Barbara had been on another ferrying mission on Christmas Eve, then returned to London for a few days rest during a surprising but most welcome lull in night raids. After joining a fellow volunteer flier for dinner on the 28th of December, she got a surprise message from Gail: "In London tomorrow after Pan Am flight. Have a whole day off. If you're not on duty ferrying, meet you at Savoy 6 p.m."
Their reunion in the lobby of the Savoy was unlike any they previously had had. No hugs and tears they had shared before came near their pre-New Year embrace. Over dinner in the hotel restaurant, they hardly tasted the small portions of chicken breast on their plates, they were so busy sharing news. Gail told about her trans-Atlantic flights to Lisbon, Athens, and South Africa. Barbara told about becoming rich selling her airport and "worthless" desert property, and flying bombers in England.
Then Barbara had to know: "How's my godson? How's Timmy? He must be four years old now. Did he get the Lincoln Log set I sent him for his birthday?
"He is, he did, and he's very well," Gail replied. "He keeps telling me he can't wait to see 'Auntie Barbara' again."
"Ditto!" Barbara exclaimed.
Gail smiled at hearing one of Barbara's favorite expressions she remembered first hearing when they were college girls.
"I miss Timmy terribly, but found a very good new home for him while I'm away. I've enrolled him in the boarding school at Glenview Military Academy, a boys' school near Madison, Wisconsin. It's where my father went when he was a teen. They take boys as early as kindergarten, and if the war we're going to be in soon isn't over by then, he can stay through the equivalent of high school. He tells me he just loves it there. I'll give you the address, so you can write him."
When Gail opened her purse to take out a card with the academy's address on it, she hesitated a moment, seeing something else there.
"What is it?" Barbara asked, sensing the hesitation made Gail anxious for a moment.
"Oh, just something I was going to bring up later. But I might as well ask you now..."
"Ask me what? You know I'll do anything..."
Gail nodded that she knew that. "It's just that... well, you hear the bombs falling every night. I hear them too, when I'm here between trans-Atlantic flights. And there's so much talk of war, that before long America will be in it, as I think we should be..."