TALES o'T'OTHERWITH BOY.

PROLOGUE 78BBBC

Aug 02, 2023

The heavy flak rising from the Coventry defenses had seriously damaged the lone German Bomber. With oil and smoke spurting from the port engine and perforated wing, the aircraft had been forced to abort it’s mission. There’d be no more presents from the Luftwaffe this night. Struggling with the steering the pilot set course for the north-east, intending to drop his last few bombs on the city of Kingston-Up-Honor-Number. Standard practice for aborted flights. Inflict a bit more damage, lighten the load for a faster sea crossing. But it was not to be. Flying towards Goole a sudden cessation of the burning engine caused the aircraft to descend alarmingly. The only option was to quickly drop the bombs, harmlessly, into Thorne Marshes. Load gone the plane lifted its nose, one last bomb stuck in the drop mechanism. Before it could be freed, the bend in the moonlit silvery river beneath indicated their substitute target city. Another engine sputtered and died. “Los Jungs ! Jetz Springen, Gehe mal, Gehe Jetze !!”

As the wind carried the parachuting crew into the arms of the garrison below, the pilot managed to level his stubborn beast, running for the coast, determined to take his chances, only to be thwarted again.

Fierce hot flak from Hedowick tore through the fuselage, his legs and another engine. Much of the cockpit disintegrated, and out into the night he rolled.

The explosion was noted by the defense post up T'Otherwith lighthouse. Phones rang. "Aircraft down and burning on Rise Island Hill". A jeep and fire tender from the coastal defense unit at Patterdorp arrived at the same time as local bobby, Sergeant Grantham on his bike. The soldiers gingerly picked their way through smouldering debris and vegetation, up towards the crater. Grantham walked over to the water tower, to look for leaks. What he found there was a bloodied corpse, hanging tangled in a parachute on the tower's far side. He clambered up to cut it free. It groaned

Behind T'Otherwith railway station stood the Impressive Victorian Convalescent Home, now given over to war casualties. In one small, locked, four bed ward lay the isolated pilot. The staff had made no protagonist distinctions, caring for him well, amputating what was left of his right arm. Since a week or so he had been able to cross from his bed to sit, sea gazing by the open window.

Nurse Sally Booth, who had learned a bit of Flemish Dutch from her Antwarpse grandad, had been detailed to his regular care, with instructions to discover what she could. Now Dutch ain’t Deutsche, nevertheless, over some months, via a shared sense of humor, they had fashioned a way to chat together, yet he remembered nothing, not even his name. Nor had he carried any papers. The staff dubbed him Herman the German. This day as she brought him cocoa and a lighted cigarette, she had tidings....

"Got some news for yer Herman" She started making up all four beds. "There's another trainload of wounded arriving in the morning, we need all the beds now. Gonna avta move you out" "Was, Wohin bitte ?" "Dunno yet, a farm I 'spect, probably Simpson's, that's where most of your comrades end up. Me Mum cooks for 'em y'know." He didn't know. "I'll pop over and see yer sometimes if yer like" He did like. They soon became mutually smitten, a word they laughed about. Fourteen months later they had a son, they called him Gerhard, Gerhardt Schmitten.

CHEVERTON 68BBBC

The big old rented house had rooms to let all year round, not just during the busy holiday season. Purdie preferred it that way, a war widow with an unruly young son, she needed the cash more than the space. Her previous house was still under probate. They had the big bay windowed front room downstairs and a small bedroom each in the attic. The facilities they shared with the shifting tenants.

Dominating the Bay window sat a huge Aspidistra, long overdue a repotting, precariously balanced on a rickety woven reed table. Purdie viewed this Victorian oddity as a symbol of her Respectable Landlady status. T’Otherwith’s grimy Coalman next door thought she was a bit snobbish. Her boy often made him laugh.

Every winter the boy caught flu. This time it was fever, the traditional remedy was Sweat, hot honey and lemon to wash down the pink junior aspirins. Purdie put up a folding bed across the bay window, and banked the coal fire to smoulder all night. Fevers would get progressively worse until the victim woke up, semi cured..... or..... dead. It was before first light when the boy half woke, totally confused, desperate for the loo. Thinking he was in his attic room, he got out the wrong side of the bed. The startled Aspidistra leapt out of the window, smashing its pot on the cill, strewing glass shards around. the boy collapsed crushing the stool. Purdie rushed in to find him wound in vomit and pee soaked ripped curtains, that had protected the stricken lad from cuts. Her tenants and sisters talked about it for weeks.

Once in a while she'd take her son to the City to visit the family, maybe staying over at her parents. They would usually go to the Gainsborough Fish and Chip Restaurant. She liked to think it was posh, relating it to the time she had birthed her son in the stately home of Lord and Lady Gainsborough. Despite the name the two buildings had absolutely no connection, except that both establishments cut their bread and butter slices in triangles.... The chippy charged extra.

The boy always asked for a double portion of this "lower end of posh" treat. Purdie penny pincher would sneak her own pre-prepped portions from her bag. Except when the Aunties dined with them. On one such occasion the waitress bearing the extra triangles gaped in surprise at the boy.

"Oooh ! Whatevers the matter ?" cried the Aunts. "Oh sorry, I know 'im. 'E built a loverly sandcastle for my little Judie this summer, din't yer !? Yer the boy from T'Otherwith, ain't yer ?" "That's alright then" says Purdie, embarrassed. It was the first time she ever left a tip. The Sisters talked about it for weeks.

That Winter was the year of the North Sea floods, East Yorrick Shire, Link Holme Shire and the distant Dutch coast suffered greatly. Cars and people were swept off T’Otherwith’s low promenade below Cheverton. The man on the radio said don't go for a look. Disappointingly, Purdie said it as well. In fact, she decided it was time to move away from the prom. Life was hard enough, commented the grimy coalman, without gettin' drowndid as well !!

THE CHESTNUTS.

Tree lined verges along the street and a fruit treed long garden, their new smaller house stood in an acceptably posher area. Not perfect - only one room for a paying lodger, two impoverished families in converted railway coaches at the other side, and it was so much further to the school, a bus fare was needed. Together with school dinners it came to five old pence a day, and only 240d in a pound. Still, there was a Doctor and teachers on this best side, plus no need to feed the lad middays.

The lad soon realised that by swapping school dinners for pattie wiv chips, and walking home, he'd have a penny'a'pny left over for chocolate

There was a glitch.... Walking the parallel beach route, one had a duty to build as many sandcastles as possible to defend the town from the enemy. If the tide was coming in then King Canute would need a Sea Fort. That meant enlisting all the other kids to dig. A two mile walk home could take upto eight hours. Sergeant Grantham, weary of being sent to search so often, devised a cunning plan. "Oi ! Don't yer know yer teas on the table !?" ringing out from the lighthouse garden. The keeper and the sergeant would wink and grin at each other. "I'll walk you home, I'm going that way anyhow" "Can we walk along the beach ?" "Nay lad, I ‘av ter be seen on my route, An' yer Mum can't afford new shoes every time you ruin 'em wi' all that salt water" "I'll take 'em off !" "Tell yer what then - we walk the proper route and I'll tell yer a story" "OK, what about ?" "The mystery of Simpson's water tower" "WOW ! YEAHER !!"

"Wunce up honor time, when we wus fighting the Jerries - one of they're hairyplanes only just managed to not crash into the tower, only the pilot" "Wow, what happened ?" "Well the plane wus burning, an' the crew 'ad all jumped over Kingstown, pilot keeps going, but 'is engines conked. Well 'E still 'ad a bomb on board so 'E thinks to 'Imself, ‘ello! time to jump." "Was he alright ?" Well, 'E landed 'Isself a bit too ‘ard aginst the tower, busting a few bones. 'Is bomb blew 'arf the slope off the hill" "Did he live then" "Aye, 'an 'Es still ‘ere. After the war most of the prisoners went back ter Gerryland, but a few stayed 'ere. Some got married to our lasses, rather than go back. We made 'em welcome, they werent all Nasties. A lot of our own lads werent comin' 'ome either. Me own brother married a Mamselle, sends us pictures. That's war fer yer"

The two were passing the Council Chambers and decided to sit in the rose garden for a few minutes. "So what's the mystery then ?" "Oh aye, well it were me what found 'im, so I thought I see 'ow 'E fared. At first the Nurses wouldn't let me in as 'E were a prisoner of war, so I told 'm it was me official duty, haha ! they couldn't argue no more. Poor divil dint even remember who 'E was. When they sent 'im off ter Simpson’s, we kept in touch. 'E could do much work just 'elped out a bit in the kitchen. Said 'is memory was coming back, and the last thing 'Ed seen at the crash scene was a Dragon's tail sticking out of the Hill" At which the boy's jaw dropped, just as Purdie stepped through the rosebushes.

"Oh Hello you two, I was just getting a few rose cuttings, thought I heard voices". She turned pink, even stranger she held no cuttings, just a bakers bag, from which she drew three goodly slices of jammy cream cake. Which they ate in silence. Having walked a little further they parted "Thank You for finding him so quickly this time Sergeant, he'll get his tea AND a bath tonight." "Aye, looks like 'E needs both" "Will you tell me a story about the dragon next time, Mr Grantham, Pleeease ?" "See yer at the lighthouse termorrer then" t'Otherwith Boy grasped Purdie’s hand, the three of them grinning and waving byeee.

TO BE REVISITED

Yes, I Author !

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