Page 90 of The Spitfire Girls
I’m so very proud of everything you’ve achieved. I can hardly believe that my little girl is commanding an entire squadron of pilots, and women at that!’
She smiled, reaching for his hand.
‘You always believed in yourself, and without that confidence we may never have seen women in the sky during this war. When I was a pilot, we would have laughed at the idea that women could help us the way you’re helping us now. But look at you, doing this for the war, being the leader of a team, just as I was. We’re nothing without our squadron, and ...’
The words abruptly stopped, and Lizzie looked up, wanting to know what else he was going to say.
‘Daddy?’ she said, bending forward. His eyes were open, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Daddy?’
She shook his hand, but received no response. Then she gently squeezed his shoulder as a cold sensation passed through her.
‘Fly high, Daddy,’ she whispered through her tears, the letter slipping from her fingers as she dropped over him and gave him one last hug. ‘Fly high.’
PART THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TEXAS,1944
LIZZIE
‘No!’ Lizzie screamed, anger thumping through her as she hastily read the letter from Hap. Her hands shook as she balled it up and threw it across the room.
She ran out of her office and into the open, gulping in breaths of warm air as she tried to come to terms with what she’d just read. It couldn’t be true, could it? Could this really be the end? The sun was beating down, sending her temperature soaring. First her daddy and now this?
She saw her pilots, some milling about in groups, some walking on their own. She saw planes lined up, looked skyward and saw aircraft in the sky.
‘Liz?’ Jackson’s big, warm hand covered her shoulder.
‘It’s over,’ she choked. ‘We’re done.’
‘What do you mean,we’re done?’ he asked.
She pointed towards her office, not wanting to go back in there. She didn’t want to read it again, didn’t want to acknowledge that her threat had led to the end of the WASPs. Maybe Hap was simply too busy to worry about a group of women; he was directing the war in the air over Europe, after all. But without them, without the WASPs, they wouldn’t have had the necessary support at home, they wouldn’t have ... She pushed her thoughts away and walked down to the barracks, taking in the pilots sunning themselves, wooden chairs tipped upside down so they could lean back and sunbathe.
When she finally returned to her office, she found Jackson sitting in her chair, holding the crumpled paper in one hand. He looked up when she entered, but his gaze said it all. She marched over and took the letter from his hands, needing to see it again to make sure she hadn’t dreamt it up; but it was very much reality.
‘I am proud of you young women,’ Lizzie read, clearing her throat and skipping down a bit further. ‘When we needed you, you came through and have served most commendably under very difficult circumstances.’
Jackson came to stand beside her, tucked his arm around her. ‘You have freed male pilots for other work, but now the situation has changed and your volunteered services are no longer needed,’ he continued for her. ‘My sincerest thanks and Happy Landings, as always.’
They stood side by side in silence as rage built within Lizzie.
‘The bastard!’ she swore. ‘How could he do this to us?’
Jackson let the letter drop to the floor and wrapped her tightly in his arms as she cried into his chest. Lizzie never cried; she never let anyone see her vulnerabilities, but in Jackson’s arms she cried and cried and cried until she couldn’t cry any longer. First over her father, and now this.
‘We can fight this,’ he muttered. ‘Youcan fight this.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, we can’t. It’s over, Jackson.’ She shut her eyes, knowing she needed to pull herself together before she bravely faced her girls. They would all be receiving the letter the following day, and she needed to be there for them, to be strong and reassure them what an incredible role they’d played in this war. Her daddy’s passing had almost crushed her, but she’d refused to give up, returning to base within a week of his death. He’d made it clear to her that his squadron was everything to him, and hers was to her now, too.
‘It’s one thing for men to let women fly, but it’s another thing entirely when they start to think you’re replacing them,’ Jackson said. ‘The idiots can’t even see why we need you so much.’
She placed a hand to his chest, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. Jackson’s hands slipped to her waist and he kissed her back, his lips so gentle as he comforted her. He’d been there for her when she’d truly needed him, and it was about time she showed him how much that meant to her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, as he gently wiped her tears, his thumb drying her wet cheek.
‘For what?’
