Page 43 of The Spitfire Girls
‘It’s starting to clear.’
Ruby nodded. ‘Wheels-up as soon as we can, sir.’
‘You know, I have every confidence in you,’ MacMillan said, surprising her; his praise was as rare as a rooster that laid eggs. ‘I was in the control tower the day you landed after your first solo training session in a Halifax, and the group captain nearly fell off his chair when he was told a woman was bringing the beast in to land. I think his jaw hit the ground when he watched how well you’d mastered it, although he wasn’t impressed to see a woman land a plane that his men moan about trying to bring down.’
His praise did precisely what he’d no doubt intended. A weight immediately lifted from Ruby’s shoulders and she smiled, knowing how badly he wanted her to succeed. And how much he believed in her.
Much to her amazement, or perhaps because of the constant litany of prayers she was sending skyward, the clouds slowly began to lift. The light patter of rain didn’t disappear, but Ruby wasn’t scared of a little rain.
‘I can do this,’ she whispered under her breath as she strode toward the monstrous plane. She nodded to Ben, pleased that he’d been the one to clear her for take-off.
When she entered the giant aircraft, she groaned and realised she’d forgotten to check there was a cushion for her. She was tiny – it was no great secret that she was technically too small to be flying, given the ATA guidelines – and she had no hope of a successful flight if she was so far from the controls.
‘Excuse me,’ she called out, ‘I need someone to get me a cushion.’
Ben had already disappeared, but Ruby heard the laughter from the ground crew below and tried to stay calm as blood rushed to her face and anger pulsed through every inch of her.
‘Not comfy enough in there for you, luv?’ one of the guys called back.
She took a deep breath and prepared to climb out. ‘I’ll have you know ...’ she started, then realised it didn’t matter. No one was interested in helping a stupid little woman, and no one was ever going to go back to the mess room for her, even for the first woman to pilot a bomber.
‘Fine, I’ll get one myself!’ she fumed. She could have tried rolling up her jacket or putting her bag behind her, but it was an important flight and she needed to be comfortable and safe. She clambered back out of the cockpit, but as she did so a figure appeared, running along the tarmac.
‘You looking for this?’ Lizzie called out, waving a cushion.
Ruby grinned in relief. ‘How did you know?’
‘I knew thosearseholeswouldn’t get it for you,’ responded Lizzie with an almost faultless British twang. ‘And I wanted to wish you luck one last time.’ She gave Ruby
a big, warm hug. ‘You’re going to be amazing, Ruby. I can’t wait to hear all about the first flight.’
‘Thanks, Liz,’ Ruby murmured, hugging her back. Then, with Lizzie’s help, she climbed back up into her seat.
‘Go show them what girls can do!’ Lizzie hollered, then turned to the men gathered around. ‘And next time get the woman a damn cushion when she needs one. You’re acting as if you’ve never seen a woman fly a bomber before!’
With the cushion underneath her and her heart starting to thud, Ruby prepared the plane, flicking switches and checking the controls.
‘Contact!’ she yelled, before turning on the big engine.
The noise of the huge plane rumbled through her. As she taxied down the long runway, she whispered a prayer and felt her heart leap the moment the wheels left the ground. And just like that, she was flying, the first woman ever to ferry a four-engine bomber – a Halifax with a 98-foot wingspanat that!
‘I did it!’ she squealed. ‘I did it,’ she whispered this time, and settled in for the cross-country flight to Yorkshire. She knew her route, had maps to consult as she needed them, and the weather was still clearing. All she had to hope for were no rogue German planes, increasing visibility and a decent landing at the other end – although the Halifax was fully loaded, and she knew exactly which button to push if she needed to unleash her fury on a plane marked with a black swastika on its fuselage.
She was the first four-engine female bomber, and for the first time since she’d started flying she didn’t need to glance at the co-pilot seat beside her. She didn’t need Tom, she didn’t need an instructor to back her up, she just needed to trust in herself and her ability to get the job done. She listened to the blissful silence inside her own head. All this time, Tom’s voice had been in there, telling her what to do, talking her through every step. But now the only voice she could hear was her own.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAMBLEAIRFIELD,HAMPSHIRE,ENGLAND,
JULY1942
LIZZIE
‘Lizzie?’
Lizzie sniffed and quickly wiped her cheeks. She didn’t need May to see her like this, or anyone else for that matter.
‘What’s wrong? Do you need a moment?’ May asked.
