موزه

Chapter six

The Museum

Jack and Tom were standing in the little museum at the Lychford Country Club. Outside, members of the club were playing tennis and swimming in the pool.

An old gentleman with a big white moustache was smiling at the boys.

‘My name is George Ballard,’ he said. ‘I worked at the airfield during the war. I was a Flight Sergeant in the Royal Air Force. Please look around the museum. Ask me questions if you want to.’

‘Thanks,’ Tom said. Took at these pictures, Jack!’ He pointed to some photos which were hanging on a wall. This is a Spitfire fighter plane. And this one is a Lancaster bomber.’

‘You’re quite right,’ George Ballard said. ‘Now look at this-‘

The old man was happy to talk to the boys. He wanted to show them everything in the museum. Jack wrote notes and Tom asked a lot of questions.

At the far end of the room, George Ballard stopped in front of a big photo of the airfield. The photo had been taken from the air.

‘This picture was given to us by some friends in Germany,’ George Ballard said. ‘It was taken by a German airman in a Dornier bomber, just after the Luftwaffe attacked the airfield on the 28th of August, 1940. Look, you can see the three runways very clearly.’

‘What are all those white marks,’ Tom asked.

‘Those are bomb craters - the big holes made by the German bombs,’ George Ballard replied. ‘The Operations Room - we called it the Ops Room - was hit by a big bomb too. A lot of people died on the 28th of August. The Station Commander died too. His name was Squadron Leader Alfred Leighbridge-Smith. This is a photograph of him.’ George Ballard pointed to a smaller picture. It showed a middle-aged man wearing RAF uniform.

‘So the Squadron Leader was in charge of the airfield when the Spitfire crashed onto the house by the fence,’ Tom said.

George Ballard looked very surprised.

‘How do you know about that,’ he asked.

‘We found out about it for our school project,’ Jack said quickly.

‘It was sad,’ George Ballard said. ‘The pilot made a mistake. He was a young man and he’d only flown a Spitfire a few times. And the weather was terrible too. He was unlucky.’

Jack moved on. He looked down into a cabinet with a glass top. Inside it, there were more photos, an old watch, a leather flying helmet and then - an empty space! In the space was a small card with the words:

NOTEBOOK BORROWED BY MR TERRY BOWLES

Jack put his hand on the glass. It was very, very cold. Suddenly he knew something. The notebook that had been in the cabinet was very important.

‘What was here, Mr Ballard,’ he asked.

‘Squadron Leader Leighbridge-Smith’s diary,’ George Ballard replied. The Squadron Leader’s grandson, Mr Terry Bowles, has borrowed it. He’s a businessman. He’s a very clever man too.

The diary was written in a secret code. And Terry Bowles has discovered the secret of the code. He’s going to write a book about his grandfather. The diary will help him with that. But he hasn’t told anyone what’s in the diary yet.’

Regan and Frankie were at the old people’s home, talking to Florrie Skinner. The old lady was blind - she could no longer see anything. But her mind was clear. She was very happy to talk to the girls. She remembered many things about the War. She remembered the Luftwaffe’s attack on the airfield on the 28th of August, 1940.

‘I was working in the Ops Room when the bomb hit it,’ Florrie said. ‘I was lucky, but some of my friends were killed. That was a terrible day. I had bad dreams about it for years afterwards.’

‘You must have some very sad memories,’ Regan said.

The old lady smiled. ‘Yes. But they aren’t all sad,’ she replied. ‘I had a lovely boyfriend. He was a Canadian and he was very good-looking. I’ll never forget him.’

‘A Canadian,’ Regan said. ‘What was his name?’

‘Was his name - Glen Loosthawk,’ Frankie asked quietly.

Florrie Skinner smiled again. ‘Glen,’ she said. Yes, that’s right, Glen. I’ve got a photo of him. Would you like to see it?’

‘Oh, yes, please,’ the two girls said together.

The old lady walked slowly across the room. She sat down on her bed. Her fingers found an old red box on the small table beside it. She opened the box and took out a big envelope.

‘Here are my photos,’ she said. ‘Come here and sit on the bed. Find the picture of Glen.’

Frankie opened the envelope and looked through the old photos. The first ones showed Florrie as a little girl. Then there was one which showed her as a pretty young woman in WAAF uniform. And next, there was a photo of a young airman. He was tall and very good-looking. Frankie turned the picture over. On the back were the words: GLEN-21ST JULY, 1940.

Regan took the photograph and looked at it. The American girl’s eyes were full of tears.

‘Have you found the picture of Glen,’ Florrie Skinner asked.

‘Yes, we’ve found it,’ Regan said quietly.

‘That was the last picture that I took of him,’ Florrie said. ‘He was killed soon afterwards. And four children died the same day. They were evacuees. They were lovely children. Glen and I had become good friends with them. They died on the same day as Glen, but I saw them in the Ops Room, four days later. That was the day of the German attack.’

‘You saw the evacuees after they were dead,’ Frankie said.

‘Yes. They were wearing strange clothes, but I knew them,’ Florrie replied. ‘They looked like living children, but they were ghosts. Poor little ghosts!’