Free Two Blackbirds by Garry Ryan Page B

chewed the potato. “I need a forty-eight hour pass for the twenty-first and twenty-second of this month.” Linda cut a piece of fish with her fork, then speared the morsel, and touched it to her tongue. She blew on it.
    Sharon chewed. It must be a man. “Milton.”
    â€œI said no questions.” Linda popped the piece of fish into her mouth.
    â€œWhat’s his last name? Now, that was a question.” Sharon cut a potato in half, speared one side, and blew on it.
    Linda rolled her eyes. “If you must know, it’s Cardinal.”
    â€œSo you have been talking.” Sharon put the tip of her tongue on the potato. “These are so good.”
    Linda put her knife and fork down. “Well?”
    â€œWhen was the last time you had a leave? By that I mean, all you do is fly, and then you fly some more. The last time you had a day off was when we flew the Storch home.”
    Linda blushed.
    â€œI’ll talk with Mother in the morning. Just write the dates down for me so I get them right.” Sharon began to dig into her supper.
    â€œI hope you won’t tell Michael or my mother about this.”
    Sharon shook her head. “Mum’s the word.”

CHAPTER 10
    [TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1944]
    Mother said, “There’s fog in the forecast. If the weather begins to close in, just put it down at the nearest airfield and wait for it to clear. The war will go on just fine without you.” Sharon watched as Mother handed Molly a chit.
    â€œWhere are you off to?” Sharon asked.
    â€œIt says a Magister at RAF Upavon.” Molly revealed all of her healthy teeth as she smiled.
    â€œNeigh!”
    Sharon turned in time to see a pilot using her right foot like a hoof. The woman, whose name was Patricia, turned to Lady Ginette for approval. “Patricia? Something wrong with your foot?” Sharon asked.
    Patricia was shorter than Lady Ginette and about fifty pounds lighter. The rouge was bright on her cheeks. Still, her face reddened.
    Lady Ginette did not turn around.
    Sharon turned back to Molly. “Remember what Mother said about the weather.” Molly nodded, then hefted her parachute and shoulder bag before making her way to the duty Anson.
    Mother handed a chit to Sharon. She took it.
    He used his index finger to indicate Sharon should come closer. In a whisper, he said, “I’ve got the last Swordfish delivery for Scapa Flow.” He held up a chit. “This’ll keep Patricia out of trouble for a day or two.” He smiled.
    Sharon said, “Thank you,” and left.
    Three hours later, cloud and fog closed in, forcing her away from her destination. Sharon checked the maps in her side pockets. She turned the fighter west in an ever-narrowing sky. Ten minutes later, she spotted Kirkbride just inland from Moricambe Bay on her left. The airfield was on the northwest coast of England, closer to Belfast than to London. The runway was an X at the centre of yellow fields of rape. Sharon throttled back, and as the speed of the Corsair dropped, she lowered the flaps, then the landing gear. She looked west, where the fog was sifting in from the bay just as it disappeared from view. Her hands worked the controls instinctively. Just sixty more seconds and I’ll be on the ground. She took a long, slow breath to calm her nerves and clear her mind. This kind of weather could kill a pilot as surely as the guns of an enemy fighter. She lined up on finals, eased the throttle back, and checked that her wheels were down.
    The runway disappeared ahead of the blue nose of the navy fighter. She looked out the right side of the canopy as the wheels touched down. When she reached the end of the runway, she checked the location of the tower and turned right to taxi toward the green hangars next to it.
    The fog wafted over her canopy and the tower disappeared. She concentrated on staying lined up on the taxiway by looking out the left side at the edge of the tarmac.