v C”
up completely and leave him useless.’
Cooper could see that the rear turret was also the most vulnerable position. And in fact, it was the one where you would be unable to see anything of your own aircraft, as you were flying backwards. The space in there was tiny, barely big enough for a man to sit. The breech blocks of four machine guns jutted through the Perspex, and it would be impossible to move your feet more than a couple of inches either way because of the ammunition feeds, rising like convevor belts from the base of the turret.
Illingworth was warming to Cooper’s interest in the aircraft. ‘You’ll notice that the only crewmen with a proper view out of the aircraft were the pilot, the bomb aimer, and the flight engineer, all up front. The navigator had to work in a curtained-off area — he wouldn’t have any idea what was going on outside, except for what he heard on his headphones. That glass bubble above his position is the astrolabe, for making
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sightings of the stars all very well, as long as there were no clouds.
‘Of course.’
Rut on the night Uncle Victor had crashed, there had been plenty of cloud over the Peak District. Cooper’s eyes were drawn hack to the rear gunner’s turret. Because of the cramped space, the rear gunner couldn’t have been a big man, or he wouldn’t have fitted. Of course, Sergeant Dick Abbott had been only Hvc foot six inches tall. The doors would have slid shut behind Abbott quite easily as he scaled himself up for his last journey.
Cooper shuddered. Noticing his expression, Illingworth smiled grimly. ‘The Lancaster was known to be the worst aircraft to get out of in an emergency. And the quickest to sink, if it was ditched into the sea. Makes you think, doesn’t it?’
Surely this Lancaster would be haunted. Cooper could imagine the aircraft standing at night in its darkened hangar, full of spectral sounds - the quiet throwing of switches and levers, the muttering of conversations on the intercom.
‘We’re going to have to ask you to stand clear now,’ said Illingworth. ‘They’re going to start her up in a minute. You don’t want to be turned into mincemeat by the propellers.’
Cooper climbed down reluctantly. ‘How much would this aircraft be worth?’ he asked.
‘Worth?’ The man looked astonished at the question, as if someone had suggested selling the Queen Mother. ‘How can anyone say what she’s worth? She’s priceless.’
‘Where on earth do you get the parts to restore it?’
‘Wherever we can. Aviation scrapyards, dealers, other museums. Some bits have lo be made new, of course. We need a new main spar for the Lane if we’re ever going to get her airworthy again. You don’t find many of those lying about, so we’ll have to get somebody to make one. That’s a long way in the future, though, for this aircraft.’
‘Have you got a collection here, too? I mean memorabilia, that sort of thing?’
‘Yes, lots of stuff. There’s a display over in the old control tower building.’
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‘And I suppose some of your volunteers have their own collections.’
‘Of course they do. They’re enthusiasts. Some of them get into it in a big way. They spend all their money filling their homes with stud. You wouldn’t believe it. But I suppose it’s like anything else. It you get keen on it, you’ll go to any lengths to collect whatever you can get your hands on.’
‘They’re men usually, I imagine,’ said Cooper.
‘Well, as it happens, yes.’
‘Who have you got here who’s like that? Can you giye me a few names, sir?’
‘lllingworth began to reel off names until Cooper stopped him.
‘Who was that last one?’
‘Graham Kemp. Now, he’s a complete nutcase (or collecting. Graham travels all over the country if he hears of something that might be interesting. I le even takes his holidays in places where he can look at aircraft wrecks or scrapyards. His wife gets totally nailed oil about it.’ There was a burst of noise, and the propellers of the lour Merlin engines began to turn. lllingworth had to raise
his voice against the noise. ‘We haven’t seen him around here
t*
tor a bit, but he’s one of the keenest collectors I know. Is it
Kemp you’re interested in?’
‘Graham Kemp,’ said Cooper thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it is.’ itv appeared at the corner of the hangar. She didn’t look any
11 o
happier. ‘Nottinghamshire don’t know what the hell I’m talking about,’ she said. ‘But they’re going to ask around.’
‘Great.’
‘Great? Oh, it’s absolutely bloody marvellous.’
Then the engines of the Lancaster caught with a roar. Cooper could see the frame of the aircraft shaking so hard that it was a surprise the rows ol’rivets didn’t pop out. No wonder the crew had come back deafened and wobbly when they set foot on the ground again.
The noise of the engines was deafening, but exciting too. It reminded Cooper of the sound of an orchestra tuning up before a concert. There was nothing except roar and discord, but it held out the promise of something entirely different to come.
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Dianc Fry listener! sceptically while Ben Cooper told her about Graham
