Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology Read online

  Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved

  Anthology Creator: Louise Rogers-Thomas

  Cover Design provided by: JC Clarke

  ** Warning **

  This content is for mature audiences only.

  Please don’t not read if explicit language, violence, sexual situations offend you.

  All stories in this anthology are the work of fiction, any names, places, characters and other things that are mentioned in this book are the result of the authors imagination.

  Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved

  Content

  My Sweet GI by T.L. Wainwright

  Wounded Hero by Ava Manello

  Wrecked by T.A Mckay

  Dearest Betty by M.B. Feeney

  Leaving Home by Alyvia Paige

  Never Forget Him by Tracy Lorraine

  The Flyboy’s Girl by Michelle Rene

  Battle Ground by Skye Turner

  No Beginning by Sam Destiny

  Man Down by Alice La Roux

  Riding Out The Storm by Lucy Felthouse

  Hunter by S. M Phillips

  Chopper (Broken Deeds MC #4.5) by Esther E. Schmidt

  The Do-Gooder And The Dropout by Bella Settarra

  Outranked in Love by JF Holland

  Thank You

  My Sweet GI

  by

  T.L. Wainwright

  Blurb

  When a handsome WWII, American pilot called Teddy stepped into the local corner shop in search of candy, sweet and unassuming Jenny’s world went from boring to breath-taking. But with war threatening to put an end to their budding romance, there time together became precious, forcing them to live for the moment.

  “All we have of freedom, all we use or know - this our fathers bought for us long and long ago.”

  Rudyard Kipling

  “A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.”

  Joseph Campbell

  Chapter One

  “I’m off Mam,” Jenny shouted as she stood in the hallway tying up the laces of her boring old black, flat shoes. The toes were scuffed and dull, so she pulled her cotton hanky from her pocket, spat on it, then quickly ran it across the well-worn leather.

  “Jennifer Carter, make sure you come straight home after work,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Don’t be gallivanting around with that Nora.” Jenny could hear her mother muttering under her breath. She couldn’t make out what she was actually saying, but she had a good idea. Something in the line of ‘Harlot’ or ‘Jezebel’ and a few other biblical words for a woman with loose morals. Jenny’s mam didn’t swear. If you used blasphemous words, she believed the lord would strike you dumb, so that you would never speak again. If that was the case, Nora would have been silenced years ago.

  Jenny’s mum Gladys doesn’t care for Nora, who happens to be Jenny’s best friend. Don’t get me wrong, she had other more casual friends, but with Nora, they’d been best friends since infant school.

  Gladys just thinks she’s a bad influence and in some ways, Jenny can see why. Nora has a right mouth on her. She’s not the type of person that thinks before she speaks and some of the stuff she comes out with, well it would make a sailor blush. She wasn’t in the slightest bit shy either, and if she wanted something, then she’d bloody well get it. Not a bad thing in general, but when it came to the opposite sex, then the other women of the village thought it scandalous. Many a time, Nora had walked straight up to a man and asked them out on a date. Women’s equality? Maybe, but with Nora, more likely a case of impatience.

  Jenny was in ore of Nora, herself a little quiet, most people describing her as a shy, well-mannered and polite girl. A credit to her upstanding parents, who were members of the church, and her mother on the village committee. She hated all that straight-laced rubbish. Jenny wished she could be more like Nora, standing on her own two feet, confident and not scared to take a risk or two. But whenever she was in the position to do that, the image of her mam would appear in her head, a face like a slapped bum, and a mouth like she was sucking on a sherbet pip.

  Jenny grabbed her jacket from the peg and got out quickly, closing the door behind her without even answering. That way, it looked like she hadn’t heard her mam’s ramblings, which meant that in theory, she wouldn’t be breaking the rules when she met Nora as usual. That’s what she told herself anyway.

  Jenny made her way towards her work place. It’s only a ten-minute walk to get to the grocery shop, that she’d worked in since she was fifteen and still at school. It was just weekends back then, but when school was done, Mrs Armitage the owner, or Betty as she preferred Jenny to call her, asked her if she would work for her on a permanent basis. Mam was under the impression she would go into a more respected profession, and had tried to push her towards secretarial school or nursing, but Jenny for once, had put up a fight and in this instance, had won. She loved working with Mrs Armitage, and felt a sense of loyalty to the widowed shop owner. The shop was an important part of the community, as it was the only one in the village. Which meant that it stocked everything from salt to sweeping brushes. Mrs Armitage prided herself on being able to supply whatever the customer wanted. Rations permitting of course.

  Pushing the heavy wooden door open, the ting of the bell that hung just above the frame, announced Jenny’s arrival.

  “Hello, Mrs Armitage,” Jenny sang out in her usual cheery manor.

  “Morning Jenny,” Ms. Doris Ramsbottom replied, before Betty could get a word in.

  Doris is the village gossip. It’s no great surprise that even though it’s quite mild out this morning, she’s dressed in her usual thick brown wool coat, with a navy head scarf covering her grey wiry hair and tied securely under her chin. It made her face look extremely round and her cheeks are littered with purply red veins. Her lips are pursed into a thin line and her wool mitten covered fists, are curled up and resting on her hips.

  “It’s a disgrace. We don’t need the likes of them no good Yankee soldiers in our village. Why don’t they send them to one of the big army bases down south? Why here in our tiny little village? They’re going to be nothing but trouble, you mark my words.”

  Jenny glanced over to Betty, who is dressed in a pale blue tea dress that is one of her own creations. Her auburn hair set in soft curls that frame her face and flows long at the back. She rolled her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, while Doris is busy testing the firmness of the crust on the freshly baked bread that’s laid out on the counter.

  “Does your mother know about this Jenny?” Doris asks, suddenly turning her attention to her.

  “Sorry Ms. Ramsbottom, I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Didn’t you hear all the commotion last night?” she huffs. “Must have been near on five hundred of the buggers, and the noise, it was enough to wake the dead.”

  “I didn’t hear a thing,” pipes up Betty.

  “Me neither,” Jenny adds.

  “Mm! Well that does surprise me. Rumour has it, that they are taking over Harpers farm.”

  “Well that’s not even in the village, that’s Halswood not Elington.” Betty adds.

  “Yes, but I bet they’ll be looking for the nearest pub and guess what?” She crosses her arms just under her large bosoms, which only made them look even bigger. “Our pub, is in walking distance.”

  “It’s miles away Doris, I’d hardl
y call that walking distance.”

  “Maybe not,” she retorts, “but they’ll be whizzing around in them monstrous army vehicles, inebriated, running amuck and…”

  “I’m sure that Constable Winchester will take care of any problems that arise,” Betty says, cutting Doris off, her voice a little louder than usual. “Now, have you remembered your ration book Doris?”

  Jenny slipped behind the counter and through to the short, narrow hallway that leads into the back room. Removing her jacket, she pops it on the peg, next to where the crisp white apron that Betty insisted she wears is hung. Pulling it over her head, she smoothed it down over her red dress, before securing it around her waist with a double bow.

  The dress she had on today was lovely, another product of Betty’s handiwork. Most of Jenny’s clothes were Betty’s cast-offs, and she counted her lucky stars that they were both of similar height, size and shape. In fact, they could quite easily be mistaken as sisters. Never would she have been able to afford to dress so nicely, if it hadn’t been for Betty’s kind generosity. Some items she had given her, she had to sneak into the house and felted them in her bedroom, as her mam would never approve of their more risqué style. Betty’s impeccable sewing skills meant that she only had to take a quick glance at one of the latest styles in a glossy magazine, and she’d be recreating it in a flash. Jenny thought it was amazing, as she herself, couldn’t sew a button on. Baking was definitely her skill.

  Jenny couldn’t help but revisit the conversation between Doris and Betty. American soldiers, just outside the village. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. Nora was going to be over the moon and be getting herself into all sorts of trouble. By the time she goes back through to the shop, after putting the kettle on to boil, rinsing the teapot and putting two cup and saucers out ready. All she sees is the back of Doris, stomping out and slamming the door behind her.

  “Oh! What’s got her knickers in a twist?” Jenny can barely keep the smirk off her face.

  “She’s convinced that the Yankee’s are the spawn of Satan himself and are going to drag us all to hell.”

  “No wonder she gets on with me mam,” Jenny sniggers. “What do you think Betty?”

  Jenny only called Mrs. Armitage by her first name when they were alone in the shop. To do so in front of others, seemed a little disrespectful, her being her employer and all. Truth be, Betty was like a second mam to her, and although she did care for her mother, Betty was much more… with the times.

  “I think that most of them are young lads far from home, the least we can do is make them feel welcome. When it comes down to the nitty gritty, this war, well, we’re all batting for the same side.”

  “Why do you think they’re coming here though?”

  “I’m not sure love, maybe they’re already full to bursting in the south and they’ve got to put them somewhere.”

  “Do you think they will come into the Village?”

  “What’s with all the questions?” Bettys voice wasn’t harsh, because she could never be that way with Jenny. “Is that the kettle I hear whistling?” she added raising an eyebrow.

  Jenny grinned, did a twirl, then trotted off back through the doorway to go make the tea.

  Betty shakes her head at the girl that keeps her young. She loves Jenny like she’s her own. Betty never had children, never got the chance. Her husband of only eighteen months, had gone missing in action, presumed dead. He was her one true love, childhood sweetheart, and it had been the hardest and scariest experience when he enlisted.

  Betty still remembers to this day, the feeling of dread she felt when she’d waved him off at the station. It was as if she’d known that it would be the very last time she’d see him. The loss of him still laid heavy on her, every minute of every hour, every day of every week for the past six years. She hadn’t been short of offers from eligible men. She’d even had some unwanted attention from some not so eligible men. At only thirty-one, she was an attractive woman and was quite a catch being a shop owner an all. But she could never bring herself to be with another man, at least not while her heart still ached so deeply for her William.

  Jenny walked back up front slowly, so not to spill the tea that she was carrying. “I’ve been thinking?” she announces, not once taking her eyes off the cups. “What about making the back room into a café?” she placed the cups onto the shop counter, then rubbed the palms of her hands nervously down the front of her apron.

  “A café?” Betty laughed. “What for? It will only encourage Doris into spending more time in her moidering me.”

  “Sorry, your right, probably a silly idea.” Jenny’s head dropped disheartened.

  “Mmm. No, come on then, tell me what you’re thinking.” Betty sighed, giving Jenny’s arm an encouraging squeeze.

  “It’s just that, the room is so big and it’s a bit of a waste. If you moved the boxes into the cellar, cleaned it up a bit. Three or four tables with chairs, you could sell tea, cakes and… it’s somewhere other than the pub, where the Yankee’s could go.”

  “If what the papers say is true, the American’s drink coffee, not tea. The only coffee I can get readily is that bloody awful ‘Camp Coffee’. I can’t see that going down well. Cakes? I know how to make bread, but never been any good at baking.”

  “I can bake. Mam taught me, she says that every mother should at least know how to make a birthday cake for their kid.”

  Betty’s face dropped. Jenny didn’t miss it.

  “Bugger! Sorry Betty, I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s fine. Maybe your right, maybe we should make something of that room. I could ask the Vicar if he could lend me a couple of tables and a few chairs. With the one we have already in there, and the spare I have in the cellar…”

  Chapter Two

  Jenny and Betty had the back room up and running before the first American Soldier came to the village. However, the cafe was not what they were looking for.

  Every night, the pub was full to bursting with khaki keggs, brown leather jackets, peeked caps, and those folding flat hats that were tucked into pockets as they entered.

  The village response was mixed. The landlord was as happy as a pig in mud, but the church goers where mortified, including Jenny’s mother. Fortunately, Gladys was unaware of the reasoning behind the addition to the shop, and for the better. Not that it mattered anyway, no soldiers had stepped over the threshold.

  Until one particular day that is.

  The bell tinged, as the edge of the door hit the bell, and Jenny turned to greet the shopper. Her eyes almost popped out of her head, the heat and colour to her cheeks instant, as her eyes fell onto the tall, American pilot that stood right at the other side of the counter. When he pulled off his hat, you could see the short crop of corn coloured hair.

  “Good afternoon ma’am. Do you have any candy?”

  “Erm!” Jenny took a couple of steps back, bringing her back hard up against the shelved wall.

  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” He held up his hand in submission. “I just want to buy some candy.”

  “Sorry.” Jenny snapped out of her shock. “I… I… you mean spice, you want some sweets, chocolate, boiled sweets.”

  “Boiled sweets?” his laugh is deep and masculine. The way he talked with a strange twang to his voice, sent all sorts of sensations racing around her body and leaves her a little breathless.

  Jenny pulled one of only three sweet jars from under the counter. Sweets were rationed, but Betty always seemed to have a little bit extra put to one side.

  “Is this what you mean?” Jenny tips the jar and lets a couple of oval fruit sweets roll onto the metal scoop.

  “Yes, hard candy,” his smile curled up at little more at one side, and you’d be blind to miss the pearly white, perfectly straight teeth that illuminate his face. He took one and popped it into his mouth. “Damn, that is so good,” he groaned in approval, his vivid blue eyes connected with Jenny’s, as he
sucked on the fruity sweetness. “You can only chew on so much gum before it makes you gag. I’ll take a bag. How much do I owe you?”

  “I can only let you have a few, they’re rationed you see and the shop owner, well, she’s not here at the moment.”

  “That’s okay sweetheart, I’ll take whatever you can give me.” He gave Jenny another heart stopping smile. “Besides, it only means I’m going to have to come back and see you again,” he finished with a wink.

  Blushing, Jenny weighed out two ounces onto the scales, then shook a few more out making it up to four. Bugger that, she’d give up her own rations if she had to, to make up for it. Folding the top of the bag over a couple of times, she held it out over the counter. His hand came around hers, and held it a little longer than necessary, before retrieving the bag of goodies. In return, he placed the flat of his palm against hers, as he drops a few shiny pennies into her hand. The warmth of his touch tingled against her skin.

  “Honey, I think you just saved my life.” He bounced the bag in his hand a couple of times, before he turned towards the door.

  “Do you like tea?” Jenny sputtered out. Stopping in his tracks, he turned back around to face her.

  “I’m more of a coffee drinker, why do you ask?”

  “We have a café, in the back. If ever you, or your friends fancy… you know, tea and cake, then the café… it’s through there,” she pointed to the back.