Flight of the Tiger Moth

by Mary Woodbury

  “What if we get caught? Wouldn’t you get washed out too?”

  “Well, we just can’t get caught.” Trevor headed for the ­door.

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  Jack, Wes and Cathy and the four airmen piled into the jalopy and headed into Cairn after work, with Cathy on Basil’s lap and Dexter and Cheese perched on top of Wes, who complained about his legs going to sleep under the ­weight.

  Jack went into the store and asked his parents for the loan of the truck. “I could pick up supplies at the wholesaler at the same time,” he ­suggested.

  Ivy said no. Bill said ­yes.

  “What happened to your face?” his mother asked as she walked toward the storeroom at the back of the ­store.

  “I fell getting off the tractor.” Sort of true, he thought, except he’d had help falling. Mom pursed her lips but didn’t ­comment.

  “That’s quite a bruise,” his dad reflected as Ivy moved out of earshot. “Looks more like a punch to the nose.” He sat on the captain’s chair with his feet up on a milk crate. “Who did it?”

  Jack mouthed, “Jimmy Boyle,” and his dad ­nodded.

  Bill Waters got up slowly and headed toward the back of the store. “I’ll talk to your mother, Jack. We do need supplies. Give me a couple of minutes.”

  Jack went out to the porch where the other young people stood talking to Arnie and Mel Hobbs about the trip to ­town.

  “I hear the townies and the air force have been mixing it up,” Arnie ­said.

  “Yeah,” Mel said, “seems the town fellas think the airmen have taken all the beautiful girls.”

  Jack thought of Basil and Cathy. He knew one flyer who had the best girl in his ­village.

  “You watch out while you’re in town. I mean it,” Mel went ­on.

  “And remember, Jackie boy,” said Arnie, serious for a change, “courage is not a gift: courage is a decision.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Looks like Jackie’s been in a bit of a brawl himself,” laughed ­Mel.

  Jackie warned the twins not to say anything and told his story about his confrontation with Jimmy ­Boyle.

  Finally Jack’s parents came out to give their permission plus an extension of his curfew to eleven p.m., seeing as he was going to get supplies for the store. Mom started her safety lecture and Bill handed out liquorice twists. Dexter and Cheese strolled back from the pharmacy. Cheese looked really glum. He and Dexter climbed into the back seat of the jalopy with Wes, behind Basil and Cathy. They left first. It seemed that Basil was in a hurry, as usual. Jack climbed into the truck’s narrow seat and Trevor sat on the passenger side, having moved the pile of candy wrappers, mail and bills from the seat. The truck was Jack’s dad’s responsibility, so it was not the ­tidiest.

  Jack headed east down Railway Avenue toward Moose ­Jaw.

  “I was thinking about home,” Trevor said. “London is a great city, full of bustle and business, but there’s something special about a small place like this.” He took out his meteorology notes to study for a test the next day. “I’m going to miss Cairn – your mother’s cooking, you and Wes.”

  For some reason Jack felt a lump in his throat. He put his foot on the gas to pass a hay wagon. He needed to get a move on – Basil had driven off and disappeared down the highway before Bill had finished giving Jack directions and a cheque for the wholesaler. The two carloads were meeting at the Ambassador Café for supper at 6:30 ­p.m.

  Trevor put away his notes. “Why don’t we plan our trip? I can land at the emergency field at Bushell Park. You can drive Sandy’s car and meet me there. We’ll go for a spin in a Moth. It’ll be a lark.”

  Jack hesitated. His mother would have a fit if she ever found ­out.

  “You want to go up again, don’t you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s a deal, then.” Trevor caught a fly on the wing and tossed it out the ­window.

  Jack drove to the wholesaler’s first. Trevor helped Jack load the cartons of tinned foods and cereals, along with wooden crates of soda and packets of candy. They threw a canvas tarp over the boxes and tied it ­down.

  “Haven’t seen your dad for a while,” said the owner as Jack paid the ­invoice.

  “His back’s acting up. Mom’s running things for now.”

  “I don’t think your dad really likes retail. Wasn’t he a travelling salesman first?”

  “I don’t know. I was only five when Grandpa died and Dad took over the store.”

  “Old Waters was a fine fellow. He sure was broken up when his oldest son came home from the war the way he did. Don’t think he ever got over it.”

  “You mean Uncle Jack or Grandpa?”

  “Both of them. That young man had seen too much. Must have been hard on Ivy. Such a lively girl. Talented too, and pretty as a picture. A Chautauqua girl. I heard her sing, did she tell you?”

  His mother, a lively girl, a real beauty? Jack couldn’t believe his ears. This big, bald man with thick arms, sporting a tattoo on his right bicep, knew more about his family than he ­did.

  “She plays the organ and leads the choir at the United Church.”

  “Jack played the piano and saxophone, did you know that? They played duets until he went to war.”

  Trevor honked the horn of the old truck. Jack hesitated, took the receipt from the guy and turned to go. He had a mass of questions skittering around his brain like a bucket of baseballs dumped on the diamond during ­practice.

  “It was a shame what happened.”

  “Yeah, it was.” He didn’t have the nerve to tell the guy he didn’t know what had happened and he was afraid to ask. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. That’s what his dad would ­say.

  “What took you so long?” Trevor asked. “Was that fellow telling you his life story or something?”

  Jack didn’t ­answer.

  Chapter ­19

  As they drove to the Ambassador, Trevor pointed out Basil and Cathy coming out of Plaxton’s Jewellers. “I bet he’s popped the question,” Trevor ­said.

  “What?”

  “Basil said he was going to ask Cathy to marry him after the war.” Trevor hooted. “This calls for a real celebration.”

  Well, that’s the end. Your first romance, Jackie boy, and the girl doesn’t even know you’re alive. Then she goes and falls for the first handsome flyer she meets. He chewed his lips and kept his eyes on the ­road.

  “I think all of us fell for Cathy. Basil’s a lucky bloke.” Trevor glanced at Jack’s brooding focus on the road. “Where’s this restaurant?”

  When they pulled up in front of the Ambassador, Cheese and Dexter were standing on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes. “About time you guys got here,” Dexter said. “Wes headed to the newsstand. We’ve lost track of the other two. We’ve been to Eaton’s and the Army & Navy. I bought a white silk scarf for graduation.”

  Cheese ground his cigarette out with a vengeance. “I won’t be needing one.”

  Just then Basil and Cathy came around the corner holding hands and grinning like Cheshire cats. “Sorry!” said Basil. “We got busy.”

  Cathy showed everyone her diamond ring. It must have cost a bundle. It was big and shiny. Jack pretended a lack of interest. He sure didn’t see himself giving a girl a ring, not for a long ­time.

  Basil pulled out an Eaton’s box and opened it with a great flourish. “I may not get a ring but I get a real flyer’s scarf.” He wrapped it around his neck and twirled Cathy in his arms. “This is the happiest day of my life so far,” he laughed. “Getting my wings will pale beside marrying this fabulous woman.”

  After much backslapping and hugging, they went into the restaurant. Wes came in a few minutes later and joined them in a booth. He waved a pile of comic books and magazines at ­Jack.

  “I’ll let you borrow these when I’m done.”

  “Look what your big sister got.” Cathy leaned across and waved her ring under her little brother’s face.
“What do you think?”

  “Great! Congratulations!”

  There was a sudden burst of chatter and laughter from the rest of the crowd around the ­table.

  Jack didn’t say anything. No one seemed to ­notice.

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  Jack and Wes had hot beef sandwiches awash in gravy, French fries, and mushy green peas. Dexter tried the liver and onions, but it was tough. Everyone else had the Chinese dinner special. They didn’t have dessert because they were going down the street to Johnstone Dairies for ice ­cream.

  A half an hour later the whole gang sauntered down the street licking ice cream cones. Cathy, Basil, Dexter and Cheese went off to a dance at Temple ­Gardens.

  Trevor, Jack and Wes were going to the Capitol theatre to see a Western. The group would reconvene outside the cpr station at 10 p.m. and make their way home in tandem in case either car had ­trouble.

  The movie let out about nine-­thirty.

  “Let’s shoot billiards,” suggested ­Trevor.

  “I don’t know how,” said Jack. He sounded cranky. The movie hadn’t made him feel any better. There’d been too much kissing for his liking. He had wanted cowboy ­action.

  Wes said. “You can teach us, Trevor. It might cheer up our disappointed lover boy.”

  Jack punched Wes’s arm. “I’m no lover boy.”

  Trevor led the way to the Connaught Billiard Hall. “We had a couple of tables in the mess in basic training. I got pretty good.”

  The place was full of smoke, and strong lights hung over the four green tables. Several workmen stood clutching pool cues. A couple of young guys were matched at the nearest ­table.

  “I didn’t know we let in the raf,” said the one who was poised to take a shot. “Or should I call them ­riff-­raf?”

  Jack picked his way through the gloom toward an empty ­table.

  “Look at that, Repete. Look what the cat dragged in,” shouted Jimmy Boyle, standing up in the shadows. “It’s pk and Foureyes.”

  “Yah, look at what the cat dragged in.”

  “Looks like you ran into some trouble,” hollered ­Jimmy.

  “You ran into trouble, Jackie. Jimmy says you stole his dog.”

  “I didn’t steal his dog,” shouted Jack. “I saved the pup’s life. Jimmy left him to die.”

  “Haven’t you had enough yet?” Jimmy ­asked.

  “Yeah, Jackie, haven’t you had enough?” Repete stomped right up to Jack, close enough so that Jack could smell stale sweat and beer ­breath.

  “Take it outside, boys. This is a respectable place.” The owner opened the front door and ushered them all out. The younger players had joined Jimmy and Repete as they filed ­out.

  “Fight! Fight!” one guy ­called.

  Jack stood with clenched fists. “I don’t want to fight any more, Jimmy. You didn’t want the dog anyway. This is stupid.”

  “Did you call me stupid?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did,” said Repete. “I heard you.”

  “Butt out of it, Repete,” Jimmy ­said.

  Meanwhile a scuffle had started between one of the labourers and an raf ­flyer.

  Just then the jalopy pulled up to the curb. “What’s going on?” Basil jumped out. Dexter and Cheese followed. Cathy stepped carefully away from the car and the ­fracas.

  “None of your business, Limey.” Repete put both his fists up into a boxer’s pose. “Back off, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “What’s all this then?” a group of rcaf men came strolling down the street from the closest hotel bar. “Someone picking on our friends?”

  A couple of Repete and Jimmy’s friends turned and shouted at the group of nattily dressed airmen. “You guys come in here thinking you’re God’s gift to the universe. This is our town. Why don’t you go home?”

  A sergeant with huge shoulders and a thick Yorkshire accent was holding Repete Nelson. “We’ll have none of that, now.” Repete was struggling to break free. The sergeant pulled him closer, one huge arm wrapped around the boy’s upper chest and ­neck.

  Repete opened his mouth but no sounds came ­out.

  “Keep your trap shut, boyo.”

  “The Cairn babies have their pet flyers with them,” hollered one of Jimmy’s ­friends.

  Trevor stepped into the fray. “You got something against flyers, kid?”

  The town guy’s fist connected with Trevor’s jaw. Trevor grabbed him in his wiry arms and put his left leg out to trip the burly kid. The two fighters toppled ­over.

  Before anyone could stop it, a regular wrestling match was underway as the townie and Trevor rolled on the cement sidewalk. The crowd split between townies and the military. Shouts filled the ­once-­quiet night ­air.

  A fat youth smashed a bottle and held it out menacingly. A scuffle broke out between two ­well-­built lacs and a couple of construction workers. A crowd of supporters screamed and taunted from the sidelines. Traffic slowed on the ­street.

  Two police cars slid to a stop across the ­street.

  “Break it up!” someone yelled. “They’ll haul us all to jail.”

  “Come on, Trevor,” yelled ­Jack.

  Jimmy Boyle strolled over. “So, Jackie boy, are we even?”

  “For now, I’d say so,” said ­Jack.

  “Nothing like a good fight, Jack,” Jimmy ­chuckled.

  “Speak for yourself. I’m the one with bruises.” But he thought he could see a shiner around Jimmy’s left eye where he’d got in one good ­punch.

  “See you around.” Jimmy moved to the sidelines. “Take good care of my dog, you hear.” He and Repete moved ­off.

  The Cairn crew broke away and ran down the lane to the old truck parked near the cpr station and clambered in. Cathy, Basil and Trevor squeezed into the cab and the rest jumped in the back with the groceries. Jack hopped into the driver’s seat and drove ­off.

  “Did you see the size of the sergeant that held Repete?” asked ­Jack.

  “What about those two goons that took on the rcaf boys?” asked ­Basil.

  “They’re both gonna have bruises tomorrow,” commented ­Jack.

  “No worse than yours,” laughed Trevor. “Did Jimmy say anything to you before he and Repete ran off?”

  “He says we’re even now.”

  “Good,” suggested Cathy. “It’s over.”

  “We’ll see,” said ­Jack.

  “What about the jalopy?” Basil asked. “We should go back for it.”

  “I wouldn’t advise going back for anything,” said Trevor. “There will be military police and town cops all over the place.”

  “Let’s keep going,” Jack said. “I’ve got to get this stuff home.”

  Cathy sat on Basil’s lap by the passenger window. “Two guys smashed the front window of the jalopy while you were fighting. I was glad I’d gotten out.”

  Jack concentrated on driving through the quiet streets to the highway, his heart racing. He kept his eye on the ­rear-­view mirror to see if any police cars were ­following.

  “Some ­Farewell-­to-­Cheese party, some engagement party,” Cathy said. “Let’s go home. I want to show Mom and Dad my ring.” She waved her left hand in front of ­her.

  Dexter knocked on the back window of the cab. He shouted, “Slow down, will you? This isn’t the most comfortable place to sit.” Wes, Dexter and Cheese were perched on cartons and crates from the wholesaler’s in the back of the ­truck.

  Jack took a deep breath and eased his foot onto the brake. No sense being stopped by the rcmp. He waved at Dexter through the dusty back ­window.

  “Those townies have been spoiling for a fight ever since the first trainees arrived,” said Trevor, sitting in the middle, trying not to get in Jack’s way as he changed gears. “Doesn’t scare me. I was raised on a street of brawlers.”

  I wasn’t, thought Jack. I was raised in a house full of ­rules.

  “Small wars, big wars, they’re all the same,” Trevor continued. �
��It’s about power and control. Bullies and victims. We all have to decide where we stand. This afternoon Jack stood up for Buddy, tonight I stood up for the military.” Jack focused his attention to the dark road, but Trevor’s words pleased ­him.

  Jack decided he’d drop the airmen off first, then Cathy and Wes, and then take the truck back to the ­store.

  He had a few questions to ask his ­dad.

  Chapter ­20

  It was eleven o’clock but Jack’s parents were sitting on the front porch of the store watching for him. Something about their silence cut off greeting and conversation. Wes and Cathy headed home without stopping to talk. Cathy wanted to show her parents the ring before anyone else in town saw it. But Jack told his ­folks.

  His mother shook her head. His dad motioned for Jack to sit down on the ­step.

  “I should put the stuff away.”

  “It can wait.”

  Jack wondered whether someone had reported to his folks about the fight in Moose Jaw. No one from Cairn could have seen them, could they? And why were they sitting here instead of at ­home?

  “We received a telegram from Flo’s supervisor.” His mother was talking so quietly that Jack had to strain to hear her words. “Flo’s been wounded. She’s in the hospital.”

  Jack felt as if a brick had hit him in the stomach. “Is she going to be all right?”

  His dad took over. “They didn’t say much. Just that her injuries are being treated and…she’s in critical condition.”

  “What happened? Was the hospital hit?”

  “We don’t know,” said his ­dad.

  “I kept thinking of her last letter where she said she had enjoyed her leave by the sea. She was looking forward to going hiking with friends.” His mother was gripping her lace hankie as if it was a life ­preserver.

  “Yeah,” said Jack. Maybe Flo had really been shipped out to a field hospital as he had suspected when he read that bit of news. Could you get wounded in a hospital in England? He tried to concentrate on the ­conversation.

  “Remember, she said all sorts of military bands were on parade. And that she thought her dad would have liked it, seeing as he’d played the saxophone.” Bill stretched his feet out in front and rubbed his hands along the sides of his ­trousers.