Blackbirds (27 page)

Sharon shrugged. She wore her fleece-lined Irvine jacket with a pair of coveralls underneath and still couldn't stay warm in the damp British cold.
Give me a cold, sunny January day on the prairies anytime
.

“It was the same after the last war. Most often, the ones who were in the thick of it didn't want to talk about it. While the ones who never got near the front line talked like they'd fought and won the war single-handedly.” Mother picked up a chit and waved it at Sharon. “This delivery is a bit unusual.”

“How's that?” Sharon reached for the paper.

“You're to report to Salisbury Hall.”

“Where's that?” Sharon took the chit.

“Northwest of London. If memory serves, Salisbury Hall has an actual moat.” Mother winked.

“You're joking!”

“Not a bit of it. By the way, how's Sean?”

“Fine. I get a letter almost every day. It sounds like he's fitting in. I miss him, of course.” Sharon felt the tears brimming.

“That brings up another matter. You've been granted a week's leave, starting the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mother!” Sharon stood up, reached across the table, and hugged him.

“Let me finish.” Mother's ears were red from blushing.

Sharon released him.

“We'll set up a delivery for you somewhere near Ilkley. You deserve a leave after the battle and all of the replacements you've delivered since then. You've been going non-stop. And we know, as do many of the pilots, that you did more than most.”

Sharon frowned.
Linda gave more than I did.

“I know, you'd rather it be kept quiet. Still, there are many of us at the flying end of things who know what you did. And, just between me, you, and the wall over there, that order for you to go to Salisbury Hall comes from the top.”

Sharon cocked her head to one side. “You mean d'Erlanger?”

Mother nodded. “You always were a quick study. Can I conclude that d'Erlanger knows what you did?”

He does indeed.
“Can I fetch you a cup of coffee?”

“Ah, an abrupt change in topic. I'll take that as a yes, then?” Mother put his forefinger to the bridge of his nose and winked at her.

“No flies on you.” Sharon smiled. “Do you want a bloody cup of coffee or not?”

“No, thank you. Better be on your way.” He pointed in the general direction of the airfield. “Douglas just finished his walk around on the Anson.”

“By the way, what happened to Roger?” Sharon asked.

Mother's eyes narrowed. “Drank himself into another kind of work.”

Sharon grabbed her gear, went out the door, and strolled to the Anson. The leather of her flying boots was wet with last night's rain and this morning's dissipating patches of fog.

Douglas was strapping himself into the pilot's seat of the Anson. She tossed her gear in the rear door and climbed in after.

“Good morning, Sharon. We're off to Salisbury Hall.” Douglas adjusted a throttle and flipped a switch.

“Anyone else off to exotic locales this morning?” Sharon sat down and strapped herself in just aft of the wing spar.

“Just you. A quick hop for me, then off to Duxford.” Douglas opened his side window. “Clear!”

One propeller began to rotate. The engine coughed, then caught, and the propeller disappeared into a blur.

Douglas started the other engine. He glanced over his shoulder. “All secure?”

Sharon checked her harness and looked back to make sure the rear door was closed and latched. She nodded at Douglas.

The flight to Salisbury Hall took less than half an hour. Sharon looked down as Douglas passed over a two-storey manor house that looked to be half as big again as Lacey Manor. She spotted a twin-engined aircraft. It had black spinners and black tarps covering most of a yellow paint scheme.
I've never seen an airplane quite like that
before
.

After Douglas landed, dropped her off, and departed, Sharon dodged puddles as she made her way over to the hangar for a closer look at the yellow aircraft.

A soldier pulled his rifle off of his shoulder and held it across his body. “Stand and be recognized.”

Sharon stopped.
Not this again
.

“It's quite all right!” Gerard d'Erlanger stepped out of the hangar, followed by a pilot in a black flight suit who was unfamiliar to Sharon. “She's with the
ATA
. She's expected. My fault. I should have given you advanced warning.”

The soldier put his rifle back on his shoulder and turned his back on them.

“Sharon Lacey, this is Geoffrey,” d'Erlanger said.

The other pilot, with the unruly hair and a ready smile, offered Sharon his hand. “A distinct pleasure, Miss Lacey.”

She shook it. “Thank you.”
That's the best I can come up with?
Thank you?

“
I've suggested that Geoffrey here take you up for a flight in a new aircraft that is being tested and will soon be on the front lines. A word or two from Geoffrey in the right ear will go a long way to opening up all types of aircraft to
ATA
pilots such as yourself,” d'Erlanger said.

“Gerard tells me you've done quite a variety of flying during the recent battles, and that you've had some rather unique experiences.” Geoffrey smiled.

What is he smiling about?

“You do understand that what we are about to do is covered by the Official Secrets Act.” Geoffrey stopped smiling to accentuate the sobriety of his announcement. “It's important that we keep knowledge of this aircraft secret before it reaches active service.”

Sharon nodded.
What have I gotten myself into now?

“All right, then, first things first. Follow along as I take you through the preflight check.” Geoffrey walked toward the aircraft.

D'Erlanger walked in the direction of a nearby building, leaving Sharon next to a puddle of water. She followed Geoffrey, who stood under the nose of the aircraft and looked up through an access door. He propped a ladder up against the inside of the hatch. “We'll begin at the nose.”

He's very methodical, very thorough
, Sharon thought as he walked her around and underneath the aircraft. “What's it called?”

Geoffrey walked to the narrow ladder under the nose and held it steady. “I think it will be called the Mosquito.” He indicated with his right hand that she should climb aboard.

Sharon stepped on the bottom rung of the ladder, climbed, and squeezed through the narrow opening, then crawled onto the floor of the aircraft. She stood up under the generous canopy. The aircraft smelled of wood and fresh paint.

Geoffrey's head popped through the opening. “Sit in the pilot's seat, please.”

“What?”

“You didn't think we brought you up here just to watch, did you?” Geoffrey elbowed his way up through the opening and sat down beside her in the observer's seat. “Get strapped in. I'll talk you through all of the bells and whistles, and we'll see if you're as good as Gerard says you are.”

After he explained the Mosquito's personality and remarkably few foibles to her, the aircraft was towed out to the taxiway. She started up first the right engine, and then the left. He talked her through the preflight checks. The power of the paired Merlin engines launched them on takeoff. Sharon focused on her instruments as they climbed through the solid overcast, then above it, into a white glaring wonderland at twenty thousand feet. She yelled with pure exhilaration at the thrill of it, the absolute joy as she sat between those two powerful engines where the forward visibility was remarkable. When she checked the airspeed, her jaw dropped.
This thing is fast!
Their hour in the air was over in what felt like ten short minutes.

After the landing and shutdown, Sharon followed Geoffrey across to his office, where d'Erlanger was talking on the telephone.

D'Erlanger hung up. “Well? How was the flight?”

Geoffrey said, “There's no problem here. I think that you understated Miss Lacey's abilities as a pilot. High-performance aircraft are her forte.”

D'Erlanger nodded.

There was a knock at the door. It opened, and a tray arrived with a teapot, cream, sugar, and three cups.

After the batman left, d'Erlanger poured the tea, sat, and curled his fingers around the china.

Sharon added cream and sugar, then sat down.

Geoffrey sat down to complete the triangle.

Sharon took a sip.
This isn't at all bad
.

“There are a number of new aircraft that are about to become available to the
RAF
and the Navy. As a result, we will need someone to fly them, oversee the manuals for other
ATA
pilots, and provide assistance where necessary. Are you interested?” d'Erlanger asked.

Sharon frowned. “Are you offering me a new job?”

“And a promotion, actually. Quite frankly, you've earned it,” d'Erlanger said.

“When do I start?”

D'Erlanger smiled. “You have a week's leave coming up?”

“Yes.”

“Your orders will be waiting for you when you return to White Waltham.” D'Erlanger took another sip of tea. “The
RAF
is going to experience tremendous expansion, even more profound than what we've already gone through. We have new aircraft to deliver and we need people to train the pilots who will fly them. And” — he glanced at Geoffrey — “there are still those who believe that women are not up to the work. You will help prove the naysayers wrong.”

She frowned.
I'm to be a poster girl for the
ATA
?

Geoffrey said, “Before you begin to think you're some kind of propaganda tool, think again. We need pilots whom young women will look up to, and who will teach them the skills they require to stay alive.”

Later that evening,
Sharon sat down for supper in the White Waltham mess. She stared at a plate of mutton and beans. Her stomach groaned. She looked up at the other tables. Two tables away sat a pair of women a few years older than her. A dark-haired woman talked behind her hand and lifted her chin in Sharon's direction. The blonde looked at Sharon, frowned, and turned away.

In a moment, all that had happened in the past months filled her mind with a collage of impressions complete with scents, sounds, and sights. Linda, so excited about flying a Spitfire, then crash-landing her burning aircraft; the stink of her burning flesh. The first encounter with her father, and his death. Bullets from her guns falling into the cockpits of enemy bombers that exploded when they hit the ground. The sight and scent of blood dripping from the chin of her Spitfire. The exhilaration that came with surviving combat. Touching Sean's hand for the first time, then leaving him with Honeysuckle. It was at that moment that her mind began to process what she saw, what she felt, what she heard, and what she knew in a slightly yet significantly different way.

It'll be interesting leading people like this
.
After what I've been
through, why be afraid of them?
She stood, took her plate, and sat across from the two women.

“I don't know your names. Perhaps we could introduce ourselves?” Sharon looked down at the mutton, the marbled fat and the grey flesh.

The pilots looked at one another.

Sharon could see the sheen of sweat on the blonde's forehead. “Which one of you knows my uncle, Marmaduke Lacey, and his family?”

“How did you know that?” the dark-haired woman asked.

“I've met my uncle. I know how he operates. Hopefully, you will never have that pleasure.” Sharon got up, left her food, and walked outside, where she could watch the blackbirds chattering, swooping, and diving. She stayed there until the sun set, then went home and got dressed for her date.

CHAPTER 29

Sharon took a breather
after walking two miles along the
A
660 roadway heading northwest toward Ilkley. Sean, Linda, Honeysuckle, and — if no pressing emergency delayed him — Michael would be waiting at the Townsend Farm.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to surprise
them
. About eight hundred feet above her, the blue-grey clouds promised rain. She hefted the twenty-pound duffel bag. Its rope was rubbing a groove in her right shoulder. She was glad the bag was all that would fit in the luggage compartment in the back of the Spitfire she'd delivered to Leeds.