‘Fitz! Stop!’ he yelled.
Before she could respond, there was another huge explosion from the Spitfire. The whole aircraft was up in flames. Fitz let out a cry of horror, grabbing hold of Sam’s arm, wanting to look away, yet unable to move.
Sam wrapped his arms around Fitz and held her close to him, turning her away from the sight of the aircraft.
Still holding her, Sam walked Fitz back towards the hangar but that was as far as Fitz would allow herself to be taken. ‘I’m not leaving her,’ she said through tears.
‘All right, but no running off,’ said Sam gently. He unbuckled her helmet and lifted it from her head with one hand, all the while keeping his other arm around her.
Fitz watched in horror as the fire crew tackled the blaze and then, amazingly, she could see two of them at the cockpit, pulling Betty’s body from the fire. All she could do was watch as Betty was placed onto a stretcher and then swiftly transferred into the ambulance.
The vehicle moved at speed across the uneven grass of the airfield, towards the medical centre.
‘You can’t go there,’ said Sam, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Let the doc see to her. You’ll only be in the way.’
Fitz wanted to argue but she knew Sam was right. She allowed herself to be led away back to the mess room where Sam sat herdown in the same armchair she’d been in not fifteen minutes ago. Someone handed her a drink. She thought it might be port but she couldn’t taste it as she downed it in one. The warmth of the alcohol heated her throat but all she could taste in her mouth was smoke and aviation fuel.
Fitz wasn’t aware of time as she sat there waiting for news. It could have been five minutes or five hours. All she could think of was Betty. She was aware at some point of Sam asking her if she wanted to take her flying suit off and she nodded, unable to speak. She didn’t really care if she sat in the suit all day but she allowed Sam to help her take it off so she would be more comfortable. She smoked the cigarettes that were passed her way but she didn’t taste them. She didn’t enjoy them. She didn’t want them. She could feel her mind closing, tunnelling vision, her thoughts only of her friend. Fitz felt as if she was in some lucid dream that she couldn’t quite shake herself fully awake from.
It wasn’t until the door to the mess opened and the doctor stepped into the room that Fitz snapped back to attention.
She got to her feet, throwing her cigarette into the open fireplace.
The doctor looked at Fitz. His expression was grim. His gaze went to Bob and Sam who were standing either side of her. She felt Sam’s hand cup her elbow, as if ready to steady her.
‘I’m very sorry,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m afraid there was nothing we could do to save her.’
‘Nothing?’ repeated Fitz. This couldn’t be true. She must have misheard. There must have been something.
The doctor shook his head. ‘She was too badly burned. She never regained consciousness. We did everything we could. I’m sorry.’
Fitz looked at Sam as if seeking confirmation. She went to speak but no words came out.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ suggested Sam.
From nowhere anger swamped Fitz. She felt the burn of fury in her stomach. It exploded up through her chest, bursting through her throat. ‘I don’t want to sit down,’ she almost shouted. ‘What good will that do?’
A part of her brain knew she was being irrational. She fought to calm her emotions. She couldn’t let the RAF chaps see her break down, that would be exactly what they were expecting of a woman. No, she had to keep her emotions in check.
She looked the doctor in the eye and stood taller, pushing her shoulders back and lifting her chin up. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure Betty’s family know.’
‘I’ll let them know back at Maidenhead,’ said the doctor. ‘I think maybe you shouldn’t fly any more today. We can arrange for accommodation for you for the night. Tangmere Cottage will have a spare bed, no doubt.’
Fitz took a deep breath. Much as she would like to curl up in a ball and cry her heart out, she was damned if she was going to do it here. ‘Thank you but I’ll be fine,’ she replied. Whilst she appreciated that the suggestion came from a good place, she was sure male pilots would not be afforded the same sympathetic treatment.
‘Perhaps fly back to ATA training headquarters, then,’ suggested the doctor. ‘I’m sure you’ll be needed there for a debrief of the incident today.’
Fitz nodded. She’d agree to this. It felt wrong to be heading off around the English countryside on what was essentially a jolly when one of her friends had just died. ‘If you could let Maidenhead know, I’d appreciate that.’
The doctor nodded and exchanged another look with Sam, before leaving the room.
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right flying back?’ asked Bob.
Before Fitz could answer, Sam spoke. ‘Of course, she will.’ He looked at Fitz. ‘It’s like falling off a horse. You need to get up and get back on straight away. It’s what you need.’
Fitz studied Sam’s blue eyes, as blue as the vast open sky on a summer’s day. He understood her. Understood her need to experience the adrenaline rushing through her veins. It was what she lived for. She was addicted to that rush. She needed that surge to remind herself she was alive and that life was for living. It was a balm for her heart.
She had known from the start that she and Sam had a connection, but she’d not been able to articulate it or explain it before. And now she was certain that connection came from a place of pain. She wondered what heartbreak he was harbouring.
