He waggled his walking stick in the air to show his vehement disapproval. Fitz would have waved an apology but holding onto the overnight bag with one hand and Sam with the other prevented her.
Within a minute, they were pulling up at the airbase.
‘You’re crazy, Mr Carter, do you know that?’ said Fitz, as she climbed off the motorcycle.
‘Crazy for you, Miss Fitz-Herbert.’ He unfastened her helmet and took his own off, before kissing her.
Fitz laughed the reply away, pretending she didn’t know what he meant.
‘Right, well, I’m going for a cuppa,’ she said. ‘What are you up to now?’
‘I’ll be over as soon as I’ve put this baby away,’ said Sam, patting the fuel tank.
Fitz went to turn but stopped. ‘Are you supposed to be on duty?’
Sam winked. ‘I snuck out for ten minutes. It’s all right. I cleared it with Teddy first,’ he replied, referring to the squadron leader. ‘He said I had fifteen minutes and by my reckoning, I’ve used precisely twelve of those.’
Fitz had no idea how he got away with it, but she was delighted nonetheless that he had made a special effort to pick her up from Westhampnett. She looked across the airfield where the squadron were sitting out in wicker chairs, reading newspapers, dozing in the sun, chatting to each other, looking terribly relaxed. Their Hurricane aircraft were beyond them on the field, all ready to go at a moment’s notice.
It was then she saw Bob, whom she’d become good friends with over the past few months. He jogged over to them. ‘Might want to get yourself back there, ASAP,’ he said.
‘Trouble?’ asked Sam.
‘West Malling has just been hit,’ informed Bob. ‘Two squadrons of Junkers got through. They thought it was a feint.’
Fitz understood the term. A feint was designed to give the impression of a mock attack to draw the enemy out. ‘What’s the situation now?’ she asked.
‘We’re all on high alert,’ said Bob.
Sam swore under his breath. ‘I’d better go,’ he said to Fitz.
She nodded. ‘See you back here for a cuppa later,’ she said, trying to sound bright and breezy but missing the mark.
Sam held her gaze for a few seconds, his unspoken words of reassurance communicated to her in his eyes. Fitz couldn’t help thinking they had a blue-grey colour to them today, rather like an ominous rain cloud. ‘Make it a strong black coffee and I’mall yours,’ he said, throwing her a grin before starting the engine and driving off in the direction of the hangar.
As she hurried over to the mess room, the lightness Fitz had felt earlier had all but disappeared. She was anxious and she hated feeling like this. The risk of losing someone she cared about was almost too much a price to pay. Surely it was easier not to love, and then she wouldn’t have to lose.
She glanced back at the squadron where Sam was now standing talking to one of the other pilots. It was time for her heart to retreat. She was so silly to have allowed herself to get emotionally attached to him. She should have kept Sam Carter at arm’s length, exactly like she had every other man. That way her heart was safe.
She hadn’t been in the mess room for more than half an hour when the sound of the squadron being scrambled rang out across the airstrip. Fitz jumped to her feet and darted over to the window where she could see the ground crew sprinting towards the stationary Hurricanes. The pilots were shrugging on their flight jackets and helmets whilst simultaneously running over to their aircraft that were already being warmed up by the engineers.
She went to the door and stepped out onto the airfield. The sound of the engines rumbling into life filled the air, and the smell of aviation fuel took Fitz right back to that awful day when Betty had died.
The anxiety was now racing through her. She took several long deep breaths. This wasn’t like her at all. She did not go to pieces in an emergency.
‘Get a grip of yourself,’ she muttered.
She watched the Hurricanes begin to rumble their way towards the runway in groups of three. Within seconds the first trio were hurtling down the tarmac and taking off, heading out towardsthe south coast. Seconds later, another trio, and then another. The next group contained Sam’s plane and she watched as it lifted into the air, not taking her eyes off it until it was out of sight.
‘Please come back, Sam,’ she whispered. ‘Please come back.’ She purposely didn’t ask him to come back toher. She had no right to ask that. He didn’t belong to her. She didn’t want that responsibility – she was no good at that sort of thing. It was a selfish trait she was aware of but didn’t like to acknowledge. However, today, she realised the most unselfish thing she could do, was to not ask for Sam to come back to her. He just had to come back and she’d settle for that.
Due to the confrontation going on in the sky, Fitz knew without having to check that she was grounded until it was safe for her to continue her assignment or receive further orders to return to Hamble.
She tried to settle in the mess room, tried not to worry about Sam, but she found it impossible. Her emotions were like some macabre merry-go-round, with every complete cycle, she changed from confident, to fearful, to terrified. She wanted to go over to the control tower, to hear what was going on but she knew they wouldn’t let her in. The same with the command room. It was out of bounds to her. Instead, she was stuck in the mess room with absolutely no idea of what was going on as 601 Squadron defended the south coast.
Fitz wasn’t aware of time but it couldn’t have been more that fifteen or twenty minutes when the sound of aircraft approaching was heard before she could spot it. She tuned in her ear. It wasn’t Hurricanes. She’d recognise their distinctive sound anywhere. No this was something different.
The air-raid siren began to sound and she could hear the station tannoy warning.
