Free The Suicide Exhibition: The Never War (Never War 1) by Justin Richards Page B

down the street – it was empty.
    ‘It’s all right,’ the woman said. ‘I know where they’re going. Tell me who you are and what you’re up to and I’ll let you in on the secret.’
    ‘You work with them?’ Guy asked.
    She laughed, and folded her arms. ‘That’s not likely, is it. Well?’ she prompted.
    ‘Guy Pentecross.’ The ‘Major’ might just intimidate her – though she didn’t look like she intimidated easily.
    ‘Sarah Diamond,’ she responded.
    Guy gestured across the road. ‘There’s a pub just down there. The Red Tavern. Let me buy you a drink, and I’ll tell you what I can.’

CHAPTER 10
    I’LL HAVE A half of bitter, thank you.’
    Guy thought he made a good job of hiding his surprise. But when he returned with his own pint and Sarah’s half, she smiled.
    ‘Developed a taste for it trying to keep up with the other flyers.’
    That surprised him even more. ‘You’re a pilot?’
    ‘I’m with the Air Transport Auxiliary.’
    Guy nodded. He knew that the ATA was responsible for delivering new or repaired planes to where they needed to be. It was a huge logistical exercise to make sure the right planes were in the right places when they were needed.
    ‘Isn’t that part of the RAF?’ he asked.
    ‘No, we’re technically civilian. That means the ATA has to recruit pilots who aren’t suitable for frontline duties.’
    ‘Like women.’
    She put down her beer and glared at him. ‘It’s a matter of opinion,’ she said levelly, ‘but yes. Also pilots who’ve been invalided out of the RAF but can still fly a plane, and citizens of countries that are neutral but who want to do their bit.’
    ‘Like America?’
    ‘Don’t be fooled by my accent. I might sound like a Yank, but I’m as British as you are. Well, half as British – on my dad’s side.’
    Guy tried to imagine the woman sitting opposite him in the cockpit of a plane rather than in the corner of a crowded pub. The hint of anger and steel he’d just seen from her made it easier. Yes, he thought, this was a woman who had the determination, skill and courage needed to be a pilot.
    ‘Sorry if I’ve been making assumptions.’
    Her expression softened. ‘People do. Don’t worry about it. But I guess you’re wondering how being an ATA pilot got me following Sergeant Green and Miss Manners.’
    ‘Is that the woman’s name?’
    She picked up her beer, looked at it, then put it down again. She was looking past Guy, though he could tell she wasn’t focused on anyone or anything else. She was staring back into her memories.
    ‘I guess it all started a few months ago, back in early May…’
    Sarah loved flying. She could fly anything.
    Almost all the aircraft in service with the RAF had the same basic instrument layout, so any pilot could fly any plane. But that didn’t mean they handled the same. She didn’t care. Even the twin-engine Avro Anson she was currently delivering could get Sarah Diamond into the sky, and the sky was where she loved to be.
    One day, she promised herself, she’d fly fighter planes. For the moment, though, Hurricanes and Spitfires were the preserve of the ATA’s male pilots. But yes, one day… For now, she sacrificed the speed of nimbler aircraft and made do with the exhilaration of flying through a clear blue sky, of feeling alone in the world, of seeing her father’s native England spread out beneath her like an eiderdown of quilted fields and hedgerows.
    The Avro Anson was used mainly as a training aircraft for pilots of the larger Avro Lancaster bomber, though it could carry a decent cargo and also played a role in maritime reconnaissance. It performed well enough, and the conditions generally back in early May, and especially today, had been ideal for flying. She had the sky above Essex to herself.
    The first she saw was the shadow. It crept over the cockpit canopy like a dark cloud edging across the sun. But, glancing up, Sarah saw that the shape was too solid, too regular to be a