It must have been Jack Reynolds who’d been shot – but if so why hadn’t the police been called? Something so exciting would have been the talk of the village and he’d heard nothing this morning. Presumably Jack was in hospital somewhere; Ellie and her parents would be sitting ducks.
He found the turning to Glebe Farm easily. He switched off his headlamps and drove the remainder of the way in darkness. He was pretty sure he was there first, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He thought the field where he’d parked last time would be an ideal place to leave the car. The gate was open, thank God. He switched off the engine and sat for a moment listening. Nothing untoward – just the sound of owls and other night creatures.
He swung his legs over the closed door of his car, slipped the heavy torch into his jacket pocket, and made his way stealthily to the house. He paused and scanned the yard. His breath hissed through his teeth. The house was dark, no sign of the would-be burglars.
It wouldn’t be a good idea to hammer on the door – this would mean lights would come on and these would be seen by the men who couldn’t be far behind him. He needed to get in silently and then find Mr Simpson and let him know what was going on.
The yard encircled the back door; no point in trying here, this would be locked. Maybe there was a window left open somewhere. He did a circuit of the building trying every window with no success.
Eleven
Jack found the gun and collected a handful of cartridges. He would sit on the stairs and wait. As he reached the door the latch lifted. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was outside and trying to get in.
His heart pumped heavily and his fingers tightened around the stock of the gun. He moved slowly to the back door and pushed the bolts. They moved without a sound. He stepped out and quietly closed the door behind him.
He didn’t want to kill the bastard – merely disable him – and do this with as little noise as possible. He reversed the weapon so he was holding the barrel. His pulse steadied. He was calm. He owed this bugger a good thumping but would have to settle for knocking him out. Pressed up against the wall as he was, he would be invisible to anyone coming around the side of the house. He was glad of the support it gave him.
There was a faint sound. He raised the gun and felt a shaft of agony in his right side. He’d get one chance to stop this bastard so he’d better make his blow a good one.
A man stepped into view. He began to swing. The distinct sound of a car approaching distracted him. The man he’d intended to knock unconscious grabbed the gun and they struggled silently.
It was an unequal contest and he lost his grip. The car had stopped but he could hear the engine purring in the darkness. Who the hell was coming here at this time of night?
He was grabbed roughly by his injured shoulder. He couldn’t stop the yelp of pain. ‘Good God! Is that you Reynolds? What the devil are you doing out here?’
The pain and dizziness subsided. ‘Inside, quickly, they’ll be here in a minute.’
Whoever it was didn’t argue and Jack was relieved when the door was bolted firmly behind them. There was a slight sound and then the flicker of a torch.
‘Sod me! What the hell are you doing here, Dunlop? You can tell me later. Can you use a shotgun?’
‘If I have to.’
‘Now, for God’s sake keep your voice down, I don’t want to wake Ellie or her father if I can help it.’
‘A bit late for that,’ she said from the top of the stairs. Greg shone the torch up and Jack saw she was, like him, in her pyjamas. ‘Greg, what on earth are you doing here? I heard a car just now – in fact I thought I heard two cars.’
Jack beckoned her down and quickly explained why he was prowling about with a shotgun. Dunlop told them how he came to be here. ‘You do understand why we can’t call for backup, why we have to handle this on our own?’
‘I think you’re wrong but I’ll do what I can to help you tonight. Ellie, why don’t you get dressed? We’ve probably got a few minutes or so before they try and break in and you’re no good to either of us in your night clothes.’
Jack waited for the girl to refuse, to object to this man telling her what to do. Instead she vanished upstairs without a word.
‘She shouldn’t be involved in this, Dunlop. She could get hurt.’
‘You’re in no fit state to repel invaders and I’m sure Ellie can handle a shotgun better than either of us.’
This was a ridiculous state of affairs. To be arguing about something so trivial when at any moment two murderous bastards could smash their way into the house.
‘There’s one more gun – I’ll go and get it. I’ll see if I can find another torch at the same time.’
They’d been talking in whispers and he was pretty sure Mr Simpson wouldn’t wake up unless there was a full-blown fight. If there was, he doubted he’d be much use. This Greg bloke seemed to know what he was doing despite obviously coming from a long line of posh blighters.
With the single beam of the torch he led them to the small room, more a large cupboard really, where the guns were kept. It obviously also served as a makeshift office, but as it had no windows it wouldn’t be pleasant working in here.
He grabbed hold of the door frame to steady himself. The torch flashed over his face and down his arm. ‘You’re bleeding. You shouldn’t be on your feet, old man, you should be in hospital.’
Jack collapsed into the single chair that stood in front of the small deal table. ‘I reckon you’re right. I’m going to stay here for a bit. Don’t worry, if I’m needed I’ll be ready.’
Greg took down the gun and loaded it efficiently. ‘That reminds me, the two men outside aren’t your usual sort of burglars. I overheard them speaking and they’re definitely public-school.’
This merely confirmed what Jack already knew. ‘There’s not time to explain everything now, but when this is over we’ll fill you in.’
Greg put the gun under his arm, barrel pointing to the floor, and left without replying. He took the torch with him leaving Jack in the dark. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths hoping the dizziness and nausea would pass.
Whatever was happening elsewhere he’d be a liability at the moment so he might as well get a bit of a kip until things kicked off.
*
Ellie had never dressed so quickly. She hesitated outside her dad’s room not sure if he would be better off asleep or downstairs helping. She decided to leave him where he was. Greg seemed to know what he was doing although she would rather have Jack, if he was fit, in charge.
Using the narrow beam of her torch to guide her, she retraced her steps. Greg was waiting and handed her a shotgun and four cartridges. He put his finger to his lips and gestured with his thumb towards the back door and then the front.
This must mean there were two men attempting to get in. They were most certainly armed as one of them had shot Jack last night. Her hands were shaking so much she doubted she would be able to use the weapon she had under her arm. She prayed – to a God she didn’t think existed – that she wouldn’t have to.
There was a light touch on her arm and she pushed her fears to the back of her mind. Greg drew her into the sitting room and then whispered in her ear.
‘Would gun shots attract any attention?’
‘No. Farmers shoot rabbits and foxes at night.’ Her heart was thumping so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.
‘They don’t know anyone is up. If we start making a racket and shouting about calling the police and then fire our guns out of the window I think they’ll take off.’
‘That will wake Dad but it can’t be helped,’ she whispered back.
The sitting room ran the width of the house and he pointed to the back window. She crept to the front and lifted the latch and then pushed it open a few inches. She dropped cartridges into the barrels and closed the gun. She heard him doing the same thing behind her.
‘On the count of three,’ he said quietly.
; One – two – three. She shoved the gun out of the window and pulled the trigger. The simultaneous explosions echoed into the night. The room stank of cordite.
‘Call the police. Someone is trying to break in. I’ll get the bastards,’ Greg yelled.
She pulled the trigger a second time and then he did the same. As the sound died she saw two dark shapes fleeing up the track. Moments later an engine burst into life, headlights lit the scene and then the car roared away.
‘What the effing hell is going on down here? God Almighty – I nearly had a heart attack.’ Dad was standing in the doorway. He’d not stopped to put his slippers or dressing gown on. She couldn’t remember ever seeing his bare feet before.
Then Jack staggered in looking equally shocked. ‘I’m going to make a nice cup of tea whilst Greg explains what just happened.’
Her hands were shaking and she almost dropped the kettle as she filled it at the kitchen sink. She quickly riddled the range and threw half a hod of coal into it. It would soon come back to heat.
Doing something ordinary allowed her to recover her composure. By the time she’d got everything ready she was almost calm. There was something bothering her and it had nothing to do with the men who’d tried to break in.
She leaned against the table and screwed up her eyes. Then she remembered. Jack was bleeding again. Jimmy had left an emergency medical kit for such an eventuality. She was about to grab it and run through the house but stopped to think more clearly. She must wash her hands, collect boiled water and clean cloths if she was to be of any use.
When she shouldered her way in carrying the tray with everything that would be required it was as she feared. Jack was stretched out on the sofa and both her father and Greg were at his side. ‘I’ve got everything we need to sort this out. Which one of us is going to do it?’
Dad moved away as if Jack was on fire. ‘Not me, love, I’ll leave it to you young ones. I’ll have the tea ready when you’re done.’ The door banged behind him.
‘I’ve checked and two of the stitches have broken. I need to wash my hands before I attempt to repair the damage.’
‘There’s no need. I’ve already done mine. The doc explained how to do it and I’ve got everything I need in here. Hopefully he’ll stay unconscious until I’ve finished.’
Greg didn’t argue. ‘I’ve been pressing on the wound. I’ll keep my hand here until you’re ready to start.’
Sewing skin couldn’t be much different to sewing material and she’d done plenty of that. Jimmy had left two needles already threaded. All she had to do was push each one through and then knot the ends.
Jack’s eyes remained closed throughout the procedure but she was certain he was awake as she’d seen his fists clench. When the fresh dressing was bandaged into place he looked at her.
‘Thank you, Jimmy would be proud of you.’ His voice was weak and so was his smile.
‘Why don’t you help Jack sit up, Greg, and then he can drink the tea that will be coming in a minute.’
She dashed out and barely made the downstairs cloakroom in time before she was horribly sick. She pushed herself upright and pulled the chain. She hoped she’d never have to do anything like that ever again.
She emerged from the scullery after washing her face and rinsing her mouth to discover the kitchen was empty. She would much rather go to bed and try and forget about the past hour. But the others would be waiting for her and she’d no wish to worry them by disappearing.
The door was half open, lights on everywhere, and from the racket more than tea was being drunk in the sitting room.
*
Jack had swallowed a couple of the strong painkillers Jimmy had left for him and followed that up with a mug of sweet tea liberally laced with whiskey. He was feeling a lot better now – in fact tickety-boo.
‘Let me get this straight. You drove down from London in the middle of the night to see Ellie.’ Seemed strange to him that this bloke was prepared to go to such lengths for a girl he’d only just met.
‘I did. Once I’m attached to my squadron I don’t know if I’ll get the opportunity to gad about the country seeing young ladies.’
Jack held out his mug and Mr Simpson – no, he was to call him Fred now – tipped in another generous measure of alcohol. ‘Why don’t you help out at the airfield until you do? I’m not going to be much use for another few days.’
‘You can stay here, Greg, there’s a spare bed in Jack’s room. I’m sure he won’t mind you sharing,’ Fred said helpfully.
‘I’ve not got an instructor’s licence so can’t see how I can help.’
‘You can accompany nervous flyers as you don’t need one for that. Both the Swallow and the old Tiger Moth are dual control. Also, I don’t think Ellie should be there on her own at the moment.’ This clinched it.
‘You’re right. I’m still waiting to hear why those men came here and why you didn’t want the police involved.’
Fred explained but Greg didn’t look convinced. ‘So you’re not intending to send this paper to the appropriate authorities because of the family connection? I think you should, regardless of the consequences. Until you do someone on that list is going to continue to try and recover it and next time you might not be so lucky.’
The argument became noisier and at this point Ellie came in. She marched over and removed the mug from his hand. ‘The doc told you not to drink alcohol with those painkillers. I should think half the countryside can hear you shouting about things that should remain private.’
He could see why Greg was keen. Tonight she looked rather attractive. Too fond of bossing people about for his taste; he preferred his birds less angular and more biddable.
‘Thanks for sewing me up, Ellie, you did a good job. Greg, can you give me a hand to get up? I’m for my bed. That reminds me, could someone collect my kit from my lodgings tomorrow?’
‘I doubt I’ll have time until the evening. You’ll just have to manage until then.’
Jack’s head spun as Greg and Fred heaved him to his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the medication, or his injury that was causing him to feel so bloody grim.
Somehow he made it to his bedroom – well not really his anymore as Greg would be dossing down in here as well for the next few days. They dumped him unceremoniously into bed and then left him to it. His borrowed pyjamas were stiff with dried blood and he could do with a drink of water.
He heard Fred returning to his room and Greg went back downstairs. With some difficulty he unbuttoned the top and slid it from his injured arm. He’d sleep with just the bottoms until he got his own belongings tomorrow evening.
The room was in darkness, they hadn’t bothered to put on the light when they brought him in, but the door was still half open so he could see perfectly well. He couldn’t arrange his pillows himself so slumped back as they were.
That Greg bloke was right. They had two choices: one – hand it over to the police; and two – post it back to Ellie’s grandfather. Neither of these was ideal as both would have repercussions, but the alternative could well be far worse. The thought of Ellie or Fred being shot wasn’t a happy one.
He must have dropped off because when he came to there was the soft sound of someone else breathing in the other bed. The house was silent, not even a clock ticking. It must be getting on for dawn and as soon as it got lighter he would go for a leak and then find himself something to drink.
Although wide awake he thought it would be unwise to attempt to clamber out of bed in the dark. He didn’t want to wake Greg, or anyone else for that matter. His head was clear, no more than a dull ache coming from his injury, he reckoned he was perfectly capable of making himself a cup of tea, even one-handed.
The heavy curtains had been drawn across and let little light into the room. Dammit! He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get up and use the bog. Slowly he pushed back the covers and dropped his feet to the floor. Tentatively he stood – pausing for a moment to see if he was in full comm
and of his legs.
The man across the room continued to sleep – at least he didn’t snore. The door was on the opposite side of the room and as Jack’s night vision came into play he could just about see it. He edged his way across, lifted the latch and stepped out into the corridor.
Now he was on his feet he decided to use the restroom downstairs and not risk waking everyone up. He was pretty sure Fred would be up with the lark as he had to see to the cows before breakfast. He wondered why Glebe Farm didn’t have a dog or two, but perhaps because they had no sheep they didn’t need one. Once his bladder was empty he was ready to make himself a hot drink.
As he stepped into the kitchen something hard was pushed into the small of his naked back. ‘Make a sound and you’re a dead man.’
Twelve
Ellie jerked from deep sleep, instantly wide awake, and for a moment disorientated. Something was wrong. She sat up and listened but could hear nothing untoward. Perhaps she’d been disturbed by an owl. Then she heard someone coming out of the room in which Jack and Greg were staying.
One of them needed the lavatory – nothing to worry about. Now she was awake she also needed to pee but would wait until whoever it was had returned to his room. She slid out of bed and groped for her dressing gown and shoved her feet into her waiting slippers.
That was strange. She hadn’t heard anyone go into the WC. As she quietly opened her door there was the sound of someone using the facilities downstairs. She swallowed a giggle. From the sound of it, he’d been desperate.
Still smiling she headed for the upstairs loo, then froze. Her bladder almost emptied. The men they’d chased away had come back. She sidestepped into Jack’s room but didn’t dare call as every sound was travelling through the sleeping house.
Jack was in the bed on the right and she tiptoed across the boards. She didn’t need light to find her way. Her knees bumped the end of the bed and immediately she knew it was empty.
Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 Page 10
