Lights in the Sky: An RAF pilot is sent to Nazi-Occupied Europe (Philip Purser Historical Thrillers) by Purser Philip

Author:Purser, Philip
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2024-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

No vision of loveliness woke him, just a sweaty nightmare in which he was flying a waggon-load of strangers home in an Airspeed Ferry biplane and he couldn’t recognize a single feature of the landscape, let alone the landing field. Later, after dozing off again, it was faint sounds of activity, the rumbling flush of a lavatory and then a manservant, a different one, bringing in a jug of hot water and a clean towel. By the time he’d shaved and dressed and found his way down to breakfast, Katze was in fact about to leave. The servants had kindly lit the charcoal stove on the car for her. Fresh and pretty in her uniform, she introduced Pickup to her mother, who was unsmiling and wore her hair elaborately wound round her head like a schoolmarm. The Count was wearing a kind of pleated tunic over riding britches and knee-length buttoned gaiters, and seemed to have quite forgotten his paddy the night before. He greeted Pickup jovially, smiled fondly as his daughter prattled on and then followed her out, leaving Pickup to the silent disapproval of the Countess.

He listened gloomily to the fitful chug-chug of the motor as it was chivvied into life, drank a cup of lousy coffee and crunched a slice of the knackerbrod Katze had told him was made in Kristianstad, presumably from the knackers of an armadillo. He had just wiped his mouth when the Count returned, rubbing his hands. ‘If you have had enough to eat and drink, perhaps you would like to take a look at our little secret, eh?’

‘Fine. Whatever you say.’

The Count peered at his jacket and slacks. ‘You have brought no riding clothes? I have told Stockholm that you should bring riding clothes.’

‘Sorry, no one passed that on to me. Anyway, I’m afraid I don’t ride.’

The Count spread his hands. ‘Then we must walk.’ He scooped a watch out of his top pocket. ‘In that case we should start at once. The mechanic has to come from Goteborg, but he is usually at the field by ten.’ The Countess said something in Swedish and he snapped back in a reminder of last night’s form. He turned back to Pickup. ‘She says we should order her carriage, but I tell her it is a long way round by road. We shall walk.’

In the hall he paused to take a hat from the array of hats and coats. Pickup noticed a military cap on the next peg, and hanging below it a military greatcoat with a single big star embroidered on the epaulette. The Count followed his eye. ‘Ha! You see the uniform. Have no fear, it is only mine. For the Hemvarnet, which is the same as your Home Guard in England.’

That’s exactly why he did have fear, Pickup muttered. Another Major Kerr. But at least he sounded friendlier now. He was saying confidentially, ‘Of course, the real reason why we must stay within the estate is that you must not be seen on the road outside.

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