Eagle Day - Robert Muchamore Page 0,50

Paul said furiously, as he stumbled up. ‘That’s not funny.’

‘Looked pretty damned funny from where I’m kneeling,’ Marc grinned.

A few metres away PT had performed a similar stunt with Rosie. But Rosie was no pushover and they whipped about in the grass until PT straddled Rosie’s thighs. Once they were face to face she relaxed her upper body and cracked a smile.

‘That was a mean trick,’ she said, but with an expression that showed she thought it was actually kind of cute.

PT felt a blast of lust as he closed in to kiss Rosie’s lips. Although Paul and Marc were only a couple of metres away, the dark and the tall grass gave them privacy. Savouring the moment, PT paused with his lips millimetres from Rosie’s and moved his hand up her chest to cup the bottom of her breast.

But the boys weren’t the only ones who could play a trick and the instant PT’s weight shifted off her thighs Rosie brought her knee up, hitting him hard in the kidneys.

‘Arsehole,’ Rosie hissed, as PT groaned with pain. She bunched her fist and thumped him in the eye before rolling him away. ‘This isn’t a game you know, you goddamn moron.’

It wouldn’t have been appropriate for PT to hit back at a girl, but this was academic because as Rosie stormed back towards home he was rolling around in the grass, howling like a wounded dog and seeing nothing but blurs of light from his right eye.

Paul grinned proudly as Marc gave PT a hand up.

‘Henderson’s right, you know,’ Paul laughed. ‘My sister has a crush on you.’definitely

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Paul liked his daily walk down to the beach. After heading off the farm, he crossed the heavily trafficked coast road and found the chalky stone path with reed beds on either side. You didn’t get to see the water until you’d walked up a slight cliff, then four kilometres of coastline broke out in front of you.

The weather had been stormy the previous day and German swimming lessons had been cancelled, but today’s sky was clear and sunlight dazzled off a sea that was as calm as Paul had ever seen it.

The beach was abuzz and Paul crouched down low, doubting that every German would be as welcoming as the slim officer he’d encountered two days earlier.

Today was clearly a special occasion. There were double the usual number of troops and no sign of old men or fatties. Every soldier seemed to have big shoulders and blond heads, as if they’d been hand-picked for a photo-shoot.

A wooden pathway stretched down to the sea. There were several artillery pieces, each tethered to horses made uneasy by the stones underfoot and the unfamiliar crashing waves. Three barges hovered off shore. The largest was a self-powered beast with a huge cavity, designed for hauling coal. The other two were tied behind a Dutch harbour tug which bobbed uncomfortably, even in such a modest sea.

Paul waved as the slim officer emerged from the crowd and raised a thumb. ‘Come to watch the show?’ he asked cheerfully when he neared the top of the shallow cliff.

‘I’ve never seen all this lot before,’ Paul noted.

The officer handed Paul his set of binoculars. ‘Look on the pier over there,’ the officer said. ‘The fat man in the pale blue uniform.’

Paul’s dad had always refused to give him a coin to look through the telescopes on weekend visits to the Eiffel Tower, so the enlarged view was a minor thrill in itself.

‘You can see much detail,’ Paul said excitably. ‘All the yellow braid on their uniforms and everything. Who are they?’so

‘The pale blue uniform belongs to Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering, supreme commander of the Luftwaffe. There’s also an admiral or two, three generals and the fellow in black is a StandartenFührer from the SS

10 .’

Paul shuddered slightly as he saw that the group of VIPs were guarded by black SS uniforms. These were a rare sight in the military zone, but he knew from experience that the SS and their Gestapo police units were the most dangerous Germans of all.

‘So what’s all this for?’

‘A little show,’ the officer explained. ‘We’ve begun converting river and canal barges into landing ships for the invasion. Goering has moved to Luftwaffe headquarters in Beauvais to coordinate the air attacks on Britain and the generals are putting on a little show for his benefit.’

Paul turned the binoculars around and studied the barges bouncing on the relatively small waves. ‘Is it me, or do those things