Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 by Fenella Miller (top 10 ebook reader txt) 📗

Greg stepped in. He was holding a shotgun but it wasn’t pointed at anyone. ‘Good God! Timothy Harkness, how the hell did you come to be involved in this nonsense?’ He addressed this remark to the man who’d just admitted to shooting Jack.

‘By all that’s holy, Greg Dunlop. I’ve not seen you since Oxford.’

Things had gone from tragedy to farce. Might as well ignore the two long lost friends and put the kettle on, which was what he’d come down to do in the first place.

He glanced at the second bloke who was looking equally bemused. ‘Do you mind if I make a cuppa?’

The man shrugged and pulled out a second chair and flopped into it with an audible sigh.

Jack listened with growing incredulity to the conversation between Harkness and Dunlop.

‘I worked in the city for a bit and then decided to join the RAF. They’re going to need hundreds of pilots when we go to war with Germany.’

Harkness looked less friendly. ‘If the government would listen to us there’d be no need for a war. Hitler has agreed to Britain remaining neutral in any forthcoming conflict.’

Jack riddled the Aga noisily hoping to defuse the tension. It worked. ‘Don’t make so much noise, unless you want Ellie and Mr Simpson down here to join in the tea party,’ Greg said sharply.

‘I’ll have to wake her up as she’s the only one who knows where the envelope is. I don’t suppose your mates will leave without it.’

‘I’ll go and get her. You stay here and make the tea. You shouldn’t be prowling about anyway; you should be in bed resting the doc said.’

Being given orders as though he was a skivvy by some posh gent didn’t please Jack, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Both unwanted visitors were now sitting at the table, apparently relaxed, waiting for him to hand them a mug of tea. No doubt they’d want cake to go with it. He wasn’t inclined to make conversation with a couple of Mosley’s lot so he kept his back to them.

Dunlop had sensibly unloaded his shotgun before propping it against the dresser. There were two revolvers in the centre of the table – a grim reminder of what might have happened if Ellie’s grandfather hadn’t been on that list.

There was a scuffle on the roof just above him. It didn’t sound like a squirrel or a rat but something larger. Puzzled but not alarmed he carried the kettle to the sideboard where he could see the teapot standing. Then something rattled down the chimney and there was a God almighty explosion.

He threw himself to the floor. The room was full of smoke. Then everything went black.

*

Greg discovered Ellie wasn’t in his room – she must have gone back to bed. He tapped on her door but received no answer. He opened it and switched on the light. It was empty. She must have ignored his instructions and come downstairs.

Then the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he remembered there was a second shotgun and cartridges in the sitting room. Ellie didn’t know nobody was in danger and might think she had to rescue them both.

Ignoring the need for quiet he hurtled down the stairs and checked. He was right. There was an open window so she must have gone out that way. He unbolted the front door and ran out. He was about to call her name when there was a deafening noise from the kitchen.

It didn’t sound like shots but as if something had blown up. What next? Someone in the neighbourhood would be here to investigate and God knows what would happen then. As he rushed towards the noise he saw Ellie, a shotgun under her arm, kick open the kitchen door and yell for everyone to put their hands up.

He could barely see her through the smoke that poured from the open door. Then Jack and the other two staggered out coughing and spluttering and she followed them.

The back door was opened and the smoke began to clear. His eyes were stinging – God knows how the others were coping.

‘What happened? Is the house on fire?’ Mr Simpson tried to push past him but Greg held him back.

‘I’m not sure – but I don’t think so. I can’t hear any crackling coming from the kitchen.’

He was right. There was the devil of a mess, every surface in the room was smeared with soot but apart from that there appeared to be no serious damage.

He quickly explained what had been going on whilst his host had been asleep. ‘Bugger me! It’s a good thing the missus wasn’t here. I can hear them outside – I’ll get started on the clean-up. I suppose you’d better take them all into the front room.’

Greg could hear him muttering under his breath about not being happy to be making tea for burglars. The front door was open and the through draft had driven the remaining smoke out through the back door. He had trodden on something sharp on his first foray and was reluctant to wander about outside in his bare feet for a second time.

‘Greg, there you are. What a lark! Miss Simpson almost blew us up in her rescue attempt.’ Harkness said as he came in from the dark. ‘I’ve never met a girl quite like her.’

‘Mr Simpson, as you might expect, is now up as well. He said everyone can go into the sitting room.’

Jack limped in next. Considering what he’d been through in the past twenty-four hours he looked surprisingly well. He grinned, his teeth white in his blackened face. ‘She’s told me where the paper is and I’m going to get it. I never got my cup of tea and I doubt the bloody range will work after what happened.’

A cheerful voice called from the kitchen. ‘Don’t worry, son, I’ll soon have the kettle boiling. I’ve just got to give the mugs a bit of a