Page 11 of The Spitfire Girls
The four women with her were laughing, but the two women in front of her were not. She stared back at their bland, unimpressed expressions and sighed. This was going to be a long few months.
‘I’m Commander May Jones,’ the older woman said, with a frown. ‘And this is Executive Officer Ruby Sanders. It’s a pleasure to have you here to join us.’
Lizzie held out her hand. ‘And it’s an honour to join you ladies here, even if the laughsaregoing to be far and few between. Anyhow, it’s good to have my two feet on solid ground again instead of lurching around at sea.’
They shook hands and she introduced the other four, noticing that her new associates still looked as though they’d sucked a lemon. ‘This is Ann Foster, Sandy Freeman, Brooke Mayweather and Ruth Powers. They’re my best four fliers and we can’t wait to join you ladies in the sky.’
‘Tell us about your crossing,’ Ruby said as May led them away. ‘We heard you were caught in a ferocious storm and had to pass by a German blockade.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘It was worth it to come here and fly, but I have to confess that knowing the last convoy lost six out of ten vessels didn’t give us the most confidence.’
‘You’re telling us that now?’ Ann shrieked. ‘Those odds were terrible at best!’
‘Tell me more about when we’ll be flying. I hear we’re to be put up at the Savoy in London,’ said Lizzie, ignoring Ann’s horrified question and stepping closer to May. ‘I want to hearallabout it.’
‘Yes, you’ll be at the Savoy. We’ll be travelling to London by train in the morning, but tonight we’d like to invite you all to dinner at the Adelphi Hotel. We have a table booked for seven-thirty.’
‘Sounds wonderful. One last fine dinner before we knuckle down and start work.’
Lizzie could almost imagine what they were thinking, these two prim and proper English roses. Was that what they called the pretty, porcelain-skinned women in England? They’d no doubt seen their brazen kisses and hugs of the ragged crew members, watched as they laughed and chatted and disembarked as if it was all an adventure, and were wondering what on earth Americans were about. Once they saw her flying, though, saw her determination in the air, they’d soon realise that any preconceived ideas were wrong. They weren’t guests of the British government for nothing, and she was looking forward to showing them precisely why they’d been given such special treatment.
Lizzie walked through the restaurant and touched her hand to her blonde hair, gently patting her curls to make sure they were still perfectly in place. She was exhausted and ready to fall into bed, but she wasn’t about to let her English sisters in arms think she didn’t have the stamina to join them. She saw May and Ruby ahead, still dressed in their perfect little uniforms, and wondered if she’d dressed up a little too much for dinner with her new colleagues. Trouble was, she’d only packed one nice dress and a pair of heels to go out in, and as far as her hair and make-up went – well, she wasn’t going anywhere without her trademark pink lipstick firmly in place. It didn’t matter if she was flying or dining: she always wore a sweep of Chanel. She thought of her mother telling her to make herself look confident even if she didn’t feel it, then firmly pushed away all thoughts of her and her sobs as they’d parted. Her daddy had held her tight, then given her a smile and a wink that told her everything she needed to know. ‘You can do this,’ he’d whispered in her ear.
‘Ladies,’ she said as she approached the table. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
They both smiled back at her, but May gestured to the vacant seats. ‘We seem to be missing the others, too. Have you seen them?’
Lizzie grimaced. ‘Oh, well, I tried to rouse them but it seems it’ll just be the three of us.’ It wasn’t the best first impression they could have made, but they’d clearly been exhausted and she didn’t want to be too hard on them yet. ‘We had an intense training programme in Montreal and I expect they wanted a decent rest before travelling to London tomorrow.’
‘I see,’ May said abruptly, clearly annoyed. ‘I expect they’ll be more reliable once we reach our headquarters? We also have a rather intense training programme here in England, and I’d hate to think they’re not cut out for it after coming all this way.’
‘You won’t have to worry about them. Drinks?’ Lizzie asked, brushing the criticism off. ‘What do you girls recommend on this side of the ocean?’
A waiter appeared and May spoke up. ‘Three Pimm’s, please.’
Lizzie noticed Ruby’s raised brows.
‘Since when do you drink?’ Ruby asked.
‘Since our American cousins stood us up,’ May replied tartly.
Lizzie stifled a laugh at her rigid response. ‘It’s only dinner, May. Don’t get your knickers in a knot. And do tell me what a Pimm’s is, would you?’
May’s stare was as cold as ice. ‘That’sCommanderJonesto you, and I’ll have you know that I wouldn’t accept this level of tardiness from even my newest recruits. Your pilots should be here.’
‘My apologies,Commander,’ Lizzie said, giving her a mock salute before laughing; the look on the other woman’s face was almost comical.
‘A Pimm’s is alcohol and lemonade mixed together,’ Ruby interrupted in an obvious effort to diffuse the situation. ‘Before the war we’d mix fruit with it – it’s divine with summer berries thrown in.’
Lizzie sat back and considered the women in front of her. She wasn’t sure exactly how Ruby fitted in, but May was clearly her superior, and from the way Ruby kept glancing at her, it was obvious she wanted to please her. Perhaps she was new to flying, or at least newly recruited. May was clearly the one she needed to impress, not her little sidekick, and they’d already got off on the wrong foot.
‘So tell me,’ Lizzie said, addressing May. ‘What’s it really like flying those beautiful big planes day in, day out?’
The look on May’s face softened a little. ‘The day you first fly a plane that you know scares the heck out of men? Nothing beats that feeling,’ she replied. ‘Knowing that you’re delivering it, and that within hours it could be shooting at the enemy – it’s incredible.’
‘So what kind of planes will I be able to get my hands on?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Anything exciting?’
‘Well, Spitfires to begin with,’ May said. ‘Depending on your aptitude, you may be put forward for the larger four-engine bombers, but we haven’t had a woman cleared to fly one yet. Training is soon to begin at our all-female airfield in Hamble, and in fact they’re making quite a big deal about who might be the first to officially fly one.’
