The Spitfire Sisters Page 3

  ‘You’ll have to work on him,’ George said. ‘Your granddad, I mean. Luke’d be very welcome to come and stay with us.’

  Daisy nodded. ‘I will, but I don’t think he’ll let him go to Belgium with us again in the summer.’

  ‘No. Sadly, I think you’re right there. Will your father come, d’you think?’

  Daisy pulled a face. ‘Mummy and I are working on him. What about you, Uncle George? You’ll come with us, won’t you?’

  ‘I – think so.’ He smiled across at Pips. ‘As long as I have your aunty at my side, I can face it.’

  There was a pause as they watched the passing countryside until Daisy said, ‘Will we see Aunty Milly today? I do like her. It was so nice of her to ask me to be her bridesmaid.’

  Pips chuckled. ‘She thought you did such a great job as mine.’

  ‘Hasn’t she got anyone else? I mean, I know you’re her best friend, and all that, but I’d have thought . . .’ Daisy’s voice trailed away.

  Pips shook her head. ‘Milly is an only child and she doesn’t seem to have any close family. I think she has a distant cousin living in Derbyshire, or is it Sheffield now? I forget. But the families don’t keep in touch. And besides, she’s very fond of you.’

  ‘She looked so pretty on her wedding day, but you were beautiful,’ Daisy added loyally.

  Pips laughed. ‘Kind of you to say so, but, yes, Milly made a lovely bride. She’s got such big blue eyes and with her blond curls, she always looks just like a pretty china doll.’

  ‘She’s a bit scatty though, isn’t she? Granny says she was what they called a “flapper” in the twenties. Were you one too?’

  ‘For a while. It was Milly who introduced me to the wild parties and the merrymaking in London and, of course, it was she who took me to Brooklands.’

  ‘But she doesn’t race, does she?’

  Pips shook her head. ‘No, but she’s an honorary “Brooklands Girl”, like I am now.’

  The Brooklands Girls were a group of women racers, who for many years had not been allowed to race under the auspices of the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club, but several private clubs who raced at the track, one of them being owned and operated by Milly’s now-husband, Paul Whittaker, did allow women to race, either in all-women races or alongside men. Pips had raced with them during the 1920s.

  As the train drew into the station, Pips chuckled. ‘I quite understand how Milly must appear to you, but never forget what she did in the war.’

  Solemnly, Daisy nodded. ‘I won’t, Aunty Pips. That’s how you met, isn’t it, when she came out to the front to help nurse the wounded?’

  Pips nodded. ‘She knew very little about nursing when she arrived, but if anyone could cheer up the injured, it was Milly Fortesque as she was then.’

  ‘And now we must call her “Mrs Whittaker”.’

  ‘Oh, I think she’ll be quite happy for you still to call her “Aunty Milly”.’

  Milly was there on the platform and, as George helped Pips and Daisy from the train, she ran forward, her arms outstretched. ‘Dahlings!’

  She hugged them in turn and then linked her arm through Pips’s. ‘There’s such a lot of excitement today. They’ve finished some repairs to the track just in time for today’s meeting and – guess what? Sir Malcolm Campbell has brought his famous Bluebird, the car he drove to get the new World Land Speed Record at Daytona in February. He’s going to demonstrate it on the outer circle but he won’t race – or even go very fast – because of the track surface. But isn’t it exciting just to see his car?’

  ‘Is Uncle Paul racing?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘Yes. He’s in two races, but doesn’t expect to win. There’s someone here with a Maserati that’s just a little bit too good. Anyway, let’s go to the clubhouse. The girls are all there. Muriel’s racing later too. And Pattie.’

  All Pips’s friends greeted Daisy warmly and Paul hugged her hard.

  ‘How’s my favourite bridesmaid?’

  Daisy laughed. ‘Uncle Paul, I was your only bridesmaid.’

  Milly’s husband was a good-looking, fair-haired man with a firm jawline, an honest face and blue eyes that twinkled down at her. ‘That doesn’t stop you being my favourite.’

  ‘Where’s Uncle Mitch?’ Daisy asked, looking round. ‘I want to ask him if he’ll take me flying whilst I’m here.’

  ‘He’ll arrange a flight for you, darling, I’m sure,’ Milly said. ‘He won’t take you himself, as you well know, because he doesn’t believe in flying – or teaching – family or close friends. But I’m sure Jeff will take you up.’

  Jeff Pointer worked for Mitch as a pilot and instructor for The Hammond Flying School based at Brooklands and had taught Pips to fly.

  Milly put her arm around Daisy’s shoulders. ‘Come on, darling, let’s go and find him. He’s around here somewhere.’

  They found Jeff talking earnestly to Mitch at the far end of the room. Standing with them was a boy with the same dark brown eyes and black hair as Mitch, listening intently to their conversation.

  ‘Johnny!’ Daisy cried as they neared them. ‘I wondered if you’d be here.’

  The boy – or rather young man now, for he was two years older than Daisy – turned and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. He came towards her at once and his uncle Mitch and Jeff turned to look towards her too, though Daisy had eyes for no one but Johnny Hammond.

  ‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lovely Daisy Maitland.’ Mitch Hammond came over to her and kissed her on both cheeks, whilst Jeff – a little more sedately – shook her hand in a very grown-up manner. Mitch smiled at her. ‘And what brings you here, Daisy, as if I didn’t know? Are you going to start racing, now that your aunt seems to have given up?’

  Daisy smiled up at him. ‘No, but I am going to fly one of your aeroplanes one day.’

  Mitch’s eyes widened, but he threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘Are you now? Well, if you’re anything like your Aunty Pips, I’ve no doubt you will. Jeff will take you up. He’s taking Johnny up during the school holidays. How long are you here for?’

  ‘Just till next weekend.’

  ‘Right, Jeff and I will sort something out and I’ll give you a ring. We should be able to get in a couple of flights for you if your aunt will bring you down.’

  Daisy’s eyes shone. ‘Thank you, Uncle Mitch,’ she said politely.

  ‘Now, it’s time we were going out onto Members’ Hill. The racing’s about to start.’

  ‘Come and say “hello” to Aunty Pips and Uncle George.’

  Mitch squeezed her arm. ‘I’ll see them later, Daisy. I must get to the track now. I’m racing in the second race.’

  As she watched him walk away, followed by Johnny and Jeff, Daisy whispered to Milly, ‘Why doesn’t he want to see Aunty Pips and Uncle George?’

  Milly flapped her hand. ‘Oh, I’ll tell you sometime, but come along. We ought to be finding our places.’

  Daisy was not to be put off quite so easily. ‘But she saved his life, didn’t she? She pulled him out of his crashed aircraft in the war and saved the photographs he’d been taking of enemy lines too. Daddy told me. So why—?’

  ‘It’s rather complicated, darling. Grown-up stuff.’

  ‘But I’m grown up, Aunty Milly.’ She grinned. ‘Well, nearly, but there’s something – well – funny because every time his name’s mentioned, Uncle George gets very tight lipped and—’ Suddenly, Daisy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a round ‘o’. ‘You – you don’t mean that Mitch is in love with Aunty Pips?’

  ‘Well – um – yes,’ Milly said uncomfortably. ‘I think he very well might be.’

  ‘Ah, that would explain it, then.’ Daisy sighed heavily. ‘He is very nice, of course, but I do love Uncle George.’

  Milly squeezed her arm. ‘And so does your aunty, darling. Now, let’s go and find somewhere to watch the racing. And mind, not a word about this to Pips and certainly not to George.’

  ‘I promise. I can kee
p a secret, you know.’

  Milly giggled deliciously. ‘Better than I can, I hope. And you’re just a little too sharp for your own good at times, Daisy Maitland. Just like your Aunty Pips.’

  Four

  Muriel Denton came fourth in the all-women’s race, much to her disgust. Her disappointment was tempered a little by the fact that her friend, Pattie Henderson, won. Though fierce rivals on the track, outside a race they were all good friends and rooted for each other. ‘Anyone but you,’ she said, slapping Pattie on the back, ‘and I’d’ve been spitting feathers.’

  Pattie laughed. ‘I only won because Pips doesn’t race any more. If she’d been racing her Bugatti today, I’d have been lost in her exhaust fumes. Come on, let’s get a drink and go and find her. I’m still hoping to persuade her to take up racing here again, though goodness knows why I’m bothering because she’ll beat us hollow.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll manage it. She gave a promise to George that she wouldn’t race any more after their marriage and Pips never breaks her promises.’

  Pattie pursed her lips and glanced across to where their party of friends was standing on Members’ Hill. ‘Then it’s George I have to work on, is it, to get him to release her from her promise?’

  ‘You can try,’ Muriel laughed, ‘but I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

  A little later, Pattie, her racing over for the day, drew George aside. ‘Dear George, I want to ask you something.’

  He smiled down at her. He liked this dark-haired woman with warm brown eyes and a very firm handshake. In fact, he liked all of Pips’s Brooklands friends. Even Mitch Hammond, in a way. George was forced to admit that his rival was a fine man; a courageous and daring man who’d flown with the Royal Flying Corps during the war as a reconnaissance pilot. Though he wasn’t too sure just how much he could trust him around Pips. He had the reputation of being a lady’s man, which Mitch himself seemed to delight in perpetuating.

  ‘Now I wonder if I can guess what that might be?’

  Pattie looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘Can you?’

  He sighed. ‘You want me to persuade her to race again.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because, my dear, I’ve been struggling with my conscience as to whether I ought to do just that. I know she misses it, but, you see, that accident she had frightened the life out of me. I couldn’t bear to lose her.’

  ‘Mm. I do see that. The rest of us aren’t married, so it’s not quite the same for us.’

  ‘You have families though, who must worry about you.’

  ‘Of course, but they all realize it’s just something we have to do.’

  ‘As I suppose I should for Pips,’ he murmured. He paused for a moment before asking, ‘Are none of you married or engaged?’

  ‘Not amongst our little group – the Brooklands Girls – no. Muriel was, of course, but her husband was killed on the Somme.’

  After a slight pause, he asked softly, ‘And you?’

  There was a slightly longer pause before Pattie, her voice shaking a little, said, ‘My fiancé was killed at Passchendaele and I haven’t met anyone since who could even come close to him in my affections.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So,’ she said briskly after a moment. ‘What about it?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. I promise you that and – and maybe I’ll talk to her. But, of course, she’s still got her flying.’

  ‘Yes, there’s that,’ Pattie said, but she didn’t sound too enthusiastic. For her, flying could not even begin to match the thrill of racing round the Brooklands track.

  They rejoined the others and, for the moment, the subject was put aside, if not entirely forgotten.

  ‘Has Uncle Mitch telephoned yet?’ Daisy asked impatiently at breakfast the following morning after George had left for the office.

  Pips laughed. ‘Give him a chance to get it arranged. I’m sure he won’t forget, but until he does, what do you want to do today? Shopping? Sightseeing?’

  ‘I’d love to go to Kew Gardens.’

  Pips raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Why?’

  Daisy chuckled. ‘You know Granny has made Jake head gardener. He has two boys from the village who’ve recently left school working under him and then Harry helps out at weekends and in the holidays when he’s not working for Granddad Dawson.’

  Pips nodded. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Jake has been reading everything he can get his hands on about gardening and he got a book about Kew Gardens.’

  She seemed about to say more, but at that moment, the telephone shrilled and Daisy leapt up and then remembered that this was not her telephone to answer.

  ‘Go on,’ Pips laughed indulgently, ‘you can answer it.’ There was no missing the girl’s excitement as she said, ‘Hello, Uncle Mitch.’ Then she listened carefully before saying, ‘That’s wonderful. Thank you so much. See you tomorrow.’ There was a slight pause before she added, ‘Will Johnny be with you?’

  As she replaced the receiver carefully, she was grinning.

  ‘So, when are we going?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon and again on Friday afternoon – if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Of course. But today, you want to go to Kew, do you?’

  ‘Yes, please. Then I can tell Jake all about it.’ With a mischievous grin, she added, ‘And tomorrow we go flying.’

  Daisy’s excitement the following afternoon was palpable and infectious. Pips could fully understand it. She still got the same thrill when an aircraft under her control lifted into the air. It was the same nervous excitement lining up for a race on the Brooklands track, but now, she tried not to dwell on that. A promise was a promise and she would not break it. At least, she could still go flying.

  ‘There’s Uncle Mitch – and Johnny – with Mr Pointer.’

  They were standing by the two-seater aircraft that was used for training.

  Pips had lent Daisy her flying helmet and jacket, which, though a little large for her, would keep her warm in the cockpit.

  ‘Ready, Daisy?’ Jeff asked as they approached.

  The girl’s eyes shone. ‘Yes, please, Mr Pointer.’

  ‘Hey, none of the “mister” stuff, and I’m far too young to be “uncle” to anyone.’ He wasn’t, of course, but Daisy giggled as he added, ‘It’s Jeff. Now, are you sure you don’t want to go up with your aunty? She has a full pilot’s licence, you know.’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘No. I would like you to show me things and Aunty Pips says she’s like Uncle Mitch. She won’t try to teach a relative. She’ll take me up, but only for a flight.’

  Jeff nodded. ‘I understand that. All right. Let’s climb aboard, then.’

  As they walked towards the two-seater biplane, Jeff said, ‘This is an AVRO 504 built during the war. After the conflict, there were a great many for sale, so Mitch and I bought a couple. They make ideal training aircraft as well as being useful for taking folk up on pleasure flights.’ He chuckled. ‘We’ll do anything anybody asks us – within reason. I’ve even been known to fly a banner across the sky for a mate of mine, who wanted an unusual way to propose to his girlfriend.’

  Once they were both settled, Daisy in the front seat with Jeff behind her, he went through all the cockpit checks with her, before one of Jeff’s mechanics shouted, ‘Petrol on,’ followed by two further instructions. Fascinated, Daisy listened, taking it all in.

  Then the mechanic turned the propeller and shouted ‘Contact!’ to which Jeff replied ‘Contact!’ The mechanic swung the propeller forcefully and the engine fired. When Jeff waved his hand to signify that he was ready, the chocks set in front of each wheel were removed and Jeff began the take-off. The aircraft bumped along the grass and rose into the air. At once Daisy felt the thrill of being airborne as the aircraft climbed. Jeff levelled out and then began to turn. Now, if she looked to her left, Daisy could see the ground – to her right, the sky. She felt as if the world was spinning beneath her but, far from feeling ner
vous or nauseous, Daisy revelled in the new and exciting experience.

  Now she understood why Aunty Pips loved flying. Oh, for the day when she’d be old enough to take lessons. But Jeff was already shouting instructions to her from the rear cockpit, explaining what each of the instruments in front of her was for. She took it all in, absorbing every word, every instruction, as he talked her through everything he was doing until she felt she could almost fly the plane right now.

  Jeff must have felt her enthusiasm because suddenly he said, ‘Have you got all that?’

  ‘I think so,’ Daisy shouted.

  ‘Right, you have a go, but I’ll take over again to land her.’

  They were still waiting for her – Pips, Mitch and Johnny – when they landed.

  ‘How was it?’ Johnny was the first to ask.

  ‘Magnificent! I can’t wait for Friday.’

  Jeff drew Mitch and Pips a little to one side. ‘She has the makings of an excellent pilot.’

  Pips’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve given her a lesson?’

  Jeff held up his finger and thumb, a small space between them. ‘Just a little one.’ He glanced at Mitch. ‘I did have my boss’s permission.’

  ‘Trouble is,’ Pips glanced across at her niece, ‘when she’s old enough to start having proper lessons, she won’t be down here enough for you to teach her.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Mitch said. ‘There are the long summer holidays. We could do quite a lot in six weeks.’

  Jeff nodded. ‘She’ll pick it up very quickly. I can see that already. As long as she can get the requisite number of flying hours in . . .’

  ‘We’ll see that she does,’ Mitch said firmly. ‘She’s a great kid. I like Daisy, as I think’ – he grinned at Pips – ‘does my nephew.’

  ‘What?’ Pips’s startled glance swivelled towards the two young people. ‘Oh dear.’

  Mitch frowned. ‘You don’t like him because of who he is?’