The Iron Storm by CW Browning (classic literature books TXT) 📕

to her feet, a rush of warmth going through her straight to her toes. His arm slid around her waist as he led her towards the dance floor and Evelyn sighed. This was what she needed above all else: his arms around her, and the feeling of belonging that they invoked. When she was with Miles, it didn’t matter what tomorrow would bring, or what yesterday had wrought. All that mattered was that they were together, and together they could face anything.

RAF Northolt

May 1

The door to Evelyn’s small office opened without warning and she started, looking up as a pilot strode in, his light brown hair wind-tossed and his blue eyes bright from the fresh air.

“It’s about time you decided to show your lovely face around here again,” he exclaimed. “I thought you’d run off with that pilot fellow, Mark.”

Evelyn gurgled with laughter, watching as he kicked the door closed and tossed his hat onto a hook on her coat stand.

“His name is Miles, as you well know, and of course I didn’t run off with him. There is a war on, you know.”

“Yes, I’d noticed.” Flying Office Fred Durton crossed to her desk and perched on the corner, swinging his leg carelessly. “Where’ve you been, then? Off training little chicks again?”

“Yes.”

“You were gone for ages! Where were they? Timbuktu?”

“Wales.”

Fred grimaced comically. “Would’ve been better off in Timbuktu,” he announced. “It’s been jolly dull around here without you, y’know. There was a party at the officer’s last week and I’ve never seen a more depressing collection of moon-faced marching women in all my life.”

“Fred!” Evelyn frowned at him reprovingly. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

“True, though,” he said, unrepentant. “Why can’t more of them look like you? Is that too much to ask?” He tilted his head suddenly, looking at her. “Although, you’re looking a bit peaked, m’dear. Are you all right?”

She sighed in resignation. “I had a bout with the flu,” she said. “I’m fine now, but I’m afraid I’m not up to my usual self yet, no.”

“Good Lord, sorry to hear that. That’s Wales for you. Cold, damp place, or so I’ve heard. Never been myself. Couldn’t pay me enough.”

“Really, Fred, you’re too much,” she exclaimed, laughing despite herself. “Wales is beautiful. Wonderful countryside and rolling hills.”

“Exactly. Hills. Country. Who wants that? I see enough of that in my own part of the country.” Fred grinned. “Give me London any day.”

Evelyn shook her head, smiling.

“What have you been doing with yourself?” she asked, sitting back in her chair and accepting that her correspondence would have to wait. “I know you must have got into some kind of trouble while I was gone.”

“Not a’tall. We’ve been flying every day, patrols over the channel, you know. Nothing going on up there, at least that I’ve seen. The Jerries aren’t even poking their wings out.” He picked up a pen absently, twirling it in his fingers. “I did have a bit of a scrap down at the pub with a few of the others. Some Reds were droning on about inequality and how the upper classes would never get their hands dirty with actual fighting. You know the lines, I’m sure. Anyway, they were being bores, so we took them outside and showed them a thing or two.”

“You didn’t!”

“‘Course we did. Well, stands to reason we can’t have that kind of talk in the pub, can we? Next thing you know, the whole bloody place will be decked out in propaganda and hammer and sickles. Can’t think of anything worse.”

“Oh Freddie, you can’t just go around settling those things with your fists,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “Don’t you understand? You’re just proving their point, that people like you have the power to do as they like.”

“People like me?” he grinned. “Are you throwing me in with the ruling classes? Far from it, m’dear. My family are naught but humble farmers.”

She snorted inelegantly. “Humble, my foot. You can’t fool me, Officer Fred Durton. I know who your people are.”

“Then you know we’re nowhere near peerage, for all our financial success,” he said cheerfully. “Speaking of peerage, how is the Honorable Miles Lacey?”

“He’s fine. He’s doing much the same as you, flying patrols and never seeing an enemy wingtip.”

“If this war doesn’t pick up soon, we’re going to die of boredom. I thought when Norway got overrun, we’d start to see something doing at last, but alas, nothing.” He tilted his head and looked at her. “Do you think Hitler will stop with Norway? Some of the others say that he can’t commit to an offensive in France while half his forces are tied up there.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” she said. “Half of his forces aren’t in Norway.”

“You think he has more than we know about?” he asked skeptically. “I don’t know. They say his army and navy are over exaggerated.”

“I wouldn’t put much stock in what they say,” she said dryly. “Whoever they are, they clearly don’t know a thing about the Germans.”

“You think he’ll try for France, then?” Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully. For once, a laugh didn’t grace his lips and his eyes were somber. “He’ll run right into the BEF and the French army, not to mention the Maginot. It’s not finished, mind, but they say it’s impenetrable.”

Evelyn’s lips tightened. “Nothing is ever impenetrable. There’s always a way in, or through.”

“You sound as if you don’t think France will keep the Huns out,” he said with a frown. “They kept them out in the last war.”

“Yes, but I’m very much afraid that this war will be nothing like the last war.”

“Well, so far it’s been nothing but underwhelming,” he said decidedly, sliding off her desk. “I wish they’d make up their mind and just get on with it. I’m off to take my last flight. I’ll pick you up out front at five.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

He grinned and winked. “Dinner, of course. You really didn’t think you could just sneak back here and