Heart of War Read Online Free

Compasses, too, Probyn thought – who asked them to come here? Even as he turned away, he heard a screech of brakes, and saw that the staff car had come too fast round the corner, and would not be able to avoid the lorries. As he watched, right outside the church gate, the car skidded sideways into the leading lorry and lurched over onto its side with a fearful crash and rending of metal. At once the engine caught fire. Everyone stood frozen, for everyone, soldiers and villagers and the wedding party, had had their minds on other things. Then, just as Probyn told his muscles to move, just as other men close by stirred toward action, a brown figure burst from the crowd at the gate, and ran forward. It was Stella, her bouquet hurled away, her wool dress held up. She was beside the car, dragging out one of the three uniformed men in it. Before she could get him free a dozen men were there helping, others covering the flaming engine with coats and blankets. In ten seconds all three occupants were rescued, scorched, bruised, bleeding, one unconscious, but all alive; in another minute the flames were out. Stella walked slowly back to her husband’s side. He was looking at her in awe, Probyn thought. Her dress was scarred and blackened where she had leaned into the car, her gloves red with blood, smudges of dirt on her face; but she was happy, radiant. Probyn shook his head, wondering, a little fearful. The young American didn’t know what he had caught.
    Afterwards, at the reception in the manor, Ginger Keble-Palmer stood, glass of champagne cup in hand, stooped over a little, listening to Betty Merritt. She said, ‘Ginger, you’re a director of Hedlington Aircraft, aren’t you?’
    He cracked the big knuckles of his free hand nervously. Betty Merrit was good-looking without being exactly beautiful to his eyes; and she was terrifyingly direct – almost as bad as Guy’s cousin Naomi, across the room there. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘your father was good enough to offer me a directorship.’
    â€˜Instead of a higher rate of salary, I expect,’ Betty said. Ginger made to say something and she raised a hand – ‘What’s your chief problem?’
    â€˜Problem?’ Ginger said. ‘In the factory, you mean? It isn’t built yet … We’ve got the use of one hangar up there, but it’s nowhere near big enough to take the bomber I’ve designed. We’re working as fast as we can, three shifts a day, to build the proper sheds, and use the hangar as a sort of temporary office … very draughty, it is, too. And lonely. I feel that I’m working in King’s Cross station, or something.’
    â€˜So you work alone?’
    â€˜Almost. I have one man to help me, who’s a competent draughtsman, but …’
    â€˜But … what?’
    Ginger looked round for help, and said, ‘I have to do all the calculations – stresses, thrust, everything – myself.’
    â€˜Would you like an assistant designer? Don’t you
need
an assistant designer?’
    â€˜Yes, we do, but …’
    â€˜I have three years of advanced mathematics of every kind, and I want to specialize in aircraft design.’
    Keble-Palmer drank copiously, coughed, and spluttered – ‘But …’
    â€˜But I’m a woman, eh? What difference does that make? I can do it, Ginger. I really can. You’ll have to teach me the formulas, and give me some practical tips, but in a couple of weeks I’ll really be able to help. If
you’re
willing to accept me, I’ll speak to Johnny and my father.’
    Ginger felt as if he had been sandbagged. She must be joking. But she wasn’t. To gain time he said, ‘I thought you were going to join the Women’s Land Army.’
    â€˜Not really. Since we came over from America I’ve beenwaiting, looking for something that would suit me … excite me.’
    Ginger drank