The Bell Ringer

By Mike Nettleship

The UK and Europe are still recovering from the second world war, and even though it ended five years ago it still has an effect on the minds of people who have lived through it. Tom and Sally’s parents have longed to move away from London to the peace and quiet of the country so their children can have a peaceful upbringing, but little do they know that something which happened in the war is going to threaten their lives. After arriving in their idyllic new home, an old farmhouse with a large barn, set in the rolling hills of the countryside, Tom and Sally go exploring. It isn’t long before they find something which starts a chain of events that changes their new life into a desperate race for survival.
The Bell Ringer is an action adventure thriller for children of age nine plus of good reading ability. There is plenty of action with a twist to the end and a dramatic finale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Nettleship
• Release date: Jul 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9780957666313

Mike Nettleship

Mike Nettleship lives in Rotherham South Yorkshire in the UK. He is semi-retired and has many interests. He is a keen wildlife photographer. See some of his pictures and videos at his website http://www.mikeswildlifegarden.co.uk. He is also a supporting actor and has appeared in UK films and TV since 2016 including all three series of Victoria, Peaky Blinders, King Charles III, Emmerdale, Gunpowder, Girlfriends, Still open all hours and many others. Due to the number of emails Mike receives he is only able to answer a few so please don't be offended if you don't receive one.Thank you for your interest The Bell Ringer children's adventure novel.

Book preview

The

Bell Ringer

An adventure thriller novel for children age 7plus

by

M. I. Nettleship

Smashwords edition

First published in Great Britain 2013

Inspired by real events

Paperback copies can be purchased only from

www.thebellringer.co.uk

Text copyright 2013 M. I. Nettleship

Cover designs copyright 2013 Joe Mayo

The rights of M. I. Nettleship as the author of this work have been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the copyright, Design and Patents act 1988.

All characters and places in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Reviews

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Epilogue

Prologue

France: Thursday April 30th 1942.

Françoise hurriedly cleared the pots from the table for her mother after finishing their meal. She had an important job to do this evening. Some of her father’s friends had visited today and she knew something was going to happen tonight but she didn’t yet know what. Her father had told her the fewer people who knew the better, as many lives depended on secrecy, but she would soon find out as she had an important part to play. For a fourteen year old she was very mature, wartime has that effect on children.

The town of Ville Des Fleurs where she had lived since she was born lay sixteen miles to the west of Reims in France. It had been occupied by German soldiers since the invasion of France when she was just twelve years old. Her father Fabien was a member of the French Resistance and tonight there was an important mission for his group. He had been told by his contact that he would receive a message on his radio with details of the time and place of the mission. When it was received it would be Françoise’s job to cycle to the other group members with the details. Because she was a young girl she was far less likely to be stopped by German soldiers. She had done this on many previous occasions and had often talked to the soldiers, so they were quite used to her cycling around on her pushbike.

‘Françoise,’ she heard her father call her from the top of the stairs.

‘Yes Papa,’ she replied.

‘Come, I want you to help me.’

‘Coming,’ she said eagerly and ran upstairs.

‘It will soon be time for the message so I want you to keep a lookout while I assemble the radio,’ he whispered. ‘You know what to do.’

‘Of course Papa, I’ll let you know straight away if I see any soldiers.’ She went into her bedroom and pulled the curtain aside slightly so she could see both up and down the street. From that vantage point she could see anyone approaching and give the alarm if necessary.

Listening to the radio had been prohibited by the Germans because every day at the same time since June 1940 a radio station started by the BBC in London had sent transmissions to the people of France. Most of these messages were from French people who were living in England to their loved ones still in France, but they also included coded messages to the French Resistance. The transmissions always started with: "Ici Londres ! Les Français parlent aux Français... (This is London! The French speaking to the French...")

Her father went downstairs and returned with what appeared to be two tins of fruit which he kept in the larder. He carefully pulled off the tops and out of one tin lifted a small radio tuner and a short length of wire, then, from the other he took a set of headphones. He connected them up, put on the headphones and looked at his watch. It was important not to switch on the radio until necessary as the Germans were constantly listening for radio transmissions, and it would only take a few minutes for them to triangulate the signal and find out where it was located.

The minutes ticked by until the allocated time arrived. He switched on the radio and listened for the message. There was continuous talking as the woman transmitting from London gave out a string of code words and messages, each one being sent to different groups of the resistance in different parts of France. He had to listen for his own code word Okay to go which would be followed by his instructions, then he would transmit a short code to acknowledge he had received the message and quickly switch off the radio.

He waited patiently for the message. Two minutes passed, then three, it would be dangerous to wait much longer, then, over the crackling he heard his password.

‘Okay to go. Your message is….’ and the woman’s voice started to recite the coded message, which when translated gave the time 11:30 pm at map reference Latitude 49º 15’ 20 N / Longitude 3° 36’ 37E. This was the time and place they would meet a group of paratroopers being dropped into France just a few miles away to carry out a mission, the details of which had already been given to him.

He wrote the information on a piece of paper, rolled it up and placed it inside a small cylindrical cage about two inches long and half an inch in diameter. The cage was made from chicken wire and was springy when you squeezed it, specially made to slide up inside the hollow handle bars of Françoise’s pushbike. She would push this deep into the handle bar so it couldn’t be felt by sticking your finger inside, just in case she and the bicycle were searched by any soldiers. To pull it back out she wore a hair slide with an adapted clasp with a small hook on it.

‘Is the coast still clear?’ he asked Françoise.

‘Yes Papa,’ she replied.

‘Good girl, now you know what you must do. We have three hours to get to the rendezvous point so there is plenty of time. I want you to go to André, Gérard, Gilbert, Jacques and Rémi and tell them to meet me at point B at 11:00pm. Show them the message so they have the time and location to make their own way in case they can’t meet me at that time. That’s all you have to tell them. Be careful now ‘ma belle’ and don’t hurry, you don’t want to attract attention to yourself.’

‘Don’t worry Papa I’ll be alright, I’ll be very careful,’ she said. He gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek before she set off down the stairs.

Françoise put on her coat and beret making sure she had the hair slide in her hair. She left by the rear door, stepping out into the cold evening air of the small yard at the back of the house. She opened an outhouse and took out her pushbike, then looking around to see no-one was watching she pushed the message up into the handlebar using a pencil, then opening the gate into the side street she set off. The sun had set but it was still light so there were people walking about in the streets which made it easier to travel without being noticed. She pedalled her pushbike down the street until she reached the main road through the small town then stopped and looked if the coast was clear. There were two soldiers walking away from her. She waited a few moments until they were further away then set off again crossing the main road and entering another back street.

She reached the house of Gilbert first and knocked on the door. It was opened by his wife Camille who looked up and down the narrow street then beckoning her in with a wave of her hand said.

‘Bonjour Françoise come in quickly and bring your bicycle too.’

Françoise entered, leaned her bicycle against the wall and took off her beret.

‘You have a message for Gilbert?’ asked Camille.

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘I’ll get him. Gilbert,’ she called. ‘Françoise is here, come quickly she has something to tell you. Would you like a drink or something to eat child you look cold.’

‘No thank you I have other calls to make but thank you for the offer.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ said Camille. ‘Don’t ever go cold or hungry, you can always ask for anything you need and if we can help we will. We all have to help each other in these hard times. Tell that to your mother will you.’

‘Yes of course and thank you I’ll tell her,’ said Françoise.

‘Ah, here he is,’ said Camille as Gilbert appeared. ‘I’ll leave you two to talk and I hope you will call again soon, au revoir.’ She waved goodbye and disappeared into another room.

‘Au revoir,’ replied Françoise.

She passed on the message to Gilbert and set off again to go to the next contact. She made three more calls to Gérard, Rémi and Jacques then there was just one more and she could head home to safety. Darkness had fallen quickly, there was only a slight glow over the western horizon and the first stars were easily visible. The back streets were now deserted as she cycled down Rue de Bouleaux on her way to see André. She passed the pond where she used to go with her Mama and Papa to feed the ducks, but no one ever did that now, no one could afford to throw away food, it was far too precious. She turned left after the pond into a narrow alley but slammed on the brakes when she saw the silhouette of two soldiers a short distance ahead, lit up by a street light a little way behind them. They were unmistakable with their rounded tin hats and long coats. The barrels of the rifles they carried on their backs could be seen sticking above their shoulders, and they were coming in her direction. One of them exhaled a lung full of cigarette smoke then stopped and dropped the end on the floor stubbing it out with his boot. That gave Françoise just a couple of seconds to decide what to do, should she continue or turn around and pedal as fast as she could. She would be out of sight in a few moments. Then one of the soldiers shouted.

‘Hey you! You on the bike, HALT!’

That decided it for her – she was going to make a run for it! She could travel a lot faster on her pushbike than they could run and she would be out of sight as soon as she turned the corner. She started to turn the bike around looking down to find the pedals in the darkness. There was a BANG which echoed up the alley, then the sound of running boots. She found the pedals and spun them round putting her foot on the top one pushing it down hard to make a quick getaway. Then she glanced back to see where the soldiers were before fleeing, but they were running in the opposite direction in pursuit of a man who had just left a house slamming the door behind him and was now running away. She sat there for a moment until her heart stopped pounding then set off to take her message to André.

She turned into André’s street and could see there was some kind of action up ahead. She quickly ducked into a passage and tentatively peeked around the edge of the wall to see what was happening. There was a car and soldiers with torches, and it looked as if they were at André’s. She had to be sure it was his house but she daren’t go nearer so she rode in the opposite direction then turned up an adjacent street until she was very near his house. She dismounted and crept through the garden of the house opposite where her worst fears were confirmed, she saw André being pushed roughly into the back of the car parked outside. She went back to her pushbike as fast as she could and pedalled like the wind to get back home and tell her father. She was going to take a quicker route but each time she came to a junction there were soldiers and also cars with SS officers, so she had to take a longer detour around the back streets to avoid them.

‘Papa Papa!’ she cried bursting in through the back door gasping for breath. He came running from another room and put his arms around her.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What on earth’s happened?’

‘They’ve got André, they took him away and there are soldiers everywhere in the town.’

‘Did you see them? How do you know?’ he asked in a frightened voice.

‘Yes I saw them, I was just going to the house and I saw them take him away, they pushed him into a car.’

‘Oh my God! That’s really bad, I wonder how much they know. We must leave quickly we can’t risk staying here it’s too dangerous. ‘Carine,’ he shouted to his wife. ‘André has been arrested we must leave quickly. Pack some things and we’ll