Out on the tarmac, by the hangar’s huge open doors, Dash bounced on her toes and watched the Hurricane be hauled outside. The sunshine flashed against her powerful wingspan, and Dash was struck by how sleek she was, compared to a biplane. Jenny had been wonderful to fly in, but this would be entirely different. Pulse racing, she climbed onto the wing while all the other girls watched and cheered for her, then at last, she slid into the dark green cockpit. She could hardly think for the thrill of it all.
“Miss Wilson,” Miss MacGill said, scowling up at her, “it is important that you understand that this flight must be as boring as possible. Take off, fly over the airfield, land in one piece, then bring it in for a postflight inspection. Calibrate the air speed indicator, check that everything works. No funny business. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dash said, grinning as she tugged on her helmet. “I can be boring.”
“I doubt that very much. But I do want you to try your best to achieve that while you’re flying my plane. If you do not, I cannot guarantee you will get another chance.” Then she smiled. “I hope the flight is as wonderful as you’ve dreamed.”
“I know it will be. Thank you again for this opportunity, Miss MacGill.”
“You earned it.”
Then Dash was alone in the cockpit, staring at the shiny black instrument panel. Before anything else, she bent down and pulled out the checklist stowed beneath her seat. It didn’t matter that she knew the plane inside out, she remembered Uncle Bob’s lesson: going over this checklist was possibly the most important part about flying. If one thing wasn’t working right, the whole flight could be a disaster. Following the order on the list, she reached down the left side toward the master switch on the bottom and flicked it on. Top left were the switches for the undercarriage lights, which she flicked up and down, making sure they stayed green. To the left of her thigh, she set the throttle, then she pushed the pitch button all the way forward. There were three fuel tanks on the Hurricane, and she turned the dial at the bottom to check her reserve. All good. Moving to the right side, she pulled out the primer lever, then pumped it three times. Finally, she flipped the magneto and electrical switches to the On position.
The overhead canopy was always left open during takeoff and landing, providing both visibility and an easier escape route if needed. Now, the opening allowed Dash to stick out her hand, give everyone a thumbs-up and yell, “Clear!”
“Woo-hoo, Dash!” Margie called. “We’ll be watching!”
Dash pressed in the starter, and the big Merlin engine coughed before rumbling to life. The purr grew to a roar, and from the way the plane began to vibrate around her, Dash could sense its power, impatient beneath her hands. Dash felt almost breathless with excitement.
“Keep it boring!” Miss MacGill shouted over the engine.
Primer in and locked. Fuel pump tested. Dash let off the brake andpointed the nose of the Hurricane down the runway. As she rolled toward the end, the airplane hummed all around her, as eager to fly as she was.
“One more pre-takeoff check,” she told the plane, her finger skimming down the list.
Main tanks on. Check prop cycle and mags, scan all the dials on the panel for temps and pressure, check the altimeter, slow to check low idle, set brakes and trims and tensions. Check fuel one more time, fuel boost on. Flaps up. Harness tight.
Just one more thing she needed to do. Reaching into the pocket of her coveralls, she drew out her father’s old brass compass, which she set on the dash. It glinted cheerfully in the sun, and she imagined how happy he would have been to be flying with her, despite saying he’d had enough of the sky.
At last she was ready, and she laid her palms on the instrument panel, smiling. “All right then. Let’s go.”
Bracing herself for the force, Dash pressed the throttle all the way, then she released the brakes. Freed at last, the plane sped down the runway, and despite her exhilaration, Dash made a note in her head that the wheels rolled straight, without the slightest wobble. That was a good sign, suggesting the landing should go smoothly as well. The tarmac in front was almost done, and Dash’s heart whirred like the propellor, accelerating until the plane’s RPMs hit 3000. In that moment, she pulled the stick back hard, elevating the nose, and the plane lifted effortlessly off the runway.
Unconstrained by the earth, the Hurricane tore into the sky, and the thrust shoved Dash back in her seat. In no time at all, she was soaring at five thousand feet and laughing with pure joy, tears in her eyes. Miss MacGill was asking the impossible. How could anyone be bored when they flew this plane? Still, she followed her instructions, banking the plane in a smooth turn, setting it up for a circle over the wide, green airfield, with its forested borders bubbling up in the distance. The two enormous CanCar buildings stretched out behind the runways, two blank white rectangles that contained dozens of fighter planes, and in thedistance, Mount MacKay. Dash dropped her gaze to the panel, watching for unusual bumps or vibrations in the dials, scouting for sudden changes in pressure or temperature, but she could find nothing wrong with the plane.
“You are perfect,” Dash said out loud.
Pushing the control stick forward then to the side, she leaned the Hurricane in the opposite direction, banking harder this time, and the hungry roar of the engine resonated in her chest.
This! This is everything!she thought, her heart singing. Yes, she loved to laugh and kick up her heels, but up here, thousands of feet above the earth, was where Dash felt the most alive. It was impossible not to think of Uncle Bob and all his lessons. The way that old plane used to wait for her on the field like a friend, calling her toHurry up and fly!Dash could hardly wait to write and tell him all about this.
“Sorry to cheat on you, Jenny,” she said aloud, “but this plane has stolen my heart!”
Her second circle was over far too quickly, but Miss MacGill was watching, so Dash didn’t dare stay up any longer. Just before preparing to land, she roared over the girls’ heads and gave them a saucy tip of the wing, hoping that still existed within the “fly boring” category. After that, she touched down in a smooth, sturdy landing and taxied back to where everyone waited, a smile glued to her face. As she climbed out of the cockpit, still riding a wave of euphoria, her friends surrounded her, cheering. They all knew how the plane worked, but every one of them wanted to know, “What did itfeellike?”
Dash exhaled, her eyes sweeping over the wings of the plane. She was already impatient to go up again. “It felt like heaven,” she told them. “A noisy kind of heaven.”
twenty-sevenDOT— Whitby, Ontario —
Petty Officer Wren Wilson?”
Dot whirled toward the voice, automatically clutching her purse to her chest. She’d just stepped off the train at Whitby Station without any idea of which direction to go, and now a tall man in a black trench coat stepped out of the night and stood before her, his face shadowed beneath the brim of a fedora.
“I am your driver.”
She stared at him, feeling as if she’d just walked into a chapter from one of her mystery novels. Despite her exhaustion from two full days of travel, she automatically thought it through. He knew her name, and she had been told to expect a driver, so she followed him without a word and slipped into the warm car. The stranger didn’t say where they were going, but she understood that was part of his character’s role. Hers was to wait and see. Settling back, she watched out the window, and they raced along the highway in silence. The moon was bright, making the farmland glow eerily white, and Dot shivered. She should not have been reading a murder mystery on the train. On the other hand, it prompted her to look for clues, and her heart lifted when she spied a familiar sign. They were headed toward Oshawa! She’d be able to see her parents!
After a while, the car slowed then pulled over to the side of long, empty road. There was nothing but fields for miles around them.
