We present an extract from The Weather Girls, the new book for younger readers by Sarah Webb; it's a tale of bravery, adventure and a remarkable friendship, inspired by true events from World War 2.
It's 1944. Twelve-year-old Grace Devine lives at Blacksod Lighthouse and weather station in County Mayo with her parents and little brother. When a German plane crashes nearby, she and her best friend Sibby risk their lives to save the young pilot. Grace’s family take him in, but their neighbours are horrified at having an 'enemy’ in their midst.
Meanwhile, the Met Office in England suddenly asks Blacksod to send them weather reports every hour. But why? As the wind and rain howl outside, Grace begins to understand that something important is happening, something to do with the war – and she is right in the eye of the storm.
Wednesday 10th May, 1944
‘Grace!’ Dannie calls up at me. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’
‘There’s an aeroplane. On Fallmore Hill. It’s crashed and it’s on fire.’
‘A plane? What kind of plane? German? British?’
I look again, squinting my eyes to try and make out any symbols on the plane’s body or wings, or even what type of plane it is. ‘I can’t see with all the smoke.’
I put the binoculars away and scramble down the ladder, too quickly – I miss a rung with my foot and bang my knee hard against the wood of the frame. Luckily, I was holding on tight. I pause for a second, take a deep breath, and then start climbing down again, slower this time. Everything feels heightened. My blood is thumping through my body and my head is racing.
Why is Flora not here? She’d know what to do. But she’s on the way to Belmullet now and Dad’s in the post office. He’s a good twenty minutes away from Fallmore Hill even if he runs. We’re much nearer, three or four minutes at a sprint.
It’s up to me. I’m going to have to do something. I stand on the grass at the bottom of the ladder, my hands gripping the wood. I close my eyes. Think, Grace, think!
From what I could see, the fire hasn’t reached the fuel tanks yet; it seems to be concentrated over one of the engines. There are pilots and airmen in that burning plane. If they’re to have any chance of survival, we have to do something and quick!
‘OK, here’s what we need to do,’ I tell Dannie. ‘Ring Dad in the post office and tell him what’s happened. He’ll ring the fire station and the ambulance service.’
Dannie’s face is pale, but he nods. ‘What then?’
‘I’m going to the hill.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘Are you sure? You don’t have to.’
‘I want to.’
‘OK then. We have to be fast.’ While Dannie runs inside to the office to ring Dad, the dogs following behind him, I find Flora’s black leather first-aid bag in the cupboard in her office and grab the multi-coloured crochet blanket from the back of the armchair by the stove.
Dannie joins me in the kitchen. ‘Did you talk to Dad?’ I ask him.
‘Yes. He’s going to ring the services and then come up to the hill. He said he’ll bang on some doors on the way and find a few more people to help.’
‘That’s a good idea. Let’s try the Lavelles’ house. We’ll be going past it anyway!’ I dash out the door. The heavy leather bag I’m clutching bangs against my calves as I run. Dannie is just behind me, the dogs too.
‘Put the dogs back inside,’ I tell him.
‘They might be useful,’ Dannie says.
‘Useful? Those two? They’ll be as useful as a chocolate teapot.’ I stare at him. His eyes are wide and he looks scared. He’s always better with the dogs around so, although I think he’s gone crackers, I say, ‘Fine. But you’re in charge of them. And put Poppy on her lead.’
* * *
I bang on the Lavelles’ door, hard, so full of adrenaline I can feel it tingling in my fingers. ‘Come on, answer,’ I say. I bang again and again. Dannie stays at the gate with the dogs.
The door swings open. It’s Sibby. She glares at me. ‘What do you want? And what’s with all the knocking?’
‘Never mind all that,’ I say in a rush. ‘There’s a plane on fire on Fallmore Hill. The airmen may still be alive. We need to help.’
She looks at me for a second and then takes in the bag and the blanket. ‘You’re serious?’ she says.
‘I’d hardly joke about dying airmen, Sibby.’
‘I guess,’ she says. ‘Dad’s not here. It’s just me and Mamó and Liam. Oh, and Ellen, but she’s washing her hair. She’ll probably be too busy.’
‘Grab them all and come on then!’ I say.
Ellen appears in the hall with a towel wrapped around her head, Liam just behind her. ‘What’s going on?’
‘There’s a plane on fire on Fallmore Hill,’ I explain. ‘Dad’s ringing the emergency services but I’m going up there to see if I can help.’
‘Jeepers!’ Ellen says. ‘Why are we standing around talking then? Let’s go!’ She pulls the towel off her head and flings it on the ground.
‘That’s what I said,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘Mamó!’ Ellen hollers down the hall. ‘Grace, you go with Liam and Sibby and I’ll catch up with you. I’ll bring Mamó. She’s pretty useful in an emergency. But don’t go doing anything stupid, Sibby.’
‘Why would I do anything stupid? What about Liam?’ Sibby says.
‘He’s a sensible lad, he can take care of himself,’ Ellen says. ‘You, on the other hand …'
Sibby’s eyes flash. ‘That’s so unfair. You’re always –’
‘Stop gabbing and come on!’ I grab Sibby’s arm and start pulling her down the path.
‘This doesn’t mean we’re friends again,’ she huffs as we run up Fallmore Road towards the side of the hill. ‘You’re too bossy, Grace Devine.’
‘And you talk too much,’ I say. ‘Just run!’
There’s another loud bang, like a car tyre blowing out, which sets the dogs off again. It must have come from the plane. Dannie jumps at the noise and drops Poppy’s lead. Poppy starts running towards the noise but Liam darts after her and manages to grab her lead again. He hands it back to Dannie and gives him a squeeze on the shoulder. Liam’s a bit older than Dannie and has always been kind like that.
Dannie nods and the boys and dogs start running even faster.
I speed up too, but the first-aid bag and blanket are slowing me down. I stop for a second and switch the bag into my other hand.
‘Oh, give me that thing.’ Sibby grabs the bag and holds it against her chest, like a baby. She takes the blanket and puts it on top of the bag. ‘Go!’ she says.
I sprint past everyone, towards the crash. I’ve always been a strong and fast runner, but today I have reason to run like the wind.
The Weather Girls is published by The O’Brien Press
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