Beauty Chorus, The (20 page)

‘Right, full throttle for take-off, and …’ The aircraft lifted, and her heart soared with it as she skimmed above the tree-lined lane on the west boundary of the airfield. As
the ground fell away beneath her, the trees and houses growing smaller, she whooped for joy. This was what all the girls talked about, the secret joy that made all the risks they took
worthwhile.

Nothing seemed to matter once she was in the air. Her argument with Beau, her dreadful date with Teddy, everything just evaporated as she settled in to the flight. She checked the map and set a
clear course for Bristol. ‘Oh, she flies through the air with the greatest of ease …’ she sang at the top of her voice. She was so engrossed in her own world that she
didn’t notice the large bank of cloud ahead. Before she knew what was happening, silver wisps flitted past, and soon the plane was engulfed.
Damn, where did that come from?
she
thought. Quickly she ran through her options. She bit her lip as she checked her map. Where was she exactly? If she went down, there was always the chance there might be a steep hill or a barrage
balloon just below her. It was too dangerous. The only option was to go up, and hope there was a break in the cloud where she could come down and find the nearest airfield. She eased back on the
joystick and the nose of the plane lifted. It seemed like a lifetime until she broke through the thick cloud and bright sunlight flooded the cockpit.

Once she was above the clouds, she breathed easily again, though her heart was still racing.
Right, Evie
, she told herself,
calm down.
Beau’s voice came to her:
Don’t panic. Think.
She checked her compass and map. If she continued west, she would make Bristol in about thirty minutes, she calculated. Even if there was no break in the cloud, she
could come down just after that and swing back east over the water and navigate from the coast. The shadow of the plane flitted along the cloud bank beneath her.
It’s beautiful
, she
thought, and wondered if this was how Amy had felt as she tried to find a way through to safety.

After half an hour, there was still no break in the cloud. The minutes ticked away relentlessly. She knew if she flew on much longer she wouldn’t have enough fuel to make it back to the
airfield.
Please God, don’t let me cock up on my first flight
, she prayed silently, and as she did her panic gave way to a feeling of calm. She knew she was flying alone, but she had
the strangest sense someone was with her. Her heart pounding, she banked the plane into a 180 degree turn, and began to descend. Cloud engulfed her, and again she was flying blind. Down, down, the
cloud seemed to last forever, but still she was calm. She had a very real feeling that she would get through this. The cloud broke and she found herself skimming above the sea in the driving rain.
She screwed up her eyes, tried to make out the coast. She could see land up ahead, but had no idea how far off course she had drifted.

If I’m too far south
, she thought.
I should see the estuary up ahead. Please let me see the estuary up ahead.
Beneath her, the Bristol Channel was choppy and grey. There was
no way she wanted to ditch in that if she could avoid it.

At last she saw the mouth of the River Severn beneath her, and she banked the plane around.

‘Yes!’ she said under her breath, and followed it in. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ she whispered as she made out the factory at Filton and the Whitchurch airfield
ahead of her. It was chock-a-block with aircraft, and as she was flying without a radio she did a couple of circuits to make sure there were no other pilots waiting to land. As she straightened up
for the final approach, she was shaking with adrenalin.
Right, flaps down
, she thought.
Ease the old girl down to 65 mph.
The runway was slick with rain as she landed, and water
sprayed from beneath the wheels. She taxied over to a spot some way from the hangars, and as she turned the engine off all she could hear was the rush of blood in her veins, the thud of her heart
and the drumming rain on the wings. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

From the offices, a figure emerged, sheltering under a mac as he sprinted across the runway towards her. Determined not to show how shaken up she was, Evie quickly powdered her nose with a
trembling hand. As she climbed out of her seat to greet him, her knees buckled.

‘Are you OK, Miss?’ he called out.

‘Fine,’ she said breezily, pretending to check the wing. ‘Thought I saw something on the approach.’

‘Well it must have been your guardian angel.’ The pilot smiled up at her and cocked his cap back at an angle. ‘Boy, they said a pretty girl was going to be delivering a plane,
and they were right.’ He took her flight bag and offered her his hand. Evie jumped down from the cockpit into his arms. ‘Here.’ He draped the mac over her head.

‘Thank you. Are you American?’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ He saluted. The rain ran over his tanned face, slicking his wild dark hair to his head. ‘Pilot Officer Jack Whitman, US Eagle Squadron No. 71, based in
Kirton. I’m fighting with your boys, convoy work mostly,’ he explained as they ran for shelter. ‘There are only a few of us Yanks over here. My grandfather was British so I
thought I’d do my bit for you guys.’

‘A pioneer?’ she said. ‘I thought for a moment I had overshot the mark and ended up in New York.’

‘No, ma’am, welcome to Bristol.’

As they paused in the porch to catch their breath, Evie laughed. ‘Do stop calling me ma’am, you make me feel like an old woman!’

A gust of wind blew a puddle of water off the porch roof, and he pulled her close to him to avoid it. ‘You sure don’t feel like an old woman to me.’

‘Right now I feel lucky to be alive,’ she murmured as the rain fell around them. The blood rushed in her veins, and a warm wave of desire pulsed through her.

‘Why don’t we get you out of your wet things?’

Evie hesitated, smiled. ‘I’d like that.’

In the offices the Duty Pilot signed Evie’s chit for the plane. As Jack pushed the door open, music and voices drifted out from the mess.

‘I’m flying Hurricanes. What are you on?’ he said.

‘Single-engine trainers at the moment. I’ve just got my wings.’ Evie ran her hand through her wet hair. ‘In fact this is my first flight.’

‘Well you picked a hell of a day for it.’ He guided her through the crowd. ‘Where are you based?’

‘White Waltham.’

‘Do you know Stewart Updike? You should look him up. He’s a good guy. Well he’s a Yank so he would be.’ Jack grinned down at her, his teeth white and even. ‘If all
the girls at your pool are as pretty as you maybe I’ll drop in there and see Stewart next time I have some leave.’

‘That would be fun,’ Evie said lightly. ‘Are you on leave at the moment?’

‘No, I was out on cross-country manoeuvres, trying out a Spit. We’re going to be switching to them soon. Man, they’re great to fly – no bad habits at all, though I had a
bit of a prang. When the weather closed in I thought I’d head here because I know a few of the guys and Taff’s one of the best engineers around. He’s fixing my kite at the
moment.’

‘How did you end up in England?’

‘Well, my dad got in with Charles Sweeny’s lot – he brought us over here.’

‘Have you always flown?’

‘Well, ma’am … Evie.’ He smiled. ‘I’m 20/20 and could give them 300 hours crop-dusting time and they seemed pleased enough.’

‘Do you like the Spits? I do hope they’ll let us fly them soon.’

‘Why, they’re a great plane – a little lively. I’m more used to the Hurricanes to be honest with you.’ Jack scanned the mess. ‘Did you know we’ve got
some of your ATA fellows here already?’ he said.

‘You have?’

‘Yeah, the whole country’s shut down. Something to do with a sudden high dew point. They’ll be glad to see you.’

‘Or maybe not,’ Evie murmured as she recognised Beau at the counter, still in his flying jacket and Sidcot suit. ‘Hello, sir,’ she said clearly as she slipped onto the
stool beside him.

‘Evie,’ he said. ‘Thank God.’

Evie?
She thought. ‘I made it, but only just.’ She smiled bravely.

‘Cut the flannel. Now’s not the time to shoot a line,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you heard? The whole country’s down. We’ve lost a lot of pilots. When I saw you
were heading down here, and it was your first flight …’

Evie was aware that Jack was listening to every word and she didn’t like the way Beau had cut her down again. ‘I didn’t know you cared, Beau,’ she smiled flirtatiously,
flashing her eyes at Jack.

Beau put his coffee cup down. ‘As your instructor I feel responsible. As you would for a child.’ He frowned. ‘And I’ve told you before, don’t call me
Beau.’

‘Sorry. Well, don’t call me Evie. It’s Third Officer Chase to you, sir,’ she called after him as he strode out of the mess.

‘Friendly guy, huh?’ Jack leant back against the counter and offered her a cigarette.

‘Thank you,’ Evie cupped his hand as he gave her a light and raised her eyes to his.

‘So what’s the deal?’ he asked quietly. ‘Are you and he …?’

‘Us?’ Evie laughed incredulously. ‘You must be joking. No, I’m footloose and fancy free.’ She crossed her leg towards Jack, wishing she was wearing her uniform
rather than her flying suit and boots.

‘Now that,’ Jack leant towards her, ‘is the best news I’ve heard all day.’

In the cloakroom, Evie slipped out of her wet flying suit, and pulled her uniform out of the bag. She hung it near the steaming basin of water to try to get the creases out,
and brushed her hair. In the mirror she checked her reflection, powdered her nose and applied a flash of dark kohl over each eyelid. Her lipstick was still fine, so she just smudged her lips
together, running her tongue over her teeth. She thought of Jack’s dazzling smile, and desire rushed through her again.

Evie took a step back, turned this way and that in front of the mirror, straightening the straps of her camisole.
An American
, she thought, remembering how it felt when he had pulled her
to him in the porch. Jack seemed so vital, full of life and energy.
Not like old Beau
, she thought, and poked out her tongue. She pulled a precious pair of black silk stockings from the bag
and slipped one on, fastening the top at her garter belt. Just as she put the other one on, and raised her leg to the basin to smooth the stocking over her thigh, the door flew open.

‘Man, it’s like a Turkish steam bath in here!’ Jack froze as he saw her, and blew a long, slow whistle.

‘I’m sorry, I thought I locked the door,’ Evie said coolly, putting her hands on her hips.

‘You did, probably.’ Jack’s gaze held hers. ‘It doesn’t work. Ever since they’ve been sending beautiful half-naked pilots down here, some jerk decided it
would be fun to break the lock. I don’t know why.’

‘I see.’

‘Oh no! It wasn’t me,’ he protested. ‘I didn’t know you were in here. I just really need to … Do you mind?’ He pointed at the cubicle.

‘Be my guest.’ Evie hoped she looked calmer than she felt. Once he had locked the loo door, she raced to get her uniform on.

‘Nothing’s moving tonight,’ he called out to her. ‘A few of the guys are going to the pub up the road for dinner, do you want to come along?’

‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘I’m ravenous.’

Just as she settled her cap on her head, the door opened again and Beau stepped in. When he opened his mouth to speak, the loo flushed and he looked over at the cubicle. Jack emerged, a little
startled when he saw the other man.

Beau frowned. ‘Miss Chase, it’s clearing up enough out there for me to make it back. I’m going to White Waltham tonight. If you want to come back with me, I can give you a lift
and one of the other pilots can bring your aircraft in the morning. It’s been a hell of a day.’

Evie looked at Jack. He was gazing at her, eyes full of barely concealed desire. ‘No, thank you, Wing Commander. I wouldn’t dream of failing to complete my first mission. I’ll
fly back in the morning.’

Beau folded his arms. ‘Will you indeed?’

‘Yes, sir. You can count on me.’

‘Fine. Give the pool a ring – Littlewick Green 258. Tell them you’ll be back tomorrow.’ He glared at Jack and strode out of the cloakroom.

As the door banged shut behind him, Jack offered her his arm. ‘Shall we?’

19

‘Oh, that was good.’ Evie sighed as she settled back in her chair beside the fire. ‘How lucky having this place on the doorstep. The food is
marvellous.’ The old beamed pub was busy, humming with voices. The pilots they had come with were busy playing billiards in the back room, and they were alone now. The fire gleamed on the
polished brass pots that hung from the rafters, and an old Labrador snored contentedly beside the bar.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Jack said. His finger traced the side of her hand, and as she looked at him the firelight flickered in his eyes.

‘You must think I’m a greedy pig,’ Evie smiled. She hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. There was something easy about Jack’s company. She sipped her glass of
beer as the landlord rang the bell for last orders. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘Is it closing time already?’ The evening had flown by.

‘That’s OK,’ Jack took her hand. ‘George is pretty relaxed with his residents.’

‘You’re staying here?’ At his touch, Evie felt the hair rise at the nape of her neck.

‘Best billet in town. I booked in the minute I knew I’d be stuck here for the night.’

‘Do you think he has a spare room? I need somewhere to stay.’

‘Nope, but you’re welcome to share mine,’ Jack said.

‘Do you Yanks think English girls are that easy?’

He leant towards her. ‘Easy? No. But I think you’re the most dazzling girl I’ve seen in my life.’

Evie’s breath was light and fast. ‘Flattery won’t make me sleep with you.’

‘Who said anything about sleeping?’ He traced her jaw with his fingertip. ‘Stay with me,’ he said.

Evie felt the blood pulse in her veins, warmed by the fire, the closeness of him. ‘Stay,’ he said again. ‘I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.’