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

They shook hands and Jack liked the guy despite the fact that he belonged to a social class he despised. ‘I remember now; I didn’t recognise you out of uniform.’ He gestured towards the plate. ‘Seems a pity to waste all that food. I could do with another beer – shall we share this at the bar?’

They polished off the plate in double quick time but Jack was still hungry. ‘That hardly touched the sides – I’m not a fan of this sort of thing. Can’t see the point myself. What’s wrong with a normal sandwich?’

‘Nothing at all, in my opinion. Can you get me a beer this time? I’ll run a sortie to the kitchen and find us something else to eat.’

The bar was a bit busier now as people finished their fancy supper and came in search of something to wet their whistle. Although he’d made an effort to mingle, and those he’d spoken to had been scrupulously polite, the fact that he was the only one in a lounge suit made him feel uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have come to this sort of shindig, it wasn’t his cup of tea.

The barman served him first which didn’t go down well with the toffee-nosed lot waiting politely in a queue, but he ignored the dirty looks and took the two pints back to the chairs he and Greg had commandeered. These were positioned just outside the barn, up against the wall, and fortunately nobody else had pinched them.

He carefully put the second brimming glass under a chair and then sat down nursing his own beer. He shouldn’t really have any more as he was already half-pissed and soon he wouldn’t be safe to drive himself home. If he ate some more of the fancy food, that should soak up some of the alcohol.

He ought to have recognised Greg even though he was dressed like a penguin – but then he’d been more concerned with Ellie’s behaviour than the other pilot. Anyway, one bloke in RAF uniform looked very like another to him. Maybe when he eventually joined up he’d become less noticeable but he doubted it – conker-coloured hair made him easily recognisable.

‘Here we are; I think I did better than you, old chap. Got a plateful for each of us this time.’ Greg handed one over and then took the other chair. He didn’t ask where his drink was, just groped between his legs and emerged triumphantly with his pint.

They munched and slurped happily and there was no need for conversation, which was a good thing as he didn’t have much to say. He didn’t make small talk and the less he heard about the approaching war the better. There were no lanterns this side of the barn and he couldn’t see the face of the guy beside him. He was jolted out of his alcoholic doze when Greg spoke.

‘I have to ask, are you interested in Ellie?’

‘Bloody hell! Not at all – not my type. You go ahead, mate, if you fancy her. I’ll not tread on your toes.’

‘Really? I thought you seemed a bit proprietorial earlier.’

‘I apologised for that. She’s like a kid sister to me so I’m going to keep an eye on her, aren’t I? Just make sure you don’t take advantage. She’s had no experience with men.’

‘My intentions are strictly honourable.’ The chair scraped against the wall as he stood up. ‘I’d better go and say hello to Mrs Simpson. You staying here or coming with me?’

‘I’m going home when I finish this beer. I’ve got to be at the airfield first thing – got a couple of new pupils coming to see if they want to learn to fly.’

He wandered off leaving Jack to think about the brief conversation. Strictly honourable? This meant Greg was already considering marrying Ellie if she’d have him. Seemed daft to him to be making such an important decision after just two meetings.

He pushed himself to his feet and was shocked how much his head spun. He shouldn’t have had that last pint, it had pushed him over the edge. His landlady would take a dim view if he turned up on the doorstep in this condition so he’d better spend the night at the airfield.

There was an old rug in the back of the car which would do to sleep on. The night was warm so he wouldn’t need a blanket over him. He’d shaved just before he came out so wouldn’t look too rough in the morning. With luck there would still be milk to go in his tea and hopefully the biscuit tin would be full as well.

He walked more or less straight to the field where the cars were parked. The lanterns bobbing about in the trees made it easy for him to find his car amongst all the others. He certainly wouldn’t fly when he was pissed but he reckoned he was perfectly safe to drive his car down a deserted track without coming to grief.

His headlights lit up the airfield like searchlights. There was a flicker of movement in the office. Some bugger was after the petty cash tin. He put his foot down and skidded to a halt inches from the door. Whoever was in there couldn’t escape without going past him, and even drunk he was a match for most men.

*

Ellie was up early and decided she’d much rather work for free at the airfield than for free at home. Dad was on the farm somewhere hiding from Mum who was on the war path because he’d not lived up to her exacting standards last night. She had heard them rowing late into the night. Mum didn’t do anything as common as shouting but her voice had carried through the walls. Dad had retired long before the party was over so Mum must have barged into his room to harangue him. He wouldn’t