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Izzie had seen barrage balloons dotting strategic places across the London skyline to try to deter Luftwaffe efforts to dive-bomb the city. However, she hadn’t really thought about what went into making one of them fly. The work was physical, done at all hours and in all weather except high wind, and she swiftly learned that the balloons themselves weren’t necessarily a deterrent the way anti-aircraft guns were. Instead, their job was to haul up and down the unmanned balloons to try to make it harder for German bombers to hit their targets accurately. A well-flying balloon could mean the difference between a direct hit and minimal damage.

“Tension four hundred weight. No slack on drum!” Molly called.

“Start winch!” shouted Corporal Tennyson.

“Start winch!” replied Molly. “Haul in winch!”

The winch groaned as it pulled in the balloon’s steel cable.

“All right, ladies. Take her to bed!” shouted Corporal Tennyson.

The girls on the ground lined up to catch the winch cable and wrestle it steady until Grace could secure it to the tether at the back of their balloon vehicle. Then Molly climbed into the lorry’s driver’s seat while the rest of them ran around to the back and caught up the tail rope.

Slowly, Molly steered them into the base’s balloon hangar while the rest of them followed, keeping the balloon from swinging around. As soon as they were in their designated place, they anchored the balloon and began the breakdown process.

When, finally, the balloon was deflated and everything in its place, Corporal Tennyson clapped his hands in front of him.

“Excellent work, ladies. A much smoother ascent and descent than yesterday, and your time has decreased as well. You’ve all earned your cup of tea in the mess today,” he said.

The little group cheered.

Corporal Tennyson allowed them the tiniest of smiles before dismissing them.

As soon as they were released, the merry chatter and laughter that Izzie had come to associate with their unit started up. The seven of them moved in a pack, spilling out of the hangar and onto the tarmac of the airbase. Since arriving, they’d been encouraged to bond as a unit, living together, working together, eating together, and Izzie, much to her surprise, had come to like the other girls. She even managed to get on with Nancy, who probably had the warmest of hearts once you peeled back all of her nettles. However, she would forever be thankful to whichever officer had assigned Alexandra and her to the same unit. In a new group of seven, it felt good to have one friend she’d known from before.

Amelia, as always, forged a path for them at the head of the group, while Alexandra fell into step with Izzie as they walked back together.

“We’re getting better,” said Alexandra.

“That we are,” she agreed, rolling her shoulder.

“Is something the matter?” asked Alexandra with concern.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I nearly slipped when I was doing my first checks and I had to brace myself on the rope. I feel as though I’ve nearly wrenched my shoulder out of its socket.”

“Nothing a rest and a good cup of tea can’t fix,” said Alexandra.

“It’s funny to think that not long ago the worst injury I could do to myself was run the sewing machine over my finger or cut myself with a pair of shears.”

“Run a sewing machine over your finger? Please don’t tell me you’ve actually done that,” said Alexandra, looking a little green at the thought.

Izzie laughed. “When I was thirteen. The needle went clear through the pad of my index finger. It was my own fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That sounds horrible,” said Alexandra.

She shrugged. “Mum bandaged me up and told me that it was a rite of passage for every seamstress and that I’d never do it again if I had any sense.”

“And did you?” asked Alexandra.

“I always make sure I know where my fingers are these days.”

Ahead of them, Lottie gave a cheery wave to one of the members of the RAF ground crew working on a plane near the entrance to one of the hangars, earning Lottie a gentle smack on the arm from Nancy.

“He didn’t even bother to show up for your date at the NAAFI last week,” Izzie heard Nancy say.

“That was all a misunderstanding. He said that he was made to scrub his barracks floor because he’d failed inspections that morning,” said Lottie.

Nancy spun around, walking backward as she appealed to Izzie and Alexandra. “Can you talk some sense into her?”