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

Grand houses often had several bathrooms, and radiators in each room to keep them warm, but her grandfather hadn’t gone as far as that with Glebe Farm. In the winter they froze in their bedrooms like everyone else in the village. Fires were only allowed upstairs if someone was ill.

She carried the tray into her room and put her cocoa down. She didn’t want any biscuits; he could have all those. The letters and photographs she’d dumped on her bed could be looked at later.

There was a light coming from under Jack’s door so she knew he was awake.

*

Jack heard Ellie go past and was going to call out but didn’t want to disturb Mr Simpson. Then she tapped softly and he invited her in.

‘I’ve brought you some cocoa and biscuits. You don’t have to have them if you don’t want to.’

‘Thanks, it seems a long time since supper. I need to talk to you about the envelope. Why don’t you bring your drink in here?’

‘No, I won’t do that as I can’t stay long, Dad’s a light sleeper and wouldn’t approve of me being in here with you so late.’

She put the tray on the bedside table and then moved to stand at the end of the bed. The door was still ajar. He couldn’t risk what he was going to say being overheard.

‘Close the door.’

She stiffened at his abrupt command and didn’t move.

‘Please, Ellie, when you read it you’ll realise why your father mustn’t know.’

Once the door was safely shut he handed her the sheet of paper; although he had read it several times he still had difficulty comprehending the contents.

He watched her read it and saw her expression change from interest to horror. ‘This is so much worse than gangsters or robberies. Why would Joe have the names and signatures of the people who have joined Sir Oswald Mosley’s fascist party? I can’t believe he’s a fascist.’

‘Look at it again, Ellie. Don’t you recognise some of those traitors? Can you imagine what would happen if this list became public? For Christ’s sake, some of them are politicians, members of the aristocracy, important people in this country. I don’t know how my uncle got hold of this, but you can be damned sure he’s been using the information to fund his other business ventures.’

She looked at the paper more closely. ‘This has been cut from a ledger. I think it comes from their membership book. Thank goodness we didn’t put an advert in a newspaper. What are you going to do with it? I wish you hadn’t opened the envelope or let me read it.’

Before he could answer the door opened and her father appeared, looking none too pleased, in his pyjamas. Ellie was holding the page and didn’t have time to hide it.

‘Secret meetings? What’s that you got there, my girl? I’ll read that if you don’t mind.’

‘Don’t, Mr Simpson. You don’t want to know the contents. It’s a list of traitors. It’s why I was shot.’

‘If my daughter has read it then she’s in danger. What were you thinking of, letting her get involved? What you going to do with it?’

‘We were just talking about that when you came in. I think we must send it anonymously to Scotland Yard.’

‘Can I have a look? Bit late to worry about anyone else knowing.’ He didn’t wait for permission but removed the paper from Ellie’s fingers. He nodded as if unsurprised at what he saw. ‘You can’t do that, Jack, Ellie’s grandfather is on here.’

‘Did you already know about this?’ Jack wished he was strong enough to take charge of the situation but he wasn’t feeling great.

Ellie looked almost as bad. ‘Which one is he, Dad? Mum never told me her maiden name or anything about her family.’

‘Sir Reginald Humphrey. He’s an MP, rich as Croesus, and thinks of the rest of the world as cannon fodder, or peasants to do his bidding. There were a lot like him in the last war. God help us if we get the same stupid buggers in charge when this next lot kick off.’

‘Do I have cousins and uncles and aunts on that side of the family?’

‘There were two sons, but both were killed in Flanders. Your mum is the only one left and you’re that man’s only granddaughter.’ His colour had returned and he jumped to his feet. ‘I should have worked it out myself. She’s gone home – Humphrey told her if she was prepared to sever the connection to me he’d take her back.’

Ellie looked distraught. He didn’t blame her – she’d just learned her grandfather was a fascist and her mother had chosen him over her husband and children.

‘I need to think about this, Mr Simpson. We could always black out his name and then hand the list in, but there’s no guarantee they couldn’t work it out anyway.’

‘And if they did,’ she said, ‘it might well lead them to us.’ She headed for the door. ‘I found some photographs and letters which were hidden in the suitcase up there, Dad. I don’t really want to look at them anymore. I’ll give them to you.’

He followed her from the room and neither of them said good night. Whatever they thought about Sir Reginald, Ellie and her brothers were a part of his family. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to burn the wretched thing and be done with it.

She returned almost immediately. ‘I’m going to put the letter somewhere safer. Good night, see you in the morning.’

The gunman had been sent by somebody on that list and was no doubt ransacking the office at the airfield this very minute. It wouldn’t take him long to discover Ellie’s name. He could possibly find his way here sometime tonight.

Mr Simpson was a farmer – he was bound to have a shotgun somewhere on the premises.

*

Greg stayed the night in a seedy bed and breakfast in Romford,