Free Churchill’s Angels by Ruby Jackson Page A

was
not
anyone’s finest hour. There must be something better.
    She broached the subject with her father when they were together in the shop at closing time one day.
    ‘Dad, I want to join the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. You have to make Mum listen to me. Ensuring that everyone in the area gets their proper rations is not enough for me. I’m a good mechanic. Adair even said he could teach me to fly.’ She stopped; she had not expected that most precious secret to spill out.
    Fred looked at her, both love and concern in his eyes. ‘Fly, pet, fly, like a pilot in a plane?’
    ‘Of course, Dad. Adair says I’m just as clever as some of the men he teaches. He says I’m a great mechanic.’
    ‘Well, me and the lads taught you that, love, but a pilot in the WAAF, a lass from a shop in Dartford? He’s having you on, Daisy, and so I’ll tell him to his face.’
    ‘He meant I could be a pilot, Dad; no one’s saying anything about being a pilot in the WAAF. It’s the RAF has pilots.’
    ‘Happen he did mean it, you being a pilot, but he hasn’t been here in weeks, and you’ve not heard from him, else your mum would’ve told me. Forget him, Daisy. His kind aren’t for the likes of you. Not that you’re not as good as he is, every bit, but putting water and wine together spoils both.’ He looked at his daughter compassionately. ‘Don’t you go getting in over your head with this lad, Daisy. I know it’s exciting; it’s like what happens in pictures when the rich hero takes the poor girl off on his white horse to live happy. Pictures and stories isn’t real, Daisy. Don’t … no, you wouldn’t run after a lad, would you?’
    Daisy looked at her father, kind, caring, conscientious Fred Petrie, and knew that in many ways she was very lucky. ‘Dad, me and Adair, it’s not like that. We’re friends is all. We worked together on the engine. Smooth as honey, it’ll fly.’
    His look now was shrewd. ‘Then why do you want to try for the WAAF now, pet? You’ve no idea where he is or even if he’s alive.’
    The words struck Daisy like a slap and she almost reeled back. ‘What a dreadful thing to say. ’Course he’s alive but … but he’s busy and …’ Daisy stopped. In a moment she would be crying and if she started she felt that she might never stop. No word from Adair, but there had been no word from Sam or Ron or Phil either.
    ‘We have to face facts, pet. We’re all worried. Your friend is a pilot. They flew over Dunkirk helping to keep the stranded lads safe. Planes ditched, Daisy, and some got shot down.’
    ‘You have to tell Mum. I’m going to try. None of them’s dead and when Adair –
if
Adair – needs me or wants to teach me, he’ll find me easy enough.’
    Fred shook his head sadly but turned and left the shop. Daisy sat down and listened to his steps on the stairs.
    That night Rose persuaded Daisy to go dancing with her and some friends from the munitions factory. It was a chance for Daisy to wear an emerald-green rayon dress that Flora had altered for summer wear but which would not be out of place on the dance floor Apart from its attractive heart-shaped neckline with the yellow edging, it was spangled with white flowers, which Flora had crocheted on winter evenings. Daisy did try to enter into the spirit of the evening but she was aware that, apart from herself, everyone on the floor was actively involved in war work. She dismissed her time spent fire-watching and the hours she spent in the first-aid classes – it was not real work. Her father could talk as much as he liked about the necessity for honest shopkeepers in this time of trouble.
    It’s too easy, she said to herself. Apart from the few deliveries you make – and those will come to a halt if the rumours about petrol rationing are true – you don’t even have to go out in the rain. Time to come to a decision.
    Seeing her sister and her friends a happy part of the throng on the dance floor, Daisy slipped out. No