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

possible and he’d done the exact opposite so far. If he wanted to be back at work before Greg had to leave he’d better start taking care of himself.

Fred had said they were working on the far side of the farm this afternoon – something to do with hedging or fencing, he hadn’t been listening too closely. Mrs B had finished her chores, cleaned out the rooms she would be occupying, and gone home to collect her clothes.

The house was quiet and he stretched out and dozed off. He was roused by a thunderous knocking on the front door. He sat up; it took him a moment to clear his head. He rolled out of bed and went to the head of the stairs.

‘Hold your horses. No need to make so much racket. I’ll be there in a minute.’ Whoever it was must have heard him yell because the noise stopped.

Jack took his time putting his shoes on, washing his face and running his fingers through his hair before he went down to answer the door. He was pretty sure he knew who was out there. His mouth quirked. Of course, it could be the rozzers and not Ellie’s grandfather – but he doubted it.

He pushed the bolt back and opened the door. A large, uniformed chauffeur with a belligerent expression was standing on the doorstep. There was no sign of Humphrey but he supposed he was sitting in his car until he could come in without being kept standing about.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Sir Reginald Humphrey is here to see his granddaughter.’

‘Sorry, he’s out of luck. Miss Simpson and Mr Simpson are out for the rest of the day. Tell him he’s free to wait in his car until they come back.’ Jack shut the door but remained behind it expecting the chauffeur to bang again and demand entry for his master.

After a few minutes of silence Jack locked the door and went to the kitchen to see if there was any grub lying around in the pantry. He’d better check the back door was locked as he didn’t want any more surprise visitors. Last night’s intruders had come in through the scullery window but this was now definitely latched.

Mrs B, if she returned before Fred, would have to knock. Better that than allowing the fascist bastard outside to get in the house without an invitation.

He found bread and cheese and made himself a sandwich which he took to the table. He’d just sunk his teeth into it when the knocking began again. He ignored it for a few minutes but it continued until he had to get up.

He didn’t bother to go to the door but shouted from where he was. ‘I told you, I’m not letting you in. You will have to wait until Mr Simpson or Miss Simpson return. I’m a guest here and it’s not up to me who comes in.’

This time the response was from a deep, plummy male voice. ‘Open this door at once. I’ll not be kept waiting like a tradesman. I’ve more right to be in this house than you have.’

‘Sod off, you fascist bastard. I’m eating my lunch. There’s a pub in the village. Go there and come back this evening.’

*

The day at the airfield was like any other. Gladys, who was now running the office, noticed nothing out of the ordinary in there. Both she and Sid accepted Ellie’s explanation, that Jack had sprained his ankle, without comment. Greg went up twice with nervous pilots and she took the rest of them.

She was in the office having just signed a log book and said goodbye to a pupil when Jack rang. ‘I thought I’d better let you know that your grandfather and his chauffeur are outside. I told them to sod off to the village to wait but I don’t think they have.’

‘Don’t let him in – let him sit in his car. I’m not coming back just for him. We’ll be finished here in a couple of hours; can you hold the fort until then?’

‘Can do. Take your time – I can always give him both barrels if necessary.’ He sounded as if he was eating his lunch. He swallowed noisily before continuing. ‘Helped myself to some bread and cheese – hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not. What does Mrs B think of all this kerfuffle?’

‘Fortunately, she’s gone home to collect her things. She said she wouldn’t be back until four.’

‘I’ve got to go – we’ll be home about six o’clock.’

‘Hang on a minute. There’s no need for you to go to my old digs, I borrowed your bicycle and fetched everything myself.’

He hung up not giving her time to reply. He was supposed to be taking things easy not cycling all over the place. There was nothing she could do about it so she might as well get on with the afternoon.

*

Greg was a good driver but Ellie still flinched every time they hit a pothole. Her stomach was churning and she wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable confrontation with her unwanted relation.

‘Do you think my mother knows he’s here?’

He looked at her blankly for a second and then nodded. ‘Your grandfather? I doubt it – he wouldn’t want the daughter he’s only just been reunited with to know what you know. If he’s anything like my father he will come and go as he pleases and not bother to inform anyone of his whereabouts.’

‘I’m hoping that she doesn’t know what he’s really like. She might be a bit of a snob but I’m certain she’s not a fascist. I’ve heard her talking about Hitler with Dad and she always agreed with him that the man is a monster.’

They turned onto the lane that led in one direction to the village, and in the other to her home. They would be at Glebe Farm in five minutes and she needed to get herself ready. As far as she was concerned Sir Reginald Humphrey was nothing to