"Robertson-WendyDarling" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

R. GARCIA Y ROBERTSON

WENDY DARLING, RFC

THE INFANTS' CLASS

It was amazing because it was so beautiful, little silver specks far up in
heaven . . .

--New York Times, 14 June 1917

WENDY FIRST SAW THE WONG-wongs from her old nursery window. She had the
afternoon session, so she was lunching with Mother in the garden, demolishing
cucumber sandwiches -- when she heard the drone of engines, growing louder,
filling the summer sky.

"Aeroplanes, Mum." She set down a half-eaten sandwich and dashed into the house,
taking steps two at a time.

The tiny square of blue above the garden was hopeless for aircraft spotting, but
the nursery was three floors up. As a girl Wendy had flown about it in her
nightshirt; now it was littered with back numbers of Flight and Aero. A Montaul
poster advertised the Grande Semaine d'Aviation held at Rheims before the War --
a woman in bold print colors waved at aeroplanes and balloons rising on the red
dawn wind. The window opposite was always left open for Peter. Wendy flung it
wide.

Roofs and chimneys poked into endless sky. From the direction of Woolwich came
the double throb of inline engines working in pairs -- the Wong-wong that gave
Gothas their nickname. She slung a foot over the sill, held tight to the sash
and leaned out. Pavement lay in wait thirty feet below.

"Watch yourself," Mother warned.

"Tosh, Mum, don't be a snooze." At twenty-two, working as a war-time temp, Wendy
was no longer practiced at climbing rooftops. She no longer believed pixie dust
and lovely thoughts would keep her aloft. But this was the window Peter had
flown through. She never expected to fall from it. If she did, Peter was bound
to be there to catch her-- or so she supposed. Leaning farther out, she saw
little silver specks in diamond formation, three miles above the Royal Albert
Docks. As they got closer she counted seventeen, coming up the Thames in a slow
stately progress over the heart of the city.

People peered out windows or stared up from the street. A woman shouted, "Hun
bombers."

Neighbors scoffed. "Not 'ere. Not over London."