Isabella’s Airman (4 page)

Marc Gallagher—Lt.—

“Well,” murmured Juliet. “The scary
ghardian
is offering you counselling. He doesn’t sound so bad.”

“He’s probably just making sure I don’t make any terrible mistakes and disgrace our families.” Like falling in love with someone.

I was busy in the kitchen all afternoon, not escaping until after we’d had dinner. It was another lovely, warm evening, with only wisps of high cloud in the sky and the moon even closer to full. It seemed very likely they’d be flying tonight, and the thought made me shiver.

Juliet and I went back to our room. I lay on my bunk and pretended to read a period novel, while she adorned her fingernails with foul-smelling pink lacquer. “There.” She waved a hand under my nose. “Don’t they look pretty?” I grunted in reply. “All the girls will have their nails painted at the dance on Friday. Would you like me to do yours?”

Before I could reply, a low rumble sounded outside, and I froze. When the rumble increased to a throaty roar, I scrambled down from my bunk and fumbled for my shoes. “They’re leaving.” Juliet followed me as I charged down the stairs, along the hallway, and outside. I ran around the building to the grassy bank that overlooked the main runway and stopped. The breath jammed in my lungs.

The massive Wellington bombers were on the move, trundling forward, the first one gathering speed and about to leave the ground. It was still daylight, though only just, with the moon already high. The planes, silhouetted against the fading light, looked primeval. Giant black monsters that would rain fire and death on thousands of innocent people.

“There’s C-Charlie.” Juliet snapped me out of my stupor. She waved, her entire arm swinging, and I followed. We weren’t the only ones watching them take off. Several WAAFs and uniformed men stood nearby, waving to the crews as they eased into the sky. Even without meaning to, I found myself counting them as they left. C-Charlie was fourth to go. Ten in total.

We watched until the last one was just a speck in the sky, its engines a faint rumble in the distance. I sagged at the knees and had to sit on the grass, my heart racing as though I’d been running. How did they do this? I knew they flew twice, sometimes three times each week. Many did not return. When they had been numbers on a page, it had been different. They had names now, and faces. The crews were real people.

Nausea rose and burned my throat when I swallowed it down. The WAAFs had dispersed, the men too, and there was only myself and Juliet left. For once, she didn’t have much to say.

•●•

I slept badly again, waking at every slight noise. I’d listen, accept it wasn’t the bombers returning, and then try to doze some more. Eventually a familiar noise permeated into my tired brain. An engine. I opened heavy eyelids and forced myself out of bed, grabbing a dressing gown to cover my pajamas. I didn’t bother with shoes. Behind me, I heard Juliet stumbling down the stairs.

We made it to the grass mound just as the first Wellington was landing on the runway, and I waited until all ten had returned. It took close to an hour before they were all safely on the ground, long minutes filled with flashing signal lights, trucks, and voices in the distance. Juliet slumped against me, half asleep, and I wrapped my arms around her to keep us both warm. It was too dark to tell which plane was Davy’s, but I knew he was back.
Safe
. The anxious knot in my chest loosened a fraction, and I staggered back to bed, half dragging my friend with me.

•●•

I yawned all through the morning chores and fretted when Juliet told me neither Teddy nor Davy had appeared at breakfast. Common sense reminded me the crews would all be sleeping late.

I was really thinking far too much about Davy Porteous. There were a dozen reasons I should distance myself from him, but the minute he appeared at the kitchen door, I forgot all of them.

It wasn’t three o’clock yet. Was he canceling? I wiped my damp palms on the baggy overall I wore and went to speak to him. Standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets and a curving smile on his face, he looked pleased to see me. “Hullo, Isabella. I wanted to see if you were still coming out this afternoon?”

Relief coursed through me. “Hullo, Davy.” My voice came out scratchy. “And yes.”

“If you don’t mind a little walk, there’s a nice tea shop in Beck Row.” He shrugged, his eyes never leaving my face. “If it’s too far, we could just stay here.”

What did he see when he looked at me? I knew my hair was escaping down the back of my neck, my cheeks were blushing a dark red, and my overalls made me look shapeless. I didn’t have Juliet’s quick laugh or her ready chatter. He waited for my answer, and I managed a smile. “The tea shop sounds nice.”

“All right.” He stared at me some more. “Meet you by the gate at three?”

•●•

I watched Juliet setting off with Teddy to ride on his motorbike and wondered how she was so confident, while I walked in her shadow. Like everything she did, I’d no doubt she’d be a successful historian. If she put her mind to it, she could probably live in any time period and adapt perfectly—while I struggled to cope with the fundamentals. My stocking clasps refused to fasten. Again.

Battling with my clothing made me late, and I had to run across the grass to the main gate, arriving flushed and out of breath. Davy stood waiting for me, hands in his pockets as usual. How would he look out of uniform? And why was I even asking myself that question?

We set off at a gentle pace, and Davy asked how my day had been. There wasn’t much I could say to make kitchen work sound interesting, and I hesitated. “It’s been busy,” I muttered. “How was it last night?”

His lips curved upward. “Busy.” Was he laughing at me? I felt the familiar heat rise to my cheeks and spread down my throat. “I should apologize for teasing, but you’re very pretty when you blush.”

Oh
. I covered my cheeks with my hands.

“But in answer to your question, last night was uneventful.” He quirked his brows. “A lot of doing nothing.”

Come on, Isabella, talk to him.
I fell back on a question. “How long have you been here?”

“At Mildenhall?” I nodded. “Since January. I’ve flown twenty-six ops so far.”

I felt more at ease talking about data, and I relaxed a fraction. Here was my opportunity to learn the reality about the bombing campaign of Europe. My knowledge so far was limited to numbers on a page: 55,000 aircrew lost, out of approximately 125,000. Right now though, the war was in its infancy. The Americans had yet to join the allied forces, and Britain still had three years of fighting ahead.

“Twenty-six? With the same crew?”

“Aye. Flight Lieutenant Marshall is a good captain. We feel safe with him.” He gave a short, awkward-sounding laugh. “Lady Luck plays a big part, though.”

It took an effort, but I pushed away the knowledge Lady Luck was about to turn away from Davy and his crew, and I forced myself to focus on the here and now. “What a lovely afternoon for a walk. Do you go here often?”

The question sounded stilted to my ears, but Davy flashed me a smile, as though grateful for changing the subject. “Aye. They raffle a chocolate cake every week, or what passes for chocolate these days. I sometimes buy a ticket.”

“Do you like cake?” It didn’t exist in my time. I’d no idea what it would taste like.

“I love my mum’s cakes. She also makes the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted.” His eyes darted to me, bright and full of mischief. “Tart Bramley apples, melt-in-the-mouth soft, in thick, buttery pastry. Sugar sprinkled over the top. Hot from the oven, with a puddle of yellow cream by the side.” He smacked his lips together. “Does it get any better?”

“Are you sure you want to be a doctor? Sounds like you could be a chef.”

“Ha. You’re just envious. Next time I go home on leave, I’ll bring a slice back for you.”

“How often do you go back?”

“Not since last year.” He glanced at me and smiled when he saw me looking at him. “After I’ve completed this tour, I’ll be grounded for a few months before I can sign on for the next. If I’m lucky, I’ll get home then. And you know what, Isabella?” He reached across and tucked my arm in his, instantly bringing me closer.