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

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 command 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.

‘Greg, Greg, wake up. They’re in the house and I think they’ve got Jack,’ she whispered as she shook his shoulder.

His hand came up and covered hers. ‘I’m awake. I’ll get dressed. Sit on the other bed.’ He mouthed the words into her ear and she nodded.

It took him seconds to pull on his trousers and then he was beside her. ‘What did you hear?’

She told him and he was silent. ‘Stay in here. I’m going down. We left the cartridges and shotguns in the sitting room. If I can get hold of one, we’ve got a chance of coming out