Free The Bannister Girls by Jean Saunders Page A

apparent admission. ‘Please go to your room until your father has seen this disgusting piece of literature, and we decide what’s to be done about it.’
    Angel looked at her wordlessly. Jacques’ letter had given her hope, support and love, and without it she was lost. But her mother’s face was implacable. Angel turned and rushed out of the room, knowing that the fatuous phrase of feeling as though one’s world was falling apart, was a truism after all.

Chapter 5
    Black clouds scudded across the dawn sky, and there was a smell of rain in the air. It made no difference. Jacques de Ville’s flight was scheduled to leave for France that morning, to report to Brighton Belle, the code-named headquarters of his squadron. The base was very near to the Belgian border, and previously Jacques had only flown as crewman on the recce trips over enemy lines.
    Now, he was a pilot in his own right. The all-too-brief training over the skies of Salisbury Plain was over, and he was at the controls of his own two-seater aircraft. His observer and gunner, Phil Brakes, was seated in front of him. The brief fear that shivered through Jacques was quickly smothered, giving way to exhilaration. The aircraft was his responsibility, and two lives depended on his skill.
    He prodded Phil, who gave him the thumbs-up sign as the propeller was swung by the ground mechanic, and the shuddering engine notes nearly deafened him. The machine shook and throbbed as if threatening to tear apart at any moment, but as it did so, Jacques felt excitement overtake all other emotions.
    In his eyes, to fly was the nearest thing to heaven, literally and metaphorically. To soar into the clouds was a sensation unknown to most. To experience the dense sea of cotton wool below, and then to emerge into brilliant blue skies and stunning sunlight was to be humbled by eternity and the vastness of space.
    His artistic eye could appreciate the spectacular scenario; the temperament of his race could tighten his throat and make him wish he had a poet’s words to express his feelings as the aircraft trundled over the uneven grass, preparing to take off, the others in his flight gathering behind him like attendant worker bees…
    Not everyone saw things the way he did, of course. He knew better than to enthuse too lyrically about the changing skies as he flew into the sun or back to base through a vaporous indigo evening.
    But most of his squadron pals were eager for his sketches of themselves lounging nonchalantly against their craft, to keep as souvenirs or to send back home to wife or sweetheart. They were only just discovering that they were the elite new breed of heroes … Jacques smiled thinly as the six craft in his flight moved forward along the flattened grass in ragged formation, preparing for the long slow invasion of the sky.
    â€˜Bloody olive oil!’ Phil’s voice yelled back at him as the spurt of oil from the engine drifted back into their faces as usual, ingraining their skins almost before they were airborne. ‘No wonder most of us have the daily shits! They say the poor bloody infantry are suffering with dysentery in the trenches. They should try swallowing this muck.’
    â€˜Keep your mouth shut, then you won’t swallow so much of it,’ Jacques shouted forward, his voice almost lost in the roar of the other aircraft beginning to bounce skywards towards the grey sheen of the English Channel.
    â€˜Is that an order, Cap’n?’ Phil said in his cracked Norfolk accent.
    â€˜No! Just common sense!’
    Jacques swore loudly as the aircraft dipped and shuddered alarmingly in a pocket of turbulence. The first few minutes were always hazardous, hard on the nerves as the heart palpated and hands grew sweaty as the pilot tried to keep the joystick steady and the wings level.
    And then, as though drifting into another world, the turbulence ended; you were above the clouds; you were floating; and