Beauty Chorus, The (6 page)

‘Daddy’s working with the Air Ministry in London. I don’t think he likes being stuck behind a mahogany Spitfire.’

‘Still driving too fast?’

Evie laughed. She liked Pauline already. ‘Yes. Daddy likes everything fast,’ she said to the girls. ‘Cars, women …’ When she turned to Pauline she could see she
had overstepped the mark, and blushed.

‘Your hours are a bit low.’ Pauline frowned as she scanned Evie’s application. ‘We need at least two hundred, ideally more.’

‘But I’m a good pilot,’ she countered. ‘I would have had more hours but I had to pay for them myself. I taught French,’ she said to Stella. ‘Daddy
didn’t want me to fly so he wouldn’t cough up for the lessons, and then the war came, and I had to stop just before I got my instrument rating.’ Evie thought of the endless nights
she had spent studying the flight manuals, the long hours she had put in teaching herself far more than she needed to know since she had been grounded. She was desperate to get in the air
again.

Pauline laughed lightly. ‘I taught violin to pay for my lessons.’ She scanned Evie’s application. ‘Where did you train?’

‘I learnt at Stag Lane.’

‘With Captain Baker?’

‘No, he left in ’34 before I—’

‘Shame.’ Pauline weighed the girls up. She had taken the measure of them quickly. Her clear, bright eyes were fizzing with concealed humour as she looked at Evie, Stella and Megan in
turn.
Adventure, revenge, experience
, she thought to herself. Her gaze turned to Evie. ‘You obviously have friends in high places. Most girls wouldn’t have made it through the
door.’

‘Let me do the test flight. Then, if I’m no good I won’t bother you again.’

‘Right.’ Pauline pushed her chair back and handed each of the girls a typed sheet of paper. ‘Take these out to the airstrip. Mrs Grainger, you will go first, then Miss Jones,
and finally Miss Chase. Each of you will do your flight test in turn. If all goes well you’ll be brought back for a final chat with the Chief Flying Instructor, and then we can sort out the
paperwork. Good luck.’

Stella and Evie sat outside the Recruitment Office waiting for Megan to do her circuits.

‘Do you think you’ve passed?’ Evie asked, her foot tapping impatiently.

Stella shrugged, and shook her head as Evie offered her a Players cigarette from a tortoiseshell case. ‘No thanks, I don’t smoke.’

‘Really? I thought everyone did.’

‘I used to. Richard, my husband, he didn’t like to see women smoking.’

Evie clicked at her gold lighter. ‘Damn, must be out of fuel. I’m just going to cadge a light from someone.’

She walked along the Ops Corridor to the mess, past offices piled high with files and charts. Several pilots were waiting for their aircraft to be called, playing bridge, reading
The
Times
, listening to the radio. She spotted Teddy chatting with some of the men by the canteen.

‘Excuse me, do any of you have a light?’

‘Of course, Miss Chase.’ Teddy pulled a black Zippo from his trouser pocket, and the lighter flared. ‘Sorry,’ he said, laughing as she recoiled. ‘We chaps tend to
use petrol in them. Won it off one of the Yanks in a game of cards.’

‘You’ll have someone’s eyebrows off with that, sir,’ the tea lady said as she poured cups of steaming tea for them from the urn.

‘Don’t you worry, Jean,’ Teddy said. ‘Can I tempt you?’ He offered Evie a cup.

‘No thank you.’ As she took a drag of her cigarette, her hand shook.

‘Nervous?’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Once I’m in the air, it will be fine.’

‘I’ll tell you a secret.’ Teddy leant closer. ‘We’re all a little nervous every time we go up.’ The men around him eyed her curiously. ‘These are First
Officers Doyle and Stent.’

‘Pleasure to meet you,’ she said. ‘So if I pass, I’ll be flying under you?’

‘Under, on top, we’re all very friendly round here.’ Doyle’s eyes glinted.

Teddy shot him a warning glare. ‘What FO Doyle means is we work as a team here. We’re all civilians, apart from the RAF chaps they sometimes second over to us.’ He took a sip
of his tea. ‘Some of us were in the forces, but can’t fly now for one reason or another.’ He tapped at his leg. ‘No wonder they call us the Ancient and Tattered.’

‘Miss Chase?’ A young orderly marched into the mess.

‘Yes?’ She looked up.

‘Miss, the instructor has been waiting for you. If I were you I wouldn’t keep him hanging around any longer.’

Evie ran out onto the airfield, wishing she had worn flat shoes as her heels sank into the grass. On the runway, an RAF yellow Tiger Moth stood waiting, and her heart began to
beat faster, stronger, as the familiar smell of doped canvas mixed with petrol and oil reached her. At least it was a plane she had flown before. On the other side of the fuselage she could see a
pair of legs.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she called out as she stumbled around. ‘I …’ Her mouth dropped as Beau turned to her. ‘Oh no. You …’

‘Yes, me. We haven’t been formally introduced, Miss Chase. Wing Commander Beaufort, scheduled to do your flight test,’ he said as he checked his watch, ‘five minutes
ago.’

Evie gave him her most winning smile. ‘Can’t we bend the rules?’

‘It’s too late.’ He slammed his clipboard shut.

‘What do you mean it’s too late?’

‘I’m not flying with some chit of a girl who can’t even be bothered to turn up for her test on time.’

As he strode away, Evie chased after him. ‘Now just hold on a minute! I’m a damn good pilot.’

‘So you said. It’s bad enough they’ve dragged me in today to check new pilots.’ His pace slowed as they reached the offices. ‘Margaret Cunnison is up to her eyes
testing recruits. It seems they’re short of pilots.’ He held the door open for her, but instead of walking inside she squared up to him. ‘But not short enough.’

Evie stretched herself up to her full five foot two inches. ‘I’m not leaving here until you give me a test flight.’

Beau sighed wearily. ‘Why don’t you save us all some time and just go home and count your diamonds, Miss Chase?’ He unzipped his black leather flying jacket as they walked into
the offices. Evie could see Stella and Megan signing paperwork with Pauline and the Chief Flying Instructor. Megan gave her the thumbs up.

Evie’s first reaction was to slap him, hard, but she restrained herself. How dare he speak to her like that? ‘You, sir, may be an officer but you’re no gentleman.’

Beau frowned, but a faint smile flickered on his lips as he turned away. As she watched him stride up the corridor, she realised he was her only chance. She ran after him. ‘Wait,
please.’ She caught at Beau’s sleeve. ‘You have to at least let me try.’

‘I don’t
have
to do anything.’

‘Actually, old boy, I think you’ll find you do,’ Teddy said smoothly as he appeared at his side, Doyle and Stent close behind.

Beau ignored him. ‘We need pilots we can rely on,’ he said to Evie.

‘But Miss Chase was with me, Beau.’ Teddy’s voice was sibilant, threatening. ‘I was briefing her about her role at the ATA.’

‘What role? She hasn’t got a role.’

‘Yet.’

Evie watched the exchange, her heart racing. ‘Test her yourself if you’re that keen.’ Beau tried to barge past the men, but Stent stopped him. ‘Oh, I forgot, of course
you can’t—’

‘What a horrid thing to say!’ Evie cut in, thinking of Teddy’s injured leg. Beau looked at her curiously.

‘I’d remind you who you are talking to, sir,’ Teddy warned him. ‘You will fly with whomever we ruddy well tell you to.’

Beau glared at Teddy. ‘Right, Miss Chase,’ he said. ‘You think you can fly? Come on then.’

‘Good luck.’ Teddy winked as she followed Beau out onto the airstrip.

‘Pretty girl,’ Doyle said as they watched her walk outside.

‘Isn’t she. You know who her father is?’ Teddy slipped his hand in his pocket. ‘Lucky Chase, the jockey. The grandfather made a fortune in steel. They have more money
than they know what to do with.’

‘Do you think she can fly?’

‘Let’s hope so. The more pretty girls around here the merrier.’

Beau pulled on his leather flying helmet. ‘What happened, Miss Chase, did you tire of horses? Most little girls simply move on to boys rather than airplanes.’ He
glanced down at her shoes. ‘You’re not flying in those heels.’

‘I thought it was just an interview this morning. I hadn’t realised you’d actually want me to fly.’

Beau exhaled. ‘That is generally what a flight test involves.’

‘I can fly barefoot,’ Evie said as she kicked off her heels.

‘Perhaps you can, Miss Chase, but you’re certainly not going to with me in the back seat.’ He tossed his clipboard onto a bench. ‘Wait here.’ He reappeared a few
moments later and handed her a pair of boots. ‘These should fit you.’

‘Thank you,’ Evie said.

Beau strode ahead to the aircraft and Evie quickly slipped her cold feet into the boots, before racing after him. Beau indicated she should take the front seat. Without her heels Evie had to
look up at him. ‘You seem rather taller now.’

‘Haven’t you heard, Miss Chase? With flying, the chap who has height wins the battle.’

‘We’ll see.’ She had to hitch up her narrow skirt to climb into the cockpit, and she caught him watching her legs. ‘You know, a girl never tires of horses; they are much
more reliable than men.’ She adjusted the Gosport communications tube as he slid into the back seat. ‘And a lot more fun,’ she said under her breath. Pulling her mink coat up
around her chin, she looked around the high-sided cockpit and felt the old, familiar calm descend on her as she checked the control panel.

Beau’s voice reached her through the speaker tube. ‘Contact.’

Evie craned her neck trying to listen to him as the ground crew swung the propeller and the Gypsy engine roared into life. The crew pulled the chocks away, and at her touch she felt the plane
begin to move.

‘Right,’ he called. ‘Climb to 2000 feet, turn left, turn right – first with a gentle turn then with a steep bank. Then a forced landing.’

‘Is that all?’ Evie called back to him as she steered the plane into the wind. They raced across the bumpy grass strip, the entire plane rattling and vibrating. Her heart was
thundering with a mix of excitement and nerves.
Come on, Evie
, she thought to herself as they gathered speed.
You can show him. Pull back on the stick gently …
Then they were
airborne, and all sense of speed vanished. She had to stop herself shouting out ‘Yes!’ with the sheer joy of being in the air again. The wire braces of the plane sang as she gained
height to 2000 feet, the fields and lanes beneath them slipping away to a patchwork of frosted greens. The drumming engine, the clean air were intoxicating – she hadn’t felt this alive
in months.

‘When you’re ready,’ Beau called through to her.

‘Gosh, yes, sorry.’ Evie banked the aircraft to the left. She wished she could fly on forever.

Too soon, she successfully completed her turns and had to head back into the circuit for a forced landing.
Right old girl
, she thought,
into the wind, 40 mph, glide
her in …
She held her breath as she slammed the old Moth in hard on the runway.

‘Good God, woman, I said forced landing, not crash landing,’ Beau yelled from the back seat as
she taxied to a halt. He leapt out, wincing slightly.

‘So?’ Evie pulled off her flying cap, shook out her glossy hair. She was breathless, exhilarated. He offered her his hand as she jumped down to the ground. ‘How did I do,
Beau?’

His face spun sharply to hers. ‘What did you call me?’

Evie felt a sense of sickening dread. Now he was sure to fail her. Awkwardly she realised she was still holding his hand, and she let it fall. ‘I’m sorry, I thought everyone called
you …’

‘It hardly seems appropriate any more.’ He gestured at the dressing on his face.

‘Nonsense,’ she said firmly. ‘You’re still a very handsome man.’

Beau made a couple of notes and signed off the test sheet. ‘I’m immune to flattery, and it’s too late to make any difference.’

Evie put her hands on her hips. ‘If you think for one moment I’d try and flirt my way in to this job …’

Beau held her gaze as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. ‘My name is Wing Commander Beaufort, but as a cadet you can call me sir.’

Beau walked to CFI MacMillan’s office and handed him the clipboard.

‘Thank you, Wing Commander,’ MacMillan said.

Without a word, Beau strode past Evie in the corridor.

‘Cocky bugger,’ she said under her breath as she watched him leave.

MacMillan burst out laughing as he read the notes. ‘Miss Chase? Do come in. I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve passed.’

‘I have?’ Evie said incredulously.

‘Very well as it happens.’ He indicated that she should sit, and Evie pulled up a chair. ‘Highly strung, temperamental, Miss Chase could be a fighter pilot,’ he read
aloud. MacMillan tossed the notes onto the desk. ‘Congratulations. In spite of your hours, you’re clearly a natural pilot. Some people are born to fly.’

‘Thank you.’ Evie couldn’t stop beaming. ‘I’ve done a lot of work, taught myself about instruments.’

‘Well you won’t be needing that with the ATA,’ he said briskly. ‘Now, here’s all the information about your appointment.’ He handed her a sheaf of papers.
‘You’ll be based here for your elementary training as a cadet. If all goes well, you’ll start out as a Third Officer ferrying Class 1 single-engine light planes to our squadrons;
Magisters, Moths and so on.’

‘It’s incredibly exciting! What about the Spitfire?’

‘Let’s walk before we run shall we?’ He hesitated. ‘This is a job many men and women would love to do, Miss Chase, but remember what you are taking on. I need you to be
cool, calm and collected at all times – a little adrenalin is good, but I’ve seen too many pilots lost thanks to a combination of excitement and lack of experience. I’ve also seen
chaps with thousands of hours cock up because they think they know it all and won’t listen to instructions. What I expect from my pilots is hard work, enthusiasm and a love of flying. We have
some first class pilots based here, and you can learn a lot from them. Talk to Joan Hughes – she’ll show you the ropes. She’s been with us a year now.’