Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2, Fenella Miller [best pdf ebook reader for android TXT] 📗

Today she wasn’t wearing her usual baggy dungarees but a floral, cotton dress that she didn’t hate as much as the other garments Mum had bought her.

Cycling in a frock wasn’t as easy as dungarees but fortunately her knickers remained unseen and she met no one on her journey. She pedalled up the track, her skirt blowing wildly over her knees, eager to find something useful to do for the remainder of the day.

*

Jack was in the cockpit of the new plane checking the compass was still okay when a flash of something blue caught his eye. What he’d seen had been Ellie’s skirt flapping about – and that wasn’t all he could see even from this distance.

Holy cow! That girl certainly had great pins and he could see all the way up to her panties. He bet she didn’t know she was showing everyone her underwear. He’d never seen her out of scruffy dungarees – she was more of a tomboy than a classy bird and until now he’d not thought her worth a second glance.

He waited until she chucked her bike in its usual place against the wall of the office before letting her know where he was and what he’d seen. ‘You’d be better off in slacks if you’re going to peddle about the countryside, Ellie.’

She spun round and stared at him.

He began his leisurely descent from the de Havilland before continuing. ‘Pink’s a great colour on you.’

For a moment she looked puzzled and glanced down at her dress. Then she turned scarlet as she realised he was referring to her knickers. Immediately he regretted his teasing – she wasn’t much more than a kid really – and he was old enough and ugly enough to know better.

‘Sorry, shouldn’t have said that. It was in poor taste. I hope you’ve come to man the telephone as I don’t think you’re dressed to do anything else safely.’

‘I have. I don’t want paying – I just want something to keep me occupied. The house is in pandemonium. Would you believe that Mum has had a marquee put up? It’s to be "an alfresco party". That’s all very well if it stays fine, but what about if it rains?’

He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a brotherly hug. She flinched at his touch. He reckoned there wasn’t much hugging done in the Simpson house. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Don’t often get the chance to mix with the upper echelons of society. I hope they don’t think I’m your butler.’

‘Not a chance. According to my mum a butler’s usually grander than the people he works for. You’d only have to open your mouth and everyone would know.’ She grinned up at him, more relaxed now. ‘You’ve got a very strange accent – part East End, part posh and something else I don’t recognise.’

‘I’ve been living in the States for the past few years but grew up in the East End.’

‘Yes, that’s it. You sound a bit American sometimes. By the way, try and avoid using bad language tonight as it wouldn’t go down very well with the snobby lot who are coming.’

He wasn’t sure if he was offended or amused by her comment. ‘I’ll do my best, ma’am, but we common boys can’t be relied on.’

The strident sound of the telephone ringing interrupted their conversation. ‘I’ll answer that. You get on with whatever you are going to do and I’ll take care of the office for the rest of the day.’

Her bossy attitude was irritating but he supposed having been more or less in charge of the place the past year it was hardly surprising.

The day was made easier having Ellie in the office. Sid, like her, seemed to prefer to be at work than at home. She emerged from the office. The sound of a motorbike approaching meant his next pupil was here. This bloke had clocked up enough hours to be going solo but, according to the notes, steadfastly refused to do so.

‘I’m going now, Mum just rang and demanded that I come home. I’ll see you later.’ She collected her bike but then hesitated before getting on. She was worried about showing her knickers not only to him but also to the man who’d come for his lesson.

He came to her rescue. ‘Right, Mr Jenkins, shall we get on with it?’ He gestured towards the cockpit and immediately his pupil began to climb in the front seat. Jack kept his back firmly towards the girl and heard her cycle away at high speed. He was tempted to look round, but he’d embarrassed her enough today already.

After an uneventful and boring lesson, he signed the log book and was about to make an appointment for the next lesson. ‘You’ll be going solo next time; you are more than ready for it. The government wants as many civilians with their A licences as possible in case there’s a war.’

‘Good heavens, young man, there won’t be any hostilities. And even if I’m wrong, which I rarely am, I certainly won’t be joining the RAF so I can’t think it matters if I’m qualified or not. I’m not ready to go up on my own. I’m the best judge of my abilities and I expect you to respect my opinion.’

‘If you say so, sir. Just let us know when you want to go solo.’

The man was the last person you’d expect to ride a motorbike, he was more a sedan sort of bloke. Sid had already gone. All Jack had to do was taxi the Swallow into the hangar and then he could go. Ellie had locked the office and left the keys on the box where he could see them.

If he was going to arrive on time he’d better get a shifty on. His landlady had agreed he could have his weekly bath this evening and he wanted the water to be hot. He found the primitive arrangement of a galvanised tin bath