Churchill's Angels Part 23

Hurrah. She heard the telephone ringing and, after a few seconds, a voice said, 'No 2 Rehabilitation Centre, Staff Nurse Hawkins speaking,' and Daisy had time to calm down.

'May I speak to Adair, I mean Squadron Leader Maxwell, please?'

'And who is calling, please?'

Should she give her rank? No, best not. 'Daisy,' she said, 'Daisy Petrie.'

'Hold on and I'll see if he's available.'

She heard brisk footsteps going away from the telephone and across a tiled floor, and she listened to silence while she tried to hear the hum of the wires that carried the messages. Then there came a shuffling sound and at last ...

'Maxwell here.'

'It's Daisy.'

No one could have mistaken the joy in his voice as he repeated, 'Daisy.'

'Are you feeling better?'

'Hearing your voice has ...' He stopped for a long moment and Daisy stayed listening to disembodied footsteps. 'Hearing your voice has made me feel ... wonderful. Are you well, Daisy? Are the courses going well?'

She told him about Corporal Singer's teaching. 'He's ever so patient but firm too, Adair, and he knows his engines.'

She stopped as she heard him laugh.

'Does he know his engines, my precious Daisy?'

'You're laughing at me. Some of them don't know them as well as they should to be teaching it, I mean.'

'I'm not laughing at you, Daisy Petrie, never. I'm laughing with joy, joy that you're part of my life. Oh G.o.d, here comes the dragon. I have to go. Be safe, Daisy Petrie.'

She stood, the cold black receiver pressed against her ear. 'The dragon'? Who was the dragon? The sister who had brought him to the telephone? Daisy smiled with happiness. She had had Frau Fuhrer, and he had his dragon. Frau Fuhrer had cared deeply for her charges and, no doubt, his dragon was just as caring.

It rained all day on Sat.u.r.day. Cycling and walking though gardens full of dripping trees did not fill any of the girls with enthusiasm. They agreed to leave the visit until a better day.

'Someone's teaching the rumba in the recreation hall,' Joan informed them. 'Either of you know how to rumba?'

Two blank faces looked up at her.

'Thought not. Right, let's get our raincoats and go over. Come on, Daisy, put that manual down. In fact, put it under your mattress till Monday morning. Auntie has spoken.'

'There is a test next Friday and we have to pa.s.s.'

'Can you read and write?'

'Of course.'

'Then you'll pa.s.s.'

Learning to do a proper rumba might be fun, Daisy decided, and she had danced with her sister and other female friends before. Happened all the time at church socials.

'Sounds good.'

She left the manual on top of her locker and followed Joan and Maggie out into the rain-swept road.

A few minutes later, they shrugged off wet coats in the recce hall and, to their surprise, saw that it was full of personnel, and many of them were men.

'Hey, hey, fabulous,' said Maggie. 'Let's find one with a sense of rhythm.'

Daisy had no chance to look for a partner, for she heard her name called. Hurrying across the width of the hall came Corporal Singer.

'h.e.l.lo, girls, nice to see you. Will you be my partner, Daisy?'

'Devil you know,' whispered Maggie as Daisy walked into the middle of the hall with her partner.

Maggie and Joan were preparing to dance together but were delighted to be approached by several men.

'Decisions, decisions,' laughed Maggie. 'OK, lads, step forward any lad who doesn't have two left feet.'

FIFTEEN.

The rumba cla.s.s was a great success.

Corporal Singer, whose name was Matt, was actually an extremely good dancer, and Daisy, who was quite inexperienced, soon discovered that a good partner made dancing fun. They danced to records, learning each step individually and then putting them together. She could see that her friends were also having a good time although, she decided judiciously, the airmen they were partnered with were not nearly as good as Matt. Both girls had worried less about dancing ability and more about the height of prospective partners as Maggie a.s.sured Daisy that dancing partners usually came up to her neck and Joan seemed always to be chosen by men who towered above her. On that first dancing cla.s.s they smiled happily, partnered by airmen of exactly the right height.

'Made to measure,' they said happily as all six sat out together during a break in the dancing and drank warm beer.

At the puzzled looks from the men, the girls just laughed. 'Don't worry, boys. All under control.'

Matt joined in the conversation and, during the remainder of the afternoon, danced with both Joan and Maggie. Daisy was never allowed to be a wallflower, and once or twice while she was dancing she saw Matt looking over at her. The look made her somewhat uneasy. It was almost as if he disapproved of her dancing with someone else.

Couldn't possibly be what he's thinking, she tried to rea.s.sure herself.

Matt himself made his feelings clear when he partnered her in a later dance. 'You're one of my trainees, Daisy, and you're doing well. I like you very much and you make a really good partner great balance but it wouldn't be good for us to dance together too often. I hope you understand.'

'Understand, Matt? Understand what?'

He held her uncomfortably close as he danced her round the hall. 'Don't want anyone thinking you got good marks because we're stepping out.'

Daisy was so surprised that she stopped dead, smack in the middle of the floor. 'But we're not.'

'Dance, Daisy, people are looking. I know we're not, and we won't while you're doing my course, but I thought week after next when the course is over, well, maybe you'd let me take you out.'

Daisy was not completely taken by surprise but she still had trouble answering immediately. To her relief, and Corporal Singer's annoyance, she was whirled out of his arms by another burly dancer.

'Smashin' dancer, pet. I bin watching you all afternoon. Want to sit out and have a beer?'

'No, thanks. I've had one and actually I have to go back to my hut ...' she tried to find an acceptable reason for leaving in the middle of the cla.s.s, '... because my mother's going to telephone.'

He took no offence. 'OK, pet, too bad, I'll see you another time.'

'Right.'

Daisy was grateful that her partner stopped trampling his way around the floor and led her over to the watching dancers. Joan was there, waiting for Maggie, who was dancing.

'Great fun, Daisy, but my feet can take no more. Are you ready to go back?'

'Maggie won't mind?'

'Of course not. Wave to her and let's get out of here.'

Daisy, with or without Matt's help, pa.s.sed the initial course and progressed to the second one. She learned nothing there that she had not learned either by trial and error or from working with Adair, and pa.s.sed again. She had managed to avoid meetings with Matt, and Joan and Maggie were very good at looking out for him.

'Intruder spotted,' they would whisper, and guide Daisy in the opposite direction.

'He's a nice chap, Daisy, and he's a corporal. What's the harm in going to the cinema with him or dancing? You dance really well together,' said Joan when the three young women were making the most of some free time to enjoy the glorious summer weather.

'He's too intense.'

'Lucky you. You afraid you won't be able to fight him off?'

Daisy rolled over onto her stomach on the gra.s.s. 'I have ... I had ... three older brothers; fighting off is not a problem. I just don't want to be ...'

'Stuck with him,' volunteered Joan.

'No, attached to anyone. I'm here to become a fully qualified mechanic. Right now that is the only thing that is important to me. I absolutely love working on an engine with the mechanics. Some of them are terrific.'

Maggie stopped making a daisy chain, leaned forward and set it on Daisy's head. 'There, lovely. Anyone take you up yet?'

'Who, what do you mean, take me up? In a plane you mean?' They could not know about Adair. Surely not.

'Of course in a plane. There's a very tasty pilot, in fact there are several very tasty pilots, who are so grateful for the hard work we WAAFs put into keeping their birds airworthy that, occasionally, just occasionally, they have been known to check the engine out with a pa.s.senger on board.'

'Is that legal?'

'Legal or allowed? Have absolutely no idea, but the first time one of them asks me ...' she waited, watching their faces, started to laugh and finished, '... I'll say no.'

'You're insane. A flight with an air force pilot? I'd say yes and jump in before he could change his mind. What about you, Daisy, would you go up, if one of the pilots asked?'

This was her time to be honest, to tell them that not only had she already had a flight but also several flying lessons. She said nothing but her mind was working ferociously. What if they didn't believe her? What if they believed her but thought she was boasting?

'If it takes you that long to decide, Daisy, then I rather think you're not up for it. Someone in our village once flew to France on holiday. Can you believe it? There wasn't another topic of conversation for weeks. Holidays by air. Close your eyes and picture yourself flying to, say the Bahamas, and standing at the top of the stairs in the smartest little white costume because of the glorious weather and then walking down the steps like-'

'"The man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo,"' sang Joan, and they all laughed.

The summer went on and the crops in the Buckinghamshire fields ripened steadily. All the time Daisy and her friends worked and studied and moved, step by step, nearer to the great day when they would become accredited aircraft engineers.

Daisy was known to be one of the best mechanics and several of the pilots were very pleased when she was working on their planes. She went up with two of them but neither offered to let her handle the controls. Yet she felt that each time she went up in a plane, watching the manoeuvres of a competent pilot, was worthwhile.

Tomas flew in once or twice and was able to take her up once.

'My pa.s.senger will be here for two hours, Daisy, and I have permission to practise a manoeuvre and to take a trainee mechanic up to listen to my engine.'

'And I'm the mechanic?' She could scarcely believe it.

'I can't hand over to you but if you listen well, you will be learning. Besides that, though, certain people of importance know about you, Daisy. You are being watched. Not all are convinced that a woman can make or even should make a good pilot. Walk very carefully. We are, what is the phrase, sticking the neck out?'

She certainly wanted no one, especially not Adair or Tomas, to be in any trouble over her ambition.

Daisy was so busy that she had no time to check Wednesday's post until she was on her way to bed. Her heart seemed to flip right over as she saw that there was a note from Adair. She knew his writing and even the type of envelopes he used and, although she longed to open it up and read, she held it to her heart for a long moment.

This is silly, Daisy Petrie. You're like one of them foolish girls in the films, always mooning around after some fella. Read the letter.

At first the letter disappointed her as there were only three lines.

Daisy Be at the call box at nine thirty on Thursday evening. Please.

Adair On Thursday she could scarcely keep her mind on her work. Adair was going to ring her. She would hear his voice. The thought filled her with delight. But then she wondered at the urgency of the note. Why was he calling and why had he not said why in the note? No time to add more? He was going away, that was it. He had been posted to ... she had no idea where but somewhere far away, Scotland, perhaps. Would she miss him? Of course she would.

But, as it is, you don't see him very often, not once since he returned to active duty, she argued with herself. Why would you miss someone you never see anyway? Because you ... she stopped. What had she been about to say? But that too was silly, because you cannot love someone there she had said the word if you never see him.

'Petrie,' yelled a voice in her ear, startling her so that she almost fell off her perch on the Spitfire. 'The Spitfire engine is not a delicate, fragile machine and can, take my word for it, tolerate a great deal more elbow grease than you're giving it. Be good enough to start all over again.'

'Yes, Sergeant, sorry, Sergeant.'

It was not her finest hour.

She resolved to keep her mind engaged on the aircraft engine without bringing any more ire down on her head and so she ruthlessly banished any thoughts of Adair Maxwell until suppertime. With Joan and Maggie she walked up to the canteen.

'Nearly ran screaming out of the hangar today,' confessed Joan, and her friends looked at her in some surprise.

'Why?'

'The noise. I thought, if one more WAAF starts sc.r.a.ping away with a file, I'll run them through with the d.a.m.ned thing.'

'Joan Boyd!' The others pretended shock.

'How many d.a.m.n planes with d.a.m.n trainees filing away important bits can they get in a hangar? Sc.r.a.pe, sc.r.a.pe, sc.r.a.pe; every sc.r.a.pe rattled my teeth.'

By the time they had calmed Joan and eaten supper it was time for Daisy to walk up to the telephone booth. She managed to appear nonchalant as she tried not to run in her anxiety to reach it. And then she stopped in despair. Someone was already chatting happily and feeding pennies into the machine. She looked at her watch. No one could speak for seven minutes, could they?