A Wing and a Prayer

By M.W. Arnold

When Betty Palmer's sister dies under suspicious circumstances whilst landing her Tiger Moth, Betty and three other women pilots of the Air Transport Auxiliary in WWII England unite to discover who killed her and why.
Estranged from her family, Penny Blake wants simply to belong. American Doris Winter, running from a personal tragedy, yearns for a new start. Naturally shy Mary Whitworth-Baines struggles to fit in. Together though, they are a force to be reckoned with as they face the mystery that confronts them.

Against the backdrop of war, when ties of friendship are exceptionally strong, they strive to unravel the puzzle's complex threads, risking their lives as they seek justice for Betty's sister.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509233021

M.W. Arnold

Biography Mick is a hopeless romantic who was born in England, and spent fifteen years roaming around the world in the pay of HM Queen Elisabeth II in the Royal Air Force, before putting down roots, and realising how much he missed the travel. This, he’s replaced somewhat with his writing, including reviewing books and supporting fellow saga and romance author’s in promoting their novels. He’s the proud keeper of two bent on world domination, is mad on the music of the Beach Boys and enjoys the theatre and humouring his Manchester United supporting wife. Finally, and most importantly, Mick is a full member of the Romantic Novelists Association. ‘A Wing and a Prayer’, will be his second published novel and he is very proud to be welcomed into The Rose Garden.

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Prologue

January 1942

The frost was hard upon the airfield as the ground crew watched the Tiger Moth pull up sharply to avoid a spinney of oak trees. It was a near-run thing, and if the pilot hadn’t gunned the engine to hop over at the last second, the biplane would have ploughed into the treetops. Nonetheless they could plainly see branches, torn off by the near miss, caught up in the tailskid as the biplane rocked from side to side, the engine now coughing as the pilot struggled to maintain control.

Leaning forward on their bikes, their anxiety only grew as they could see the pilot’s head lolling back and forth. From where they were, they had the best view of the approach, and they all held their breath as the biplane’s wheels touched down with considerable force, bouncing the aircraft ten feet back into the air.

The port wing dipped alarmingly toward the grass airfield, the pilot correcting only just in time. With the engine pitch whining, the pilot pushed the control stick forward and the wheels hit the ground, bounced once, twice before reluctantly settling on the runway, the tailskid leaving behind the branches it had collected.

As it was the last aircraft due to land that day, which was fortunate as the frost had formed early that evening, the ground crew was keen to pull her back to the flight line. If luck was on their side and there were no problems, they’d be in the pub by half four, any later and the Friday crowd would have drunk the best beer. Wartime shortages were nothing new, but the hard-working engineers resented missing out on the fresh barrels old Bert always managed to get in on a Friday afternoon.

Spurred into action by the erratic landing, the sergeant pulled out his binoculars and put them to his eyes. What he saw pushed him into more frenzied action. Jumping on his bike and yelling for someone to get the doctor, now! he pedaled furiously toward where the diminutive biplane had eventually rolled to a halt, coming to rest in the drainage ditch, along the end of the grass runway. The ditch had claimed many an unwary pilot.

From a haven of peace in war-torn southern England, all now became semi-organized chaos as men sprang to help. One jumped onto the running board of a waiting ambulance, startling a gently dozing driver and prodding him to drive over to the idling biplane. Everyone else followed their sergeant as quickly as they could. Whoever the pilot was, he or she was in severe trouble.

The pilot’s flailing arm reached for and failed to make contact with the ignition before flopping down onto her lap and knocking a blue thermos flask to the cockpit floor.

Reaching the plane, the sergeant switched the engine off, ignoring the blood that coated his fingers from where the pilot’s head had crashed into the instrument panel. After giving her an urgent shake when she failed to respond to his desperate shouts of Miss! he pulled the neck of her flying suit aside and placed his fingers against the side of her neck. Nothing. Nevertheless, he placed the fingers of his other hand in the same place, waited a few more desperate seconds, and then took them away. As gently as he could, he leant the pilot’s head back against the headrest and slumped down on the lower wing, looking up only when the ambulance screamed to a halt.

Placing a hand on the doctor’s shoulder as he made to climb up, he shook his head. Don’t bother, Doc. She’s gone.

The deathly quiet was broken by a woman’s heartbreaking scream of anguish.

Chapter One

May 1942

Penelope!

Nobody bellowed quite like her father, Penny Blake knew well, though the sound didn’t make her shiver with fear. The days when she’d been wary, let alone respectful of him, were long gone. With a resigned sigh she stood up, for she recognized what that particular bellow indicated: displeasure.

Now what am I supposed to have done, she muttered, putting down the copy of Flight International magazine she’d been reading. Sliding her feet into her slippers, Penny made her way downstairs to where her father was waiting for her in his study.

The door was open, and standing behind his beloved green leather wing-backed chair was the man in question. If this had been a silent melodramatic movie, he’d be twirling a handlebar moustache. As it wasn’t, he merely looked like he was about to blow steam out of his ears, he’d turned so red.

There you are, he told her in what, considering the volume he’d been using moments before, was a commendably restrained voice. Would you care to explain this? he asked, waving a magazine back and forth in front of her face.

Standing before him, her hands deep in her dressing gown pockets, Penny waited for him to stop wafting the magazine as if it were a rabid fan, so she could see what had got his dander up this time. As far as she knew, she hadn’t been caught dancing on any tables at clubs lately, nor had she been photographed out with a young man her father deemed unsuitable. That by itself was difficult to avoid, as she couldn’t think of anyone she knew whom her father did deem worthy of courting his eldest. Those he’d once considered—she believed he’d given up that particular method of keeping her out of trouble—were, in her opinion, one short step away from being total imbeciles.

In the end, she had to reach up and grab the magazine so she could see what he was on about. She hadn’t realized the picture had been taken. She loved it and made a mental note to track down a print.

I thought I’d banned you from flying, her father stated. "And now I see this on the cover of The Tatler. Not only had you crashed, but a bloody photographer was there to record the whole ruddy thing. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you didn’t die, but here—he jabbed a finger at the magazine, right into Penny’s grime-smeared yet beaming face as she stepped from the cockpit of a biplane that had lost its undercarriage—you’re smiling away as if nothing has happened. Don’t you have any sense of what you could have done to the family name?"

Things had been building up for months, probably years if she was honest with herself. With those words, plus what she’d earlier read in The Times, she believed the time had come to make her final break from what hadn’t felt like home for way too long. Someone else might have taken his words as an attempt at reconciliation, but not Penny.

Penny folded the magazine and put it in her pocket, then carefully arranged her features into what she hoped was a blank, a face that showed her father she cared as little for him nowadays as he obviously cared for her. Firstly, Father, you cannot ban me from flying. I own my own plane. The one in that picture was a friend’s, and I can and will fly whenever I can.

She stopped speaking as the expression on her father’s face suddenly resembled the mouse that got the cheese. Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve checked with the police, and as a civilian, you should not be flying. I don’t even want to know where you got the fuel from. So unless you want to be arrested, I suggest you start listening to me. Understand?

This was something Penny had hoped he wouldn’t figure out. A banker by trade, his only concern since Penny’s mother had died was keeping the good name of the family spotless—though she’d never been able to get a clear answer to why. She had a feeling something in his past had caused his thinking toward his family to become skewed. The kind and loving father she remembered from her past had perished with his wife.

She’d been flying ever since she’d persuaded her father to pay for flying lessons, and so far as he’d been concerned, his little lady could do no wrong. That was before his beloved Sarah had passed. After that, purely coincidentally so far as Penny was concerned, her name started appearing regularly in various magazines, especially the Penny Post and The Sketch. He’d put up with them at first, even the accompanying pictures and by-lines. However, the prettier she’d grown, the more titillating had been the headlines, and that had been when he’d tried to ban her from flying in the hope the magazines would find somebody new to salivate over.

You’re right, Father, she eventually said and saw the look of triumph appear on his face, which was swiftly wiped away by what she told him next. However, you won’t have to worry about me for much longer.

Turning his back on his daughter, her father lit his pipe and blew out a cloud of blueish, stale-smelling smoke before venturing to ask, Oh, and what do you think you can do?

Something I wasn’t able to before the war, but now I can.

And what, pray, is that?

I’m leaving home. I’m joining the ATA.

Now she had his attention, and he turned back to face her, looking puzzled. The look didn’t suit him, as he prided himself on being someone who knew a lot about everything, all of which added up to he knew a lot about nothing Penny considered worthwhile.

What, when it’s at home, is the ATA?

Oh, what asking that had cost him; she could see in the way his mouth opened and closed before he’d been able to get the words out that he hadn’t wanted to ask.

The Air Transport Auxiliary, Father. They’re looking for women volunteers. I’m going to deliver planes all around the UK.

From the amount of snorting that issued from his mouth and nose, Penny didn’t think she could have said anything that would have surprised him more. After a minute or two of blustering, he appeared to be ready to speak again. She had to rack her memory for when she’d last seen that face, and when it came to her, she almost took a step back in surprise. She remembered the expression from happier times, times when her mother was still around, as it involved love. Love. Now, that was a word she hadn’t associated with her father in a long, long time, so she wasn’t sure quite how much she should trust it. At the least, she’d listen to what he had to say.

You’ve a cousin, a cousin in Canada. I’ve been in correspondence with him, and he has a son about your age—well, thirty-two—who’s seen your picture and, despite all your shenanigans, is prepared to marry you. He’s a good, hard-working man, never been in any bother in his life.

Had he really suggested that? Suggested that she marry someone she didn’t know anything about just because he had a good name? Penny carefully looked at her father and could see clearly he actually meant what he said. It had been just another game. So much for love. To keep, in his opinion anyway, the family name in good stead, he would marry his daughter off to someone he’d never known and send her off to the other side of the world. Upon that thought, it hit her: if he couldn’t control her, rein her in, then having her out of reach of all the newspapers and gossip-mongering magazines would be accomplishing the same thing. No one around to worry about, no one around to besmirch the name.

Her father had been watching her face, and as she’d learned to read him, so had he her. Well?

There could be only one answer. No. Penny then turned her back and slowly, determinedly, walked back upstairs to pack.

The last words she heard from her father were, You walk out of my house, and you’ll never be welcome here again!

With her back to her father, she fought the tears threatening to burst forth, determined to remain strong, and won. Despite the pain, this was the right thing to do, both for herself and for her country. By making this decision, she was turning her back on her family, on her younger sister, whom she would miss even though they rarely agreed on anything. What caused the most pain was not being able to tell her in person why she was leaving. She hoped she’d understand one day and that her boarding school would, as soon as they received it, give her sister the letter she would write before leaving her childhood home for good.

In her bedroom, she stayed long enough to write that letter in which she poured her heart out to her sister, begging her to understand and to forgive her. Finished, she put it into a suitcase, to be mailed later, and grabbed her bank book, as many clothes as she could fit into a couple of suitcases. She included her flying clothes, her all-important flying license, and her log book, then stuffed the week-old acceptance letter from the ATA into her coat pocket and walked out of her room and back down the stairs.

Her father was where she had left him, both hands still gripping the rear of his chair as if his life depended upon it. Resisting the strong urge to throw her arms around his neck and implore him to love her as he once had, Penny strode past the cold study and opened the front door.

Without looking back, as to do so would irreparably damage what was left of her heart, she closed the door behind her and walked out toward the next chapter of her life, toward a place where she hoped to find a home and a new family. Who knew, perhaps love!

Chapter Two

July 1942

Shut the bloody door!

Really, Penny tutted as she kicked it shut and shook her unruly brown hair from beneath her flying helmet, sending beads of rain splattering around the small wooden hut.

As she unzipped her Sidcot flying suit, revealing a non-regulation and decidedly off-white, heavy woolen pullover, Penny offered up a silent prayer to whichever god was on duty that day to take pity on her. It had been raining cats and dogs at Hamble airfield all day. Now, approaching dusk, she was pig-sick of it. If Thelma told her she’d have to come back tomorrow to re-take her test, again, she’d give good odds she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

It’d been a long and cold Tuesday, most of it spent waiting in this heatless, forsaken place that served as their flight line hut, biding her time until First Officer Thelma Aston could spare the time to take her up in a Tiger Moth. She’d only arrived the previous Friday, and they’d had to cut short her flight yesterday due to the weather taking an even bigger turn for the worse and forcing them to land after they’d been up for only ten minutes. Today hadn’t started out any better, and when a couple of pilots had called in sick, Thelma had informed her that she’d have to wait, as aircraft deliveries took precedence over everything else. Since they were shorthanded, Penny’d be pitching in. The aircraft being Spitfires, she hadn’t argued, and with the aid of a friendly dispatch rider speeding her back to the factory, both deliveries had taken barely two hours. Her own flying experiences meant she fully understood the need to recover from numb-bum syndrome, so she’d not bothered Thelma to take her up until she’d been back for half an hour.

Hanging up her flying suit to dry on the peg next to her locker, Penny sat down to pull off her flying boots, weary to her bones.

Care for a hand?

Penny glanced up into the round, cheery face of a very well covered woman she hadn’t noticed who, from the accent, appeared to be an American. Beside her was a large leather suitcase, which looked a little out of place next to a battered gray carpetbag, a flying helmet placed on top. The lady took off a black leather glove and held out her hand.

Doris Winter.

Due to the teeming rain she’d just flown in, Penny’s boots seemed to have shrunk onto her feet. If she was going to fly alongside this Doris for the Air Transport Auxiliary, she may as well start on the right foot. Or the left, depending upon which she got off first.

Penny Blake.

They shook hands, and Doris turned her back on Penny, motioning for her to extend a leg. Taking the one proffered and clamping it between her legs, Doris took the booted foot and with surprisingly little effort for such a slight-looking woman (she’d undone her thick white fur coat before bending over, and Penny had seen that underneath it she was wearing a bright red—and unless she were much mistaken, cashmere—jumper that clung to some very obvious curves) pulled it off in one go. The second boot took two tugs but was off in short order too.

Phew, thanks for that, Doris, Penny said, wiping her brow and pulling off her thick socks.

Pleasure, sweety, Doris replied in that delicious accent, retaking her seat. Can’t have been a lot of fun up there.

Oh, I don’t know, Penny replied, toweling her hair dry and then pulling a clean pair of stockings on. So long as I can fly, I don’t really mind what the weather’s like.

Rather you than me. Doris shuddered. I don’t really do rain.

You may have to get used to it, cut in the imposing figure sitting next to Doris. It doesn’t tend to do much else over here, and this is supposed to be summer!

Doris let out what could only be described as a guffaw and clapped her hand on her companion’s shoulder. You’ll have to forgive Mary. I’ve only known her since the train journey here, but she has a certain—how do you Brits put it?—wit. She’s an acquired taste.

Have not! I mean, am not! Mary answered, not helping matters.

Ha! Doris laughed. See what I mean?

If you don’t mind my asking, Penny began, straightening her seams, what’s a Yank doing in the ATA?

Doris’s face took on the expression of someone who had been waiting for this very question. You know, you’re the first person to ask me that. Neither at Liverpool nor at Luton were they curious. You really want to know? Upon looking around, her audience were unashamedly staring at her, waiting upon what she said next. Fair enough. There’s been talk back in the States of setting something up that does the same job as this ATA, but I can’t wait that long. Someone dear to me died for a cause he believed in, and I see no reason why I should wait any longer for something that may or may not come to pass. Hitler’s evil, and I want to do my share. Besides, she added after a short pause and with a twinkle in her eye, you can’t get fish and chips in my home town like you guys get here. New York City’s the best city in the world, but I’d walk across the Atlantic for a serving of yours.

Further repartee was brought to a halt by a loud cough.

If you’ve all quite finished! First Officer Thelma Aston was leant back against her desk, an expression of wry amusement upon her face. May we get back to business? If the two of you, she pointed at Doris and Mary, would mind getting to your feet? We may be a civilian service. However, a little respect wouldn’t go amiss.

Perhaps not as fast as Thelma would have liked, the two newcomers got to their feet. Their stance, with some leeway, could be described as respectful. From the frown on her forehead, accompanied by a slight shake of the head after waiting for a few seconds, Thelma realized this was the best she was going to get, and when Penny joined them, she allowed a small, a very small, smile to leak onto her lips.

Penny Blake, she read rather unnecessarily from the piece of paper in her hand, before turning her gaze to where Penny was investigating the state of her nails. You’ll be pleased to hear you’ve passed, and as from this moment, I’m certifying you as operational. Report for a familiarization flight of the area tomorrow morning at nine a.m. You’ll go on your first delivery flight Thursday morning. However, she said raising her voice to be heard above the congratulations that Doris and Mary were piling upon Penny, if we need you—really need you, mind—then you may be utilized tomorrow afternoon.

Too happy and relieved to bristle at her superior’s slightly brusque manner, Penny contented herself with, Yes, ma’am, and promptly sat back down, a wide smile upon her face.

As for you two… Thelma turned her attention to her newcomers, both of whom made efforts to add a little more respect to their posture. It’s too late in the day and the weather’s too bad to take either of you up, so report back here for nine in the morning as well, and we’ll get around to taking you both up.

Doris raised her hand.

It’s not school, Miss Winter. You don’t have to put up your hand to ask a question, though I do appreciate it. Now, what is it?

Doris pointed to the paperwork with her name on it upon Thelma’s desk. I take it you’ve seen my logbooks? A nod came in response. Well, you can see that I’ve been flying for about five years now, and I’ve over six hundred hours to my name.

Your point, Miss Winter? Thelma inquired.

Penny could see Doris was doing her best to rein in her impatience.

My point, ma’am, is that I’m surprised I need to have anyone check out my flying.

Thelma rolled her eyes before replying, Miss Winter, as I’m sure you’ve heard many a time since you came to this country, we are at war. Everything is checked, even in the ATA, and that includes such things as flying credentials. So yes, you will have your flying test with me, hopefully tomorrow, time and weather permitting.

But we’ve already been checked out by the people at Hatfield, Mary couldn’t help moaning.

Satisfying the people at Hatfield is one thing, satisfying me quite another. Their main concern is that you can fly without hurting yourself, mine is to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else, especially me. To that end, you will go up to prove to me you can indeed fly. Tomorrow morning, ladies, bright and early. Understood?

Both Doris and Mary snapped slightly closer to military attention and replied clearly and somewhat more loudly than the size of the hut merited, Yes, ma’am!

Their reply seemed to satisfy Thelma, as she allowed a less scary smile to grace her lips before laying Penny’s report on her desk. Folding her arms, she once more addressed Doris and Mary. Have either of you been assigned a place to stay? Both shook their heads. Bugger, Thelma swore and swiftly turned around to snatch up the receiver of her phone. Dialing, she waited, then waited, then waited a few moments more before slamming the phone down. Bloody Dorothy must have gone already.

Who’s Dorothy? Penny asked, getting to her feet and pulling on her ATA jacket so she was all clad in navy blue.

No, I don’t think you’ve met her either, have you, Thelma replied, shaking her head. Dorothy’s in charge of all administration on base, and that includes arranging billets for our pilots.

So where does that leave us? asked Mary, wringing her hands as she noticed the worried look on Thelma’s face.

Well… Thelma drew out the word, rubbing her chin and looking around the hut. I guess you could bed down here for the night?

Mary looked like it’d been suggested she take tea without milk. Here! On the floor?

It’d be an adventure, suggested Doris, though Penny was certain she was only joking. However, as Thelma hadn’t immediately discounted the idea, she thought she might be taking it seriously.

May I make a suggestion? Penny spoke into the silence and went ahead when no one objected. There’re spare rooms at the house I live in, and I’m sure Betty—she owns the house, she added for the two prospective lodgers’ benefit, won’t mind another couple of guests, at least for the evening. What do you say, girls?

I’m game, was the immediate response from Doris, who pumped Penny’s hand vigorously again.

I don’t suppose I’d be allowed to go into London to book into the Savoy, would I? Mary asked. The look of incredulity on Thelma’s face showed what she thought of that particular idea, so Mary turned back to face Penny. I’d be delighted to accept, Penny, thank you.

Thelma let out a sigh of relief. Yes, thank you for this, Penny. Please thank Betty for me when you see her, too. You’ve solved an awkward situation. I’d hope Dorothy has something arranged, but as she’s obviously decided to bugger off without telling anyone… I’ll be having words with her tomorrow, she finished, not troubling to keep the scowl of annoyance from her face. So unless there’s anything else?

Penny, Doris, and Mary all shook their heads.

In that case, I’ll wish you a good night and will see you all tomorrow morning, Thelma finished before grabbing her hat, handbag, and gas mask case and striding out of the hut, leaving behind three women who were suddenly unsure about what to do now.

After several seconds’ awkward silence, Mary spoke first.

Penny, thanks awfully for putting us up tonight. I hope it won’t get you into trouble with your friend.

Betty? No, she’s the sweetest soul I’ve ever come across. She wasn’t meant to be my landlady when I arrived last week either, but—shall we put it this way—Dorothy doesn’t seem to be the most reliable of sorts. I’ve only ever seen her once, and that was when I signed the multitude of forms when I first arrived, though she disappeared before we came to the matter of accommodation. She rarely seems to be around when she’s needed, from what I understand, and whilst Thelma was phoning around trying to track her down, in walked Betty, who promptly offered to put me up. We hit it off over the weekend, and on Monday she spoke to Dorothy and told her she’d be very happy for me to stay with her permanently. Thelma told me earlier everything’s now been arranged.

As easy as that? Mary asked, obviously not quite believing what she’d heard.

Penny shrugged. As easy as that. Remember what Thelma said? We’re not a military force, though the ATA does have certain similarities. However, it does mean it’s easier, when it’s needed, to bend certain guidelines. And so long as we’re safely billeted, that’s the main thing.

And you don’t think she’ll have a problem with a couple of freeloaders? Doris threw in.

I’m not sure what a freeloader is, but there really are plenty of rooms, Penny stated after a few seconds, enough for the other two to catch on she was sidetracking the question.

Doris persisted. We won’t be chucked out in the middle of the night?

Penny could only shrug. To be perfectly honest, I can only say you’ll have a roof over your heads tonight. Betty’s away at her parents’ and said she won’t be back until the wee hours, so you should be safe until morning.

Doris let out a shrill burst of laughter. That’ll do me, honey, and matched actions to words by getting to her feet and hoisting her carpetbag over one shoulder, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with the other. Shall we go?

Mary too got to her feet and buttoned up her coat—tweed, Penny noted—and then surprised them all by asking, Where can we get a taxi?

Um…taxi? queried Penny.

Doris let go of her case and linked her arm through one of Mary’s. Honey, I don’t think there’re any taxis on an airbase. She’s got a point, though, Pen. How do we get to your place?

Penny poked her head out the door and was pleased to note it had stopped raining. We walk, she informed them. It’s only just over a mile. Then she took note of the size of Doris’s case and the two cases clustered at Mary’s feet and decided otherwise. On the other hand, give me a few minutes, and I’ll see if I can whistle up something from the MT flight.

MT flight? Mary queried as Penny was about to step through the door.

Mechanical Transport, explained Penny and then hurried out.

Mary turned to Doris after the door had shut. That’s not much clearer, she admitted.

Nor for me, agreed Doris, but I think it means she’s gone to borrow a car.

That’s okay, then, smiled Mary and lowered herself onto a seat to wait.

****

And this is the cottage, Penny told them as they pulled up outside a two-storied red brick house with twin windows projecting out of the slated roof, a hint of further rooms hiding under the eaves. It looked much too large to let itself be called a mere cottage.

Doris whispered loud and long, When you said cottage, I was wondering how it’d fit four grown women… She paused and stretched her neck back so as to look upward at where twin chimneys groped majestically for the skies. But now I can see. She turned to look up at Penny. I think you need to think about renaming it, though, she added, indicating the sign in neat white letters nailed to the front gate.

Penny jumped with reasonable ease from the cab of the lorry in which she’d persuaded a friendly driver to chauffeur them, and offered a hand to Doris and Mary as they shuffled with somewhat less grace after her.

I don’t think Betty would agree, she told them as they made their way to the lorry’s tailgate and took back their luggage from the driver, who’d hopped into the rear. "She’s very fond of the place and the