By the beginning of 1939 Kate was flying almost every day. Her new boss, Mr Jennison, was producing components for the rapidly expanding aviation industry, and he or one of his managers seemed to have meetings with aeroplane manufacturers or Ministry officials every day. Once he had judged Kate's skill, he bought a Blackburn Seagrave, saying that this four-seater two-engine plane was just the thing for when more than one person needed to go to a meeting.
'We can also use it on occasion for delivery of urgently needed parts,' he said, chuckling. 'You won't object to a seatful of silent passengers, will you Kate?'
She grinned. 'Be a change, sir. Sometimes I can hardly hear the engine. Mr Wood seems to have a great fascination with the speaking tube, and can't leave it alone.'
She'd gained in confidence and had no doubt of her ability to master this larger machine. After a demonstration flight she happily flew it back to the home airfield close by the factory.
Life here in Lincoln was good, apart from missing Robert, but she did her best to thrust all thoughts of him out of her mind. She was doing a job she loved, was paid well enough to have sent to him, via Maggie, the rest of what she owed him for flying lessons, and she saw Maggie frequently.
She often had to fly to Coventry, for many of the car factories had been converted to producing aeroplanes for what everyone except, she thought, Mr Chamberlain, was certain would be war. He might have agreed with Adolf Hitler three months earlier not to go to war over Czechoslovakia, but most people now considered the Germans would not be content with what they already had. 'Peace in our time' contrasted oddly with Government plans for what to do in case of war, and their proposed air raid shelters.
Whenever there was time on these trips to Coventry she was given permission to go and see Maggie, and she often met her during Maggie's dinner break. George told Maggie to enjoy these meetings, not to hurry back.
It was in January that Maggie told her Robert and Daphne were to be married.
'How do you know?' Kate asked, after a few moments when she struggled to stay calm. She had no right to feel betrayed, aggrieved. She'd had her chance and refused him. If he could be happy with Daphne she ought to be unselfish and wish him well.
'I see the Brum papers occasionally, and there was a photo of some big dance. It said Mr Robert Manning and his fiancée, Miss Daphne Carstairs. It was a good photo of him, and Daphne looked so grand. She's grown up. Not so much of a tomboy as she used to be.'
'Did it say when they were getting married?' Kate asked after a moment.
'No. You could have had him, Kate. He'd not have held anything against you, once he'd known the facts.'
'It's too late now. He didn't take long to find consolation, did he?' she said, not quite able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 'Have you heard anything about Sid? Won't Sam tell you where he is?'
Maggie shook her head. 'All he'll say is the lad's OK. But how can he be, kept away from us all? He promised I could see him, but now he says his pals won't agree.'
Kate had to leave then, to fly her boss back home. They'd used the Tiger as he was the only passenger on this trip, and she kept reliving her flights with Robert. Had Daphne learned to fly? Was she still studying for her medical examinations? Surely she would not wish to continue when she was married to Robert?
None of these questions could be answered. Kate forced herself to think of other things. But that night, on her own in the small flat her employer had provided for her, she had to exercise the utmost control not to sink into self-pity.
*
Daphne had insisted on an Easter wedding, to give herself time to collect a trousseau as magnificent as that Stella had been given. She had also refused to give up her medical studies. Some sense of caution, which she refused to admit to herself, made her want to keep them as a safeguard in case anything went wrong. Not that it would, of course. Robert would never let her down. If Kate had ever meant anything to him he'd abandoned her now. He must have done.
'But you won't be able to go on studying once you are married,' her mother said, exasperated. 'Robert won't permit it.'
'Who knows?' Daphne replied. 'If there's war everyone will be needed. Even if I'm not qualified the more I know the more useful I'll be, even if I only volunteer as a nurse.'
Deep down she was afraid, and she wanted to save something. She'd been furious when Robert had declined her mother's invitation to the garden party last June, especially when his mother had informed her that he had instead gone to an air display at Walsall. Kate was sure to be there, and she'd suffered agonies of jealousy. It had all turned out satisfactorily in the end though. A few weeks later he had reappeared in her life.
It had been romantic enough when Robert had suddenly begun to ask her out again, and after a few weeks proposed. It had all been as she'd imagined it, a soft moonlit night, after dinner on the terrace of a waterside restaurant in Stratford on Avon. He'd taken her for a walk along the bank, gone down on one knee, and asked her to marry him. Then he'd produced a magnificent diamond solitaire ring, and slid it on her finger, saying she had made him the happiest of men.
It hadn't seemed real. She tried to tell herself that was because she had waited for so long, and almost despaired of it ever happening. Robert had not been as romantic as she'd expected, somehow. He'd only kissed her that evening, once, when he'd given her the ring. She told herself he was a gentleman, and they didn't treat decent girls to displays of passion before marriage. To herself she admitted she would have welcomed more affection instead of his punctilious politeness. But it was less than a month to the wedding now. She was beginning to dare to look forward to afterwards, when surely his reserve would be banished.
Robert never mentioned Kate, and Daphne didn't dare ask. He still kept his Tiger Moth at Walsall, and every time she knew he was going there she had visions of him and Kate flying together. Occasionally she tormented herself with thoughts of Robert setting Kate up as his mistress, and marrying her to divert suspicion. But he was honourable. Surely he would not do that.
They were going out that evening, to some civic banquet, and she had a new evening dress. It was a more stately affair than she'd ever had before, suitable for the wife of a prominent businessman. Of white brocade embroidered with gold thread, with matching gold kid sandals and a pair of gold earrings which had been a present from Robert, she felt almost regal. Robert was calling at six, for there was a reception beforehand, and she was waiting in the drawing room a few minutes beforehand when the telephone shrilled.
Daphne ignored it. Most telephone calls were for her father, and sure enough, she heard the maid tap at his study door and his heavy tread across the hall as he went to answer it.
She glanced at her watch. Robert was always punctual, he'd be here any moment.
Five minutes went by, and her father was still talking on the telephone. Then his voice ceased, and she heard his steps again. They were coming towards the drawing room and Daphne felt a frisson of fear. What had happened?
Mr Carstairs looked solemn as he came in. 'Where's your mother?' he asked, and Daphne let out the breath she'd been holding.
'Upstairs, changing for dinner,' Daphne said. 'Why, was that call for her?'
'No. Yes, in a way. I'll go up and speak to her.'
He left the room hurriedly, and Daphne glanced again at her watch. Five minutes past six. Where was Robert? She was beginning to be afraid. Then, after several more minutes her parents entered the room, and her mother, wearing a dressing gown and with her hair awry, came straight towards her, holding out her hands.
'Daphne, oh my dear, I'm so sorry!'
'Mother, what is it? It's Robert, isn't it? What's happened? Has he crashed his aeroplane? Tell me!'
'No, not Robert, dear, he's quite all right. It's his father. He was taken ill again this afternoon, and I'm afraid he died.'
'Dead? Mr Manning dead?' Daphne could not take it in.
'That was Robert, telephoning from the hospital,' her father said gruffly. 'They took him there, but he died on the way. Another massive heart attack, they think. He asked me to give you his apologies.'
'I do wish you'd married at Christmas,' Mrs Carstairs said with a sigh. 'Now we'll have to cancel everything.'
'Cancel? Cancel my wedding?' Daphne asked, suddenly realising what her mother had said.
'Of course, dear, we have to show respect. Maybe we could have a quiet one next Christmas, though we really ought to wait a year.'
Struggling to restrain her tears of fury and despair Daphne stood up and almost ran from the room, shrugging aside her father's restraining hand as she passed him. She'd known something dreadful would happen! How could Mr Manning have chosen now to die!
*
'Charles Duggan is capable or running the factory as well as I am, Mother,' Robert repeated.
'Your father will be turning in his grave to hear you say that!'
Robert forbore to ask how his father, dead these three months, could hear anything. His mother had been devastated by Mr Manning's death, despite the years of ill health that had preceded it. 'There is going to be a war, and Father would want me to do my bit. Charles is too old for active service, and he's been with us for over twenty years, since he came out of the army in 1918.'
'And what about me? You mean to leave me alone?'
He restrained his impatience. 'Your sister has come to live with you, and she can be with you all the time. Even if I came back to live here it would be only an hour or so I could spare each evening, there is so much to be done.'
'So you can't be spared!'
'It's pointless arguing any longer. I mean to join the RAF as soon as they will have me. They need as many pilots as possible, and I can, I hope, be employed training them. If I do, I'll be at Tern Hill, and able to get home as frequently as duties allow.'
She dissolved into ugly sobbing, and Robert, hardening his heart, left the room. Now he had better go and tell Daphne of his decision.
Daphne was listlessly reading a medical text book when he was shown into the Carstairs' drawing room. She smiled at him a little warily. Having failed to persuade him into agreeing to a quiet wedding six months after the death of his father, she had been unusually subdued. He was afraid she had realised he did not love her. He felt trapped. He'd only proposed to her in order to please his father, and the plan had worked so far as that was concerned. Almost the last words his father had spoken, the morning before his last and fatal attack, had been how proud he would be to hold his grandchildren in his arms.
Robert suspected he was not being totally honest with himself when he decided to enlist before they could be married. He knew he was committed to Daphne, indeed it would be shameful to let her down, but if war came, and it looked more and more likely that summer, the wedding could justifiably be delayed. He didn't allow himself to think further than that, to imagine what might happen to prevent it altogether.
'Daphne, I'm glad to have found you alone,' he began. 'I came to let you know I have decided to join the RAF as soon as possible.'
'Before we can be married?' she asked.
'We really cannot marry until next Easter,' he said, trying to sound calm. 'If war comes, it's likely to be well before then, and we need to be prepared. I have something to offer, I can train pilots.'
'You don't want to marry me, do you?' Daphne asked, and for a crazy moment Robert was tempted to tell her the truth. But she looked so unhappy he could not bring himself to do so. It would be dishonourable, it would no doubt hurt her, if she regarded it as a rejection. And there was no point in hurting Daphne since he still could not have Kate.
'Not yet,' he said gently. 'It wouldn't be seemly, and with war coming who knows what might happen. It would be unfair to you, to both of us, if we had to be separated for months just after we married.'
Daphne turned her face away. 'Please go, Robert. You'll let me know when you go? And write to me?'
'Of course.'
Thankfully he escaped. He had already contacted the recruiting office, and expected to be called on any time in the next few weeks. Meanwhile, he must make arrangements for his Tiger to be stored. He'd have neither the time nor the inclination to fly it for many months to come, however long the war lasted.
*
On a rare weekend off Kate went to Coventry and stayed with Sheila. There was no room in Maggie's cramped room, but Sheila had offered her the use of the sofa in her parlour.
'If you don't mind sleeping curled up, you're welcome to it any time. I know Maggie likes to see you, but dinnertime meetings aren't very satisfactory.'
'I don't know what she'd have done without you and George,' Kate said, helping Sheila to peel potatoes on Saturday morning. 'Between them Sam and Hattie would have driven her mad. What's that in the garden,' she added, pointing to the hump at the far end of the plot.
'It's our air raid shelter. George insisted we had one. He says Coventry could be a target, there are so many factories here. Want to see it?'
Kate shook her head. 'I've seen pictures. I just haven't seen any covered with earth like that. What will Maggie do? They don't have a garden big enough.'
'There are communal ones. When all the kids are at school in September I shall join something to help out. I don't know what yet, but there's bound to be lots needed. I might even go and work school hours for George.'
'Aren't they talking about sending the children out into the country?'
'Only from the central areas. Maggie's kids could go, but she doesn't want to be parted from them. Understandable, when she still doesn't know what's happened to Sid.'
'Perhaps Sam will make the men let him come home,' Kate said, but without much conviction. Sam had never been reliable, and whenever she saw him now she thought he'd got meaner and vicious rather than just weak.
'I'm thinking of going myself, and I could take Maggie's kids too. But until it actually starts, there's no point in making plans.'
Maggie came in then, and Kate was shocked at how drawn she looked. She seemed at least ten years older, and her hair had begun to go grey. She gave Kate a big smile, though, and hugged her.
'You're looking great, love. Being in the open air all day seems to suit you. Got plenty of warm clothes?'
Kate nodded. 'And I need so many layers in the winter I'm almost too fat to get into the cockpit.'
Jeannie came in then with Harry, George's eldest son who was a year older. She was twelve now, growing into a pretty girl who looked very like Maggie. She smiled shyly at Kate, and she and Harry began to ask her questions.
'What's it like up there? Does it look like a map? I like geography best at school.'
Kate tried to explain. 'One day, perhaps, I might be able to take you up with me. Would you like that?'
Jeannie smiled and bit her lip. 'I'd be frightened, I think.'
'Of course you wouldn't. Tell me about school.'
Jeannie, losing her shyness, chattered away until Sheila called them to the table. Then they all wanted to know how Kate was doing.
'I expect you'll be flying air liners next,' George said. 'Though no doubt they'll stop civilian flying soon.'
'I thought about joining the Women's Auxiliary Air Force,' Kate said, 'but I don't think they allow the women to fly RAF planes. I don't want to be there just in an office, or even helping to service the planes. Since I can fly, I want to use that.'
They talked the whole weekend, sometimes all the grown ups apart from Hattie, who seemed to live in a world of her own, sometimes just Kate and Maggie. For the first time Maggie spoke in more detail of the man who had fathered Kate and then deserted her.
'You came from officer stock, on his side at least,' she said, chuckling. 'Even if he was a scoundrel.'
'Do you ever regret him?' Kate asked, curious.
'Yes, at times. He was good company. And apart from my kids I wish I'd never set eyes on Sam Pritchard!'
Kate sighed. 'Does it ever work out? Being in love, I mean? There always seem to be so many obstacles! I think Phyllis and Frank are the only couple I know who are happy together, and have no problems!'
*
Kate had a week off before she joined the Air Transport Auxiliary. Mr Jennison had, reluctantly, accepted her decision to leave.
'We'll miss you, Miss Martins,' he said when she approached him. 'Even if we are likely to be doing less flying now war has begun, I'd have found you other tasks, until we are back to normal.'
'I don't think we'll be back to normal for a long time,' Kate said. 'And I must do something to help. I'd rather go where my flying can be useful than have to work in a munitions factory or cook in a soldier's canteen!'
She stayed with Sheila, whose lodgers had departed the moment war was declared, saying they didn't feel safe so close to a big town.
'The husband was liable for conscription soon, I expect, anyway, and she wanted to be near her family in Derbyshire,' Sheila explained. 'I'm tempted to go into the country as well, but George needs me here.'
'He's fire-watching at night, is he?'
'Yes, at the factory. And he helps lots of other voluntary groups. We all do our bit. Even Jeannie and my Harry have started to learn first aid, and George bought them both bikes. He said it would keep them out of mischief if they thought they might be useful to take messages in an emergency.'
'It's odd without lights. I've been used to them all my life, street lights and omnibuses and trams.'
'They've caused a lot of accidents, being driven without lights,' Sheila said. 'But your new job, what is it you'll be doing?'
'The factories are turning out so many aeroplanes, and they need pilots to move them from the factories to the RAF airfields. It used to be the Civilian Air Guard, but they've given it another name. They've recruited some women like me, and pilots from the Great War who are too old to join up this time.'
'But, Kate, don't you have to have instructions on how to fly the planes? Aren't they all different?'
Kate laughed. 'That could be a problem! I shall soon find out. I imagine most of the controls are similar, but they will be different sizes, higher up off the ground, and so on. Thank goodness I've had some experience with a bigger plane. However, I think I'll be flying Moths to begin with.'
Maggie came in then and wanted to know all about it. When she'd explained Kate demanded what news, if any, she had.
'I think Sam might be scarpering soon,' she said. 'One of his pals has already gone back to Ireland, said he didn't want to get caught in an a war that was none of his affair.'
'Sam's not Irish,' Kate said. 'How can he go?'
'Because he's a coward! He's gone forty, but he won't believe they'll not want him in the army sooner or later. I think he's afraid of the bombing, really. He says Coventry's bound to be a target with all the factories making aeroplanes and parts.'
'For once he could be right. But Maggie, if he goes, what about the children?'
'He won't take them,' Maggie said. 'They'd be too much trouble. But the devil still won't tell me where Sid is.'
'Well, if he goes, you must all come back here. You'd be safer than near the centre.'
Maggie gave her a tired smile. 'Thanks, Sheila. You're a real good friend.'
'Don't you want to get them away, evacuated?' Kate said. 'They'd be safer in the country.'
'I couldn't bear to lose them,' Maggie said. 'It's bad enough not having Sid. Besides, Jeannie says she'd not go, she'd run away and come back here. She would, too, and if she's not with the others they'd feel so lost. Besides, they'll soon have the shelters dug at the schools, and they can go back to school.'
'I hear some children have come back already,' Sheila said. 'There's been no bombing yet.'
'Maybe the barrage balloons will keep them away. They did look odd, when I came in on the train.'
'More likely to tell them Germans where we are,' Maggie said. 'Come on, kids, time we were on our way,' she said, picking up her gas mask. 'It takes a while to walk, but I don't like to use the trams and buses,' she explained to Kate. 'See you tomorrow.'
*
Robert rubbed his eyes as he walked back to the office in the dawn light. In six months of war there had been relatively little activity in the air, though several Wellingon bombers had been shot down in raids over Germany. On the ground and at sea it was different, the Germans had been advancing on several fronts. It had been the loss of a dozen Wellingtons a week before Christmas, because of a new German radar device, that had changed the tactics to concentrate on night raids. He now spent all the hours of darkness training pilots in night-flying techniques, though the severe weather in January, when the Thames had frozen for the first time in just over fifty years, had restricted the hours they could fly.
By the time he had completed the log and drunk a cup of weak tea, he was longing for his bed. He went out again into the cold morning, shivering even in his thick jacket at the biting north wind, and looked up as he heard the drone of a plane coming in to land. More training aircraft, he hoped. They needed them. At least some of the Dominions were sending airmen to fight, and they had increased their production of aircraft too.
A Tiger was approaching from the south, preparing to land, and then, behind it, slightly to one side, he saw a much heavier and faster twin-engined plane, a Whitley, he thought, with one engine belching smoke and flames.
It was rapidly overhauling the Tiger, and Robert watched in dismay as the two aeroplanes seemed to be on a collision course. Had the Tiger pilot seen the danger?
Then, at almost the last moment the Tiger banked steeply and swerved away, at the same time gaining height, so that the damaged Whitley had a clear run for landing. The smoke was now thick and black, and for a few seconds Robert lost sight of the Tiger which was enveloped in the black cloud. Would it become impossible to control in the swirling air currents?
He barely noticed the Whitley landing, and the fire crew going into action. He was more concerned with the Tiger, for it was still his favourite aeroplane, and he hated to see any of them damaged, apart from the danger to the pilot if he lost control and crashed to the ground.
He breathed a sigh of relief as the Tiger, wobbling furiously while steering clear of the Whitley and the fire fighters, regained equilibrium and after doing a circle at a greater height, came down to land in the rough grass at the edge of the field, bouncing and bumping almost to a halt, and then taxiing across to near the hangars, still keeping well away from the activity on the runway.
It came to a halt fifty yards from him, and he watched as the pilot clambered out, and dropped lightly to the ground. He glanced round. The usual ground crew were occupied with the Whitley, so he walked across to the Tiger.
'That was a great bit of flying,' he said to the pilot's back. 'I thought you'd have turned turtle at least.'
The pilot's head jerked upright, and the shoulders stiffened. Then the pilot turned round slowly and dragged off the concealing helmet.
'I'm glad my instructor approves.'
'Kate? Kate, is it really you? I'm not dreaming? What the devil are you doing?'
'Getting out of the way of burning bombers. Good morning, Robert. I didn't expect to see you here.'
Robert pulled himself together. 'ATA?' he asked, and Kate nodded, unsmiling.
She was thinner of face, and her hair had been cropped short, but she was the same, his Kate. No, not his, he reminded himself. She was married to a butcher who worked in the Bull Ring, and probably living with John Wilson, her lover.
He tried to be calm and practical. 'Come into the mess, we can provide some tea and breakfast.'
'I'd better check in first, get a receipt. Then I ought to be catching the train. I have an hour to spare to see Maggie in Coventry before I go back to the pool.'
'This way.' They began to walk towards the office. 'I'll take you to the station. Kate, why did you leave without telling me?'
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. 'I thought it was for the best. Did you get the rest of the money for my lessons? I asked Maggie to send you postal orders.'
'Damn the money! Oh, I beg your pardon. Kate, why did you run away? I heard you'd gone to Lincolnshire. Did you go to John Wilson?'
*
Kate had always known she might meet Robert at one of the RAF airfields, when she was delivering planes. She'd thought she was prepared, could be cool and calm, treat him as she did the other men she worked with or met during her missions. At the first sound of his voice she knew how badly mistaken she had been.
She had been shaken by the near-collision with the stricken Whitley, it was that which made her tremble, she told herself. It wasn't that, however, which had made her want to turn and throw herself into Robert's arms. She'd exercised the greatest control in speaking calmly, and prayed he would follow her lead. Instead he'd begun to ask questions, questions she could not answer.
'I left because I was offered a job flying,' she said now.
'In Lincolnshire? But that's where John Wilson lives.'
'Is it?' How did he know about John Wilson, she was thinking. What else did he know about her? Who could have told him? Surely Maggie never would, even if he'd been to Coventry to try and discover where she was.
'Robert!' It was a cry of distress. 'It's no use! Please, leave me alone. I'll always be grateful to you for teaching me to fly, and now I'm doing a job I love, a useful job. Leave me in peace to live how I choose.'
When she looked up at him she could have wept at the anguish in his eyes, but she forced herself not to relent. He might think he loved her, but she was not the sort of girl who could support him. He was important, he ran a large business, and she was a girl from a poverty-stricken background, a bastard, a fool who had disgraced herself. And, she suddenly recalled, he was engaged to be married to someone else.
'How is Daphne?' she asked before she could consider the implications of mentioning her.
'Daphne?' It seemed for a moment that he didn't understand, had never known anyone of that name. Then he rallied. 'Still at the University,' he said, his tone bleak.
'Are you married yet?' It made no difference to her, but she had to know.
'Married? Not yet. It was to have been last year, but my father died, so it was postponed. Then there was the war.'
'Your father? Oh, Robert, I'm so sorry. But who's running the business if you're here? And what are you doing here?'
'So many questions.' He had recovered his poise, and grinned at her in the old, familiar way which made her heart turn over with longing. 'It was rather sudden, when my father had his last heart attack, just a year ago. He'd been ill before, though, so it was not entirely unexpected. I have a very competent manager for the factory, and I decided I could be more use training some of the pilots we desperately need. My mother has shut up the house and retreated to the wilds of Yorkshire with her sister. She is terrified at the idea of bombs falling in Birmingham. Now, sign in. I'll wait for you and take you to the Mess for breakfast. I'd like to hear how the ATA are managing. If things get any worse we will be needing a good many more aeroplanes than we have at present.'
To Kate's relief they spent the rest of the time, until Robert waved her off on the train back to base, talking about the war and the new aeroplanes, the bombers and fighters, which were being built. When she voiced her apprehension that soon she would be flying Halifaxes and Spitfires from their production lines to the RAF bases, he laughed and reassured her.
'I've flown them, and so long as you remember which aeroplane you're in you can manage.'
'I hope so. At least the information they give us is so sparse it's easy to memorise. Just a page of reminders, sometimes.'
She sat back in her seat as the train pulled out of the station, and closed her eyes. It had been far worse than she'd imagined. Somehow, during the previous year and a half, she'd persuaded herself she could be happy without Robert, would in time forget him, and the pain of loving him while being unable to admit it would diminish. It hadn't. Next time they met, though, she'd be better prepared. He'd probably be married by then. He hadn't said what his plans were, but surely they would not delay any wedding for much more than a year after his father's death? It would soon be Easter, a favourite time for weddings, and if he could obtain leave, if the conditions of the war did not make leave impossible, he and Daphne would soon be married. Robert would be even further out of reach than ever before.
*
Maggie looked round the bedroom with a sense of relief. They'd be safer here than in the more crowded streets of Spons End. She couldn't stop smiling. She hung up the last of her clothes, smoothed the eiderdowns on the two single beds, coverings which surely would not be needed now, at the end of June, and went downstairs.
Sheila looked up from where she was ironing. 'Settled in?'
Maggie nodded. 'It's as though a huge weight has gone. When they called up men in their twenties, and then we had rationing, Sam began to get twitchy. That raid on Tuesday finished him, and his pals. They couldn't leave fast enough.'
'And the bombs didn't even hit Coventry, just the aerodrome at Ansty.' Sheila put her iron to heat and picked up the other one, spitting on it to test whether it was hot enough.
'He was scared of the sirens. Oh, Sheila, how thankful I am that you're here to take us in. Even though we'd have had the house to ourselves once the men left, it would always have been a reminder.'
'Put the kettle on, Maggie. I'm ready for a cuppa. There's something I need to talk about.'
A few minutes later they were sitting at the table. Maggie waited and watched Sheila toying with her spoon as she stirred the sugarless tea. Then Sheila looked up and shrugged.
'George is getting more persistent. He wants me to go and take a cottage somewhere well away from Coventry. He's sure it will be a target, and we don't seem to be able to stop the bombers. Norway, Holland, Belgium, and now France. We might be invaded next.'
'Then being in a country cottage won't help,' Maggie said. 'We won't let the Nazis in. We've got Churchill in charge now.'
'Thank goodness. But George says they'll bomb us first, try to frighten us into surrender. He wants me and the kids safe. I'd take Hattie as well. She's a lot easier to manage now, and she's a real help with the kids.'
Maggie was silent, thinking through all the implications. 'If you go, Sheila, I can't stay here. But I don't want that to stop you! You must go if you think that best.'
Sheila smiled at her. 'It would be easier than constant arguments! And I could take your children too. You could come with me.'
Maggie shook her head. 'There's so much to do, I'd feel as though I was deserting if I left the factory. I'd be grateful if you'd take the kids, but that would make it even worse. What would people say if George and I were living here on our own? I could rent a room nearby, though.'
'Maggie, don't be daft! Why pay out good money when you can stay here? You're like my sister, and I'd trust you and George to behave, if that's what you're afraid of. It doesn't matter a toss what other people say.'
'It may not to you,' Maggie began, but before she could finish there was a tentative knock on the kitchen door.
'Come in,' Sheila called, and they both turned to look at the door when nothing happened.
Maggie, who was nearest, got up to open it. Outside, backed away from the door, holding his arm across his face, his coat badly torn, his feet bare, stood Sid.
'Mom? Oh Mom!' he cried and flung himself at her, almost knocking her over with the force of his rush.
'Sid? Is it really you? How did yer get here? Who brought you? How are you? Did those devils hurt yer?'
Sid was crying, heaving deep, racking sobs. Maggie hugged him to her, and she was weeping too.
'Come and sit down,' Sheila said, and somehow Maggie stumbled to a chair, Sid clinging to her as if he'd never again let her go. Sheila cut slices from a loaf, spread them with jam, and placed them and a glass of milk in front of Sid. He began to wolf them down, and at last he was calm enough to tell them the details.
'They kept me and Ronnie in a room at the top of the house we was in,' he said. 'The window was boarded up, and all we could see out the cracks was more houses. Then they took Ronnie away. Where is he, Mom?'
'It's all right, love, he came back, they brought him home, and he's at school. Were yer kept there all the time?'
Sid shook his head. 'They fetched me down daytimes, but I was never let out. They made me pack ciggies from big boxes inter small packets. I think they sold 'em cheap in pubs.'
'Stolen, I expect,' Sheila said. 'How did you get away?'
'They went, one day. I was all on me own, an' I climbed outta window. It was Sparkbrook. I asked, and they showed me which way ter walk ter get 'ere.'
'You walked? All that way?'
'I dain't 'ave no money,' he said indignantly, and Maggie hugged him tightly.
'Course you didn't. But it's a long way. It must have taken you days. What did you eat?'
'People in cottages give me things,' he said. 'I slept in haystacks two nights. Me feet 'ad got soft, and me shoes dain't fit no longer, so I got tired.'
'We must get a doctor to check him over,' Sheila said briskly. 'I'll go now, while you give him a bath.'
*
Robert stood watching his latest pupil, Ronald Frant, take the Tiger Moth on his first solo flight. He hadn't been fully convinced the lad was up to it, but the pressure to turn out qualified pilots as fast as possible was intense.
'Let him go,' his commander had advised. 'Nothing gives a fellow confidence more than being on his own.'
The take-off had been good, and Frant flew round the airfield keeping the Tiger steady. Perhaps his fears had been unnecessary, Robert decided. He was becoming more of a worrier, and part of it, he knew, was that he wanted to be away from here. He was an experienced pilot, more so than most of the ones now flying the RAF's bombers. He desperately wanted to join those seeking revenge on the Luftwaffe who had been creating such havoc attacking shipping convoys.
Only two nights before, less than two weeks after the RAF had shot down dozens of German planes in the biggest raid yet, the Germans had been back and had attacked several towns. They seemed to have endless weapons.
His musings were cut short as he saw Frant's Tiger losing height as it approached the runway.
'He's too low, he won't clear the hedge!' he exclaimed, and began to run towards the far side of the field.
The Tiger's wingtip touched the hedge and, so slowly that Robert covered a great deal of the distance still between them, twisted round and crashed to the ground.
One wing crumpled and the fuselage came to rest on its side. Robert was within twenty yards, when he was halted by a sudden whoosh of sound and heat as the engine caught fire. It spread rapidly to the flimsy struts and fabric, and set part of the hedge ablaze with a suddenness so unexpected he was momentarily confused.
Then he dashed forwards and bent down to reach into the cockpit. Frant seemed unconscious, and Robert had a struggle to release the straps. He began to haul the pilot out of the seat, flames licking at his hands and the crackling noise making it impossible to hear anything else.
It seemed ages before he freed Frant and dragged him clear. Heaving him up onto his shoulder, Robert staggered away from the carnage. A sudden explosion behind him threw him forward, and the last thing he knew was an excruciating pain in his left leg.
***