Page 98 of The Spitfire Girls
She went to make them tea, listening to the laughter and baby talk, imagining a day when she and Ben might have a brood of their own playing out there. After half a decade of everything feeling so painful, of not being able to see the light, suddenly she felt as if she were bathed in it.
‘You didn’t die for nothing,’ she whispered, as she looked skyward. They’d lost so many men, but they were free now. And without all that sacrifice, there would only have ever been darkness.
EPILOGUE
WHITEWALTHAMAIRFIELD,ENGLAND,
AUGUST2008
RUBY
Ruby held on to her grandson’s arm as they walked out towards the airfield at White Waltham on the sixty-fourth anniversary of V-J Day. She smiled over at May, Ben, Lizzie and Jackson as she stepped onto the grass, remembering the first time she’d eyed up a Spitfire, ready to prove her flying skills, and the moment she’d stood beside May, her commanding officer, and received news that she was to transfer to Hamble and fly four-engine bombers. It was a lifetime ago; a time that her grandson would never be able to comprehend, no matter how many times he asked her about the planes she flew and the near misses she’d had in the sky. He was an impeccable young pilot himself; she was hardly able to believe that she was old enough to have a grandson dressed in a Royal Air Force uniform, serving his country as she’d done at the same age.
‘You okay, Grandma?’ he asked, patting her hand.
She smiled up at him. ‘I might be old, but an itty-bitty Spitfire isn’t enough to scare me,’ she said. The truth was, she wondered if she still had the nerves to go up in the aircraft at all, but at almost ninety years of age, she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to fly one last time. She could imagine confessing her fears to Lizzie afterwards and the old biddy telling her to toughen up, and the thought only made her more determined to climb into the cockpit.
‘You don’t have to be brave for me, Grandma,’ Lewis said with a grin.
He reminded her of the men she’d met when she’d been flying, except that her grandson had grown up seeing women doing anything and everything, and back then they’d been the first of their kind. She’d never forgotten the look on most of the male pilots’ faces on seeing her climb out of a plane, especially a Wellington or a Walrus. They’d almost tripped over their jaws.
Ruby looked back at the gathered crowd and wished her husband were there to see her. He’d been her biggest advocate, her Tom, even when his mother had refused to attend the christening of their first child in protest at her daughter-in-law’s flying for the RAF; he would have been so happy to see her in a Spitfire once again.You’ve made me the proudest husband, Ruby. She could still hear his words: he’d said the same thing to her every year when they’d quietly toasted the anniversary of V-J Day.How many men can say their wives actually helped to win the war from the sky?
‘You know, these were my favourite planes, even though I did like being in charge of those big bombers,’ she said.
Lewis laughed. ‘I know, Grandma,’ he said, and she realised she’d probably told him a hundred times. ‘I’m embarrassed that you’ve flown more planes than I ever will.’
‘The perfect ladies’ plane, that’s what they used to call the Spitfire. Although I doubt they were ever designed with women in mind.’ She stood beside it now, a wave of nostalgia hitting her harder than she’d expected. She took a deep, shaky breath as memories flooded back from her flying days. Sometimes it only felt like yesterday – the adrenaline rush of flying high, the dread of seeing a pilot’s name erased from the board in their mess room or the stomach-curling feeling of limping back to base in a plane that was no longer airworthy. Seeing the wreckage of the plane that had killed her friend Polly. They’d done things that even now seemed impossible.
‘Grandma, we looked for this plane for a very long time,’ Lewis started, his smile as wicked as his granddad’s had always been. ‘I think you might have flown her before. Does she look familiar?’
Ruby’s eyes were wide as she looked it over. ‘Help me up,’ she said, knees creaking as she pulled herself up and into the cockpit. She bent and squinted, studying the cockpit, looking for the letters she’d scrawled there all those years ago.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ she said, laughing and sitting down in the seat, shifting back and recalling the hours she’d sat there.
‘If we scribbled our signature in a plane now, we’d be fired on the spot,’ he told her, looking pleased with himself for surprising her. ‘Now, what do you say we get this old lady up in the air?’
‘Don’t go calling me an old lady,’ she retorted.
‘Grandma, I was talking about the plane,’ he said with a laugh.
The truth was, they were both old ladies now, and she knew this would be her last flight in a fighter plane, the very last time she’d ever take to the skies unless in a commercial jet liner. Her only wish was that Tom were beside her, so she could smile across at him as they took to the sky side by side.
Ruby shut her eyes for a moment, remembering every step, knowing the plane as well as she knew her little car. She settled into her place and Lewis helped her with her straps, securing her just as their mechanics had always done. Ground crew appeared, and she noticed them assisting, but her eyes couldn’t leave the interior of the beautiful old warplane, taking her back in time, her memories coming to life. Once upon a time, this was all she’d lived for.
Lewis took control and started her up, the engine kicking into life, the noise even louder than she remembered. Or maybe it was the way it rattled her old bones that intensified the noise and vibrations, her legs somehow even shorter in her seat than they’d been back then.
‘Ready, Grandma?’ he shouted.
She nodded, blinking away tears as she tightened the knot in her scarf and thanked the heavens that she’d worn warm clothes. But even if she got frostbite, it would be worth it to be back in the air. She’d survived colder temperatures for hours all those years ago, she’d been almost frozen into her seat, so she’d survive this.
Her stomach flipped the way it always had at take-off, and when they finally started to taxi down the airfield she felt a sense of relief. The plane lifted, the nose pointing skyward as they slowly rose, higher and higher, settling just below the cloud cover as they’d always been instructed to do.
The sky was blue and bright, and Ruby watched her capable grandson, remembering a time when it had been her husband teaching her and showing her the ropes. Lewis had turned to smile back at her and was gesturing at the controls. He couldn’t be serious, could he? But his thumbs-up suggested he was.
He wanted her to take over. She was certain the RAF wouldn’t be so happy to know an old pilot who was about to celebrate her ninetieth birthday was flying one of their best and most well-preserved aircraft, but the opportunity was too good to miss. She’d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and she wasn’t about to start now, no matter how terrifying the prospect might be.
She nodded and took a deep breath before taking over on the dual controls. It all came back to her, as natural as breathing; suddenly it was as if she were in her twenties again, settling in for a long flight to deliver a plane.You don’t need me as your co-pilot anymore. You’ve turned into more of a Spitfire than those planes you love so much.You can do this without me, my little bird. Don’t be afraid. Tom’s words were comforting as she soared through the sky.
