The Hidden Women. Kerry Barrett

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       Chapter 3

      Lilian

      June 1944

      ‘That’s your brother isn’t it? And is that his wife?’

      Rose was peering over my shoulder at the photograph I kept stuck on the inside of my locker.

      ‘He looks like you, your brother.’

      I gave her a quick, half-hearted smile and reached inside my locker for my jacket.

      ‘And is that their little lad she’s holding?’ Rose went on, undeterred by my lack of responses. ‘What a sweetheart. He looks like you as well. You’ve all got that same dark hair.’

      Rose was one of the most infuriating people I’d ever met. Back when we’d been at school together my mum had told me to be nice.

      ‘She just wants to be your friend,’ Mum would say. ‘She’s not as good with people as you are.’

      Back then, I’d been one of the class leaders. Confident and a bit mouthy. Able to make anyone laugh with a quick retort, and to perform piano in front of all sorts of audiences. But that was before.

      I’d not seen Rose for a few years and I was finding her much harder to deal with now. For the thousandth time I cursed the luck that had sent my old school friend to join the Air Transport Auxiliary, and at the same airbase as me.

      I pulled my jacket out with a swift yank and slammed the locker door shut, almost taking off Rose’s nose as I did it.

      ‘Got to go,’ I said.

      I shrugged on my jacket, heaved my kitbag on to my shoulder, and headed through the double doors at the end of the corridor and out into the airfield. It was a glorious day, sunny and bright with a light wind. Perfect for flying. I paused by the door, raised my face to the sun and let it warm me for a moment.

      The airfield was a hubbub of noise and activity. To my left a group of mechanics worked on a plane, shouting instructions to one another above the noise of the propellers. Ahead of me, a larger aircraft cruised slowly towards the runway, about to take off. It was what we called a taxi plane, taking other ATA pilots to factories where they’d pick up the aircraft they had to deliver that day.

      My friend Flora was in the cockpit and she raised her arm to wave to me as she passed. I lifted my own hand and saluted her in return. A little way ahead, a truck revved its engine, and all around, people were calling to each other, shifting equipment and getting on with their tasks. I smiled. That was good. It was harder to organise things when it was quiet.

      Glancing round, I saw Annie. She was loading some tarpaulins on to the back of a van. Casually I walked over to where she stood.

      ‘Morning,’ I said.

      She nodded at me and hauled another of the folded tarpaulins up on to the van.

      ‘I’m going to Middlesbrough,’ I said, dropping my kitbag at my feet. I picked up one of the tarpaulins so if anyone looked over they’d see me helping, not chatting. ‘Finally.’

      She nodded again.

      ‘I’ve left the address in your locker with my timings,’ I went on. ‘She’s waiting to hear from you so send the telegram as soon as I take off.’

      ‘Adoption?’ Annie said.

      I nodded, my lips pinched together. ‘Older,’ I said. ‘Three kids already. Husband’s in France.’

      Annie winced. ‘Poor cow.’

      ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Her mum’s helping.’

      ‘How far along is she?’

      ‘About seven months. She reckons she can’t hide it much longer. I’ve been waiting for one of us to be sent up there.’

      Annie heaved the last tarpaulin on to the van.

      ‘Best get going then,’ she said.

      I gave her a quick smile.

      ‘Thanks, Annie,’ I said.

      A shout from across the airfield made me look round. ‘Lil!’

      One of the engineers was waving to me from beside a small single-engine Fairchild.

      ‘Looks like mine,’ I said to Annie.

      She gave my arm a brief squeeze. ‘It’s a good thing you’re doing here,’ she said.

      ‘You’re doing it too.’

      Without looking back at her, I picked up my bag and ran over to the plane.

      ‘Am I flying this one?’ I said. We all took it in turns to fly the taxi planes, but I did it more often than some of the others; I loved it so much.

      The engineer – a huge Welsh guy called Gareth who I was very fond of – patted the side of the plane lovingly.

      ‘You are,’ he said. ‘She’s a bit temperamental on the descent so take it easy.’

      I rolled my eyes. ‘Gareth,’ I said. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

      I opened the cockpit door and flung my bag inside.

      ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Take me through all the pre-flight checks.’

      I’d СКАЧАТЬ