Some Lucky Day (40 page)

But to have him home and to know that he’d come through his ordeal unscathed made her heart swell with love as she reached out and ruffled his thick mop of hair. ‘I’m not the only one who needs a proper haircut,’ she teased. ‘So come on then, big brother. What have you been up to for two weeks?’

‘’Tis my way of thinking that a man can only do so much talking before he’s in need of liquid refreshment,’ said Ron, who had Monty’s lead firmly wrapped round his wrist. ‘And I believe there’s a bottle or three in the larder if someone would like to fetch them.’

‘Jolly good show,’ said Roger as he got to his feet and rummaged in the large corner larder. ‘The mess was a bit short on spirits, but I managed to wangle a couple of bottles of gin and another of whisky.’ He placed them on the table with the smile of a proud and happy provider.

‘And there’s a crate of beer if anyone fancies it,’ he added as he drew it out and placed it next to the bottles. ‘Wheel out the glasses, Mrs R. It’s time for a snifter.’

Kitty heard the girls giggling and saw how Freddy was making a particular fuss of Cordelia, who was blushing and batting her eyelids while she twittered. Nothing changed with Freddy, she thought happily, and his presence had lit up this dark little kitchen and brought laughter and renewed energy.

Roger and Freddy poured the drinks and handed them round. ‘To homecomings,’ said Freddy as he raised his glass.

‘And happy landings,’ said Roger with a wink at Kitty.

‘To homecomings and happy landings,’ they said in joyful unison as the puppy yapped and Harvey gave a deep bark of approval.

Kitty took only a tiny sip of the gin, for she was on strong medicine and the doctor had warned her that alcohol might have nasty side effects. Once everyone had taken a drink, Kitty’s impatience became too much to bear. ‘Come on, Freddy,’ she urged. ‘I’ve waited long enough now. Spill the beans.’

Freddy took a long drink of whisky and then passed his cigarettes round. ‘Well, I was flying over the beach at Dieppe trying to give cover to the poor blighters down below in their landing craft, when I was set upon by two Messerschmitt 109s,’ he said almost casually. ‘I did everything I could to avoid them and get my shots in first, but they stuck to my tail like glue. Before I knew it I was miles from the bally beach and flying over some sort of town.’

He puffed on his cigarette. ‘Roger could see I was in trouble and stuck to my wing. He managed to down one, but then he was attacked by two more, and had to get rid of them. I was on my own again, trying to shoot down that determined 109, but the blighter got me in the tail-feathers.’ He paused as if for effect. ‘The Spit was on fire, but if I’d bailed out then and let it crash I’d have wiped out half that town.’

The silence was absolute and Kitty found she was holding her breath as he took another long drink of whisky.

‘I’m not like my sister,’ he said with a teasing grin at Kitty. ‘I’m not in the habit of pranging my planes, and my Spit’s been with me since the start, so I didn’t want to see her go up in flames. The fire was in the tail so my engines weren’t affected yet, and I had control, so I flew high and fast to try and put out the bally fire and get well away from that town.’

He gave an almost nonchalant shrug. ‘But it didn’t work, and I could feel the heat at my back and knew I didn’t have long before she blew up. It was time to bail out.’

He stubbed out his cigarette and then looked into the glass of whisky as if he could see the scene in the pale gold liquid. ‘The Spit’s engines were gone by this time and I no longer had control. She was starting to yaw, and would soon go into a spin as she lost height, so I opened up the canopy and scrambled out. The parachute had just opened nicely and I was floating down when I heard the Spit crash and saw the flames and smoke rise above the trees of a distant wood.’

He drank some more whisky, then swirled the remains in the glass for a moment as if to gather his thoughts. ‘Anyway, I was floating down and one of the 109s came back for a recce, saw me dangling there and thought it might be fun to use me as target practice.’

There was a horrified gasp from everyone. ‘But that’s against the Geneva Convention,’ protested Kitty.

Freddy grimaced. ‘I don’t think the Luftwaffe pilot was familiar with that particular part of the rule book, Sis – and even if he was, he’d chosen to ignore it.’

‘So what did you do?’ asked a breathless and wide-eyed Cordelia.

He gave her his best boyish, devil-may-care grin. ‘I hung from the parachute and shot at him with my pistol,’ he said. ‘He flew past a couple of times, and then, with a waggle of his wings, went back to the real battle going on further north.’

‘Goodness,’ twittered Cordelia. ‘How terrifying.’

‘It was certainly rather exciting,’ he admitted, ‘but I didn’t have much time to think about the 109, because I was about to drop straight into a bally great forest. I couldn’t avoid it, unfortunately, and got caught up in the trees. But I cut myself down, buried the chute and made a hasty getaway. I’d seen farm buildings not too far away, and a main road, so it didn’t do to hang around.’

‘My, my,’ breathed an enraptured Peggy.

‘If that pilot saw where you went down, he’d have informed someone,’ said Ron, who clearly wasn’t as impressed by Freddy’s gung-ho adventures as the women. ‘How long was it before they came looking for you?’

Freddy nodded. ‘You’re absolutely right, Ron. I’d soon realised they would guess I’d be heading north to link up with our troops, so I turned west. Then two hours later I heard German voices and the crash of people approaching through the trees. Luckily it was just an ordinary patrol and they didn’t have dogs, so I shinned up the nearest, tallest tree and watched them go by. I stayed up there until dark and then, with the aid of my trusty compass, went on my way.’

‘But it’s been two weeks since you crashed,’ said Kitty.

He nodded cheerfully. ‘Don’t I know it? But it took me that long to avoid the numerous patrols and the villages and farms I passed on the way. I didn’t dare trust anyone, so made a circuitous route to keep well out of the open countryside.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘Which isn’t easy, because that part of France is open and flat, and mainly farmland. After about ten days I found myself in a tiny fishing village just to the east of Deauville.’

He finished the whisky and waited while Roger topped up his glass. Nodding his thanks to his wingman, he continued. ‘I hid in the abandoned ruins of an old house and kept body and soul together by stealing a baton of bread each morning from the nearby
boulangerie
, and eating the cheese I found in the cellar beneath the house. There was some rather fine wine down there too, so it must have been a grand house at one time. But of course I had to be careful with that. Couldn’t afford to drink too much and lose my wits after having got so far.’

‘Did you steal clothes as well so your uniform wouldn’t give you away if you were seen?’ asked an awed Rita.

He shook his head and smiled. ‘Out of uniform I would have been classed as a spy and probably hauled off by the SS for interrogation. The uniform might have marked me out, but if I was captured, it would be as a POW.’

‘But there was no guarantee of that,’ said Kitty sharply. ‘If they have no qualms about shooting at a pilot as he’s parachuting down, then who’s to say what they’d do if they caught you?’

‘That was the chance I had to take,’ he said as he reached for her hand. ‘I was alone in occupied territory, and my only goal was to get back to England in one piece.’

‘So you must have had to trust someone to help you,’ persisted Kitty.

He nodded. ‘Eventually, of course, I had no choice. I moved round a bit during the night to recce the place, and watch from several strategic spots to see if there was any Jerry about, and what the mood was in the village. This wasn’t part of Vichy France, but it didn’t do to assume everyone was anti-Jerry.’

‘So how did you escape?’ asked an impatient Jane.

‘I was just coming to that,’ he replied with a cheeky grin. ‘There was a German officer who strutted about importantly every morning before returning to his lair in the Post Office where he harried the locals and made himself generally unpopular. He was in charge of six men who were supposed to guard the quay and patrol the town, but once he’d gone to the local bar for his lunch, they knew they wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day.’

He grimaced. ‘They were a slovenly, sloppy lot and spent most of the time drinking wine and harassing the younger women. It was soon clear that this occupying group was despised by all, so after a couple more days, I decided to approach one of the older fishermen.’

‘That was risky,’ murmured Kitty.

Freddy shook his head. ‘I’d been watching him for two days and realised he was my best hope. He was an old curmudgeon who spat every time he saw a German and scowled if they spoke to him, or got in his way as he unloaded his day’s catch.’

The smile lit up his face again. ‘It turned out he was a lovely old chap, name of Pierre, of course, and his little wife, Yvette, cooked me the most amazing fish stew I’ve ever tasted.’

‘Are you sure they didn’t have a daughter you managed to charm along the way?’ asked Kitty dryly. ‘It would explain why you took so long to get home.’

He put his hand over his heart and looked sorrowful. ‘Now, Kitty, that’s not very charitable, is it?’

‘I know you too well, Freddy Pargeter,’ she replied with a grin.

‘Well, in this particular case you’ve got it very wrong,’ he said firmly. ‘I saw neither hide nor hair or heaving bosom all the while I was in France, so I’ll thank you not to blacken my reputation in front of these lovely people.’

Kitty laughed. ‘Get on with it then. I’m starving, and it’s way past supper time.’

‘We had to wait until the patrol had drunk their fill of wine and were sleeping it off in the bar. So it was gone midnight when we pushed the boat out and rowed until we were sure the engine couldn’t be heard from shore.’

He grinned at Ron. ‘You would have liked Pierre,’ he said. ‘He was a real old sea dog, tough as nails and as strong as a man half his age. He’d been fishing in the Channel all his life and knew it like the back of his hand – even the mined areas.’

Ron smiled back. ‘Aye, they’re a tough breed, those men from Normandy, and there’s been many a time they’ve drunk me under the table, so they have. I don’t speak a word of their lingo, mind you, but that never seemed to matter.’

Freddy nodded, drank some whisky and lit another cigarette. ‘My French isn’t up to much either,’ he admitted. ‘But I could understand enough to have a fairly decent conversation with him on the way over.’

He fell silent for a moment, his smile fading into solemnity. ‘He’s the third generation of fishermen in his family, and had hoped his sons and grandson would take over. But all three had been captured and shot by the SS for being part of the underground movement in the area which had caused a good deal of sabotage. He hated the Germans,’ he said softly. ‘Hated the very sight and sound of them, and so he was only too pleased to be able to do something for me.’

There was a profound silence in the room, the mood suddenly sombre.

Freddy broke the silence with a chuckle. ‘When we landed in a tiny shingle cove just below Beachy Head, Pierre whispered, ‘
Vive l’Angleterre, bonne chance
,’ before he rowed back out into the Channel again.’

‘To be sure, I’m amazed that our coastal defences are so poor that you could sail in and out again with anyone shooting at you,’ said Ron.

‘We saw plenty of shipping, believe me. But luck seemed to be on our side, and somehow we made it without being spotted. Yet it was a very tiny bay, and it posed the devil’s own job to get out of it, because there was no path and I was faced with a very steep cliff to climb.’

He winked at Kitty. ‘All those years of climbing mountains and trekking across the pampas paid off that night, because I shinned up that thing without breaking sweat.’

‘Honestly, Freddy,’ she sighed with affectionate exasperation, ‘a bit of humility wouldn’t go amiss at this point.’

He shot her a rueful smile. ‘As it happens, I wasn’t all that clever,’ he admitted, ‘because, as I put my head up over the top of the cliff, I came face to face with a group of trigger-happy members of the Home Guard.’ He chuckled. ‘They all got terribly excited and wouldn’t believe that I wasn’t a German spy.’

‘Serves you right for being so cocky,’ teased Kitty.

He ignored the gentle jibe and continued his story. ‘They took me to their commanding officer who, after an enormous amount of cajoling from me, eventually rang Cliffe. After a lot of back-slapping and cups of stewed tea, they took me to a nearby airfield, where I got a lift in a Tiffy back to Cliffe.’ He grinned and held out his hands. ‘And that is the end of my adventures in France.’

‘Jolly good, old chap,’ said Roger as he put a heavy hand on Freddy’s shoulder. ‘Glad to have you back on board.’

‘You’re not going back to flying again, are you?’ protested a horrified Kitty.

‘Actually no,’ Freddy admitted dolefully. ‘I’ve been stood down. Commander Black wants me flying a desk for a while, and I’ll be helping to train the new recruits that are pouring out of the schools and colleges.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ breathed Kitty. ‘You’ve done more than enough, and you were jolly lucky not to have been killed.’

He gave a soft chuckle. ‘You know I’ve always led a charmed life, Sis. But flying a desk simply isn’t my style, and Commander Black knows that.’ He grinned at Roger. ‘I can’t let this old b . . . this old chap go on missions without me. We’re a team, and with him on my wing, I know we’ll come through.’

He grabbed Roger, and they did the bashful man-hug, slapping of shoulders thing which, to Kitty’s mind, looked horribly awkward, and really rather silly.

‘The pair of you need your heads testing,’ she giggled. ‘Honestly, you’re no better than children at times.’

‘Right,’ Peggy broke in. ‘The shepherd’s pie’s nearly ready so we need to clear the table.’

Roger shifted the crate and the girls began to lay the table.

Freddy’s expression grew serious. ‘It’s good to see you out of that hospital, Kitts,’ he murmured. ‘Roger told me how you came to be here, and I’m sorry I caused you so much distress.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘So, how are you getting on?’