The Guest Who Stayed

Chapter 19 - July 1940

Evie cycled cautiously along Duck Lane, concentrating hard on avoiding the growing number of potholes. As she worked for the council, she had tried on numerous occasions to get something done about the state of the road but the war had put a halt to all highway expenditure unless it had a military benefit.

 Nearing Hope Cottage, her attention was caught by the sound of an aircraft somewhere overhead. She stopped pedalling and scanned the skyline. Large white clouds billowed up into a blue sky, making it difficult to identify the plane. Suddenly the noise intensified and the plane swooped low from behind the house, skimming the roof of Hope Cottage and nearly causing Evie to tumble from her bike.

 She watched the small plane, clearly a fighter of some sort, soar up into the sky and disappear behind a towering cloud. Moments later it reappeared and seemed to be preparing to dive bomb the cottage. Evie assumed it must be a German attack - possibly the beginning of the feared invasion. She threw herself from the bike, taking refuge in a wet ditch by the side of the road. Muddy water rose up her stockings as the plane dived low and then roared above her head. She waited for the explosion but none came. When she looked again, the plane appeared to roll in the sky and then disappear to the west.

 She crawled out of the ditch, squirming as the cold muddy water ran down her legs. She picked up the bike and walked with it the last hundred yards to the cottage. Leaning the bike against a tree in the front garden, she made her way into the parlour where Jack was sitting in his wheelchair.

 “Did you see that bloody stupid pilot, Uncle Jack? He dive bombed our house and made me jump into a ditch. I thought he was going to bomb us. Just my luck the ditch was full of water. Look at me now. Can we write to somebody and complain? He should be court marshalled.”

 “I think that might have been Peter,” Jack replied sheepishly.

 “Peter? Who’s bloody Peter?

 “Peter’s my nephew.”

 “Your nephew? I didn’t know you had a nephew. In fact, I didn’t think you had any relatives.”

 Evie was removing her wet stockings as she spoke, revealing two shapely and athletic legs.

  “Peter is my brother’s son,” continued Jack, edging his wheelchair away from the muddy spray that Evie was now shaking from the stockings.

 “I thought your brother was dead – killed in the war.”

 “He was. But before he signed up he’d got a local girl into trouble. I’m sure it was his intention to marry her after the war but, of course, he never came back.”

 “So what happened to the baby?”

 “The girl’s parents put him up for adoption. There was nothing my parents could do. They couldn’t look after a baby at their age.”

 “So how did you make contact again - with Peter - after so many years?”

 “A letter - out of the blue. Seems Peter had been adopted by an older couple in Birmingham. He’d been brought up well but then they’d died. Peter decided that he wanted to find his real family. He did a bit of research, tracked me down and we started writing. A week ago he told me he’d been posted to that new aerodrome at Coltishall. He’s in the RAF – a pilot. Seems he had to deliver a new Hurricane and said he’d fly over the house as he passed. Didn’t say anything about dive bombing.”

 The arrival of a new man on the scene was worth of attention. Evie spent most of her time bemoaning the fact that Frampton was such a sleepy and lifeless place. At eighteen, she had developed a keen and sometimes precocious interest in men and was distraught that the few she felt worthy of her attention had signed up for military service. She desperately wanted to join the armed forces too but her father had made it clear that she had duties at home. Jack’s health was failing fast and she was required to provide care for him, something she found unpleasant and stifling.