Previously: "She is dirty and she stinks" Mary sounded shocked.

"Babies get that way sometimes. I'm sure between you and Mrs. Mullen you can get her cleaned up for the flight" He put his arm around Mary and steered her towards the door. "Come my two Crawley ladies, let's go home."

Saturday, October 2, 1920

Over the Irish Sea

Mary was grateful for two features of the alterations to her flight suit, both suggested by Mrs. Hughes. One was to reconfigure the sleeves so she could wriggle her arms out and wrap them around Sybil while she was strapped to Mary's chest. The other was to tailor the top of the front so it opened left to right. This allowed her to open it and bend forward so her face was inside the pouch. She could then speak to Sybil.

It had taken Sybil a long time to settle down.

Matthew and Mary had gone from the tea shop straight to the Mullen's residence at the aerodrome. Matthew had pushed Mary to change Sybil as fast as possible as they were already late. With the encouragement of Mrs. Mullen Mary put an end to that. She and Matthew ended up nose to nose, Matthew arguing that if they did not leave soon they wouldn't make it back to Downton in daylight and Mary arguing just as forcefully that Sybil wasn't going anywhere until she had been changed, bathed and fed and gotten used to Mary. The two stared at each other for a moment and then the argument abruptly ended with Matthew leaving to telephone Holyhead to arrange an overnight stay there if need be.

Mrs. Mullen congratulated Mary but also cautioned her:"Pick your battles, he knew you were right; I'm impressed he didn't keep on arguing. Men do that you know even when they know they're in the wrong." She smiled at Mary "He's a keeper. Now let's get your little girl cleaned up".

By 'let's' Mrs. Mullen meant she would walk Mary through the process and she did. Sybil was apprehensive and Mary was tentative but they gradually warmed up to one another. Mary got Sybil bathed, in the process getting soaked. Luckily she had brought a change of clothes for herself. She then changed Sybil into some clean clothes Mrs. Mullen provided, the ones in the flour sack being badly in need of a session at a laundry, and finally fed. Throughout Sybil did not say a word; she did not cry; she just whimpered a bit and stared at Mary.

Sybil did not take well to being tied to Mary. She seemed to consider it an affront to her dignity and expressed herself with much waving of the arms and kicking of the feet. Mary was sure she had a perimeter of bruises about her body from all the baby blows. Then there was the matter of getting into the Sidcot suit. She couldn't with Sybil tied to her so they had to untie Sybil and do it all over once Mary had the suit on up to her waist. And then with the suit fully done up Mary found out that she was so constricted and over balanced she could not walk. She could barely waddle. So Matthew had to carry her to the aeroplane and plunk her down in the observer's seat. And throughout he said not a word. Discretion being the better part of 'just one word mister, just one word..."

Once they were safely in the air Mary wriggled her arms out of the sleeves and rubbed Sybil's back. She ducked her head down into the pouch and started telling Sybil all about her mother growing up at Downton Abbey. Mary thought Sybil had fallen asleep but the little girl whimpered whenever she quit talking so she kept on.

-0-

Matthew was perturbed that Mary had dawdled so long with Sybil. Change her certainly. Sure feed her. But bathe her? What difference would it make if she were dirty for another three or four hours? And why did she need time to get acquainted with the babe? They were going to be strapped to each other for three or four hours; spend that much time chest to chest with someone and you might get over acquainted.

He had tried to tell Mary that the sun waited for no one; that the aeroplane did not have headlamps; that there were no beacons at Downton; but she waved off the need to get going as a mere bagatelle. It was finally Mrs. Mullen, seeing Matthew's agitation, who chivvied Mary along.

It was two in the afternoon before the aeroplane was in the air.

Once they were on their way and he had cooled down Matthew realized they should have stayed in Ireland. Sunset at Downton was at about 6:40 p.m. It was going to be touch and go whether they made it. Well, he would reconsider continuing on when he got to Holyhead.

-0-

Although it was unlikely that a flight of Fokkers were going to come diving out of the sun Matthew kept up his habit of scanning the sky. Ahead, left, up, back. Seeing a headless Mary with her empty sleeves flopping in the slipstream and laughing at that, he wished he could take a photograph. Look right, down and forward again. Repeat.

They were about twenty miles out of Holyhead when Matthew's scan did turn up an enemy.

Fog.

Fog where there should be no fog. The day was sunny. It was cool, there had been no temperature change. There was a nice steady north wind. There shouldn't be fog. Where was it coming from? Everywhere. All around him. Thick in front. He considered turning around and heading back to Baldonnel. But when he looked behind him the fog was thicker there. He tried changing altitude to no avail. There was fog everywhere. There was no point in turning back.

He considered his options. There were few. He had fuel for another 300 miles. As far as he could remember the highest mountain in Wales was about 3,600 feet high. At their current altitude of 5,000 feet they didn't have to worry about hitting one. Just keep heading east and hope they'd leave the fog when they got into the interior. Find a likely place to land, ideally before they were over the North Sea. He sighed. It was worth a shot. Thankfully Buggy had installed the most modern instruments available. The artificial horizon was a godsend. He flew on into the all encompassing white.

Ten minutes on and according to his calculations he should be crossing the coast. No hope of finding ... wait. What was that? A flashing light to his left. The South Stack lighthouse. Matthew reviewed the map in his head. The aerodrome was to the south, south west. He looked to his right. There were two faint lights, one green and the other red both strobing in the distance. He smiled. A beacon. He gently banked to the right. There would be welshcakes for tea yet.