It was so dark in the house with the blackout curtains drawn that she tripped over the rug at the top of the stairs and thumped down the first three steps on her bottom.
“Ow!” She tried to stifle a groan.
“Shh! Keep it down,” hissed a voice in the darkness below. As Edie heaved herself to her feet, she could just make out the shadowy figure of Gus in the gloom of the kitchen.
She scrambled down the last few steps to join him. She didn’t need to ask why he was awake too as another yell rang out from the floor above.
“Poor Uncle Peter,” she whispered.
“Shall we get out of here?” suggested Gus. “We could go down to the railway.”
“All right,” she agreed, feeling her way towards the back door.
Perhaps they’d be in time to see the Dark Demon hurtling past again. But as they stepped on to the porch, Edie saw that they were probably too late. The first light of dawn was already tinting the sky, turning it from deep soot black to swirling grey. It was raining too, and the wind she’d heard at the blacked-out windows was stronger than she’d thought, whipping round the side of the house in a blustery summer squall.
She felt a sudden twist of panic – would Fliss still fly in this weather? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her. But, more than anything, she didn’t want her taking risks.
“Should we go back?” Gus whispered, holding his palm out beyond the porch to feel the rain.
“No. Let’s keep going.” She stamped her feet into her wellington boots. “It’s only drizzling really.” It wasn’t true, but she felt better as soon as she said it. The ATA wouldn’t stop flying just because of a bit of rain, even if it was quite heavy. This was England. They’d never get anything done if they were afraid of getting wet. “We could borrow those,” she said, pointing to a couple of dusty old mackintoshes hanging in the porch.
“Good idea!” Gus took a long black one, which probably belonged to Uncle Peter. Hers was dark green or navy, she couldn’t quite tell in the half-light, but it smelt of dust and wax and, very faintly, of Aunt Roberta – not Chanel perfume like Fliss, but dried lavender.
“Come on.” They began to run towards the railway line, the wind buffeting against them. The coat was far too big for Edie, but she was glad of it, and she turned the collar up against the rain. She was pleased she had put her wellies on too. The grass in the meadow had grown long in the last few sunny weeks and it was soaking wet around the hem of her nightdress.
As soon as they were far enough away from the house not to see it behind them in the gloom, Edie slowed down. It was easier to walk than to run on the soggy ground, especially with the wind in her face.
After a few more paces, she stopped completely. The rain was pelting down now. She threw her head back and let it fall on her cheeks.
“Sure you don’t want to go back?” said Gus.
“No point.” Edie laughed. “We’re soaking wet already!” She opened her mouth and tried to catch the raindrops. As she stood there, she thought she heard a sound. Not just the wind but a low, buzzing drone.
“Listen.” She caught hold of Gus’s arm. “Can you hear it?”
Gus cocked his head.
“I think it’s a plane,” he said, tilting his face towards the sky. He held his hand up to protect his eyes from the rain.
“Can you see anything?” asked Edie. All she could make out in the dim light were heavy clouds. The rain was driving down in spears. Even so, she felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps Fliss was flying over already. Belinda Barton-Withers had said the women delivering planes were often up at the crack of dawn.
She ran forward, stumbling towards the higher ground. “We’ll get a better view up here,” she called over her shoulder to Gus. She slipped on the soggy slope, her hands plunging into muddy soil. As she stood up, she saw a flash of bright light on the horizon and heard a great boom of thunder.
“It’s a storm,” cried Gus. And he opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to say something, but Edie couldn’t hear his words. There was another crack of lightning and the air was filled with a great booming roar – not thunder this time, but the unmistakable whir of a plane’s engine almost on top of them.
A dark shadow burst out of the clouds, and a huge bomber loomed above, like a giant iron bird.
“It’s so low,” cried Edie, as it spluttered over their heads. Was this Fliss, swooping down for her beat-up?
“Too low!” yelled Gus.
There was a blaze of orange light in the grey sky. Edie shielded her eyes, thinking for a moment that it was another flash of lightning streaking across the sky. Then she realized the light was coming from the plane. It was on fire.
“No!” cried Edie. She clutched her stomach.
“It’s been hit,” yelled Gus. “It’s going to crash.” There was a terrible booming sound and he pushed Edie to the ground.
She hurled him aside and staggered to her feet.
“Edie, don’t… ” Gus grabbed the hem of her coat and tried to pull her back, but she slipped her arms out of the mackintosh and wriggled free.
“Fliss,” she screamed, running forward. The stricken plane was plunging down towards the thick trees in the wood on the other side of
