‘In times like this, a young boy needs his father more than ever,’ replied Camilla. ‘He will one day inherit Badcombe House, and he will need to understand its history and the history of the village. He’s at a very impressionable age and you are the man to set the example for him. Sending him away to stay with my aunt is not going to make a man of him.’
Fitz had to clamp her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from gasping out loud. Camilla was a cunning fox. She simply wanted rid of Fitz, that was all.
‘I’d never thought of it like that,’ she heard her father reply. ‘If you organise it with your aunt, I’ll speak to Geraldine, and we can arrange for her to go in the new year.’
‘Excellent. I’ll do that at once.’
Fitz slid back into the shadows of the staircase as Camilla opened the door of the drawing room. She certainly wasn’t wasting any time in contacting her aunt that was for sure.
Fitz felt a sting of unexpected tears prick her eyes. She wanted to be cross with her father but instead she pitied him that he had been so easily swayed by Camilla’s scheming.
‘Oh, darling,’ came her father’s voice. His wife stopped in the doorway and turned to him. ‘Let me tell Geraldine.’
‘Of course. Maybe tell her it was your idea. She’ll accept it better that way.’ With that Camilla bustled across the hallway towards the library. No doubt to contact her aunt.
It was just over a month later, the start of 1941, when Fitz’s father informed her of the decision they’d made on her behalf. Fitz didn’t argue or protest. She sat patiently on the sofa of the drawing room while her father explained his reasoning. She was only half listening. His speech was purely a formality. There was no discussion to be had.
She looked across the room and through the French doors of the first-floor sitting room which led out onto a veranda overlooking the grounds of Badcombe House.
The trees were bare of their leaves, the branches stark against the murky patchwork of the grey and white sky.
She had missed being airborne but knew it wouldn’t be long before she was up in the sky again.
‘Did you hear me?’
Fitz turned her attention back to her father and realised she had been daydreaming. ‘Yes. Yes, I did,’ she replied. ‘You want me to go to Aberdeenshire as a companion to Camilla’s aunt. And for my own safety.’
Her father eyed her with a mix of surprise and suspicion. ‘And you’re happy with that?’
Fitz smiled, as she mentally pulled the ace from her sleeve. ‘Actually, it won’t be necessary to send me to Aberdeenshire,’ she said. ‘Whilst I appreciate the thought it’s been given, you won’t need to consider me for much longer.’
Her father frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’ve signed up to join the Air Transport Auxiliary service.’ The sense of satisfaction at that announcement lifted her spirits. She didn’t want to hurt her father but sure as eggs were eggs, she wasn’t going to Aberdeenshire.
‘What? You never said? You didn’t consult me?’ her father blustered.
‘I wasn’t consulted about Aberdeenshire,’ replied Fitz. ‘However, I’m twenty-two years old and, as such, I don’t need to consult anyone.’
‘Well, I won’t let you go,’ said her father. ‘I don’t agree with this ridiculous notion of joining the ATA. What on earth do you plan on doing there? I thought you enjoyed working as a land girl.’
‘Look, I’ve been working as a land girl for the past year, working for the ATA is no different. Instead of tractors, it’s aeroplanes. It would be such a waste of time and money not to put my skills as a pilot to good use.’
‘But you can always fly after the war,’ protested her father. ‘At least working on the farm, you’re safe and if you did go to Aberdeenshire, even safer.’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ said Fitz. ‘I don’t want to go to Aberdeenshire. It would be my worst nightmare come true. I’d be bored silly and end up getting myself into bother trying to find something fun to do.’ She met her father’s gaze. ‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass Camilla.’
Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds remarkably like blackmail to me.’
‘Now, why would I do that?’ Fitz gave her most angelic smile.
Edward gave a grunt. ‘Why, indeed?’
Fitz leaned forward. ‘Please, Pa. I really want to do this. I’m old enough to join with or without your blessing.’
There was a look of sadness on her father’s face. ‘You remind me of your mother at times like this,’ he said, picking up the photograph of Fitz’s mother that he kept on his desk, alongside one of Camilla. ‘She knew her own mind, too.’ He studied it for a moment before setting it back down. ‘Truth be told, the thought of something happening to you …’ His voice trailed off.
For a moment Fitz was taken aback by her father’s openness. He rarely showed any vulnerability. She went around to his side of the desk and crouched down, holding his hand.
