Page 157 of The Gathering Storm

‘All right, I don’t mind having a go.’ The baby was tiny and unexpectedly light. He held it and felt an unexpected tremor of emotion. He was an uncle again. And this time to a girl – not a nevvy to be rough-and-tumbled, like Douglas and Peter, but a fragile china doll to be protected and cherished and petted. He thought briefly of the harshness of the world this little thing had been born into. And then he thought of Gloria, and himself, and felt sad that he would probably never have a child of his own. Gloria would not want another. And in any case, when the war began, he would be off to do his bit. He might not survive; and even if he did, when it ended – who knew how many years later? – what would be left? This was probably the nearest he’d get to fatherhood.

‘She is rather nice,’ he heard himself say.

Barbara flushed with pleasure. His compliments were rare. ‘I’m glad you can see it at last. You’re not a bad old animal really, though you like to pretend.’

‘What are you going to call her?’

‘Helena. After Mummy.’

‘That’s nice.’

The nurse came in and said it was time for Mother to rest, took the baby and drove Basil away. ‘I’ll come up and see you again later,’ he promised his sister at the door.

Downstairs, they were not talking babies, but aeroplanes.

‘The first ever commercial transatlantic passenger flight,’ Jack was saying. ‘You must see how important that is. And the baby was born on the very same day. The 28th of June will be a significant date for ever. Think of Blériot, Alcock and Brown.’

‘I see that,’ Freddie said patiently, ‘but I still don’t think it warrants calling the baby Dixie.’

‘I didn’t mean as a first name,’ Jack urged. ‘A middle name. Helena Dixie.’

‘I adore the name Dixie,’ Basil said, ‘but I’m not seeing the connection.’

‘Basil, don’t stir,’ Helen said sternly.

‘The Pan American flying boat that flew this momentous first crossing is an NC18605 Dixie Clipper,’ Jack explained.

‘It’s also a Boeing B314,’ Helen said, ‘but you’re not proposing to call the baby Boeing.’

Jack lifted his hands. ‘All right, I withdraw the suggestion. But you have to be excited, at least. This is what we’ve been waiting for for years. It’s a new epoch in air travel. Now anyone can fly across the Atlantic in twenty-four hours!’

‘As long as they have the money,’ Helen added.

‘I’ll be excited with you, Dad,’ Basil said. ‘I know how much it means to you. And I must say, I’d like to visit America that way, in one day rather than five. Tell me all about it.’

He had read most of it in the newspapers, of course, but he was fond of the old man, and knew he’d enjoy telling it all again. And it stopped anyone asking questions about his life.

‘Well, they’ve been doing proving flights for five weeks, of course, carrying mail only,’ Jack said. ‘And then there was an inspection flight with just twelve passengers, members of the press, before they could get the CAA certificate – that’s the Civil Aviation Authority. But they’ve been testing mail routes since last year. The problem has always been how to carry enough fuel. The mail clippers used up so much of their internal space with fuel tanks there wasn’t room for passengers.’

‘They tinkered with the idea of air-to-air refuelling,’ Helen said. ‘You know, Alan Cobham’s probe-and-drogue system. But I doubt they’d ever get permission to do that with paying passengers on board.’

‘I don’t suppose the passengers would care for it much, either,’ said Basil. ‘Anyway, I must say, if I were crossing all that water, I think I’d like to know it was on a sea plane, just in case.’

‘Darling, you can have no idea how nearly impossible it would be to put down a sea plane safely in mid-Atlantic,’ Helen said.

‘So what’s the point, then?’

‘Being able to stop and refuel at places without air strips,’ Jack said. ‘Like Horta on the southern route to Europe, and Ireland and Newfoundland on the northern route to America.’

‘I expect it was very luxurious,’ Basil said.

‘They did their best,’ said Helen. ‘The bunks convert into beds. Dinner was silver service, six courses, with chefs trained in four-star hotels. Separate lounge and dining areas. Male and female dressing rooms so they could change for bed. I read an account by a passenger who said it was all so nice she forgot she was flying.’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t quite see how that was possible, given the noise. Aeroplanes are never quiet. I suppose it was poetic licence.’

‘Given enough champagne and caviar, people can ignore anything,’ Basil said.

‘These flying boats are only an interim measure, anyway,’ Jack said. ‘They’re too slow, and the choice of routes is restricted. Lufthansa flew an airliner non-stop from Berlin to New York last year as a proving flight for a landplane service across the Atlantic. I’ve heard they’re working towards a regular passenger service. It would be a pity if we let the Germans get ahead of us, like they did with the airships. Especially given the situation.’ He looked at Basil speculatively, a question forming in his eyes.

‘Have you heard from Michael recently?’ Basil asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.