Bomber's Moon by Raven McAllan

Author:Raven McAllan [McAllan, Raven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Archie felt like screaming. If it weren’t for the fact they needed the rick to help see them through the winter, he’d have shouted, “Let it burn.” But as it was...He turned and looked at Chrissie still sprawled on the bed. “Bugger.”

“As you say. So what now? If you’re not going to be around, I’ll get back to The Grange,” Chrissie said, regret uppermost in her voice. “There’s still time. Because if I’m going to be on the carpet for breaking my curfew, let’s face it, I want it to be for a good reason. Not on the off chance you might not be away for long. Is there a bike I can borrow to ride back?”

In spite of his worry, Archie laughed. “In the woodshed. I’ll get it out for you as I go. Damn it all, Chrissie, I thought I’d be the one having a ride tonight.” He kissed her lips, gave her right nipple a tweak for luck, and made his way as fast as he could downstairs. Alf Tibbins, one of his oldest and loyal farmworkers, was waiting for him, stirrup pump at the ready.

“Don’t know how it started, sir, but when young Kenny saw it, it was well alight.”

Archie grunted. Spontaneous combustion, a spark from a match, whatever; they were lucky it wasn’t during a bomber’s moon.

“Young Kenny wasn’t conducting his courting nearby, was he?” asked Archie, as he got onto the ancient tractor. Alf clambered after him and held on to the back of the driver’s seat for grim death, taking care not to fall off as they bumped over furrows and tussocks of grass.

“Not a chance. He knows he’d be out on his ear if he did. Ricks are sacrosanct, all the workers know that. Too much chance of losing the hay. None of them can go without a fag after a shag.”

Archie felt guilty. Not everyone was as lucky as him, able to conduct their amorous liaisons in the comfort of indoors. A hayrick, cowsheds, stables, anywhere to get out of the wind was a bonus. And while anxious mothers tried to persuade their daughters “nice girls didn’t,” randy lads did their best to persuade those same girls “nice girls did” and did it very well. For every girl who listened to her mother, there was one who didn’t. And twice as many young men who were determined to increase that number—Archie being one of them.

During these hard days of the war, the young, idealistic men who made up fighter command could count their life expectancy in months, if not days, rather than years. All of whom, in the main wanted to experience “the lot” before it was too late. Therefore to a man they put pressure on any half-good-looking girl, and that pressure was relentless. It was no wonder, when confronted with a pair of baby blues that pleaded, ‘it’ll be fine I’ll take care of you, but I’m off into battle and what if…’ so many hitherto innocent young ladies surrendered their innocence.

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