Chapter 9 September 1941
Chapter 9
September 1941
Over the coming weeks, Fitz found herself calling into RAF Tangmere far more than she ever had before. She wondered whether that was by design or coincidence. Surely the ferry coordinator wouldn’t be sending her to Tangmere on purpose, or would she? Either way, Fitz didn’t mind, it meant she got to see Sam on a regular basis. Of course, he wasn’t always there. His job did involve a lot of sitting around at times, waiting to be scrambled. Being on the south coast the airbase was something of major importance. The previous year, Tangmere had played a vital role in defending Britain against the attacks from the German air force. Sam had been involved in all those battles and although they had lessened, he was often out on regular patrols of the south coast.
A few times by sheer good fortune, Sam’s days off had coincided with Fitz’s down time, and he had indeed kept his promise that he’d take her out on his motorbike, promptly turning up at the house where she was billeted on his bike and whisking her out for the day.
It had been heavenly. Fitz had climbed on the back and slipped her arms around Sam’s waist. He had squeezed her hand and then patted her thigh. ‘Hold on tight!’ he called revving the engine before releasing the throttle and tearing off down the road.
Fitz had laughed in delight all the way. The feeling of the air rushing over her head and across her face wasn’t unlike being up in the sky. She loved holding tighter than necessary to Sam, her thighs squeezing against his. If she couldn’t be in an aeroplane then being on a motorbike with Sam was the very next best thing.
That night, Sam had booked them into a hotel and they’d slept together. Sex with Sam had been tender and beautiful. Fitz had never experienced such a depth of emotion, positive emotion, before. It was immense and overwhelming. And it was terrifying.
Because much as she wanted to love Sam, Fitz also didn’t want to. Her heart beat fast in her chest as something akin to panic surged through her.
She wasn’t supposed to be falling in love with him. She was just supposed to be living life and having as much fun as she could, while she could. Sam was only meant to be fun but Fitz was fully aware she was on the brink of their relationship transitioning into something far more serious.
As she lay in Sam’s arms, a tear tracked its way down her face and onto his chest.
‘Hey, hey,’ said Sam, moving his arm and turning on to his side so he could see her. He gently hooked her chin with his finger, tilting her head slightly so he could see her face.
Fitz brushed away the tears but couldn’t stop more swiftly following. ‘Ignore me,’ she said. ‘I’m being silly.’
‘You, silly? Never,’ said Sam. He stroked away another tear with his thumb. ‘You gonna tell me what’s wrong or do I have to work it out myself? Which I will, but it might be easier all round if you just talk to me.’
Fitz took a breath. ‘I’m scared,’ she said at last.
‘Of what?’
‘Of what’s happening between us. It’s all going rather fast.’ There. She’d managed to order her thoughts into a coherent sentence or two.
‘But I thought you liked speed.’ He gave a small smile and she knew he was trying to put her at ease with humour, but there was also concern in his eyes and she hated being responsible for that.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Fitz.
He held her gaze and the smile slipped away. Outright sorrow took its place. ‘Sadly, I do know what you mean, Fitz,’ he said softly, trailing his forefinger across her damp cheekbone. ‘And what’s even more sad, is I know why you mean it.’
‘Don’t say anything … please,’ whispered Fitz. She didn’t want to break what they had at this point. Any declaration of love would irreversibly change their status quo. Things would be different and she didn’t know if she could cope with that change.
‘Don’t hit the brakes, baby,’ said Sam. ‘Not yet. Stay with me. Trust me.’
Fitz nodded, gulping back another surge of tears that were welling up. She blinked them away. She mustn’t let the moment get to her. She took a deep breath to steady herself and closed her eyes for a couple of seconds.
When she opened her eyes, Sam was still looking at her. Gosh, she couldn’t cope with that. She sat up, flinging the covers back and then grappling for her dress which she slipped over her head. ‘Just need the bathroom,’ she said. She glanced back at Sam who was watching her from his position on the bed, propped up on one elbow.
‘Fitz …’ he began.
She shook her head and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, before sinking down to the floor and resting her head on her knees.
It took her a few minutes to compose herself. She splashed some water on her face and brushed her teeth. She couldn’t hide out in the bathroom all night and she didn’t want to – she just didn’t want to have any deep and meaningful conversation with Sam. It was too much for her.
When she went back into the bedroom, Sam was lying on his back. He smiled and pulled the cover back for her. ‘The night is still young,’ he said with a wink.
Fitz relaxed. This was the happy-go-lucky Sam she could deal with. ‘And so are we!’ she declared and with a flourish whipped off her dress and hopped back into bed, relieved to be back in chartered waters.
That had been three weeks ago, and Fitz had resolutely refused to even visit the conversation she’d had with Sam about their fast-moving relationship in her head, let alone discuss it with him. To her relief, he hadn’t brought it up either. They were simply enjoying the moment as much as possible. She had admitted to herself that it was a barrier, but she didn’t care to look beyond it.
‘Lucky you, you’re off to Tangmere again,’ said Elsie as they looked at their chitties. ‘I’ve got Farnborough first thing and then on to Biggin Hill and then Detling.’
It was mid-September and the demand for aircraft was increasing by the day. In fact, four days earlier the Luftwaffe had carried out an assault on Fighter Command’s forward airfields and radar stations across Kent, Sussex and the Isle of Wight.
‘Lucky in that she’ll see her sweetheart,’ said Marjorie. ‘Things are hotting up in the air. I think we’re going to be busy for the next few days.’ She looked at her chitty and reeled off the three airfields she was ferrying planes to and from.
‘Of course, I want to see Sam,’ said Fitz, ‘but it’s literally drop the plane off, and straight off again. I’ve got to take a high-ranking officer from Tangmere to Farnborough.’
‘You’ll probably be back here for tea,’ said Elsie. ‘Not sure if I’ll make it back tonight.’
‘Well, good luck, girls,’ said Marjorie as she fastened her flight helmet. ‘First one home puts the coffee on.’
For the first time in a long time, Fitz felt apprehensive as she climbed into the Supermarine Spitfire she was to deliver to Westhampnett, a satellite airfield to Tangmere, then she was to get herself back to Tangmere, then on to Hamble to collect a Hurricane and bring it back to Tangmere. It was a lot of back and forth that day but Fighter Command was keen to get all the right planes in the right places. Fitz assumed there had been some sort of intelligence come in that the likes of her wasn’t privy to. She simply had to do her job and not ask questions.
The bombing raids by the Luftwaffe a few days ago had unsettled everyone. They had been told to keep their eyes peeled and to make themselves scarce pretty damn quick if they spotted enemy aircraft. In reality, they knew they wouldn’t stand a chance. They were civilians trained to fly not fight.
As it happened, Fitz had a very uneventful flight across Hampshire and into Sussex, landing at Westhampnett. It was less than a fifteen-minute flight and she was pleased to touch down. There was a whole line of Spits lined up ready to take to the skies at a moment’s notice. At times like this when the crew were on standby, they took to sitting in their squadron group on garden chairs, listening to music on a gramophone and sipping tea or coffee. It looked more like an afternoon tea party, than a group of elite pilots ready to defend the nation.
‘I need to get down to Tangmere,’ she said to one of the ground crew once she’d handed over the aircraft and completed the necessary paperwork. ‘Anyone going that way?’
‘Fitz, isn’t it?’ said the chap.
‘Er, yes,’ said Fitz, surprised that he would know her name. ‘Has transport already been arranged?’
‘You could say that. Take a seat over in the mess room. I’ll give you a shout when it’s here.’
Fitz hadn’t been to Westhampnett before and was impressed with how efficient it appeared. She made her way over to the building, stopping at the toilets to apply her lipstick and fluff her hair. If she was going to arrive in style at Tangmere and see Sam, she wanted to look her best for him.
The mess room was fairly quiet and the pilots there were very polite, making her a cup of tea – one of them even managing to find a biscuit for her. It was all very civil. One could have been forgiven for imagining the war wasn’t going on.
She had just finished her tea when the door opened and a pilot popped his head around the door. ‘Ah, you must be Fitz,’ he said.
‘Amazing powers of deduction,’ said one of the pilots. ‘Seeing as there aren’t any other women in the room.’
Fitz got to her feet. ‘Is my lift here?’
‘Yes. Come this way please, Miss.’
Fitz followed the chap out, waving goodbye to the pilots as she went. She was a little surprised to find herself being walked out to the gate and wondered whether she was catching the bus rather than actually being picked up by someone.
‘There you go, Miss,’ said the airman.
Fitz stopped in her tracks. There on the edge of the road was Sam, astride his motorbike. He held up a crash helmet for her. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Fitz sauntered over to him. ‘Well, you’re certainly a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, planting a kiss on his mouth, not caring whether the guards on the gate or anyone else were watching. She took the crash helmet and slipped it onto her head, sighing inwardly at how it would flatten her hair once again but at least Sam had seen her beforehand.
Sam revved the engine and after ensuring Fitz was safely on the back of the bike with her arms around him, he sped away from the airfield. Fitz had to hold on with one arm and grip her flight bag tightly in the other hand. It felt ridiculously dangerous as Sam zipped his way along the winding country lanes towards Tangmere. Fitz whooped and squealed in delight as Sam took the roads at speed, leaning the Brough over frighteningly close to the ground and then accelerating hard out of the bends and along the straight, with a canopy of trees above them.
All too soon they arrived at Tangmere and although Sam had eased off the throttle, he still travelled down towards the airfield at an alarming rate. One gentleman had to step back from the road to avoid the oncoming motorcycle.
He waggled his walking stick in the air to show his vehement disapproval. Fitz would have waved an apology but holding onto the overnight bag with one hand and Sam with the other prevented her.
Within a minute, they were pulling up at the airbase.
‘You’re crazy, Mr Carter, do you know that?’ said Fitz, as she climbed off the motorcycle.
‘Crazy for you, Miss Fitz-Herbert.’ He unfastened her helmet and took his own off, before kissing her.
Fitz laughed the reply away, pretending she didn’t know what he meant.
‘Right, well, I’m going for a cuppa,’ she said. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘I’ll be over as soon as I’ve put this baby away,’ said Sam, patting the fuel tank.
Fitz went to turn but stopped. ‘Are you supposed to be on duty?’
Sam winked. ‘I snuck out for ten minutes. It’s all right. I cleared it with Teddy first,’ he replied, referring to the squadron leader. ‘He said I had fifteen minutes and by my reckoning, I’ve used precisely twelve of those.’
Fitz had no idea how he got away with it, but she was delighted nonetheless that he had made a special effort to pick her up from Westhampnett. She looked across the airfield where the squadron were sitting out in wicker chairs, reading newspapers, dozing in the sun, chatting to each other, looking terribly relaxed. Their Hurricane aircraft were beyond them on the field, all ready to go at a moment’s notice.
It was then she saw Bob, whom she’d become good friends with over the past few months. He jogged over to them. ‘Might want to get yourself back there, ASAP,’ he said.
‘Trouble?’ asked Sam.
‘West Malling has just been hit,’ informed Bob. ‘Two squadrons of Junkers got through. They thought it was a feint.’
Fitz understood the term. A feint was designed to give the impression of a mock attack to draw the enemy out. ‘What’s the situation now?’ she asked.
‘We’re all on high alert,’ said Bob.
Sam swore under his breath. ‘I’d better go,’ he said to Fitz.
She nodded. ‘See you back here for a cuppa later,’ she said, trying to sound bright and breezy but missing the mark.
Sam held her gaze for a few seconds, his unspoken words of reassurance communicated to her in his eyes. Fitz couldn’t help thinking they had a blue-grey colour to them today, rather like an ominous rain cloud. ‘Make it a strong black coffee and I’m all yours,’ he said, throwing her a grin before starting the engine and driving off in the direction of the hangar.
As she hurried over to the mess room, the lightness Fitz had felt earlier had all but disappeared. She was anxious and she hated feeling like this. The risk of losing someone she cared about was almost too much a price to pay. Surely it was easier not to love, and then she wouldn’t have to lose.
She glanced back at the squadron where Sam was now standing talking to one of the other pilots. It was time for her heart to retreat. She was so silly to have allowed herself to get emotionally attached to him. She should have kept Sam Carter at arm’s length, exactly like she had every other man. That way her heart was safe.
She hadn’t been in the mess room for more than half an hour when the sound of the squadron being scrambled rang out across the airstrip. Fitz jumped to her feet and darted over to the window where she could see the ground crew sprinting towards the stationary Hurricanes. The pilots were shrugging on their flight jackets and helmets whilst simultaneously running over to their aircraft that were already being warmed up by the engineers.
She went to the door and stepped out onto the airfield. The sound of the engines rumbling into life filled the air, and the smell of aviation fuel took Fitz right back to that awful day when Betty had died.
The anxiety was now racing through her. She took several long deep breaths. This wasn’t like her at all. She did not go to pieces in an emergency.
‘Get a grip of yourself,’ she muttered.
She watched the Hurricanes begin to rumble their way towards the runway in groups of three. Within seconds the first trio were hurtling down the tarmac and taking off, heading out towards the south coast. Seconds later, another trio, and then another. The next group contained Sam’s plane and she watched as it lifted into the air, not taking her eyes off it until it was out of sight.
‘Please come back, Sam,’ she whispered. ‘Please come back.’ She purposely didn’t ask him to come back to her . She had no right to ask that. He didn’t belong to her. She didn’t want that responsibility – she was no good at that sort of thing. It was a selfish trait she was aware of but didn’t like to acknowledge. However, today, she realised the most unselfish thing she could do, was to not ask for Sam to come back to her. He just had to come back and she’d settle for that.
Due to the confrontation going on in the sky, Fitz knew without having to check that she was grounded until it was safe for her to continue her assignment or receive further orders to return to Hamble.
She tried to settle in the mess room, tried not to worry about Sam, but she found it impossible. Her emotions were like some macabre merry-go-round, with every complete cycle, she changed from confident, to fearful, to terrified. She wanted to go over to the control tower, to hear what was going on but she knew they wouldn’t let her in. The same with the command room. It was out of bounds to her. Instead, she was stuck in the mess room with absolutely no idea of what was going on as 601 Squadron defended the south coast.
Fitz wasn’t aware of time but it couldn’t have been more that fifteen or twenty minutes when the sound of aircraft approaching was heard before she could spot it. She tuned in her ear. It wasn’t Hurricanes. She’d recognise their distinctive sound anywhere. No this was something different.
The air-raid siren began to sound and she could hear the station tannoy warning.
‘ Take cover – take cover, Stukas sighted coming towards Tangmere – take cover .’