about to dictate any letter. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, and studied her. His gaze lowered to her legs, then back up her body to her face. She loathed everything about him – those pinprick cold grey eyes piercing through her, as though sucking out all her problems, laying them bare and grinning at them, but she would not be intimidated. She tried to imagine him naked – she’d read somewhere that it helped when you were in such a situation – and almost giggled at the image dancing in front of her.

‘Have I egg on my chin or something?’

‘What?’ She managed to recover herself. ‘Oh, sorry, sir, I was—’

‘Never mind that,’ he said abruptly. ‘I have something to discuss with you. I understand you’re a qualified pilot.’

Her heart leapt.

‘Yes, sir, I have my licence.’ She couldn’t stop the note of pride that pervaded her answer.

He nodded and picked up a sheet of paper from the top of a pile, his eyes flicking from one side to the other, taking his time.

As though he hasn’t already read it.

‘This letter …’ he waved it in the air, ‘is from the ATA – that is, the Air Transport Auxiliary.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard about it,’ Raine said coolly, though inside her heart was beating fiercely, silently thanking God that Doug had explained who they were.

Foxy gazed at her as though he couldn’t believe she was not some empty-headed slip of a girl. ‘I’ll give you the thrust of it,’ he said, breaking off to wink at her. ‘It’s from a Miss Gower. Apparently, she’s in charge of a ferry pool …’ he rolled his eyes that a woman should be in charge of something so important, ‘and she urgently requires pilots. She’s even asking for women as well as men.’ He stared at Raine. ‘My God, she must be desperate.’

Don’t annoy him, Raine. Let him think he has the upper hand.

‘She needs highly experienced pilots, of course.’

Raine’s heart dropped. She hadn’t flown for nearly a year. But at least this Miss Gower was asking for more women. Those eight female pilots must be doing a good job. It gave her a sudden hope.

‘Does she say how many flying hours … sir?’

Please let me have enough.

He sent her a steely gaze. ‘How many hours do you have, Miss Linfoot?’

‘Twenty-five.’ It was actually nineteen, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

A smirk crossed his thick lips, but he said nothing.

Was her dream about to come true – or be smashed to pieces? He was deliberately keeping her in suspense.

‘How many hours does Miss Gower require?’ Raine asked, her heart beating hard.

Foxy glanced down at the letter again. ‘I’m afraid Miss Gower requires pilots with two hundred and fifty … minimum.’ He sent her a triumphant look. ‘So you only have ten per cent of her requirements.’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘I’m afraid we will have to put that idea aside.’ His mouth twisted.

‘But with the war, surely—’

‘I’m afraid there’s no more to be said.’

She could see her chance slipping away before her.

‘Please, sir, if I could—’

He held his hand palm upwards towards her. ‘I’m sorry, but you simply don’t have enough experience. And by the time you increase your hours the war will be over. Without any help from women.’ Before she had time to react, he said, ‘But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.’

The tone had become ominous. Raine deliberately kept her eyes on him, trying to ignore her thudding heart.

‘I’m afraid …’ he paused as though for effect (dear God, if he said he was afraid one more time she would cheerfully throttle him), ‘we no longer require your services at Biggin Hill.’

Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t been prepared for this. His eyes were narrowed in malice. What a nasty little man, enjoying the power he had over her. She could have kicked herself for threatening him. This was his moment of triumph. Her punishment for daring to stand up for herself. Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

‘Doesn’t my time here count for anything?’ she said in as reasonable a tone as she could muster. ‘I’m showing the ropes to a new girl who’s supposed to be helping me now we’re busier, but she has a lot to learn before she can be left on her own. And she can’t possibly do my job and hers.’

‘Miss Rogers is perfectly capable of being left,’ he said in a firm voice. ‘And there is always someone around if she needs advice, or indeed any help. Me, for instance.’ He gave her what passed for a smile. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Linfoot, but I’m giving you notice. You have until the end of the week to hand over all your work to Miss Rogers and explain everything she needs to know. But for now, please give me your key to the filing cabinet. We wouldn’t want any nosy parkers let loose in my office, would we?’

He held out a pasty hand.

Raine could barely hide her fury as she returned to her office. Only Linda Rogers was there, frowning over a stack of files on her desk. She looked up as Raine stormed in.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’

‘Only everything,’ Raine said, biting her lip hard to stop herself from bursting into tears of frustration and anger. She caught Linda’s stare. ‘Foxy’s just given me notice to be out by the end of the week.’

Linda’s eyes widened. ‘Why? What are you supposed to have done?’

‘It seems I’m no longer required. That you’re perfectly capable of doing my job … as well as yours.’

As she was speaking she put the cover over her typewriter and retrieved her handbag that was tucked underneath the desk. She swung it on her shoulder and turned to Linda.

‘Right, then, I’m off. Best of British and all that.’

‘But you said the end of the week.’ Linda came round from her desk. ‘I can’t do the job without your help. And anyway, I don’t want to be stuck in this office on my own with hardly anyone around. When anyone does come in, they just dump stuff on the desk, give me a wink and a smile as though that’s all that’s needed to set me up for the day, then rush off.’

Raine felt sorry for Linda. She’d be leaving the girl on her own to face Foxy every day. But she couldn’t stay in this place a moment longer. Hartman had been abrupt enough, but he wasn’t unfair. And he didn’t make obnoxious passes, either. That was something she wouldn’t stand for.

There was no reason to stay to the end of the week, especially as Doug was no longer here. If only she knew where he’d been sent, but she’d drawn a blank with everyone she’d asked. Foxy would have known, she thought bitterly, but she wouldn’t dream of asking anything of that creep.

‘Sorry, Linda, I don’t want to hang around any longer. I need to decide what to do now. But I’ve enjoyed working with you and wish you all the luck. I mean it.’ She turned towards the door.

‘Raine, wait a minute …’

There was an urgency in Linda’s tone that made her stop.

‘Can we go to the NAAFI and have a cuppa?’ Linda said. ‘I need to talk to you about something, and I also want to know the reason why Foxy has sacked you.’

Raine hesitated, the image of Foxy’s eyes roving over her legs. Maybe she should warn Linda that he had a lecherous streak so the girl was prepared. Linda might only be seventeen but she was as well developed as any woman.

‘All right,’ Raine said. ‘I could do with one – and maybe treat us to a bun,’ she added with a thin smile.

They walked companionably but silently to the canteen and took their trays to a table in the corner.

‘I detest that Foxy,’ Linda blurted as soon as they sat down. Her eyes shone with indignation. ‘Whenever you’re out of the room he comes in and hangs over me when he asks me to type a letter. His hair oil stinks. It makes me feel sick. And yesterday when you went to the Ladies’ he came up behind me and put his hands on my breasts and told me to keep quiet or he’d get rid of me. He’s tried to touch me before but always pretended it was accidental. This time, there was no mistake – it was deliberate. With you not around he’ll be even worse.’ She looked at Raine, her eyes beseeching. ‘I need my job, Raine, and he knows it.’

So this was what Foxy giving her notice was all about. He wanted full access to Linda without Raine curtailing him. What a pig! This was far more serious than she’d imagined.

‘He tried it on with me when he first came to the section,’ Raine said.

Linda’s eyes were wide. ‘What did you do?’

‘Threatened to report him. And didn’t I pay for it … with my job.’ She looked at Linda. ‘What did you say to him?’

Linda swallowed some tea. ‘I asked him to please stop, but he gave them a quick pinch, which really hurt ’cos I had the curse, and just laughed.’

‘The filthy beast. I wish you’d told me earlier.’

Linda shook her head ‘What was the good? I wanted to forget it. But I feel sick every time I see him.’

‘Let me think for a minute.’ Raine spread some margarine on her bun and took a bite. ‘Ugh. I’ll never get used to marg. And now they’ve rationed that as well as butter.’ She scraped it off, then took another bite, slowly chewing, savouring the spicy flavour, all the while with Linda’s anxious face in front of her. Then she smiled. ‘I always think better with a currant bun.’

She noticed Linda hadn’t touched hers.

‘Okay, Linda,’ Raine said after a minute or two. ‘I have a plan. I’ll help you if you’ll help me.’

‘Anything,’ Linda breathed.

‘First of all, I’ll stay until the end of the week. It’s only four more days but we have things to do.’

The next morning when Flight Lieutenant Fox put his head in the door Raine was quietly at her desk working.

‘I’m pleased you’re conscientious about doing a proper day’s work in light of our conversation, Miss Linfoot,’ he said.

Raine looked up, keeping her expression neutral. ‘I couldn’t do anything else, sir.’ As he turned to go she crossed her fingers that Linda was keeping a cool head.

Half an hour later Linda came in, a grin plastered over her face, her thumb up.

Raine stopped typing. ‘You managed it, then?’

‘Yes. I asked him if he had any letters to dictate. I could see the letter you’re talking about already in the filing tray. So I picked up the files with the letter on the top and asked what I should write back. He told me to ignore it. “Not worth a reply,” he said. “We don’t have anyone here who would be suitable.”’

Raine clenched her fists. ‘Then what?’

‘As soon as he went out I copied the address. I have it here.’ She took a folded piece of scrap paper from her pocket and handed it to Raine. ‘Then I filed everything in the tray, including the letter which I put in a new file I made up called ATA, as I would have done normally.’

‘You don’t know what this means to me, Linda.’ Raine opened her bag and quickly tucked the scrap of paper inside the little pocket where she kept her mirror. ‘Miss Gower asked for a pilot with more experience than me, but I’m going to write to her anyway. Even if she puts me on a list. That way, if I can increase my hours I can approach her again.’ She glanced at Linda. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

‘I enjoyed doing it,’ Linda said. ‘I felt like a spy.’ She giggled.

Raine smiled. ‘So that’s the first part of the plan carried out successfully. The second part we’ll do on Friday, my last day.’

‘You know, I’ve been thinking a lot since yesterday,’ Linda said. ‘I don’t even like office work but it’s bearable when you’re here. Now you’re leaving I’m giving in my notice. So Foxy will lose both of us at the same time. Serve him right.’

‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Linda?’

‘I’m very sure,’ Linda said mischievously. ‘I’m old enough to join the ATS. And that’s what I intend to do. Get in with some of the action.’

‘That’s a marvellous plan,’ Raine said, smiling. ‘I think you’ll be a real asset. But we should still report the swine, as who knows what he might do to the next unsuspecting girl. So we’ll keep our appointment this afternoon. Agreed?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Linda nodded enthusiastically. ‘I can’t wait.’

An hour before the time the two girls were due to leave, the phone rang. Raine picked it up.

‘Flight Lieutenant Fox here. I’m ringing to tell you that appointment you and Miss Rogers have this afternoon with the CO has been cancelled.’

Anger swept through her body. What was going on? Why was Foxy giving her the message? Had he somehow got wind of the reason the two of them were about to talk to his senior with some problem? His behaviour, for instance?

‘His secretary suggests Wednesday next week,’ he continued, ‘but of course you won’t be here.’ He gave a chuckle and the line went dead.

‘That was Foxy,’ Raine said to Linda who’d stopped typing to listen. ‘Our appointment’s been cancelled.’ Fury coated her words.

‘Why?’

‘He didn’t give a reason but I think he guessed.’

Linda chewed her lower lip. ‘Raine, it’s no good. It won’t get us anywhere – and I’ll be leaving anyway.’

Raine sighed heavily. ‘Well, I suppose at least we tried. But I can’t bear the idea that he’ll get away with his disgusting behaviour.’

She finished the letter she was typing for him, not bothering to correct his grammar. Let them all think what an ignorant little— She stopped the bad word before it formed. She banged the lever of the carriage to the left, typed the valediction, rolled out the letter and for the last time shoved the cover over the machine.

‘That’s it,’ she told Linda. ‘I’m not doing any more for that rat.’

As though on cue, Foxy came in and pointedly looked at the covered typewriter.

‘I see you’ve already packed up,’ he said. ‘But there is one more thing.’

Raine waited. What now?

‘According to the rules, when someone leaves, their bag has to be inspected.’ He smiled his oily smile. ‘Just a precaution. I’m sure it’s not necessary in your case, Miss Linfoot, but we’ll do it anyway, just so I can make a note on the file that I carried out the correct procedure to the letter.’

Dear God, no. He knew. The incriminating evidence was there for him to find. She’d be in real trouble, but worse, so would Linda. Her heart thumping, Raine glanced at the girl, who seemed to have frozen, her eyes wide with dismay. She opened her mouth but Raine quickly shot her a warning look.

‘We won’t wait until five thirty,’ he said. ‘We’ll do it now and then you can go early. So just tip your things out of the bag where I can see them.’ He thrust out his chest and folded his arms, his attention focused on Raine’s handbag.

Cursing inwardly, Raine opened it, deliberately taking out the items one by one and laying them on the desk. The fountain pen her father had bought her for her eighteenth birthday, a notebook, her purse, a sanitary towel wrapped in a brown paper bag (please don’t let him look in there), a small fabric bag she’d made at school to hold her comb and lipstick … everything except the mirror with Miss Gower’s address tucked behind it.

‘That’s everything,’ she said.

‘What’s in that paper bag?’

‘A woman’s item,’ Raine said, choking with rage that he should put her through this.

He opened it and peered inside, made a grimace then dropped the paper bag back with the other items with a flick of his fingers as though it were something revolting. Just when she thought she’d got away with it, he put his hand out and jerked his head towards the bag.

‘Give me the handbag.’

Pulse racing, she kept it open as she handed it to him.

Keep calm, Raine. Don’t let him see you’re at all anxious.

Her stomach growled in defiance as she watched him put his hand in the space, fingering all the corners.

‘Ah, a secret pocket, no less …’ He paused, his mouth twisting. Raine’s stomach clenched. ‘What have we got here?’ A flash of disappointment crossed his face as he laid the mirror on the table with the other items. ‘Now I think we can say the bag is empty,’ he sneered. ‘All right, Miss Linfoot, you can be on your way.’

He marched out of the office, giving the door a slam.

‘Phew,’ Linda said. ‘I couldn’t have held my breath much longer.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘I really thought he’d find the note. Didn’t I see you put it in your handbag?’

‘I don’t understand,’ Raine said, shaking her head. She picked up her empty handbag and sat at what was her desk, running her fingers inside the mirror pocket. ‘Why didn’t he find it when he pulled out the mirror?’ She looked up, appealing to Linda. ‘I pushed the note behind it, but it’s not here.’

‘It must be.’

Raine turned her bag upside down but nothing fell out. Mystified, she peered inside, then searched the mirror pocket again. It had to be in here. And then one of her fingers felt a flap in the lining and she remembered. Triumphantly, she pulled out the tiny piece of paper.

‘Here it is,’ she said as she waved it towards Linda. ‘There was a tear in the lining that it got caught behind. I keep meaning to ask Suzy if she’d stitch it. I’m glad I didn’t.’ Raine chuckled. ‘It saved my life where Foxy is concerned.’ She tossed the contents back into her bag. There’d be plenty of time to tidy it up later.

‘You’d make a great spy,’ Linda said, smiling now. ‘Oh, Raine, I’m going to miss you. Will you leave me your address?’

Raine scribbled her address on a scrap of paper from Linda’s wastepaper basket. ‘You can get hold of me here,’ she said. ‘We’ll keep in touch. I want to know how you get on in the ATS.’

Linda nodded. ‘Now, where shall I put this?’ she said, glancing at the address. ‘I don’t think I have a special slot for top-secret notes in my handbag.’

Raine grinned and gave the girl a quick hug. ‘You’ll find somewhere, I’m sure. Maybe down your bra. Wouldn’t Foxy love to discover that?’

‘He’d wish he hadn’t,’ Linda said fervently, then caught Raine’s eye and they both burst out laughing.

‘I hope I shan’t be around for him to find out,’ Linda said. ‘Trouble is, I think I’ll have to wait until I’m officially accepted in the ATS before I give my notice. I need the money to help Mum with the other kids or I’d follow you out of the door.’ She rolled the carriage of her typewriter to pull out the last letter she’d typed. ‘I want to know if you get into that air transport place.’

‘The ATA?’ Raine said grimly. ‘If I don’t, it won’t be for want of trying.’

Chapter Eight

‘I’m very content you have left that place,’ Simone said when Raine told the family at supper that evening the news that her services were no longer required. ‘Maybe you will now forget about flying and do something sensible.’

‘Maman, you don’t understand. I’d give anything to be up there, helping our boys.’

‘Then I am glad you will never be allowed. The men must be left to get on with their job.’

Raine managed to stop herself from mentioning the possibility of joining the ATA. It would only lead to another argument, and anyway she might not ever be accepted.

‘Maman, we all have to do something to help.’ Her mother opened her mouth to interrupt but Raine continued. ‘Look what’s happened already in the Channel Islands. Poor innocent people. British subjects and we haven’t sent anyone to help them. I bet anything Hitler will have his evil eyes on us next. They’re always talking at work about his plans to invade us.’

‘Well, you are no longer at work,’ her mother flashed. ‘Why do you not come and help me with collecting the aluminium for your precious aeroplanes?’

‘I’m a qualified pilot,’ Raine half rose from the table in frustration that her mother simply had no idea what drove her daughter, ‘not a scrap metal collector.’

‘Lorraine, sit down,’ her father interrupted. ‘And don’t demean your mother’s efforts. Eat your meal – a feat in itself with all the rationing.’

Raine sat down, biting back a retort, knowing when her father called her ‘Lorraine’ he wasn’t going to tolerate any more backchat, as he called it.

‘There will be no further discussion on the subject of invasion in front of your sisters.’ Maman popped a morsel of meat between her perfectly painted lips. ‘I will not have it.’

How can her father ever have said she was like Maman? Raine gritted her teeth.

‘Very nice stew, Simone,’ her father said mildly as he placed his knife and fork neatly together. ‘Did you have to queue very long for the meat?’

‘You don’t need to change the subject, Dad,’ Ronnie spoke up. ‘Suzy and I aren’t babies. We do listen to the wireless.’ She turned to Raine. ‘What are you going to do now you’ve left Biggin Hill?’

‘Find out if there’s any way I can increase my flying hours,’ Raine said without hesitating.

‘You’ll find the answer,’ Ronnie said, ignoring their mother’s glare. ‘You always do.’

Later, Raine went upstairs to write her letter to Miss Gower in private before Suzanne came back from her music lesson. She sat on the edge of her bed with a sheet of writing paper and a book underneath to act as a desk. Uncapping her pen, she began to write.

Dear Miss Gower,

I understand you are seeking pilots, both male and female, to join your ferry pool at Hatfield and I would like to apply.

I have twenty hours with a ‘C’ pilot’s licence – mostly in Tiger Moths at Hart’s Flying Club near Biggin Hill in Kent, but since the war started I haven’t had much opportunity to increase the hours.

I would be very pleased to come for an interview any time at your convenience and in the meantime, I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

Lorraine Linfoot (Miss)

She read it through once, swiftly, and decided it couldn’t be improved. The message was simple. She was a qualified pilot and would love to join the ATA. The only thing holding her back was that blasted two hundred and fifty hours minimum flying time.

She folded the letter and stuck it in an envelope, then licked the flap and pressed it firmly down. Using the note Linda had slipped her, she carefully copied the address. She’d go to the post office first thing in the morning. If only she could increase her flying hours … but with a war on, and the expense, and now no job to pay for them, and no civilian flying clubs open even if she could, she was seeing her dream slowly drift away.

‘Maman said you were in our room.’ Suzanne crept in. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘Course not. How did your lesson go?’

‘Not so well today.’ Suzanne flopped on her bed. ‘I couldn’t seem to concentrate.’

‘Why not?’

Suzanne breathed out a long sigh. ‘All this war stuff. And I’m old enough to do something towards it.’ She looked at Raine. ‘Like you, being a pilot. That ought to be really useful.’

‘You would think,’ Raine said, pulling a face. ‘And there’s an organisation called the ATA – the Air Transport Auxiliary – who will actually accept women pilots, but I haven’t enough hours clocked up.’

Suzanne’s eyes were warm with sympathy. ‘Do you know who’s in charge?’

‘Yes, it’s a Miss Pauline Gower. In fact, I’ve just finished writing a letter to her to apply.’ Raine waved the envelope in front of her sister. ‘But I don’t hold out much hope. She wants girls … women with a lot more experience than I’ve got – even though I know damned well I could be trained to do the job.’

Suzanne gave her a hug. ‘Well, at least you’ll have tried. And you know what? I have a strong feeling this Miss Gower might make an exception for you.’

Raine hugged her back. ‘You’ve always been my greatest fan,’ she chuckled. ‘But I’m concerned about you. Maman will go mad if you don’t keep up your lessons. Which you would have to forego if you really wanted to do something worthwhile in the war.’

‘It’d be worth it,’ Suzanne said soberly. ‘I can pick it up again when the war’s over. People are saying it shouldn’t last more than another year.’

‘It’s barely started as far as Great Britain is concerned,’ Raine said. ‘Our boys are still fighting off the Luftwaffe, so I think we’re in for a long haul. They said at the start of the Great War that it would be over by Christmas, which was only a few months away … and look how long that one lasted – four terrible years for those poor soldiers in the trenches. Who knows how bad this one will get before Mr Hitler realises he’ll never get the better of us.’

It was only five days later, on a crisp autumn morning, that the postman handed Raine a typed addressed envelope. She didn’t dare think it might be from Miss Gower. She glanced at the postmark: Hatfield. She couldn’t help her lips curving in a smile. This letter could change her life.

‘Looks like it’s good news,’ he said, giving her a wink.

‘I hope so.’

She stood outside the garden gate watching the postman cycle off whistling, and contrary to her father’s instructions to always use a letter opener, she ripped the envelope open where she stood and withdrew a folded sheet.

Until I open it I can believe Miss Gower is inviting me for an interview, she thought, the letter trembling a little in her hand. But if it’s not – sorry, you haven’t enough experience … Raine momentarily shut her eyes. But suppose it’s good news … I’d then know …

Dear Miss Linfoot,

Thank you for your letter. I was most interested to read that you are already a qualified pilot with a certain number of flying hours.

Raine’s heart leapt with excitement. She read on.

It is urgent that we recruit more ferry pilots and we are able to take a certain number of experienced women pilots. Unfortunately, I’m afraid all the places were immediately filled. However, I have put your name on a waiting list and will contact you if the situation changes. In the meantime, I suggest you join the WAAFs, as at least you will be in your chosen environment.

Yours sincerely,

Pauline Gower (Commanding Officer)

Raine stumbled to the front door, tears pouring down her cheeks without a sound, and rushed up to her bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and sobbed. How ridiculous, now the country was at war, to turn qualified pilots away, whether they happened to be female or male. There must be hundreds of women like her who wanted to do their bit for their country.

After thumping her pillow and using a few choice words, she finally got up and found a handkerchief to blow her nose. Then she went to the bathroom to splash her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes pink and puffy. She actually looked beaten. What on earth was she going to do? If she’d never dreamed of being a pilot, she would have signed up to join the WAAFs like a shot. But it would be too frustrating for her to wear the uniform and talk to male pilots, all the while knowing she would never be allowed to fly, even though she was as qualified as they were.

‘As though I’m some sort of inferior being,’ she said aloud.

Sniffing and brushing away her tears, Raine pulled the letter from her coat pocket and reread it. Miss Gower promised – well, not promised, exactly – but said she would contact her if the situation changed. In other words, if Miss Gower was given permission to take on more women. Raine supposed at least that was something. A glimmer of hope.

What to do in the meantime?

She wasn’t in the mood to think straight right now. The library. She’d cycle into Bromley and have a good look round. Libraries were full of information. She heard her mother in the kitchen so she put her head in the door.

‘Maman, I’m just going to the library to change some books.’

Her mother was peeling potatoes for dinner.

‘You’ll be back by one?’ she asked, looking up. ‘Are you all right, Lorraine? You look as though you’ve been crying.’

‘It’s probably a cold coming on,’ Raine said. ‘And yes, I should be back by one.’

That would give her plenty of time to calm down. Try to think sensibly what to do.

Mrs Jones, the elderly library assistant, looked up as Raine walked in and put her three books on the library counter. She smiled as she recognised her customer.

‘Hello, dear. Are you looking for anything in particular today?’

‘Not really,’ Raine answered. ‘Um, that is, I don’t suppose you have any information on the ATA, do you?’

Mrs Jones pushed her spectacles up her nose. ‘The ATA? I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me, dear.’

Raine explained, but Mrs Jones remained looking nonplussed.

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ she said. ‘Perhaps the librarian will know. I’ll have a word with her when she comes in later. But I have something that might interest you – if you’re set on aeroplanes, that is.’

Raine followed her over to a table with a couple of daily newspapers and a few out-of-date magazines.

‘Ah, here it is.’ Mrs Jones pounced on a magazine displaying drawings of several different aeroplanes on the cover. ‘A gentleman brought this in, in case one of our readers was interested.’ She took off her steel-rimmed glasses and smiled at Raine. ‘You’re welcome to have it, dear.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ Raine said, taking the magazine and glancing at the name: Flight. ‘I haven’t seen this one in the newsagents’. How kind of you to think of me.’ She gave Mrs Jones a beaming smile. ‘I shall really enjoy reading this.’

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’

‘No, thanks. I’ll just have a look around the shelves.’

She passed a table where there were some pamphlets about a dance on at the Palais in Bromley. She picked one up and put it in her bag without looking at it. She hadn’t been out for a long time. Perhaps that was just what was needed to cheer her up.

That evening, before supper, when Raine was in their shared room, she read Miss Gower’s letter to Suzanne.

‘Oh, Raine, how disappointing.’ Her sister regarded her. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Good question. I wish I knew.’

‘Well, you must write to this Miss Gower and thank her,’ Suzanne said firmly. ‘Maman taught us that. Tell her how disappointed you are but thank her very much for putting you on her waiting list. And that you look forward to hearing further if things change. No, on second thoughts not “if”, but when things change. Because they’re bound to with so many of our soldiers losing their lives.’ She blinked away a tear.

‘I don’t want to bother her when she’s obviously busy.’

‘I still think she’d appreciate a letter,’ Suzanne said. ‘At the very least, it will keep your name in front of her before anyone else who applies. You don’t know, but you could hear in a few weeks’ time.’

‘You’re such a wise owl,’ Raine said, smiling for the first time all day. She hugged her. ‘I’ll do it straightaway. Oh, I nearly forgot. I picked up a leaflet in the library about a dance at the Palais. I haven’t read it properly, but we’ve never had an evening out on our own, have we?’ She pulled the leaflet from her bag and handed it to her sister.

‘It’s this Saturday,’ Suzanne said, looking up excitedly. ‘Oh, Raine, I’d love to. They’ve got a jazz band playing.’ She glanced at the leaflet again. ‘Richard Spicer is the bandleader – he’s one of my favourites – and Sally Rivers is singing. She’s becoming very popular on the wireless but I’d love to hear her in person, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, but you’ll have to be the one to convince Maman,’ Raine said. ‘She’s much more likely to agree than if I asked her.’

Chapter Nine

To Raine’s astonishment her mother was actually amenable to the idea of her two daughters going to a dance together.

‘How will you come home?’ Simone asked.

‘Same way we go – on the bus,’ Raine answered.

‘Well, you may go if you promise not to lose the last bus.’

‘We promise, Maman,’ Suzanne said.

‘And to look after your sister at all times, Lorraine.’

‘I will.’

Ronnie’s face was a picture when Raine and Suzanne waltzed down the stairs on the evening of the dance.

‘Look at you two – dressed up like a dog’s dinner.’

Raine gently pulled one of Ronnie’s pigtails. ‘You’re still a baby. I’m sure in a few years’ time you’ll have given up being a tomboy and will be just as excited to go off to a dance as we are.’

‘I’m hardly a baby at fourteen,’ Ronnie protested, ‘but I just hate all that girl–boy stuff. Waiting on the edge of the floor to be asked to dance by some pimply boy with greasy hair. Ugh.’ She made an ugly face.

‘We don’t intend to dance with pimply boys,’ Suzanne said, laughing. ‘There should be a few slightly more mature ones around, being so close to the aerodrome – if they’re not all away fighting the Germans, that is. If there’s no one we fancy we’ll have a dance together, won’t we, Raine?’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Raine chuckled. ‘Come on, Suzy, we don’t want to be late and miss all the fun.’

The dance hall was packed as the two sisters entered. Raine swiftly glanced around, wondering if there was anyone she knew from Biggin Hill, but it was difficult to see the faces clearly because of so much smoke. And as many of them were in uniform it was even harder to differentiate between them. She suddenly thought of Foxy and hoped to God he wouldn’t be here or suddenly turn up.

The floor was already crowded with couples dancing to the small orchestra playing ‘Crazy Rhythm’ and Raine found herself tapping her foot to the infectious beat. She glanced at Suzanne, who was staring at the small stage, eyes half closed, mesmerised. Suzanne looked delightful in her new dress, Raine thought. Her sister had made it out of a length of bright flowered cotton that one of Maman’s housewives had given her, saying she didn’t have any spare saucepans but hoped the material would help the war effort.

Suzanne had altered one of Maman’s gowns for Raine – a bright red silky affair with a short full skirt that flew above Raine’s knees when she’d twirled in the mirror and a halterneck top. What a marvel her sister was with a sewing machine.

‘I’ll get a drink for us at the bar,’ Raine said, ‘if you can find a table.’

Even though she was tall, and wearing her eye-catching red dress, Raine could not catch the barman’s eye. Men who should have been behind her somehow edged their way in front and were served. Chewing her lip in frustration she finally elbowed her way forward and stood directly in front of one of the bartenders, then opened her mouth to give her order. Ignoring her, he nodded to the tall man who had suddenly appeared on her right. Raine sucked in a breath of irritation. What was so special about him?

She gave him a sideways glance. He was in RAF uniform, as were many of the other men – three or four years older than her, she decided. His fair hair was swept back from his forehead to show the world what a very good-looking bloke he was. He knew it, too, she thought scornfully, by the cocksure way he’d managed to get served before her. He had no manners. He jolly well knew she was at the bar before him.

As though he felt her staring, he turned to her. His eyes, the green of a blade of grass, held hers. And then he smiled. She gave a start. She’d seen that smile before. It lit up his face. But where? At this moment he was regarding her with open admiration, but it did nothing to thwart her temper.

‘Excuse me, but I’ve been standing here for ten minutes.’ She flashed him an angry look. ‘But I realise I must be invisible.’

‘Oh, no,’ he chuckled. ‘Believe me, you are extremely visible – particularly in that vampire’s dress.’

‘In that case, I’d like to put my order in before you,’ she snapped.

‘Be my guest.’

He shifted no more than an inch or two, supposedly giving her the impression he was letting her go in front. She noticed his wings and the two bars on the cuffs of his tunic. He was a pilot – and an officer. He wouldn’t have had any trouble joining up. The RAF would have welcomed him with open arms. And because she was a woman she was not only denied getting into the ATA to do something worthwhile for the war effort through lack of solo air miles, but it was also as though this cocky pilot was rubbing her nose in it at the same time.

Common sense finally came to the rescue and aware that the bartender was enjoying the little scene, she said in as cool a tone as she could muster, ‘Two lemonades, please.’

‘Coming right up,’ the barman said, and she saw a wink pass between the two of them.

They were laughing at her! In a split second she’d turned on her heel, but the pilot was too fast. He grabbed her arm.

‘Hey, what’s the matter? You’ve made your point. You’re being served now.’

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 laughing 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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.