She missed Sandy a lot and worried about him but said she had quite a few friends. Some of the other nurses had boyfriends they hadn’t heard from. Flo got to go to dances because the nearby bases would send a bus for the nurses to come for the evening. They danced to live bands and orchestras. Sometimes entertainers put on variety shows for the troops. Jack was glad it wasn’t all work.
She had hinted that she might be moved. She couldn’t say where to or when but she had written a strange sentence or two in her last letter. He didn’t think his mother had figured out what Flo was trying to tell them.
“I’m looking forward to taking a hike with friends soon down the winding road leading from this hospital to a much smaller one. Around the bend are fields with farmers clearing crops. It’s pretty rustic but the scenery will be different.
“How did school go, Jack? Did you excel in French and English?”
“Flo knows French and English aren’t your best subjects,” Dad said after reading the letter and passing it on to him. “What’s she talking about?”
“She’s probably forgotten he’s our Math whiz kid,” said his mother. “I’m glad she’s getting out with friends her own age. Flo is better at this than I would ever be. I worry more than she does.”
Dad had leaned across the table and given her a peck on the cheek. “We all do the best we can, Ivy.”
After Jack had read the letter twice, he’d decided that Flo was being shipped out to a field hospital somewhere near the front, probably in France. He was proud of her – and a tad worried. Were field hospitals safe?
Jack’s own life had settled into a comfortable routine, revolving around his job at the base, the choir and hanging out with Trevor, Basil, Cathy, Cheese and Dexter. Wes had gone off to be a counsellor at a church camp but would be back soon. Jack missed him. Wes could be pretty serious but he was a lot of fun too.
There’d been a couple of minor accidents at the base but nothing really bad. Jack was working hard, cycling out to the airfield every morning at eight-thirty to find Harold and Angus already at work.
One morning in mid-July Jack heard a loud shout from the hangar as he pulled into the service yard. The old half-ton shot out of the hangar. Harold was driving and Angus slumped in the passenger seat. Harold spotted Jack and stopped.
“Come here, Jackie.”
Jack jumped up on the running board of the truck.
“Get in beside him and press this against his side where he’s bleeding.” Harold handed Jack a large gauze compress from the first-aid kit.
Jack opened the door and squeezed in beside Angus, whose face was white as flour. Blood oozed from his left side through the shredded fabric of his coveralls. Jack placed the compress against the spot with his left hand and managed to close the door with his right.
“Just keep it pressed down,” Harold said as he took off for the infirmary. “Might slow the bleeding.”
“What happened?” Jack switched to holding the compress with his right hand stretched across Angus’s body, trying not to touch his stomach and make things worse.
“Propeller,” Harold said. “He was supposed to have all the switches off, and –”
“They were off,” Angus said, his head still bent. “I’m sure they were.”
“I came along in time to see him give the prop a good swing and all of a sudden the engine bursts into life and the prop rips through his coveralls.”
Angus moaned.
“Hang on, man, we’re there.” Harold stopped the half-ton right in front of the doors and leaned on the horn. A startled orderly grabbed a stretcher and yelled for help. In a moment two guys sprinted to the truck as Jack and Harold helped Angus out of the cab. In another moment they had him settled on the stretcher and whisked him inside. Harold followed to explain what happened.
Jack shuddered. His hand was covered in blood and he tried to clean it off on the corner of the compress, which had fallen to the ground. He hoped Angus wasn’t cut up too badly, hoped he’d soon be out of pain. He could easily have been sliced to pieces by the propeller, but Jack didn’t think it would be that bad. Angus had still been conscious.
There had to be a better way of designing a plane. A guy shouldn’t have to spin the propeller to get it going. He thought about the diagrams of the engine and propeller he’d studied in books and tried to see them in his mind. His fingers itched to hold a pencil and paper. He was sure he could think of something. Jack needed to learn a lot more, he knew that. Maybe he could work on that at university. Maybe he could come up with a new design and no one would ever have an accident like this one again.
Finally Harold came out the front door. “He’s all right. Got some deep gashes that will need stitches and he’ll have spectacular bruises, but they don’t think there are any internal injuries. They’re going to keep him in a couple of days till he starts to mend. Then he’ll have to take it easy at home for a week or so.”
Jack heaved a sigh of relief. Angus would be okay. There wouldn’t be a new grave in the Cairn cemetery.
Chapter 15
The next Tuesday Wes and Jack tossed a baseball back and forth in front of the manse and the tidy white church. Jack told Wes what he had missed being away. He described Angus’s accident.
“Could have been you, Jack.”
“I know.” Jack caught a fastball. “I’m not going to tell Mom.”
“Meanwhile I just had to deal with homesick campers, skunks under the cabin and telling kids about God all week. That was a challenge.”
“You wouldn’t catch me doing that,” laughed Jack. “That’s your cup of tea, not mine, Reverend McLeod.”
“Hey, knock it off, you…you science freak.”
Cathy was swinging on the creaky wooden platform swing, watching for the old jalopy Trevor and Basil drove. The three teens were waiting for Ivy to open the church door. She was inside, practicing her organ pieces for the church service. Ever since Basil and Trevor had shown up, Jack’s mother had started playing more difficult music, like Bach.
Maybe she thought that if she could just get the music right, everything else would work out.
Jack shook his head, thinking of how hard it was to follow all Mom’s rules and regulations for safety and security. His dad seemed to let her orders roll over him like a rain shower. But Jack couldn’t. How was a guy supposed to grow up and spread his wings?
With a rattle and a roar, a car turned from the main street and headed up the hill. Trevor, Basil, and Buddy in the jalopy. Buddy, his head out the passenger side, started barking as the car stopped in front of the church. He leapt out and dashed up the lawn, throwing himself at Jack’s knees, panting with excitement.
“Hi, old Buddy,” Jack laughed. “Have you missed me?”
Jack visited Buddy most days during his lunch break, taking the dog a bit of meat and a slice of bread and butter and training him. Buddy knew how to sit, lie down, roll over, and shake a paw. He’d been growing like a bad weed, tripling in size in the last few weeks.
“Let’s go, folks,” Jack’s mother called from the church porch, holding the door ajar. She saw Jack with the dog and shook her head in a gesture of disbelief, as if to say what a stubborn boy she had raised, but she didn’t seem too upset, thank goodness.
Jack aimed a small grin in her direction, grabbed a rope from the back seat of the old car and tied Buddy to the fence.
>>>
The choir limbered up with scales, runs, oohs, aahs, stretches and arm waggles.
“Sit down everyone,” Ivy said. Basil and Trevor had been singing with the choir for several weeks and now everyone knew each other well.
Jack tried not to look at Cathy too often.
“I don’t blame you for admiring the scenery, Jack,” Arnie whispered. “She’s a fine looking girl.”
Jack blushed beet red. He opened his music folder and tried to concentrate. Arnie, on one side of him, smelling of aftershave, hay
and old clothes, sang a pure, sweet tenor and kept up a running commentary between verses. Trevor was on his other side, and Jack could see that he had something to tell him.
He got his chance as Ivy had the sopranos going over their part, with Cathy, who could sing any part, helping them.
“I went up today.” Trevor whispered. “At first I was so scared of my instructor, I could hardly think about flying. He’s a real stickler for procedure.”
Jack was surprised. Trevor looked fearless. “The Tiger Moth’s a pretty good crate,” he said. And before he could think it through, he spoke. “I went up three months ago,” he whispered.
Trevor looked impressed and Jack realized he couldn’t stop now. “My sister’s fiancé Sandy was a flying instructor.”
“The one that’s missing? The one your mother refers to all the time?”
Jack nodded.
“Did you like it?”
“It was swell. Sandy and I were up there most of the day.”
“Tenors, could we have a little less chatter and a little more attention to the music,” Ivy said. “From the beginning, please. Everyone.”
Trevor was staring at Jack, really curious. Jack put his finger to his lips. He opened the music again and brought his eyes up to watch his mother as she played the accompaniment.
At tea break halfway through practice, Basil, Trevor, Cathy, Wes and Jack went out to the porch to get some fresh air. Cathy and Basil were talking heatedly about the music for the fête. They wanted it to be different from the usual Sunday evening entertainments at the air base.
Basil and Cathy had far too much to say to each other, Jack thought, and he didn’t like how close to each other they were standing.
“Aren’t you worried about your sister?” he asked Wes, motioning at the two standing as close together as two pickets on the white fence around the manse.
“Basil’s okay.”
“Cathy might get her feelings hurt,” said Jack. “He’ll be gone in a couple of months.”
“You’re jealous, you idiot. Don’t worry about Cathy, she can take care of herself.”
Cathy and Basil joined them. “Let’s drive over to Mortlach after,” Cathy suggested.
“What for?” asked Wes. “There’s nothing in Mortlach.”
“Oh brother,” laughed Jack. “How little you know.” Then he whispered. “They just want to be together.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” said Basil. “I haven’t been to Mortlach.”
“We might need more gas,” said Trevor. Gas rationing made everyone think twice about car travel. “The blokes who borrowed the jalopy last week only put a dollar’s worth in.”
“Will we all fit in the car?” asked Jack.
“Being crowded is half the fun,” said Basil. “It’s not a party without a proper gang.”
“Seeing as I’ve been away, I’ve got a deadline for the base newsletter,” said Wes. “I’m going to hit the typewriter.”
Cathy studied her brother’s face. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll come the next time. I’m not that keen on ice cream anyway.”
“Buddy loves ice cream,” said Trevor. “Is there ice cream in Mortlach?”
Ivy struck three loud chords on the organ, and everyone hurried back to their spots.
“I don’t think my mom will let me go,” Jack whispered to Trevor. “She’s suspicious of all moving vehicles.”
“You’ve got to come,” said Trevor. “To keep Buddy and I company. Basil and Cathy are becoming an item, if you hadn’t noticed. He’s been dropping into the administration office on the base ever since she started as a volunteer secretary.”
“I can’t stay out long.” Jack had a hard enough time being in the same room as Cathy McLeod, let alone the same car. He was so jealous of Basil Skelton it wasn’t funny. And he knew he didn’t have a hope. Cathy was almost three years older than he was. But he couldn’t help the way he felt.
His mother stared at him as he walked down the aisle to his seat. “We’ve still got work to do.” Jack felt his stomach tighten.
“Turn to the new songbook and let’s try ‘Shine On Harvest Moon.’ Tenors, you have a particularly interesting part.” She peered over her glasses at Jack. “If you can pay attention, that is.” Sometimes being the choir leader’s son was as bad as being a pk. And now Arnie was whispering in his ear.
“My nieces say the old swimming hole is great these days. Maybe you should take those English boys out there for a good old Saskatchewan skinny dip. Just check that the girls aren’t there before you chuck off your duds.” He chuckled.
Jack whispered. “I’ll warn them about the poison ivy close to the caragana, too.” Jack had bad memories of itching and burning blotches of reddened skin when he was a kid. Flo had dosed him in calamine lotion and his mother had put Epsom salts in his bath.
After practice the four young people piled in the jalopy to head down the road to Mortlach. Ivy had repeated her “be careful” rant. “Don’t drive fast. Get home by ten o’clock. Don’t forget it’s a workday tomorrow. Stop at the corners. Go slow past Hobbs’ farm – their cat wanders at night and their old German shepherd sleeps on the road.” Jack nodded in agreement. She had let him go, that was the main thing.
Trevor drove. Jack sat beside him. They stopped at the one-pump gas station for a dollar’s worth of gas. Basil unscrewed the silver-coloured gas tank top while Trevor checked the oil. The jalopy needed a quart of oil every time it was filled with gas.
Frank, the older Boyle boy, worked the handle that pumped gasoline into the glass cylinder at the top. “That’s about five gallons.” Then he put the hose into the opening on the gas tank. Gravity fed the gas from the glass cylinder into the hose and then into the gas tank. Basil recapped the tank and Trevor banged the hood closed.
Trevor handed Frank a crisp dollar bill and gas ration coupons.
“How’s the family doing?” Cathy leaned out to ask.
“Did you hear Jimmy tried to get into the army?” Frank asked. “They figured out he was too young right away. So he’s back driving truck for Dad. Making deliveries to the Moose Jaw and Cairn airfields.” He tucked the money in his pocket. “I’d join up myself but someone’s got to keep an eye on the old man.”
Cathy nodded. It wasn’t often one of the Boyles talked this much.
“Where’d you get the dog?” Frank went on. “Looks like one of ours.”
Basil and Trevor shrugged. Cathy and Jack said nothing.
“Jimmy’s not too impressed with you, Jackie,” Frank said. “I’d watch out for him. He’s got a temper like Dad’s.”
“I know.”
A few minutes later they were headed down the gravel road, dust clouds drifting behind them, the moon rising in the darkening sky. The last pencil-thin line of pinkish light faded on the western horizon. Soon the stars would be out. Crickets sang. Specks of light moved across the sky. Some of the raf boys were doing night-flying exercises.
Basil and Cathy were singing “Coming In on a Wing and a Prayer” and laughing. Trevor was concentrating on driving. The brakes on the old Chevy weren’t the best and the steering was loose as a hay wagon.
“The Moth’s easier to steer than this bucket of bolts,” Trevor said.
“I know,” said Jack. “I mean, Sandy told me.”
“Right, Jack,” laughed Trevor. “You’re a sly one.”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“Maybe one of these days I could take you up. Once I’m allowed to go solo, that is.” Trevor dodged Hobbses’ dozing German shepherd. “I guess your mom wouldn’t approve of having a flyer for a son.”
“She hates planes.”
“My mom’s a real softie,” sighed Trevor. “It’s Dad we have to worry about. He hit the roof when he found out I’d signed up. Threatened to throw me out of the house.”
“What do you miss the most?”
“My two brothers – Te
rry, who’s your age, and Tom, who’s older.”
“I only have a sister. But Wes is like a brother.”
“I just hope Terry can stay out of Dad’s way.”
“My dad’s a pussycat,” laughed Jack. “Everyone likes him. He’s not a very good businessman, though. If it weren’t for the raf coming in, we’d probably be out of business.”
“Are you going to take over the store?”
“Me? Never.”
“None of us wanted to work on the London docks like Dad. Tom can’t, of course.”
“Why can’t he?”
“Run over by a horse and cart when he was nine.”
“Oh.”
“He takes care of the newsagent’s shop on the corner. Terry delivers papers for him. Keeps it all in the family, you see. But Dad treats Tom like it was his brain that was injured, not his legs. I should be there to help but I ran off after the Blitz. After the bomb hit the house.”
“Maybe Tom could find a place on his own.”
“He needs help to do things.”
The crew in the back seat was singing one song after another: “Waltzing Matilda,” “There’ll always be an England” and “The White Cliffs of Dover.” The lights of Mortlach shone ahead.
“Maybe Tom will find a girl and get married.”
“Mom would have a fit if he married at eighteen. She told us all to wait until we’re twenty at least.”
Jack was puzzled. Were Trevor and Tom twins? Could they be brothers and both eighteen? How long did it take to have a baby? “I thought you said Tom was older than you?”
“I mean nineteen. Tom’s nineteen.”
Trevor slowed down as they reached the outskirts of Mortlach. The whole town seemed to be sleeping. “That’s what I meant to say. Tom’s nineteen.” And then he turned around. “Where to?”
“The café across from the grain elevator,” said Cathy. “They make really good ice cream.”
“Trevor?” Jack persisted. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen, of course. Chap has to be eighteen to be in the raf.” He pulled around the corner and stopped in front of the café.
Flight of the Tiger Moth Page 8
