Page 79 of Never Tear Us Apart

Chapter Seventy-Six

The bombing has all but stopped by the time I finally hobble onto the airfield, but the Spitfires still wheel above us, fighting to the death.

The first thing I see is that casualties are lined up in makeshift rows on stretchers on the ground. Seeing me holding one damaged arm to my chest with the other, a nurse runs up to me.

‘Medic!’ she calls, but I shrug her off.

‘I’m fine, honestly. Where’s Dr Borg? I have to find her – it’s important.’

She shrugs, pointing down the field.

Shaking my head, I begin to limp in the direction she was pointing, my view obscured by drifting smoke. The nurse returns to her work.

Then I see the doctor kneeling over a young man on a stretcher, holding his hand.

‘Stella,’ I rasp and then again louder. ‘Stella!’

‘Maia, can you find him water?’ Stella hears my voice before she realises that I should not be there and looks up at me. ‘Don’t you worry, Terence,’ she tells her patient. ‘Water is coming.’ She points at a medic. ‘Fetch him some water please.’

Getting up, Stella runs over to my side, where I fling my arms around her, despite the pain that every movement shoots through my body.

Four Spitfires head out onto the pitted runway through the smoke of the fire.

‘What happened to you?’ Stella looks me up and down. ‘You need a stretcher, my dear child.’

‘What can they do up there when the smoke is so thick?’ I ask as the aircraft struggle into the air. ‘What can they see?’

‘Light’s still just about good enough,’ Stella says, her hand supporting me under my elbow.

Dimly, I wonder if I am in shock. ‘That’s good.’

I want to stop and stare at the sky, as if I could somehow make out Danny’s aircraft in the purple sunset. Stella lifts a canteen of water to my mouth. The medic must have returned with some for both Terence and me. I take a sip. It’s cool and clear.

When it happens, it’s almost as if I am one second ahead of time as it unfolds.

I see a Spitfire swoop in low with a Messerschmitt on its tail. It banks high, hotly pursued, heading steeply into the violet sky. The enemy’s chase is relentless. There’s no other aircraft from either side in view: just the two of them locked in a dogfight.

I know that it’s Danny.

‘Maia,’ Stella says gently. ‘Please let me help you.’

Just then, the Spit is hit. Smoke trails from one wing.

The other plane loops around and swoops back in.

I can’t hear the exchange of gunfire, but I do see another plume of smoke, this time from the Spitfire’s engine.

My heart pumps blood furiously around my body, and reserves of energy I did not think I possessed surge through me.

The time is now.

The Messerschmitt peels away, and the Spit turns, heading for the airfield. Out of options, Danny needs to try to land.

‘Ground crews,’ the shout goes out over the Tannoy. ‘Fire and rescue, get ready.’

‘He’s going to have to make an emergency landing,’ I tell Stella as she comes to my side. ‘It’s Danny, Stella.’

‘You can’t know that,’ she replies. ‘You can’t know it’s Danny.’

‘But I do,’ I say.

When I look at her, she sees my expression and knows it, too.

We watch with bated breath as the little plane judders into position to make a landing on the runway. It seems to fall and level, fall and level, almost like a controlled crash.

‘Landing gear is fucked!’ someone calls. ‘Gonna be a belly flop.’

Firefighting trucks head towards where the Spit will land. Stella and I watch transfixed as the aircraft’s engines sputter and cut, smoke pouring from her wounds.

At the very last moment, Danny pulls up and the Spit overshoots the end of the runway, almost skimming the tops of the fire trucks as he tries to avoid crashing into the people on the ground.

Somehow, he turns the Spitfire hard and she comes down, ploughing into the earth with a horrifying crunch and screech of metal.

The plane slides through the dry earth, far out of reach of the men on standby, ploughing into the deep-red soil at alarming speed, far closer to me and Stella than to the rescue teams.

I’m running towards it before I’m even aware of what I’m doing – Stella, too. Stella’s longer legs and months of constant walking power her ahead of me. The Spit crumples into a low wall, and bright flames burst into life at once.

I catch up with Stella.

‘He’s not trying to get out,’ she says as she runs. Far behind us, we can hear the crews heading our way. ‘He must be injured or unconscious.’ She glances over her shoulder. ‘They won’t be here in time.’

Adrenalin pumps through me, my legs fly, my lungs open. Power surges through me, and I feel invincible.

‘Stand back,’ I order Stella as she is just about to get on the wing. ‘Let me! I know how to get the canopy open – get ready for him.’

Smoke fills my eyes and my nose, and I leap onto the wing of the aircraft, heat already singeing the hairs on my arms. Danny is slumped inside, his head lolling forwards.

I see the button he told me about, the one to trigger the release mechanism that allows the canopy to slide open, positioned underneath the external rear-view mirror.

On my first attempt, I can’t quite reach it with enough pressure to push.

On the second, it burns my palms. Then there’s a small explosive noise, hardly more than a soft pop, and suddenly, small flames appear inside the cockpit.

It’s now or never. Launching myself at the button, I manage it.

The canopy slides open halfway and then sticks – the heat must have warped it.

I don’t feel the pain anymore as I wrench it open, wide enough to reach in and release Danny’s harness.

Grabbing at his Mae West life preserver, I try with all my might to drag him from his seat, but I’m not strong enough.

The pain shocks him conscious, and he stares at me, disorientated.

‘Danny, you need to get out now or you’re going to die,’ I tell him. ‘Make your legs move. Push up, help me get you out. Now! ’

With a cry of anguish, he surges upwards.

Making use of the momentum, I drag him out of the cockpit and onto the wing, just as the rescue team is arriving.

There’s no choice but to roll him onto the ground.

He screams as he lands. At least he’s alive.

Frantically, Stella and I pull him across the dirt as far away from the plane as we can get him. Dark blood trails behind him.

‘Save his life,’ I tell Stella, looking up at the sky for any sign of the returning enemy planes. ‘You make sure you save his life.’

‘I will,’ Stella promises.

The Spit catches fire then, and the ground crew tries desperately to put it out with what foam they have left after the oil fire.

‘I need my bag,’ Stella says as she examines Danny. ‘You stay with him. I’ll get it.’

‘No! He needs you. I’ll get it. You save his life.’

As I run towards where Stella left her bag, I can’t hear anything approaching from the sky.

Fights are continuing up there, but night is falling in earnest now, and soon pilots on both sides will head home.

The first convoy of ships will be heading into the harbour, and before long, the island will wake up on the feast day of Santa Marija to the news that the siege is broken – that they have turned the tide against the Nazis, even though they themselves don’t know it yet.

All that races through my head as I hurry towards Stella’s bag, grabbing it in a single swoop and heading back.

Perhaps the last awful attack won’t come now.

Perhaps I have altered time just enough to stop that pilot turning back and deciding to finish off the job with one more pointlessly malicious attack.

I’m bearing down on them when I hear it.

The sound of the Messerschmitt screaming towards us seems to come out of nowhere, the open fire of its machine guns heading in a direct line to Stella and Danny with deadly accuracy.

I throw the bag at Stella, then fling myself over them. I shield them both with my body.

I don’t feel any pain.

Just the curious push and pull of the bullets tearing through me. The sensation of bones shattering, the gush and flow of hot blood.

The sound of the plane’s engines grows fainter. Mission complete.

I can’t hear what Stella is saying as she gently moves my body off hers. I can only see that her lips are moving. Her expression is stricken as she takes in my damage. I see her mouth my name over and over again; tears track paths through the grime and smoke that silt her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ I try to tell her. I’m sorry.

My hand reaches for Danny; his face turns to me. I feel the grip of his fingers as if mine hardly belong to me anymore.

‘You save him,’ I say to Stella. Even though all I can hear is the sound of ringing in my ears. I feel the words move in my mouth. ‘You swear you’ll save him.’

Stella nods.

‘Maia.’ When Danny says my name, I hear it in my heart. Our eyes meet. We tell each other a thousand sweet everythings in that one look. ‘Hold on. You hold on, you hear me? Don’t you die on me, Maia Borg. You promised you wouldn’t.’

Tears track down my face. I shake my head.

‘I’ll see you again one day,’ I whisper. ‘Just you wait and see.’

The sky overhead turns from velvet blue to dark, dark night. I see the first stars shining, and somehow, I know they are the very first stars that ever set the universe alight.

I’m going home at last.