‘Claire. How do you do?’ Claire said, shaking Ellen’s hand.
‘Thanks for waiting for me. I was dreading going in on my own.’
‘Me too.’ Claire lifted her hand again and, with her forefinger poised before the bell, said, ‘Shall we?’
Ellen hunched up her shoulders and, with her lips pressed tightly together, nodded.
No sooner had Claire pushed the brass button than the door opened. ‘Welcome to Dunham House,’ said a tall, grey-haired man in a black suit. He looked from Claire to Ellen. ‘Miss Dudley and Miss Southall?’
‘I’m Claire Dudley.’
‘And I’m Ellen Southall.’
‘If you’d like to follow me,’ the man said, taking both suitcases. ‘Two of the gentlemen on the training course have already arrived and are in the sitting room.’ As they walked through the entrance hall the man dropped the cases at the side of a wide stairway. ‘They will be taken to your room,’ he said, opening the door opposite.
Claire followed Ellen into the sitting room. With matching settees and chairs, thick rugs on a parquet floor and tapestry-style drapes tied back with gold tasselled plaits, the room reminded her of the sitting room at Foxden Hall. In the hearth a fire blazed. ‘Come and warm yourselves, ladies. I’m Johnny Tremaine and this is Nick Wood,’ the taller of the two men said.
‘Claire Dudley.’ Claire shook Johnny’s hand, and then Nick’s.
‘And I’m Ellen Southall.’ Johnny took Ellen’s hand, holding it for so long that Nick waved his hello over Johnny’s shoulder. While the boys made a fuss of Ellen, Claire wandered over to one of the tall sash windows. The view reminded her of Foxden, before the war. The fields and meadows appeared to roll on forever and the drive leading to the house was lined with trees.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ Nick said, suddenly at Claire’s side.
‘Yes, it reminds me of where I was brought up.’
‘Oh? Should I touch my forelock when I speak to you?’
Claire laughed. ‘I don’t think people do that these days. But no, my dad was head groom on a country estate and we lived in a tied cottage. The lord and his family were good people, but the only thing estate workers’ kids shared with them was the view.’
Claire and Nick turned as the door opened and a waitress brought in tea. ‘Come on,’ Nick said, ‘or Johnny will eat all the biscuits.’
‘I’ll be mum,’ Ellen said, pouring the tea. Sitting round the table, they talked about the training and what they hoped to get from it. The others didn’t say why they were on the course, so Claire didn’t either.
At half past six, the RAF training instructor, Martin Richards, from Ringway’s Parachute Training Squadron arrived. After introducing himself he spoke briefly. ‘There are dozens of trainees like yourselves at Ringway. And, like you, they have been split into groups of four. Stay close and get to know each other until you can trust each other completely. Watch each other’s backs, as you would do in the field. You are Group A, the first of my trainees to jump.’ Martin moved between them handing out timetables and briefing notes. Claire glanced at the others. Their faces showed nervous eagerness and excitement, as she suspected her own did. ‘Study the briefing notes until you are able to recite them backwards. Before you go up, you will know your chute and equipment as well as you know your own bodies. If you don’t, you won’t be going up. It’s as simple as that. Get an early night – you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’
The four trainees stood to attention and saluted. Martin returned the salute and left.
Claire and Ellen went up to their room to change, meeting the lads twenty minutes later for dinner. When they had finished eating, Johnny tried to persuade them to go to his and Nick’s room for drinks. Claire said she wanted to study the briefing notes and Ellen, blushing, said perhaps another night. Johnny pretended to be hurt, but Nick put his arm around his neck and strong-armed him out of the dining room.
In their bedroom Ellen confessed to Claire that she thought Johnny was nice looking and if he asked her to walk out with him she might. ‘What about you? Do you like Nick?’ she asked.
‘He seems very nice. I like him, but that’s all. Besides, he likes you.’
‘Me?’ Ellen said, sounding surprised. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘He goes doe-eyed when he looks at you, and when you speak he hangs on your every word.’ Ellen sat on her bed and picked up her notes, but made no attempt to read them. ‘I’m here to learn how to jump out of an aeroplane,’ Claire said, ‘not to find a sweetheart. It’s important to me that I become proficient in parachuting. So no boys for me.’
The car arrived the following morning soon after breakfast. It left with its cargo of trainees at 08:30 hours, arriving at RAF Ringway shortly afterwards. Although she was nervous Claire entered the main building first and followed the signs to the lecture hall, or school room, as Martin Richards called it. On the door was a hand-written note that said IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO LEARN, DO NOT ENTER THIS ROOM. ‘Better behave myself then,’ Johnny said, as the four of them trooped in.
‘I intend to,’ Claire said. If things went wrong it would mean at best a broken leg, at worst a broken neck. Claire committed to memory everything she was told about the parachute, the transportation of equipment, how to fasten and unfasten the harness – and how to drop it if she landed in a tree or
