Today, the first in
my new WW2 series, Ellen's War, is released. This series follows
Ellie through the war years. Blue Skies & Tiger Moths opens
in 1939 when she is a flying instructor and follows her into the WAF
and up to Dunkirk. The second book she is a pilot in the ATA ferrying
aircraft across the country for the RAF. In the final book she is still an ATA
pilot but leaves to get married at the end of the war.
Here are the
first few pages which I hope you will love enough to download the rest.
July 1939, Essex
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'Well, Miss Simpson,
what do you think?' Joseph Cross asked as he pointed to the de Havilland 60
Moth that stood proudly on the worn grass outside what served as a hangar.
Ellie wanted to hug
him but thought he might not appreciate the gesture. 'I love it. Is it dual
control?'
'No, but it has the
usual two seats so can take a passenger.'
'Good – I've got more
than enough pupils to teach. Since the Government subsidy last year every Tom,
Dick and Harry wants to learn to fly.'
'I hope you don't
expect me to pay you any extra, young lady. I reckon you owe me far more than
your wages would have been for all the lessons and hours you've spent flying my
aircraft over the past five years.'
She put her hands on
her hips. 'Giving my brothers and me lessons at your flying club couldn't have
been as much as the rent you would have had to pay to use my father's barns and
fields.' He was about to interrupt but she continued. 'Not forgetting the fact
that Dad bought the first aircraft and both Neil and George acted as instructors
until they joined the RAF.'
He scowled but she
wasn't fooled for a minute. 'The cost of one lesson is usually two pounds – the
three of you never paid a penny…'
'Joe, I don't want to
stand here arguing anymore. I want to take her up before it gets too hot. Are
you coming with me or can I go solo?'
'Circuits and bumps
only, my girl, no flying off into the wild blue yonder. There are three new
enquiries to be dealt with in the office – I want you to sort those out this
morning.'
The other aircraft
the flying club owned were a Swallow and a Gypsy Moth. Both were fitted with
dual controls. Joe had several clients who liked to go up on their own and
poodle about until the fuel ran out. This de Havilland had been bought to
satisfy those clients.
Sidney, the ground
engineer, and the only other full-time employee, wandered out from the hangar.
'Nice little machine, Ellie, sweet as a nut. You going to take it up for a
spin?'
'If that's all right
with you, I'd love to. I'll not be long – I just want to get the feel of it for
myself.'
'The bloke what
brought it said it flies like the Gypsy only a bit faster. You'll have no
problem – you're a natural. I remember your first solo flight when you were no
more than a nipper…'
Joe poked his head
out of the office. 'No time for reminiscing, Sid, let her get on with it. Just
had a bell and we've got a new pupil coming in an hour.'
'Sorry, guv, I'll not
hold her up.'
She collected her
helmet and goggles and scrambled into the cockpit. Even though the weather was
warm she needed her flying jacket on over her dungarees. It got a bit nippy a
thousand feet above the land. After doing her preflight checks she taxied into
position on the grass runway and took off.
An uneventful
forty-five minutes later she landed smoothly and headed for the office to catch
up with the paperwork. The new pupil, a middle-aged bank manager, decided after
a couple of circuits of the field that he didn't want to learn to fly after
all.
As they'd only been
in the air for a quarter of an hour there was no charge. By the time her last
pupil left the airfield it was almost six o'clock. Often they had to work until
it was too dark to fly but tonight they'd finished early. Ellie left Sid to
lock up and jumped onto her bicycle. At least in the summer Dad didn't come in
for his tea until late so she wouldn't have missed her meal.
She pedalled
furiously down the track, swerving instinctively around the dips and ruts,
covering the mile in record time. She skidded into the yard, sending half a
dozen chickens squawking into the air in protest, and tossed her bike against
the wall.
With luck she'd have
time to wash before her parents sat down to eat. It had taken Mum months to get
used to seeing her only daughter dressed in slacks or dungarees. She might be a
farmer's wife now, but she'd come from a grand family and had very high
standards.
The fact that Mum had
been disowned when she'd married a farmer should have softened her but instead,
according to Dad, it had made her even more determined to bring her children up
as though they were landed gentry and not the children of a farmer.
After a quick sluice
in the scullery Ellie headed to the kitchen – she was about to open the door
when she realised the voices she'd heard were coming from the seldom used
sitting room. Mum insisted on calling it the drawing room, but no one else did.
This must mean they
had guests. She looked down at her scruffy oil-stained dungarees and wondered
if she had time to nip upstairs and put on something more respectable.
Unfortunately, her mother must have heard her come in.
'Ellen, you are very
late this evening. Had you forgotten Neil has a twenty-four hour pass?'
She was pretty sure
this was the first she'd heard of it, but having her oldest brother home was a
wonderful surprise. She didn't stop to think why this meant they were in the
parlour, and burst in.
'Hello, little
sister, I've brought a chum along. Let me introduce you to Gregory Dunlop.'
Only then did she
become aware of the second RAF uniformed young man staring at her with open
admiration. He was a bit shorter than Neil, but broader in the shoulders, with
corn-coloured hair and startlingly blue eyes.
'I'm pleased to meet
you, Flying Officer Dunlop.' She wasn't sure if she should offer her hand as
despite her efforts it was far from clean.
He stepped closer and
held out his and she had no option but to take it. 'I've heard so much about
you, Miss Simpson, and have been pestering your brother for an invitation in
order to meet you for myself.'
His grip was firm,
his hand smoother than hers – but what caught her attention was his upper crust
accent. 'I'm sorry to appear in my work clothes. If you don't mind waiting a
few more minutes, I'll pop upstairs and change into something more suitable for
the occasion.'
'Please, don't worry
on my account. I think you look perfectly splendid just as you are.'
He seemed reluctant
to release her hand but she pulled it away firmly. He was a very attractive man
and was obviously interested in her, but she wasn't looking for a boyfriend.
'Run along, Ellen,
you've got plenty of time to put on a frock as your father has only just come
in himself. We are having a cold collation so nothing will be spoiled by
waiting for another quarter of an hour.'
She smiled at her
brother in resignation and he winked. They both knew there was no point in
arguing once their mother had made up her mind.
She met her father in
the passageway. 'Have you got to change as well, Ellie? She told me at
lunchtime I've got to put on something smart.'
'It must be because
of Neil's friend. He certainly sounds very posh.' She pushed open her bedroom
door and was about to go in when he replied.
'Seems a lot of fuss
for nothing but easier to give in than put up with a week of black looks and
sour faces.' He shook his head sadly and went into the room he no longer shared
with her mother. Ellie wished her parents had a happier relationship.
If there was one
thing she'd learned, by watching the disintegration of what must have been a
happy union once upon a time, it was this. Don't marry for love as it doesn't
last. If she ever took the plunge it would be with a man she respected, liked
and who shared her outlook on life.
Her mother had told
her to put on a frock but she rebelled. She didn't wish to impress their
visitor so would come down in what she usually wore – slacks and blouse. The
only time she put on a frock was when she was forced to attend church. Most
Sundays she had the excuse that she had to work at the airfield.
She checked her face
was oil free and ran a brush through her hair. Satisfied she was presentable
she hurried downstairs eager to catch up on Neil's news. George, her other
brother, hadn't been home since January and she was desperate to hear how he
was doing.
Her mother pursed her
lips when Ellie came in. 'Is your father coming, Ellen?'
'I don't know, Mum,
but I don't think he'll be long.' She joined her brother by the open window
leaving his friend to entertain her mother.
'I wish you wouldn't
deliberately provoke her, Ellie. Why won't you call her Mother? You know how
much she dislikes being called Mum, especially in front of strangers.'
She shrugged.
'Whatever she was in the past, now she's just a farmer's wife. Have you
finished your training?'
