She looked from the letter to Bob. ‘I don’t know if I should open it,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’
Bob shrugged. ‘I wasn’t sure, but when I saw you sitting in there, I realised it was you being flown out tonight. I thought you should at least have the opportunity to decide before you left. In case … well, you know.’
‘In case I don’t come back,’ said Fitz.
Bob nodded. ‘Sam gave it to me last week. He said to give it to you the next time I saw you. He didn’t think you’d want to speak to him so he wrote a letter instead.’
‘Where is Sam now?’ asked Fitz, looking around, half expecting him to emerge from the hangar like he had done before.
Bob looked down at the ground, not meeting her eye.
‘Where’s Sam?’ she asked again, this time her voice quieter.
Bob shook his head before looking up at her. He took a deep breath. ‘We’re not sure,’ he said eventually.
‘Not sure? What does that mean?’ asked Fitz. Her heart had picked up its pace now.
‘He took a plane out to France last night. A drop-off.’
‘A drop-off? What was he doing flying a drop-off?’ Her voice sounded tight in her throat.
‘Last minute they needed a pilot. The pilot, Micky Jenkins, got ill. Sam volunteered. There wasn’t time to get anyone else. Jenkins was literally sick just as he was about to climb into the cockpit.’
‘And Sam stepped up. Oh, God. What’s happened?’ asked Fitz.
‘He was shot down. That’s what the reports are we’re getting from across the channel anyway,’ said Bob.
Fitz was sure the whole world stopped for several seconds as she took in the news. Sam was missing in action. Was he presumed dead? She shouldn’t be entertaining such an idea. Not when she was about to be dropped in France herself.
She looked up at Bob. ‘Whereabouts in France did the plane go down?’
‘Not sure, exactly, but central Brittany. He was flying a VIP out there for a meeting. It was all hush-hush. Couldn’t be delayed and that’s why Sam stepped up.’
‘Stupid, stupid man,’ said Fitz, her voice cracking completely. She blinked hard. She didn’t want to cry. She had no right to cry. She had spurned Sam and now he could be captured, lying injured somewhere … or indeed … dead. The tears sprang from her eyes at that thought and she quickly brushed them away.
‘I didn’t know whether to tell you,’ said Bob. ‘But I thought you should know.’
‘Thank you, Bob,’ replied Fitz. ‘I appreciate you telling me.’ She looked down at the letter. She wouldn’t be able to take it withher. They weren’t allowed any personal effects, just in case they were captured. It would blow her cover in seconds if a love letter was found.
But she didn’t want to read it and then hand an opened letter back to Bob. Whatever Sam had written, it was private between the two of them.
Bob held out a box of matches to her. ‘You could read it and burn it afterwards,’ he suggested as if knowing what she was thinking.
It was a tempting solution, but Fitz didn’t know if she could bear to burn a letter from Sam. What if it was the last letter she was ever to receive from him?
She shook her head at the box of matches. ‘I don’t want to burn it,’ she said and held the unopened letter to Bob. ‘I’ll read it when I get back.’
Bob eyed her for a moment before taking the letter from her. ‘You sure?’ She nodded. He pushed the letter into his pocket. ‘All right. I’ll make sure it’s safe until then.’
Chapter 13
The noise of the engine rumbling away would normally have thrilled Fitz, but she barely noticed it. She was only faintly aware of the vibration of the aircraft against her back. For the first time in her life, she found no comfort from being in the air.
Her mind was stuck on her conversation with Bob and what had happened to Sam. The thought that he was missing, possibly dead, was an utter nightmare. Despite the risks of being a pilot, Fitz had always thought of Sam as invincible but now the reality was hitting home hard.
A nudge to her shoulder brought Fitz from her thoughts. It was André.
He leaned in and raised his voice to be heard above the engine. ‘Ça va? Tu es prête?’
