They made their way back to the airstrip where the remains of Betty’s Spitfire had been removed from the runway. Several of the ground crew were performing a walk of the strip to makesure all debris had been cleared so as not to cause another catastrophe.
‘All set when you are,’ said Bob coming over to where Fitz and Sam were standing. ‘Your gear is over in the office.’
‘Thanks,’ said Fitz. ‘I’ll get changed now.’
‘I’ll wait to see you off,’ said Sam.
Fitz returned several minutes later, kitted out in her flight gear once more. It wouldn’t have bothered her getting changed on the airstrip but Bob had been sweet to put her belongings in the office.
Sam was waiting outside the hangar for her.
‘Thanks for earlier,’ said Fitz. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘No worries,’ said Sam.
‘I’ll get your handkerchief washed and back to you for the next time I’m here.’
Sam smiled. ‘I’m glad there’s going to be a next time.’
They shared a smile of unspoken communication. Fitz wasn’t sure what the feeling was that zipped through her stomach but the thought that he would be happy to see her again, matched her own sentiment. Once more, in some unfathomable way, she felt a connection to Sam. Maybe because of what they had just witnessed. As pilots they were both very much aware of the risks.
The flight back to Maidenhead was one of the loneliest Fitz had ever taken. For some obscure reason, it was worse than when her mother had died. Maybe because it brought the fragility of life into sharper focus. Her mother’s death all those years ago, seemed like another lifetime. One when Fitz was a child and which as an adult now she could escape from, but death had found her again. Someone close to her, someone she cared about. She may have only known Betty a short time but they,together with Marjorie and Elsie, had formed a tight-knit bond. And now the four were three.
When Fitz reached the ATA training school, she was immediately taken to be debriefed and she gave an accurate and full report of what had happened. She managed to keep her emotions under control by imagining it was a scene from a film or a book. That way she could take a step back and report as a viewer or a reader rather than a participant. It was a tactic she employed when thinking about her mother. It was easier that way and she now needed to use it again.
‘Well done, Fitz-Herbert,’ said the chief instructor. ‘Now, I don’t wish to sound brutal but it’s imperative you don’t go away from here all upset. It won’t do morale any good whatsoever. The last thing we need is anyone cracking under the pressure.’
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ replied Fitz solemnly.
‘Good. Dismissed.’
When Fitz arrived back at her billet she was met by Marjorie and Elsie, who were both as shocked and upset as she was, but they too had been given the lecture on not lowering morale among the other ferry pilots.
When they sat around the log burner with their cups of coffee that night, they poured an extra one for Betty and quietly shed a few silent and private tears for their dear friend.
Chapter 7
May–July 1941
The rest of training went through quickly and uneventfully. Although Fitz, Marjorie and Elsie had all been devastated by Betty’s death, they knew it was a harsh reality of what they were doing, and each and every one of the ATA pilots faced these dangers daily. There had been a funeral for Betty back in her hometown, and Fitz, Marjorie and Elsie had been given leave to attend, although it came with another kind but firm talk about not letting the incident affect them. Death was something all pilots faced and they needed to get used to it. In private they had grieved for their friend, but out on the airfield and up in the sky they had to put that loss to one side.
May arrived and Fitz, Marjorie and Elsie soon found themselves settling into full active duty at Number 15 women’s ferry pool in Hamble. It was close to the aircraft production factory in Southampton and many of their assignments involved picking up new aircraft from the site and delivering them to various RAF airfields around the south of England. They worked thirteen days on, followed by two days off.
Once they’d delivered an aircraft they were often tasked with taking another plane somewhere else and then another plane back again. At the end of the day, it was up to the ATA crew to make their way back to Hamble whenever possible. This could be by whatever means of transport available – plane, train, or bus. If it wasn’t possible, then they stayed overnight until they could either get back or were given another assignment.
Fitz loved the freedom being a ferry pilot offered, not to mention the different aircrafts she flew during the day. She could start the day off with a Spitfire, then transfer to a de Havilland and end the day flying a Hawker.
Fitz was in her element and was becoming well known among the air crew. Her penchant for ruby-red lipstick, changing out of her flight suit and into her uniform and heels, ready for a quick drink in the mess, was becoming legendary.
‘You’ve got quite a fanbase,’ said Marjorie one day after they had both delivered aircraft to one of the RAF bases and were heading back to Hamble ferry pool by train. In the mess the previous evening, the pilots had greeted Fitz enthusiastically and, according to Marjorie, were practically queuing up to buy her a drink. ‘You’re terrible for encouraging them.’ She laughed good humouredly.
‘Oh, it’s only a bit of fun,’ said Fitz. ‘They’re all good sports.’
‘You could have your pick of the bunch.’
‘You sound like my stepmother trying to marry me off,’ said Fitz. She winked at her friend to show she wasn’t cross.
‘Don’t you want to get married one day?’ asked Marjorie.
