A Stranger in Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  He stayed away from her as they went round a tight bend and then began to accelerate again, another attack coming, she was sure. He must be a madman.

  There didn’t seem to be any houses nearby or other drivers around so she didn’t dare stop. But for how long would she be able to avoid him? The next time he tried she swerved out into the middle of the road as well as accelerating, which made it harder to keep control of her car but at least he missed again and he was having trouble controlling his own vehicle too.

  She groaned in relief as she saw another car waiting at a narrow side road for them to pass so that it could pull out on to the main road. Its driver must have seen her attacker’s attempt to drive her off the road, surely?

  When the newcomer turned onto the road behind her pursuer, he began sounding his horn again and again. She didn’t dare take her hands off the steering wheel to sound her own horn in reply.

  The attacking driver realised he’d been seen and veered suddenly round her. As he passed, he tried to bump into the side of her car. But she’d braked hard as soon as he was out from behind her. Thank goodness her training in driving ambulances had included how to drive in muddy and slippery conditions where other cars could lose control!

  She had a fleeting glimpse of a figure with a cap pulled down and a scarf across his mouth. She couldn’t make out what he looked like, but he seemed to be a tall man judging by the position of his face above the steering wheel. To her relief he began moving away down the road at a dangerously fast speed.

  She let her car slow down, wondering if she dared stop, but she was shaking so hard now that the crisis had passed that she simply had to pull over. When the car was still, she leant her head on her arms on the steering wheel and groaned aloud, waiting for the shaking to pass.

  Someone tapped on the driver’s window and with a huge effort she looked sideways.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness!’ The man was a minister of religion, with the white collar showing clearly. He had silver hair and the sort of kind expression that made you trust him instinctively, so she felt safe to open the car door.

  ‘I saw what happened. I’m John Charters, minister of the parish church in Little Gibden just down the road. That lunatic was trying to ram your car! Are you all right, miss?’

  ‘I think so. I’m just a bit … well, upset.’

  ‘Anyone would be. Do you know who that man in the other car was?’

  ‘No. He came up behind me suddenly a short time ago and started trying to force me off the road. I can’t think why. If you hadn’t appeared, I think he’d have succeeded, too, because his Daimler was much heavier than my Ford. He bumped into the rear of my car once but not hard enough to shove me off the road. After I realised what he was doing, I mostly managed to avoid him.’

  ‘You must be a good driver.’ He studied her uniform. ‘Well, you would be in your job. Look, if you follow me, we’ll take the next left turn and go into the village where I live. We must report this to the police at once.’

  ‘I just want to get back to the hospital where I’m stationed.’

  ‘Due back on duty, are you?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’ It felt good not to have to explain her uniform and duties to him.

  ‘I do think you need to report it, my dear young lady. Anyway, that fellow may be waiting for you further down the road. He must be stark, staring mad and he may attack you again or someone else if he’s not caught. It’s a good thing I was coming home from a visit to a parishioner and waiting to pull out on to the main road just then. I saw some of what happened and can bear witness to that.’

  ‘I might be lying dead in a ditch by now if you hadn’t been there, Mr Charters.’ She shuddered.

  ‘Look, I don’t think you’ll be fit to drive very far tonight, my dear. You’re as white as a sheet.’

  ‘I’ll be all right once I get a cup of tea and something to eat.’

  ‘If you follow my car, I’ll lead you to the police station. We’ll go slowly.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My wife and I live nearby so you can come home with me afterwards and she’ll make you something to eat. You can stay the night with us, if you like. We can always find a bed for someone serving our country. And we have a telephone so you can let your commander – or is it a Matron? – know what’s happened.’

  What Mr Charters was suggesting made sense and she was so weary she gave in.

  The police sergeant was just as kind and fatherly, utterly horrified by what had happened to her. After taking the details of the strange car from her and the minister, he phoned through to headquarters straight away to report a dangerous lunatic on the loose. The person he spoke to said Miss Jones was to stay the night at the minister’s house, as he’d invited, and someone would come to accompany her back to the hospital the next morning. Bella was still too shaky to do anything but agree.

  So then she had to phone Matron to let her know she’d be late, which led to more shocked questions and explanations when all she wanted was to lie down and sleep.

  The kindly couple made her very welcome at their home, but it seemed a long time till she was able to go to bed and change into the plain flannel nightdress she’d been offered by Mrs Charters.

  ‘From the poor box, I’m afraid, Miss Jones, because my clothes wouldn’t fit you, I’m so short and scrawny. But the nightdress has been thoroughly washed, I promise you.’

  ‘I’m grateful for it.’

  Although it wasn’t a cold day, her hostess also supplied her with an earthenware hot-water bottle wrapped in a neat quilted cover. The gentle warmth it radiated was exactly the sort of comfort Bella needed.

  She still had trouble falling asleep, though, because images kept going round and round in her mind, and she couldn’t stop worrying. Had this attack been arranged by the Cotterells? And if so, by Spencer Cotterell or his mother? Or by both of them working together? If so, the man must have known she’d be travelling home in Philip’s car.

  Had Mr Shadwell rung them to tell them what had happened to her?

  The Cotterells would make formidable enemies, she was sure. Their utter confidence that they could make the world do as they wanted was a weapon she didn’t own.

  She’d gone along with the idea of a raving lunatic trying to murder someone put forward by the policeman, because you couldn’t accuse people like the Cotterells of such an action without proof. But who else could it have been except them? Someone they’d hired or Spencer Cotterell himself.

  Were they trying to kill her or frighten her into doing as they wanted? Surely not kill? They were people of standing in the community, not criminals. But she could have been killed in a car accident, as hundreds of people were each year.

  Should she have accepted the offer to buy the cottage and car for the sake of peace, as even Mr Marley had suggested? After all, she’d still have had the annuity, a more than enough amount of money for her to live on. She still hadn’t got used to the idea that she need never work again.

  But no, it went against all that was in her to give in to bullying. She just couldn’t do it.

  She placed one hand on her stomach. It was still flat, but she was beginning to feel that Matron might have guessed correctly. Her monthlies had always been irregular, but she had never before been so late. She should have realised sooner what that meant, but she’d been lost in a fog of grief.

  If she told the Cotterells she was expecting Philip’s child, would that stop them attacking her? Or would it make things worse? They might try to take her child away from her, even if they didn’t want it themselves.

  No, better to find some way to hide her condition, and then bring the child up herself, pretending to be a widow.

  Matron had advised on the phone to get some sleep and leave thinking about what had happened until the morning, when she would be more alert. But would a solution become any more obvious then? Bella doubted it.

  It wasn’t till she pulled the hot-water bottle higher and cuddled it to her chest
that she managed to fall asleep. She dreamt of the few, the very few times she and Philip had been able to spend the night together. She’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  She wept when she woke, because he wasn’t there, never would be again, and didn’t even know that she might be having his child.

  She had breakfast with the minister and his wife, afterwards waiting impatiently for a policeman to arrive. She was pleasantly surprised when a young man turned up just before nine o’clock on a motorcycle. He wasn’t in any kind of uniform.

  ‘Sergeant’s compliments, Miss Jones, but he thinks it’ll be better if I follow you back. Are you going back to the hospital or to your lodgings?’

  ‘To the hospital.’

  ‘Right. Sarge doesn’t like the thought of that lunatic lying in wait for you again, but just let him try to attack you and I’ll arrest him before you can say Bob’s your uncle. Oh, and I’ll start back as soon as I see you into the hospital grounds, if you don’t mind. We are rather busy.’

  ‘Please thank the sergeant for sending you. I must admit I was worrying about whether whoever it was would try again, but I feel guilty taking up valuable manpower when there’s a war on.’

  ‘You’re valuable too, Miss Jones. We’d hate to lose one of our ambulance drivers. A lot of men will have benefitted from your driving skills, and it can’t be easy with some of the strange, converted vehicles they’re using as ambulances on the home front. No, we’re not letting anyone hurt you.’

  She loved his youthful enthusiasm and his cheerfulness. It made the world seem a better place.

  The roads were quiet, with more horse traffic than motor vehicles. Her young protector followed her back to the hospital, sometimes in view, other times out of sight. But there was no sign of the Daimler and no other vehicle followed her car for more than an incidental mile or two, thank goodness.

  Bella waved goodbye to her escort as she turned into the gateway and drove round to the rear of the hospital. She felt she ought to see Matron and discuss what had happened before she went back to her lodgings. The older woman could be sharp-tongued at times and kept iron discipline among the VADs, but no one who was in trouble hesitated to confide in her. She could not only be kind but was very wise.

  After parking her car, Bella made her way to Matron’s office and was shown in immediately by the clerk outside the door.

  Matron studied her for a moment or two before speaking. ‘How are you, Jones? You look exhausted.’

  ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’

  ‘I was shocked at what happened to you. Are you still sure you have no idea who was trying to harm you?’

  ‘I can’t be certain so I didn’t want to say it on the phone, because you never know whether the operator is listening in. I’d guess it’s a member of Philip’s family, probably his brother. The police talked about a lunatic, but I don’t think that’s who was to blame.’

  ‘I agree. There aren’t that many lunatics running loose with a car at their disposal. Tell me more about your legacy. Was it something that would upset Philip’s family?’

  ‘It’s definitely upset them.’ Bella went over it all again, including the offers to buy at ridiculously low prices, which had the older woman huffing in indignation.

  When she’d finished, Matron sat for a few moments looking thoughtful, then said, ‘Well, the legacy solves one of my problems.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You can stop work immediately and take refuge in your cottage.’

  ‘The Cotterells know about the place in Malmesbury, so it wouldn’t be safe to go there, and Mr Marley wasn’t sure what condition the other would be in. It’s smaller and it’s been standing empty for two or three months.’

  ‘You could sell the Malmesbury house back to the Cotterells at a fair price and not tell them about the other.’

  Bella nodded. She’d been wondering about doing just that. But would they leave her alone if she did it? Spencer Cotterell might not be an outright lunatic, but he certainly wasn’t completely sane, or he’d not have tried to hurt her.

  Matron cleared her throat to get Bella’s attention. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Philip’s lawyer tried to phone you here just before you arrived and I had a little chat with him. Mr Marley seems a sensible fellow and was horrified at what had happened to you. Like me he doesn’t feel it was a chance attack or a lunatic.’

  ‘I liked him.’

  ‘He’s coming to visit you at the weekend, if that’s all right, and wants to drive you over to Malmesbury to show you the houses you’ve inherited. I suggested that at the same time we work out a plan for keeping you safe. I didn’t tell him about the baby, but I think you should.’

  ‘I might not be expecting. I’d much rather not say anything till I’m sure.’

  Matron gave her a knowing smile. ‘I didn’t say so when we talked about that before, because you were still getting used to the idea, but I have a gift for spotting a woman carrying a child and mark my words, you have that glow to you, even as tired and worried as you are at the moment. It’s quite unmistakable, a softness in the eyes and skin, and a tendency to be more emotional.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I hope you’re right.’

  ‘I’m sure of it. And I’m really glad you want the baby. It upsets me to see children brought into this world and raised unloved. You can always tell from their poor little faces whether anyone cares about them or not. The ones in need of love have a sharp, pinched look.’

  ‘Well, this one will be greatly loved.’

  ‘I know, dear. You’re a caring young woman.’

  For the first time in public, Bella allowed her hand to rest on her stomach, though she’d done it a couple of times in bed. If there really was a child in there, she would love it with all her heart. And she would not only have something of Philip but she wouldn’t be alone in the world any longer.

  That was a wonderful thought. Her mother was always so busy and was far too sharp in dealing with the world. They had never been close. She’d felt very alone since her father died.

  The next couple of days passed slowly. The other drivers were envious of Bella inheriting a car of her own and were itching for her to take them for a spin in the long summer evenings. But she didn’t do that, pretending the engine needed tuning properly and she didn’t want to do any driving around until that had been sorted out.

  By the time Saturday came she was impatient for the conference with the lawyer and the visit to her cottages, impatient to be doing something.

  She would have to work out what was best to do with her life from now on. She didn’t feel certain about anything.

  But she was beginning to feel that Matron was right and she was expecting Philip’s child. And oh, it was such a comfort to have no financial worries! She still couldn’t believe she’d inherited so much. She’d had to be careful with money all her life. She didn’t think she could be extravagant even now, but she wouldn’t have to skimp.

  Georgie Cotterell was finding it hard to pass the time as a guest, even though Penny had made her feel very welcome. She tried to think what to do next and even wondered whether she should try to join the VADs. But she couldn’t stand the sight of blood and didn’t know how to drive, so all that remained as far as she could tell was becoming a hospital cleaner, which wouldn’t be very pleasant, she was sure.

  She visited the village library and borrowed books. She tried to join other women in sewing comforts for the soldiers, but was told that her sewing simply wasn’t neat enough. Penny found her efforts at sewing hilarious and set her to knitting squares instead, which could be sewn together to make blankets.

  And all the time, she missed Philip. She might not have spent a lot of time with her twin since he’d enlisted but he’d always been there, sending her carelessly scrawled letters, telling her how much he enjoyed reading her letters. There. He’d been part of her life for ever, closer than ordinary brothers.

  The first letter from Harry was a godsend. It was long and
chatty and when Penny said she hated writing letters, Georgie volunteered to keep in touch with Harry for her. She decided to write to him once a week, but he wrote more often than that, and it seemed rude not to reply, so they were soon exchanging letters every two or three days.

  Then he sent word he was coming home to run a training course for troops being posted to Ireland, where there was a lot of unrest since the Easter uprising in April in Dublin.

  It was bad enough to be fighting the Germans but Ireland seemed like a close cousin to her and she didn’t really understand what ‘the troubles’ were about.

  Harry tried to explain and said he felt sorry for both sides and there was no easy way out.

  What a mess the world was in!

  One afternoon when Georgie went into the nearest town to buy some art supplies, because her mother hadn’t sent hers when Mr Marley brought her clothes, she saw Spencer across the street. He was staring in her direction with a triumphant look on his face. But he made no attempt to come near her, just stared, in that horrible threatening way he had when he was plotting mischief.

  What could he be planning to do to her now?

  She began to worry. Surely he wouldn’t try to grab her and take her back by force? And how had he found her anyway?

  ‘Is something wrong, Miss Cotterell?’ the butcher asked.

  She hesitated then nodded. ‘My elder brother is down the street. I’m frightened of him. I ran away from home and I don’t know how he found me but I’m afraid to walk back to Mrs Richards’ on my own in case Spencer, um, accosts me. There’s no one else living down that lane, as you know.’

  The butcher, a family man, came to peer out of the window. ‘That thin fellow near the lamp post?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not in a good mood, is he? And he doesn’t mind who sees it. Would you like to go out the back way? You can slip down the alley and cut across the fields to Mrs Richards’ house.’