Spitfire Girls Read Online Free

the lady herself, in the flesh.’
    Valerie Cobb stood in the fading sunlight and lit a cigarette, her gracefully shaped hands an elegant complement to a figure clad in perfect summer tailoring.
    â€˜Now or never,’ Barbara said, squeezing her companion’s arm. ‘Hello, Val,’ she said casually.
    Turning around in a flash, Valerie’s gaze took in thesmall figure and she smiled. ‘Barbara Newman – proficient in all types of biplane, with two hundred and eighty-seven hours since first licence granted.’
    â€˜You remember me, Val?’ asked Barbara.
    â€˜Good Lord – who could forget you? In any case, I have just been examining club records,’ she explained, her glance moving to Sally Remington. ‘The Ministry has given me permission to do so. Am I correct in thinking that lady is Sally Remington?’
    â€˜Yes!’ Barbara exclaimed. ‘Tennis champion.’
    Valerie turned to Sally:
    â€˜Proficient in things like Spartans, if I am not mistaken?’
    â€˜We met when you and Shirley came to Wimbledon last year,’ Sally squeaked in awe.
    â€˜Yes – our first day off since we joined forces in 1931.’
    â€˜Will you be able to use us, Val?’ Barbara demanded.
    â€˜At the present time, I have a list of six girls who have five hundred hours or more. You haven’t enough experience. For God’s sake, please try to accumulate some more. Try for R/T, navigators’ and instrument licences. In the meantime, until I can recruit, you could be helping the Army Co-op – they need anti-aircraft practice, and those hours count.’
    â€˜How do we keep in touch with you?’ Barbara was eager, her face animated.
    â€˜No need. I shall be checking every girl’s records week by week, from now onwards, and as your papers become more impressive, so you stand a better chance of war work.’
    â€˜Do you and Shirley still share that hut?’ Sally asked.
    â€˜It will soon be empty. My father thinks civilized man is on the brink.’
    â€˜So does mine,’ said Barbara. ‘Do you still write poetry?’
    â€˜Not any more,’ Valerie responded, smiling at the two athletes. ‘Perhaps when the Nazis come over, none of us will have anything to do, and such pastimes will win a girl bread coupons.’
    Nodding to the pair with the same abruptness as her manner of speech, she shook hands briefly and then was gone.
    â€˜That woman is a menace.’
    Barbara and Sally turned around to discover Noel Slater, the flight engineer who virtually lived at Maylands and who had most recently fought a lone battle to prevent club funds being ploughed into the building of a ladies’ lavatory.
    â€˜Would you prefer Hitler?’ snapped Barbara.
    â€˜She means to put the likes of you up against the man himself,’ he said, leering at Sally’s tanned legs.
    â€˜Better us than you, mate.’ Barbara was relentless.
    â€˜So, Sally Remington is back!’ he exclaimed, grinning.
    â€˜That’s right, Noel,’ she crooned, towering over the diminutive flight engineer.
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Talented fliers like myself are needed by that menacing woman.’
    â€˜What about Wimbledon, my dear?’ His voice had taken on a whining tone, and he was standing too close to Sally for comfort.
    â€˜Because of my absence, Noel, the entire tennis season will be brought to a halt for the duration of the inevitable war.’
    For once he had stopped chattering and seemed bemused.
    Barbara grabbed Sally by the arm and ushered her away.
    In the new lavatory the two girls laughed nervously. But when they had stopped, the reality of Valerie’s words began to permeate their good humour.
    â€˜They’ve a thousand hours, most of those girls,’ Barbara lamented, sitting on a polished ledge. ‘Marion Wickham has about nine hundred, and she’s the least qualified of Val’s inner circle. They