“Yes, well, to hear them tell it, they’ll starve to death in a fortnight.” Barnaby sighed as a full pint was set before him. “They were already in a tizzy after I broke my news to them last week, now this.”
“What news?” Miles asked, his eyes moving to the door as it opened. He lost interest when a couple came in. Still no sign of Evelyn.
“I’ve gone and joined the RAF in the bombers,” Barnaby said with a grin.
Miles snapped his gaze back to Barnaby’s face and his eyebrows soared into his forehead.
“Have you really?!”
“Yes. It’s been frightfully dull now that everyone’s up and gone into the RAF or the Navy. Even old Ginger went and signed on as ground crew exec in the RAF. Decided I might as well get a piece of the action if they’re handing out slices. And Lord knows I’d be no good as a foot soldier. I joined up last month and leave the day after tomorrow.”
“Old Ginger went too?” Miles asked, stunned. “Can’t imagine why they took him!”
“Well they’re looking for anyone these days, aren’t they? I say, I’m here with some of the old crowd. We’re taking a jaunt into town. Why don’t you join us?”
“Sorry, but I’m meeting someone.”
“Well bring her along!” Barnaby said. “We’re meeting up with Lorry and Tony and some of the others in London. Come along. It’s bound to be a good time. We have reservations at the Savoy. I’m sure they’ll be able to squeeze two more in. Bound to, anyway, for Miles Lacey.”
Miles smiled wryly at the offhand reference to his social stature.
“I’d love to, but I’ll have to pass this time.”
“Well, we’re on the other side if you change your mind.” Barnaby picked up his pint. “It’s jolly good to see you again.”
“If I don’t see you, best of luck in the bombers,” Miles said, gripping his hand.
“And to you in the fighters!”
Barnaby disappeared into the crowd and Miles shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. So Barny had gone and joined up as well. Amazing, that. He’d always been a bit of a bookworm, Barny had. Then again, so was Bertie Rodford, and a better intelligence officer Miles had yet to meet. Perhaps old Barny would do well in the bombers.
The door to the pub burst open then to admit a laughing group of pilots. They exploded into the building in a muddle of flying hats, scarves, gloves and coats. They were singing some song or other, showing that this was not the first stop in their revels. Miles was just turning away with a chuckle when another burst of laughter made him look again. He blinked as Evelyn and three other WAAFs appeared from the center of the group. As he watched, Evelyn tilted her head back and said something in a low voice to the pilot next to her. His face turned a dull red and more laughter rang out.
Leaning against the bar, Miles was content just to watch her for a moment from a distance. She pulled off her gloves and unwound the scarf from around her neck, trying to look around the pub as she did so. One of the pilots plucked the cap off her head with a laugh and a cascade of blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders in thick waves. Miles grinned as she snatched her hat back and said something sharply to the guilty officer. More laughter greeted her words as the offending pilot grinned down at her, unrepentant.
A sudden rush of contentment went through him and Miles sipped his beer. He’d been waiting for two months to see her again, and he was far from disappointed. Seeing her at ease with the pilots from her new station, he smiled at the simple joy on her face. He realized with a start how lucky he was that she had driven to meet him here halfway between their bases. She had obviously made several new friends among the fighter pilots of Northolt, yet here she was anyway.
And she was here to see him.
Evelyn shook out her hair and turned to look around the crowded pub. The past hour and a half had been almost unbearable. It wasn’t that the pilots had been annoying, precisely. They simply refused to believe that she wanted to spend the evening with anyone other than themselves.
When she arrived back late from a training session in Scotland, she found that she’d missed the last bus that would bring her to Croxley Green to meet Miles for dinner. Luck had been on her side though: Fred had been hanging around, waiting for her. He offered her a lift on the ‘last bus to town, my dear’ and promised to drop her at the Fox and Hounds on the way. The ‘bus’, of course, had been his condemned car already filled with four other pilots and three WAAFs, sneaking out in the boot. Evelyn had been forced to sit on the lap of the pilot in the passenger’s seat, squeezed against the window.
Despite the discomfort, it was a merry group and Flying Officer Greggs was a young man who kept his hands to himself. Once they were well away from the airfield, Fred stopped the car to let the WAAFs out of the trunk. That was the first Evelyn learned of their presence. Enlisted aircraftwomen were not allowed to fraternize with officers, and they were just as shocked to see Evelyn as she was to see them. After a very tense moment, though, she had laughed and shrugged and waved them into the car. They piled onto the laps of the officers in the back and the laughter hadn’t stopped since.
After stopping at two pubs on the way, they finally pulled into the parking lot next to the Fox and Hounds. She was supposed to meet Miles here, but all she could see were blue uniforms and wide shoulders.
“Do you see him, love?” Fred’s
