Read Online Two Blackbirds by Garry Ryan - Free Book Online

you need to watch out because you haven’t been bred to live in the world of posh politics. Just because you don’t want the glory and have earned your way doesn’t mean that everyone else is like that.”
    Just when I thought this was getting easier. Sharon felt weariness settle onto her shoulders. “Shit.”
    â€œA very apt word to describe what’s been going on since her ladyship arrived. Now go get cleaned up and I’ll have her majesty ready her chariot.” Mother picked up the phone and waved Sharon away.
    After a quick shower and change of clothes, she grabbed her parachute and walked out to the Anson. She eased inside the Anson’s side door.
    Lady Ginette sat in the pilot’s seat. “Welcome aboard!” She started the first engine.
    Sharon settled herself in. Mother has only said something about a pilot on three occasions. One was a drunk who was endangering lives. The second was an accident waiting to happen, and the third is sitting in the cockpit of the Anson.
    Sharon watched as Ginette worked the controls and was impressed with the woman’s abilities as a pilot. Her hands were soft and confident, she kept her head out of the office, and she was always one step ahead. A pilot always needs to be one step ahead .
    After landing, Sharon said, “Thanks for the ride!”
    Ginette smiled and waved.
    â€œHow long have you been flying?” Sharon opened the door.
    Ginette held up ten fingers and nodded in the direction of the aircraft parked on the apron. “Hope you don’t find out why they call it a meat box!”
    Sharon stepped out into the prop wash. She took about ten steps, turned, and watched the Anson taxi away. I’ll have to do some checking on this one. That was a rather nasty thing to say to any pilot.
    She turned around and spotted her delivery. The twin-engined fighter balanced on tricycle landing gear. Its canopy glinted in the sunlight.
    â€œThis’ll put those 616 boys at Manston in their place.” A mechanic stepped out of the hangar and onto the concrete apron where the Meteor sat in its camouflage grey and green. The mechanic was dressed in immaculate white coveralls; his black hair was slicked back with pomade.
    Sharon looked at him. “Will you show me the taps, please?”
    The mechanic nodded and became suddenly businesslike. “No offense. It’s just that those boys at 616 think they’re a pretty elite bunch because they’re the first squadron to be equipped with a jet.”
    Sharon smiled, set her parachute on the wing root, and did her walk around. Don’t tell him he looks like a movie star playing a mechanic. He’ll get all puffed up. She pulled her hair back, tied it into a ponytail, and tucked it under her leather helmet. Then she strapped the parachute on.
    The mechanic climbed onto the wing, then waited for her to follow and get settled in the cockpit. He watched as she tested the controls. “The ailerons get heavy at high speed just like the Spitfire and the Tempest,” he said. “The various controls are in the usual places. The only thing that takes a bit of adjusting to is the throttle.”
    Sharon nodded, smiled, and slid the canopy closed. The mechanic got off the wing and waited by the start-up cart. Sharon started first one engine and then the other. She watched the mechanic slide the cart away. He gave her a wave.
    Sharon enjoyed the forward view without an engine and a propeller in the way. She slid the throttle forward. The Meteor inched ahead and gathered itself.
    After takeoff, she was surprised by the quiet, since all of the engine noise was behind her. She flew for the south of London at three hundred and eighty miles per hour during the half-hour flight. There’s nothing to do but concentrate on flying, familiarize yourself with the Meteor’s handling, and find the airfield. Her mind was cleared of all of the other duties awaiting her on the