Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2

by Fenella J Miller

  ‘My intentions are strictly honourable.’ The chair scraped against the wall as he stood up. ‘I’d better go and say hello to Mrs Simpson. You staying here or coming with me?’

  ‘I’m going home when I finish this beer. I’ve got to be at the airfield first thing – got a couple of new pupils coming to see if they want to learn to fly.’

  He wandered off leaving Jack to think about the brief conversation. Strictly honourable? This meant Greg was already considering marrying Ellie if she’d have him. Seemed daft to him to be making such an important decision after just two meetings.

  He pushed himself to his feet and was shocked how much his head spun. He shouldn’t have had that last pint, it had pushed him over the edge. His landlady would take a dim view if he turned up on the doorstep in this condition so he’d better spend the night at the airfield.

  There was an old rug in the back of the car which would do to sleep on. The night was warm so he wouldn’t need a blanket over him. He’d shaved just before he came out so wouldn’t look too rough in the morning. With luck there would still be milk to go in his tea and hopefully the biscuit tin would be full as well.

  He walked more or less straight to the field where the cars were parked. The lanterns bobbing about in the trees made it easy for him to find his car amongst all the others. He certainly wouldn’t fly when he was pissed but he reckoned he was perfectly safe to drive his car down a deserted track without coming to grief.

  His headlights lit up the airfield like searchlights. There was a flicker of movement in the office. Some bugger was after the petty cash tin. He put his foot down and skidded to a halt inches from the door. Whoever was in there couldn’t escape without going past him, and even drunk he was a match for most men.

  *

  Ellie was up early and decided she’d much rather work for free at the airfield than for free at home. Dad was on the farm somewhere hiding from Mum who was on the war path because he’d not lived up to her exacting standards last night. She had heard them rowing late into the night. Mum didn’t do anything as common as shouting but her voice had carried through the walls. Dad had retired long before the party was over so Mum must have barged into his room to harangue him. He wouldn’t have been happy about this invasion of his privacy. Their marriage had been a mistake – one she was never going to make herself.

  Today she was in slacks and there was no danger of showing her underwear to anyone. The church clock in the village had struck eight o’clock a few minutes ago but Jack was already here.

  Why had he parked so close to the office? The door was ajar but there was no sign of him through the window. She dumped her bicycle in its usual place and saw the three aircraft were safely in the hangar. He’d obviously taxied them in before he’d left for his digs last night. There were no lessons booked until ten so she was puzzled as to why he’d got there so early.

  As she approached the steps that led to the office she heard what sounded like a groan coming from inside. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. ‘Is that you in there, Jack? Is something wrong?’

  There was no answer. Slowly she pushed open the door and for a moment was too horrified to move. Jack was slumped under the table and his smart suit was covered in blood.

  She’d done a basic first aid course when she’d got her instructor’s licence so knew what to do. She dropped to her knees beside him and felt for a pulse. Thank God! It was weak but regular. Blood was seeping from somewhere and this had to be stopped if he was to survive.

  She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the first aid tin from the shelf. She doubted there was anything really useful for a gunshot wound – but that’s what it was – so she’d have to make do. Should she call for an ambulance as it would probably take them half an hour to arrive? Then what about the police? They must be rung as well.

  To do both would take too long so she would attend to the patient and then make the phone calls. She grabbed the office scissors, cut through his jacket and shirt and removed half of both, along with the sleeve. The bullet had gone through the fleshy part of his upper arm – not his shoulder at all.

  There was a small bottle of Dettol in the tin which would be really useful. She tore off a wad of cotton wool and tipped water from the kettle onto it. She began to carefully wipe away the worst of the blood from the oozing bullet wound.

  Then she did the same for the exit wound. In order to do this, she had to lean him against her knee which meant she now had blood all over her slacks. This would be hard to explain when she went home. Once she was sure the injury was clean she tipped neat Dettol over both and the shock of this work Jack up.

  ‘Jesus H Christ, that hurt,’ he said, his voice coming out more like a hiss than words.

  ‘I’ve nearly finished. I’ve just got to put on a bandage. Can you sit still for me?’

  He didn’t answer and his eyes closed. He’d passed out again. She put a sterile pad on either side of his arm and held them in place with a tightly wound bandage. There was little left in the tin by the time she’d completed her ministrations.

  His skin was clammy and cold. They kept a picnic rug somewhere and that would be ideal to put around his shoulders until the ambulance arrived to take him to hospital. After a quick search she found it under a pile of old newspapers and draped it around him. She was worried that he was still unconscious.

  She left him propped against the wall. She’d never had to ask the operator to connect her to the ambulance or the police and her hand shook as she picked up the receiver.

  ‘No, no police. No ambulance either.’ Jack had woken up.

  ‘You’ve been shot. You need to go to hospital urgently and the police have to be told.’

  He grimaced and forced his eyes open. ‘Please, for me, no calls.’

  ‘You’ve lost so much blood…’

  ‘Cup of hot sweet tea. No need for hospital. I’ll be fine in a bit.’

  She was going to refuse but he looked so desperate, and his colour was a little better, so she relented. ‘I’ll make you some tea and then you can tell me what happened. I’ll decide after that what I’m going to do.’

  She tipped the remainder of the water into a mug and held it to his mouth so he could drink. He finished it greedily. Her emergency first aid appeared to be working as there was no fresh blood seeping through the bandage.

  She nipped outside to fill the kettle from the tank then lit the paraffin stove. This was fairly efficient but smelt horrible. She’d brought a large slice of fruit cake for her breakfast but his need was greater than hers. If he ate this and drank a cup of tea then she might not need to call out the ambulance.

  His right arm was the one with the injury and he was left-handed which would make things easier for him. He appeared to be sleeping rather than unconscious which gave her a few moments to recover from the shock.

  There were two phone calls she had to make but these were to the people coming for their first lesson later this morning. It wouldn’t do the reputation of the business any good for anyone to find the owner had been shot.

  She told both of them Jack had been called away on a family emergency. She rebooked their appointments for the following weekend and by that time the kettle was singing.

  ‘Jack, wake up, I’ve got a cup of tea for you. I want you to drink it and eat this piece of cake.’ She was crouching down beside him holding the mug and the plate.

  He opened his eyes and this time he looked more himself. ‘I think I can manage on my own, but one thing at a time.’

  She handed over the tea and watched anxiously to see if he could hold the mug without spilling it all over himself. He swallowed it down with no difficulty; she removed it from his hand and offered him the plate. He took the cake and that went down as quickly.

  ‘You’re obviously recovering fast. But those holes in your arm need stitching…

  ‘I’ve got a friend who can do that for me. I don’t want anyone to know about this. Give me your word that what happened here wi
ll remain a secret.’

  Eight

  Ellie pushed a chair to the far side of the office and sat staring at him through narrowed eyes whilst nursing her tea. He was going to have to work hard to convince her not to call the police or drag him off to the nearest hospital.

  He might as well tell her the truth as he couldn’t think of any convincing lies that would make sense. He told her his reason for coming here – that was the easy part.

  ‘I was bloody stupid. I should have realised the bastard in the office had something to do with my uncle. If I’d been sober I wouldn’t have made such a daft mistake. I charged in and he shot me.’ A cold sweat dripped down his back. ‘I tripped over the step on my way in. If I hadn’t I’d be dead now.’

  ‘What was he looking for?’ She glanced around and he followed her gaze.

  ‘God knows – but he didn’t find it otherwise the place would be turned over. I reckon I arrived a few moments after him and he hadn’t started his search.’

  ‘Didn’t you see a car or motorbike on the way down the track?’

  He shook his head and wished he hadn’t as the pain made his head spin. It was his bloody arm that was shot so why did his shoulder hurt almost as much? He swallowed a few times and then felt okay. ‘No, I don’t know how he got here. All I can think of is that he came across the fields on foot. Don’t look at me like that, love, I’m not going to peg it just yet.’

  ‘There’s some aspirin in the drawer; would you like some?’

  ‘Please, and another cuppa would go down a treat too.’

  He dozed whilst she did this. He wasn’t feeling too clever but it could be a hangover as much as his injury. He hoped so.

  She woke him by touching his arm. ‘Here you are, plenty of sugar again. I’m going to search but it would help if you could give me an inkling of what it is I’m looking for. I suppose I should be shocked that Joe is involved with would-be murderers – but I’m not really. The worst sort of criminals live in the East End and he must have acquired something from one of them.’

  ‘All the more reason to find whatever it is and give it back to them before somebody actually does get killed. They’ll be back, I’m certain of it.’

  Her face drained of colour and she stared wide-eyed out of the window as if expecting a man waving a gun to magically appear.

  ‘Sorry, that was crass of me. They won’t be back in the daylight. You can be bloody sure someone’s watching this place and waiting to see whether the rozzers turn up.’

  ‘Is it going to be more dangerous or less if we don’t call them?’

  ‘Less – much less. Uncle Joe is in it up to his neck and I don’t want the boys in blue poking around anymore than they are already. I don’t approve of his lifestyle, but he’s always been good to me and I’m not going to turn him in.’

  She slopped her tea as she picked up the mug and he wished she hadn’t been involved in this. Mind you – if she hadn’t decided to come in early he could be dead by now.

  ‘I’ve been thinking. Although Joe was in the office more than he was in the air, I’ve been in and out of here every day for the past four years. It’s not especially spacious so I’m sure I’d have seen something like a cashbox full of jewellery or something.’

  ‘I agree. Therefore, it must be a document of some sort. Joe must have come across something valuable and decided to hang onto it in case it came in useful.’

  ‘Could he have been blackmailing a gangster?’

  He managed a feeble chuckle and she appreciated the effort. ‘I doubt it – they would have come for him before this. It has to be… bloody hell! I don’t know what it is but I think I can guess why they’re looking for it now. They didn’t mind Joe having it, but now the police are investigating his affairs things have changed.’

  She finished her tea and stood up. ‘It has to be somewhere I wouldn’t touch. I’m going to start searching in that pile of old newspapers. I’ve always wondered why he kept so many as I’ve never seen him read any of them. I suggested throwing them out last year and he shouted at me and told me to leave them alone.’

  She carried the pile over to the table that served as a desk and began methodically looking through the pages. If there was anything of interest amongst them she was the girl to find it.

  He shifted uncomfortably. He needed a pee and he didn’t think he was going to be able to get to his feet without her assistance.

  ‘Ellie, I had God knows how many pints of beer yesterday and…’

  She dropped the papers as they were red hot and sprung to her feet. ‘Golly! I should have thought of that myself. Hang on, I’ll get you a bucket.’

  She dashed off and he tried to stand up but failed miserably. The thought of the poor girl having to empty his piss into the Elsan wasn’t a happy one.

  *

  There was no bucket so Jack would have to manage with an empty oil can. This sort of thing was easier for a man. Another one of life’s disappointments.

  ‘This will have to do. I’ll move your car somewhere more sensible and leave you to it.’ She was about to close the door when something occurred to her. ‘Do you need help with anything?’ She kept her fingers crossed that he didn’t.

  ‘Sod off, Ellie, I’ll call you when I’m finished.’

  There was plenty to get on with outside. Fortunately, no one else was working today, but someone had booked a three-hour jaunt in the de Havilland this afternoon. At some point this morning she would have to taxi the aircraft out onto the strip and do a quick pre-flight check. It would also need refuelling. She’d no idea where the pilot intended to take the plane as he hadn’t filed his flight plan.

  A plan wasn’t strictly necessary, but a sensible precaution. Before any aircraft left the airfield, Joe insisted he knew exactly where they were going and that the pilot was quite clear where he could land in an emergency. Flying out to sea was strictly forbidden. She supposed the company rules didn’t apply to relatives.

  Petrol was delivered in large cans every week from the local garage. These were kept in a separate building far enough away from the hangar that in the event of a fire nothing else would go up in flames. The Moth had to be taken to the fuel and not the other way around.

  How long would it take Jack to pee in the can? He should be finished by now and it would be safe to go back and remove it. She’d given it to him with the lid so at least she wouldn’t have to view the contents or get it all over her hands when she carried it out.

  Moving the car to a more sensible parking place took her ten minutes. She noticed there was a rug on the back seat so she grabbed that and took it with her. Even if he didn’t want it over him he could use it to lean on and make himself more comfortable.

  Despite the seriousness of the situation she couldn’t help smiling. If Jack was anything like either of her brothers he’d be squirming in embarrassment. It wouldn’t do any harm. In her opinion he was far too full of himself.

  She paused on the top step. ‘Is it safe to come in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He was nursing the half full container between his knees. Hastily she rammed on the lid making sure she didn’t make eye contact. ‘I’ll just get rid of this and then get on with the search.’

  The contents slopped about inside; it was surprisingly heavy. She wasn’t going to do any more at the moment than put it somewhere outside where no one else would inadvertently open it. He could dispose of it himself when he was better.

  When she returned to the office he was looking a lot brighter but still far too pale. She added the rug to the one he was already covered in and he didn’t complain. ‘I know you don’t want to go to the hospital but how do you propose to get to your friend? You can’t even stand up and I certainly can’t move you on my own.’

  ‘Hand me the telephone and I’ll make the arrangements myself. You get on with your search.’

  He was far too fond of issuing orders but this time she would let it go as he was probably feeling really rotten about everyth
ing.

  When he was connected Jack didn’t give any details about his injury, just asking for whoever it was to come immediately to collect him. She returned the telephone to the table and continued rummaging through the newspapers.

  ‘Will your friend be here soon? Do I need to have finished this before he gets here?’

  ‘He’s coming from London. Please try and find it. I can’t leave knowing whatever it is might still be here and those bastards will be coming back for it.’

  She resumed her task and was beginning to think it a wasted effort when a long brown envelope slipped out of the paper she was flicking through.

  ‘I’ve found it.’ She looked around expecting him to be sharing her relief but he was either asleep or unconscious and didn’t react. She pushed her find into her slacks’ pocket, quickly re-stacked the newspapers and replaced them on the shelf.

  ‘Jack, Jack,’ she squeezed his good arm but got no response. She checked his pulse; it was no weaker than before and still regular, but this time he wasn’t just dozing but unconscious. This couldn’t be a good sign. Could he have internal injuries from his fall? If his friend didn’t arrive in the next ten minutes she was going to ring for an ambulance and he would just have to jolly well lump it.

  Her bandages were still in place and neither wound was bleeding heavily enough to discolour them. She hoped she was worrying unnecessarily and that he was just deeply asleep. There wasn’t any blood on the floor – it had all soaked into his clothes. There must be some on the wall behind him but she couldn’t do anything about that now. It would have to be cleaned when he had gone.

  Should she cancel the man bringing his girlfriend for a joyride? What if the man with the gun came back? She’d given her word she wouldn’t talk about what had happened to anyone, otherwise she would ring Dad and ask him to come over.

  Now she was being ridiculous – he would be somewhere on the farm and she could hardly tell her mother why she wanted him so urgently.

  Then the welcome sound of a powerful car approaching made the decision for her. She was about to rush out to greet the driver when it occurred to her it could be someone else looking for the paper and not Jack’s friend. There wasn’t much she could do about it apart from hand over the envelope and pray they would be satisfied with that.