WINGED YOUTH

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 7 March 1935, Page 2

WINGED YOUTH

I. by f FRANK H. SHAW (Author of “The Haven of Desire/*etc.)

CHAPTER XIV. (Continued.)

During following days Peter wrote to various aeronautical firms, offering himself in an advisory capacity, mentioning his record and his willingness to undertake any flight, no matter how scn-| sational. So,me of the firms replied, saving they would keep the suggestion handy, in case of developments arising. Others ignored his letters. He wrote to newspa.pers, too, offering to write about flying, since he remembered the comfortable sums granted to him previously—just for the use of his name signed to articles written by trained scribes. His letters were so ungrammatical that they caused editorial eyebrows to lift.

"Craddock?” said one editor. "Craddock? I seem to know the name, somehow—did he do something?” That babble reputation was evanescent.

Sir (Sardwell Hanson regretted that his firm contemplated' no further spectacular work; but would bear Peter’s application in mind for future reference. Peter went and saw the magnate. "Don’t you think you owe me. a square deal, sir?” he demanded. "I did a lot to put the Zutro on the map.” "Splendid; so you did, Craddock. And wo paid you handsomely for it, I seem to remember.”

"Oh, well, yes, sir, Pm not denying that; but—what I mean—l’d got the notion that I was sort of —sort of a member of the firm, in a way.” "My dear fellow, we are fuming away dozens of men who never had a chance to win a prize, of the size you won; men who have nothing saved; who will have to go on the dole; and we’re powerless to help ourselves. We can’t afford to maintain ornamental members.” Ornamental! That was a good one. Peter stopped trying after that. The worst of it was; tradespeople who’d been forgotten, so reluctant were they to present their accounts when Peter was successful, now had surprising reincarnations. It was as if a malignant whisper had' gone the rounds that the Craddocks were up against it; as if a conspiracy were afoot to add to their anxieties.

Solicitors’ letters flowed in. Peter burnt them, because they annoyed him; he did not know enough to take them seriously. "I know what I’ll do,” Peter said, on the day he returned from his final day at the Works. "I’ll go and be a joyride pilot at Sealforth. Earn a spot of cash for an occasional beano, eh? Who said we’d make a botch of'it? Hot I, for one!” ‘ ‘And the sea-air will do Baby any amount of good, too,” Betty agreed. "We can close this place altogether —and go slow, eh? I know you’re horribly worried. An appalling bounder of a man came to-day wanting umpteen pounds in a hurry—a rate or something. I said you’d send a cheque, but he tried to pretend he’d been told not to leave without the cash.” Peter felt suddenly sick. There’d been a letter only that morning from the bank to remind him that his account was still severely overdrawn, and that the manager would be glad to see it placed in credit at once. All that cash g onc —incredible! No further cheques, the notice intimatec]* could be .met until the matter was adjusted.

‘ ‘ Look here,” he said, concealing that sick desperation, "how if we sell this warehouse, lock stock and barrel; yes, furniture and everything—it’s miles too big, anyway?” Betty opened her eyes, alive to the desperate tone of his young voice. "Peter, just how do -we stand?” she wanted to know.

"Busted, just about —no use shirking it now. Cleaned out. I didn’t want to worry you, but there’s hardly a shot in the locker.” 4 "Can’t you—raise money on the house and things?”

He reluctantly explained the working of that infernal mortgage. Betty admitted that it was a mess, and was aghast to see Peter suddenly crumple up in a chair and sob. His nerves were raw and he hadn’t helped them by carrying an unsupported load so long. "I could ask the pater to lend a hand,” he half-whimpered. "It would mean eating humble-pie, of course, but sooner than have you and the others starving, I’ll do that.” "If you go to your father now, you’ll blame me for it later on; and everything’ll go phutt between us,” she stated, more, convincingly than the slang would lead one to suppose. "It would be off my own bat,” he countered, surprised at her tone. "No, it wouldn’t.” A firm headshake accompanied tne contradiction. "But for me—us —you’a scratch along for yourself, wouldn’t you? So it would only be me tnat’d cause you to oat humble-pie; and you’d never forget it. It wouldn’t seem much at first, but first doesn’t last for ever. Let’s face this together, shall wo?” She snuggled her soft hand into his paint as if already prepared to accompany him to face the execution-squad. "You told him you’d win, Pete —and if you weaken you’ll give him the laugh.”

It didn’t sound heroic, but in Betty’s way it was. Mistakenly so, perhaps, but she had a blind instinct that she was fighting to retain her boy, who 1 was Michael’s father and her own wonderful property.

"Oh, right-o! I don’t see just how, though. Things are simply too grim. "Let’s dig right down and see how we stand then not .pretending anything fine is going to happen.” They dug down and after a while both their faces were white and their eyes showed fright.

“J’U bike off to Sealforth right-off

and see if they'll take me on,” offered Peter. "Some of these pilots picked up a tenner a week, and the holiday season isn’t over yet.” "Ye-es; it might be as well.” A tenner a week and hundreds and hundreds of pounds of debts to clear up! "How about a spot before I start? And you’ll come, too?” Betty bit her lip. "Suppose wo start by washing out spots from now on?” she recommended. "We’ve spent a [small fortune on ‘spots’ since we started together.” "Oh, well; but there’s a half-bottle broken into; and a cocktail isn’t either here -or there.” They had the cocktail. “There’s -n-hat's left of -what I won at Monte, of course,” Betty said over the rim of her glass. "That’ll go into the heap, naturally. I’m glad it’s there —I feel I’m not such a passenger when 'l’m able to pull an oar.” "’Fraid there’s nothing of that. You put it into my account, do yon remember? It just sort of—kind of—got mixed.” Betty felt as if a lot of security had departed from her at that admission; she had comforted herself with the thought of that sheet-anchor to wind’ard, her Monte Carlo loot. "Of course —I might have known,” she said. "You gave me money just when I asked; for it.” Not even an edge of acidity to her tone! She was rising to her emergency with a rare I fineness of spirit.

"Sorry —very slack of me,” apologised Peter. Ho had a feeling that he wished his father could see Betty now. "Whatever we do, we’ve got to stand on our own feet. Bet’s go and see what’s offering at Sealforth, then.” They went. Peter was told that if he liked to work on a commission basis —a percentage on takings, he could start as soon as lie liked. A condition was that his appointment should be publicised, since the holiday-making world had not yet forgotten that he was the renowned world-flier.

"Yon can sky-write it if you like,” said Peter, amazingly relieved. They went back in a more hopeful frame of mind. They resolved to sell the ear, using the proceeds to liquidate certain embarassmonts.

"We can try to let this place furnished,” recommended Betty; but when, next day, they used the ear for a final rally, they discovered the house-agents were pessimistic. People weren’t wanting big, unhandy houses nowadays; they wanted something small, easily-run. There simply wasn’t “any money about.

"How about selling the whole infernal bag o’ tricks?” asked Peter. The agent scented useful commissions'. It could, he tnought, be offered at auction, Not that property of that type was fetching anything like its proper value; and if he remembered rightly, Peter had got it ridiculously cheap. "Sell the lot!” said Peter recklessly. "Furniture and all!”

The car had to be sold at a colossal loss because of the need for immediate cash; there wouldn’t be anything left even to buy a second-hand two-seater, tfiey thought. People felt idiotic without a car; but Betty thought that if they got accommodation near to the flying-field at Sealforth, the question of transport would not arise. Taking one thing with another, youth was facing its obligations none so badly. CHAPTER XV. PETER CRASHES.

Actually, when everything was squared up, Peter’s finances came out about even. On the day when that result was announced Peter crashed his joy-riding ’plane into the sea. It was not his fault, the bus had been overworked, of course; because of Peter’s popularity as a pilot, he was in constant demand. He had worked tirelessly—flying for hours and hours; and the managers had no objections to raise, since much flying brought grist to their mill. Peter was honestly putting his back into labour, spurred on now not so much by his petulantly boyish idea of proving his worth to his father—as by a wish to give Betty the best of everything within his power. His character was taking shape. They had cut out the hectic life; it shook Peter’s flying nerve for one thing, and it ran away with the money for another. There was, they discovered in this new sobriety, a lot to do with very small means.

Betty planned skilfully. Rooms were eostlv, sinee seasonal prices were still in vogue, and accommodation for the kiddies had to be got; after finding that the budget would not balance during several weeks, Belt;' took a furnished bungalow and ran it, herself; making shift to cook and clean, unaided. She confessed, when Peter grumbled at her busyness, that she was infinitely happier doing things herself than entreating too-dignified, servants to do it for her.

So the crisis seemed to bo tiding over when Peter made an unexpected nosedive into green water. Beyond minor abrasions he was unharmed, and his passenger received only a hair-raising scare. Seven speed-boats made a race to the rescue; and the winner hauled the two drenched men into safety just before the ’plane’s engine pulled the crate under. Betty, taking Michael for a breather in the perambulator, saw the happening and began to run —her mouth open to allow her labouring lungs freer air. She knew the silvered machine as well as she knew her own piquant reflection in the flyblown mirror of the bedroom.

She knew again that Peter, with all liis petulances, meant more to her than ever she had imagined possible. But

when she reached the sea-front people were cheering and slapping backs, just as if they had effected the rescue, and the winner of the race was creaming back in line style. Betty leaned against the rails, gasping to herself: “I must not faint! I ‘won’t faint—Peter’ll be needing me!” She surrendered Michael, solemn as an owl, to a neighbourly woman, and the magnanimity of a crowd pushed her forward to welcome Peter back.

She wanted to clutch him and' gloat over him; but she had learnt how to keep her fiercer emotions in check. She wanted to drop on her knees and return vague thanks to a vaguer Being; but when Peter scrambled ashore, she only said:

■^Oh—or—hello, old thing!” as if he were merely returning from a commonplace stunt.

‘ 1 I’ve got to get out of these duds— I’m drenched!” gasped Peter. “I swallowed half the North Sea I fancy'.” He congratulated his passenger on safe delivery and iiired a taxi to take himself and Betty' home. Ho said nothing to his wife of the sick horror that had oppressed him when ho knew the crash was inevitable. “Hope this doesn’t mean us going on the dole!” he mumbled. Next day, after a broken night, he felt indisposed to report at the flyingfield.

“I must have got more of a shake-up than I thought,” he apologised to Betty', and when she recommended sleep and quiet, drawing the, curtains to ensure it, Peter bit his pillow and let the waves of raw fear surge through him. Time after time he recapitulated the terror-stricken moments of that crash. He held his breath, awaiting the impact; and he feared that he w'Ould alway'S be holding his breath in precisely' that way.