Page 108 of Never Tear Us Apart
I know that it’s Danny.
‘Maia,’ Stella says gently. ‘Please let me help you.’
Just then, the Spit is hit. Smoke trails from one wing. The other plane loops around and swoops back in. I can’t hear the exchange of gunfire, but I do see another plume of smoke, this time from the Spitfire’s engine. My heart pumps blood furiously around my body, and reserves of energy I did not think I possessed surge through me.
The time is now.
The Messerschmitt peels away, and the Spit turns, heading for the airfield. Out of options, Danny needs to try to land.
‘Ground crews,’ the shout goes out over the Tannoy. ‘Fire and rescue, get ready.’
‘He’s going to have to make an emergency landing,’ I tell Stella as she comes to my side. ‘It’s Danny, Stella.’
‘You can’t know that,’ she replies. ‘You can’t know it’s Danny.’
‘But I do,’ I say.
When I look at her, she sees my expression and knows it, too.
We watch with bated breath as the little plane judders into position to make a landing on the runway. It seems to fall and level, fall and level, almost like a controlled crash.
‘Landing gear is fucked!’ someone calls. ‘Gonna be a belly flop.’
Firefighting trucks head towards where the Spit will land. Stella and I watch transfixed as the aircraft’s engines sputter and cut, smoke pouring from her wounds.
At the very last moment, Danny pulls up and the Spit overshoots the end of the runway, almost skimming the tops of the fire trucks as he tries to avoid crashing into the people on the ground. Somehow, he turns the Spitfire hard and she comes down, ploughing into the earth with a horrifying crunch and screech of metal.
The plane slides through the dry earth, far out of reach of the men on standby, ploughing into the deep-red soil at alarming speed, far closer to me and Stella than to the rescue teams.
I’m running towards it before I’m even aware of what I’m doing – Stella, too. Stella’s longer legs and months of constant walking power her ahead of me. The Spit crumples into a low wall, and bright flames burst into life at once.
I catch up with Stella.
‘He’s not trying to get out,’ she says as she runs. Far behind us, we can hear the crews heading our way. ‘He mustbe injured or unconscious.’ She glances over her shoulder. ‘They won’t be here in time.’
Adrenalin pumps through me, my legs fly, my lungs open. Power surges through me, and I feel invincible.
‘Stand back,’ I order Stella as she is just about to get on the wing. ‘Let me! I know how to get the canopy open – get ready for him.’
Smoke fills my eyes and my nose, and I leap onto the wing of the aircraft, heat already singeing the hairs on my arms. Danny is slumped inside, his head lolling forwards. I see the button he told me about, the one to trigger the release mechanism that allows the canopy to slide open, positioned underneath the external rear-view mirror. On my first attempt, I can’t quite reach it with enough pressure to push. On the second, it burns my palms. Then there’s a small explosive noise, hardly more than a soft pop, and suddenly, small flames appear inside the cockpit.
It’s now or never. Launching myself at the button, I manage it. The canopy slides open halfway and then sticks – the heat must have warped it. I don’t feel the pain anymore as I wrench it open, wide enough to reach in and release Danny’s harness. Grabbing at his Mae West life preserver, I try with all my might to drag him from his seat, but I’m not strong enough. The pain shocks him conscious, and he stares at me, disorientated.
‘Danny, you need to get out now or you’re going to die,’ I tell him. ‘Make your legs move. Push up, help me get you out.Now!’
With a cry of anguish, he surges upwards. Making use of the momentum, I drag him out of the cockpit and onto the wing, just as the rescue team is arriving. There’s no choice but to roll him onto the ground. He screams as he lands. At least he’s alive. Frantically, Stella and I pull him across thedirt as far away from the plane as we can get him. Dark blood trails behind him.
‘Save his life,’ I tell Stella, looking up at the sky for any sign of the returning enemy planes. ‘You make sure you save his life.’
‘I will,’ Stella promises.
The Spit catches fire then, and the ground crew tries desperately to put it out with what foam they have left after the oil fire.
‘I need my bag,’ Stella says as she examines Danny. ‘You stay with him. I’ll get it.’
‘No! He needs you. I’ll get it. You save his life.’
As I run towards where Stella left her bag, I can’t hear anything approaching from the sky. Fights are continuing up there, but night is falling in earnest now, and soon pilots on both sides will head home. The first convoy of ships will be heading into the harbour, and before long, the island will wake up on the feast day of Santa Marija to the news that the siege is broken – that they have turned the tide against the Nazis, even though they themselves don’t know it yet.
