Chapter 4 March 1941
Chapter 4
March 1941
‘Don’t be sad,’ said Fitz, giving Michael a hug. ‘I’ll be able to come back and see you when I’m on leave and, you never know, I might be back here in Badcombe one day delivering a plane. I’ll come and see you.’
‘Promise?’ asked Michael, looking up at his sister with teary eyes.
‘Of course, I will. And I’ll write to you anyway and tell you about all the planes I get to fly and all the places I’ll be visiting.’
Michael gave a small smile.
‘Come along, now,’ said Camilla, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be crying. Geraldine has to leave now.’
‘Goodbye, Camilla,’ said Fitz, embracing her stepmother briefly. It felt odd to have this kind of personal contact with the woman.
Camilla patted Fitz’s back and pulled away. ‘Good luck,’ she said.
‘We need to go otherwise you’ll miss your train,’ called her father, getting into the driver’s side of the car. He was taking her to Badcombe train station for the first leg of her journey to Maidenhead.
Fitz climbed into the car next to her father and waved from the passenger window all the way down the drive.
‘Don’t worry about Michael,’ said her father. ‘He’ll be all right.’
‘I know. I do feel a bit guilty leaving him,’ admitted Fitz, although the excitement at joining the ATA far outweighed any sense of duty to stay in Badcombe.
The parting with her father was perhaps more emotional than Fitz had anticipated. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek.
‘I will miss you,’ he said, with a soft smile.
‘I’ll miss you, too,’ she replied, feeling a genuine wave of sadness wash over her.
‘You’re not allowed to,’ said her father. ‘You’re to go and enjoy what you’re doing. All I ask is two things. That you’ll keep in touch and write to Michael often.’
‘Of course.’
‘And that you’ll be safe. Please stay safe.’
Fitz didn’t miss the look of sadness in her father’s eyes and she knew instantly what he wasn’t saying was more powerful than his actual words. The unspoken message that he’d lost his first wife and didn’t want to lose his daughter might as well have been signposted above him.
‘I promise I’ll be safe, Pa.’ She hugged him again before clambering onto the train. Her father boarded with her to put her case in the overhead luggage rack before disembarking just as the platform guard blew his whistle and waved his flag at the driver.
Fitz stood at the door with the window slid down and waved furiously to her father as the train pulled out of the station. She would miss him. She knew she would, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on those emotions.
She sat back down in her seat and smiled to herself at the start of her new adventure.
As the train steamed its way through Cambridgeshire, Fitz watched the passing countryside. The telephone lines running along the side of the railway line were hypnotic as they rose and fell in time with the rhythm of the train.
St Neots heralded a change of trains, and this one was rather busier than the one before. There were several carriages packed with service personnel where it looked to be standing room only. Fitz was lucky in that her father had bought her a first-class ticket and she was able to sit for the journey.
Eventually, the train pulled into the railway station. As Fitz slid down the window to open the door from the outside, she looked down the train and was surprised to see about twenty to thirty military personnel disembark further down the platform.
She stepped off the train and onto the platform, placing her suitcase down on the ground while she took a moment to work out where she was supposed to go. The letter had said there would be transport to meet her.
‘Hello, there,’ came a woman’s voice. ‘Are you here for CFS?’
Fitz looked at the young woman coming to a halt in front of her. She looked to be about Fitz’s own age, maybe a little older, and had her brunette hair pulled back into a neat pleat. She was wearing a tweed styled suit.
‘Yes, that’s right. Geraldine Fitz-Herbert.’ She held out her hand to the woman.
‘Ooh, Geraldine Fitz-Herbert, now there’s fancy,’ replied the woman with a grin. She shook Fitz’s hand. ‘Elsie Sullivan. Single barrelled.’
Despite the obvious teasing, Fitz took an instant shine to the woman. ‘Most people call me Fitz,’ she said.
‘Thank God for that. Much less of a mouthful.’
‘Are you here to join the ATA?’ asked Fitz.
‘I most certainly am,’ replied Elsie. ‘I take it that’s what you’re here for?’
Fitz nodded. ‘That’s right.’ From over Elsie’s shoulder she saw several soldiers standing in a group, looking over at them.
One of them smoking a cigarette, put his finger and thumb in his mouth and let out a long high-pitched whistle as he openly looked Fitz and Elsie up and down.
‘Hello, girls!’ he called out. ‘You look lost. Do you need help?’
Elsie rolled her eyes at Fitz and turned to face the group. Before she could say anything, Fitz called back to them.
‘If we need any help, we’ll ask one of the men.’ She nodded towards three uniformed airmen striding down the platform. One of them heard her and slowed as he took in the scene before him and then made a beeline for Fitz.
‘Sweetheart!’ he called out, walking right up to her and kissing her cheek. ‘Glad you got here safely.’
‘Oh, darling, you’re here,’ replied Fitz. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you,’ she said, continuing the farce. She couldn’t help noticing how handsome the man was. And what was with the American accent? How odd. His dark hair was cut short, but the front left a little longer and combed back. He had the most amazing blue eyes, she’d seen, almost as blue as his uniform.
One of his companions put an arm around Elsie. ‘Hello, baby,’ he said. With his back to the Englishmen, he winked at Elsie.
Fitz looked over at the British soldiers who were watching the scene play out.
The American turned to the men. ‘Can I help you boys with anything?’
‘Boys? Sod off, mate,’ said the soldier. He gave a derisory glance in Fitz’s direction, before spinning on his heel and practically pushing his group out of the station.
‘Thanks for that,’ said Elsie. ‘And sorry. I guess some of the British lads forget how to treat a lady.’
Fitz didn’t miss the eye flutter her new friend offered the Americans and internally bristled at the notion she needed someone to look out for her. ‘We did have that covered, you know. I could handle them myself.’
The American eyed her with amusement. ‘Sure. I have no doubt, but I needed an excuse to come talk to you.’
Fitz raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’
‘Certainly is, Ma’am.’ He gave a quick salute. ‘Flying Officer Sam Carter, at your service.’
‘Well, Flying Officer Sam Carter, you’ve done your good deed for the day and we won’t keep you any longer.’ Fitz offered a tight smile to Carter and to the other airman, before picking up her suitcase and holding her head up high, walked towards the exit. After a few moments, she heard Elsie’s footsteps clattering behind her as she hurried to catch up.
‘What’s the rush?’ asked Elsie, falling into step alongside Fitz. ‘I was quite enjoying myself there for a moment.’
‘Maybe so, but I didn’t want to encourage them. We’re not pieces of meat that can be fought over.’
‘Ooh, get you,’ said Elsie. ‘Lady Fitz-Herbert. Honestly, you can tell me, you’ve got to be a lady with a name like that and an accent like cut glass.’
It wasn’t said with any malice and Fitz found herself smiling. She slowed her pace. ‘Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not a lady.’
‘But you’re posh.’
‘That’s a matter of relativity,’ said Fitz. ‘Come on, we need to find our transport.’
They made their way through the ticket office. Something made Fitz glance back at Sam Carter. He was still watching her and gave her a wink. Fitz immediately looked away. She could feel the colour rising up her neck.
‘Why have you got that silly smile on your face?’ asked Elsie.
‘I haven’t.’ Fitz forcibly schooled her face into a neutral expression.
They exited the ticket office and stood on the pavement, looking around for their transport to the CFS. There were five other smartly dressed young women congregated further along, each with a suitcase.
Fitz approached them. ‘Hello. Are you for the CFS?’
‘Yes, we are,’ said one of them. ‘Marjorie Timpson.’
They all made their introductions to each other, although Fitz wasn’t sure she’d remember their names straight off but they all seemed a likeable bunch.
An army lorry started its engine and, packed with soldiers, pulled away from the pavement. Fitz noticed one of the soldiers at the back was the chap from the platform. He spotted Fitz.
‘See you later, beautiful!’ he called out, blowing a kiss in her direction, which caused laughter amongst the men.
‘Is that your boyfriend?’ asked Marjorie.
‘You must be joking,’ said Fitz, resisting the urge to shout something wholly inappropriate at the soldier. ‘Wouldn’t be seen dead with him.’
‘Eyes up, girls,’ said another of the women.
Everyone looked ahead as Flying Officer Sam Carter and his friend appeared from the ticket office. He glanced their way and made eye contact with Fitz and smiled at her.
Fitz held his gaze, not blinking, in a game of brinkmanship she didn’t know why she’d entered. Goodness, he needed to stop looking at her like that. And as for that smile. He had no business to flash that around.
Sam did, in fact, break his gaze first and climbed into a waiting car, which drove them away.
Fitz let out a sigh of relief.
‘Did you see that?’ exclaimed one of the women.
‘How could you not?’ said another.
‘Seemed like he had eyes for you,’ said Marjorie to Fitz.
‘You can’t take any of them seriously,’ replied Fitz, attempting to sound flippant.
‘Well, if you don’t want him,’ said one of the women who Fitz thought was called Betty. ‘You can send him my way.’
‘You’d be very welcome to him,’ replied Fitz, though not entirely sure she was being truthful.
The conversation was interrupted as a bus pulled up alongside the group. The doors swished open and the driver called out to them. ‘You for the flying school? Get on.’
Once at Central Flying School, things moved apace. Fitz and her newly found companions were officially enrolled, issued with their uniform and assigned their living quarters. It was ten of them on this intake and they all shared a dormitory, which was essentially a wooden hut.
‘A bit different to what you’re used to, I expect,’ said Elsie, as they plonked their armfuls of uniform and luggage down on their beds.
‘Probably a bit different to what we’re all used to,’ said Fitz. From their conversations travelling from the station, it was fair to say, all of the women had come from a more privileged background, having already had experience in flying. None of them were new to the skies and you only got that experience if you were lucky enough to have the money to do so. However, Fitz knew she was perhaps at the higher end of that financial privilege.
‘I suppose so,’ conceded Elsie.
‘So, what made you sign up?’ It was Marjorie, who had claimed the bed across the room from Fitz.
‘I love flying and this is the only way I get to be in the sky,’ said Fitz. ‘Plus it’s helping the war effort. What about you two?’
Marjorie shrugged. ‘Pretty much the same thing. I wanted to do something useful, and this seemed the perfect solution. Besides, I have two older brothers and they are both in the air force. I didn’t want to be the odd one out. I’ve never let them outdo me before, so I don’t intend to start now.’
Fitz smiled. She liked Marjorie. Very no-nonsense.
‘I couldn’t bear the thought of milking any more cows,’ groaned Elsie, opening her suitcase. ‘If I never see another glass of milk again in my life, it won’t be a moment too soon. Plus they are smelly bloody things. Eh.’
Fitz laughed along with Marjorie.
‘Mind if I camp here?’ came a voice. The young woman Fitz thought was called Betty stood by the bed next to Marjorie.
‘Be my guest,’ replied Marjorie. ‘It’s Betty, isn’t it?’
‘Thanks. Yes, that’s right. Betty Anderson.’ The redhead smiled at the trio. ‘Nice to meet you all.’
As they unpacked their suitcases, the four women chatted amongst themselves, exchanging information on where they lived and what they had been up to prior to the war and since it had broken out. They, of course, all had the same thing in common – their love for flying and their sense of duty. Becoming a ferry pilot, ferrying the aircraft from one place to another, was the perfect role for them.
That night when Fitz went to bed, she had a sense of belonging. Something she wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced before. She’d never felt she had fitted in well anywhere, and often felt the odd one out amongst her contemporaries. When her mother had died, the sense of being the odd one out was exascerbated. All her friends still had both parents alive. Even from an early age, Fitz could see the pity in the grown-ups’ eyes that she had only her father to look after her. It wasn’t a feeling Fitz had enjoyed and in fact she had rebelled against it. She’d done everything she could to find happiness and to prove to them she didn’t need their pity. She had dated several young men in the past few years, much to Edward and Camilla’s disapproval, and had ignored their requests that she modify her behaviour and not skip from one boy to another. Fitz always found the start of a relationship fun and exciting but the thrill soon fizzled out, especially when the men seemed to be one step ahead of her and within a couple of months were talking marriage. Settling down was high on Camilla’s agenda for Fitz, but Fitz didn’t want that because with marriage would come responsibilities and babies, neither of which she was ready for. She wanted to enjoy life and be free of societal expectations. In the air, she’d always found that freedom, and she wasn’t giving that up for anyone.
Flying had become her happy place.
And now she was amongst women who loved the skies as much as she did. She’d found her family.