‘Really?’ He looked sweetly eager.
‘Really.’
‘You’re like an angel,’ he said. ‘An angel sent from heaven to bring us joy.’
I looked at my watch. ‘An angel who needs to be home before blackout, so we should probably get on,’ I said briskly. Harry stuck his bottom lip out like a sulky schoolboy, though his eyes still flashed with mischief.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ he said. He had a northern accent and I liked the way it sounded. I gave half the notepaper to Nelly who went off to the other end of the ward to start writing, and I sat down next to Harry’s bed.
‘Fire away,’ I said, then I winced. ‘Sorry, that’s an awful expression to use for you.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘I just meant what do you want to say?’
Harry thought. ‘Dear Mum,’ he dictated. ‘I know you’ll have heard that I was injured by the bomb at the base. But I wanted to let you know I am doing all right. There is a lovely nurse here called Nurse Watson who is writing this letter for me because my arms are both out of action, but hopefully not for long. Also …’
‘Hold on,’ I said, writing as fast as I could and feeling my cheeks flush because he’d called me lovely. ‘Let me catch up.’
Harry paused until I’d finished.
‘Also, I saw a dog the other day who looked exactly like Macauley. It made me really homesick and I wished I was there with you to throw a stick for him on the beach.’
The sweet honesty of his words made my eyes prickle with tears. I kept my gaze fixed on the notepaper.
‘Hope you and Dad are doing well. I miss you. Love, Harry.’
‘Is that it?’ I said.
‘That’s it. Oh no, hang on. Can you add a PS: I am looking forward to getting back into a plane.’
I wrote the PS then I held the letter up so he could read it and he nodded.
I slipped it into an envelope and Harry gave me the address in Lancashire.
‘Are you really looking forward to getting back in a plane?’ I asked as I tucked the letter into my bag carefully.
‘So much,’ Harry said. His whole face lit up. ‘I love it.’
I shuddered. All I knew of planes were the ones that flew overhead every night, bringing fear and destruction. ‘What’s it like? Flying?’
Harry looked far away at a spot somewhere over my shoulder.
‘It’s magic,’ he said, and I smiled because the dreamy way he spoke sounded like Nelly when she talked about Dr Barnet.
‘Don’t you get scared?’
‘Sometimes. But that’s all part of it.’ He looked at me again. ‘When I was little, my bedroom was right at the top of our house. And I’d sit by the window and watch the swifts riding on the thermals, swooping and diving, and I’d wish I could be like them. When war was declared I knew I wanted to fly. Most of the lads from school joined the Navy, because we’d grown up by the sea. But I wanted to be in the air.’
He gave me that sudden grin again. ‘And I get right seasick.’
I laughed. ‘Is it how you imagined?’
‘Sometimes when I’m in the plane, it’s like being one of those birds, and I want to scream with the joy of it,’ he said. ‘And other times it’s so frightening I think I might faint.’
‘But you don’t.’
‘I don’t. Because we’ve got a job to do and what use would I be if I fainted, eh?’
