she is the Lilian Miles on the list, there has to be a reason for her not mentioning it for over seventy years. She’s quite frail now and I don’t want to upset her.’
‘You want to make sure it really is her before you go to her,’ Jack said, nodding. ‘I get that.’
‘There could be something in the records that gives us a clue about why she might not have mentioned it,’ I said. ‘Sometimes we find reports of actions that might have been upsetting. Maybe someone died – as far as I know some of the ATA did die. Amy Johnson, for one.’
‘I’ve heard of her,’ Jack said in delight. ‘She was in the ATA was she?’
I nodded. ‘Crashed in bad weather,’ I told him. ‘Obviously Lil didn’t die, but maybe she lost a friend? Or was in some sort of accident? It could be anything.’
‘You’re very caring,’ Jack said.
He pulled his chair closer to mine and I got another whiff of his aftershave.
‘You look different,’ I said, unable to resist commenting, and wanting to shift his attention off me.
‘I was doing a press conference for the new series of Mackenzie,’ he said, pulling at his T-shirt self-consciously. ‘My agent always makes me dress up for them.’
He leaned closer to me.
‘I just wear what she tells me to wear,’ he said, in a low voice even though there was no one around to hear him. ‘I’m hopeless with fashion and stuff. She gets a stylist to buy me clothes.’
He looked down at himself and then back at me with a funny, embarrassed grin. ‘What do you think?’
‘Of the clothes?’ I stammered. ‘Oh, nice. You look, erm, great.’
Jack smiled properly now. ‘So do you,’ he said.
I felt a blush crawl up my neck and on to my face so I turned away. ‘Service records,’ I said hurriedly. Thank goodness I never met the celebrities if I developed thumping big crushes like this one on them all.
‘Service records,’ Jack echoed.
We had access to so many databases, that it was hard to keep track. We used most of the Second World War ones often, but I’d never had the need to search the ATA archive before. I hoped that meant none of my colleagues checked it very often either and no one would notice me searching for a Miles family member.
It took me a while to find the right site, then check the folder where we stored all our shared logins and type it in.
When the site eventually loaded, I breathed out in relief. It was formatted exactly like most of the Forces sites. ‘It’s all very easy,’ I explained. ‘We just need to search for the name and the dates. Your grandfather …’
‘No, do Lilian first,’ Jack said. ‘Go on – I really want to know if she’s your aunt.’
With hands that trembled slightly, knowing I was doing something wrong and that Fliss would be furious if she caught me, I typed Lilian Miles and 1940–45 into the search bar and pressed return.
It took a while, but it brought up just one result. Lilian Miles, it said, 15/10/23, Air Transport Auxiliary. I gasped.
‘That’s her,’ I said. ‘That’s Lil’s date of birth.’
‘Click on it,’ Jack urged.
I shook my head, wobbling again over what I was doing. ‘I don’t need to,’ I said. ‘We know it’s her now. We don’t need to know any more.’
‘You said you might be able to work out if there was anything upsetting from looking at the records,’ Jack pointed out.
‘I don’t want to,’ I said.
But Jack leaned across me and clicked on Lil’s name, and the screen filled with details. It had Lil’s personal information – her date and place of birth, her age when she joined up, and where she did her basic training.
I glared at him, but I wasn’t really cross. It was too interesting.
I scanned the page, trying to take it all in. Lilian had done so much when she had been so young. And then, right at the bottom of the screen was what I assumed was the reason for Lil never mentioning her time in the ATA.
Jack saw it at the same time as I did.
‘Ah,’ he said.
There, in large capital letters, it said: DISHONOURABLE DISCHARGE.
Lilian
June 1944
I stayed stock-still as Flora drew a line up the back of my calf.
‘It tickles,’ I giggled.
‘Don’t move,’ she warned. ‘I’ve got very steady hands but I can’t keep it straight if you wiggle. There, done.’
I twisted round so I could see her handiwork. I’d covered my legs in gravy browning. Flora’s addition – which was more gravy browning, but made up to a thicker paste – made it look like I was wearing nylon stockings.
‘Not bad,’ I said, approvingly. ‘Shall I do you now?’
‘Make sure it’s straight,’ Flora said. She hitched up her skirt and I took the narrow brush from the pot and started to draw.
‘Are you excited?’
I concentrated on keeping the line straight. ‘I love dancing,’ I said. ‘You know I love music.’
‘Maybe you can get up on stage with the band.’ Flora chuckled. ‘Show them all how it’s done.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, wishing I could. I missed playing piano more than anything else. There was a church hall in the nearby village with a rackety old upright in the corner and sometimes I sneaked in there, but it wasn’t the same.
‘When this bloody war is over, I’m going to play the piano every single day,’ I told Flora.
She smiled over her shoulder at me. ‘I’m going to wear stockings that dogs don’t want to lick,’ she said.
From across the hut, Annie joined in. ‘And I’m going to wear clothes that fit,’ she said, hitching her belt a notch tighter. Our rations didn’t seem to be going as far any more and we were all far skinnier than we’d been when the war started.
‘All done,’ I said, finishing Flora’s seams.
She peered over her shoulder and clapped her hands in pleasure. ‘Gorgeous, darling,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind us tagging along with you and Will?’
I
