Chapter Twenty-Five

“Anyone seen my slip?” Mary called as she turned her room upside down, again.

Doris and Betty both poked their heads around the corner of their doors, in the dual act of doing up their uniform jackets. “When did you last see it?” Doris asked.

“It’s not my only one,” Mary mumbled from the depths of her chest of drawers. “But it’s my favorite one.”

“What’s your favorite one?” Tom asked, as his head popped up on the stairs, causing Mary to squeak and half-close her bedroom door. “Oops, sorry, Mary,” he said, turning a little red.

“She’s lost her slip,” Betty explained.

“Her favorite,” Doris added.

Tom nodded, not really understanding, as he wasn’t party to the various items of clothing which had gone missing over the last year or so, including his wife’s best bra. “Is the bathroom free?” he asked, holding up his shaving kit.

“Help yourself,” Betty told him. Going up on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll be gone by the time you’ve finished. Drop Penny’s key off at Jane’s office when you’re ready, will you?”

Tom placed his towel and kit on the floor and surprised Betty by giving her a big hug. “Thank you again for a wonderful Christmas, Betty. I hope I wasn’t too much of a misery-guts?”

As he gave Mary and Doris each a quick hug, Betty told him, “So long as you’ve sorted things out with that lovely wife of yours.”

Turning back to Betty, he took her hand. “I promise. She’s put me right—we’ll be okay.”

“You’d better!” Doris told him, though the grin upon her face was enough to show him she was joking.

Picking up his things, he looked over the small band of fellow pilots and felt his chest swell with pride. “You lot be careful up there, okay?”

“We promise,” Mary volunteered for the group.

****

Penny flopped down onto the seat, her thoughts in turmoil, and suddenly everything being said to her seemed to be as if it were coming down a long tunnel. She felt the need to put her head between her legs as her vision began to darken at the sides. With an extreme effort, she fought off the impulse to pass out, beads of sweat breaking out upon her forehead. A hand—she didn’t know nor care whose—pressed a glass of water into her hand as she felt her heart rate returning to normal. The water went down—nectar couldn’t have been more welcome.

“Penny?” A man’s voice, possibly her husband’s, spoke. “Penny!”

Over and over it repeated until her hands flew to her temples and she screamed out, “Who the hell else would it be?”

As her vision cleared, she focused upon the form of Doctor Raymond Barnes, who stood leaning against the medical center’s wall. He appeared to be twisting his stethoscope between his hands and regarding her with a worried expression.

“Miss Blake,” he started to say and stopped at an annoyed cough from Tom. “Sorry. Mrs. Alsop, can you hear me now? How are you feeling?”

She found Tom holding one of her hands and, if it were possible, looking even more worried than the doctor. Had her reaction been that bad? Tom opened his mouth, but she squeezed his hand to forestall him, answering, “Pregnant. I’m feeling…pregnant.”

Tom seemed to be searching her face, trying to gauge how she felt about that feeling. To give herself some thinking time, she squeezed his hand and mustered up a small smile. How did she feel? Well, confused, for one, but was she happy? Her husband certainly appeared to be happy, no matter how hard he was trying to hold it in, obviously waiting for her reaction before sharing his. Taking her hand back, she laid it with her other one across her belly, stroking her stomach, wondering if she could feel some connection to the life growing inside her. Closing her eyes, she tried and tried, yet felt no different. Perhaps it would come later? Yes, of course. The love had to come later.

Deciding she couldn’t put off speaking any longer, Penny opened her eyes and searched out those of her husband. He nodded at her in encouragement. “Penny?”

“I’m fine,” she told him and then, when he didn’t react, she went for, “We’re having a baby!” with more enthusiasm in her voice. At hearing this, he threw his arms around her.

“Let’s go find Jane,” he told her, his head next to her ear.

Only the good doctor, who she’d trust not to say anything, could see how her face had fallen upon hearing those words. When would she fly again?

****

“How’s Celia?” Jane asked tentatively, peering from the open flight line hut’s door over to where Penny sat at Betty’s desk.

Jane had moved it herself so her friend would have the best view of the airfield she could. This wasn’t turning out to be the best idea she’d ever had. Since she’d come in and been informed what she would be doing, as Betty was now back flying full time and her job was vacant, she’d developed a frown, even deeper than the one she’d been wearing since she’d waved her husband off the previous morning. When the first Anson of the morning took off with Betty at the controls, her face had, if it were possible, become even more morose. If it would help, Jane thought, she’d suggest moving the desk to somewhere Penny wouldn’t be able to see the aircraft take off and land. She didn’t think it would.

When she failed to get a reply, Jane coughed, loudly, and tried again. “Penny! How’s Celia?”

Finally, Penny looked up, and Jane could see the effort it took for her to muster a small smile. She put down the pen she’d been using to write in a log book. “I’m sorry, Jane, I’m being rude. Celia, yes.” Penny scratched her head before looking up once more. “She’s much better now. I think she’s even looking forward to going back to school. Says she wants to give her friend Wilks what for.” She laughed, a small laugh but a real one. “Well, she didn’t quite use those words, but I’ve told her off for using bad language, and I don’t want to get told off by you for repeating what she really said.”

This was the first time Jane had heard Penny laugh since the possibility she might be pregnant arose. The thought wasn’t nice, and Jane did her best to put it to the back of her mind. Her friend needed her support now more than ever.

Since taking command at Hamble, Jane had hardly been able to do any flying. Only by seeing how Penny was reacting now did she realize how much she missed it—she felt like someone had punched her in the teeth. Swallowing hard to try and get rid of the bad taste in her mouth, Jane managed to say, “Sounds like she’s getting better.”

Penny nodded, and Jane noticed she couldn’t help but look out through the window before replying, “I phoned her school earlier to explain why she wasn’t back. The headmistress—awfully nice lady, though perhaps a little on the batty side—understood and is going to get the school nurse to do her best to check if any of the other girls are ill.”

“Big job!” Jane commented.

“I certainly don’t envy her,” Penny agreed. “I think Celia should be well enough by tomorrow for me to fly her back.”

Jane’s head jerked up, and as she did so she saw the expression on Penny’s face. Her friend had just realized what she proposed. Jane was about to open her mouth, though without knowing what she was going to say, when there came the roar of aero engines much bigger than those of the largest aircraft usually at the airfield, their own Avro Anson taxies.

“What the hell’s that?” Penny half-shouted, looking out the window, then turning back, a wide-eyed look upon her face, to announce, “It’s a Yank C47! I’m not certain, Jane, but if I recall their markings right, it’s from Frank’s group.”

Curious to beat all else, both women left the relative warmth of the hut and headed toward the hard standing where the twin-engined transport aircraft would stop its taxiing. Hands over their ears, they waited for the engines to shut down and then a minute more for the rear door to open. Out jumped a captain in the USAAF. As he landed, he waved a hand in their direction, obviously having noticed them.

“Do you recognize him?” Jane asked Penny.

Penny waited until their visitor was a little nearer. Only when he was merely ten yards away did a bell go off in her head, and she nodded. “I think it’s First Lieutenant Pete Gabrowski—well, now, a captain—and I’ve probably completely messed up his surname, Jane. He flies with your Frank, I think.”

“Ma’am,” the captain said with a touch to his cap, having obviously heard what Penny said. “And you pronounced it just fine.” He held out his hand to Jane first, and his demeanor immediately gathered a dark aura. This didn’t go unnoticed by either woman. “I’m really sorry I’m not here to deliver ice cream this time, Ms. Howell,” he told her, shaking his head.

“Tell me,” Jane ordered without preamble, a sinking feeling in her stomach, correctly surmising the young man had come to see her.

Pete glanced around before refocusing on Jane. Even with no one else within hearing range, the ground crew having chocked up the C47 and then been waved off by another American standing in the transport’s open door, he asked, “Is there somewhere more…private, where we can speak?”

Jane shook her head. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Penny. I trust her with my life.” Penny opened and closed her mouth, not quite knowing what she could say to such a moving statement.

“If you’re sure,” he agreed after a moment. He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a crumpled envelope, turning it over and over in his hands before finally, and quite reluctantly, handing it over into Jane’s slightly shaking hands. This task done, he looked her in the eye, bowed his head slightly, and told her, it seemed all in one breath, “I’m very sorry I wasn’t able to deliver this news before now. We only got back from—overseas—yesterday, and they kept us busy late into last night, or I would have called. But I wanted to do this in person. I’m really, really sorry. Jane, Frank’s plane was shot down on the twenty-third.” He held up a hand as Penny opened her mouth to ask the obvious question. “No, I’m afraid there’s no question of survivors. His plane took a hit from anti-aircraft fire smack-bang in the cockpit.”

Jane didn’t appear to be on the verge of breaking down, though neither did it look like she could say anything in response.

“Thank you for coming to tell us in person, Pete,” Penny managed to say. “We understand it must be very difficult for you, losing someone who’s your friend. How are you doing?”

Pete shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through hair much longer than she’d seen on any serviceman for a long time. “Day to day, just taking it day to day.” He looked over his shoulder before turning back. “I’ve lost count of the friends I’ve lost, and I’m sure we’ll lose a few more before this hell is over.”

Jane must have been listening, as she nodded her head in what Penny assumed was agreement, before saying, “I’m sorry too, Pete, and as Penny says, you have my eternal thanks for taking the time to come and tell me in person. I will remember your kindness.”

“Will you and your companion stay for some tea?” Penny asked, not knowing if she wanted them to stay or not but slipping into typical British politeness mode.

“No, thanks.” Pete shook his head. “We have to get back. We’re not here for long, and there’s a lot to do before our—next job,” he finished.

Putting his cap onto his head, he snapped to attention, saluted Jane, and with an about-face, marched back to his plane.

Penny’s gaze followed the American as he boarded the transport. She watched as its engines turned on, and as it taxied out and finally took off. It wasn’t until it had disappeared from sight that she turned to speak to Jane, only Jane had disappeared.