Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Fitz wasn’t sure what she was expecting to happen once war had been declared. To begin with, essentially, nothing changed in her day-to-day life, but she felt on tenterhooks, as if she was waiting for something to happen. She just didn’t know what.
With Michael’s boarding school and, indeed, Fitz’s finishing school now ruled out, the new governess came in mid-September and largely, Fitz had nothing to do with her. Miss Winters was there for the sole purpose of teaching Michael. Fitz’s twenty-first birthday came and went in a very subdued manner. No frivolous party or extravagant meal. It hadn’t seemed right to celebrate her entrance into adulthood now the country was at war.
To keep herself busy and to do what she could to aid the war effort, Fitz had joined the Women’s Land Army and, much to her surprise, had earned some praise from Camilla. It wasn’t often Fitz managed to do something her stepmother approved of. Her father had been even more pleased when she had gone to work at a local farm owned by Jack Howard, whose son had been called up, with Fitz taking his place.
‘I thought you might end up in a different part of the country,’ said her father when she’d told him where she had been assigned. Personally, Fitz wouldn’t have minded a change of scenery, but she acknowledged there were advantages to being able to eat and sleep at her own home. She’d heard some of the land girls were having it quite rough, with not very comfortable digs and apparently one of the girls from Badcombe village was having to sleep in a hay loft.
For the most part, Fitz enjoyed her work on the farm where she spent her days driving the tractor and moving bales of hay about for the animal feeds. The winter saw an extremely hard frost which lasted months rather than weeks into 1940, making getting up before dawn most mornings quite a struggle.
Fitz had to cycle in the dark down to Jack Howard’s farm due to the blackout and on more than one occasion misjudged the roadside and ended up in a ditch or a hedge.
The warmer weather of spring, together with lighter mornings and evenings, couldn’t come too soon for Fitz. It was now mid-May, and Winston Churchill had been elected as the new prime minister to take over from Neville Chamberlain. When Fitz arrived at the farm, she could tell straight away that Jack was not in the best of spirits. His frown was as deep as the furrowed fields.
‘Morning, Jack,’ said Fitz.
‘If you say it is,’ came the reply which confirmed her assessment of his mood.
‘Is everything all right?’ she ventured, taking off her regulation issue land-girl coat. The cycle ride to the farm had already warmed her up.
‘No. I take it you haven’t heard the news?’
Fitz shook her head. ‘I went straight to bed last night.’ She had been so tired; she’d had her evening meal and taken herself upstairs foregoing her usual habit of sitting by the radio with her father to listen to the latest news on the war.
‘We’re pulling out of Dunkirk,’ said Jack. ‘We’re running from Hitler.’
‘Really?’ Fitz was surprised. From what she’d gathered from her father and, indeed, Jack, Winston Churchill was a no-nonsense fighting man and was determined to stand up to Hitler. ‘Why are we withdrawing?’
Jack tutted. ‘Underestimated the Jerries, didn’t he? Old Churchill.’
The Germans had invaded France the previous week and with little resistance from the British Army, they looked set to storm their way right through to Paris in a short space of time. And then, as Fitz had heard people in the village shop saying, Hitler would have his sights set on Britain.
Although concerned, Fitz hadn’t felt especially worried, and when she’d spoken to her father about it, he’d assured her that Britain would stand fast. She wondered now if her father had really believed that or was simply trying to protect her from the truth. It all sounded very real and not just village gossip.
‘What’s going to happen now?’ she asked, hearing the uncertainty in her voice.
‘Well, get our boys home, regroup and decide what to do next,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t think sending the boys back over there is going to work, not when they’ve just sent us packing. It will have to be in the air we fight them.’
There had already been numerous German bombing raids on the country, but they had thus far been military targets. ‘Will the Germans keep bombing us?’ asked Fitz.
‘Look, I don’t want to worry you or anything, Fitz,’ said Jack, ‘but in my humble opinion as a farmer, yes they will. And it will only get worse from now on.’
As the days went by Fitz was glued to news of the Dunkirk evacuation as it began to filter in through the media. She couldn’t help noticing the different tone in which they were reporting. Unlike Jack, who was all doom and gloom, the newspapers were making it sound like a positive thing and not the rearguard action Jack had come to call it.
Fitz never missed an opportunity to listen to the radio or read the newspapers – not through excitement like some of the young boys in the village who were running around with sticks and ‘shooting’ each other – but through a certain amount of fear and a desire to know. Possessing knowledge made Fitz feel more involved somehow, more aware so she could come to her own conclusions. It gave her a sense of control, in as much as anyone could have in the circumstances.
By the beginning of June, a truer picture of the withdrawal was beginning to emerge, along with stories of just how awful those days on Dunkirk beach really were, not to mention the enormous loss of life and the Navy destroyers, ironically, destroyed.
It was brought into sharp focus when Fitz was at the farm one day and Jack received the dreaded telegram informing him his son had been a casualty at Dunkirk and had died on the French beach on the last day of the evacuation.
The news had broken Jack and his wife, Peggy. Their grief was raw and visceral. Fitz understood grief enough to know that losing a child, no matter how honourably, was the worst possible thing for a parent to experience.
After that, the mood around the farm had been heavy, with Jack showing little to no interest in what needed to be done. His whole purpose in life lost. He’d once told her he was only keeping the farm on so his son had something to come back to after the war.
Fitz found herself increasingly left to manage the day-to-day running of the farm. It was a two-man job really and she was having to work longer and longer hours trying to do everything. She’d had to resort to seeking advice from a neighbouring farm as she had no idea about what crops needed sowing and harvesting.
In the end, the Ministry of Agriculture stepped in and appointed a manager to take over the running of the farm. Jack and Peggy packed their bags and took what few possessions they had to go to live with Peggy’s sister in the West Country.
Fitz had been sorry to see them leave. They were more casualties of this war and it was so unfair.
The weeks rolled on and there was no sign of the war ending, in fact, it was only getting worse. The German Luftwaffe had started a sustained bombing campaign across the country. Air-raid sirens and running to the Anderson shelter in the garden had become part of everyday life for Fitz, just as it had for the rest of the country. The only pleasure Fitz derived from the war, was watching the RAF fly overhead. Plane spotting had become quite a pastime for her and Michael. He’d started up a journal and was recording the different types of aircraft he saw, and proudly showed Fitz each time he updated it.
Fitz had also become obsessed with spotting the Air Transport Auxiliary pilots flying planes around the country from one airfield to another or straight from the factory. She would love to do something like that, but when she had mentioned it in passing to her father, just to test the waters, one evening in late November, he had been adamant his daughter was not going to put herself in such danger.
‘You know what they did to London,’ he had said. ‘They did the same to Coventry. Practically flattened the city and now Southampton is under attack. It’s a firestorm there, by all accounts.’
It was true, the city was a prime target for the Germans. The Supermarine factory building where they manufactured Spitfires had been targeted earlier in the year, but it hadn’t ended there. The Luftwaffe was regularly targeting the Hampshire city.
‘I’ll be delivering the planes to help the RAF. I won’t be having dog fights with the Germans,’ said Fitz.
‘I don’t want to discuss it any further,’ said her father. ‘Help the war effort by all means, but on the ground where I know you’ll be safe.’
Fitz had managed to stop herself from arguing the point further with him. Even though she didn’t want to go against her father’s wishes, she debated whether she should simply go ahead with what she wanted to do in secret. By the time her father found out, it would be too late for him to do anything about it.
When a few nights later, Fitz overheard her father and stepmother discussing her, she knew she didn’t have time to waste dithering over whether it was the right decision or not.
Fitz had been coming down the stairs and stopped mid-tread as the conversation between Edward and Camilla drifted through the open door of the drawing room.
‘I know she’s joined the Land Army,’ Camilla was saying, ‘but it’s only at Jack Howard’s old farm. I wondered if she could benefit from a change of scenery. She doesn’t seem very happy these days. I think all this farm work is not good for her spirits.’
‘But she’s learning some life skills,’ placated her father. ‘She’s doing her bit. I think she’s happy as she is.’
He was wrong there, Fitz had thought. She obviously hadn’t made it clear to him when she’d told him about wanting to join the ATA.
‘Hmm, she could, of course, be doing something less … agricultural, shall we say,’ continued Camilla.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I know you’ve ruled it out before, but you should reconsider. My elderly aunt could do with a companion. She’s a very knowledgeable woman and would take Geraldine on any trips. I know it’s not exactly finishing school, but you’d be surprised what a young woman like your daughter could learn from my aunt.’
Fitz scrunched her eyes tight shut at this turn in the conversation. She absolutely did not want to go to Scotland to be a companion to an old woman, aunt or no aunt to her stepmother. Fitz had already told her father this and she couldn’t help being a little disappointed he wasn’t more robustly refusing to entertain the idea. In fact, the silence told her he was mulling this over with more thought than she wished.
Camilla obviously felt she had him on the back foot as she rounded with another assault of persuasion.
‘It will give her some more life experience,’ she was saying. ‘Scotland is a beautiful country and I know for a fact there are several eligible bachelors, with sizeable estates. She could do far worse than to find a husband in Aberdeenshire.’
‘I’m not sure Geraldine is ready for marriage,’ replied her father.
‘Too bloody right,’ Fitz whispered to herself.
‘Whoever takes her on will have his hands full, that’s for sure,’ continued Edward.
‘She just hasn’t met the right young man, that’s all,’ said Camilla. ‘Besides, she will be very safe in Scotland. Far safer than down here with all the bombings. Once Hitler has gained control of the skies, it will be an attack by land next. You said that yourself. Up in Scotland, Geraldine will be much safer.’
Fitz shook her head. Camilla was far more persuasive than she imagined. Using her father’s own words against him.
‘Maybe you and Michael should go with her?’ suggested Edward.
‘I’m not leaving you,’ replied Camilla. ‘My home is here at Badcombe House, and it will not do to run away, especially when not everyone in the village has the luxury of such choice. No, my duty is to serve the community in the best way I can.’
‘That’s very noble of you, darling,’ said Fitz’s father. ‘You’re a good woman.’ He paused. ‘What about Michael?’
‘In times like this, a young boy needs his father more than ever,’ replied Camilla. ‘He will one day inherit Badcombe House, and he will need to understand its history and the history of the village. He’s at a very impressionable age and you are the man to set the example for him. Sending him away to stay with my aunt is not going to make a man of him.’
Fitz had to clamp her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from gasping out loud. Camilla was a cunning fox. She simply wanted rid of Fitz, that was all.
‘I’d never thought of it like that,’ she heard her father reply. ‘If you organise it with your aunt, I’ll speak to Geraldine, and we can arrange for her to go in the new year.’
‘Excellent. I’ll do that at once.’
Fitz slid back into the shadows of the staircase as Camilla opened the door of the drawing room. She certainly wasn’t wasting any time in contacting her aunt that was for sure.
Fitz felt a sting of unexpected tears prick her eyes. She wanted to be cross with her father but instead she pitied him that he had been so easily swayed by Camilla’s scheming.
‘Oh, darling,’ came her father’s voice. His wife stopped in the doorway and turned to him. ‘Let me tell Geraldine.’
‘Of course. Maybe tell her it was your idea. She’ll accept it better that way.’ With that Camilla bustled across the hallway towards the library. No doubt to contact her aunt.
It was just over a month later, the start of 1941, when Fitz’s father informed her of the decision they’d made on her behalf. Fitz didn’t argue or protest. She sat patiently on the sofa of the drawing room while her father explained his reasoning. She was only half listening. His speech was purely a formality. There was no discussion to be had.
She looked across the room and through the French doors of the first-floor sitting room which led out onto a veranda overlooking the grounds of Badcombe House.
The trees were bare of their leaves, the branches stark against the murky patchwork of the grey and white sky.
She had missed being airborne but knew it wouldn’t be long before she was up in the sky again.
‘Did you hear me?’
Fitz turned her attention back to her father and realised she had been daydreaming. ‘Yes. Yes, I did,’ she replied. ‘You want me to go to Aberdeenshire as a companion to Camilla’s aunt. And for my own safety.’
Her father eyed her with a mix of surprise and suspicion. ‘And you’re happy with that?’
Fitz smiled, as she mentally pulled the ace from her sleeve. ‘Actually, it won’t be necessary to send me to Aberdeenshire,’ she said. ‘Whilst I appreciate the thought it’s been given, you won’t need to consider me for much longer.’
Her father frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’ve signed up to join the Air Transport Auxiliary service.’ The sense of satisfaction at that announcement lifted her spirits. She didn’t want to hurt her father but sure as eggs were eggs, she wasn’t going to Aberdeenshire.
‘What? You never said? You didn’t consult me?’ her father blustered.
‘I wasn’t consulted about Aberdeenshire,’ replied Fitz. ‘However, I’m twenty-two years old and, as such, I don’t need to consult anyone.’
‘Well, I won’t let you go,’ said her father. ‘I don’t agree with this ridiculous notion of joining the ATA. What on earth do you plan on doing there? I thought you enjoyed working as a land girl.’
‘Look, I’ve been working as a land girl for the past year, working for the ATA is no different. Instead of tractors, it’s aeroplanes. It would be such a waste of time and money not to put my skills as a pilot to good use.’
‘But you can always fly after the war,’ protested her father. ‘At least working on the farm, you’re safe and if you did go to Aberdeenshire, even safer.’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ said Fitz. ‘I don’t want to go to Aberdeenshire. It would be my worst nightmare come true. I’d be bored silly and end up getting myself into bother trying to find something fun to do.’ She met her father’s gaze. ‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass Camilla.’
Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds remarkably like blackmail to me.’
‘Now, why would I do that?’ Fitz gave her most angelic smile.
Edward gave a grunt. ‘Why, indeed?’
Fitz leaned forward. ‘Please, Pa. I really want to do this. I’m old enough to join with or without your blessing.’
There was a look of sadness on her father’s face. ‘You remind me of your mother at times like this,’ he said, picking up the photograph of Fitz’s mother that he kept on his desk, alongside one of Camilla. ‘She knew her own mind, too.’ He studied it for a moment before setting it back down. ‘Truth be told, the thought of something happening to you …’ His voice trailed off.
For a moment Fitz was taken aback by her father’s openness. He rarely showed any vulnerability. She went around to his side of the desk and crouched down, holding his hand.
‘I promise I’ll be safe,’ she said. ‘I’m a good pilot. You know that. I won’t do anything reckless. I need to do something more tangible than drive a tractor up and down a field. With the ATA I’ll be on home ground; well, air and zipping about in planes.’
Her father was silent, and Fitz watched him mentally adjust his stance on the whole subject. His shoulders dropped and he let out a defeated sigh. ‘I don’t suppose I’m going to be able to change your mind.’
She shook her head. ‘No. This is what I want to do,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘I’m not cut out to be a lady’s companion.’
‘You weren’t surprised when I told you.’
‘No. I overheard you and Camilla talking,’ she confessed.
‘She was only thinking of your safety,’ said Edward. ‘We both were.’
‘I’d like to think that were true,’ replied Fitz, choosing her words carefully so as not to upset her father.
Edward let out another sigh but also smiled. ‘Well, I’d sooner you didn’t join the ATA, but I also know the importance of not simply wanting to do your bit, but your need for autonomy. I suppose I must face the fact you’re not a child anymore but a young woman with her own mind.’
Fitz hugged her father. ‘Thank you, Pa.’
‘Please be careful, though,’ said Edward. ‘No fly-pasts or looping the loop.’
‘I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘So, when do you start?’
‘In a couple of months’ time,’ said Fitz, standing up. ‘I have to report to Central Flying School in Maidenhead at ten o’clock on the fourth of March.’
Edward got to his feet and hugged Fitz. ‘I’m very proud of you and you have my blessing. Your mother would be proud of you too.’
And that last sentence meant the world to Fitz.