Read Online Rising Summer by Mary Jane Staples - Free Book Online Page A

What’s this can of WD for?’
    ‘Refill.’ He grinned. ‘There’s an empty can, ain’t there? That’s ’ow they’re goin’ to nick you, Tim boy, on account of the empty one. Know what they done with all the cans?’
    ‘I only know they pinched your drum.’
    ‘That won’t give ’em no joy. Listen, they got them cans cuddlin’ up in your vehicle workshop, me young mate. I got to hear round about teatime today. A friend knocked on me back door. Them cans is being inspected official in the morning, to see what’s full and what ain’t. One’s empty, you reckon?’
    ‘The Austin’s, for sure, unless any of the workshop staff checked it and had it filled up. But then, Staff-Sergeant Dix, who’s in charge, would have wanted to know more about why it was empty.’
    ‘Well, lad, you show me and if it’s still empty, we’ll fill it up with this canful,’ said Jim. ‘You don’t want no army messin’ you about. Missus likes you. Make sure our Tim don’t get executed, she said. So you lead and I’ll foller.’
    I had a few more words with him first, about how to get into the workshop without being spotted, then rejoined Kit.
    ‘I know who that old goat is,’ she said as we resumed our walk.
    ‘Yes, he’s a useful old handyman,’ I said. ‘I’m glad you’re fond of him too. Now, when we reach BHQ, you talk to the guard on the gates to keep him occupied—’
    ‘Come again?’ said Kit.
    ‘While I pop across to the workshop. It won’t take long.’
    ‘Right first time it won’t,’ she said, ‘I’m not doing it. Leave me out.’
    ‘I can’t do that,’ I said, ‘you’re our anchor man and you can’t hide behind those upside-down stripes all the time. You’ve got to stand up and be counted when a friend’s having problems.’
    ‘What friend?’
    ‘It’ll be quite simple. I’ll explain.’
    ‘Don’t bother,’ she said, swinging along at a brisker pace.
    ‘It’s part of the night guards’ duty to keep an eye on the workshop to make sure a vehicle doesn’t get nicked by some farmer short of transport for carrying cows to market. I’ll take you to a Suffolk market when the war’s over and you can buy a cow to take home to your family. Better than a fake brass rubbing from Birmingham. There’ll only be one guard on duty. Just keep him occupied with some encouraging female talk and keep him with his back to the workshop.’
    ‘Encouraging female talk?’ said Kit. ‘That’s out for a start. Nothing doing, old boy. When a crook gets himself stuck in the mud, let him pull himself out. Giving him a hand would be a mistake. He’d not only think he was entitled to it, but there’d be the risk of being pulled in with him. Is that loud and clear, Hardy?’
    ‘It ruddy well is, but is it friendly? Is it even right? Not on your nelly. You can’t stand aside and see a brother soldier go under.’
    ‘Can’t I?’ she said. We were nearing BHQ. Jim was a silent ghost behind us. ‘Listen, you crook, how long would I have to keep the guard occupied?’
    ‘Only about ten minutes. Easy for a good-looking sergeant like you.’
    ‘Cut the soap,’ she said. ‘Where’s the nearest Episcopalian church?’
    ‘Hold on, you’re not going to bring Jesus in, are you? Do we want to?’
    ‘Where is it?’
    ‘Your kind of church? Nearest one’s probably in Sudbury. That’s fifteen miles away and I don’t think you’ll catch a service at this time of night.’
    BHQ loomed up. Kit came to a halt.
    ‘I’m crazy,’ she said. The vehicle yard and workshop opposite BHQ were just visible from the gates. Occasionally, the man on guard would cross the road and patrol about the place.
    Jim sidled up. ‘Is she on, Tim lad?’ he whispered.
    ‘Oh, shoot,’ she breathed and left us. She was on. She walked to the open gates. We waited, tucking ourselves out of sight. We heard her voice. It sounded cooing. Cooing? A cooing sergeant? That had to do the trick.
    Jim and I slipped across the road,