The Spitfire Sisters Read online

  Margaret Dickinson

  The Spitfire Sisters

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  The Maitland Family

  The Dawson Family

  Cast of Characters

  One

  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

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Fifty-Two

  Fifty-Three

  Fifty-Four

  Fifty-Five

  Fifty-Six

  Fifty-Seven

  Fifty-Eight

  Fifty-Nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-One

  Sixty-Two

  Sixty-Three

  Sixty-Four

  Sixty-Five

  For all my family and friends for their love, encouragement and help through many years.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I wish to pay tribute to Mike Hodgson, who sadly passed away in October 2018. Mike, the founder of Thorpe Camp Visitor Centre at Tattershall Thorpe in Lincolnshire, acted as a guide on our coach trip to Belgium in 2016. His depth of knowledge about both world wars was remarkable and he generously shared his expertise with us all and continued to answer my many questions even after the trip. I am honoured to have known him and am sincerely grateful for all his help.

  As always, this is a work of fiction; the characters and plot line are all created from my imagination and any resemblance to real people is coincidental.

  I am very grateful to James and Claire Birch, of Doddington Hall near Lincoln, for allowing me to use their beautiful home as the setting and inspiration for this story, and also to the members of their team, who have been so helpful with my research over the last three years whilst I have been writing the Maitland Trilogy.

  My love and grateful thanks to the members of my family who have helped in various ways: Charles, Hilary, Alex and Matthew for taking us to Brooklands Museum and to Kew Gardens and for their help with my research there; and to Helen for reading the first draft.

  Once again, my special thanks to my fantastic agent, Darley Anderson, and his team, to my wonderful editor, Trisha Jackson, and to everyone at Pan Macmillan.

  Several sources have been valuable for research, most notably: Brooklands: The Official Centenary History by David Venables (Haynes, 2007); A Spitfire Girl by Mary Ellis, as told to Melody Foreman (Frontline Books, 2016); Spitfire Girl by Jackie Moggridge (Head of Zeus, 2014); Spreading My Wings by Diana Barnato Walker (Grub Street, 2003) and the Imperial War Museum at Duxford.

  The Maitland Family

  The Dawson Family

  Cast of Characters

  DODDINGTON

  Henrietta Maitland, owner of Doddington Hall and the estate

  Edwin Maitland, Henrietta’s husband, a retired local GP

  Robert Maitland, Henrietta and Edwin’s son, now the local GP

  Alice Maitland, Robert’s wife

  Daisy Maitland, Robert and Alice’s daughter

  Len Dawson, Alice’s father, the local wheelwright and blacksmith

  Norah Dawson, Alice’s mother

  Sam Nuttall, employed by Len Dawson

  Peggy Nuttall, Sam’s wife

  Luke Cooper, Peggy’s illegitimate son by Harold Dawson (deceased), who was Len and Norah’s son; Luke is Daisy’s cousin

  Harry Nuttall, Peggy’s son by Sam

  Bess Cooper, Peggy’s mother

  Charlie Cooper, Peggy’s father

  Betty Cooper, Peggy’s sister

  Clara Nuttall, Sam’s mother

  Conrad Everton, a local GP who is in partnership with Robert

  Florence Everton, Conrad’s wife

  LONDON AND WEYBRIDGE

  Pips Allender, Henrietta and Edwin’s daughter, Robert’s sister and Daisy’s aunt

  George Allender, Pips’s husband

  Milly Whittaker, Pips’s friend

  Paul Whittaker, Milly’s husband

  Mitch Hammond, Pips’s friend

  Johnny Hammond, Mitch’s nephew

  Jeff Pointer, employed by Mitch at The Hammond Flying School, based at Brooklands, near Weybridge

  BELGIUM

  William Dawson, Len and Norah’s son, and Alice’s brother

  Brigitta, William’s wife

  Pascal and Waldo, William and Brigitta’s sons

  One

  London, February 1933

  ‘You don’t mind Daisy coming to stay with us during the Easter school holidays, do you?’

  George Allender smiled at his wife. ‘Of course not, Pips. I’m extremely fond of her.’ His smile broadened. ‘She reminds me more and more of you.’ He chuckled. ‘She resembles her mother in looks but you in character, without a doubt.’

  Pips pulled a comical face. ‘I don’t think that’s a compliment to Daisy – certainly not in my mother’s estimation anyway.’

  Pips and George had been married for almost two years, which George freely acknowledged had been the happiest two years of his life. They had been lovers for several years before that, but their marriage had been ‘on hold’ for several reasons, the most insurmountable at the time being the disapproval of George’s daughter, Rebecca. But at last, the young woman had seen just how much the pair loved each other and had capitulated. Since then, Pips and Rebecca – not so far apart in age – had become good friends. She often stayed with them at their apartment in Clapham on her days off from her work as a nurse at the London Hospital, even though she had her own living accommodation near the hospital. Although Pips and George now spent most of their time in London, they frequently visited Pips’s family, the Maitlands, at Doddington Hall in Lincolnshire. Pips couldn’t let many weeks go by without seeing the niece she adored and catching up with all the latest village gossip.

  Pips pressed her hands together. ‘Good. I must make arrangements to take her to Brooklands whilst she’s here.’

  George’s smile faded a little. ‘And for a flight in one of Mitch Hammond’s aircraft, I suppose.’

  ‘Of course. It’s the highlight of a holiday with us.’ She met her husband’s gaze. ‘But I won’t break my promise. I won’t take her racing or start to drive again myself. We’ll just watch, as we always do. There’ll be a race meeting on Easter Monday. We’ll go then.’

  George sighed inwardly and, not for the first time, struggled with his conscience. Before they’d been due to marry in December 1930, Pips had promised him that she would no longer race her car at Brooklands after their marriage, though she would continue to go flying there. During the very last race in which she’d taken part, she’d had an accident on the track t
hat had left her unconscious for three days and it had meant that their wedding had been put off for a few months. She’d been nursed by Rebecca and that was when the girl had seen for herself her father’s devotion to Pips. And his name had been the first Rebecca had heard Pips utter when she had begun to regain consciousness.

  Despite her promise, George knew that Pips missed the excitement of racing. She was still an honorary member of a group of women who raced there – the Brooklands Girls, as they called themselves – but she met up with them now in a social capacity rather than as a participant alongside them on the track. Flying, however, was a different matter; she could not give up that, and, having gained her pilot’s licence, she was able to take Daisy flying too. George, who suffered acute airsickness, would not go with her, but Daisy loved it and longed for the day when she too could learn to fly.

  ‘So, we’ll go up to Lincolnshire on Friday evening for the weekend – weather permitting – and arrange everything. It’ll be something for us all to look forward to through the winter months. And besides, it’s high time I beat my dear brother at chess again. I’ll be losing my touch if I allow too many weeks to pass without challenging him.’ She paused and then asked, ‘Will you be able to take an extra day off from work so that we can make it a long weekend?’

  George pulled a face. ‘Last week I would have said “yes” without hesitation, but the news from Germany has put everyone in a bit of a flap. I’ll have to see what I can do.’

  George, a former major in the British Army, now worked in an advisory capacity at the War Office situated in a grand building on the corner of Horse Guards Avenue and Whitehall.

  Pips frowned. ‘News? What news?’

  ‘Adolf Hitler becoming Chancellor.’

  Pips stared at him in disbelief. ‘The little corporal who tried to seize power with Field Marshall Ludendorff in ’24?’

  George nodded. ‘The end of ’23, actually.’

  ‘But I thought Hitler got sent to prison.’

  George laughed wryly. ‘He did, but it was no more than a slap on the wrist. He was released after only nine months.’

  ‘And now he’s been made Chancellor? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Sadly, it’s true.’

  ‘We’ll have to tell Robert at the weekend. I wonder if he knows.’

  ‘I expect so. It’s been in the papers and he follows the national and international news avidly. Just as I thought you did. I’m surprised you didn’t know.’

  Pips smiled and moved to him, putting her arms around his waist and lifting her face to be kissed. ‘Why do I have to bother with the press when I have my very own handsome major to keep me informed?’

  Now in his late fifties and twenty years older than Pips, who would be thirty-nine later in the year, George was still a distinguished-looking man; tall and straight-backed with dark hair that was only just beginning to grey at his temples, a neat moustache and dark blue eyes.

  As he bent to kiss her, he marvelled yet again that this vibrant, strong-willed woman with her wonderful auburn hair and sparkling green eyes loved him and wondered, not for the first time, if he should release her from her promise and agree that she should race again. But now she no longer had a racing car of her own. To confirm her promise to George not to race, she’d sold her beloved Bugatti. ‘It’s all smashed up anyway,’ she’d said. ‘I’ll get Paul to do it up and sell it for me. I don’t want to see it again.’ Paul ran his own racing club, The Whittaker Racing Club, at Brooklands and was an expert mechanic.

  Now Pips owned a four-seater Ford and, although it got her from A to B, she hadn’t the same love for it as she’d had for her racing car. Pips drove expertly, but still a little too fast for George’s liking.

  On their journey to Lincolnshire that weekend, George clung onto the sides of his seat gallantly and said nothing. At Peterborough, Pips turned on to the quieter, rural roads and was obliged to lower her speed.

  ‘You can stop hanging on now, darling,’ she said merrily. ‘I can’t open her up on these roads.’

  It was dark by the time they turned into the entrance to the hall and drove up the long driveway, through the arch of the gatehouse to come to a halt outside the front door. Lights twinkled in welcome from several windows. Although Pips loved her life in the city with George, she always felt the thrill of coming home every time she saw, even through the darkness, the rectangular shape of the beautiful Elizabethan mansion that had been her family’s home for generations. Her mother, Henrietta Maitland, had inherited the hall and its estate from her childless uncle and she had always been at the heart of the small village of Doddington. With one main street and lanes running from it into the surrounding countryside, the village lay five miles west of Lincoln, and Henrietta’s estate provided employment for the locals, not only in the house itself but also in the gardens, parklands and on the farm too.

  For many years, ever since he’d moved into the hall on his marriage to Henrietta Schofield, Edwin Maitland had been the local doctor, holding surgeries in a side room at the hall, but now he was retired and had handed over the running of the practice to his son, Robert.

  As they climbed out of the car, Pips said, ‘They do know we’re coming. I telephoned to tell them . . .’

  As if on cue, the front door opened and light flooded down the steps.

  ‘Welcome home. Both of you.’

  Pips’s brother, Robert, stood at the top of the steps – a tall, straight-backed figure. His handsome face was in shadow, but, silhouetted against the light behind him, Pips could not help the familiar pang of regret when she saw the empty sleeve of his right arm tucked into his pocket. She ran lightly up the steps to hug him. George followed more slowly, tactfully holding out his left hand to shake his brother-in-law’s.

  ‘How are you, Robert?’

  ‘We’re all well, thank you. Come in out of the cold. Jake will bring your bags in. We didn’t hold dinner back as you told us you might be rather late, but Mother has arranged something on a tray for you. We’ll all sit in the parlour and we can talk whilst you eat.’

  ‘Aunty Pips!’ The gangly, fifteen-year-old girl came running down the long Great Hall and flung herself into Pips’s outstretched arms, followed more sedately by the rest of the family.

  ‘Daisy, darling.’

  Releasing herself from the excited girl’s bear hug, Pips kissed her mother, father and her sister-in-law, Alice, but it was still Daisy who held her attention. ‘Granny’s got Cook to make you some sandwiches and Sarah will bring tea in now you’re here. Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you.’

  ‘Daisy, dear, do calm down,’ Henrietta said, linking her arm through George’s and leading the way to the parlour. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t seen them for months.’

  Daisy’s blue eyes sparkled at her grandmother. ‘It feels like that, Granny.’

  Henrietta smiled indulgently. ‘Well, yes, I can see that.’

  Slim, with blue eyes and neat grey hair that was almost white now, Henrietta was normally very strict with what she considered ‘unladylike’ behaviour, but even she found it hard to be severe with Daisy for long. With black hair and dark blue eyes like her mother, Daisy was nothing like the quiet and reserved Alice in temperament. As everyone said, she was ‘just like Pips’. She was still chattering when they sat down in the parlour and the maid brought in freshly made tea and coffee for them all. Henrietta poured whilst Alice handed round the cups. There was certainly no chance of ‘children should be seen and not heard’ when Daisy was around.

  ‘Daddy lets me ride Samson on my own now, though I have to promise not to jump him yet.’ She was referring to the biggest horse in the stables; the horse that Pips normally rode when she was at home.

  ‘We’ll go riding tomorrow morning,’ Pips promised and then, with a mischievous twinkle, added, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t unearthed your father’s motorcycle yet.’

  Daisy pulled a face. ‘Jake and I got it out and he cleaned it up but’ – she glanced at h
er father with a cheeky grin – ‘I’ve got to wait until the end of the year when I’ll be sixteen.’

  ‘We’ll come for the birthdays as always,’ Pips said, ‘and see you ride it.’

  Daisy’s birthday fell on 1 December, three days before that of her cousin, Luke Cooper. Although Luke was two years older than Daisy, the two youngsters had always been close, both as cousins and as friends.

  ‘I’m very surprised,’ Pips said, ‘that Luke hasn’t wanted to ride it.’

  There was a slight pause before Daisy replied airily, ‘Oh, he has ridden it, Aunty Pips, several times.’

  Two

  As the family sat talking late into the night, all apart from Daisy, who had gone to bed, Pips said, ‘Now, tell me all the news.’

  Edwin smiled. ‘Not much has happened since you were last here at Christmas, though there is quite a bit of illness in the village and the surrounding district.’ He nodded towards his son. ‘The usual winter ailments. Robert and Conrad are being kept very busy.’ His eyes twinkled as he added, ‘I can’t say I’m sorry to be missing all the coughs and colds and influenzas. Retirement does have its compensations.’

  Conrad Everton and his wife, Florence, had moved into the village almost four years earlier when he had taken up the post of junior doctor to Robert on Edwin’s semi-retirement. They had fitted into the community very well. Conrad had served at the front as a doctor in the Great War and understood the occasional dark moods that Robert still suffered. Now, Edwin was more or less fully retired and only helped out in emergencies.

  ‘Alice, how are your family?’ Pips asked.

  There was a great deal of history between the Maitland and Dawson families that bound them irrevocably together. Alice, once lady’s maid to both Henrietta and Pips, had gone with her young mistress to the front in 1914 when Pips had insisted on accompanying her brother when he’d joined an independent flying ambulance corps to establish a post near the trenches to give much-needed first aid to the wounded as quickly as possible. But even amidst the horror, love had blossomed and Alice and Robert were now married. Alice had loved Robert in secret for years, but only during the time she had nursed him devotedly when he had lost his arm trying to bring wounded in from no-man’s-land did he fall in love with her. Though his mother had been against the match at first, Alice was now loved dearly by all the family and also by the servants with whom she had once worked. It was Alice’s own diplomatic and kind personality that had earned her a special place in the household.