Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 by Fenella Miller (best ereader for students .TXT) 📕

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