‘Uncle Danny – come quick! There’s a bomb on the beach. Rob – and the Souters – are watching it, but you
must come!’
‘Steady on, lass. Whatever are you on about?’ Danny
began.
Her grandmother clicked her tongue against her teeth
in exasperation. ‘Now what mischief are you into, Missy?’
Ella, red-faced and breathless, was almost weeping now.
She took hold of Danny’s arm as if to pull him physically
after her. ‘Please, Uncle Danny!’
‘Why do you think it’s a bomb?’
‘Mum’s photos from the war. It’s just like them –
please!’
The two men, Danny and her grandfather, exchanged a
glance. ‘She could be right, you know,’ Jonathan said
seriously. ‘There was one washed up further north. I
remember reading about it.’ There was a sudden expression
of fear on his face. ‘It – it blew up.’
Turning back to Ella, Danny said, ‘Run and ask your
aunty Rosie to phone the police.’ Since the floods, Rookery
Farm now had a telephone. ‘Tell her I said so. Come on,
Mester, we’ll go and see.’
He was limping away as fast as his wounded leg would
allow with Jonathan following and Ella running back the
way she had just come, leaving Esther standing helplessly
in the yard not quite sure just what she ought to do.
It was indeed a bomb and over the next few hours from
the comparative safety of a sandy hollow in the dunes, the
three children and the two men watched the flurry of
excitement as the police arrived to cordon off the area.
‘Look, they’re building a wall of sandbags round it,’
Rob pointed.
‘I ought to be getting back to help with the milking,’
Jonathan murmured once, but made no move.
‘Our mam’ll give us heck when we get home,’ Janice remarked, but she too stayed where she was, parting the
thick grass to watch.
Jimmy could hardly contain his excitement and kept
jumping up only to be dragged down again by one of the
others.
A policeman was walking towards them and, as he
approached, they stood up but did not move out of the
hollow. After taking a few details down in his notebook
from the children, he said, ‘It turns out it’s the responsibility
of the Royal Navy being as it’s between the high- and
low-water mark, and they can’t get here until
tomorrow.’
‘What’ll they do?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Blow it up? Can we
watch, Mester?’
‘They might defuse it where it is, or they might tow it
out a good distance offshore and then blow it up. In the
latter case, yes, you could watch from the sandhills. But if
they defuse it there . . .’ he jerked his thumb over his
shoulder and shook his head ‘. . . no way will you be
allowed anywhere along this bit of beach.’ The policeman
grinned at the disappointed chorus of ‘aws’ from the
youngsters and spread his hands in a gesture of apology to
the two men who looked just as put out.
‘Well,’ he said, putting his notebook back into his
pocket. ‘Looks like a long night ahead for me and the
lads.’ With a wave he set off back across the sand.
‘Is he going to stand guard all night?’ Janice asked.
‘I expect so,’ Jonathan murmured. ‘Come on, we’d
better get back home.’
As they came to the gate at Brumbys’ Farm, they heard
the sound of voices and saw Esther standing talking to two
men, waving her hands and saying, ‘All this fuss and
nonsense. Left here to do the milking on me own—’ She
broke off as she saw their approach. ‘Oh, there you are!’ she said accusingly. ‘Fine time to come traipsing home,
leaving me here to cope with all the work and now these
fellers from the paper—’
The two men, swiftly losing interest in Esther and her
ranting, turned. ‘We’re from the local paper—’ One held a
notebook in his hand and the other carried a camera. ‘Who
actually found the bomb?’
The two Souter children both began to speak at once.
‘We did – we found it.’
‘You gonna tek our picture, Mester, fer the paper?’
‘We knew it was a bomb straight away,’ Jimmy said,
puffing out his chest importantly. ‘I’ve seen pictures.’
Ella, glancing at her grandmother’s pursed lips and
angry eyes, began to sidle away. If the Souters wanted to
take all the credit, she thought, let them. I’ll only be in
more bother with Gran if I—
But Rob was not going to let the Souters get away with
their lies. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘They found it, yeah,
that’s true and when me an’ Ella got there, it was in the
shallows. Jimmy and me started to push it on to the sand,
but it was too heavy. Then suddenly, Ella starts shouting
that it’s a bomb.’
The man with the notebook was writing furiously.
‘Which one’s Ella?’
Her heart sank as Rob reached out and pulled her
forward. ‘This is Ella. It was
her
who knew it was a
bomb . . .’ He cast a glance towards the two Souters that
said, contradict me if you dare. ‘It was her who’d seen the
pictures.’
The reporter was bending towards her. ‘What pictures
were those, young lady?’ He was smiling down encouragingly
at her.
‘I – er . . .’ She glanced towards her grandmother,
unsure what she should say. Then she felt her grandpa’s hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, love, you can tell the
gentleman.’
So, whilst they all stood and listened and the little man
wrote furiously and the other man fiddled with his camera,
Ella told them.
‘Can we speak to your mum?’
The girl shook her head, suddenly unable to speak.
‘Her mother was drowned in the floods,’ Jonathan said
quietly, and although the reporter said softly, ‘Oh, how
dreadful,’ there was a sudden gleam in his eyes: here was a
wonderful, poignant story.
‘Where was your mum stationed in the WAAFs, then?’
Ella glanced up at her grandfather for help. Even she
wasn’t quite sure about that.
‘Suddaby,’ he said.
‘What did she do?’
Here Jonathan turned to Danny who said, ‘She was an
MT driver.’
Jimmy, determined not to be left out of all the limelight
falling on Ella, nudged her and said, ‘Is that all? You told
us she drove a Commanding Officer about in his big car. I
knew you was lying.’
‘What’s that?’ The reporter’s trained ears missed
nothing. ‘She was the CO’s driver?’
‘Among other duties, yes,’ Danny confirmed and Ella
felt a surge of pride when she saw the astonished look on
Jimmy Souter’s face.
‘Could we have a picture of the little girl, do you think?’
the reporter asked. Ella found herself standing, with Rob
and the two Souters ranged behind her, trying to smile into
the camera, but her only thought was, ‘What is Gran going
to say?’
Esther had a lot to say, but for once her chagrin was
not directed at Ella. ‘Why did you let ’er tell ’em so much, Jonathan? They’ll be back day after day, asking all sorts of
awkward questions, digging things up.’ She glanced meaningfully
at her husband, and Ella, catching the look, knew
at once that her grandmother was referring once more to
the fact that Ella had no father.
But all her grandpa would say was, ‘The child did well,
Esther. You should be very proud of her common sense
and quick action.’
Esther bristled, ‘I am, of course, but . . .’
The following morning found the two adults and the four
children once again peering over the side of the hollow
watching the proceedings on the beach.
‘I reckon they’re going to tow it out to sea,’ Danny said.
‘Look, there’s a boat coming.’
Keeping well hidden so that they would not be ordered
away from the area they continued to watch until the
bomb was towed into the water behind a boat, ploughing
a watery furrow through the waves.
‘Shall we see it blow up, Mester?’ Jimmy wanted to
know.
‘I don’t know,’ Jonathan murmured, his gaze on the
boat getting smaller and smaller towards the horizon.
‘Are you lot going to lie there all day?’ came a voice
from behind them and, with one accord, they turned to see
Esther standing on the edge of the hollow looking down at
them. ‘Don’t you know there’s work—’
Something above them caught her attention and whatever
she had been going to say ended in her mouth
rounding in a surprised ‘oh!’
Everyone swivelled back as they heard a dull ‘boom’
and, out to sea, saw a white plume of water spurting
skywards. Jimmy and Janice leapt to their feet and shrieked with delight, but Ella and Rob, catching some of the
seriousness on the faces of the adults, just stared.
Jonathan and Danny got to their feet. ‘Well, that’s it
then . . .’ Jonathan began, then seeing his wife standing
rigidly, still staring out to sea, he added, ‘What is it, love?’
She blinked and seemed to shake herself, but Ella felt
her glance come to rest on her. ‘They could all have been
killed,’ she murmured. Suddenly, she smiled, her whole
face lighting up. She reached out and touched Ella’s curly
hair. ‘Never let it be said I can’t give praise when it’s due.
Ya did well, Missy.’
Ella took a step forward, started to raise her arms to
hug her grandmother, but already the older woman was
turning away. ‘Come on, now. All the excitement’s over.
There’s work to be done.’ Esther turned and disappeared
up and over the dunes, leaving Ella staring after her not
quite knowing whether to be pleased or vaguely
disappointed.
The photo and the article were on the front page of the
local paper the following Friday.
The heading read,
ORPHAN HEROINE SAVES LIVES
and
the piece went on to give a dramatic account of how the
children in the photograph had found the object but that it
had been the swift action of one, Ella Hilton, who had
recognized it as being a bomb. Although mention was
made in a kindly and sympathetic way of Ella’s mother,
Kate, having been drowned so tragically and so recently,
there was nothing said about her father. So Ella breathed a
sigh of relief and tucked the newspaper away in the blanket
chest on top of her mother’s belongings.
The event was talked about by the locals for a few days
and even found its way into a national daily newspaper, though only on an inside page; then it was soon forgotten.
There was only one other outcome; Mrs Souter arrived
once more in the yard of Brumbys’ Farm.
Esther stood watching her approach; feet planted firmly
apart, hands on hips, her green eyes alight ready to do
battle.
‘Esther Godfrey, we ain’t allus seen eye to eye, you an’
me,’ the woman began without preamble, ‘but Ah’ve come
to thank that little lass o’ yourn for what she did.’
‘Eh?’ Esther gaped and Ella, hiding round the corner of
the house, stuffed the back of her hand into her mouth to
stifle her giggles.
‘If it hadn’t been for her, them daft pair of mine might
a’ been blown sky high. Dick said it could easy ’ave gone
off when they was tugging it about. So I reckoned I owed
you that much to come and thank you, like.’
‘’Tain’t me you want to thank, Aggie, but I tek it kindly
you coming.’ Esther smiled. ‘Kettle’s on the hob. How
about a cuppa?’
‘Oo ta, Esther. I won’t say no.’
Towards the end of July, Peggy arrived unexpectedly to
stay a few days at the farm. Ella clung to her and buried
her face against the slim woman’s smart jacket, breathing
in her well-remembered perfume. As soon as they were
alone together, she asked at once, ‘Can’t I come back to
live with you, Aunty Peggy?’
‘Oh, love, you know you can’t. I’m so sorry.’ And
though she touched Ella’s cheek with infinite tenderness
and love, there was nothing else she could say.
Peggy seemed anxious and ill-at-ease as if she were worried about something. Several times during her stay,
Ella saw her talking earnestly, almost secretly, to her
brother, but never when Esther was present. Whenever
someone else approached, they stopped talking. Was Aunty
Peggy pleading her cause? the girl wondered. Was she
trying to get Jonathan to agree to Ella going back to
Lincoln? But when the time came for Peggy to leave, still
no word of Ella going back had been mentioned.
She tried once more. ‘Can’t I go and stay with Aunty
Peggy for a week? I can, can’t I, Aunty Peggy?’ she asked
across the tea-table.
Peggy, her cheeks turning a little pink, looked anxiously
towards Esther. ‘Well, it depends what your gran—’
‘We need you here to help with the harvest,’ Esther said
sharply. ‘It’s our busiest time and you’re old enough now
to lend a hand where you can.’ She turned to look down
at Ella. ‘All farmers’ children help. Always have done,
always will.’
‘But I’m not a farmer’s child, am I?’ Ella glowered, her
lower jaw sticking out moodily, the birthmark on her face
clearly visible. ‘I want to go back to Lincoln. I want to go
– home!’
She was aware that Peggy’s face was growing redder
with embarrassment.
Her grandmother frowned. ‘This is your home now,
Missy, and you’d better make the best of it.’
‘Why can’t I even go for a holiday? lf I can’t go now,
what about Christmas or next Easter?’
Ella turned towards Peggy once more for support, but
the woman’s eyes were downcast towards her plate and
she was pushing the food around it as if she had suddenly
lost her appetite.
‘We’ll see,’ was the only reply Esther would give. But
the girl knew that this time her answer meant ‘no’.
When she went with her grandfather to take Peggy to
the station the following day, her aunt hugged her closely
and whispered. ‘Don’t fret, love, please. When you’re
older, maybe she’ll let you come then.’
‘One day, when I’m older, I
will
go,’ Ella vowed, ‘and
no one – not even
her
– will stop me!’
As the years passed, each school holiday the growing girl,
now a pupil at the local grammar school, smart in her dark
green and gold uniform, asked if she could go to visit
Peggy in Lincoln and every time the answer was the same,
‘We need you here,’ until in the end, she stopped asking.
Her questions about the family, about her own background
even, were always silenced with a frown from her grandmother.
Everything seemed to be shrouded in mystery,
secrets that Esther would not share. Neither would she
allow anyone else to tell Ella anything. Occasionally, she
would hear her gentle grandfather trying to persuade
Esther. ‘You ought to tell her, love. Where’s the harm?
Kate would have explained it all to her by now . . .’