by Lou Kuenzler
“Poor Uncle Peter,” she whispered.
“Shall we get out of here?” suggested Gus. “We could go down to the railway.”
“All right,” she agreed, feeling her way towards the back door.
Perhaps they’d be in time to see the Dark Demon hurtling past again. But as they stepped on to the porch, Edie saw that they were probably too late. The first light of dawn was already tinting the sky, turning it from deep soot black to swirling grey. It was raining too, and the wind she’d heard at the blacked-out windows was stronger than she’d thought, whipping round the side of the house in a blustery summer squall.
She felt a sudden twist of panic – would Fliss still fly in this weather? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her. But, more than anything, she didn’t want her taking risks.
“Should we go back?” Gus whispered, holding his palm out beyond the porch to feel the rain.
“No. Let’s keep going.” She stamped her feet into her wellington boots. “It’s only drizzling really.” It wasn’t true, but she felt better as soon as she said it. The ATA wouldn’t stop flying just because of a bit of rain, even if it was quite heavy. This was England. They’d never get anything done if they were afraid of getting wet. “We could borrow those,” she said, pointing to a couple of dusty old mackintoshes hanging in the porch.
“Good idea!” Gus took a long black one, which probably belonged to Uncle Peter. Hers was dark green or navy, she couldn’t quite tell in the half-light, but it smelt of dust and wax and, very faintly, of Aunt Roberta – not Chanel perfume like Fliss, but dried lavender.
“Come on.” They began to run towards the railway line, the wind buffeting against them. The coat was far too big for Edie, but she was glad of it, and she turned the collar up against the rain. She was pleased she had put her wellies on too. The grass in the meadow had grown long in the last few sunny weeks and it was soaking wet around the hem of her nightdress.
As soon as they were far enough away from the house not to see it behind them in the gloom, Edie slowed down. It was easier to walk than to run on the soggy ground, especially with the wind in her face.
After a few more paces, she stopped completely. The rain was pelting down now. She threw her head back and let it fall on her cheeks.
“Sure you don’t want to go back?” said Gus.
“No point.” Edie laughed. “We’re soaking wet already!” She opened her mouth and tried to catch the raindrops. As she stood there, she thought she heard a sound. Not just the wind but a low, buzzing drone.
“Listen.” She caught hold of Gus’s arm. “Can you hear it?”
Gus cocked his head.
“I think it’s a plane,” he said, tilting his face towards the sky. He held his hand up to protect his eyes from the rain.
“Can you see anything?” asked Edie. All she could make out in the dim light were heavy clouds. The rain was driving down in spears. Even so, she felt a rush of excitement. Perhaps Fliss was flying over already. Belinda Barton-Withers had said the women delivering planes were often up at the crack of dawn.
She ran forward, stumbling towards the higher ground. “We’ll get a better view up here,” she called over her shoulder to Gus. She slipped on the soggy slope, her hands plunging into muddy soil. As she stood up, she saw a flash of bright light on the horizon and heard a great boom of thunder.
“It’s a storm,” cried Gus. And he opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to say something, but Edie couldn’t hear his words. There was another crack of lightning and the air was filled with a great booming roar – not thunder this time, but the unmistakable whir of a plane’s engine almost on top of them.
A dark shadow burst out of the clouds, and a huge bomber loomed above, like a giant iron bird.
“It’s so low,” cried Edie, as it spluttered over their heads. Was this Fliss, swooping down for her beat-up?
“Too low!” yelled Gus.
There was a blaze of orange light in the grey sky. Edie shielded her eyes, thinking for a moment that it was another flash of lightning streaking across the sky. Then she realized the light was coming from the plane. It was on fire.
“No!” cried Edie. She clutched her stomach.
“It’s been hit,” yelled Gus. “It’s going to crash.” There was a terrible booming sound and he pushed Edie to the ground.
She hurled him aside and staggered to her feet.
“Edie, don’t… ” Gus grabbed the hem of her coat and tried to pull her back, but she slipped her arms out of the mackintosh and wriggled free.
“Fliss,” she screamed, running forward. The stricken plane was plunging down towards the thick trees in the wood on the other side of the railway.
There was a deafening bang and a huge ball of fire filled the sky. Great plumes of dark black smoke rose into the grey cloud.
“No… ” Edie felt as if she was going to throw up. She sank down in the mud, clutching her stomach. She was soaked to the skin, her wet nightdress clinging to her.
“Edie.” Gus rushed forward and wrapped the coat around her. “It’s all right.” He shook her gently by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Edie… It’s not your mother. It can’t be. That plane wasn’t one of ours. It was German.”
“German?” It took Edie a moment to understand what he was saying.
“It was a Junkers 88,” Gus explained, in a shaky voice. “I recognized it from my aeroplane book.”
“Oh!” Edie staggered to her feet, relief washing over her. It wasn’t Fliss who had crashed… She slipped her arms back into the sleeves of the mackintosh and hugged herself tight.
“It was definitely a German Junkers,” said Gus. “Although the engine didn’t sound right. There was clearly something wrong.”
“Poor things,” whispered Edie, thinking of the crew. The plane had gone up like a fireball. They must have died for sure. She knew they were Germans and she was supposed to hate them. But she couldn’t. Not while she stared at the plumes of black smoke rising up from the wood. It could so easily have been Fliss.
“They’re the enemy,” snapped Gus. “They came here to drop bombs, remember.”
“I know,” said Edie. She was too tired and cold to argue. The storm had passed over, but it was still raining heavily.
“Go home and get dry,” said Gus. “I’m going to the woods to see where it came down.” His eyes were flashing with excitement. She should have guessed that the boy who spent half his life with his head in an aeroplane book would be desperate to see a real crashed plane – especially an enemy one.
“Wait!” said Edie. “I’m coming too.”
Gus didn’t argue. “If we cross the railway line over the bridge by the canal, we should be able to get into the woods from there,” he said.
They were running now, squelching over the soft mud.
“Gus!” Edie gasped as the railway line came into view beneath them. “Look! There’s something on the track.”
It was an enormous lump of twisted grey metal as big as a boulder.
“It’s from the plane!” Gus was already leaping over the fence and slithering down the bank beyond. “It’s a propeller and part of one of the engines,” he called as she followed him down. “It must have broken free before the crash.”
“What should we do?” said Edie.
Gus was standing on the tracks, staring at the jagged wreckage.
“Help me!” She rammed her shoulder hard against the pile of twisted metal. But it was hopeless it didn’t budge an inch. “Don’t you see?” she cried. “It’s blocking the track. If a train comes there’s going to be a terrible smash.”
Gus leapt forward and began heaving his weight against it too. But it was no good. They were like two ants trying to shift an elephant.
“Look.” Edie pointed to where the iron railway line had twisted and buckled with the force of the crash. Even if by some miracle they could move the wreckage aside, any train coming this way would still be derailed as it thundered over the br
oken tracks.
“We’ll have to go to the station and warn them,” said Gus, glancing at his watch. “Come on!” He began to run down the line in the direction of the village. “Thank goodness the Dark Demon passed by long ago.”
“Wait!” cried Edie. “What is the time, anyway?”
“About ten to six,” he called over his shoulder.
“Stop!” she cried. It wasn’t the Dark Demon with its cargo of weapons they had to worry about. She remembered the early morning train which had followed after it and the sleepy passengers they had seen with their heads resting against the windows. “You’ll never make it to the station. Not before the Dreaming Dragon is due.”
“The 6.06!” Gus spun around and started running back towards her. “You’re right, there’s no time. What should we do?”
“We’re going to have to stop the train,” said Edie.
“Stop it,” said Gus. “How?”
“I don’t know,” said Edie desperately. “But Aunt Roberta, Uncle Peter and Fliss did it years ago when some trees fell on the line. Aunt Roberta waved her petticoats at the train driver and he stopped just in time.” But her heart sank as she glanced down at what she was wearing – the dark mackintosh and her soaking-wet fawn-coloured nightdress. It was hopeless – and Gus was just as bad in his long black coat and blue pyjamas. Not a red flannel petticoat between them – nothing they could wave in front of the train to bring it to a halt.
“I reckon we’ve got about eleven minutes until the train reaches this part of the line.” Gus held up his watch for her to see.
“Then we need to think quickly,” said Edie. “We have to do something. If the train comes round that corner, it’ll be going too fast to stop. It’ll smash into the wreckage and come off the tracks. Everyone on board will be killed.”
“Not everyone, I shouldn’t think,” said Gus.
“Oh, shut up,” she screamed. Why was he always so exact? This was no time to be such a prig. Then she realized he was probably only trying to comfort her a little.
“Surely someone will come,” she said. “I know it’s still early, but somebody must have heard the plane crash.”
“I’m not sure,” said Gus. “What with the storm. And even if they do, they’ll go into the woods where they can see the smoke. That’s where the main fuselage will be.”
“Hello!” hollered Edie. “Hello.” But there was nothing. She was wasting time.
“Let’s go round the corner,” said Gus. “The more space we give the train to slow down, the better. We can try waving the mackintoshes. It the best hope we have.”
“The only hope,” said Edie. But it wasn’t much. Why would a train stop just because two children were waving their coats on the edge of the line? The driver probably wouldn’t even see them, not through the thick grey drizzle. He probably wouldn’t even see a red petticoat in this weather, even if she had been wearing one.
But as Edie turned the corner she gasped in disbelief. “Look!” A bright white sheet was hanging from the thorn trees on the bank.
“It’s as if it’s been sent by an angel,” she cried. White was about the only colour that would show up in this dreadful weather.
“It’s only a bed sheet!” said Gus. “It must have been blown off someone’s washing line in the storm.” But as Edie reached up to pull it down from the thorns, she saw that it wasn’t a sheet at all. The material was slippery in her fingers, like silk.
Gus stretched out his hand and felt it too. “It’s a parachute,” he said. “From the plane.”
Edie’s mind was whirring, but there was no time to think of anything but stopping the train.
“Have you got a knife?” she asked, tugging at the fabric with her teeth and trying to rip it.
“No,” said Gus. “I’m wearing my pyjamas, remember.”
“Try the coat,” said Edie, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her mackintosh too. But there was nothing.
Gus shook his head. “Empty.”
The parachute was huge. “We have to tear it into strips somehow,” said Edie. “Or we won’t be able to wave it.” She tried desperately to rip it against a sharp thorn poking out of the tree, but it was no good. All she did was prick her fingers.
“I’ve got a better idea!” said Gus. He started pulling the parachute free from the trees and dragging it back along the line. “We can use the jagged metal on the wreckage,” he panted. “We can cut it on that.”
“There isn’t time,” said Edie, but she started dragging the parachute too. There was nothing else for it.
Gus was right. As they snagged the fabric back and forward across the sharp edges of the wreck, it frayed and tore. Soon Edie was able to rip it into rough untidy squares. Although her fingers were shaking, it felt good to be doing something useful – just like getting ready for the air-raid warnings in London. At least they had a plan. It helped to still her panic just a bit.
“Run,” she said, gathering bundles of white material in her arms. There were only minutes left but it was no good unless they were round the corner, on the long straight stretch where the train could see them and had time to stop. Gus sprinted off but, in her haste, Edie dropped half her pieces of fabric and turned back to pick them up. She crouched down, gathering them into her arms.
As she straightened up again, she screamed. A pale figure was standing over her in the drizzle.
For a moment she thought it was Perky’s ghostly signalman – except this figure still had his head. He was wearing a flying helmet and a boiler suit.
“Schnell,” he said. “Schnell, bitte!”
“German,” gasped Edie. “Of course.” He was from the plane. He must have used the parachute to bail out before the crash. She wanted to run, but all she could do was stand frozen on the spot as the airman stretched out his hands towards her. She flinched, sure that he was going to hurt her. But he tried to grab the squares of material from her instead.
“Thief!” cried Edie. “Get off.” She stamped on his toes, her arms flailing wildly with panic. Perhaps he wanted to surrender, and needed to wave a white flag. But he couldn’t take the strips of material from her. Not now. She needed them to stop the train. She struggled and pulled against him like a tug of war.
After only a second or two the airman let go and scrambled up the bank above her.
“Gus!” she yelled. “Help.” Gus came running back along the track.
“He’s German,” cried Edie, pointing to the airman. “What do we do? He’s getting away.” She was sure they ought to try and take him prisoner, but there was no time.
“We have to save the train,” said Gus desperately. “There’s less than five minutes.”
He was right. She thought she could hear a distant rumble chugging towards them already.
She glanced up at the bank. “Oh, no!” The airman wasn’t running away at all. He had pulled a young tree up by the roots and he was swinging it above his head like a cudgel. “He’s going to attack us,” she cried.
“Nimm den,” he bellowed. “Eine Flagge!”
Gus scrambled up the bank and grabbed a stick of his own.
“Don’t!” screamed Edie. “For goodness’ sake, Gus. Don’t fight him. He’ll kill you.”
But the airman didn’t hit Gus with the young tree. Instead, he threw it down the bank and began pulling others from the ground.
“Flagpoles!” shouted Gus and at last Edie understood.
Gus tossed her a long thin stick and she tied two corners of one of the ragged squares of parachute to it, then she dug it into the wet ground like a flag at the side of the tracks.
Gus did the same. All the while, the German airman was helping them.
At last, there was a line of wobbly flags along both sides of track. Edie and Gus still had one each. The airman took a flag too.
Edie smiled at him, wishing she had the words to thank him for everything he had done.
“Ready?” Gus leapt across to the far side of the track.
“
Ready!” Edie’s voice was barely more than a croak. She raised her flag. The chug of the train was louder now and she could see the smoke above the trees. She felt sick to her stomach. They had just one chance to stop it, or the train would smash into the wreckage on the line taking all its carriages with it and people would be killed for sure.
“Ja. Rea-dy!” said the German. And he smiled back at Edie. He had taken his flying helmet off and she could see that he was young. His blond hair was stuck to his head and streaked with rain.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And, next moment, the train thundered into view like a great dragon billowing smoke.
“Stop!” Edie began to wave her flag and yell. “Stop!” she cried, leaping up and down. “Stop the train!”
Chapter Fourteen
“Our Duty In A Time Of War”
The train kept coming, roaring along the line towards them.
“Stop!” cried Edie. Her ears were pounding and her nose and throat were full of the sooty smell of smoke. “Stop! Oh, please stop!” Her voice was drowned out by the rattle and roar of the engine. She leant forward, right over the edge of the tracks, and waved her flag frantically in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the German airman waving too.
“It’s no good,” she cried, and without even thinking, she grabbed his arm. “It’s no good at all.” If the train crashed, hundreds of people might be killed, it was travelling so fast. Pictures flashed through her mind of all the awful things she’d seen in London – bombed buildings, injured people, the broken shell of the Café de Paris. She couldn’t bear for something terrible to happen here too – not when she’d felt so safe at Three Chimneys. She had to stop that train!
Edie sprang forward, leaping over the wet rails and stood in the middle of the track itself, waving her flag more frantically than ever.
“Vorsicht!” cried the German, panic rising in his voice.
“Get back!” roared Gus from the other side. Edie knew she should listen. She knew it was dangerous and stupid to stand on the line, especially with the train hurtling towards her. But she had to make it stop.
