by Karl Fish
In front of him sat a single telephonic exchange machine. Several lights flashed red and white. A single earpiece of mahogany and tortoiseshell was suspended on a curling cord and in front of him, a circular wire mesh mounted on an enamel box. Tink flicked a single black switch beneath the mesh and waited.
‘Good morning, sir, welcome to Fortnum’s. You are through to Baker. How may I help,’ came a sharp cordial man’s voice.
‘Baker, this is Tailor. I need to place an advertisement.’
‘Very well, sir. Please, proceed.’
Chapter 36
The Blazer
Aggie had enjoyed a remarkable breakfast, courtesy of Nan and her anger expressed towards the WI. She desperately wished to keep all the photographs that included her mother and uncle. However, Eric and his sisters would soon be here and she’d promised to return them to him so he could replace them without raising suspicion. Aggie would keep the one with the picture of the missing crest. No one would miss just one, surely.
Fully dressed with an hour to spare, she sat at the window of 1a The Keep, hoping the Peabodys would arrive early. Hardly a soul had passed by in the crisp early autumn morning before she spotted an elderly lady walking up the Steep away from the village and towards St Joan’s. The Lady was stooped over and pulling a tartan flanked trolley as she struggled uphill. Without much thought and with photo in hand she unbolted the door and ran after her.
‘Aggie!’ shouted Nan. ‘Wait for Peabodys!’
Nan needn’t have wasted her breath. Agatha continued unabated. Turning the corner, she saw the elderly lady disappear into the graveyard. The Steep, at this point, was moss-covered and slippery and she almost lost her footing as she continued at speed.
‘Mrs Parker, is that you?’ Aggie called out. ‘Nelly, Nelly Parker?’
The graveyard was silent as morning mist engulfed her ankles. The dew on the grass glistened in the morning sun. The moss-covered gravestones were shrouded in a deep mysterious green. On the ground, the recent footprints and wheel-tracks the elderly lady had created, led up to the path and to the rear of the churchyard. Aggie followed them to a secret garden. There, kneeling next to three neatly kept graves, was the elderly woman. Aggie bowed her head. She couldn’t interrupt her now, tending her husband and sons’ place of rest. Aggie turned around and began to walk slowly away.
‘What is it dear?’ the elderly lady called out. Still focusing on the graves.
‘Excuse me, I’m terribly sorry but are you Mrs Parker?’ Agatha asked humbly.
The old lady turned, dark lensed glasses complimenting her headscarf.
‘Yes, dear, I am. How can I help you?’
For some reason Agatha stalled, she thought it was insensitive to ask questions about her mother when Nelly was tending to those she had lost.
‘Come, child, cat got your tongue? You wouldn’t have chased me up the Steep if it wasn’t important.’
Aggie smiled. Mrs Parker had heard her the whole time but had not let on. ‘I’m Agatha.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m not called Nosey Parker for nothing.’ Nelly smiled, looking up at the young lady. ‘You’re Gideon’s evacuee.’
‘That’s right. I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about this photograph.’
‘Come closer over here then. They won’t bite. Nor will I,’ Nelly advised her pointing at the gravestones.
Aggie took a couple of cautious steps forward before handing the photograph over.
Nelly angled the edge of her glasses in order to see. ‘I have a condition, dear. Daylight doesn’t agree with my eyes,’ Nelly explained. ‘Well, I never. They all look so young, so full of promise. It’s such a long time ago.’ Nelly smiled. ‘So how can I help you, Agatha?’
‘You can call me, Aggie.’
‘OK. So how can I help you, Aggie?’
‘In the picture, the girl on the end,’ she said, pointing out her mother. ‘The girl sporting the jacket without the crest … what was her name?’
Nelly peered for a moment and looked back smiling. ‘Why do you wish to know that?’ Nelly asked.
‘Because I’m wearing her blazer.’
‘So you are,’ Nelly replied. ‘Well, I remember she was a twin and at the other end of the photograph is her brother.’
‘Really,’ replied Aggie, feigning a response as if she didn’t know.
‘Really. You should ask my sister. She will know more. She taught them.’
‘Sister Harvey?’ Aggie asked immediately.
‘Well, well. And they call me Nosey Parker. You’ve been here but a few days dear and seem to know a lot already. Yes, Sister Harvey is my sister.’
Agatha blushed, she felt Nelly could see straight through her.
‘Best you be on your way, young lady. Miss Dove doesn’t like latecomers and I’m sure the Peabodys are waiting.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Parker.’ She really does see everything Aggie thought.
‘Call me, Nelly, dear. Most people call me Nosey, behind my back, but I prefer Nelly to my face.’
‘Thank you, Nelly.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m here at this time most days if you ever need me. Tell me, do you like riddles, mysteries. Just like your namesake?’
‘I suppose,’ Aggie replied.
‘Then try to solve this. If you take one from forty-nine how do you end up with forty-two? You may need my sister’s help.’
Aggie was perplexed but smiled with an acknowledging nod to the eccentric old dear and ran back down the Steep to where the Peabodys were already halfway up to meet her.
‘Where ’av you been?’ Eric shouted
‘Nowhere special,’ Aggie replied.
‘Give us the pics then,’ he said, singularly clapping his right hand.
Aggie handed over all but one of them. Eric cast her a doubtful glare but then quickly made off to arrive at school early and repatriate them.
‘I’m sorry about last night, Aggie,’ Elizabeth apologised.
‘It’s OK. Cecile escorted me home,’ Aggie responded.
‘It’s only, well – Gem, show her.’
Gemima, who had hidden herself behind Elizabeth, stepped out. Her hair had been cut to an uneven bob just above shoulder height and had been dyed as black as pitch.
‘Apparently, accosting Huntington-Smythe has created you quite a following amongst the other evacuees,’ Elizabeth explained.
Aggie was lost for words.
‘Wouldn’t get too close though. Gem stinks of boot polish. Don’t you, Gem?’
Gemima bowed her head. No doubt the wicked Mrs McGregor would have made her evening hell. Luckily, she had Elizabeth to protect her.
‘I don’t think you should have done that Gem,’ Aggie said towards the youngest Peabody, offering her a subtle wink in recognition.
Gemima beamed and led them with a spring in her heel back down the hill towards the schoolhouse.
‘Do you like riddles, Elizabeth?’ Aggie asked.
‘That’s a very odd question,’ she replied ‘You’re named after the mistress of crime, not me.’
‘If you take one from forty-nine how do you end up with forty-two?’ Aggie asked her regardless.
Elizabeth just offered a blank stare back. ‘Your uncle never used the word odd when he asked us to be your friends.’ Elizabeth laughed as they continued jovially towards school.
‘If you take one from forty-nine how do you end up with forty-two?’ Aggie asked her again and again.
‘No idea,’ Elizabeth replied.
‘Beats me too,’ Aggie responded to Elizabeth. ‘Sister Harvey is supposed to know though.’
‘I’d tread carefully if I was you, Aggie,’ Elizabeth advised.
‘Why?’ Aggie asked.
‘Huntington-Smythe and her gang of Priories is more than enough to be contesting with. Don’t upset Harvey too. She’s no pushover and she does not care for Governess Dove, so you’ll be without her stepping in if you choose a fight with a teacher.’
�
��I understand,’ Aggie replied as they reached the school earlier than usual. ‘Will you keep watch while I take a look around?’
‘You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said, have you?’ Elizabeth replied, raising her voice.
‘I have, but I just need five minutes inside. Please?’ Aggie begged.
‘Gemima,’ Elizabeth ordered. ‘Play on the outside steps. Warn us if anyone comes. I’ll wait in the foyer near the plant and will cough loudly if anyone does.’
‘Thank you, Elizabeth. I owe you one.’ Aggie smiled.
‘You owe me more than that.’ Elizabeth smiled.
Aggie was light-footed through the corridor and reached Sister Harvey’s classroom in no time at all. Ensuring she was alone, she worked her way clockwise speed-reading anything she could find mounted on the walls. Harvey did not keep any pictures of previous pupils, as Agatha had hoped, but there were certain commendable works of poetry and art amongst the times tables and periodic tables that so dominated the wall space. Having made one circuit of the room in a hurry she slowed down and revisited everything again, but it was still no use. The seven times table was the only place the mention of ‘49’ was apparent. Seven times seven equalled forty-nine. If you take away one then that was ‘48’ how come Nelly had said ‘42’. Aggie could not understand Nelly Parker’s riddle. The classroom would shortly be full of pupils and she so desperately needed to know. Working her way behind Sister Harvey’s desk she took pen and paper from her top drawer and wrote her a letter:
Dearest Sister Harvey,
My host, the eternal prankster Professor Belchambers, has set me a riddle I have no hope of solving. He knows I am terrible at mathematics.
May I ask for your assistance?
Removing 1 from 49 = 42 – or that is where my riddle begins.
Sincerely
Agatha Chatsmore
Just as she finished writing, the sound of Elizabeth’s cough echoed down the corridors. Agatha folded the letter into the top drawer, hoping Sister Harvey might oblige.
Gaggles of noise and lines clearly drawn between evacuee and Priory girl greeted Sister Harvey as she entered her classroom. It was the commonest of sights nearly every morning. Placing the work for the day on her desk just before she ordered its distribution, she noticed her drawer was slightly open. Immediately sliding it out, Aggie watched on with eager eyes. Elizabeth was reading her friend’s body language while the rest of the class continued chattering. Opening and reading the note, Sister Harvey took stock for a while, did not make eye contact, then continued in her familiar tone.
‘Quiet!’ the sister bellowed and set her ticking alarm clock, timed to an hour and a half, on the desk. ‘Geography!’
Henrietta Huntington-Smythe’s hand shot up like a starter’s pistol.
‘Yes, Smythe?’ Harvey asked although her back was half turned. She’d had a premonition about the forthcoming enquiry.
‘Huntington-Smythe, Sister,’ Henrietta corrected her. ‘Maths is usually this morning’s subject, is it not?’
‘You’re quite correct, young lady,’ Sister Harvey agreed, scribing on the board, refusing to turn around and discuss face to face. ‘But I have decided we will switch subjects anti and post meridian. All will be revealed.’
‘My mother is a board member here, Sister, and it was agreed that routine was the best approach for all those children serious about maintaining their education despite the horrors of our country faces.’ Henrietta, always prone to a monologue, was supported by her Priory girls as they falsely smiled across to the evacuees staring on in disbelief.
‘Ahh, yes. Your mother. She is that, correct,’ Harvey replied, not answering the question. ‘You will be aware, therefore, that this evening, your mother holds her annual general meeting of her beloved Woman’s Institute, right here, at the school.’
Henrietta looked back confused.
‘So?’ came the young girl’s reply.
‘It would be disappointing, therefore, to yet again detain you for insubordination. I doubt your mother would appreciate you disrupting her best-laid plans,’ Harvey concluded.
The evacuees began to giggle, Agatha let out a huge laugh.
‘Detention! Chatsmore!’ Sister Harvey shouted, turning around and pointing at Aggie with a deathly stare.
Aggie was just about to issue a tirade in response but Elizabeth pinched her below the desk.
‘Ouch!’ Aggie jumped.
‘Something to say to me, Miss Agatha Chatsmore?’ Sister Harvey said, approaching her and eyeballing her nose to nose.
‘No, Sister. Sorry, Sister,’ Aggie replied dipping her head.
Henrietta Huntington-Smythe was cock-a-hoop that her current adversary had taken the detention when it was rightfully hers. No one messed with the Huntington-Smythes in Ambledown. Certainly not the nuns or vagabond evacuees, as her broad smile suggested.
‘As I was saying,’ Harvey began her lesson again. ‘Geography,’ she said and pointed to the board she had been busily writing on. There was a chalk outline of the south coast of England with wavy lines representing the English Channel beneath. London was labelled as a circle to the north. Dover and its famous white cliffs to the east. Several circles were unlabelled running along the coast marked A, B, and C.
‘‘A’ represents which coastal town infamously preferred by the Prince Regent?’ Sister Harvey asked.
Eagerly all the Priory girls shot their hands up. Not so the evacuees. Scattered from all parts of the United Kingdom they were unlikely to know any of the answers.
‘Anyone from Priory,’ Sister Harvey encouraged them.
‘Brighton!’ came many voices in unison.
‘Correct! Priory, take the lead,’ Sister continued.
‘‘B’ – Need I ask you all?’ Sister smirked.
Again, the Priory were all waving hands and gloating. A couple of evacuees thought they knew, including Elizabeth, but decided not to chance it.
‘Very well – Priory?’
‘Ambledown!’ they all shouted, with much cooing and laughter.
‘Of course, of course, calm down,’ Sister Harvey said. ‘Finally – ‘C’ – Our own famous chalk cliffs.’
‘White cliffs of Dover!’ shouted out an enthusiastic Priory girl.
‘When I have that already written on the boards. Shame on you ,Miss Whychmore. You lose a point,’ Sister Harvey mused.
Huntington-Smythe glared a visual scolding at her Priory alumni.
‘Anyone not from the Priory care to guess. Let’s face it you can’t embarrass yourself as much as Whychmore just has,’ said Sister Harvey uncommonly laughing to herself.
There was stony silence.
‘Chatsmore, you usually have a lot to say?’ the Sister directly engaged Agatha. Aggie had no idea and remained defiantly silent.
‘It’s the Seven Sisters!’ Henrietta screamed out. The thought of not answering too much to bear.
‘Very good, Priory!’ Harvey concluded. ‘You’d do well to pay more attention to the local ladies, Miss Chatsmore. You may even learn a thing or two.’ ‘Right – As Henrietta was so eager for maths, let us lead with the theme of seven! Lucky for some, but not necessarily for all you girls. Seven times tables out loud please, ladies.’
The class moved to their feet and began their rhythmic chanting of the times table as Sister Harvey moved back to the blackboard to orchestrate.
‘Once seven is seven, two sevens are fourteen, three sevens are twenty-one,’ they continued, the rules were such that once they forgot they sat down at their desks.
‘Four sevens are twenty-eight.’
Several younger children were already out of step and sitting at their desks.
‘Very good girls,’ the sister said encouragingly. ‘We shall stop at seven sevens.’
‘Five sevens are thirty-five, six sevens are forty-two and seven sevens are forty-nine! Whooooooo!’ The Priory girls finished with whooping.
‘Forty-nine. Bravo, ladies,’ Sister Harvey
concluded. She walked over to the blackboard and underneath the letter C – where she had written ‘The Seven Sisters’, she wrote the number forty-nine.
‘On my goodness,’ Elizabeth said, whispering to her friend. ‘She’s giving you your first clue.’
For the first time ever, it had to be said that one child was looking forward to her detention.
Chapter 37
The List
‘Do you trust a single word they say, ma’am?’ Thompson asked from the front seat of the sleek black sedan as his superior sat in the back.
‘Let’s just say, I have my suspicions on the extent of their divulgence. They must not leave London, do you hear?’ Wink replied through the cloud of customary cigarette smoke that followed her around. She had spent the past ten minutes turning the flashlight on and off so that the faces transformed from black-and-white smiles at a charitable fundraiser to glowing violet totems from a deceased civilisation many millennia past.
As they pulled up to the monumental stone building carved with mammal gargoyle’s and testament to centuries of animal biology and botanic endeavour, she couldn’t help but sigh at the sheer stupidity of placing army recruitment posters on the entrance to such a beautiful place.
‘I’ll be having words with Malling about you too.’ Wink exhaled under her breath and pointing towards, mirroring Kitchener’s eponymous index finger as she spoke to the poster.
