by Garry Ryan
“A pleasure, I can assure you.” He sat down. He peered back at her from between two stacks of files.
“You said you would represent me?” Sharon looked out the window. I wonder how long Sean will last, sitting in the car. She remembered Sean’s panicked appeals when Michael dropped her off in front of McGregor’s office.
“Yes, I did.” McGregor leaned back in his chair.
“I would like to name a beneficiary, should something happen to me.” Sharon looked at her hands and interlocked the fingers to keep them still.
“Who would this be?” Walter asked.
“My brother. Half-brother, really. My father’s son.” I must sound like an idiot.
“First, we’ll have to establish that you are your mother’s heir. Do you have any documents, like a birth certificate? I’ll also need your mother’s death certificate.”
Sharon nodded. “I brought them all with me. My mother insisted I keep a file of papers. It’s just that they’re in White Waltham right now.” Why didn’t I think to bring them here?
“Would you be able to mail them to me?” Walter asked.
Sharon nodded. “Yes.”
“And would you like me to begin proceedings to establish that you are the legal heir to your mother’s portion of the estate?”
I wonder how my grandmother will react to this? “Yes.”
“If you can come back in an hour, I will have documents ready for you to sign. Then I will proceed with establishing you as Leslie’s heir, after I receive the documents in the mail.” Walter rubbed two freckled hands together.
“You seem pleased.”
Walter smiled. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for someone to come along so that I could take on Marmaduke.”
“Don’t I have to pay you?”
Walter’s smile broadened. “It just so happens that I am retained by your family. In effect, your uncle is paying me to help you. At least for now.”
“So you’ll be in contact?”
“I will. You will supply a mailing address with your documents?”
“Yes, of course.” That might be difficult, the way I move around.
Walter stood up and offered his hand. She shook it and winced. Walter cocked his head to one side and looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ll see you in an hour, then.”
Sean and Michael were waiting outside in the car.
Sharon opened her door. “He wants me back in an hour to sign some papers.”
“Should be just enough time,” Michael said.
“Just enough time for what?” Sharon asked.
“To see the Cow and Calf rocks.” Sean made it sound like she should have already known what their plans were.
They took a road up a hill, then hiked along a trail through a pasture green from the rain. A rocky sandstone outcrop sat at the top of the hill. One boulder had fallen and was tilted at an angle away from the others.
“Can we climb there?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know.” Sharon looked at the height of the outcrop and the sheer drop on this side.
“It’s easier and quite safe around the back. The view is spectacular. Especially on a cloudy day with shafts of sunlight shining through.” Michael parked and waited for Sharon’s decision.
Sean looked down over the valley.
“As long as we’re careful.” Sharon followed Sean, who trailed Michael around to the back of the boulders.
They made it to the top, and Sharon held Sean back from the edge. Shafts of sunlight streamed down through the clouds and illuminated the valley and the town. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
Sharon recalled a summer day in the foothills of Alberta. Her mother would drive southwest of the city to where a massive pair of boulders the size of mansions had been deposited in a field. Mother and daughter often spent half a day there, eating a picnic lunch, talking, and enjoying the view. Sharon had scrambled over the rocks with the mountains behind her and the prairies spread out in front.
Today, she could see her mother there, smiling, her hand shading her eyes as she told her daughter to take care as she climbed, all the while explaining to Sharon that there were rocks like this near where she’d grown up in England.
“Thank you.” Sharon tucked her arm inside Michael’s elbow.
Michael leaned closer. “Your brother thinks the world of you.”
“I think the world of him. That’s why I need to know he’ll be safe and looked after, no matter what happens to me.”
Michael watched Sean as he stood and looked out over the valley. “You need to be forewarned about your Uncle Marmaduke. He is very well informed. By the time we get back to my mother’s farm, he will have heard that you met with Mr. McGregor.”
“McGregor will tell him?” I’ve trusted the wrong person for a lawyer.
Michael shook his head. “Many of the people in the town and surrounding countryside still live very traditional lives. Marmaduke Lacey is lord of the manor, a member of the privileged class; a man with power. Someone will report you to Marmaduke in the hope of getting in his good graces. McGregor is not one of them.”
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Sharon took a deep breath.
“Not exactly. If you understand your enemy, then you will adopt appropriate tactics.”
Sharon frowned.
“Marmaduke will most likely send someone over to do a reconnoiter at our home. Expect the visit and be prepared. It’s quite simple, actually. It’s also important to understand that you have an advantage.” Michael looked at his watch.
“What’s that?” Sharon asked.
“You’re a Canadian. You don’t know the rules that he expects you to play by. You will be unpredictable. And, I believe, you are not afraid of the man. Most who know him are. Finally, he underestimates you because you are, in his mind, nothing more than a woman. He believes you to be his inferior in breeding and in intellect, which gives you another advantage.” Michael waved Sean over. “We need to start back.”
Walter McGregor said, “That’s all I require.” He gathered up the signed papers and put them in a file folder. “Please send me the remaining documents, and I’ll begin work from this end.” He offered his hand. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Sharon shook his hand. I wonder how close he was to my mother?
Michael drove them back to meet Honeysuckle and Linda for lunch.
In the middle of the meal, there was a polite knock on the door. Sharon set down her spoon and looked at Michael.
“Who would that be, I wonder?” Honeysuckle winked at her son.
He nodded, stood, and disappeared down the hallway to the front door. “Hello, Cornelia, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Oh Michael, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Cornelia said.
“Not at all. Join us for some tea,” Michael said.
There was the sound of footsteps, and then Cornelia stood before them. She looked from face to face and settled on Sharon. “Oh, I hoped it was you who’d flown in. I’ve been expecting you to drop by for a visit.”
Sharon sat up straight. Breathe and just say whatever you want to say.
“Sit down, dear,” Honeysuckle said.
“Your Uncle Marmaduke would like to see his niece again.” Cornelia sat down next to Linda. “And how are you feeling?” She patted Linda’s leg.
Linda winced with pain. “Better.”
“My Uncle Marmaduke was extremely inappropriate with me the last time we met,” Sharon said. “I’m really not interested in repeating the experience with him. It’s good to see you, though.” Sharon put a slice of leftover ham in her mouth. I’ve said too much!
“Oh, I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Cornelia looked around the table for support. “Your uncle is a very affectionate man.”
Linda choked and Michael made a show of patting her on the back.
Sharon put her hand over her mouth. “My mother always spoke well of you, Grandmother. I always wondered why she never mentioned her brother. Now I t
hink I know why.”
Cornelia’s eyes narrowed and focused on Sean. “And who is this?”
“Sean. My brother.”
There was a collective intake of breath around the table. Cornelia became intensely interested in the way Honeysuckle was pouring her a cup of tea. “From Canada?” she asked.
“Where were you born, Sean?” Sharon asked.
Cornelia looked at Sharon as if to say, You don’t know?
“London,” Sean said.
“That’s nice.” Cornelia stared out the window, then back to Sharon. “And what have you been up to these last few days?”
“Oh, you know, there’s a war on. . . I’ve been learning how to kill.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Sean stood before Sharon, looking at his toes with his hands in his pockets.
Everyone was in the sitting room after supper.
“Sean, if I don’t go, the Royal Air Force won’t get their fighters. And if the fighters don’t go up to stop the Luftwaffe, then Hitler will invade. I have to go. Then you can be safe, and I need to know that you will be safe.” Sharon felt anxiety telegraphing shivers to her fingertips. She turned to Honeysuckle. “I’m sorry about this.”
“May I interject?” Honeysuckle asked.
“Go right ahead,” Sharon said.
Linda smiled.
Michael studied Sean’s reactions.
Honeysuckle motioned with her hand for Sean to sit between her and Sharon. Sean sat down reluctantly and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“And you can see that I’m running the farm mostly by myself, can’t you?” Honeysuckle asked.
Sean stared back at her.
“You can see that Linda has been injured — burned, actually. Did you know that it was your sister who got Linda to the hospital for burn victims?”
“No,” Sean said.
“The surgeon thinks that Sharon saved my legs by getting me there right away,” Linda said. “I may have to endure more operations, but I’m beginning to heal because of your sister.”
“I just want to be with Sharon,” Sean said.
“The point is that because of the war, you need to be away from the places most likely to be attacked. I need help on the farm. Sharon needs to know that you’re safe.” Honeysuckle leaned away from Sean to better gauge his reactions.
“She’s right. I need to know that you’re okay.” Sharon combed her fingers through his hair.
“When you pulled me out from under the table, I thought you weren’t going to leave. There’s no one else, you know.” Sean wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand.
“She’s here now, and she’ll be here every leave she gets,” Linda said. “And when I have to go back to East Grinstead for another operation, you will accompany me so we can visit her. The nice thing about the hospital is that it’s close to White Waltham, where Sharon is based.”
Sean looked at his sister. “That’s true?”
Sharon nodded.
“Can you keep a secret?” Michael asked.
Sean looked at him.
“Can you all keep a secret?” Michael looked around the room.
“Yes, Michael, we can,” Honeysuckle said.
“Hitler is massing an invasion fleet in France. He’s given Goering, the man in charge of the Luftwaffe, the job of defeating the RAF. If the RAF can hold off the Luftwaffe, then Hitler cannot invade. What Sharon is doing right now is crucial. We need every pilot and we need every aircraft to stop the Luftwaffe. Sean, Sharon and I need you here to make sure that Linda and Honeysuckle are safe.” Michael glanced at Sharon.
“I won’t tell anyone about the invasion force,” Sean said.
“And Sharon will promise to keep her eyes open and stay away from the air battles,” Michael said.
“I promise,” Sharon said.
“And you’ll come back and visit us every time you have leave?” Honeysuckle asked.
“You won’t be able to keep me away.” Sharon began to cry. She wiped at her face.
“What’s the matter?” Sean asked.
Sharon shook her head because she found she could no longer speak.
CHAPTER 20
[ THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, 1940 ]
Sharon and Michael landed at Tempsford right after a squall. Rain puddled on the runway and the concrete apron out front of the new hangar.
Two men wearing leather vests guided them to the mouth of the hangar. Sharon shut down, and the men pushed the Lysander inside. The tires sighed over the shiny concrete surface, and the engine ticked as it cooled.
Sharon climbed down the side and grabbed the tail to swing it around. Michael stood beside her and helped her by lifting the horizontal stabilizer.
One of the mechanics said, “We need to get busy on this one. It needs a long-range fuel tank.” Then he went to grab his tools.
“My car is around the corner. I’ll give you a lift into Bedford.” Michael walked out of the hangar.
Sharon reached into her bag, applied a fresh coat of lipstick, and followed.
Michael squeezed into the car and started it. The red MG’s convertible top was up. “Hop in.”
Sharon opened the door and ducked low. You have to be a bloody contortionist to get into this thing.
“Sorry, it’s a bit cramped.” He drove off in the direction of Bedford.
Sharon recognized the route this time. Why is he driving slower?
“Sean will be fine. I think Mother is excited to have someone around. She hasn’t known what to do with herself with all of us away and her having to run the place on her own.” Michael downshifted as they reached the outskirts of a town.
“I don’t know how to thank her — well, all of you, actually. I feel I’ve asked too much of your mother.” Sharon found herself comfortably close to Michael. He had an unruly bit of sandy blond hair at the side of his head. She wanted to push it back into place, couldn’t think of a plausible excuse for touching him, so did it anyway. He smiled.
“You have to understand, we’re the ones who are grateful, after what you did for Linda. It’s the least we can do. Besides, Sean is a fine chap. Still, I do have a favour to ask.” Michael looked sideways at her.
“What is it?”
“Take Linda up for a ride the next time you have your hands on an aircraft at the farm. I think she wants to go, but is afraid.”
“Afraid to ask?”
“No, afraid to get back on the horse that threw her, as they say.” Michael shifted into a higher gear.
And, as they say, why am I always delivering Lysanders to Tempsford when you’re there? “I’ll see if I can coax her. How many more operations will she need?”
Michael put both hands on the wheel. “I don’t know. Much of the work that’s being done at East Grinstead is revolutionary, if you go by the name the patients call themselves.”
“You mean the guinea pigs?”
“Exactly. All I know is that it appears to be working, and she won’t lose her legs to infection.” Michael looked sideways at her. “Thanks to you.”
“You were very kind to Sean.”
“He’s a wonderful fellow.” Michael smiled. “And very proud of you. He told me all about you pulling him out of the rubble.”
“They told me he was dead. I thought we were recovering his body.” Sharon looked ahead and saw four aircraft skimming overtop the rolling countryside.
“Hurricanes?” Michael asked.
“Messerschmitts.”
“You’re joking!”
“I’m not. Look at the way they fly. Luftwaffe tactics are different from ours. Looser formations. And those fighters have a more angular look.” Sharon looked down to see that her fists were clenched and knuckles turning white.
“Then it must be true.”
“What’s that?” Sharon turned to him as they began to slow at the outskirts of Bedford.
“That you’re a natural. That’s why you were able to shoot those aircraft down. And that’s why you outflew that
Me. 110 pilot and broke up the bomber formation.”
“How do you know so much about me? It’s not common knowledge.” Sharon shook her head.
“I work with some people who are in the business of finding out what’s actually happening — not the daily tallies printed in the newspapers.” It began to rain. Michael turned on the wipers. “I have to be careful how I say this. And, you understand, we have an Official Secrets Act.” Michael eased past a horse and cart with the driver hunched under his hat and slicker. “You see, if a country is in danger of being invaded, it needs to gather information about its enemy.”
Sharon leaned against her door. “I don’t quite see how that allows you to know so much about me.”
“Just one of the perks of my job, I suppose.” Michael smiled at her.
“One of the perks of mine is that I have nightmares about the men I’ve killed.” Sharon looked out her window.
“So do I.”
Sharon turned to face him. You don’t look like a killer.
The MG slowed.
Sharon looked ahead to see a barricade of two erect oil drums, a horizontal stretch of timber, and rolls of barbed wire. The three men at the barricade wore faded army green and had barrel chests, which had since slipped down to curl over their belts.
Michael rolled down his window and stopped.
“Advance and be recognized!” the man with the rifle said.
“Oh, not this rubbish again,” Sharon said.
“Michael Townsend. We just came from Gibraltar Farm.”
The home guard stuck his red face into the open window. “We’ve had a report of German paratroops. Who’s the woman?”
“Air Transport Auxilliary,” Sharon said.
“Never heard of a woman flying for the ATA.” The man with the rifle backed up and looked in the direction of the other two guards.
“Now you have.” Michael reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an ID card. He held it for the guard to read.
The guard took the card and held it at arm’s length. “What’s it say?” He walked to the barricade and showed it to his mates.
Each took a look at the card. One eventually pulled out a pair of glasses, read the card, looked over his glasses at Michael, then said something to the man with the rifle. The guard waved them ahead. The guard with the glasses handed Michael his card back as he eased past the barricade.
