Bomber Overhead

by Graveyard Greg

  Chapter 16

  The clothes matron had given Jeffery were a bad fit. The shirt buttoned tight around his chest, the pullover and short trousers hung loose. But he didn't complain and when Mrs. O'Brian put a breakfast of baked beans and toast on the table he ate hungrily. After eating, with the hostel staff all busy, he went back to the dorm and found a book to read. Later, after lunch and before Arthur and the others returned, matron was as good as her word and drew him a hot bath and found him some better fitting clothes. As he washed off the dirt that had stuck when clambered out of the Burnett's cupboard he scrubbed really hard as if he were trying to get rid of everything Burnett. The bath was a real pleasure.

  With that over, dried and dressed, he felt full of energy. He'd never been alone in the manor before, and as nobody around seemed to be paying attention to him, he decided to explore. Many parts were out of bounds, though. One such area was behind a door labelled with a sign in large letters, GIRLS ONLY. That needed no explanation. It was obviously the girls' dormitory.

  Here and there in various odd spots and corners, suits of armour stood as if on guard. He touched a couple of these and his finger came away dusty. In some places, swords, shields, spears, battleaxes and sundry other weapons were mounted on the walls. Most of the shields were decorated with a coat of arms. He found it all interesting but gloomy.

  He came to a dismal passage panelled in dark wood and decided to walk that way. Painted portraits, in ornate frames, of people from past times hung on the walls. These were hard to see in the gloom of the passage, but there was enough light for him to see the men wore very fancy clothes, and some wore wigs; others wore hats adorned with sweeping feather plumes, and still others had sweeping cloaks and gown-like clothing. There were a few women. For the most part all the facial expressions were stern and grim. Then he came to a door with a notice that said, PRIVATE. EVACUEES KEEP OUT. Arthur had told him about this door. It separated the private quarters of the Colonel and his family from the hostel. He'd said the door was always locked, which left Jeffery wondering how Arthur knew that. But there were many things about Arthur that left Jeffery wondering. Arthur had said that sometimes the Colonel invited a few evacuees in for tea. Then while they sat and listened, he talked about his service in India and East Africa with the British Army. But those invites had become rare. Arthur said he thought the Colonel was lonely but afraid the children might become bored by the same stories all the time.

  He retraced his steps and passed through a high marbled archway that led to a huge room. Arthur had taken him through it when they went to the kitchen. It was the manor dining room; long, wide and so splendid it he had gasped when first saw it. Here lords and ladies had devoured banquets in better times so Arthur said. The dining room walls were lined with carved dark wood panels, and to one side a huge fireplace sat stoked with wood logs ready to be lit. On either side of the fireplace stood a strange statue of a heavily armed, bearded warrior dressed in coloured armour. They were posed as if on guard and each was slightly different. He stared at them, but couldn't imagine what they guarded. Above the fireplace hung a full length portrait of a beautiful woman in a long, sweeping, frilled blue gown. Her face wasn't grim but rather pleasant, having a slight, closed lipped smile.

  He was staring at the portrait when a man's voice behind him said, "That's my great, great grandmother. Or maybe it's my great, great, great grandmother. I never could keep track. She's lovely, isn't she?"

  Jeffery swung around to discover the Colonel standing behind him. Flustered, he blurted out, "Yes, sir."

  "Oh please don't call me 'Sir'. Makes me feel like a school master. I found school masters rather horrid as a boy. You may call me Colonel."

  "Thank you, Sir. Sorry! I mean Colonel."

  "Ah! One of the polite ones," the Colonel said. "That's nice. We should get on well." "You don't look sick, so that's not the reason you're not in school. You must be the bombed out boy. Is that it? What's your name?"

  "Jeffery," and just in time he stopped himself from saying sir, "Colonel."

  "Jeffery. I have a cousin named Jeffery. Younger than me. Missing in France. We're still hoping to hear from him – or about him. Hoping he's a prisoner and not dead or anything terrible like that."

  "I hope so, too, Colonel." Jeffery said. Then he pointed to one of the strange statues. "Please. What are those?"

  The Colonel beamed a wide smile. "Ah! Curious by nature and intelligent, too. I see a bright future ahead for you, my boy." Then he turned his attention to the statues. "Very strange creatures, aren't they. They've been there as long as I can remember. I was always frightened of them as a child. The lady above is said to have had them made. Why, I don't know. Some sort of guardians I would imagine. I always meant to ask, but never got around to it. Then we all went off to fight in The Great War, and the ones who may have known never came back."

  Jeffrey thought he looked rather sad. The colonel said no more on the subject, however, but waved to the door to the left of the fireplace that led to the kitchen. "Come on into the kitchen. Around this time of day, when you children are at school, I normally take tea with Mrs. O'Brien, who does our cooking, and usually Matron is there as well. I expect there will be some cake."

  They passed through the door into a room with tables and counters and dishes displayed in glass-fronted cupboards before going through a second door into the kitchen proper. And there was cake. Madeira cake.

  Mrs. O'Brien cut him a thick slab saying, "You're a bit on the skinny side, lad. Eat up." She pushed the plate with the cake towards him and poured him a glass of milk before serving tea and cake to Colonel Bartleby, Matron and herself.

  The cake was scrumptious. So good in fact that he found it difficult to eat slowly and gobbled it down. The three adults ate at a more leisurely pace as they sipped tea and gossiped over village affairs. A local girl's name came up and matron swung her eyes to Jeffery. All three adults suddenly stopped talking.

  Mrs. O'Brien said, "Jeffery, it is Jeffery, isn't it?" Jeffery nodded. "We must be boring you with all this village chatter. Why don't you finish your milk and go outside to have a look around. If you speak to the gardener, he'll tell you where you can and can't go."

  Jeffery emptied his glass and went outside wondering why they'd stopped talking. He guessed there must be a juicy gossip about the girl. He had no topcoat as the shabby raincoat he usually wore remained back at the Burnett's ruined house. But it wasn't raining, or all that cold, so he didn't worry about it.

  The gardener wasn't around, and anyway Arthur had shown him the places where he could and could not go. There was nothing much to do or see. He even went behind the manor house to the kennels hoping to see the hounds, but they were inside and the kennel door was closed. He decided to go through the collapsed wall and have a look at the windmill. That was boring, too. He tried the windmill's front door, giving it a good shake even though the padlock on the door showed it was locked. He stopped the shaking, though, when some of the screws holding the hasp became loose. Then the church clock chimed half past three and he knew Arthur would be along soon. He skirted the mansion grounds to the front gate and waited. Soon Arthur appeared and Ginger was with him.

  "Ginger wants to see how we're getting along with the room in the windmill," Arthur said.

  "After all, I found the kitten," she said. "I should have some say as to if the place is good enough."

  "Don't know what we'll do if you don't like the place," Jeffery said. "Where else are we going to keep a kitten?" He spread his hands and shrugged.

  "Well, I want to see the place first."

  "All right, Jeffery said, "Arthur can show you the room. I'll go over to the farm to get it. I don't think Mr. Selkirk wants to keep her much longer."

  Arthur led Ginger off to the Windmill as Jeffery made his way to the farm. Mr. Selkirk was out in his fields somewhere, but Mrs. Selkirk fetched the kitten and gave it to him. He was surprised to find how much it had grown.

  "What
are you going to feed it?" she asked.

  "Scraps from the hostel kitchen. Mrs. O'Brien said she'd save them." The kitten had snuggled up under his chin and he was stroking it. It began to purr.

  "Scraps are good," Mrs. Selkirk said. "If you don't get enough, come and see me and we'll work something out." With that she pulled back inside and began to close the door. "Goodbye now."

  "Goodbye, ma'am," he replied to the now closed door.

  On his way to the windmill, he decided he liked having the animal snuggled under his chin and it seemed to enjoy being there. He worried in case Ginger would be angry when she saw him with the kitten like that. Perhaps she'd think he was trying to keep it for himself. He decided he would hand it over as soon as they met. That didn't happen because Ginger and Arthur were outside the mill arguing when he got there.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Ginger tossed her head, swinging her hair over one shoulder." It can't stay in there. Horrible place."

  "Why don't you like it?"

  "It's dirty, and there's rats. It's a wonder you didn't notice."

  "One ran over her foot," Arthur chimed in. "She screamed."

  "Did not!" She stamped a foot. "I was surprised, that's all. I made a noise. It wasn't a scream."

  "Sounded like a scream to me, but what do I know"

  "Oh, don't fight," Jeffery said. "If it can't stay there, what will we do with it? I can't take it back to the farm."

  "Well it can't stay in there." Ginger said in a stubborn manner. "The rats will kill and eat it."

  Arthur spread his hands in a motion as if to say, "I give up."

  "Rats don't eat cats," Jeffery said. "Cats eat rats."

  "There's bound to be a lot of them." Ginger was unyielding. "They'll gang up on it." She stepped forward and stroked it under the chin. Jeffery tried to give it to her, but she stood back. "I can't take it. I have to be going in a minute. If I'm late, they'll be angry."

  "We'll walk with you," Jeffery said. "Maybe we can think of what to do on the way."