Nobody in the officer’s mess even batted an eyelid at her work coveralls, not even the waiters, who she would have expected it from mostly - it truly was a different squadron that she had joined. However, her own sense of decency wouldn’t allow her to have dinner in the more formal dining room, so instead she remained in the lounge area and took a plateful of food at the bar.

She couldn’t see the rest of the squadron, but she heard them; they were laughing and talking so loudly in the dining room that she couldn’t miss them. She found that she actually really wanted to join them, bask in their company, get to know them and maybe even find out their names, but discipline won out and she remained at the bar on her own.

While she ate she stared at the photos pinned to the wall behind the bar - she hadn’t noticed them the last time she’d been in the bar because her attention had been fixed firmly on the red trophies over her head. There were a couple of dozen pictures, mostly of the squadron and the pilots, but there were also a few images of enemy aircraft.

In the centre was a photo of the entire squadron in front of the Eiffel Tower, resplendent in their dress uniforms and accompanied by a few French dignitaries. Another showed them on standby in front of what was obviously a French Chateau, most of them asleep in deck chairs not unlike the ones that were stacked outside the mess. There were pictures of individuals, smiling and laughing, and one of Abby with a woman who was quite obviously her sister from the resemblance between them.

There were also a few curious images, among them a couple of photos taken from gun camera footage - the one of two MU9’s coming apart at the same time, hit by the same burst, was particularly impressive, but there was also one that showed a triplane with barely visible tracer bullets reaching out towards it, but not quite intersecting it, and she wondered why it was there and where it was from. The photo that most puzzled her, though, was a single dark picture of some crates with Prussian writing on them and she spent some time trying to decipher it before giving up and going back to the more interesting ones.

However, no matter how fascinated she was by the photos, they couldn’t keep her from going back to work after she’d finished her food. She drained the dregs of the single pint of bitter that she’d allowed herself, which went on a tab that she discovered had been started for her, thanked the waiter behind the bar, then left.

She had been quick, but evening was well on its way to night by the time she stepped outside and she could only dimly make out the shapes of the squat buildings around the airfield. None of them had visible lights, of course, because blackout rules were in effect. It wasn’t hard to retrace her steps across the airfield, though, and she arrived at the workshop only a couple of minutes later. However, there was a heavy black curtain hung across the doorway, blocking all light from escaping, and it was the work of a good few minutes more before she could find the opening and force her way through to the brightly lit interior. She expected the fitters or Jimmy to be there, but she had eaten so hurriedly that she had beaten them back and instead she was surprised to find Wing Commander Lennox standing staring at the half-stripped Wasp.

Gwen stood beside her and together they took in the sad sight of the machine.

The silence lasted for a long minute until finally the woman sighed. ‘I’m glad somebody’s repairing her at last. I was wrong to keep her as she was; it was a reminder, yes, but it wasn’t what the squadron needed, it wasn’t good for us. Hopefully when she’s flying again she can be a different kind of reminder - not of death, but of the fact that even with all the madness in the world there is still beauty and life goes on.’

‘I hope so too.’

Abby turned and smiled at Gwen. ‘So, Aviator Sergeant, what can I do?’

‘You’re going to help?’

The woman gestured at her work clothes. ‘I got all dressed up, I might as well do something.’

‘Thank you, ma’am, I could certainly use an extra pair of hands.’

‘I know. And it’s Abby, remember.’

‘Well, then, Abby, how are you with a pneumatic bolt remover?’

They had been working for less than fifteen minutes before Sergeant Jenkins walked in with his five fellow fitters. They nodded to the base commander and silently took up their tools to get back to work.

Shortly after that, Jimmy slunk in, bringing with him packets of biscuits and tea in a large urn on a hand cart which he rolled into the corner by the door, out of the way. He turned a large handle on the cart a few times, starting the clockwork heating element in the urn, then adjusted the thermostat so that the hot liquid inside would gently simmer and not boil, slowing the gentle ticking of the mechanism. He lifted the lid on the big brass urn and peered inside, then, apparently satisfied, he wandered over to where Abby and Gwen were removing some damaged control wiring.

‘Alright, mum?’

‘James.’ She nodded at him. ‘Thanks for bringing the tea.’

‘That’s alright, you know me - always happy to help.’

Jimmy grinned at Gwen and the wing commander rolled her eyes. ‘Always happy to help a good-looking woman, you mean?’

Jimmy shrugged but said nothing, just gave Gwen another grin and wandered off to start pouring tea into mugs for the fitters.

Gwen frowned as she replayed the short exchange. ‘Did he call you “mum” or “ma’am”?’

‘Didn’t you know? James is my son.’

Without waiting for an answer Abby ducked back into the fuselage, leaving Gwen staring at the back of her head.

A couple of hours later they took a break and wandered over to Jimmy’s cart to get some tea and biscuits. The two of them stood watching the boy, who had attached himself to Sergeant Jenkins and was watching him intently, helping whenever he could without getting in the way.

Gwen didn’t even have to ask anything; Abby just started to talk about her son, as if it were something she had been desperate to share with someone, but never had the chance.

‘Jimmy loves aircraft, he always has done and he begged me to take him with me when the squadron went to France, but I refused and left him here at boarding school, which was just as well, really, considering how that turned out. Not all our ground crew made it back and Cece...’

Abby sighed and took a deep breath, an expression of pain briefly crossing her face before she continued. ‘But when we returned I no longer had an excuse and he didn’t leave me much choice in the matter either - the MG’s picked him up a couple of villages away, wandering around and asking the way to the “top secret RAC base”...’

She smiled at the lad fondly. ‘After that I thought it would be best to keep him close so I could keep an eye on him. He’s not enlisted, not yet anyway, because he’s still too young, but he makes himself useful. He’s already a handy mechanic, but he doesn’t actually want to fly, he just wants to be around the machines. He takes after his father like that.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking, where is his father?’

‘He died in an accident shortly after Jimmy was born. I was eighteen at the time. It’s just been the two of us since then.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Abby waved away Gwen’s sympathies with a grin. ‘I would have left him anyway; he was more than twice my age. I only fell for him because he was a pilot and he obviously wasn’t a very good one!’

Gwen had no idea whether she was supposed to laugh at the woman’s joke or not, but she was saved from making a decision when Abby suddenly turned deadly serious and put a hand on her arm.

‘Right. Before you start making any changes to Wasp, I need to tell you something.’

Gwen tried to maintain her smile even as she prepared to have her hopes dashed. She was sure that Abby was going to shoot down her plans for Wasp and tell her not to change anything about the machine, tell her that she wanted it restored to exactly how it had been before, when her sister was flying it.

‘I know Jimmy told you that Wasp was my sister’s aircraft and yes, I wish that I had never had the need to bring you here, because that would mean that she was still alive, and yes, I will kick you out on your arse if you disobey my orders in combat or do anything to hurt this squadron or anyone in it.’ The words came out in a rush and she gasped for breath before continuing. ‘But, having said all that, Wasp is yours now and I want you to know that if you wish to make any modifications then I won’t stand in your way, just as long as you have her ready in the three days that I gave you. Although, it would be nice if you kept her name; I think she likes it.’

Relief washed through Gwen and she shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t change it.’

‘Thank you.’ Abby nodded, smiling sadly. ‘Feel free to paint her as you like, though; we had opposite colour schemes, Cece and I, to commemorate being sisters, or something silly like that, but there’s no reason for you to keep Wasp like she was.’

‘Thank you.’

Abby sighed. ‘Well, I must admit that is a bit of a weight off my chest. There is one last thing I have to say, though - I am still this squadron’s commander and I need to see the plans you have for her before you start making your modifications; it’s my obligation to make sure that no pilot in my charge takes to the air in something that isn’t airworthy. So, whenever you have something drawn up let me know.’

Gwen sipped at her tea, then smiled at her over the mug. ‘I already do.’

‘Already?’ Abby looked at her with her mouth open and eyes wide. ‘Can I see them?’

‘Of course!’

Gwen led the way to the office and gestured at the three drawing boards in the row underneath the windows looking out on the workshop.

‘These are your sister’s original plans. On the next desk over are the blueprints I’ve made from them and those...’ She pointed at the last drawing board where the finalised design was pinned. ‘Those are mine.’

Abby moved to stand at the first drawing board. She reached out to touch the signature in the bottom right-hand corner and Gwen realised with a start that there were two names there, not just one - she’d been so focused on the aircraft itself that she hadn’t noticed that the plans were signed not just by Cece, but by Abby as well.

The woman saw her expression. ‘Cece and I designed Wasp and Dragonfly together, at the same time. It was the way we always worked, bouncing ideas off of each other until we had something that was much better than we could come up with individually. Without her I just... I can’t...’ Words failed her and she just shrugged, showing where Jimmy had gotten the gesture from.

She moved over to the next board and smoothed the tracing paper down so that she could see it better. ‘You did this in the few hours you had before dinner? That’s... Well, remarkable doesn’t quite say enough.’

She pulled the tracing paper away to reveal the original design underneath, then replaced it. She frowned and leaned forward to peer more closely at the tail section. ‘You’ve shortened her.’

‘Only by three inches. She’ll be tighter in turns.’

‘But won’t she be unstable?’

Gwen shook her head. ‘I’m compensating by taking two inches from the wingspan.’

The wing commander nodded slowly and sighed as she traced the lines of the wings, their shapes slightly different to how her sister had made them. ‘Well, I can’t pretend to understand how this will affect her mood, but I can see what you’re doing.’

She pulled the tracing paper away and gazed at the plans underneath. ‘Do you think I could have these when you’re done with them?’

‘Of course. I’ll put them with the rest of your sister’s drawings.’

‘Thank you.’

Abby smiled and nodded in gratitude, then moved across to the last board where Gwen had drawn out the design properly. She scanned them quickly, looking back and forth from them to the tracing paper on the previous board, checking to make sure that they were identical. She nodded her approval after only a few seconds, then walked back to the door. ‘Sergeant Jenkins!’

Through the window Gwen saw the man look up from what he was doing. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘When you can, come into the office, please!’

‘Right away, ma’am.’ Jenkins motioned for Jimmy to take his place then walked towards them, wiping his hands on a rag. ‘What can I do for you, ma’am?’

Abby smiled. ‘Aviator Sergeant Stone has some plans she would like to show you.’

Around midnight Gwen called it a day and ordered the fitters to go to bed and rest. She was pleased, but not at all surprised, to see that they were reluctant to leave their work, but she knew that the repairs wouldn’t take as long as she’d thought they would; they worked so well and efficiently that she had been able to take almost a whole day off her estimates. That meant they wouldn’t have to miss much sleep, which in turn meant that there was less possibility of an accident happening, or a mistake being made.

Exhausted, she and Abby made their way to the pilots’ barracks. The wing commander bade her goodnight and went into her room, leaving Gwen to continue down the corridor. She sneaked into the long dormitory without turning on the light so as not to disturb her new bunkmate and felt her way to the second bed, finding that it had been made and her kit had been moved. She smiled, resolving to make sure that she did something nice for Kitty as soon as she could, then removed her coveralls and slipped between the sheets.

As soon as her head hit the pillow she was lost to darkness and dreams of ratios and angles and a stinging, buzzing insect that seemed to be trying to tell her something.

Thank you so much for reading. ‘The Battle Over Britain’ is Simon Brading's first novel in his ‘Misfit Squadron’ series. More information on where to obtain the book as well as other information about Simon and the series can be found on his website. Also, Simon would love to hear from you about this, or any of his work — please get in touch on Bluesky. We invite you to read Chapter Four by clicking the right-arrow down there on the right. Of, If you missed out on Chapter two, you can go back and read in now by clicking the left-arrow below. Alternatively, you can go back to the beginning of the book with the beginning-arrow also over on the left.