The FO nodded. ‘It isn’t often we get someone who is fluent in a language that isn’t their mother tongue.’ She continued reading. ‘If you speak French as well as you read and write it, you’ll be a perfect candidate. An asset,’ she said, more to herself than to Claire. Her eye was caught by something on the page. ‘Languages?’ she queried. The FO looked up from Claire’s notes. ‘Which other languages do you speak?’
‘A little Polish and some German. I--’ A spasm of pain took her breath. It was so severe, Claire thought she’d faint. She gripped the back of the chair in front of the FO’s desk with both hands and tried to keep her balance. She looked down at her feet, took a shallow breath, and looked back at the FO. ‘Argh!’ She had looked up too quickly. Her head was spinning. She tried to focus on her superior officer, but the light from the window behind her was suddenly bright and shimmering. It hurt her eyes. She closed them and slid to her knees.
‘Aircraftwoman Dudley?’ Claire was aware that the FO had left her seat and was crossing the room to the door. ‘Call the medics!’ she shouted to the WAAF who had shown Claire into the office.
Flight Officer Bingham helped Claire to her feet. ‘Sit down, Dudley,’ she said, prizing Claire’s hands from the back of the chair and helping her into it. ‘We’ll resume this conversation tomorrow.’
Feeling nauseous, Claire nodded. She daren’t speak in case she was sick. Shortly afterwards two medics arrived and after a few simple tests – holding one finger up, and then two, and moving them across Claire’s line of vision to make sure she was able to follow them – they agreed she wasn’t concussed. Arming Claire out of the FO’s office, the medics took her to the sickbay; and from there to the Royal Infirmary, in Lancaster.
With her ribs tightly bandaged, Claire walked slowly and stiffly to the appointment with Flight Officer Bingham.
‘I have the maintenance report for my car!’ the FO said, as soon as Claire was shown into her office. There was nothing Claire could say or do to get out of the inevitable ticking off that awaited her, so she braced herself to take it. ‘What the hell happened to cause you to career off the road into an oak tree? Have you seen the damage you’ve done to the Wolsey?’ Claire opened her mouth to apologise, but the FO cut her off. ‘It needs a right wing, headlights, bumper, and God knows what else. Apart from which, you and Aircraftwoman Mountjoy could have been killed. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?’
‘I’m sorry, Flight. A lorry drove into the back of us, and there was nothing I could do. The driver admitted responsibility. He said he didn’t see us. It was very foggy.’ The FO didn’t comment. ‘He did what he could to help at the scene, and then drove ACW Mountjoy and myself to the hospital in Lancaster, later bringing me here for my interview.’ Claire could have bitten her tongue. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the interview. She shot the FO a sideways glance. She was making notes on a large writing pad. Eyes front again, Claire hoped she’d said enough to get herself and Eddie off the hook; the lorry driver too.
The FO finished writing. ‘Continue.’
‘That’s it really, Flight. He said that, because his cab was high and the car low, he hadn’t seen it until it was too late. The Wolsey, being black, wouldn’t have been easy to see in thick fog, especially at night. From the position of the lorry after the accident, I --’
‘All right!’ The FO put her hand up. Claire waited for her response. It was some time before she spoke. ‘I can’t think why you would want to, but you’ve made a good case for the driver of the lorry, so I won’t be taking the matter any further. We’ll leave it to his employer to reprimand him.’ Flight Officer Bingham pushed the maintenance report to one side, put her elbows on the desk and clasped her hands. ‘As for not informing me about the accident, I should put you on a charge. What the hell were you thinking of?’
‘I’d hoped--’
‘I haven’t finished.’ Claire stopped speaking immediately, lifted her head and, in agony, stood to attention. ‘You have several severely bruised ribs after an accident in a WAAF staff-car that Aircraftwoman Mountjoy had signed out as the driver, which means you were not authorised to drive it.’ Claire opened her mouth to explain why she was driving, but the FO put her hand up again. ‘ACW Mountjoy has explained that she is nervous of driving in fog.’ The FO raised her eyebrows. ‘If I am to believe that, I must also believe that it was not foggy on the journey to Lancaster, only on the way back! And why Lancaster railway station?’ Clearly exasperated, she said, ‘No matter!’ and shook her head. ‘Apart from making me look as if I don’t know what my WAAFs are doing, you have ruined your chance of working with the RAF’s Advance Air Strike Force in France.’
Claire bit back tears of disappointment. ‘I’m sorry, Flight.’
‘I’m sure you are. What the hell were you thinking of, Dudley, attending the interview in the state you were in? Were you going to inform me about your injuries?’ Claire didn’t answer. ‘Or were you going to go ahead with the training and get yourself, or someone else, killed?’ Claire’s head was pounding and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. ‘Pretending there was nothing wrong after injuring yourself as severely as you had was a stupid thing to do. Well?’
‘I didn’t think I was that badly hurt. And,’ Claire lowered her eyes, ‘I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to be chosen to go to France with
