ball inside. But he’d fleeced most of them at poker over the past two nights and none could be persuaded to bet money on the outcome.
‘I’ll play,’ Paul said, shaking the snow off his gloves as he came into the classroom.
Rosie clapped as she saw him and a little cheer went up from the trainees in the other groups. Luc was the only person in the room who didn’t raise a smile.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t visit,’ Rosie said, as she gave Paul a kiss on the cheek. ‘But we were training all day long and it’s not safe on the roads after dark in this weather.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Paul smiled. ‘I didn’t feel much like talking anyway. So, PT, you fancy taking me on with the cups?’
PT pocketed the table-tennis ball and shook his head. ‘I’m not playing you,’ he grinned. ‘You know how the con works.’
The Frenchmen all jeered and one of the Poles threw a piece of chalk at PT’s head.
‘Cheating dog,’ a Frenchmen shouted. ‘If I see you with that pack of cards again I’ll shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.’
‘Poker’s a game of skill,’ PT grinned. ‘You’re just a sore loser.’
One of the Norwegian women had poured two cups of tea from a big pot and brought them over for Paul and Takada.
‘Sugar?’ she asked.
Paul raised two fingers, and groaned with pain as he lowered himself into a chair. Marc came and sat next to him.
‘I feel really guilty,’ Marc admitted. ‘You wouldn’t have been up there if it wasn’t for me and now I’m the one two jumps from getting my wings.’
‘Someone would have used that parachute eventually,’ Paul said. ‘I blame the stupid cow who packed it, not you.’
Marc nodded. ‘They pulled all the chutes packed by that person and found two more that weren’t right.’
Paul shrugged. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate though.’
Everyone except Paul jumped to their feet as Sergeant Parris came in from the back of the classroom.
‘Be seated,’ Parris said, before smiling as he eyed Paul and approached his table. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Not bad,’ Paul said. ‘My knees are killing me and the cold makes it ache.’
‘Can I expect you back when you’re all fixed up?’ Parris asked.
Paul smiled. ‘Definitely, sir, if they let me.’
‘That’s the kind of attitude I like to see,’ Parris said, addressing the whole room as he walked to the blackboard up front. ‘As you all know, you’re going to make two jumps today. The first will be a standard jump with an equipment pack strapped to your legs. The second jump will be a simulated night jump. You’ll wear a dark visor and must land within a target area roughly the size of a football pitch using the steering techniques you learned in ground training yesterday.
‘Each jump will be closely watched from the back of the Wellington. Steering and landing skills will be graded by instructors watching through binoculars on the ground. Each jump will be graded pass or fail on fifteen separate points, ranging from your hook-up and exit speed through to a controlled landing and gathering your chute. To earn your wings, you’ll need twenty-four points over the two jumps. Any final questions?’
Rosie raised her hand. ‘Sir, is there a second run if we fail?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Parris said. ‘You score twenty-four marks or come back here and repeat the entire week. Now grab your chutes and get out there. The plane leaves in seven minutes, whether you’re onboard or not. Dismissed.’
Paul levered himself up using a table as the trainees grabbed their chutes from a wooden rack by the door and charged outside into the snow. Of the twenty-four who’d started the course four hadn’t made it: Paul with his hard landing, the Norwegian who’d broken her leg and two of the Frenchmen who’d been kicked out for repeatedly failing written exams.
‘Fancy coming up for a ride, son?’ Parris asked Paul, as he headed towards the door.
Paul shook his head. ‘Thanks for the offer, sir, but it’d take me more than seven minutes just to make it up the ladder into the plane.’
‘Fair enough,’ Parris smiled, before passing out through the door and yelling at the trainees. ‘Move, you sorry buggers, before you feel my size-tens up your jacksies.’
*
Paul watched the Wellington bomber shrink to a black dot before taking a treacherous walk along the icy footpath to the accommodation hut.
Paul wanted to draw, but he’d expected to be busy all week and had used his small supply of paper at the