The Shadow of War, Jack Murray [story books for 5 year olds TXT] 📗

time came, this version would win out over the true self.

‘Iimagine it will be hotter than England,’ said Bob, with an attempt at a smile.

Theevening was drawing to a close. Henry led the two men to the door. They weremet there by Jane once more. Offers of a lift back to their houses wererespectfully declined.

Theystepped out into the night. The chill of winter was creeping into Octoberthrough the nights. Walking down the path, Danny turned to look back atCavendish Hall. He saw Sarah at the window of the library. Danny stoppedmomentarily. Then he nodded. She waved then, moments later, she was gone.

Dannyturned to walk again but saw Bob looking at himstrangely.

‘You’re playing a dangerous game there, my lad,’ said Bob softly. For the firsttime the hunted look was no longer in Bob’s eyes. Instead, Danny saw his friendagain. Someone who cared about him, who would fight in his corner, who had hisinterests at heart.

Dannyshook his head, ‘There’s nothing going on. She’s too young.’

‘Becareful, Danny. They’re good people but they’re different.’

‘JaneCavendish was one of us,’ pointed out Danny, more defensively than he wouldhave liked.

‘JaneCavendish was the most beautiful girl in the county apparently. Still is, lookingat her tonight.’

Alongwith her daughter, thought Danny. Bob, sensing further conversation on thetopic of Sarah Cavendish would be unwelcome, wisely began to talk of othermatters.

‘Doyou want to travel down together?’ asked Bob.

‘No,Bob, I want to have another night in London. I’ll leave day after tomorrow.’

They parted atDanny’s with a handshake and a warmth that had had been missing for a number ofmonths.

 5

London,April 1941

Itwas early afternoon. Rather than go to Arthur’s house, Danny had decided tostay at the hotel on Piccadilly. He stepped into the foyer and asked for asingle room. A few minutes later he was in a small, sparsely furnished room. Itfelt like luxury to him. The bed was softer than he was used to. Initially thisfelt decadent, but he soon realised that he preferred a more spartanarrangement. He rose from the bed after a few minutes to freshen up. The water wascold against his skin and acted as a shock to his system. It woke him up afterthe early start he’d had in the morning that had begun with a lift from thefarmer, George McIver, into Lincoln.

PiccadillyCircus was anarchy in Danny’s view. So many people, the big red buses, the carsand the horns tooting at pedestrians running across the road. Danny shook hishead and laughed. It seemed another world. He looked up at the big signsadvertising Bovril, Wrigley’s and Guinness. His heart swelled in pride. Thefeeling that he had experienced back home with his family in the valleyoverlooking the village coursed through him now. His thoughts turned to SarahCavendish but, hard as he tried, he could not dismiss her image from his mind. Hisjob had become clear to him when it hadpreviously seemed abstract. He realised it was now more than a job. It was hisduty.

Witha final brush of his hair, he left the room and bounded down the threadbarestairs to the street. Danny made his way towards the Strand with the intentionof returning to Simpson’s. As he walked into the restaurant, he saw Abby. Shelooked for a moment in confusion at the smiling soldier. Then recognitiondawned on her. She smiled and walked over to him.

‘Hello,stranger.’

Dannyfollowed her to a seat near the window. The restaurant was quieter now asluncheon had finished. Danny ordered the same sandwich dish as previously. Abbymade frequent visits to him and they chatted for as long as was possible. Whenhe finished his meal and paid, he walked over to Abby who stood at the exitholding his coat.

‘Areyou still able to teach me how to dance?’

‘Yes,’smiled Abby. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Iread that Al Bowlly is playing at the Trocadero tonight in Elephant and Castle.Would you like to go there?’

‘I’dlove to. It’s quite near where I live. I can meet you there. What time?’

‘Iseight early enough?’

-

Dannyspent the next few hours walking around the city. The barrage balloons overheadblocked out what little sun there was. Thankfully, the rain held off. Theafternoon grey became a bayonet-black night. The moon was hidden beneath a darkshroud. Danny wondered if this would encourage enemy aircraft. He hadn’t seenany today. Over the last couple of months, the frequency of attacks haddecreased. The Battle of Britain long since won. He certainly hoped so.

Anhour later, Danny walked out of the tube station at Elephant and Castle. He headedout onto the street and asked directions to the Trocadero. It was still tooearly to meet Abby. There was a pub near the station. Perfect place to killtime, thought Danny. He popped in and ordered a half pint. He still wasn’t abig drinker. Quite a few of the lads in the battalion were. He avoided them. Itwas evens they would end up in a fight when they went out for a night.

Thebar was crowded, noisy and dark. There was a sense of violence about it, too.He regretted his decision to enter but he still had an hour to kill. There wereno seats, so he stayed at the bar and nursed his drink. A few people chatted tohim. Finally, he drained the rest of his drink and made for the exit.

Backoutside in the cold, he saw that there was still another forty minutes to kill.Just then, a siren began to wail. He looked up. The sky was garnished withwhite puff balls. Somewhere behind the clouds was the drone of somethingmalevolent. Danny sprinted for the tube station as people streamed out of thepub.

Ahuman flood poured down the steps of the tube station, headed for the platformsbelow. There were a few servicemen around also: Army, Navy and RAF. Dannyjoined a bunch of them on the platform.

‘Whenis the train due?’ he asked with a grin.

Thegroup laughed and opened up to let him stand with them. The RAF man answered,‘Blasted things are never on time.’ His accent was definitely not local.

‘Ihaven’t seen one of theirs in a while now,’ said Danny motioning his headupwards. ‘You blokes did a great job.’

‘Thanks,’said the airman. ‘Dick Manning,’