Beauty Chorus, The (40 page)

‘What is it?’ She ran outside, and froze with horror beside Evie. The chickens had gone. All that was left was a tangled mess of blood and white feathers, and in the centre of the
coop a single broken wing.

AUTUMN

42

The fields around White Waltham were a pale gold now against the sky. Horses and carts loaded down with hay trundled along as Evie drove to the airfield. They passed an orchard
where land girls in their brown dungarees were picking the last of the plums.

‘It’s such a shame Meggie’s not here to see the harvest,’ she said sadly. ‘We mustn’t let all her lovely fruit and veg go to waste. She was so proud of that
garden.’

‘Michael’s going to come over and give us a hand later. I said he could have some of the spare veg for the retirement home.’

‘Good idea.’ Evie turned the car into the airfield. ‘Any idea why Frankie wants to see us?’

Stella shook her head. ‘Nope, but I’m sure we’ll find out.’

Commander Francis sat behind the desk toying with a pencil, Doc Whitehurst at his side. Evie and Stella stood to attention in front of him, uniforms immaculate, arms clasped
behind their backs. ‘Miss Chase, you’re a girl with imagination. What do you think about using elephants instead of tractors to pull the planes?’

‘Elephants, sir?’

‘Yes. A local circus is closing up shop, and they have a couple of elephants for sale. One’s OK, the other one is a bit green.’

‘Green elephants, sir?’

‘Untrained. I thought we could recruit the mahout, give him an ATA uniform.’

Whitehurst shook his head. ‘They won’t let us do it, Frankie. They’ll come up with some lame excuse like the elephants will be dangerous if there’s a raid and they get
loose.’

‘We’ll see.’ His dark blue eyes twinkled. ‘Now, you girls recently lost a dear friend, Third Officer Jones. My condolences,’ he said. ‘It’s bad enough
losing a pilot in combat, but when it comes down to mechanical failure …’

‘Sir, I wanted to ask you about that,’ Evie said. Stella shot her a warning glance.

‘Yes, Miss Chase?’

‘There have been rumours of foul play on the base, that a person – or persons – are targeting the female pilots.’

Whitehurst leant forward on the desk. ‘Do you have proof?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well until you do I’d suggest you pay more attention to your job than to gossip, Miss Chase.’

Commander Francis folded his arms. ‘In my experience the male and female members of the ATA get along exceptionally well together, with a great deal of mutual respect. We are, I would dare
to say, a model example of modern thinking.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He sorted through a stack of papers. ‘In fact … Yes, here we are.’

He passed Evie a sheet of paper headed
ATA Headquarters Accidents Committee – Finding
. She read on:
T/O Megan Jones. Aircraft crash landed in field. Complete engine failure of
NEA P40 Tomahawk I. Pilot not responsible.
It was signed by the Chairman of the Accidents Committee.

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ she said quietly.

‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘And in the circumstances we have chosen to overlook the fact that she was not allocated the plane.’ Stella’s eyes fell as he turned his
attention to her. ‘As civilians, ATA pilots have ultimate responsibility to choose when they fly. It was Third Officer Jones’ decision. No one else is to blame. Now, the reason I asked
to see you today …’ He shuffled through some papers. ‘Here we are. You did exceptionally well on your conversion courses. You are both to be promoted to Second
Officers.’

Stella nudged Evie. ‘Does that mean we will be able to fly Spitfires like Winnie and Joan, sir?’

‘Yes, Mrs Grainger.’ He passed them both letters of confirmation. ‘Spitfires, Hurricanes and all the complex single-engine planes. You are both jolly good pilots. I have no
doubt in due course you will proceed to twin- and even four-engine planes. I have high hopes that Lettice and Joan will lead the way with those.’

Evie scanned her letter quickly.
On the satisfactory completion of your conversion course you are hereby promoted to Second Officer
. She noted a small pay rise and thought immediately of
a pair of shoes she had been coveting in Maidenhead.

As he walked them to the door he shook their hands. ‘Congratulations. Make Miss Jones proud.’

Evie was impatient to get in the air. After all those weeks of work in the classroom, today was the day. As the flight instructor wrote a series of figures on the blackboard
she leant over to Stella’s desk. ‘When are they going to let us loose on the bally Spits?’ she whispered.

‘Don’t be so impatient, Evie.’ Stella passed her a mint. ‘Not everyone picks things up as easily as you. It’s good to run over things one last time.’

Evie sat back in her chair and folded her arms.
Hydraulics, retractable undercarriages, braking systems, superchargers, speed propellers – we’ve been over this a thousand
times
, she thought.

The instructor turned to the class. ‘I know some of you chaps have already been flying Class 2s and Class 2+, but the Spitfire is a different ball game. When you get up in your first Spit,
we want you to do a simple climb, straight and level flight, then a series of climbs and descents with increasing rates of turn.’

‘I saw a fellow flying one upside down the other day, sir,’ one of the pilots cut in.

‘Yeees.’ The instructor sucked his teeth. ‘Let’s leave that to the test pilots shall we? What’s wanted from a fighter pilot and an ATA pilot are two different
things. No aerobatics from you chaps. Remember what you’re dealing with here – 1600 hp Rolls Royce Merlin engines in one of the most sensitive, responsive planes you will ever fly. All
we want you to do is get the planes safely from A to B.’ The instructor perched on the front desk. ‘To start with people often overcompensate, end up slinging the kite all over the
place. Now then …’ He checked his watch. ‘If you’d all like to go and get suited up, your aircraft are waiting for you.’

Evie did a little dance for joy in the cloakroom as she changed into her Sidcot suit. ‘Finally,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you excited?’

Stella laced up her boots. ‘Yes, a little nervous though.’

‘You’ll be fine.’ Evie dabbed Chanel behind each ear. ‘I bet you and Lettice will be flying Lancs by next spring.’

They heard their names called over the tannoy and raced out to the field. Evie’s heart was thundering in her chest as she walked towards her Spitfire. The early fog had cleared and the air
was crisp. It was a glorious autumn day with a clear blue sky, and the camouflage paintwork on her plane gleamed.

‘Your kite’s ready, Miss,’ the engineer said. ‘If you want to start her up, a couple of us will perch on the tail until you’re ready to take off. Mind you, give us
the signal though, I had a couple of chaps airborne last week because they didn’t jump off in time.’

‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’ Evie ran her hand along the curve of the wing and thought of the day with Jack. The voice of the instructor came back to her:
No
aerobatics
. ‘Yes sir,’ she said under her breath, and she fastened her flying helmet. Evie climbed up on the wing and leant against the canopy to slide herself into the cockpit.

The Merlin engines roared at first touch. Black smoke and a flash of flame shot from the exhausts near the propeller. Evie coughed, but the smoke soon cleared and the engine settled. It felt as
if the plane was as impatient to be in the air as her. She glanced behind her, waved the ground crew clear. They jumped from the tail. The Spitfire quivered, and she taxied forwards, getting a feel
for the stick, swinging the nose side to side so that she could see where she was going.

They’re right
, she thought.
You can’t see a damn thing on the ground with that cowling blocking your view.
She knew once the engine was running she had to get going
quickly. Spits overheated notoriously fast. As she took her place at the end of the runway for take-off, she eased the brakes.
Gosh, they are sharp
, she thought, and remembered the warnings
about how easy it is to pitch a Spitfire on its nose.
Easy does it
, she said under her breath.

Evie turned the Spitfire into the wind.
OK, here we go.
She ran through her checks:
hydraulics, throttle, fuel boosters on …
She felt the deep surge of energy as the engine
roared and the plane gathered speed. With a thrust she was airborne, the urgent acceleration of the plane matching the rush of adrenalin she felt. Once she was clear of the airfield she let out a
great whoop of delight, and pulled her canopy closed. Evie pumped up the undercarriage, and turned her full attention to the controls. ‘Right, let’s see what you can do little
Spitty,’ she said.

Flying felt effortless to her; it was as if her thoughts transmitted directly to the aircraft through her light touch on the stick. Evie soared above the countryside. She performed the requested
manoeuvres, aware that the instructor was watching from the ground. ‘Oh God, I could stay up here forever,’ she murmured as she brought the plane back into the circuit.
Right,
landing
, she thought, and ran through the drill.
Wheels down and pump. Green light on panel … down. Final approach speed 140 mph … There, that does it, spot on. Flaps down
… 80 mph, and we’re down. Not quite a three-pointer but we’re down
. Evie taxied over to her crew.
Throttle off, flaps up, radiator shutter open.
As she switched off
the engines the blood hummed in her ears.

Evie jumped out of her cockpit and ran to find Stella.

‘Well done, Miss Chase,’ her instructor called.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said.

Stella was checking the noticeboard, chatting to Miss Gold when Evie walked in.

‘How was it?’

‘Amazing. It was better than—’

Stella smiled broadly. ‘I know. But then it depends who’s flying, if you catch my drift.’

As the girls laughed, Teddy walked over. ‘Just the people I’m looking for. You’re cleared on complex singles now aren’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ they both said.

‘In fact,’ Evie said, putting her hands on her hips, ‘you still owe me ten bob, Teddy.’

He patted his pocket. ‘Wallet’s in my jacket. Remind me another time, eh?’ Teddy checked his clipboard. ‘Now, I need a pilot to deliver a Tempest to Cosford for me. Rush
job. Would you like to toss for it, or shall I toss for you?’ He licked his lips.

Evie frowned. ‘That won’t be necessary, Teddy. I’ve nothing on and Stella has a date, so I’ll take it.’

‘Jolly good.’

As Evie took the chit from his hand, she turned to Stella. ‘I should be back later, but it will give you a bit of time with Michael.’

Teddy folded his arms as Evie walked away. ‘Is that your vicar, Mrs Grainger?’

‘He’s not a vicar, he’s a curate.’

Teddy stepped uncomfortably close to her. ‘I haven’t met the chap, but I would have thought a red-blooded woman like you would have enjoyed the company of a real man.’ Teddy
shrugged as Stella held her ground. ‘Oh well, perhaps not.’ He began to walk away. ‘You are awfully clever, you know,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I don’t know
how you do it, getting the other girls to do your flights. Let’s hope Miss Chase is luckier than the unfortunate Miss Jones.’

43

Stella could not rest. She cleaned the cottage from top to bottom, frantically counting away the hours while Evie was out on her mission. Finally, at nightfall, as she sat in
the kitchen labelling jars of jam, she heard Evie’s voice, singing as she walked in through the door.

‘Am I glad to see you back.’

Stella was listening to Lord Haw Haw on the radio: ‘This is Jairmany calling
…
’

Evie smiled wearily. ‘I managed to get the last Anson back. I’ll tell you what, those Tempests aren’t nearly as much fun as the Spits. God, I’m dead on my feet. Is
everything alright?’

‘Yes. It was just something that hateful Teddy said.’

Evie dumped her bag by the door. ‘Ignore him, he’s a bully, that’s all.’ Evie raised her nose and sniffed. ‘Something smells delicious. Have you made a
crumble?’ She unfolded her handkerchief. ‘Look, I picked some blackberries on the way home. We could have put those in.’

Stella laughed and shook her head. ‘It’s not for us, unfortunately. You have a visitor.’

‘Beau?’

‘Poor thing has been hanging around all afternoon for you. He decided to take Monty out for a ride, and then he cooked something for him.’

‘Bran mash?’ Evie quickly raked her hands through her hair and checked her face in the mirror. She scooped up some of the blackberries and ate one, staining her lips with the
juice.

‘Go on.’ Stella shooed her through the back door. ‘He’s not going to care what you look like. I’ll make myself scarce. I’m meeting Michael at the cinema
– you’ve got the place to yourselves.’

Evie ran down the garden path towards the paddock. The last rosy rays of sunset washed the glass of the old greenhouse, and golden light spilled from the open stable door.
‘Beau?’ she called.

‘There you are.’ He turned to her. He was stripped to the waist, rubbing the horse down.

Evie noticed he was wearing a thick leather strap over the burn on his arm. ‘You look like a blacksmith,’ she said.

‘This?’ He flexed his arm. ‘I find it helps.’

As she walked into the stable, the warm smell of bran, molasses and apple perfumed the air. Both Monty and Beau were slicked with fresh sweat. ‘I think I’m jealous. Monty gets dinner
and a massage. What about me?’

Beau tossed the towel to the ground. ‘Come here,’ he said as he took her in his arms.

‘I’ve missed you.’

He glanced down at her hand. ‘What have you got there?’

She pushed one of the berries between his lips. ‘I’ve been foraging.’

When he kissed her, their lips tasted of sweet juice. ‘Eve, Eve, Eve …’ He whispered her name like a sigh. ‘God, I’ve missed you too. How have you been?’

‘Busy.’ Her gaze fell. ‘It’s the best way.’

‘It is. Though it still doesn’t stop me thinking about you day and night.’