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Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. Flight Lieutenant James G. Beaufort-Stuart:
  5. Louisa Adair:
  6. Volunteer Ellen McEwen:
  7. Jamie:
  8. Louisa:
  9. Ellen:
  10. Jamie:
  11. Louisa:
  12. Ellen:
  13. Louisa:
  14. Ellen:
  15. Ellen:
  16. Jamie:
  17. Part 2
  18. Ellen:
  19. Louisa:
  20. Jamie:
  21. Ellen:
  22. Jamie:
  23. Louisa:
  24. Jamie:
  25. Ellen:
  26. Louisa:
  27. Ellen:
  28. Louisa:
  29. Jamie:
  30. Louisa:
  31. Ellen:
  32. Jamie:
  33. Louisa:
  34. Jamie:
  35. Louisa:
  36. Part 3
  37. Jamie:
  38. Louisa:
  39. Jamie:
  40. Ellen:
  41. Jamie:
  42. Louisa:
  43. Jamie:
  44. Ellen:
  45. Jamie:
  46. Louisa:
  47. Jamie:
  48. Louisa:
  49. Ellen:
  50. Jamie:
  51. Ellen:
  52. Louisa:
  53. Ellen:
  54. Jamie:
  55. Part 4
  56. Louisa:
  57. Jamie:
  58. Louisa:
  59. Jamie:
  60. Ellen:
  61. Louisa:
  62. Ellen:
  63. Louisa:
  64. Jamie:
  65. Ellen:
  66. Louisa:
  67. Ellen:
  68. Louisa:
  69. Ellen:
  70. Louisa:
  71. Ellen:
  72. Louisa:
  73. Jamie:
  74. Louisa:
  75. Jamie:
  76. Discover More
  77. Author’s Declaration of Accountability
  78. Further reading:
  79. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  80. About the Author
  81. ALSO BY ELIZABETH WEIN
  82. PRAISE FOR

When I finished the training course and was assigned to be the driver for an RAF aerodrome, no one at my new RAF base had the least idea where I’d come from. Scotland, aye, that was clear, but the English erks and airmen didn’t know I was a Traveller. I became a gadgy dilly like the other girls, living under a roof and wearing a uniform, and no one but me kent I’d rather be sleeping in a camp tent.

And I kept quiet about it.

At first it wasn’t on purpose. But when I realized folk weren’t bothered about me, I was careful not to let them know. A fresh start. No need to stir up trouble, aye? There was no women’s barracks at RAF Windyedge, so I was billeted at the Limehouse, Nancy Campbell’s pub in the village, and she didn’t bat an eyelash over me staying there. She was just the crabbit sort who wouldn’t take well to a fiery-haired, long-legged Scots Traveller lass staying under her roof, but she tolerated me well enough. It was grand being tolerated instead of shunned.

Better than that, at the airfield and in the pub, it was grand being liked by the RAF lads and trusted by their commanders. It’s true that Jamie Stuart knew who I was. We were both at RAF Windyedge late in the summer of 1940. But he was an old friend and didn’t give my game away. He had his own posh family that he tried to keep quiet about, being the laird’s son educated at Eton and all that. My mam and dad used to camp on his granddad’s land.

We were lucky to be close by, and I missed him when 648 Squadron went up to Shetland—I worried about him the way I worried about my own twin brother.

But apart from the worry, if I’m honest, the war so far made me grow a mite comfortable in ways I’d never expected. I didn’t think about the future—how did anyone? Should I go back to my own folk, would I marry, could I make a living? No one needed to decide any of that now, not when we might all be speaking German in another year! I might as well enjoy myself in my wartime job, enjoy being just the same as other folk.

And then in November 1940, it all turned over. After November 1940, I couldn’t be so comfortable.