WINGED YOUTH

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 277, 22 November 1934, Page 26

WINGED YOUTH

By CAPT. FRANK. H. SHAW.

CHAPTER Xll.—(continned.) Nerves—And The Pilot.

The room at the Superior had limitations, and the hunger for a home of their own grew, especially in Betty, and she convinced Peter that the acme of happiness could be found only In some kind of a house. Accordingly they ran out to Consigne; and found it was like most aircraft works—a bit isolated; though at Lingsworth, ten miles away, a quite formidable colony of people were collecting. Peter reported himself to the works manager and was received with the impressive admiration due to his prowess—and when he said that he and liis wife needed a house, Mr. Maegrcgor, whose brother had been opportunist enough to start a house-agency at Lingsworth as soon as he saw tiie Zutro works take shape, accompanied them to Lingsworth and delivered them over to that brother with his special recommendation and a quiet wink that informed the commercial brother that here were pigeons ready for the plucking.

"Ay, these jerry-built bungalows an' such, they're no' for a gentleman o' substance like yourscl', Air. Graddock," said John Maegrcgor. "Your guid lady'd Im3 sore an' sick wi' the best o' them inside a month, when the paper's dried on the walls an' the structure's tumblin' doon for need o' pertinacity. But there's a bit of property —hand 011, I'll show ye the auction catalogue." The Towers was a semi-derelict mansion of considerable pretensions. The run of Bungalow Town to its wall had destroyed most of its amenities, certainly; but to both Peter and Betty it seemed a house of dreams. There was a garden—ah, but a garden! There was even an outsize billiardroom that could be used for dancing; all alcove offered foundations for an ideal cocktail bar. Peter, whoso idea of making good to the chagrin of his critical father, was to establish himself similarly to that father, thought the place was a "perfect knockout."

"Think of Mickey getting strong and straight in this garden!" Peter urged. "Him, too —I could rig up a swing under this tree. It isn't as if we were paupers, exactly; and think of getting the old crowd out for a house-warming!"

"Think of the servants it'll need," demurred Betty.

Peter knew of four at his old home, [ which impressed him as being at least as big as The Towers. So four would be ample. As for the garden—well, a man to clean the car and run the garden— couple of quid a week, say—that was nothing. His pay as a test-pilot wasn't enormous, but the balance in the bank was quite enough to warrant a bit of launching out. "There'll be another flight—with prize-money," he glowingly asserted. "That's the best of this job —there arc plums to be picked up. Anyway, we owe it to ourselves to make a decent start." "Don't forget it has to be furnished," said Betty. They bought The Towers at its ridiculously trifling price; and their real troubles began from that moment. Not that they recognised them as troubles at first. Cleaning up and furnishing the house was a great adventure; they were victimised on every hand, notwithstanding Betty's native shrewdness. She and Peter spent bewildering days in London, buying furniture and carpets —they found the ideal equipment for the littlo cocktail bar which it seemed criminal to miss at the price. Peter seemed to live in a wJiirl of chequesigning; but as he never filled in the counterfoils he never paused to wonder how long the balance in hand would

They decided at first just to furnish to their immediate requirements; but then it occurred to Peter that week-end parties would be rather a good notion, hid they furnished seven bedrooms, plus tho domestic quarters. Whilst all this was going 'on they lived at the Spread Eagle at Boiling-ton, which was the favourite resort of the flying crowd from Sonsigne, and also a rendezvous for the R.A.F. Depot. After tho first mad flush of buying was over Peter reported for duty at the Zutro works. "The very man I've been hoping for," said Macgregor. "You might take that new Zutro Vulture up and try her out, Mister Craddoek; she's inclined to be a bit fiery, they say, but your verdict will bo appreciated." Peter got into working kit. He was not going to crash, of course, and leave Betty and the unborn infant all alone —practically unprovided for. Xot he. What ho wanted was to feel the sensation of victory and power reassert itself. In the air, with the stick of a Zutro between his hands, he'cl 'be able to laugh at certain apprehensions. Macgregor invited him to examine an engine on the test-bench, of exactly similar type to that in the

Vulture; and the examination was heartening. Here were power and elasticity enough to gladden the soul of even the most critical. Peter lost himself in real admiration of an efficient job of work.

And, watching the bench-tests, the old hot flying-tlirill returned to him fullforced; the intoxication of speed that was almost madness, the reckless sense of more than human power which makes the airman's keenest emotion. WJiat did a crash matter, lie thought, if you were doing a man's job when you hit the ground? Life wasn't worth a thing if you weren't making use of it —it wasn't what you took out of it that mattered, it was what you put into it. The deep drono of the engine seemed to issue a definite challenge. "She's as far ahead of the Pup engine as that was ahead of any competitors," said Maegrcgor enthusiastically. "I believe you, Mr. Macgregor! How about a flip, then? If you're wanting it tried out " "That's the style; we'll put this vcrra engine into a bus and ye shall test it all ways ye can think of." There wcro the inevitable delays and the flight was impossible that day. During the night Peter dreamed that he was crashing, and wakened up moaning, in a sweat. In the darkness, with Betty hugged close—'her arm about his neck, cheek on his shoulder, fear wakened .and clawed at him. Three in the morning fear, that cramps the soul and leaves the diaphragm lifted out of place, this waa —the sort of fear that derides further attempts at sleep. When he was sure Betty was asleep again, Peter slid out of bed and crept up to where tlie Ibrandy was stowed —emergency stock, in the event of Betty suffering from another fainting turn.

Ho got another drain before starting the car 011 its way to the works. That helped. The old zestfulncss reared up its head. Ho was itching to be up and oif. Scared? Nonsense!

Once up, tho fierce delight returned. Tlio fine exaltation of power above that vouchsafed to the ordinary mortal thrilled tho boy. Up here 110 was master of his destiny and captain of his soul! His previous dreams of achievement returned. He'd volunteer for that double hop—he'd suggest trying it with a Zutro Vulture by way of showing the world just what sort of a bus England could put into the air. This ecstasy of speed was inspiring; he felt a giant. Ho threw a double loop in sheer ecstasy of relief; and the Vulture answered his every call on it as sweetly as a typewriter. He ran across a couplo of sleek English counties until the sea rose before him, shimmering and serene; 110 stunted in the air over tho whitely gleaming coast resorts; and but for tho warning of his gauges would have carried on till dark.

"Sho pleases ye?" gloated Mr. Macgregor. Peter enthused in a. sobeied way, understanding that his opinion mattered; just as his father's opinion carried weight in the graver affairs of life. Twenty-one, eh? Well, he might bo a boy on the ground, but up in the air he was a giant! He whirled into the towers like a cyclone. Betty was overseeing the stretching of a carpet that had cost a miniature fortune, for the house was not yet ready for occupation. She saw from a glance at the boy's face that something had happened—he was Hushed and radiant. She put a sudden hand to a heart that seemed to have missed a beat. If Peter had been chosen for another epic adventure she would attempt to put 110 obstacle in his way; just as. she had inspired him for that initial hop, eo would she cheer him 011 and on—sacrificing her own peace of mind with tiue womanly abnegation. But she hoped— she hoped there needn't be another; net yet, not until this child had come to companion her in case—just in case. Disregarding the carpet layers, Peter danced around her. "Cheers —loud cheers!" ho enthused. "Cut away from here and let's make a riot. I feel like a million and a half!"

"What is it?" she wanted to know. Peter acted up to her best expectations; hugging her close and swinging her over the floor despite her protests. "My nerve's back —everything's going to be" 0.K.!" he assured her; and the quick wave of relief she felt helped her to share his enthusiasm without restraint. Peter had kept that latent dread of his secret even from her; it wasn't the sort of thing a man mentioned; but now he burst out with tho whole story. He was seared he had lost his flying nerve. "Worth a celebration, isn't it?" he demanded. Betty agreed. Life went on like that, then. It didn't really matter, when the total bills came in that the cost was colossal; there was enough in the bank to meet it, and plenty more to be earned. One result

of their work was to make the grounds a miniature Paradise, and the kids, vhen introduced to its splendours, went half crazy, so that was' certainly worth while, especially as Betty shared their delight.

There were unexpected expenses that caused them for a moment to wonder if they hadn't stretched things a bit too far, too; a lot of rates and taxes—income tax people demanding a slab of Peter's prize-money, for instance, since they claimed it as earnings arising out of the course of his employment. That hadnt been expected; just as a dozen other things hadn't been expected. The car was a pretty costly luxury, too —but how on earth could Peter expect to the works in time in a slower, less expensive bus? A business expense, that car, if ever there was one.

They had found a cook who seemed to melt gold down to make gravy. Betty had espostulated but had been routed by a deep-bosomed woman who had eooked for Royalty and made Betty feel like an ignorant little guttersnipe. Her limited education had not adapted her for tho handling of viragoes of this stamp, and more than once Peter, returning from the works, found his wife in tears.

Girls at the Hot Spot discovered Betty's whereabouts, having been brought to call by cxcited youngsters, and they wrote to her asking for financial help when the rent of their homes fell overdue. To bo sure, life brought lots of problems to Mr. and Mrs. Peter Craddock!

Inevitably there were little quarrels— ill which Betty held to the opinion that reter had begun to regret his hastiness, that he was wishing he'd married a girl of his own class. These quarrels developed into annoying coolnesses and sarcasms—such as the girls of the Hot Spot were accustomed to employ in theiv more tragic moments. Not that this hasty marriage even threatened shipwreck; Peter continued overwhelmingly in lovo with Betty; and in his big, lumbering good-natured way—for he was

good-natured cxccpt when really crossed, as his father had crossed him —he bore with her tantrums satisfactorily. He apologised for offending her, even when he knew himself innocent. He had aged a lot in theso few months, though; he was beginning to take life with some seriousness. At times, that is.

Probably it was the outlay as compared with the income that sobered him. As the times grew leaner, people began to present their tyills. Mickey, complaining of increasing pain, brought on by too much activity in that delicious garden, had to see a local doctor who advised a specialist, who advised operation in a nursing home and a long convalescence. All this cost money— quite a lot to one who had flung his prize money away carelessly, and was now earning a test pilot's wage. When they grew alarmed—this was after a noisy party had spent most of Sunday and Sunday night with them, drinking unconcernedly and feasting as lavishlv —Peter said:

"I know what I'll do. I'll ask Sir Cardwell if he's game to let me try that double-hop across the Atlantic — advertisement for the Vulture. I can do it on my head; the bus is quite capable. We ought to rake in a goodish bit if the stunt comes off." Betty shivered and went white. She had been comparing Peter with the racketty crowd who had danced and made ructions in the big room with the cocktail bar, and Peter stood the comparison well. "Not yet," she said. "Not until after —you know." Peter was rather glad she vetoed his suggestion. Once or twice, whilst taking up repaired 'planes or new,' uncertain inventions, he had found himself meditating over the chances of a fluky landing. And though a couple of quick drinks at the canteen prior to going up, lulled such apprehensions, they had a trick of returning when the effect of the alcohol wore off; and twice already Macgregor had looked suspiciously at him when he climbcd into a cockpit and made contact. "Oh, right-o," he replied to Betty's veto, "I'd hate anything, to happen "to you." Of course they were far from desperate. There was, money in the bank; and Peter's pay almost covered the housekeeping expenses, if you left out the wine bill and oddments for which one could always obtain practically unlimited credit.

(To be continued daily.)

Author of "The Haven of "