Free Beneath the Dover Sky by Murray Pura Page B

airstrip.”
    “You can tell the others at the party,” said Lord Preston. He placed the arm with the newspaper around his wife. “Elizabeth and I prefer to hear about it now. It is good news, I presume?”
    “Very good news, Papa,” replied Emma. “Though I think reactions will be mixed. Jeremy has been given a pulpit in London—and a very good one.”
    “London!” Lord Preston was startled.
    “Why, that’s miles away from Ashton Park!” exclaimed Lady Preston.
    “We hear that Jeremy’s being considered for the post of bishop, and that if he does well in London he’s got it.”
    “Em,” Jeremy reacted quickly, “you didn’t need to tell them that.”
    “I did. It’s the only thing that would soften the blow of us packing up and leaving Lancashire.”
    “A bishop?” Lord and Lady Preston responded together.
    Jeremy looked at the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mum and Dad. I don’t have to take the London church.”
    Lord Preston stared at him. “What?”
    Lady Preston put her hands on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “My dear boy, of course you must take it. God moves in mysterious ways. We’re so proud of you.”
    “Well done, Jeremy!” Edward came over and pumped the cleric’sleft hand, carefully avoiding Jeremy’s prosthetic right arm and hand. “This is excellent news. I fear I must let my own cat out of the bag now.”
    “What is that?” asked Emma.
    “Mother and Father know, but no one else in the family does. The Conservative Party has chosen me for one of its candidates. I’m to run for a seat in Parliament the next election. I’m to run for Dover!”
    Emma laughed. “No! Is it true? You and Char only a stone’s throw from us in London?”
    “If I win, yes.”
    Victoria hugged him fiercely from behind. “Of course you’ll win, old brother Edward. You’ve always wanted to rule the world, and now you’ve got your start.”
    “Ouch! Careful of the pocketbook. I still have to get by Labor and the Liberals.”
    “That’s nothing.”
    “Well, Vic, Labor took power from the Conservatives and formed the government in January. I can’t underestimate them.”
    “You’ll be first past the post, never fear.”
    “Here they come!” a voice shouted.
    The crowd made their way off the landing strip as the judges yelled into their megaphones. Five or six dots could be spotted rapidly approaching, darting underneath a white bank of cumulus clouds and dropping in altitude. As the shapes of the planes grew obvious, the colors of the SPAD in the lead became clear to the people on the ground: yellow and black. Close on the lead plan’s tail was a SPAD with a white cross painted on the fuselage.
    “Ben! It’s Ben!” Victoria exclaimed as she pointed. “He has the cross. He’s right behind the leader.”
    “And Kipp is right behind Ben.” Edward grinned. “See the black K?”
    Lord Preston struck his leg with the newspaper. “First past the flagstaff wins.”
    The roar of engines blotted out conversation. For a moment it looked as if both Ben and Kipp would overtake the black-and-yellow SPAD, but its pilot opened the throttle and surged ahead, streaking past the flagpole half a minute before anyone else. A groan swept through the crowd. Victoria closed her eyes and put the back of herhand to her mouth. Lord Preston unfolded his paper and glanced at a list of entrants that included descriptions of their aircraft.
    “I see.” He shook his head. “A German won. A Baron von Zeltner. I’d hoped to give the Lord Preston Cup to an Englishman first time around. Well, well, can’t be helped.”
    Von Zeltner brought his plane about and touched down on the grass. Ben and Kipp came in for a landing minutes after him. The judges barked into their megaphones and reminded people more planes would be coming in over the next few minutes even as a cluster of men and women waving the black, red, and gold flag of Germany’s Weimar Republic rushed von Zeltner’s SPAD. He cut his