A Wedding for the Spitfire Girl Read online

  The Spitfire Girl Series

  The Spitfire Girl

  The Spitfire Girl in the Skies

  A WEDDING FOR THE SPITFIRE GIRL

  Fenella J. Miller

  AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS

  www.ariafiction.com

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Fenella J. Miller, 2019

  The moral right of Fenella J. Miller to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781788548410

  Aria

  c/o Head of Zeus

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  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.ariafiction.com

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One: January 1942

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Become an Aria Addict

  For my beloved husband. Always in my heart.

  One

  January 1942

  Ellen Simpson. Her name was on the list to attend a conversion course at White Waltham in order to become qualified to ferry light twin-engined aircraft. Ellie turned to her friend Amanda who was also included.

  ‘I hope we don’t get any more snow. I know it will be helping the war effort to be able to fly a bigger range of planes, but I love flying Spitfires. Do you think we’ll still be able to deliver them afterwards or will the other girls take over?’

  ‘Whilst we’re based here, I should think the bulk of our work will still be fighter planes as Southampton is where most of them are built. I was told we’ve got to shift three hundred thousand Spitfires in the next few months as the factory is too vulnerable to attack,’ Amanda said.

  ‘That can’t be right – whoever told you that must have meant three thousand. The air transport auxiliary service might be efficient but we’d all have to deliver hundreds of Spitfires each in order to clear that many.’ Ellie laughed with her friend.

  ‘Of course, how silly of me. It doesn’t matter how many it is, we’ve obviously got a lot of work ahead of us.’

  There were two other girls scheduled to go to White Waltham with them but they weren’t back from yesterday’s delivery so hadn’t heard the good news.

  Since the Yanks had joined in the fight, the atmosphere at the all-female Hamble ferry pool had been more cheerful – not that any of the girls moped about, however bad the news.

  Already the US servicemen were pouring into the country but as yet she’d seen none of them. There were, so she was told, American women joining the ATA along with other female pilots from all over the world.

  She had joined last year and was one of the more experienced flyers. Already the original eight were delivering bombers and now she thought about it, she was long overdue to do this conversion course herself. The fact that she was the youngest member, despite having the most hours logged, was probably why she’d not been put forward until now.

  ‘Amanda, you joined almost at the beginning – why haven’t you been sent before this?’

  ‘No idea, but after I blotted my copybook last year I think I was deliberately overlooked. Despite Margot and Pauline’s assurance that they were on my side I think Margot didn’t want to upset her friends. Telling the world about how that bitch tricked your fiancé into marrying her made me rather unpopular.’

  ‘Please, don’t remind me. I’ll never forget Greg. I loved him so much, but he’s gone and what that dreadful woman did to us is in the past. Jack’s home now and I’m going out with him.’ Even as she said this, she knew Jack would never mean the same to her as Greg had done.

  ‘It’s amazing how the lack of his left hand makes so little difference to his flying. He’s the redheaded hero of the ATA.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true. Isn’t the commanding officer at White Waltham the man all the girls dream about? When he was seen without his shirt last summer it was the talk of the pool.’

  ‘He is a bit of a heartthrob but your Jack’s just as attractive and half the women here are a little bit in love with him.’

  ‘I don’t blame them – I am too.’

  ‘Then what’s holding you back?’

  ‘He’s not the same man he was before the accident. I always loved his sense of fun. We used to sit and talk for hours, but now he’s so much quieter I don’t think I really know him any more.’

  ‘Give him a chance – he’s obviously besotted with you. If I wasn’t already having an affair with Nigel, I’d jump into bed with him if he offered.’

  A year ago she’d have been shocked by such plain speaking, but since Greg had died without them having slept together she viewed things differently. ‘Hands off: he’s mine. I’ve only seen him twice since he got back last December – we’re both so busy and White Waltham is miles away from here. Our days off haven’t coincided so far but as soon as they do, he’ll be staying at the cottage with us.’

  ‘How will you feel about being eventually promoted above him? If we’re cleared to fly the light twin-engined operational aircraft then we’re bound to go onto the heavy class and then we’ll be ranked higher. I doubt that he’ll ever get above third officer. With only half an arm he won’t be able to fly anything but fighters.’

  ‘It won’t bother me and I don’t think it will worry him either. He was a squadron leader when he was demobbed – so as far as I’m concerned, he’ll always outrank me.’

  ‘What about Wing Commander Hugo Lambourne? Didn’t you get a phone call from him the other day?’

  ‘I did, but I told him I was no longer available, that I was now going out with Jack and couldn’t see him again.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. He said if I changed my mind and things didn’t work out as I’d hoped to get in touch.’

  ‘Two strings to your bow? Actually, I think if I was in your position I’d do exactly as you’re doing and give Jack a test flight. If he fails to live up to expectations then you can always move on.’

  Ellie couldn’t prevent her cheeks from turning pink. She was trying to be sophisticated, talking blithely about sleeping with Jack at the earliest opportunity, but if she was honest she thought doing this would just complicate matters. Initially she’d regretted that she’d never made love with Greg, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Her views might be considered old-fashioned by her friend but she would much rather wait until she was at least engaged to Jack before taking the next step.

  ‘Unlike you, I’ve no experience in that area to compare him with. In fact, the more I think about it the more certain I am that I’ll wait. Hopping in and out of bed with a string of handsome officers might suit you…’

  ‘Hang on a minute – I resent that remark. You make me sound like a floozy…’

  ‘I’m sorry, but you do have different views on the subject. I’m an old-fashioned girl and not quite ready to step into the modern world if it means behaving…’

  Amanda’s eyes narrowed. This was the first row they’d had and Ellie didn’t want to fall out with her. She grabbed her arm before either of them could say something they’d regret.

  ‘Please, I’m sorry. I sound like my mother and I promise you I don’t really believe any of that nonsense. I’m just nervous about making a commitment. I do find Jack very attractive though.’

  ‘He’s been through a lot. Which brings me back to the fact that you’re almost bound to meet up with him as he’s based where we’re going.’

  ‘I’m glad we’ve talked about it as it’s got things straight in my head. Fortunately, I’ve not said anything about spending the night with him. We’ve kissed a few times but he didn’t make a move to take things further when we were together over Christmas.’

  ‘Golly! I should hope not – not under your parents’ roof.’

  ‘It was quite embarrassing as Mabel and Dad kept leaving us alone together and I think they were expecting us to announce our engagement after spending just two days together.’

  ‘You’ve known him for two years and were already good friends. He was in love with you whilst you wer
e still with Greg – I expect he’s happy to wait until you’re ready.’

  ‘We’d better get a move on; the Anson is waiting on the apron. We’ll be able to fly the taxi when we come back but only if it’s empty. How do you feel about that?’

  ‘As long as I’m flying, I don’t care what it is.’

  They ran to the locker room and quickly pulled on their flight suits, boots and helmets and then snatched up their parachutes. Lugging this lot at high speed across the tarmac, as well as their overnight bags, was hard work but they’d been doing it for so long they didn’t think twice.

  They scrambled into the aircraft and took the remaining seats at the rear. Talking was impossible whilst in flight because of the racket, so Ellie settled back to mull over what they’d been discussing. Maybe Jack would be off base whilst they were there and the question wouldn’t arise.

  *

  Jack, having his own cycle, was usually first to arrive at his base. Pointless really, as often it didn’t get light enough to fly until after nine o’clock. He’d joined the ATA a couple of months ago and so far had had no difficulty flying even the most damaged Spitfires and Hurricanes. With only one arm, flying single-engine fighters was a doddle but he doubted he’d ever graduate to twin engines.

  He was resigned to his limitations and as long as he was doing his bit for the war effort, most of the time he was just grateful he was alive. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the Yanks arriving and acting as if they were God’s gift. They didn’t have a bloody clue about how things were in England at the moment. Their home country had never been bombed or endured rationing and blackouts.

  The ops room guys and gals were always there early as they had to organise the pilots’ duties and write the chits that would send them off to deliver and collect whatever kites needed to be ferried about the place. The weather was dire, as soon as one lot of snow thawed and life went back to normal a second cold front rolled in and it all started again.

  He’d been fortunate to get an extra day’s leave over the Christmas period and had been able to spend it with Ellie at Glebe Farm. Her parents, Fred and Mabel, were his family now and he had their support in his wish to marry their daughter. His mood lightened a little as he thought about the woman he loved. She didn’t feel the same way about him, wasn’t in love with him, at least not how she had been with Greg.

  He sat nursing his mug of tea. The more he dwelt on the situation the more fed up he was. He couldn’t have competed with a ghost even with both arms – what bloody chance did he have now?

  ‘Reynolds, for God’s sake, man, wake up. You’re wanted on the blower.’

  Jack slopped his tea and swore. ‘Right, coming, I wasn’t asleep – was thinking – not something you do much of.’ His grin took the sting from his words. Billy Walker had become a good mate of his, although anyone listening to them would think they were deadly enemies.

  One of the girls in the operation room handed him the phone. He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. Whoever it was obviously hadn’t identified themselves – he’d hoped it might be Ellie.

  ‘Reynolds here. To whom am I speaking?’

  ‘Jack Reynolds? Former Squadron Leader Reynolds?’

  ‘Yes. Who the hell are you?’

  The rich, plummy voice continued as if he’d not interrupted. ‘You are required to report to Oriel College, Oxford, immediately.’ The line went dead leaving Jack staring in astonishment at the receiver.

  What the blazes was that all about? He could hardly abandon his duties here and scuttle off to Oxford. He’d have to speak to the pool commander before he did anything else. The chits were already being spread out on the shelf outside this room and he didn’t have to look at them to know that he’d have at least half a dozen ferrying jobs allocated to him.

  Frankie Francis, pool commander, met him at the door. ‘Good show, was coming to find you. There’s a car outside for you. You’re off the rota for today.’

  ‘Some toffee-nosed guy, who refused to identify himself, told me to report to Oriel College. What for?’

  ‘Buggered if I know, old chap. Something hush-hush, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Bloody hell, that’s all I need. Don’t fancy being mixed up with the SIS or any of the intelligence brigade. Hopefully, they’ve got the wrong guy and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  Sure enough a brown job was standing by a large, black car. The soldier saluted – not necessary as, although he was an officer in the ATA, this was a civilian operation. He didn’t return the gesture, just nodded and jumped into the back.

  Frankie was the best-looking guy in the ATA – he seemed oblivious to his charms and Jack had rarely seen him in the company of any of the hopeful young ladies who swarmed around him.

  It was only twenty miles or so to Oxford and the worst of the snow had been cleared by the soldiers who had very little to do at the moment. As soon as Frankie had mentioned it being hush-hush, he’d guessed what this was about.

  Joe Cross, his uncle, had given him Glebe Farm Aero Club just before the war started, and had been involved in dodgy dealing. Joe had died two years ago in jail and Jack was no longer in contact with his aunt. He had never known exactly what his uncle had been incarcerated for – but he was damned sure it was something to do with blackmail and Mosley’s lot. All the fascists had been rounded up now as far as he knew.

  Ellie’s mother had buggered off to live with her own father, Sir Reginald Humphrey, and she and Fred had been divorced. He was now happily married to Mabel and since Ellie’s eldest brother Neil’s funeral none of the Simpson family had had any contact with the fascist bastard Humphrey.

  At one point everyone at Glebe Farm had expected to be arrested, but fortunately this hadn’t happened. The more he thought about it the more convinced he was that this unexpected summons to Oxford was something to do with what had happened back then.

  He frowned. There was another brother, George, who had sided with his grandfather and mother – he hoped for Ellie’s sake her estranged family weren’t going to drag her into something unsavoury. He didn’t give a damn about his reputation, but if the woman he loved was damaged by something his uncle had set in motion he would be appalled. Perhaps it would be better for both of them to stop seeing each other until whatever was going on was sorted.

  There were very few private cars on the road nowadays – petrol rationing had seen to that. Therefore, apart from military vehicles of various sorts, he didn’t see much traffic and the vehicle entered Oxford sooner than he’d expected.

  He looked around with interest, never having been to this university town before. Students on bicycles, their black gowns flapping behind them, showed that life went on more or less as usual here. The car pulled up in front of an impressive archway.

  The driver jumped out and opened the door for him as if he was someone important. If the guy only knew the real reason for his being here, he wouldn’t be so polite. The car roared off leaving Jack standing in front of the college, not sure where he should be.

  A young man in mufti rushed up to him. ‘Squadron Leader Reynolds? Excellent, please come with me. I apologise for not being here to greet you but you’re earlier than we expected.’

  Jack followed and was led across the quad and into the hallowed hall itself. Strangely there were students and professors wandering about the place as well. If this was the home of some secret service or other it seemed odd that they were sharing the accommodation with regular guys.

  ‘It’s the third door on the left, sir.’ His guide vanished, leaving him to make his own way, and he was still none the wiser as to why he was there.

  *

  The Anson juddered to a halt on the tarmac at White Waltham. Ellie had been here before when she’d delivered and collected aircraft but this was the first time that she’d had the opportunity to look at it properly.

  ‘It’s very posh. Was it built especially for the ATA?’ She asked Amanda who tended to know the answers to these sorts of questions.

  ‘It was a Flying Training School and built a few years ago but we’ve booted them out and taken it over.’

  ‘I heard talk that they’re going to build us a better home this summer. With so many more women joining we’re going to need a bigger place.’ Ellie pointed at the building ahead of them. ‘Look at the size of their operations room – they must have a dozen people working in there.’