through the airframe. It grew and swelled and burst into a steady roar. Then another shudder that burst into a roar in exactly the same way. Then another. Then a fourth. The floor now rocked and pulled and the power of the vibrations sent exciting tremors up through the soles of their feet.
‘Engines being started,’ Mr. Crosbie said, unnecessarily and portentously. ‘Miss Aylmer, up you go and report at the front. Now just before you go ... what’s the drill?’ ‘Report to the captain and say “Passengers strapped in and rear door shut, sir,” ... sir.’
Patsy walked up the carpeted aisle. Gingerly, she pushed open the door to the flight deck, and quiet as a mouse crept past the navigator’s chair. ‘Hello,’ the engineer said vaguely, and then turned back to his panel.
In front of her were two men seated in the pilots’ seats at the very front of the aircraft. Their heads and shoulders looked enormous outlined against the sky-filled windscreen. One of them half turned and murmured something to the other, and she saw it was Captain Prentice.
‘Passengers,’ she mumbled quickly, almost jumping the tiny space to his side, ‘strapped in and rear door shut, sir.’
‘Speak up,’ Captain Prentice said, not unkindly. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Patsy took a deep breath and, as loudly as she could, repeated what now began to sound like a rather idiotic formula.
‘Oh, that !’ A faint glimmer of mocking amusement appeared for a moment in his eyes. ‘But you’re on the wrong side of the house.’ He jerked his head at the other pilot. ‘I’m the check pilot. The captain always sits in the left -hand seat. So go and say your little piece to Captain Maynard.’
Patsy did a quick left about turn. She took a deep breath ready to repeat the magic words again.
‘Hello,’ Captain Maynard said, and smiled. His eyes were full of a kind of amused sympathy. ‘Everything all right at the back, eh?’ he said. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Aylmer,’ Patsy said gratefully.
‘Fine, thanks, Miss Aylmer. That’s all. Off you go back!’
‘And don’t forget to strap yourself in while you’re about it,’ Captain Prentice said, with a brief, cool smile.
Patsy carefully closed the flight deck door behind her. The other girls watched her return as though she were now initiated as the temple high priestess.
‘Was it all right?’ Cynthia asked, leaning forward from the seat immediately behind. Patsy nodded and smiled and indicated that it was.
‘You and I are the pair to do the waitressing.’
Patsy clenched her hands as the engine note subtly changed, then roared to a great rushing burst of speed and sound, and they were away down the runway. It felt just like rushing downhill as a child, with arms outstretched yelling, ‘Can’t stop! Can’t stop!’
Now, far below them, in the patch of sunlight, Patsy could see their own dark shadow cross a ploughed field. She watched the silky twist of the Thames in the sunlight, and the tiny cars crawling along the roads.
‘Next ladies, please!’ Mr. Crosbie called.
Cynthia nudged Patsy. ‘Us,’ she said.
They stood up, and walked together to the galley, where they loaded the tray with, cutlery, a side plate on which perched a paper napkin, a tiny salt-and-pepper set, a glass of water—and, for more realistic practice, a plate of cold meat and potato salad which they would eventually be allowed to eat for their own airborne lunch.
‘Now, Miss Aylmer,’ Mr. Crosbie said, ‘before you serve the passengers I want you to take refreshments to the flight deck,’ and he helped her to prepare another tray with two plates of sandwiches and five cups of coffee.
Very carefully, Patsy walked down the aisle. Very carefully, she pushed open the door. Very carefully, she served the navigator, the engineer officer, and the radio officer, in that order, and then very thankfully laid the tray on the table-like throttle pedestal between the pilots.
Then she
‘Engines being started,’ Mr. Crosbie said, unnecessarily and portentously. ‘Miss Aylmer, up you go and report at the front. Now just before you go ... what’s the drill?’ ‘Report to the captain and say “Passengers strapped in and rear door shut, sir,” ... sir.’
Patsy walked up the carpeted aisle. Gingerly, she pushed open the door to the flight deck, and quiet as a mouse crept past the navigator’s chair. ‘Hello,’ the engineer said vaguely, and then turned back to his panel.
In front of her were two men seated in the pilots’ seats at the very front of the aircraft. Their heads and shoulders looked enormous outlined against the sky-filled windscreen. One of them half turned and murmured something to the other, and she saw it was Captain Prentice.
‘Passengers,’ she mumbled quickly, almost jumping the tiny space to his side, ‘strapped in and rear door shut, sir.’
‘Speak up,’ Captain Prentice said, not unkindly. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Patsy took a deep breath and, as loudly as she could, repeated what now began to sound like a rather idiotic formula.
‘Oh, that !’ A faint glimmer of mocking amusement appeared for a moment in his eyes. ‘But you’re on the wrong side of the house.’ He jerked his head at the other pilot. ‘I’m the check pilot. The captain always sits in the left -hand seat. So go and say your little piece to Captain Maynard.’
Patsy did a quick left about turn. She took a deep breath ready to repeat the magic words again.
‘Hello,’ Captain Maynard said, and smiled. His eyes were full of a kind of amused sympathy. ‘Everything all right at the back, eh?’ he said. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Aylmer,’ Patsy said gratefully.
‘Fine, thanks, Miss Aylmer. That’s all. Off you go back!’
‘And don’t forget to strap yourself in while you’re about it,’ Captain Prentice said, with a brief, cool smile.
Patsy carefully closed the flight deck door behind her. The other girls watched her return as though she were now initiated as the temple high priestess.
‘Was it all right?’ Cynthia asked, leaning forward from the seat immediately behind. Patsy nodded and smiled and indicated that it was.
‘You and I are the pair to do the waitressing.’
Patsy clenched her hands as the engine note subtly changed, then roared to a great rushing burst of speed and sound, and they were away down the runway. It felt just like rushing downhill as a child, with arms outstretched yelling, ‘Can’t stop! Can’t stop!’
Now, far below them, in the patch of sunlight, Patsy could see their own dark shadow cross a ploughed field. She watched the silky twist of the Thames in the sunlight, and the tiny cars crawling along the roads.
‘Next ladies, please!’ Mr. Crosbie called.
Cynthia nudged Patsy. ‘Us,’ she said.
They stood up, and walked together to the galley, where they loaded the tray with, cutlery, a side plate on which perched a paper napkin, a tiny salt-and-pepper set, a glass of water—and, for more realistic practice, a plate of cold meat and potato salad which they would eventually be allowed to eat for their own airborne lunch.
‘Now, Miss Aylmer,’ Mr. Crosbie said, ‘before you serve the passengers I want you to take refreshments to the flight deck,’ and he helped her to prepare another tray with two plates of sandwiches and five cups of coffee.
Very carefully, Patsy walked down the aisle. Very carefully, she pushed open the door. Very carefully, she served the navigator, the engineer officer, and the radio officer, in that order, and then very thankfully laid the tray on the table-like throttle pedestal between the pilots.
Then she
Similar Books
