by Ellie Dean
‘So where did he get to last night? Where’s he been all day – and why isn’t he with the others?’
‘You’re making too much of this,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘It’s just some stupid practical joke the men are playing to wind us up. Forget about it, and let’s get on with this lovely party.’
‘But I can’t forget it, can I?’ Rosie snatched her wrist from Peggy’s grasp, her voice louder as panic set in. ‘Not now the doubt’s been put in my head. What if Frank wasn’t joking? What if Ron really has gone missing?’
All conversation faltered into silence around them. Gloria stopped bashing the piano keys and the singing petered out at the sound of Rosie’s raised voice. Peggy was now quite sober.
‘What’s bitten your bum, Rosie?’ Gloria asked, moving away from the piano.
‘You might well ask.’ Rosie got to her feet to square up to her and Peggy quickly darted between them to avert a row.
‘Ron hasn’t been seen since yesterday, and according to Frank, he hasn’t turned up at the Officers’ Club,’ she said. ‘Now, the whole thing could be a hoax dreamed up by the men, but if not, then it’s serious.’ She took a breath. ‘I hate to ask, Gloria, but have you seen him at all?’
Gloria folded her arms. ‘And why should I? What you insinuating, Peggy Reilly?’
‘I’m insinuating nothing,’ she replied with some exasperation. ‘But if Ron and Harvey really have gone missing we need to think about where they might have gone.’
‘Well he ain’t ’iding in my pub,’ said Gloria. ‘I’d’ve given him the boot if he’d so much as put his nose round the bleedin’ door now me and Rosie are mates.’ She looked round at the other women. ’What about you lot? Anyone seen either of them today or last night?’
She was met with silence and shaking heads. Gloria slammed the lid shut on the piano and looked around at the wide-eyed gathering. ‘Well I fer one ain’t gunna sit here twiddling me thumbs, so get yer coats. We’re going out to try and find the silly old bugger.’
‘I suggest we stay here,’ said Doris firmly above the scrape of chairs and general chatter. ‘It’s no good rushing off like headless chickens when we don’t know the truth of the matter. It would be far more sensible for Rosie to telephone the Officers’ Club and ask to speak to Colonel White. He’ll tell you if it’s a prank or not.’
There was a mutter of agreement and everyone sat down again as Rosie headed straight for the telephone to ask for the number of the club. She listened and then put down the receiver with a clatter. ‘The number’s engaged,’ she said crossly.
‘Leave it a few minutes and try again,’ said April, who worked at the exchange. ‘Better still, let me talk to Vera.’ She quickly got through. ‘Hello, Vera, it’s April. We’ve got a bit of a problem here and urgently need to speak to Colonel White at the Officers’ Club. Would it be possible for you to break into the conversation going on, or at least ring us back the moment the line’s free?’ She listened, thanked her, and put down the receiver.
‘Vera’s going to ring us back. She can’t break into the conversation because it’s long distance to a classified number in London. So we’ll just have to be patient.’
‘Let’s have another drink, then,’ said Gloria, ‘and hope whoever it is on the phone ain’t got verbal diarrhoea.’
‘I don’t really want any more to drink,’ said Peggy confidentially to Rosie. ‘This has sort of put a dampener on the evening.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Rosie. ‘And if I find out it was all a prank, I will kill the lot of them.’
Frank had only just returned to the club having trawled the town for any sight of his father. It was now a quarter to nine.
‘I don’t know where else to look,’ he said after downing a pint to quench his dry throat. ‘But if he was up on the hills with Harvey and had some sort of accident, Harvey would have come back to alert us.’
‘But he’d have found no one at home,’ said Chalky. ‘We’re here and the women are at the Anchor.’
‘He’d have followed their scent there,’ said Frank stubbornly. ‘He’s a clever dog.’
‘We should get a search party together,’ said John Hicks. ‘I’ll round up some of my officers who are on duty, and take one of the fire trucks up into the hills.’
‘We’ll need torches,’ said Bert Williams. ‘It’s pitch-black up there, and we could break our necks falling into some rabbit hole. I’ll fetch them from the police station, and suggest the rest of you start searching the bomb sites around town, and all the alleyways.’
‘I’ve already done that,’ said Frank, his face drawn with worry.
‘As a military man I’ve learned that search parties need to be properly organised,’ piped up John White. ‘Otherwise people will be going off in all directions, and places will be searched twice, whilst others are overlooked. We’ll need to focus on one place at a time. Don’t you agree, Bertie?’ He looked round but Bertie wasn’t there.
‘He left shortly after Frank went down to Beach View,’ said Chalky. ‘I don’t know where he went, but he’s been gone a long time.’
‘Whatever he’s doing, he must feel it’s more important than finding Ron,’ said Stan. ‘Perhaps he knows something we don’t.’
At that precise moment, Bertie strode into the bar looking every inch the army major he’d once been. ‘I know where Ron is,’ he declared, his expression solemn.
‘How’s that then?’ Frank snapped.
Bertie stiffened to attention. ‘Need to know, old chap. Sorry, can’t say. But there’s no time to waste, because he’s in great danger.’
He ignored the questions this elicited and turned to John Hicks. ‘We’ll need your fire truck because it has a flatbed at the back, as well as digging equipment, blankets, ropes, torches, drinking water, oxygen, first-aid kit and a stretcher. As there are so many of us, you’d better bring your jeep as well.’
‘But where are we going?’ Frank asked.
‘Into the hills,’ said Bertie with the fire of a fighting man lighting his eyes. ‘I suggest you change out of those fancy shoes; there’s some rough walking to do.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s now ten to nine. We’ll meet outside here in fifteen minutes, so chop chop.’
Bert lumbered off to change his shoes at the station, Robert ran back to Beach View, and John Hicks went straight to the telephone to pass on the orders to Andy Rawlings who was in charge this evening. Chalky, John White and the others quickly finished their drinks and went to the cloakroom to fetch their coats. It was too far to get home to change their shoes, and in a crisis like this it really didn’t matter.
Bertie got the steward to supply three flasks of very hot sweet tea and they all trooped outside to wait for the fire truck, which arrived minutes later with two crewmen on board. It pulled up outside, followed by the jeep John used to get about quickly in an emergency. Bert Williams was red in the face and puffing like a steam train as he arrived a minute later wearing his sturdy policeman’s boots and carrying extra torches.
Bertie regarded the overweight and elderly man with some misgivings. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here, old chap,’ he said. ‘You’ll be no use to us if you have a heart attack.’
‘You don’t tell me what to do, you little pipsqueak,’ Bert replied gruffly and shoved past him to clamber into the jeep.
Unfazed by his rudeness, Bertie Double-Barrelled climbed up into the front seat of the fire truck. ‘Don’t ring the bells, but head for the Cliffe estate on the fastest route you know,’ he said to the driver. ‘I’ll tell you where to turn off.’
Curious faces peered from the windows of the Officers’ Club as the fire truck and jeep screeched away.
The telephone rang at the Anchor and Rosie dashed to answer it.
‘Mrs Braithwaite? Brigadier Arthur Pendleton here, Officers’ Club chairman. How may I help you?’
‘I need to speak to Colonel White very urgently,’ she replied.
‘I’m sorry, but Colonel
White has just left with his guests.’
‘Left? Left for where?’
‘I’m really not terribly sure, but they went in a great hurry and were travelling in a fire truck and jeep, heading out of town.’
Rosie just managed to thank him before slamming the receiver down and grabbing her coat. ‘They’ve all gone off in a fire engine and John Hicks’s jeep,’ she announced to the gathering. ‘No one seems to know where they’re heading, but it was in a tearing hurry, so something’s up. I’m going to the club to see if I can find out anything more.’
‘Then we’ll all come with you,’ said Gloria, who’d drunk herself sober.
‘I doubt they’ll let all of us in,’ said Doris snootily. ‘One does have to be a member, you know.’
‘Yeah, I do as it ’appens,’ snapped Gloria. ‘I’ve been a member for years. And before you ask, I got it through my son what was an officer afore he was killed fighting fer his country – so put that in yer bleedin’ pipe and smoke it.’
‘All right, Glo, no need to take on so,’ soothed Ivy. ‘Let’s get going.’
‘I think we should stay here,’ said Sarah. ‘The men know where we are, and they’ll ring here the minute they have any news.’
‘Actually,’ said Peggy, ‘that’s a good idea. What do you think, Rosie?’
‘I agree,’ she replied, discarding her coat and slumping back down into a chair. ‘And I’m sure that if the people at the club hear anything, they’ll ring here.’
‘D’you want us to stay and keep yer company, Rosie?’ asked Gloria.
‘That’s very kind, but there’s little point, Glo. The party’s over, and I’m not up to being sociable any more.’
‘Fair enough. Ring me the minute you hear anything.’ Gloria stood up. ‘Come on, you lot, there’s a drink on the ’ouse at my place for those what want it.’
Doris, Pauline and the Beach View girls turned down the offer, wanting to stay with Rosie, Peggy and Cordelia. As everyone else donned their coats and scarves and said goodnight, Rita grabbed her coat, shot out the side door and ran down the road to the fire station. If John Hicks had called out a truck, then it must be serious, and as Ivy’s boyfriend, Andy, was duty officer tonight, he might have some inkling as to what was going on.
Ron’s eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and he had to force them open. He felt so very tired; exhausted in fact, but the air didn’t smell right, and it seemed to be getting humid down here.
Harvey was snoring beside him and hardly stirred as Ron struggled in vain to get his poacher’s coat off. Had the air vents become blocked? Was that black damp gas he could smell, or just the natural marsh gas and methane of an underground chamber? Either way it smelled foul.
Ron groaned. He couldn’t think straight, his head hurt and he was feeling nauseous. He’d lost all feeling in his body, and he’d remembered too late that he had a box of matches in his coat pocket, so they could have had a little light after all. But if that was gas, then lighting a match would finish them both off.
He sank his chin back to Harvey’s still paws, but there was merely an answering twitch of his whiskers and a soft grunt to acknowledge him. Ron knew then that the vents were blocked and they were slowly being gassed by something.
At least it will be a gentle death, Rosie, he thought before he fell asleep again.
16
Amid all the excitement, Bertie realised he’d forgotten to ring the Anchor to tell the women what was happening – but it was too late now. He could only hope the club chairman would inform them when they phoned the club, which they were bound to do at some point after Frank’s visit.
Bertie sat between the driver and the two silent firemen as they raced along. His long telephone call to Dolly Cardew at SOE HQ had finally elicited the information he’d been dreading, and he knew there wasn’t a minute to lose if Ron and Harvey were to be rescued alive.
‘Go past the main entrance to the estate and then turn onto the track and go up the hill,’ he shouted above the noise of the engine.
The driver slowed as they passed the imposing gates, found the chalky track which ultimately led to Tamarisk Bay, and swung the heavy, high-sided vehicle onto it. The sturdy tyres gripped the uneven surface and the engine didn’t seem to struggle at all with the very steep slope, but everyone clung on because they were being rocked back and forth and jarred with every turn of the wheels.
Bertie could see the burned-out skeleton of the Lancaster sitting amid the shattered remains of the old farmhouse, and suspected that when it exploded, it had set off a chain reaction in the bunker that lay directly beneath it. It could very well have been the cause of Ron getting trapped – but had he survived? Were they already too late to rescue him and his dog?
They reached the southern corner of the high wire fencing that surrounded the woodlands and farms of the estate. ‘Slow down,’ said Bertie, ‘and follow it as far as you can. We won’t be able to get right to the site, because it’s hidden in that deep valley amongst the trees, but try and get as close as you can.’
The bright headlights lit up the valley as the fire truck bounced and jounced along the rough ground. They weaved between the trees, thudding over exposed roots and tearing their way through thick gorse until they came to the impenetrable barrier of chalk outcrops, more gorse and closely grouped trees.
The driver drew to a halt, the headlights penetrating the deep black of this hidden valley. ‘Now what?’ he asked.
‘Leave the sidelights on so we can find our way back easily. We have to walk the rest of the way,’ said Bertie. ‘But first I need to speak to you all.’
He didn’t miss the glances exchanged between the three firemen, and knew they thought him a rather silly old buffer who was enjoying himself despite the occasion.
They were right in a way, he silently admitted as he slid down from the high truck. But it wasn’t enjoyment – it was pride in knowing his skills and experience were being brought into play again, and that, under his charge, they would find Ron.
He stood ramrod straight with his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the others to join him. He was impatient to be getting on with it, but also suddenly nervous that he might not remember exactly where to go to find the entrance – and yet knew he must not allow the others to see that, for they would lose confidence in his leadership.
‘All right, chaps,’ he began when they’d all assembled. ‘The place where we’re heading is classified as top secret. As such it is imperative that no one talks about it afterwards – not even to our nearest and dearest – and I shall have to ask you to sign the Secrets Act on our return.’
He waited for them to agree, and then pointed to the trees. ‘We will have to carry the equipment into there,’ he said. ‘It’s difficult terrain, and the walk will take a good twenty minutes of hard going. If any of you feel you are unable to continue then you must speak up now.’
His gaze trawled across Fred, Alf, Chalky and on to Bert Williams, who still looked liverish, but belligerent – and to Stan who’d recently had a mild heart attack. They were younger than him, but unfit and overweight, and he really hoped they’d see sense and stay here.
But they all stood firm so, with reluctance, Bertie turned to John Hicks. ‘Will you be able to manage with your prosthesis? Only it is very rough underfoot in there.’
‘I’ve coped with worse,’ he replied flatly.
Bertie nodded and checked his pocket watch. It was almost nine-thirty. ‘Then let’s get the equipment divided up between us and move out. Time is of the essence.’
The firemen took the heavy oxygen cylinder, jerry can of water and coils of rope, and the rest was divided up between the others. Bertie saw to it that Bert Williams was in charge of the blankets and flasks, and Stan, the stretcher. He took a pickaxe and hefted it onto his shoulder. ‘This way.’
‘Where exactly are we going, and what will we find when we get there?’ asked Frank.
‘We’ll find underground storage bunkers and a
lot of tunnels,’ replied Bertie. ‘Why they’re there, you don’t need to know, but your father and I are familiar with them, and I’m sure Ron will come out of this all right.’
‘How can you possibly tell?’ Frank persisted. ‘What if he’s trapped miles underground where we can’t reach him?’
The same thought had occurred to Bertie, but this was not the time to be pessimistic. ‘We’ll deal with that scenario if and when it arises,’ he replied briskly. ‘Until then, I suggest we all remain positive.’
They walked for a while with the bright lights of the fire truck showing the way, but as they went deeper into the woods, their pace slowed and they had to switch on the torches.
Chalky White was the oldest man, and he was beginning to flag, but Alf and Fred took charge of the heavy first-aid box he was carrying and made sure he wasn’t left behind. John Hicks grimly kept pace even though it was clear he was struggling with his false leg. Robert, who was the youngest, and Colonel White silently matched Bertie step for step, with Frank close behind them.
Bertie’s night sight wasn’t as good as it had once been, and the bobbing torchlights merely cast confusing shadows, making it more difficult to gauge his whereabouts. His last foray into this valley had been almost four years ago, and he’d done it in absolute darkness, confident he had the route firmly drummed into his head – now he had the noise of the others, the sense of urgency that could make him careless, and the lights to contend with.
He came to a halt and flashed the torch from side to side to get his bearings, and then moved on, slower now and concentrating hard on that hazy map he’d learned by heart so many years before.
Danuta had seen Rita dash off, and suspected where she might be going. As the others settled in by the fire to wait for the telephone to ring, she hurried down Camden Road towards the fire station.
Rita was in earnest conversation with Andy Rawlings, and they both turned to stare at her as she hurried towards them.
