Chapter 29

They say that the real world has a habit of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. I was determined to do nothing for as long as it takes but was only home for a week or so when the phone rang. Larry answered it, listened for a few seconds, and then passed it to me.

“It’s for you, Julia.”

I took the handset and went to sit in an easy chair before I spoke my name.

“Miss Leigh, I’m Group Captain Smithers of the Royal Air Force. I am based at RAF Shawbury, the home of the Number One Flying Training School, here in Shropshire. As part of my job, I’m liaison with HM Prisons Berwyn, not far away near Wrexham. There are a number of ex-military prisoners there, including your father. He should, because of his offence against the state, be in a Class A prison, but he is in the Class C prison, because of his age and health.”

“What can I do for you, Group Captain?”

“Your father has been asking to see Jamie, and your mother gave me this number. I don’t know what he wants to talk about, but he is very ill, and may only have months to live. I have spoken to him on several occasions, and he has no remorse for the things he did, only that he never was able to apologise to you for putting you down when you were young. The inmates do see movies, and he saw ‘Turbulence’ a few weeks ago, recognising you as the Jamie who served him drinks on a flight. He had to be told that you were, indeed, his son. Is it possible for you to come and see him? If you come to Shawbury, I can take you to see him, it's just over twenty miles from here.”

“I can make the time, Group Captain. Is it possible for me to fly there, I have a Piper Cheyenne.”

“Certainly, the lads and lassies will be pleased to see a film star arrive in her own plane. We can park it for you, and I think that I’ll be able to squeeze a few gallons of fuel into it before you leave. Actually, if you land in the afternoon, I’ll see if I can organise a movie night with one of your films for that evening, then you can stay on base, overnight, and have all the next day with your father.”

“I can bring a digital copy of ‘Katharine Wright’ if you want.”

“That would be wonderful. Could you fly in, next Monday? I’ll text you the co-ordinates and the airfield radio frequency.”

“Would it be all right for me to bring my partner as co-pilot?”

“Certainly, I’ll set up a room in the married quarters for you. I’m looking forward to seeing you on Monday.”

After we finished the call, I sat for a while and wondered if seeing my father was a good thing, or not. He was, after all, my father, even if I was one of many that he had sired to so many women. I picked up the handset and called my mother. She told me that she had no idea what he wanted to say, but, as far as she was concerned, he could rot in hell and told me that I could tell him that.

I sat down and worked out a flying time from Redhill to Shawbury, then texted Smithers with my ETA and my aircraft ID, just so they didn’t try to shoot me down. I spoke to Adrian about it, and he said that it would be an interesting experience to land at an RAF base. About an hour later, he came back to me to tell me that it was a training school for helicopter pilots, and he wondered if we could wangle a ride in one.

I got myself a quick appointment with the salon, so that I didn’t disappoint the fans, and to also make sure that my father knew that he was talking to someone far and away removed from the Jamie that he knew. While I was sitting in the chair, getting my hair done, I remembered his words when he thought that I was his illegitimate daughter. He had said that I, that is she, shouldn’t tell me, as in his son, as it would burst my bubble.

For a long time, I had thought that this was to keep his secrets from me and Mum. I started wondering if he had said that in order to save me from learning about his other lives. I decided that I would, at least, give him some slack to see how our meeting went.

On the Monday morning, Adrian drove us to the airfield, where we took our time checking the Cheyenne, before powering up, double checking all the gauges. We both loved flying this wonderful machine, so I let Adrian take off and we set a course to the airfield. The Cheyenne could have done the trip in an hour, but we conserved fuel by flying a little slower, arriving over Roden at just on midday.

I called up the tower on the frequency I had been given and was instructed to turn as I passed over Astley Lodge and line up on their runway as the wind was from the north-east. The Cheyenne had modern avionics, and I was able to pick up their approach beam and we set down on the airfield at a quarter past twelve, the ETA that I had given them. What I didn’t expect was the eight helicopters each side of the runway as we came in, hovering in parallel lines to look like a guard of honour.

When we had shed our speed, we saw a truck in front of us with a ‘Follow Me’ sign on it. We followed it to the end of the runway and around a taxiway to the main tarmac, where we were led to a parking spot between two hangars. I shut the engines down, looking out the window to see a couple of air force officers standing next to a staff car and a jeep. When we turned off all of the electrics, we went to the door and opened it, then dropped the steps. The officers were at the steps as we left the plane. I could see a couple of squaddies putting chocks under the Cheyenne. As I stepped onto the tarmac, Group Captain Smithers came forward and welcomed us to the base, and I introduced him to Adrian. He then introduced us to Captain Tolhurst, who would be looking after us while we were on the base.

Smithers said that Tolhurst would take us to the quarters and then to the mess for lunch. He then left us and went to the staff car to be driven away. I turned to the Captain.

“Busy man, your Group Captain.”

“He likes to look that way, Miss Leigh. It’s us underlings that do all the work, as usual. If you want to get your bags, I’ve got the jeep to give you the realistic experience of life in the military. Please call me Edie.”

“All right, Edie. I’m Julia and this bloke of mine is Adrian. So, what has the air force got up its sleeve. That guard of honour was a nice touch.”

“That was put together as a training exercise, this morning. The pilots were just told that a fixed wing would be arriving and to plan that manoeuvre. When they get to be piloting gunships, they may have to do something similar to fend off enemy fire as one of ours gets into the air. They will get good marks for it, as they held position well.”

“How far do you go with the training?”

“We teach them to fly, then we teach them some advanced stuff. For training on armed helicopters, they are deployed to active bases where they get to fly the real thing, along with weapons training. Anyway, here we are at the married quarters. Bring your bags and I’ll show you the room. It’s not flash, but pretty good, considering some of the places I’ve had to doss down in.”

She showed us to the room, where we put our bags on the bed.

“No key?”

“Julia, you’re inside a double barbed wire fence, with armed guards, dogs, and regular patrols. Your bags are perfectly safe. Now we get you to the lunch, many of those who were flying today will be coming to the mess to see who they paid homage to.”

She had a cheeky grin when she said that. As we were standing there, I took the opportunity to look at her ribbons. Among the general service ones, one stood out that I knew.

“You flew in Afghanistan?”

“Yes, I was a combat pilot then. It was mostly air support for the pickup missions. I didn’t get to shoot at anybody, but it was scary enough. How did you know?”

“My father had that ribbon for when he flew Tornados with the Germans. I suppose that all his medals have been stripped from him. I don’t think I’ll ask him about that when I see him tomorrow.”

She walked us to the mess, where we were greeted by a load of trainees, of both sexes, who were told to keep it polite, as I would be there for the rest of the day. We had a light lunch and answered a lot of questions. There was a big screen on one wall, and I asked if this would be where we would be showing the film. When Edie said it was, I went back to the room to get my bag with the laptop in. We checked the plugs and I put the trailer for the film on the screen. Edie stood and called out that this would be the film for tonight, and that I would be with them to answer any questions. One of the trainees was cheeky enough to ask if I had any which I was in, so I said that the laptop had compressed files of all my work. It took some discussion before it was agreed that we would show two films, straight after the evening meal. One was going to be ‘Gale’, and the other would be ‘Katharine Wright’.

In the afternoon, we were taken to the simulator and we both spent time learning to fly a helicopter. It was different, I have to say. You had to use the effect of the rotor to go up, down, forward, and back. It was fun and I managed to be quite good at it. Not enough to make me want to buy one, though.

Later, we were taken up in the real thing, with an instructor. I was in one helicopter and Adrian in another. We flew a circuit around the countryside. I was given the chance to take the controls and had a lovely time. Back at the airfield, we had a chance to freshen up before dressing for dinner. We had been told that it was usually dressy when the base is hosting visitors, so we made sure that we looked right.

The mess was set up with a top table, which would seat us, the C.O., and the upper ranks. It was a very good meal, with a choice of good wines. Afterwards, the chairs were rearranged so that everyone had a view of the screen, and I brought up the first film. They wanted me to say something first, so I told them how the film got made, and our daily helicopter flights to the location. I then got the film going and sat back in my seat.

When that one finished, there were some questions about the plot, and I also related some of the amusing reactions that it had generated in America. After that, we watched the Wright film. When that one had finished, a lot of the female trainees wanted to talk to me about other women in aviation. I explained about the Ninety-Nines, with what I knew of the history.

One asked me how long I had been flying, so I explained that I had spent a number of years as cabin crew, so would have millions of air miles before I learned how to fly, with my time with the Cessna and then with my Piper. Many nodded when I told them what my ratings were, our time spent exploring America, and the amount of avionics that the Piper carried.

By the time I was able to pack away the laptop and escape, I had gained a lot of new friends. It allowed me to settle down when we went to bed and get a good sleep. Being a military base, the day started at an ungodly hour, and I dressed to see my father. Adrian was going to stay behind, mainly to show some of the trainees the Piper. It had attracted a lot of attention, being one of only about thirty still flying.

Smithers and I were in the staff car and heading to the prison after breakfast. He was in full uniform, as befitting the RAF liaison at the prison. It took longer to get me all the proper accreditation than it took to drive there. Eventually, I had the proper lanyard, my handbag was stored in the front office, and we were escorted to the room where my father would be waiting.

Entering a prison is an experience that very few law-abiding folk get to sense. It is frightening, after the first few doors that are locked behind you, and you know that you have as much chance of leaving as the other inmates, unless someone was with you all the way.

When we arrived at the room, I was shown the seat that I had to sit on, with my father on the other side of a Perspex barrier between us. He looked terrible. We were left in the middle of the room, with a warder standing by the door on both sides. Smithers had told me that the visit would be recorded in case he said anything new. I was happy just to say hello. He looked at me and then spoke.

“Hello, Jamie. You certainly have made changes in your life. All for the better, I have to say. I now realise why my wife kicked me out after we spoke on that flight. I had been able to keep it all quiet for years.”

“Sorry, father, she knew all along. You talk in your sleep. The meeting on the plane had no bearing on the events.”

“She never said anything.”

“Quite possibly it was because she loved you – once.”

“We three was the only real family I had, and then I just couldn’t help myself and stuffed it up.”

“The way you look now, father, it’s your body that’s stuffed up.”

“It’s my way of getting an early release, Jamie. I knew that something was wrong by the blood in my stool, but I held off saying anything until it was too late. If I die in the next six months, which is what they’ve given me, then I’ll be out of here a lot of years earlier than they hoped. Please say that you’ll give me a decent burial.”

“Even though you did all those bad things, father, I’ll see that you get a good send-off. I might even invite all of the other families to see you put in the ground. I’ve got a list. There I was, thinking that I was an only child, and here I am with lots of half-siblings.”

“There’s something that they haven’t taken away from me that could pay for the service. They cleared out my apartment and sold my car, but I’ve asked the Governor to give you a key when you leave. Near Watford there’s a small airfield at Elstree. I had a plane parked there, with covers on, so that I could leave the country if things got too hot. Unfortunately, they got me while I was still airside at Heathrow. You can sell it if you want, there’s plenty who would take it off you. It was a near-new Piper M600/SLS, almost as much fun to fly as a Tornado. It’s all I have left, so make good use of it. I think that it would need a good maintenance check now, seeing that it’s been sitting there for close to ten years. It may even have to be scrapped. I had planned to be gone a few months after they nabbed me.”

“Thank you – Dad. I promise to make sure that you have a good burial. You are still my Dad, even if you were hardly there when I was young, and used to put me down when you did come home.”

“That, Jamie, was because I could see that you were a better person than I was, and it was a reaction to that. You have done well. I was proud of you when you were cabin crew, but too afraid to lower my guard. I saw you acting in that film of yours and could hardly believe that you were my child. They tell me that you’re a gifted writer for films, the only things I could write were usually forgeries.”

He coughed and held his hand to his lower stomach.

“Time for me to get back to bed, Jamie. I did love you, and your mother. You were the one stable thing in my crazy life.”

He motioned to the warder, who came over and unlocked the cuffs so he could stand. He looked at me as I stood, and he smiled.

“Goodbye, Jamie. My clever daughter.”

“Goodbye, Dad.”

He was led out and I stood for a while, with tears in my eyes. I had come, expecting to be angry and vindictive, but I finally realised that he really was a father to look up to, most of the time. I could tell, by his goodbye, that he had told one lie. I expect that it wouldn’t be six months before I organised to collect his casket.

I hardly noticed all the doors, gates and locks that opened in front of me and clanged behind me as the guards escorted Smithers and me back to the reception. There, I retrieved my bag and was given the key, on a tag with a plane ID. Smithers said that they would leave it my honesty to report anything in the plane that they should know. I asked about my father’s health and was told that he had started with bowel cancer, but it was now in so many places he was already terminal.

On the way back to the air base, I thought about what he had said, and the way he had said it. I expect that I’ll find his escape kit in the plane, maybe false papers, and money. There might even be a good suit we could use to bury him in. I knew that I was going to have to sit and have a good talk with my mother, no matter what she now thought of him.

Back at the base, Smithers talked us into staying an extra night, so that we could show a couple more films. In the afternoon, we both flew in helicopters again, with the instructors giving us a lot more time at the controls. Mine was surprised when I could tell him where we were to about a mile. The dinner was, again, dressy, and we showed ‘Occupation’ first. I stood and told them that the idea came to me from the things that my father had done, many years after the film setting. Then I showed the ‘Thirteen Women’, which got some applause when it finished.

The next day, I called Elstree to ask them if they had room for the Cheyenne. They were happy to have me visit, so I filed a flight plan, and some squaddies pushed my plane out to the main tarmac. When we switched everything on, I noticed that they had topped up the tanks, so I gave Smithers and Tolhurst a wave, made sure that nobody was close and started the motors, warming them nicely.

When I called up the tower, I was told to take the taxiway due south, as I would be taking off from the north-south runway. As I reached the end and got permission to take off, a swarm of helicopters came from the main tarmac, and formed up beside me, twitching as if they were looking for enemy. I gunned the engines, and we left the ground in the shortest distance I had ever done, climbing higher than the helicopters and banking to the left, at ninety degrees before I was over the boundary fence. I heard some applause through the headphones as we then started an anti-clockwise circuit to line us up with Elstree.

We took it easy to Elstree, landing at about eleven, and the tower directed us to a spare parking bay. This airfield was set up like a wartime one, with each plane having a designated space, with direct access to the taxi ways. When we shut down, a truck had arrived with some chocks and tie-down cables in case the wind came up.

When we had left the plane with our bags, and had locked the plane, the guys in the truck took us to the main reception building. The Pilot Shop was where we would find the airfield management. Leaving Adrian to guard our bags, I went in and saw the manager. I explained who I was, and why I was there, and showed him the key, able to give my father’s full name and final rank.

He went to a wall safe and pulled out an envelope.

“The last time he was here, he asked us if we would do a maintenance check on his plane, and to keep it ready to go. When he didn’t turn up, we covered it, but made sure the tyres were inflated, and that no water was creeping under the covers. He had paid enough for that to happen, but, with the intervening years, there will be a storage fee outstanding. If you pay that, we can get it ready to fly. I see that you came in a Cheyenne, and the 600 is very similar in the controls but has Garmin avionics. If you give me your key, we’ll get it ready to go, and I’ll get one of my instructors to take you on a shake-down circuit. He asked me to give this envelope to anyone who came for the plane who were not the police, or military police. If you and your friend want to spend a couple of hours in the café, someone will come for you when the 600 is ready to fly. We will give you an invoice, which you can pay through our banking machine.”

I thanked him and we went into the café for an early lunch. I pulled out the envelope and opened it while we were waiting for our food. There was another key, and I left it on the table as I read the letter. When I had finished, I sat back, astonished. In it, he told me the full scope of his criminal days. He had been ferrying drugs and contraband while with the airline and had done cross-channel flights in the Piper, dropping packages as he passed over certain fields in France. There was a small CD which he said held enough proof to put a lot of people in jail, with names and addresses. I resolved to pass this to the police once he had died.

What it did solve was the way he could afford the Piper and all his other activities. I didn’t show the letter to Adrian, saying that it was dynamite and the less he knew, at the moment, the safer he would be. After the meal, I found the bank of lockers mentioned. In the one that the key opened, we saw his military flying kit, with the g-force clothing and the proper fighter pilot helmet. There was also a package, which I opened to find a large amount of money.

We went and sat, watching planes until the manager came and told us that the 600 was ready to fly. He said that he would make out an invoice. I handed him the bundle of cash and said that I would like a receipt and any change. It looked as if we would be leaving in plenty of time to get back to Redhill, so opened up the Cheyenne and put our bags away. The 600 wasn’t far from where we had parked and could see a guy doing the visual inspections as the motor warmed. It made my heart sing, with the single multi-bladed turboprop giving a particular sound.

Marianne Gregory © 2024