Bomber Overhead

by Graveyard Greg

  Chapter 7

  On Friday nothing much happened. At School, Arthur told Jeffery that the kitten was all right. He couldn't go with Arthur to the hostel because Mrs. Burnett had told him to be sure to come straight home as they were eating early. This was to allow the visiting Burnett's time to go out and look at the outsides of the local houses that were for rent. Even though his family had been bombed out, Wilfred Burnett still had to catch the train up to London each morning to get to his job. Today he'd left work early and everybody, including Jeffery, after they'd eaten supper, went out to look at nearby available houses.

  Around eight-thirty or nine O'clock that night the sirens sounded as usual. Later, under the stairs, when Gordon came to bed, the usual snorts and grumps kept Jeffery awake but no German aircraft flew overhead. Finally, overcome by tiredness, he fell asleep.

  Saturday morning he rose at six-thirty, his normal time and by seven-thirty, after the ever skimpy breakfast, he left the house telling Mrs. Burnett he was going to visit Arthur at the hostel. She grumped but didn't stop him. The one advantage for Jeffery in living at the Burnett's was that he never had to do any work other than to straighten the cupboard bed. He hurried up the road to the main bypass and crossed over by the railway station and headed for Marwell Manor. As he came out onto The Green, he met Ginger who'd rushed through her early work so that she, too, could get to the hostel and the kitten.

  "Hallo, Ginger," He welcomed. "You're out early."

  "Well, it's my kitten isn't it?"

  Jeffery didn't answer this and they fell in side by side, hurrying, both of them eager to get to the hostel.

  "Have you thought of a name?" Jeffery asked.

  "Not yet, I don't know if it's a boy or a girl."

  "Didn't you look?

  Ginger blushed slightly. "No! I didn't think to. You or Arthur can look when we get there. He will know we're coming, won't he?"

  "Of course he will. He knows we wouldn't stay away today. And you know I always go over to the hostel on Saturday morning." He looked down at the ground. "Peter always came, too, when he could get away." Then he added, "But you know that."

  They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Ginger said, "If it's a boy cat, should we name it Peter? Would you like that?"

  "I don't know," he answered. "It would be strange, but it might be nice, sort of in memory. I'm not sure. I liked Peter a lot and I'm not used to him having been killed."

  On reaching the gate, they went in through the pedestrian side entrance because, as usual, the main gate was closed. Stately Elm trees lined each side of the driveway and on the right a footpath under the trees ran up to the Manor. They went straight to the front door and Ginger, who was closest, pushed down on the little handle that rang the bell. This was what they'd been told to do when visiting.

  Shortly the door opened. Betsy stood there. She stood looking at them for a moment, nodding her head as if she knew a secret. Then she said, "You two," and opened the door a little wider. "I suppose you'd best come in. You want Arthur, do you?"

  Ginger went first squeezing past Betsy and Jeffery followed.

  "He's in the recreation room down at the end of the corridor, but it's not raining, so you won't be allowed to stay in there."

  The recreation room was a large room to one side of the mansion that had been fitted out for the children to relax and entertain any visitors.

  "We don't want to stay in," Jeffery said. "We have things to do outside."

  "Going to play with the kitten are you?"

  The two children stopped short in surprise.

  "If they find out, they won't be letting you keep it. I haven't told them yet. What will you give me if I keep quiet?"

  The pair turned to stare at Betsy who stood feet astride, hands on hips and her nose pointed up.

  "We don't have anything," Jeffery said.

  Betsy pointed to Ginger's velveteen bag. "There's that. I'll keep my mouth shut for that. It's a bit shabby, but its better'n what any of my friends have."

  Ginger swung the purse up, clasping it to her chest. "No!"

  Jeffery saved the day, and later, when Ginger asked how Jeffery how he'd got the idea, he'd confessed that he didn't know where it came from. "You can't make her give you that," he snapped. "Her Grand-mum gave it her before we was evacuated. Now she'd dead. Killed by a bloody Jerry bomb. It's all she's got left to remind her of Grand-mum."

  "Why should I care?" Betsy gave a sniff. "Not my Grand-mum. I kind of fancy that bag more now that I know how valuable it is to you. It makes it more attractive."

  "Well you're not having it, so there." And Jeffery put a protective arm around Ginger and swept her along the corridor towards the big hall.

  "I'll just have to go and see the Colonel, then, won't I?"

  Jeffery stopped and swung around to face Betsy. "You do and I'll tell some of what Arthur's told us. Got a sharp eye, Arthur has. You tell. I'll tell." Then he swivelled and hustled Ginger along the way they'd been going.

  "What has Arthur told you about her?" Ginger whispered.

  "Nothing. I told a lie."

  "Ooo!" was all that Ginger could think of to say.

  They found Arthur where Betsy had said he was. Ginger broke the news.

  "Betsy knows about the kitten. How do you think she found out?"

  "She saw me. I saw her see me."

  "Saw you when?" asked Jeffery. "Did she follow you out this morning?"

  Arthur pursed his lips and then ran his tongue along his teeth. "Last night when I brought the kitten inside," he said. "Then I saw her watching when I took it back out this morning. Cook knows too. But she's all right. She gave me a little jar with milk for it."

  "How did Mrs. O'Brien find out?" Ginger demanded. Mrs. O'Brien was the cook's name. Ginger's grandmother had been a cook for a big family at one time and had hated being referred to as 'Cook' by everybody.

  "I think Betsy must have said something. Or maybe Cook…Er!…" He put his hand up to his mouth. " Sorry. Mrs. O'Brien saw Betsy watching me. I'm not sure she likes Betsy." He turned around and headed for the back door. "Come on. We'll see how it's getting on."

  Ginger followed him as he went out and Jeffery brought up the rear. Not wanting to upset the gardener, they took the roundabout route and soon reached the old chicken house and clambered inside. The kitten was pleased to see them, and shortly it was up on Jeffery's shoulder while the other two stroked it and tickled behind its ears.

  "Have you checked to see if it's a boy or a girl yet?" Ginger asked.

  "Didn't think to," Arthur said. "Turn your back and I'll have a look."

  Ginger did as she was told and faced the inside of the coop while the two boys moved over to the door. Arthur lifted its tail, turned his head to one side, and then the other.

  "What is it?" Jeffery asked in a near whisper.

  "Don't know. You take a look, Geoff."

  Jeffery lifted the kitten off of his shoulder, checked, and then shook his head.

  "Come on," Ginger said, a snap in her voice. "What's the hold up?"

  "Hard to tell," Arthur said.

  "Oh don't be silly!" Ginger swung around, reached out and took the kitten. "It's got to be easy to tell. It's a girl," she declared after looking.

  "How can you tell?" Arthur asked.

  "If it were a boy it would have," she blushed, "well, you know."

  "Ain't that easy" Arthur said. "My dad showed me how to tell, one time, but I've forgot. That thing don't show on a kitten."

  Ginger blushed even more not wanting to go into further detail when she realized she wasn't absolutely sure. Arthur and Ginger had stepped out of the chicken house and all three stood by the door talking about the problem. Ginger held the kitten, petting it.

  So involved were they that all three jumped when a voice said, "What are you lot up to? What are you doing in my chicken coop? What's that you have there?"

  None of them had given a thought that Colonel Bartleby, owner of Marwell Mano
r might come that way, at that time. The spot was so neglected that it seemed that nobody ever came there. Now they stood frozen in place, speechless. Arthur looked at the ground, scraping a foot on the grass. Ginger stared off to one side petting the kitten furiously and biting her lip. Jeffery looked the Colonel right in the eye.

  "Well, speak up. Cat got your tongues?"

  "Kitten, Sir." Jeffery said

  "Don't be cheeky, to me. What's your name?"

  "Jeffery, Sir. I'm not being cheeky, Sir. That's a kitten we have there." He pointed. "Ginger found it day before yesterday and it seemed hungry so we thought we'd look after it." Now he became fidgety and shuffled his feet.

  "Kitten, you say? Well, you can't keep it at the manor. We have one house cat. It looks after all the mice. We don't need another."

  Ginger spoke up. "Oh please, Colonel. Can't we keep it in this old place? We promise to look after it. Please."

  "Afraid not. Wartime you know. Going to be putting some chickens in here soon. Just came out to check it. Not that that's any of your business."

  "Isn't there somewhere we can keep it," Arthur pleaded.

  "Not at the Manor, and I don't know anyone wants a kitten. Take it over to Selkirk's farm. He might be willing to take it."

  Arthur hung his head. "I can't go over there. He doesn't like me."

  The Colonel harrumphed. "Oh, yes. You're the haystack boy, aren't you? I'm glad you've got over that burning business." Then his head jerked back and he looked at Arthur through narrowed eyes. "You won't try to burn the manor down, will you, just because I won't let you keep that kitten here?"

  "'Course I wouldn't. I get treated well here. But the kitten is a lot like us, sort of lost and without a real home."

  The Colonel's face softened. "There's a war on, boy. Bad things happen in wars. Cheer up; we'll win in the end. One of those two," he waved a hand at Ginger and Jeffery, "can take it over to the farm. Now be off with all of you. I have work to do."