The old lady who ran the B&B was quite chatty. He mentioned that he had been flying in the UK during the war which reminded her of something. She had an old school friend whose father had taught her to fly before the war. During the war she had been in the ATA moving aeroplanes from one part of the country to another. She had got into trouble with a Canadian pilot hand had come back to Selkirk. Luckily for her everything had worked out all right.
The Canadian then went to the photographers to organise the pictures. He described what and where he wanted done and then went back to the B&B for dinner. Tucking!!!!????!!!! in to haggis and chips he told her about the arrangements he had made. She then dropped the bombshell.
“That photographer is the boy that the girl I was talking about had.”
The Canadian was dumbfounded. All the memories and all the questions came flooding back. What does he do? Does he take his long lost son into his arms or does he run away from it. He wasn’t a hero. He had landed up the hill because he was too scared to bail out. He had sat in a Stalag for three years because he hadn’t had the guts to try and escape. He thought long and hard about every possibility. In the end he had made up his mind so he told the lady that he had had unexpected business and had to leave the next morning.
Next morning as he drove by the photographer’s shop he looked in and confirmed his decision was right.
Wait for it.
He’s too damned ugly to be my son.
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 9th Jul 2012 at 18:06.