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

Seven

‘Ellie, you look quite stunning. I hope you don’t mind me gate-crashing but I wanted to see you again.’

‘Thank you for saying so and thank you for coming. Let me find you a drink. Most people have gone to the marquee as supper is being served.’ She pointed to the bar which was now fairly quiet. ‘You look very dashing too. I thought service men had to stay in their uniforms even when they went off base.’

‘I’ve just completed my orientation and expect to be going to join 107 squadron at Wattisham soon. As I’m not officially attached at the moment I can do as I damn well please.’

‘How exciting, Neil is going to be based at Gravesend – he’s going to be a Spitfire pilot. What will you be flying?’

‘A Blenheim 1f. Now, that’s quite enough talk about me. What have you been doing for the past couple of weeks?’

He didn’t go for the beer but had a glass of bubbly and she had another lemonade. He was almost as easy to talk to as Jack and they found themselves a quiet corner and chatted about everything from the latest film showing in Romford to what they had both been reading.

‘We had better go and get something to eat before it’s all gone.’ Ellie put her arm through his and they headed to the marquee. Although it was finger food the guests had still sat down to eat. There were no places left at any of the tables.

‘Never mind, I can go to the kitchen and get something for both of us. Why don’t you go back to the bar and bring us a couple of drinks – at least there are some chairs in there.’ She left him replenishing his glass and promised she wouldn’t be long.

After almost twisting her ankle on the way she removed her shoes and chucked them onto the stairs as she went in. This meant the hem of her dress would trail in the dirt but better that than breaking her neck so she’d better nip upstairs and find herself something else to wear. After rummaging for several minutes in the bottom of a wardrobe she found some plimsolls and pushed her bare feet into them. Hardly glamorous, but they were far more comfortable.

There was no one in the kitchen but there still seemed to be plenty of food waiting to go out. She snatched a plate from the dresser and filled it with a random selection of items. If Greg was anything like her brothers he didn’t care what he ate as long as there was plenty of it.

It was just as quick to return to the barn via the back door and she was less likely to be seen shoeless by the other guests. Greg must be wondering what had kept her as she’d been gone far longer than she’d anticipated.

With a handful of her skirt in one hand and the piled plate in the other she stepped out into the darkness. It took a moment for her vision to adjust and whilst she was stationary someone approached.

‘I thought you’d gone to bed, Ellie, but I’m glad you didn’t. Were you coming to find me with that?’ Jack strolled into view.

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she couldn’t think of a sensible reply. Whatever she said, whatever she did, someone was going to be cross with her. Then the matter was taken out of her hands as Greg appeared from the direction of the bar.

‘There you are, I was beginning to think you’d abandoned me,’ he said. He ignored Jack, which was a mistake.

‘Who the hell are you? I thought you had better taste, Ellie, and didn’t go for the posh boys.’ Jack was now standing beside her giving quite the wrong impression.

Greg seemed to grow several inches and changed from a charming, friendly man into someone quite formidable. ‘Greg Dunlop, friend of the family. Ellie is with me.’

The two men stared at each other. They were of similar size and if Jack decided he wanted to fight it could go either way. She refused to be squabbled over like two dogs with one bone.

‘I’m not with anyone.’ She shoved the laden plate towards Greg. ‘Here you are. Why don’t you share it with Jack as I’m going to bed.’

He had to take it or it would have dropped to the floor. She hurried inside leaving the two of them to sort it out for themselves. She was sorry Jack had intervened as she’d been enjoying her chat with Greg. Men didn’t seem to grow up as girls did – they still behaved like children in the playground. A woman wouldn’t fight over a man, she’d have too much sense.

Maybe she would see Greg again as he was going to be stationed fairly close and whilst the fragile truce held he wouldn’t have much to do. The fighter planes often flew over the farm practising their dogfights but bombers could hardly practice dropping bombs. She wasn’t sure if the aircrew of these bigger aircraft were sent on imaginary missions – but she’d certainly never seen any in the sky over Romford.

On her way through the deserted kitchen she helped herself to a second plate. What she really wanted was a cuppa, but she didn’t think it wise to dawdle in the kitchen just in case Jack or Greg came to find her. Going to work on Monday was going to be interesting.

*

Jack turned to watch Ellie disappear. ‘Well that’s us told. Did you notice she’s got canvas shoes on?’ His flash of anger had been ridiculous and unnecessary. He held out his hand with a friendly smile. ‘Jack Reynolds, I own the aero club where she works. I’ve had too much drink and apologise for my behaviour.’

The other bloke carefully put the plate of food into his left hand so he could offer his right. ‘Pleased