There was another heavy pounding.
Phyllis caught him by the sleeve. “No, wait. Run to your granddad’s house and warn them. Go out the back way. Quick.”
“What about Dad?”
“God help us, we’ll have to hope he can keep his mouth shut. Run, Jack. Run.”
Jack opened the back door as his mother went to the front. He heard a deep masculine voice say, “Mrs. Walmsley? I’m Sergeant Carson, Military Police. We’re looking for your son, Brian Walmsley.”
As soon as he reached the back entry, Jack took off. A part of him was flooded with relief that they had come for Brian, not him.
“It’s all right, Brian. It’s all right,” Eileen repeated. “They’ve gone. You’re quite safe.”
“Come on out, son,” said Joe, and together he and Eileen helped Brian crawl out of the tiny space. He was shaking so violently he could hardly stand up. His pupils were so dilated the irises had almost disappeared.
“Dad, get me the stool from the bathroom,” said Eileen. Joe did so at once and she made Brian sit down. “Put your head between your knees and take some deep breaths.” She put her hand on the back of his neck. “That’s it. Good. Another one. Good boy.”
Joe’s face was expressionless but Eileen could feel his tension. Redcaps were one thing – he could deal with them, concrete objects – but this kind of hysteria in a man he was at a loss as to how to handle.
“Let’s go downstairs to my room,” she said.
Joe took Brian’s arm and slipped it across his shoulders. They looked like two comrades coming off the battlefield. Eileen was right behind them.
Beatrice silently opened the door to Eileen’s bed-sitting room and all of them went inside.
“I’ll make us some tea,” Beatrice said and hurried off to the kitchen. Joe sat his grandson in the armchair by the fire.
Eileen took her shawl and covered him, then went to her dresser and took out the bottle of brandy. She poured a big shot into a glass.
“Here, swallow this down. You’ve had a shock.”
Brian didn’t need to be told twice. He gulped back the brandy, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned back in the chair.
“I can’t go in that cupboard again. I’d rather die.”
Suddenly they heard Beattie talking to somebody at the back door. All three of them froze.
“Stay here,” said Eileen. “Brian, if you have to, get under the bed.”
She opened the door and looked into the hall. Jack emerged from the kitchen, Beatrice behind him.
“The redcaps are looking for Brian,” he burst out breathlessly. “They came to the house just now. Me mum said to come and warn you.”
“They were here already,” said Eileen. “We got Brian hidden just in time. We’re all in my room. What did your mum and dad say to the redcaps?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. They were at the front door and Mum told me to run and warn you. I went out the back way.”
“Did anybody see you come here?”
“Nobody, Auntie. Nobody’s about.”
Just as well, she thought. One glimpse of Jack’s face and everybody on the street would be at the door, wondering if the Abbotts had received a telegram.
She turned to Joe. “What do you think’s the best thing to do, Dad?” She kept her voice low so Brian couldn’t hear them.
Her father rubbed at his face. “We can’t hide him again like that. He won’t be able to stand it. Let’s hope Ted kept quiet.”
Eileen tapped Jack on the shoulder. “I want you to get over to the factory. Find Mr. Cudmore and tell him I won’t be in today.”
“What if he asks me why?”
“He won’t. Don’t say any more than that, for God’s sake.”
Jack started for the door and she stopped him. “Wait.” She went back into her room and got a piece of paper from her desk. Brian was sitting with his eyes closed, utterly still. She scribbled out her note. Dear Lev, I won’t be able to meet you tonight. Not feeling well. See you tomorrow.
She stuffed the note into an envelope and went back into the hall.
“Here, Jack. I want you to give this to a man by the name of Lev Kaplan. He’s making a film at the factory. If he’s not there, leave it with the guard at the gate. It’s important that he gets it. Got that?”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“Come straight back here when you’ve done that. And don’t run. We’ve got to act as if everything is as usual.”
The boy nodded and Eileen let him out the front door. She was aware that both Joe and Beattie were regarding her curiously.
“The American was supposed to be taking photos of the clinic this afternoon.”
Her dissembling came so glibly she felt a pang of shame. But however much she loved her parents, Eileen did not feel ready to share her new tender, tumultuous feelings. Especially not right now.
She smiled at her mother. “Now then, Mum, how about that tea you were going to make?”
Eileen and Joe went out into the hall.
“We’ve got to get him out of here, Eileen. He’s going to crack completely if we don’t. We need those identity papers he was going on about, and we need them soon. Now, it’s my feeling that our Jack and Brian are in on something together. Frankly, at this moment I don’t want to enquire too closely. What’s your feeling?”
She nodded. “I agree totally.”
Joe grimaced. “Eileen, my pet, I never dreamed we’d ever be in a position like this. Redcaps stomping through the house, us all telling lies like we were criminals …”
Eileen came over and put her arms around him. “Me neither, Dad. But you know what? I’m proud of you.”
When Tyler arrived at the factory, an immaculate Cudmore, smooth-haired and close-shaven, was waiting for him.
“You’re a great morale booster, Mr. Cudmore.”
The secretary turned rather pink. “Really, sir? How so?”
“You manage to convey order even in the midst of chaos.”
“Thank you, sir. I do think these things are important, even in wartime. I should say, especially in wartime. Polished shoes can do wonders for the spirits.”
“Right.” Tyler took his place behind the desk. “Speaking of shoes, I wonder what you can tell me about Michael Smith, the dillie man. Do you know if he was ever in the army?”
Cudmore looked puzzled. “I’m not sure, sir. I can look at his application record. He’s only worked here for three months, so I’m sure we still have it on file.”
“Excellent. So what have you got for me?”
“There are a few more workers in today that you haven’t spoken to. I assume you will be wanting to interview them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cudmore. By the way, has Miss Ringwald-Brown clocked in yet? I thought I’d have another try at talking to her.”
“No, sir. I did check before you arrived. I believe the young lady in question has called in to say she is not well and won’t be at work today.”
“Do you have her address? Perhaps if she’s under the weather I should go to see her instead.”
“That would be in my files, sir. I shall bring it for you.”
Tyler noticed that there was a Thermos on the desk. “For me?”
“Yes, sir. I took the liberty of making you some tea. That way you won’t have to bother going to the canteen.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cudmore.”
In fact, Tyler would have been more than happy to join the workers on their break. Professionally, as he’d said to his constable, mingling with the crowd, listening, paying attention could pay dividends.
The secretary stepped back into his usual position by the door and close to the wall. “Mr. Endicott sends his apologies, sir, but he won’t be in today. He has urgent work to attend to on his estate.” He gave a small cough. “He’s quite highly strung, appearances to the contrary. He was dreadfully upset by what happened yesterday.”
“Not half as upset as the poor girl who’s lost
her hair,” retorted Tyler.
“Quite so. I did take the liberty of ringing the hospital this morning. Miss Tomlin is out of danger but still in isolation for the time being.” The cough again. “I was going to take it upon myself to collect money for some flowers and a card to send to her.”
“Good idea, Mr. Cudmore. Add this.” Tyler fished in his pocket and found a couple of shillings, then he began to unscrew the Thermos lid. “All right, let’s get going. I’d like to wrap this up today if it’s at all possible.”
Jack was seated at the dining room table between Joe and Eileen. He was fiddling with a spoon, twisting and turning it in his hands. They had talked Brian into going back upstairs.
Joe shifted his bad leg. “Now, son, I’m not going to pry any more than I need to, but you can see what a heap of trouble we’ve got on our hands. We’ve got to get our Brian out of here, and the sooner the better. Now, he was talking to us about getting hold of a passport so he could get to Ireland for the duration. Do you have any idea where he was thinking he might get such an item?”
Jack shook his head. Too quickly and too hard. “No, Granddad.”
“I’d ask him, but he’s in no condition at the moment. So I thought if there was any way you could help out, we’d all appreciate it. Maybe he let slip a name, for instance.” Joe’s voice was quiet, but as usual he conveyed an authority that was unmistakable.
Jack was looking so terrified that Eileen couldn’t help herself. She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Jack, you don’t have to be scared of us. We’re your family. But Brian was positive he could get a passport for himself and Vanessa. Is it true what he believes?”
“I think so, Auntie.”
“Who’s getting it for him? We might be able to speed things up.” Joe leaned forward slightly and Eileen saw her nephew flinch.
“He did sort of mention somebody … I don’t know him myself but … he lives in one of the back-to-backs near Water Street.”
Joe scowled. “Why aren’t I surprised about that? Go on, son. Could you get in touch with this person, do you think?”
“I could try, Granddad.”
“Will he want money?”
Jack nodded.
“Any idea how much?”
“No, Granddad.”
Joe turned to Eileen. “What do you think? A false identity these days – what are we talking about? Two quid? Ten? Twenty?”
“I don’t know, Dad. They probably take as much as they can get.”
Joe stood up and went to the sideboard. “Let’s start with that, then, and if we have to we’ll come up with more.” He reached into a drawer and, fishing about at the back, took out a tin that had once held toffees. “We’re going to have to borrow from your gran’s housekeeping for now.” He stirred the pile of coins in the tin. “A bit short of three pounds.”
“I have a couple of pounds in my purse,” said Eileen. “I’ll get them.”
“All right.” Joe took an envelope from the drawer. He tipped the money from the tin into the envelope, then paused and removed a couple of shillings. “I’d better leave her something for shopping.”
Eileen returned with the two pounds and Joe added them to the envelope. He handed it to his grandson.
“That’s five pounds altogether. See if you can find this fellow. We need to get things in motion right away.”
Jack stashed the envelope in his pocket.
“Off you go, then,” said Joe. “Fast as you can. Come back here as soon as you’ve seen him.”
“Yes, Granddad. I’ll just let our Brian know I’m going.”
He scurried off upstairs before either Joe or Eileen could protest.
Brian was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, dragging on a cigarette. The small room was thick with smoke.
“I’m going to take some money to Donny for your papers …” Jack’s voice tailed off as he waited to see how his brother would react.
Brian shot bolt upright. “There’s not supposed to be money exchanged. What did you tell them? Did you mention the timers?”
“Nothing, Brian. Nothing, honest. I don’t even know about timers or anything. Granddad and Auntie Eileen just thought they’d have to pay.”
“So they will,” said Brian, letting out a deep breath. “Knowing Donny Jarvis, he wouldn’t keep his end of the bargain if his life depended on it. Of course he’d want money as well as – forget what I just said about timers, Jack. It’s nothing like that. He just wanted me to fix something for him.”
“Yes, Brian.”
Brian lit another cigarette from the butt of the first. “My end’s done. The bag is in the wardrobe. You can take it to Donny.”
Jack went to the wardrobe and removed the shopping bag that he’d delivered what seemed like eons ago.
“Hide it under your coat,” said Brian sharply. “You don’t want anyone asking difficult questions.”
Jack tucked the bag inside his jacket.
“How much money are you taking him?” asked Brian.
“Five pounds.”
“God, that’s nothing. Donny will laugh his head off.”
“That’s all Granddad and Auntie Eileen could come up with for now.”
Brian scowled. “Tell Donny we’ll get some more. But tell him I’ve got to get out of this house soon or I’ll blow the whole thing. I don’t give a shite.”
Suddenly he jumped up and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Got that, Jack? Donny Jarvis isn’t the only one with power here.” He gave Jack a pinch. “Are you clear? Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“Yes, Brian.”
“Repeat it back to me.”
“We can come up with more money but Donny has to hand over the papers before he gets it.”
Brian burst out laughing. “Well done, little titch. That’s it. Now off you go. Report back to me.”
Bert Teale opened Donny’s door. “Well, if it isn’t the little pansy. What you want, missie?”
“I need to talk to Donny.”
“Did you bring stuff?”
“No, I—”
“Well, he don’t want to talk to you lessen you bring stuff.” He started to close the door but a voice from inside the room called out.
“Let him in, Bertie. Didn’t you hear him? He needs to talk.” Donny giggled, which Jack found very odd indeed, coming from him.
“Come in then, pansy,” said Bert. He yanked Jack into the house by the collar.
Donny was lying on the couch, and curled up on the floor beside him, like a dog, was Thelma. She appeared to be asleep. Jack hoped desperately that she wasn’t dead. The room was filled with smoke, strange and acrid-smelling, but not unpleasant. Donny was puffing on a long tube attached to a round pot on the floor that was making funny bubbling sounds. He actually smiled at Jack. “Welcome, you little sod. What is it you want?”
Jack didn’t know if he should say anything in front of Bert and Thelma, but he was too afraid to consider much beyond the immediate task. “I was wondering if you, er … had them goods you were going to give me for my brother. I’ve got the bag …” His voice tailed off.
“Bert, go take a piss,” Donny said. Thelma didn’t stir.
Bert knew better than to protest, although he looked sullen and flicked Jack hard on the cheek as he went by. Donny settled back on the couch. His eyelids drooped.
“Now then, our Jackie, you have to be careful what you say. Careless talk costs lives. How is Brian doing, by the way?”
“Not so well, Donny. He’d like to leave as soon as possible. He says to tell you he wants you to keep your end of the bargain.”
“He does, does he?” Donny waved the pipe contraption in the air, then sucked on it deeply, holding his breath before blowing out the smoke. “It’s dear to get what he wants. Very dear. Say, fifty pounds. Tell him if he can come up with that, I’ll get him the goods.”
Jack took the envelope out of his coat. “I don’t have that much. But you can have this now and the rest later.”
He had no idea if Brian would be able to get the money, but that wasn’t his problem. At least, he hoped it wasn’t.
In spite of his drowsy state, Donny was alert enough to count the money in the envelope. He dropped it on the floor. “That’s a joke, that is, little Jackie. Your Brian won’t get a pot to shit in for that.”
Thelma stirred. Donny moved his foot and rested it on her haunches.
Jack tried to avoid looking at the girl. “Sorry, Donny. I’ll try to get the rest for you. When can he have the stuff?”
More drawing on the pipe. More bubbling. Then Donny waved the mouthpiece in Jack’s direction. “Tell him you’ve got to make the drop at the Cowan house, right after blackout. You have the money, he can have the goods. Simple as that. You can put it in the oven.”
“Thanks, Donny.” Jack placed the bag gingerly on the floor and turned to go.
“What’s your hurry?” said Donny. “Take the weight off your beaters. You’ve been a good kid, all told. Here …” He held out the pipe. “Take a puff. You’ll like it.”
“No, no thanks, Donny. I’d better get back.”
“Suit yourself.”
“What is it?” Jack couldn’t help but ask.
“Just baccy. A rather special kind of baccy, mind you. A friend got it for me in return for a couple of favours. It comes from darkie country. It’s called ganja.”
He took another drag on the pipe. Jack seized his chance and sidled to the door. “I’ll pass on the message, Donny. Tonight after blackout. Put the money in the oven. Fifty pounds.”
Donny didn’t seem to hear. Jack opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. Bert was leaning against the wall, hunched into his coat. Jack didn’t give him another opportunity to slap or pinch but took off into the street. The funny tobacco smell clung to his clothes.
At Tyler’s request, Cudmore had provided a thick swatch of employee files. They had set up young Eagleton at a desk in the office. He looked a little daunted when Tyler told him he had to go through them.
“Just pull out any that you think we should examine more closely. You don’t have to go back further than three months, but see if there’s anybody who’s been moving around from factory to factory. Also, make sure as best you can that the references are genuine. Let me know if a letter is signed by somebody calling himself Goebbels. Or Churchill, for that matter.”
Beware This Boy Page 22
