The Secrets of Latimer House

by Jules Wake

  ‘Don’t be. I’m trying not to let it get me down, but if Freddie asks me one more time if I’m looking forward to the dance, I might just slap him.’

  ‘Don’t you want to go?’

  Evelyn huffed out another sigh. ‘I could take it or leave it. If I go, I’ll have to put on a brave face which is the last thing I feel like doing, but as Judith’s not going, I might stay and keep her company.’

  ‘Judith’s not going?’

  ‘No. She says it’s wrong to be enjoying herself when people elsewhere are suffering.’

  Betty pulled a face. ‘But what’s that got to do with going to the dance?’ She didn’t understand someone martyring themselves for something that they couldn’t change or help. Did that make her shallow or frivolous?

  ‘You and I know that, but I think hearing what she did has crystallised everything that has happened to her. She’s lost such a lot.’

  ‘All the more reason to celebrate what she’s gained. She was looking forward to going to the dance with Walther.’

  ‘She’s already told him she’s not going with him. I think they’ve disagreed about it.’

  ‘Lord. Talk about hair shirt. I don’t understand that woman at all.’

  ‘Yes, you do, you understand her a lot better than you think.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because you both want the same things, ultimately. What we all want. Safety, love and security.’

  ‘How did you get to be so wise?’

  Evelyn laughed. ‘I’m not sure I am.’

  Betty did another twirl for the mirror and watched the skirt of the dress flare up to flash her legs. The periwinkle-blue crepe fabric made her eyes look almost violet and the sweetheart neckline, padded shoulders and fitted waist accentuated her figure. The dress was going to use up all eleven of her and her ma’s combined clothing coupons but she knew that she wouldn’t be leaving Selfridges without it. In her head she could picture herself spinning and dancing with Carl at the dance tomorrow night. It was a shame that Judith and Evelyn wouldn’t be coming too; she’d been rather looking forward to having some fun with them, the way that they had done that magical day at Evelyn’s house. She’d also hoped they might act as a buffer between herself and Carl in case he didn’t ask her to dance. Which was silly, because he said he would.

  With one last spin she stepped forward to the mirror and gave herself a stern look. ‘Betty Connors, you’ve got it bad. You need to remember you’re not Cinderella. For all you know, he might have a wife back in the US. He could be shooting you a line. Life isn’t like the movies. Don’t go getting carried away.’ She wagged a finger at herself, that strong streak of practicality rising up. ‘Don’t go losing your heart.’ But when a man came and helped you rebuild a hen house, how could you not lose just a little bit of your heart to him? He’d sat in Ma’s kitchen in his shirt sleeves – and boy, was she was glad he’d covered up, that handsome body of his had set her pulse rattling along – eating eggs and bacon as if it were the most normal thing in the world, chatting away to Ma and Jane about all the things he found funny in England compared to the way it was ‘back home’. He made Jane laugh and teased her, he flattered Ma and complimented her on her cooking. The ruddy man had charmed the pants off both of them.

  And as for her, she was a little bit addicted to those delicious kisses of his and when he smiled into her eyes as if she were the only woman in England, there was a pang in her heart as if an arrow had been shot right into her chest. She blew out a sharp breath. ‘Yeah, Betty, you’ve got it bad.’ She smiled at herself in the mirror. ‘But maybe dreams do come true and handsome princes stick around.’

  Reluctantly she undid the buttons and put her uniform back on and checked her watch. She had plenty of time to catch the train back to Latimer, which would get her there in time for a quick bite of tea before going on shift at four. Outside in the bright sunshine, she decided that as it was so lovely out, she’d walk back up to Baker Street, cutting up through Manchester Square to Marylebone rather than catch the underground.

  With her new dress in its bag swinging in her hand, she turned left outside the front of the store, ready to turn left again. As she did there was a screech of brakes as one of the big red buses veered across the road, clipping an oncoming one. Almost immediately a crowd gathered and a heavily pregnant woman, who looked as if she were close to fainting, was brought to the pavement. From what Betty could see, she was the cause of the accident, having swooned on the edge of the road and fallen inwards. She was being well supported by a host of civic-minded shoppers and a couple of air-raid wardens, who’d darted down from the side road, were helping to direct the traffic and talking to the respective bus drivers.

  Deciding there was nothing she could do, she wasn’t about to stand and watch like the other gormless idiots, she rounded the corner and set off up Duke Street, glad that no one had been hurt. The street was surprisingly quiet after the bustle on Oxford Street, in fact completely deserted, which was unusual. London in the sunshine always made her smile, although there was a puff of dust above coming from one of the buildings. Puzzled, she looked up and from behind her she heard a loud bellow.

  ‘Oy, Miss!’

  She turned and saw both of the air-raid wardens waving at her as if trying to flag her down.

  ‘The road’s closed. You’re not supposed—’ Their words were cut off by a thunderous rumble, vibrating up through her feet. The building in front of her shook, rocking side to side, teetering as if it couldn’t decide which way to fall. She stood transfixed for a moment, as indecisive as a shocked rabbit. Even as the walls majestically started to sink into themselves, she was paralysed by a sense of unreality. The upper windows began to pop out, the noise like gun cracks as showers of glass exploded, raining out and down.

  Unable to urge her legs into action, she stood and stared, dimly aware of the shouts of the two air-raid wardens. Then as two more windows cracked out, snapping out into the air, she gathered herself, clutched her precious bag to her chest and turned to run. With a horrifying groan, the building began to crumble and fall, and she was caught up in the hailstorm of bricks tumbling down onto the pavement. It was like being in the centre of a thunderstorm as the walls crashed down and a rising cloud of dust enveloped her.

  With faltering footsteps, she tried to rein in the panic threatening to stall her, but then found the momentum to plough on, ignoring the sudden sharp sting that slashed across her face. Blinking as the dust scoured her eyes, she realised she’d lost the sight in one of them and everything had turned a vivid red. There was an unpleasant stickiness to her cheek. Just as she raised a hand to try and swipe it away, a heavy thud caught her on her back. It robbed her of her breath. A second thud on her shoulder made her knees buckle and then, terrified, she looked up and saw that there was no escaping the roaring monster bearing down on her. She dropped the precious dress in its bag and threw her hands up, trying to cover her head, and then as suffocating dust rasped at her throat, filling her nose, everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Evelyn

  Evelyn turned over again, the sheets rustling as she sighed to herself. Despite being exhausted, sleep seemed impossible. Her head was full of thoughts of that final interview with Peter. If only she could wind the clock back and approach it differently.

  She turned again and squinted through the dim light at Betty’s bed. She dug under her pillow and fished out her torch to check the time. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning. Where was Betty? Evelyn knew the offices on the first floor had closed down for the night because she’d dropped some paperwork in as that miserable Sergeant Major Baxter was locking up. Baxter had complained bitterly about having to unlock the filing cabinets to put away the folder. Evelyn frowned, an instinctive prickle of unease troubling her. Betty took her work seriously; it wasn’t like her to stay up late, not when she was on shift the next morning. She sat up and shoved aside her bedding and padded across to Betty’
s bed.

  Where could she be? Was she with the Major somewhere, having a secret tryst? The more Evelyn thought about it, the more she knew that wasn’t likely. Major Wendermeyer was a gentleman and Betty, for all her confidence, wasn’t the fast sort. What if Bert had attacked her again?

  ‘Judith!’ She shone the torch towards her bed.

  ‘What?’ came the bleary reply.

  ‘Betty isn’t here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Judith pushed her way up out of the shadows of the bedclothes.

  ‘Betty. She’s not here. I’m worried something has happened to her.’

  ‘Bert?’

  ‘Possibly. Did you see when she came back from London? Did she come into the Mess for tea before she went on duty?’

  ‘No.’ Judith pushed her hand through her hair, blinking in the torchlight. ‘In fact, Elsie asked me where she was. I said she’d probably gone straight on duty because she was running late.’

  ‘What if she didn’t come back from London?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve got this feeling.’ As she said the words out loud, she knew they sounded ridiculous. What had got into her? Naval Intelligence Officer Brooke-Edwards was the one whom people relied on for practicality and common sense.

  ‘Let’s go and ask someone, then. Sergeant Major Baxter.’

  Evelyn stared at her, surprised by her quick acceptance. ‘What, now? In the middle of the night?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Judith decisively, in her usual practical fashion, as if it were the most logical thing to do.

  ‘Oh God, do we have to? She was in a foul mood when I saw her earlier.’

  ‘She’s billeted in the house. I had to deliver a message to her last week, I know where her room is. I’ll go.’ Typical Judith, once she’d decided on a course of action, she was like a train, determined to follow the track to the very end of the line.

  ‘You will? But what if I’m just being…’

  Judith huffed out a small laugh. ‘Evelyn, you’re never “just being”, so if you’re worried, I’m worried.’

  She was already out of bed pulling on a cardigan and digging her uniform shoes out from under the bed.

  The two of them crept down the servants’ stairs, along the hall of the silent, dark house to the main staircase. Evelyn shivered, not from the cold but from the oppressive atmosphere. At night all the dark secrets of the house seemed to come together, whispering in shadowy corners. It creeped her out, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

  Crossing the head of the stairs, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, Judith led them, marching down another long corridor, until they reached the last door on the left.

  ‘It’s this one.’

  Evelyn swallowed, a rare moment of disquiet shaking her usual confidence. What if she were making a fuss about nothing? What if Betty had gone for a romantic walk? She put a hand on Judith’s arm.

  ‘Maybe—’ But before she could say another word to halt her, Judith had rapped smartly on the door.

  Evelyn’s heart dropped to her boots. This had been a mistake. She was overreacting because her system was all in a spin over Peter. That was it. Worrying about him had made her anxious and neurotic. This was a terrible mistake. She wanted to turn tail and run. Baxter would tear them off a strip. She was a cantankerous old bat at the best of times and would not be impressed at being woken in the middle of the night, especially not by Evelyn, who’d already annoyed her once tonight.

  The door jerked open.

  ‘Yes,’ snapped Baxter, her bearing as straight and uncompromising as ever. Even after being yanked from her bed by an unexpected summons, her robe was neatly belted as if she meant business.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but we’re a little concerned about our friend, Sergeant Connors.’

  ‘As well you might be,’ came the furious reply. ‘I’ll be reporting her tomorrow.’

  ‘R-reporting her?’ Judith’s voice quavered.

  ‘Didn’t turn up for her shift today! Going AWOL is a serious offence. She won’t be batting those baby blues to get out of this one, no matter how good an analyst she is. Was there anything else?’

  Judith clutched the Sergeant Major’s sleeve and Evelyn had to bite back a smile at the affronted expression on Baxter’s face as she shook Judith’s hand off.

  ‘Sergeant Major, we’re worried. Betty went into London yesterday morning.’

  ‘Well, that explains it. Silly girl has probably gone off with someone. Although…’ Baxter paused, her eyes narrowing and she tilted her head. For a few seconds she seemed to be weighing things up. Then with a reluctant scrunch of her face she said, ‘She might not be able to type for toffee but she’s got a damn fine brain and she’s not afraid of hard work. She’s actually one of my more committed girls.’

  ‘She takes her work very seriously,’ said Judith with an encouraging ‘you know this as well as I do’ lilt to her voice. ‘It really isn’t like her.’

  Baxter’s mouth quirked. ‘No, you’re right. She deserves the benefit of the doubt. However, there is nothing to be done at this time of the night. I suggest you get some sleep and I’ll make some enquiries first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Enquiries?’ prompted Evelyn.

  ‘I’ll speak to her next of kin. If anything has happened they’ll have been informed.’

  ‘Y-yes, of course.’ Evelyn’s head really was all over the place. She should have known that.

  ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Goodnight.’ And with that Baxter closed the door in their faces.

  Evelyn released a heavy sigh. ‘I’m never going to be able to sleep.’

  ‘Well, we can’t go marching down to Mrs Connors’ place in the middle of the night,’ said Judith. ‘We don’t even know which house it is. There’s nothing we can do now. Baxter’s right. We’ll try and sleep and then see what Mrs Connors has to say in the morning.’

  ‘I bet Baxter doesn’t even know Betty’s from the village. We could go down there.’

  Judith grasped her arm. ‘Not now. As soon as we wake up in the morning, we’ll go. Like she said, there’s nothing we can do now.’

  ‘All right, but I bet we don’t get a wink of sleep.’

  They did sleep but it was the sort of fitful dozing that didn’t provide any real sense of rest, and when Evelyn awoke with the dawn chorus, Judith was already awake.

  ‘Let’s go down to the Mess. Elsie might know something. She seems to know everything that goes on in the village and she can give us directions to Mrs Connors’ house.’

  They washed and dressed quickly and as soon as they were both ready, rushed down the grand staircase, their hands running lightly over the glossy banister.

  Evelyn hadn’t been to the Sergeants’ Mess before and was surprised by the rabbit warren of stairs and corridors leading to the old servants’ kitchen, reminiscent of Mrs Dawtry’s domain at home. Down here, despite the spartan appearance in comparison with the Officers’ Mess, there was a cosy, slightly fuggy atmosphere as large steaming pans boiled on the huge Aga. Judith made a beeline for a tall, slender woman pouring tea from a huge teapot into a row of solid-looking green china teacups, very different to the bone china cups used by the officers. Evelyn frowned at the sight; they were all here doing important work. Were these people less useful in any way just because of their rank? It seemed an absurdity to her.

  ‘Elsie.’

  ‘Hello, lovie. You’re up early. Want a cuppa? I’ve just made this pot.’

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about Betty, have you?’

  ‘Betty? No. Everything all right?’

  ‘We’re a bit worried about her. She went to London yesterday and she doesn’t seem to have come back.’

  ‘Have you checked with her mum?’

  ‘No, we were just about to do that. Can you tell us where she lives?’

  Elsie gave them extremely clear directions to the cottage at the end of the
terrace opposite the green, next to the timber-framed cottages.

  ‘How long will it take us? We’re on shift in an hour,’ said Evelyn. They didn’t want all three of them on report for being AWOL.

  ‘Tell you what, why don’t you borrow my bicycle and young Connie’s, the kitchen maid. She won’t mind.’

  Judith looked at Evelyn and without saying anything they both walked straight towards the back door of the kitchen and Elsie, following them, pointed out the two bicycles propped against the wall outside. ‘I’ll tell Connie, although you’ll be back before she’ll have had chance to draw breath. It’ll be busy this morning. I do hope Betty’s all right. I’m sure she will be, she’s always had luck on her side.’ But Elsie’s words held a touch of doubt and she cast a glance heavenward, her lips moving as if she were uttering a quick prayer. ‘I’ll be watching for you coming back, girls.’

  ‘Thanks, Elsie,’ said Judith.

  ‘She’s a sweetheart,’ observed Evelyn as they took the bicycles out of the kitchen courtyard, turning the corner onto the driveway.

  ‘Yes, she is. We always get preferential treatment, or rather I do because I’m with Betty.’

  ‘Everyone loves Betty,’ said Evelyn.

  ‘They do,’ said Judith, her face suddenly thoughtful.

  ‘God, I hope she’s all right.’

  They pedalled down to the village and found the cottage, thanks to Elsie’s clear instructions.

  ‘Do you think we should knock on the front door?’ asked Evelyn.

  Judith shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Why not?’

  ‘Some people use the back door all the time. I’m not sure.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d feel comfortable walking through their garden. We don’t know Mrs Connors.’

  ‘True.’ Evelyn raised a hand and rapped hard on the wooden front door, which had seen better days.

  It took a while and they could hear bolts being dragged back, the scrape of something being moved and finally the door opened with a creak and a groan. A woman peered out at them.