The Guest Who Stayed

by Roger Penfound

  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 martialed.”

  “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.

  “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. 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 worthy 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.

  “So, where’s he staying?”

  “I suppose he’ll be staying on the base eventually but the accommodation isn’t ready yet. He’s asked if he could spend a week with us first. It appears he’s got some leave to take now that he’s finished his training.”

  “Well, it’s a bit inconvenient isn’t it, Uncle Jack?” Evie never liked to show enthusiasm in case it compromised her later. “I mean, this isn’t a hotel. If he thinks I’m going to look after him and cook his meals and wash his clothes, he’s got another thing coming.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be happy to muck in, Evie. And your father’s said it’ll be OK.”

  “Oh well, that is alright then, isn’t it?” she said with over dramatic irony.

  “Perhaps you can introduce him to Emma.”

  “Why the hell should I introduce him to Emma?” Evie thought to herself as she made her way upstairs to change and brush the tangles out of her long auburn hair, inherited, she was told, from her mother. Emma was Evie’s best friend. They had met years ago at school and teamed up because they were both bullied by other children. They discovered that they were stronger when they acted together and soon acquired a fearsome reputation for retribution if they were picked on.

  Over the years their friendship had grown strong and they had supported each other through many trials. Emma’s mother, Flora, worked for Jed in the construction business. Evie knew that they had been friends for many years but Flora never visited their house and Evie was seldom invited to theirs. Jed, however, seemed to spend long hours in Flora’s company at work and would even go back to her house sometimes to continue working in the evening.

  “Evie, Evie, I need you. Can you come down please?”

  Evie tensed as she heard Jack calling her. She detested playing the role of nurse and found it degrading to have to help Jack go to the toilet.

  “Coming, Uncle Jack.”

  Jack was now confined to his wheelchair, unable to walk more than a few paces without assistance. It was nearly twenty years since he had been told by the doctor in London that he would be dead within three to five years. But his condition had stabilised and in the first ten years new medications, improved diet and the country air had enabled him to play a full role with Jed in bringing up Evie. The last ten years, however, had seen a faster decline as his lungs slowly gave up. Now, his presence in the house and his constant demands were a source of irritation to Evie who had acquired a reputation for her short temper and restless moods. Over the years that Jack and Jed had struggled to raise Evie together, there had been plenty of confrontations and acrimony, but slowly the two men had built a trusting relationship which both felt owed much to their separate memories of Alice and their promises made to her in the days before she died.

  It was six o’clock and the summer sun was still high in the sky. Jed stood at the office window watching the activity in the yard. He employed over twenty men now and most were busy tidying away equipment and preparing tools for the next day’s work. He ran his eyes along the line of parked vehicles, open trucks, tractors, diggers and bulldozers. At the far end was his first truck, the old Austin. It seldom left the yard these days but Jed liked to keep it. It reminded him of the early days when he was struggling to build the business and it reminded him too of Alice. He’d come to terms with her death now and filtered out the bad memories. And he only had to look at Evie with her slim build and flowing auburn hair to be reminded of her each day.

  “Jed, I think you should sign this before we go.”

  He turned to see that Flora had come into his office brandishing some papers. Her appearance brought a warm smile to his face. This was where his life was focused now. All these years Flora had refused to marry him but they had become close. She had turned out to be an excellent office manager and Jed relied heavily upon her.

  “What is it, Flora? Can it wait till tomorrow?”

  “It’s the work schedule for the new military buildings up at the hall. They want them by tomorrow morning.”

  With the coming of the war, work had escalated dramatically. New aerodromes were being built, port installations constructed and military bases carved out of virgin country. The work schedule was for new office and residential accommodation at the local manor, acquired by the Ministry of War for a highly secretive project. Jed had no idea what was going on up there but the level of security entailed all of his men being put through weeks of screening before being allowed onto the site.

  “OK, you’d better let me read it first. What shall we do after? Can I come back to your place?”

  He saw a knowing smile pass briefly over her face. She knew what he meant. They had been lovers for over five years. It had taken time. After Jed had rescued Flora and Emma from the slavery into which they had been incarcerated, Flora had suffered a breakdown. Knowing who the father of her child was and living close to him yet not being able to tell her child the truth was a very great burden for Flora. Slowly though, and with patient support from Jed, she recovered and came to term
s with her situation. As she began to work for Jed, her confidence increased and eventually they slept together, though she made it plain she wouldn’t marry Jed whilst Jack was alive.

  “I’ll cook you a meal but you can’t stay. Emma will be home.”

  Jed watched Flora as she prepared the documents for signing. She had lost some of her youthful freshness but had acquired a comfortable and mature look which Jed found very reassuring. In bed, he had found with Flora a freedom and exhilaration that Alice had denied him. There were no targets or goals. They simply rejoiced in the intimacy of their love making and the enjoyment it gave to them both.

  The following Friday, Evie left work at four in the afternoon. She and Emma planned to go to a dance at a nearby military base where there was bound to be a good selection of soldiers newly posted to the region and keen to meet the local female population. They normally spent the weekends together and Emma would often stay over at Hope Cottage.

  As Evie negotiated the last of the pot holes in Duck Lane, she looked up and saw an unfamiliar blue sports car parked outside the cottage. On closer inspection, she saw that it had the MG mark on the front grill. She guessed it must belong to Peter. Momentarily, she toyed with the idea of creeping round the back of the house to avoid him. She had been looking forward to soaking in a bath before going out for the evening. But the idea of being forced to act furtively in her own home by this new interloper was unappealing and so, having propped the bike against the usual tree, she braced herself for introductions.

  She heard voices from the sitting room and made her way there. Jack was in his wheelchair and sitting opposite him was a very young fresh faced man in an RAF uniform. His dark hair flopped over his forehead and he sported a small clipped moustache on his upper lip. “To make him look older,” thought Evie to herself. He was about five foot eleven and had a slim build.

  “Ah, Evie, my dear,” spluttered Jack, coughing mucus into a large white handkerchief. “I’m glad you’re back. Come in and meet Peter.”

  Evie extended her hand as she moved into the room. It was taken enthusiastically and shaken like a puppy playing with a slipper.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” he announced. “Uncle Jack has been telling me all about you. I understand that you look after him very well.”

  “I’m not his nurse, you know,” replied Evie defensively.

  “Oh, I know you’re not. But I'm sure Uncle Jack appreciates everything you do for him.”

  There was a short embarrassed silence as Evie sought to change the conversation.

  “You’re just out of training then?”

  “That’s right. I was sent down from Manchester to deliver a Hurricane. Then I’m going to join my new squadron – 242 Squadron. They’re based at Coltishall now.”

  “So you haven’t seen any action yet?”

  “Not yet – but I think we will soon. Hitler’s amassing an invasion army on the French coast and we’re going to knock the hell out of them.”

  “I hear the German Luftwaffe have got more planes than the RAF. You may have quite a battle on your hands.”

  “Oh, we’ll take whatever they throw at us and whip their backsides too. Once the RAF gets to work on them I reckon the war will only last a few more months.”

  “Well, I admire your enthusiasm, Peter, unrealistic as it may be. But you must excuse me, I’m going to take the dance floor by storm tonight so I must go and put my battle dress on.”

  With that, Evie turned and left the room.

  “What’s wrong, Uncle Jack – something I said?” asked Peter.

  “Oh, our Evie’s quite a feisty young lady, Peter. Got a mind of her own she has. To be honest with you, she’s a bit of a handful for me and Jed. When she gets together with that Emma, they’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Who’s Emma?” asked Peter.

  “She’s the daughter of Jed’s office manager. Mother and daughter live together on the other side of town.”

  “No father then?”

  “No, no father. Can you help me to the toilet, Peter? Better not disturb Evie now.”

  “Have you worked out what they’re doing up at Manston Hall yet, Jed?” called Flora from the kitchenette.

  “I think it’s to do with some special warfare unit. There’s a lot of young navy types up there and they’re often bussed up to the coast. Rumours are that it’s to do with landing soldiers from submarines.”

  Jed finished clearing the table and joined Flora in the kitchenette. The house was small but cosy. By normal standards it was modern with a small cooking range and a coke boiler to heat the water. It had its own individual lavatory outside the back door and two small bedrooms upstairs. Jed was proud of the development. It was one of the first public housing projects in this part of the country and enabled many families from rural slums to be rehoused. Flora had been one of the first tenants to move in. The chief engineer had little difficulty persuading the appropriate official.

  “You’re not going to kick me out tonight then,” said Jed as he placed his hands around Flora’s waist.

  “Emma’s at your place, I think, so we’ve got the house to ourselves. But if you snore again, you’re going to sleep in Emma’s room.”

  “It’s not sleep I’m thinking about. Get up those stairs!”

  Emma’s arrival at Hope Cottage was, as usual, like a typhoon hitting land.

  Her coat never quite reached the hook in the hall and her shoes parted company with her feet seconds after entering the house. On meeting Peter, her verbal rhetoric knew no limits.

  “Oh, are you Peter? You must be. I mean you look like a pilot. That funny little moustache. Not that yours is funny, just that I’ve seen pictures of pilots with funny little moustaches. So what do you fly? Oh, I know it’s aeroplanes. But what sort of aeroplanes? Are they bombers and have you dropped any on Germany yet because ...”

  “You must be Emma,” Peter eventually managed to say. “You’re Evie’s friend.”

  “Yes, that’s right. We’re off out. Do you want to come?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “There’s a dance at this new base just outside Cromer. There’s an open invitation for local girls.”

  “Well, I guess that excludes me then.”

  “Oh God, yes,” replied Emma. “I suppose it does.”

  “But I can take you two girls in my car, if you’d like.”

  “Would you really do that?”

  “It’d be my pleasure.”

  “Oh Evie,” shouted Emma rushing from the room and bounding up the stairs. “I’ve fixed us a lift – with the pilot.”

  Flora’s bed was small and soft – rather like a nest. Jed loved the intimate contact it provided as their bodies wrapped around each other’s contours. They made love in the same way they always did. There was no need to prove anything to each other. Afterwards, they lay close together, limbs wrapped in a contented tangle.

  “Will you marry me?” asked Jed.

  “You always ask me that and the answer's always the same. Not whilst we’re both living a lie. I can’t do it, Jed. Could you imagine me coming to live in your house with Jack? It’d be insane. Two girls, both fathered by him but neither of them knowing he’s their father.”

  “I’m not sure he’s got long to live, he can hardly get out of his chair now.”

  “You’ve been saying that for years. Anyway, it’s not about Jack dying, it’s about the truth getting out, because one day it will and then we’ll both have a lot of explaining to do. Have you thought about that?”

  It was early evening and Peter accelerated the blue MG 18/80 through the country lanes en route to Cromer. He said little, concentrating on holding the car to the road as he raced it round tight bends. Evie sat by his side, occasionally stealing a glance at his preoccupied face. Emma was on the bench seat at the back, holding down her clothes to prevent the wind ripping them from her body. Talking was almost impossible because of the noise.

  “She’s got a lovel
y ..., don’t you think?”

  “What?” yelled Evie.

  “It’s a two point five cc in line ...”

  “What’s in line?”

  “The cylinders. Six in line.”

  “Wow, that’s great!”

  To Evie he seemed immature. She hadn’t much experience of boyfriends but she’d had a few dates, usually with men in their mid twenties, often farm hands or labourers. They were usually silent types, serious and with little conversation. She hadn’t met anyone like Peter before with his boyish enthusiasm and boundless optimism.

  They found the base easily on the outskirts of Cromer. It was a newly constructed site for an infantry regiment. Nissan huts stood in long rows behind barbed wire. Two armed guards stood at the entrance. Peter pulled the car into the side of the road some distance from the gate to let the girls out.

  “I expect they’d let you in, Peter,” Emma called out as she jumped from the back of the car. “We could have a word with the sentries.”

  “No, Emma, thanks. This is their dance and they won’t want intruders. If you like, I’ll pick you both up later.”

  “Don’t worry,” replied Evie. “We’ll get the last train back.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Oh, why not, Evie?” said Emma, rushing to join in the conversation. “It’s a twenty minute walk from here to the station. We’ll have to leave about eleven thirty. I don’t expect Peter would mind if he picked us up at, say, twelve thirty – would you, Peter?”

  “Well, I suppose not.”

  “That’s it then. See you here at twelve thirty, Peter. Come on, Evie, the band’s already playing.”

  The recent arrival in the area of thousands of extra soldiers and airmen had dramatically improved the social opportunities for young women like Evie and Emma. With no shortage of men, they danced away the night to the sounds of a big band from London and drank copious amounts of martini. By the end of the evening, both had teamed up with young soldiers and when the lights in the mess went on at midnight, they drifted out with many other couples to say their goodbyes beyond the perimeter fence.