China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) Madalyn Morgan (books to read in your 30s .TXT) 📖

‘The kitchen’s closed,’ the waitress said, as they entered. ‘I can make you some sandwiches and there’s apple cake left, if you’d like some?’

‘That will be lovely,’ Claire said. ‘Could we also have some tea, please?’

‘Yes,’ the waitress said. ‘If you’d like to go into the sitting room, I’ll bring it in as soon as I’ve cleared the tables in here.’ When she and the other waitress arrived with their supper, Johnny made a fuss of helping them, causing them to blush.

The lunch they’d had at Ringway was so filling that the girls weren’t hungry. The boys were and devoured the sandwiches, insisting the girls shared the apple cake, which they did. It was a perfect end to an exciting day. When they finished supper they went up to their rooms. Johnny again tried to persuade Ellen to join him for a nightcap, but she wasn’t having any of it.

‘Nice of you to ask, Johnny, but I think we should all get some sleep. We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Night night,’ she said, going into the bathroom as Claire came out.

Claire had just undressed, put on her pyjamas, and was sitting in bed reading the parachuting instructions when there was a knock on the door. ‘Who is it?’

‘Nick. Can I come in?’

Claire jumped out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown. Pulling it on, she opened the door. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Johnny has locked me out of our room. Ellen’s in there with him. I can hear them talking.’

‘I thought she’d been a long time. You don’t think he’ll take advantage of her, do you?’

‘No. At least I don’t think he will. He has done in the past. He sweeps girls off their feet with his charming ways, and a few days later he tires of them and leaves them, breaking their hearts.’

At that moment Ellen came skipping into the bedroom in her towelling robe, with her wash bag in her hand and a towel over her arm. ‘Hello, been swapping notes? If you need to know anything, Claire’s the girl to ask. There are a couple of things I need to pick her brain about, so if you don’t mind,’ she said, holding the door open and smiling at Nick.

Claire burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, Nick, I think you’ve had your leg well and truly pulled.’

‘I think I have.’ Blushing with embarrassment or anger, Claire wasn’t sure which, Nick said goodnight and left the girls’ room.

‘I’m going to sleep, unless you want to talk about tomorrow?’ Claire said, taking off her dressing gown and getting into bed again.

‘No. I only said that to get rid of Nick.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Ellen nodded. ‘Put the light out then, will you?’ Claire turned over, pulled her pillow down so it nestled between her chin and her neck and was asleep in seconds.

At breakfast the next day the atmosphere between the boys was frosty. It didn’t last long. By the time the car came for them they were talking, and by the time they arrived at the hanger, they were chatting as normal.

The windsock on the control tower had been horizontal the day before, but today it was drooping, which meant it wasn’t as windy. Without a gusting ground wind the second jump from the balloon went well for all of them. Afterwards they were taken to another hanger and shown an old fuselage with a hole in the middle.

‘This is the size of opening you’ll be jumping through, ladies and gentlemen. Do you have any questions?’

‘The hole doesn’t look big enough for someone wearing a parachute to get through,’ Claire said.

‘Deceiving, isn’t it? But I assure you it is. OK, take a break, eat something, and be back here at two o’clock.

Again they discussed the training over lunch. None of them ate much; they were all too nervous. Claire decided on a sandwich – it would be less to lose if there was turbulence. When they had finished eating they returned to the hanger, put on their parachutes, piled into a light utility truck called a Tilly, and were driven to an outlying runway where they boarded a twin-engine Whitley III.

As the Whitley took off, Claire’s stomach churned. A few seconds later she went deaf. She swallowed hard and yawned. Neither action made any difference. Eventually the plane levelled and her ears popped, but all she could hear was the roar of the plane’s engines.

Martin beckoned her with his thumb. She put two thumbs up to let him know she was ready. Staggering to the hole at the centre of the fuselage, she took a deep breath – and on Martin’s count of three, Claire fell from the plane. Without a strong wind the drop was more enjoyable. Her tummy tightened, as she expected it to, and air whooshed into her mouth and up her nose. She was lifted and dropped, as she had been when she jumped out of the balloon, and the parachute opened. Swinging and falling, she looked down and prepared to land. When she landed it was at a speed she was comfortable with. Without a ground wind to hinder her, she gathered up the chute quickly. The next three practice falls were progressively better. The last, Martin said, was perfect. By the end of the course, Claire was confident that she was good enough to parachute into France. She hoped she was good enough to get the job with the SOE.

‘Good work, all of you,’ Martin said, when they were back in the hanger.

‘I think I speak for all of us when I say we’ve had a marvellous time, sir,’ Johnny said.

Claire nodded. ‘We’ve learned so much. Thank you, sir.’

‘Thank you, all of you. Working with young people like yourselves makes my job not only worthwhile,