Molly Green - A Sister’s Courage

Her stomach growled in defiance as she watched him put his hand in the space, fingering all the corners.

‘Ah, a secret pocket, no less …’ He paused, his mouth twisting. Raine’s stomach clenched. ‘What have we got here?’ A flash of disappointment crossed his face as he laid the mirror on the table with the other items. ‘ Now I think we can say the bag is empty,’ he sneered. ‘All right, Miss Linfoot, you can be on your way.’

He marched out of the office, giving the door a slam.

‘Phew,’ Linda said. ‘I couldn’t have held my breath much longer.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘I really thought he’d find the note. Didn’t I see you put it in your handbag?’

‘I don’t understand,’ Raine said, shaking her head. She picked up her empty handbag and sat at what was her desk, running her fingers inside the mirror pocket. ‘Why didn’t he find it when he pulled out the mirror?’ She looked up, appealing to Linda. ‘I pushed the note behind it, but it’s not here.’

‘It must be.’

Raine turned her bag upside down but nothing fell out. Mystified, she peered inside, then searched the mirror pocket again. It had to be in here. And then one of her fingers felt a flap in the lining and she remembered. Triumphantly, she pulled out the tiny piece of paper.

‘Here it is,’ she said as she waved it towards Linda. ‘There was a tear in the lining that it got caught behind. I keep meaning to ask Suzy if she’d stitch it. I’m glad I didn’t.’ Raine chuckled. ‘It saved my life where Foxy is concerned.’ She tossed the contents back into her bag. There’d be plenty of time to tidy it up later.

‘You’d make a great spy,’ Linda said, smiling now. ‘Oh, Raine, I’m going to miss you. Will you leave me your address?’

Raine scribbled her address on a scrap of paper from Linda’s wastepaper basket. ‘You can get hold of me here,’ she said. ‘We’ll keep in touch. I want to know how you get on in the ATS.’

Linda nodded. ‘Now, where shall I put this?’ she said, glancing at the address. ‘I don’t think I have a special slot for top-secret notes in my handbag.’

Raine grinned and gave the girl a quick hug. ‘You’ll find somewhere, I’m sure. Maybe down your bra. Wouldn’t Foxy love to discover that ?’

‘He’d wish he hadn’t,’ Linda said fervently, then caught Raine’s eye and they both burst out laughing.

‘I hope I shan’t be around for him to find out,’ Linda said. ‘Trouble is, I think I’ll have to wait until I’m officially accepted in the ATS before I give my notice. I need the money to help Mum with the other kids or I’d follow you out of the door.’ She rolled the carriage of her typewriter to pull out the last letter she’d typed. ‘I want to know if you get into that air transport place.’

‘The ATA?’ Raine said grimly. ‘If I don’t, it won’t be for want of trying.’

‘I’m very content you have left that place,’ Simone said when Raine told the family at supper that evening the news that her services were no longer required. ‘Maybe you will now forget about flying and do something sensible.’

‘Maman, you don’t understand. I’d give anything to be up there, helping our boys.’

‘Then I am glad you will never be allowed. The men must be left to get on with their job.’

Raine managed to stop herself from mentioning the possibility of joining the ATA. It would only lead to another argument, and anyway she might not ever be accepted.

‘Maman, we all have to do something to help.’ Her mother opened her mouth to interrupt but Raine continued. ‘Look what’s happened already in the Channel Islands. Poor innocent people. British subjects and we haven’t sent anyone to help them. I bet anything Hitler will have his evil eyes on us next. They’re always talking at work about his plans to invade us.’

‘Well, you are no longer at work,’ her mother flashed. ‘Why do you not come and help me with collecting the aluminium for your precious aeroplanes?’

‘I’m a qualified pilot,’ Raine half rose from the table in frustration that her mother simply had no idea what drove her daughter, ‘not a scrap metal collector.’

‘Lorraine, sit down,’ her father interrupted. ‘And don’t demean your mother’s efforts. Eat your meal – a feat in itself with all the rationing.’

Raine sat down, biting back a retort, knowing when her father called her ‘Lorraine’ he wasn’t going to tolerate any more backchat, as he called it.

‘There will be no further discussion on the subject of invasion in front of your sisters.’ Maman popped a morsel of meat between her perfectly painted lips. ‘I will not have it.’

How can her father ever have said she was like Maman? Raine gritted her teeth.

‘Very nice stew, Simone,’ her father said mildly as he placed his knife and fork neatly together. ‘Did you have to queue very long for the meat?’

‘You don’t need to change the subject, Dad,’ Ronnie spoke up. ‘Suzy and I aren’t babies. We do listen to the wireless.’ She turned to Raine. ‘What are you going to do now you’ve left Biggin Hill?’

‘Find out if there’s any way I can increase my flying hours,’ Raine said without hesitating.

‘You’ll find the answer,’ Ronnie said, ignoring their mother’s glare. ‘You always do.’

Later, Raine went upstairs to write her letter to Miss Gower in private before Suzanne came back from her music lesson. She sat on the edge of her bed with a sheet of writing paper and a book underneath to act as a desk. Uncapping her pen, she began to write.

Dear Miss Gower,

I understand you are seeking pilots, both male and female, to join your ferry pool at Hatfield and I would like to apply.

I have twenty hours with a ‘C’ pilot’s licence – mostly in Tiger Moths at Hart’s Flying Club near Biggin Hill in Kent, but since the war started I haven’t had much opportunity to increase the hours.

I would be very pleased to come for an interview any time at your convenience and in the meantime , I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

Lorraine Linfoot (Miss)

She read it through once, swiftly, and decided it couldn’t be improved. The message was simple. She was a qualified pilot and would love to join the ATA. The only thing holding her back was that blasted two hundred and fifty hours minimum flying time.

She folded the letter and stuck it in an envelope, then licked the flap and pressed it firmly down. Using the note Linda had slipped her, she carefully copied the address. She’d go to the post office first thing in the morning. If only she could increase her flying hours … but with a war on, and the expense, and now no job to pay for them, and no civilian flying clubs open even if she could, she was seeing her dream slowly drift away.

‘Maman said you were in our room.’ Suzanne crept in. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘Course not. How did your lesson go?’

‘Not so well today.’ Suzanne flopped on her bed. ‘I couldn’t seem to concentrate.’