‘Darling, are you really sure you don’t mind me undertaking this work? I don’t know where I’m going to be, what I’m going to be doing or how often I’ll be able to get home.’ Pips laughed. ‘And even when I do find out, I’m not going to be allowed to tell anyone – not even you, apparently.’
‘My darling, I think it’s absolutely perfect for you. I spend so much time away from home now, you need something of your own to do. I know that. We’ll meet as often as we can.’ George didn’t like having secrets from his wife, but he was never going to admit to her that he had been instrumental in her being offered a place at Bletchley Park.
‘Well, if you’re sure. Right, I’d better go. I’ve a train to catch to – somewhere.’
‘Take care of yourself, my love, and write to me.’ He kissed her gently and when they drew back, she touched the brooch he had given her so many years ago that was always pinned to the lapel of whatever outfit she was wearing. ‘This will keep me safe,’ she said and her voice trembled a little.
‘Guess what?’ Gill’s excited voice came crackling down the telephone wires.
‘I couldn’t begin to guess, Gill,’ Daisy laughed. ‘But it sounds like something good.’
‘Lord Bunny is going to take me flying.’
‘Never!’
‘He is. He really is. I can hardly believe it myself.’
‘Whatever made him change his mind?’
‘The war, I suppose. Didn’t you see the pictures in the papers of the first women pilots to join the ATA? There are eight of them at the moment, but I bet there’ll soon be more joining.’
‘The what?’
‘The Air Transport Auxiliary.’
‘No, I haven’t heard of it.’ Flying? There were women who were flying as part of the war effort? Why hadn’t she known about it? Surely, Pips would have said something if she’d known. Unless, of course, her family were deliberately keeping it secret from her. Daisy’s tone was tight as she added, ‘Tell me.’
Gill launched into an explanation. ‘It’s been formed for pilots who aren’t fit for some reason or other to fly in RAF combat, but they’re perfectly capable of flying safely.’ Gill’s laughter echoed down the line. ‘Mind you, they’ve already coined the nickname “Ancient and Tattered Airmen” for them.’
‘But what are they going to do?’
‘Ferry stuff about, maybe even abroad. Goods, equipment, personnel, I suppose, but mainly aircraft from the factories to airfields in this country.’
‘New aircraft?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘So why has Lord Bunny suddenly decided to take you flying?’
‘I showed him the paper and told him that it was something I’d like to do. So, he huffed and puffed for a bit, but then said he’d take me up in his Tiger Moth.’
‘Right, then. I’m off down to Brooklands.’
‘But it’s closed for racing now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but something’ll be going on there and I know just the person who’ll know.’
‘Aunty Pips, you mean?’
‘No,’ Daisy said carefully, not wanting to blame her beloved aunt for not telling her about this. Perhaps she hadn’t heard of the ATA either. ‘I was thinking more about Uncle Mitch. I’m sure he’ll know something.’
‘You could always ask Johnny,’ Gill said archly.
‘I could indeed.’
Daisy replaced the receiver thoughtfully. She was going to have to play this very carefully.
A little later, she sought out Henrietta. ‘Granny, would you mind if I went down to see Pips at the weekend? She hasn’t been able to get home much lately, partly because of George working such long hours. I know they were here at Christmas, but that was such a flying visit and I really would like to see what’s going on at Kew Gardens too. Everything’s ticking over nicely here, so would you mind if I went?’
‘Of course not, as long as your mother and father are agreeable.’
Daisy smiled thinly and turned away. She didn’t ever want to have arguments with her family, but she did wish they would stop treating her like a child. She was twenty-two after all.
Daisy had been so anxious to get to London that she hadn’t even telephoned Pips to ask her if she could visit. She hadn’t thought for a moment that Pips might not be there, but when she rang the bell, there was no reply. A neighbour, who recognized Daisy from previous visits, let her in through the main entrance and she sat on the floor outside the door to the apartment where Pips and George lived and waited. And waited. And waited.
When dusk fell and the city streets began to grow dark, she clambered to her feet, her legs stiff from having sat for so long, and picked up her small suitcase. She left the box of food, which the cab driver had been kind enough to carry up for her, sitting outside the door. If it got stolen, then she hoped it would be by someone who needed it more than they did.
‘Good job I know where Aunty Milly lives,’ she muttered, as she clattered back down the stairs and out into the street. Daisy took a cab to the apartment, which Milly’s father had bought for her on her return from the front after the last war and where she now lived with her husband, Paul.
‘Dahling!’ Milly cried, when she opened the door and flung her arms wide in welcome. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
‘Looking for Aunty Pips, but she’s not at home. I’ve been waiting most of the afternoon.’
‘Oh, you poor thing. You must be starving. Come in, come in. Let me take your case. You must stay with us.’
‘That’s kind of you, Aunty Milly, but why? Is she away?’
‘Um – er – I don’t know. I – um – thought she was with you all in Lincolnshire.’
‘Aunty Milly,’ Daisy said, feigning severity. ‘You’re not telling me the truth, are you?’
Milly was known for never being able to keep a secret for long. She would even say to her friends, ‘Don’t tell me any confidences, you know what I’m like.’ Now, she wriggled her shoulders. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t ask me, Daisy dear.’
Daisy sighed. ‘I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, Aunty Milly, but can’t you tell me anything?’
‘Um – all I know is that she’s away, but I honestly don’t know where.’ She brightened. ‘George might be able to tell you more. He’ll be here later. He comes round two or three times a week for dinner whilst – um – Pips is away. He and Paul talk about their work to one another, but not’ – she giggled – ‘in front of me.’
Daisy smiled as she followed Milly into one of the spare rooms. ‘Now, you unpack, whilst I get dinner on the go and then, when George and Paul come home, we can eat together.’
‘Where is Paul working now?’
‘Oh, didn’t you know? He’s working at the War Office. Not in such a high-up position as George, of course, but in the same building.’
‘So, he’s not at Brooklands any more?’
Milly shook her head. ‘No, none of them are. It’s closed for racing. There’s only aircraft production going on there now.’
‘So, where’s Uncle Mitch? I was hoping to find him. There’s something I want to ask him.’
Milly’s eyes widened. ‘I really have no idea.’ This time Daisy could tell that she was speaking the truth. ‘We don’t see much of him now. He’s either at his home in Weybridge or here in London at his flat.’
‘Ah,’ Daisy said and there was a wealth of meaning behind the expression. Maybe, she thought, Uncle Paul will be able to tell me what I want to know.
The two men arrived home together and when they had greeted Daisy, George said, ‘Have you telephoned home to say where you are? I think you should. They might be worried.’
‘Use the telephone in the hallway, darling,’ Milly said. ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes now the boys are home.’
Daisy struggled to keep a straight face at hearing George referred to as a boy. He must be in his early sixties at least. Pips was forty-five and Daisy knew that George was a good few years older than his wife.
Moments later, she was speaking to her father. ‘Daddy – I’m staying at Aunty Milly’s. Aunty Pips is away.’
‘Really? Where?’
‘I don’t know yet. I haven’t had a chance to find out.’
‘Doesn’t Milly know?’
‘Apparently not.’
There was a pause before Robert said, ‘Curious. She didn’t say anything at Christmas or when she rang as usual last week. Anyway, have a good weekend. Let me know when your train is due on Monday and Jake will meet you.’
Over dinner, the conversation centred on the Maitland family and life at the hall.
‘So, Daisy, tell us everything you and your grandmother are doing.’
What had once seemed so exciting and useful to the young woman had now paled into insignificance beside the thought that she might be able to fly to help the war effort. But obediently, she launched into telling them all the changes that were taking place on the estate in an effort to help provide the country with food. ‘I’d like to visit Kew whilst I’m here, if I could, to see what they’re doing?’
‘We can arrange that for you, Daisy,’ Paul said. ‘I understand it closed for a month when the hostilities started, so that all the valuable plants could be taken to a safer area in the country, but it’s open again now and I believe they’re working on areas to demonstrate how the general public can help in the “Dig for Victory” campaign.’
‘That’s exactly what I want to see.’ There was a pause and Daisy ran her tongue around her lips. ‘There is something else I wanted to ask you.’ Carefully, she avoided mentioning Mitch. ‘Do you remember my friend Gill – from Yorkshire?’
‘The girl you were at college with? She came down here with you once, didn’t she?’ George said. ‘Pips took her to Brooklands, if I remember. Go on.’
‘She’s told me that there’s something called the Air Transport Auxiliary and that they have women pilots.’
The other three glanced at one another. There was no need for further explanation; they all knew of Daisy’s love of flying.
Carefully, Paul said, ‘Yes, I have heard of it. One of the girls Jeff taught to fly at Brooklands, just before war broke out, has joined.’ He caught and held her gaze. ‘Do I take it that you’d like to join?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Oh well, now, Daisy,’ George began, ‘I don’t think—’ He broke off and stared at her. ‘Do your parents know that this is the real reason you’ve come down here?’
Never able to lie, Daisy sighed. ‘No, Uncle George, they don’t.’
George played with his spoon, twisting it round and round on the table, his gaze on it as if he were deep in thought.
‘I want to talk to Aunty Pips. She’ll understand.’
‘I’ve no doubt she would,’ he said softly.
‘When will she be home?’
‘I really couldn’t say.’
Daisy cocked her head on one side. ‘D’you mean you can’t tell me or you won’t tell me?’
He smiled wryly. ‘A bit of both really, Daisy.’
‘Uncle George, you are exasperating at times.’
‘Look, Daisy, don’t make it harder for your uncle,’ Paul said. ‘You’re a clever and perceptive young woman. Why don’t you write a letter to Pips and we’ll make sure she gets it?’
Daisy stared at him, her mind working fast, but still she couldn’t work out what Pips could possibly be doing.
‘Actually, you can write to her directly,’ George put in. ‘Address it to Room Forty-Seven, The Foreign Office.’
‘Is that where she is? Working for the Foreign Office?’
George hesitated, but all he would say was, ‘They’ll forward any letters. You can tell your family to write to her at that address too.’
‘“Forward it”? Oh no . . .’ Daisy’s heart began to beat faster. Surely, surely Pips hadn’t gone abroad on some secret mission. She swallowed hard and her voice was a little unsteady as she asked, ‘Please be honest about one thing – that’s all I ask. Is she in danger?’
George stared at her. ‘No, Daisy, she is not. I give you my word. More than that, I can’t tell you.’
‘Darling,’ Milly reached across the table to touch her hand, ‘they’d tell you if they could. You must trust them, but George wouldn’t let his beloved Pips be in any danger, you must know that.’
Daisy’s voice was husky as she said, ‘Yes, of course I do. But – you know what Aunty Pips is like. Maybe she’s doing something that he couldn’t stop. I mean – she hasn’t gone back to France, has she?’
George’s shake of the head was definite. ‘No, she hasn’t. I can promise you that.’
‘But – but what am I to tell them back home?’
‘I’d planned to tell them myself,’ George said. ‘In fact, Paul, if you can hold the fort at the office, I’ll go back with Daisy on Monday and see them myself. It’s hardly fair to leave it to her.’
Daisy laughed. ‘Well, I can’t tell them much, Uncle George, can I? And you know what Granny is like. She’ll wheedle it out of you.’
George’s face was solemn as he said, ‘Not this time, Daisy.’