‘Stop! Please!’ Elsie begged, reaching for Daniel’s arm.
He obeyed and stood up, breathlessly. In that moment’s pause, William jumped up and ran into the aerodrome, clutching his bitten hand to his chest. To think that she had felt sorry for that man…
‘You’ll go up on a charge for this, Smith,’ Daniel yelled after him. ‘You’ll be in prison by the end of the day!’ He turned to Elsie, his demeanour shifting to one of kindliness. ‘Are you okay? He didn’t…’
Elsie shook her head. ‘No, no. I’m fine—thank you.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go—we’ll be scrambled any second, I’m sure of it,’ Daniel said, looking around him. ‘Jerry’s on his way over.’
‘I’ll be okay,’ Elsie mumbled, straightening her blouse.
‘No,’ Daniel replied, suddenly becoming animated. ‘I feel guilty enough already—I should have warned you off him; taken it more seriously. I didn’t think he would ever…’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Elsie protested. ‘Really, I’ll be fine.’
Daniel spotted someone emerging from one of the aerodrome buildings. ‘Woody!’ he shouted. ‘Over here!’
‘Don’t say anything,’ Elsie whispered. ‘Don’t tell him what just happened—please.’
Woody sauntered over with his hands in his pockets, seemingly oblivious to the siren. ‘Hello again,’ he greeted. ‘Everything okay?’
Elsie forced a smile. ‘Hello.’ She hadn’t seen him since the night of the Hawkinge dance last month and was still extremely embarrassed about the way that she had flaunted herself with William Smith in front of him. How stupid she had been.
‘Are you not flying?’ Daniel asked Woody.
‘My kite needs fixing, so I’m grounded for the time being.’
‘Could you do me a favour and look after Elsie here,’ Daniel asked. ‘She’s had a bit of a shock. Needs some cheering up.’
Woody smiled—a genuine smile, Elsie thought. ‘Sure thing.’
Daniel patted Woody’s arm. ‘Thank you.’ Then he faced Elsie. ‘Take care—you’re in safe hands.’
‘Thanks,’ Elsie answered, watching as he jogged towards the dispersal hut on the other side of the airfield.
‘So,’ Woody began. ‘Tea? You still owe me a drink, remember?’
Elsie smiled. ‘Yes—I’ll buy you a tea. I didn’t get to finish my last one.’
He gently placed his hand in the small of her back and led them out through the gates.
‘Here again?’ Annie said.
‘I can’t keep away,’ Elsie murmured. ‘Two teas, please.’
As Annie spun around to make the drinks, he leant in towards her. ‘Do you want to talk about it—whatever your shock was?’
Elsie thought for a moment. ‘Do you mind if we don’t?’
‘Of course not,’ he answered.
‘Here you go,’ Annie said, handing out two cups.
Elsie took the drinks and paid. ‘Shall we go and sit on the bank?’
Woody nodded and they made their way to the grass verge. In the distance, barely audible under the air raid siren, was a more high-pitched, jangling alarm.
‘Oh dear, they’re being scrambled again,’ Woody commented, craning his neck to see into the airfield.
‘How does it feel to not be with them?’ Elsie asked, sitting beside him on the bank.
Woody released a drawn-out groan, the aerodrome still holding his gaze. ‘You know what, it’s a real mixture of emotions. I feel guilty that I’m not helping them—even if all twelve of us are flying, we’re still severely outnumbered; one less plane up there could spell disaster for the others.’ He met her eyes and paused. ‘I also feel helpless—there’s nothing at all I can do for them down here. And, as awful as it is to admit it, I feel ashamed because I’m a bit grateful to have an excuse not to fly.’
‘It’s understandable,’ Elsie said.
‘Mainly, though—I’m feeling happy to be sat here with you.’
‘Corny,’ she said with a laugh. It felt entirely different to be sitting here beside Woody than it had been sitting beside William. It was peculiar how relaxed in Woody’s company she felt. ‘I’m sorry for the way I treated you at the dance.’
Woody grinned. ‘It’s okay—I like a woman with some guts.’
She knew what he meant, but she didn’t feel as though she had any guts right now. Her mind and body had only just stopped trembling from the experience inside the shelter.
‘There they go!’ Woody exclaimed.
Elsie matched his eye-line and watched as eleven Hurricanes climbed into the pale blue skies, heading out over Capel-le-Ferne towards the channel.
They watched in silence as the planes dissolved into the thin ribbons of cloud that lingered over the sea.
Then Woody faced her. ‘So, when I sort of walked you home after the dance,’ he began, ‘you said that you were billeted with your mother-in-law. How’s that working out?’
Elsie scoffed outwardly. ‘Terribly. My husband and his family are just ghastly…’ She stopped herself. She had said too much, speaking to Woody as though he were one of the girls. And speaking so appallingly of her dead husband, it just wasn’t right.
‘Oh?’ he said, a note of intrigue in his voice.
‘Long story.’
Woody shrugged and looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got about twenty hours before another plane is brought in. Is the story longer than that?’
Elsie laughed. Would it hurt, to tell him everything? She couldn’t think why it should. And so, she found herself once again retelling the story of how she had ended up married to a man whom she didn’t love and of how she had been widowed, all within a few short months.
Woody listened attentively until the story was over. ‘It sounds like it’s a good thing the WAAF are packing up and moving on. Will you write to me with your new address?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Elsie agreed.
Woody leapt up, spilling some of his tea. ‘Here we go!
