Dead Ground in Between

by Maureen Jennings

  He took a fast look around. There wasn’t much more furniture, just a table and two more chairs near the kitchen area. A small rag rug in front of the heater was the only concession to comfort. The most impressive feature was a mahogany rolltop desk standing against the wall between the two deep front windows.

  Mrs. Hamilton wheeled a tea trolley over and manoeuvred it into position next to his chair. She removed the knitted cozy from the pot and poured out the tea into his cup.

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  He accepted both.

  “I do find the tea ration above all is so difficult to manage, don’t you, Mr. Tyler?”

  Not being much of a tea drinker he actually didn’t, but he agreed politely.

  She poured a cup for herself and sat down in the chair across from him. She kept her knees decorously together but she had good legs and was wearing a skirt that looked to him a bit shorter than the prevailing fashion.

  She gazed at him over the top of her cup. “I’ve made myself hold out until now. This is only my second cup of the day, and I do so enjoy it.”

  He sipped at his tea, willing himself to relax. This was shaping up just the way he’d dreaded. Awkward as all get-out.

  You can leave. Say you’ve just remembered an urgent appointment. This isn’t for you.

  But before he could act, Mrs. Hamilton placed her own cup and saucer on the trolley.

  “Well, I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time, so why don’t we get straight down to business?”

  He sighed. “Of course. Let’s get right to it.” He swallowed down the rest of his tea.

  Moira gave her knees a little slap. “First, then, is the matter of my fee.”

  “Fee?” Rowell hadn’t mentioned a fee, but of course nobody would go to all the trouble of running a dating agency from the sheer goodness of their heart.

  “I charge one pound for the initial interview,” she continued. “Non-refundable. If we agree that you are a suitable candidate, you will pay a further three pounds, which will entitle you to three introductions with women chosen for you especially by me. If, after sincere attempts, none of these introductions work out for the long term, then you are allowed one more free introduction.”

  Tyler raised his hand in protest. “Just a minute, Mrs. Hamilton. Let’s be clear. I don’t consider myself to be in the marriage market, and from the way you are describing your, er, service, that would seem to be the goal of all and sundry.”

  She didn’t answer but jumped abruptly to her feet and went to the desk. All of her movements were brisk and decisive. She would have made a good private secretary, Tyler thought. She returned to her chair holding a ledger that surely belonged in a law office.

  “I specifically state that my job is to provide sincere introductions to single people. What you do with yourselves after that introduction is entirely up to you. Some people have found marriage partners, some have found good friends.” She smiled. “Some are content to be, shall we say, lovers.”

  Oh God. He had one lover and that was Clare Somerville. Currently far from him. Perhaps forever.

  “How long have you been…in this line of work, Mrs. Hamilton?”

  “Five years now. We were living in Manchester when I started. My husband has trained as an engineer and he travels a lot. I was bored and lonely so I thought I should take up some kind of suitable work. He was only too happy to support me. ‘Keep you out of mischief, my girl,’ were his words.”

  Tyler wondered if Moira was prone to getting into mischief, and of what sort.

  “Anyway, even back then I could see that people sometimes needed help finding a partner they could get along with. Now, with the war on us, it’s even more difficult. You think it wouldn’t be what with all the dances happening. But let’s face it, they tend to be for the younger crowd. But my clientele are rather more mature. A little nervous about jumping into the melee of the jitterbug. I must say, my business has thrived since the war began. Walter was afraid it would drop off with the current loosening of moral standards. Who needs a matchmaker when you can pick up a girl at any time in the local pub or dance hall? Fortunately, that has not been the case. More than ever, people seem to need a compass in the sea of uncertainty that surrounds us.”

  Aptly put. Not to mention the poetic turn of phrase. Me, I’m barely keeping my nose above the waves.

  Mrs. Hamilton was wearing cherry-red lipstick, which emphasized her full lips. She had a way of pouting those lips when she was making a thoughtful point.

  “Does your husband still travel a lot?” Tyler asked.

  “He’s been conscripted into the Royal Engineers,” she said with a sigh. “Fortunately, he’s too valuable to be sent to the front lines so he’s stuck behind a desk down in London. I don’t even know what he does. It’s all terribly hush-hush. He can only get away every couple of months.”

  “That must be hard on both of you.”

  She beamed at him. “Let’s just say it makes our reunions that much more delightful.”

  Tyler wrenched his imagination away from the luscious Moira reuniting with her doting husband in a delightful way.

  She opened the ledger. “Are we all right with the fee, then? Shall we go ahead?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I like to get payment in advance. You’d be surprised how many men get cold feet.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be surprised at all. But I didn’t come prepared with that amount of money. Can I drop it off to you later?”

  “Certainly you can. Cash or bank draft is fine. Besides, you are an officer of the law. If I can’t trust you, whom can I trust?”

  “Precisely.”

  She turned to a blank page in the formidable ledger.

  “Righty-o. I’ll need to get some information from you.” She began to write. “Age?”

  “Forty-four.”

  She didn’t comment. Neither the flattering “You don’t look it,” nor the chilling opposite – “Only forty-four?” – which was what he half expected these days.

  “Marital status?”

  “Divorced.”

  Pity. Not everyone wants to commit to a divorcé.

  “One failure already, is that the idea?”

  “In a way, although the issue is more that the first marriage can cast such a shadow over any new love.”

  Her eyes met his. She had pretty blue eyes and long eyelashes, he noticed. “Who was it, if I may be so bold as to ask, who left the marriage?”

  Tyler hesitated. “I’d say it was a mutual decision.”

  When Moira spoke next her voice was soft. “I’m sorry for my next question, Mr. Tyler, but I am obliged to ask it. Are you still in love with your ex-wife?”

  “Good lord, no.” Seduced by her expression of kind understanding, he added impulsively, “I probably never was.”

  She wrote something in the ledger. “Any children?”

  “We had a boy and a girl. Only my daughter is living. My son was killed two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. A casualty of war?”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  She looked at him, obviously waiting for him to expand on his statement, but Jimmy’s violent and untimely death was not something he wanted to talk about.

  She returned to her ledger. “Now, just a few questions about yourself, Mr. Tyler. How would you describe your personality?”

  “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Well, would you say you are generally a cheerful, optimistic sort of person? Or do you have trouble feeling hopeful about the future?”

  “These days, only fools would be always cheerful, wouldn’t you say, Mrs. Hamilton?”

  She gave a little shrug. “You have a point. But we can’t succumb to despair, either, can we? I’m sure Herr Hitler would like that. It is not an emotion that I myself subscribe to.”

  But you have a loving husband who can’t wait to get home so he can take you in his arms and caress those full breasts and thighs.

 
“Mr. Tyler?”

  “Sorry, just thinking. Ask away.”

  She did, and soon filled the page. Some questions were easy to answer. What kind of music did he like? Vera Lynn got to him every time. He enjoyed Gracie Fields. Glenn Miller was a toe-tapper. Who was his favourite comedian? Tony Hancock. What writers did he like? Lots of them. Shakespeare, for one. A lift of the eyebrow at that but it was true. Graham Greene. George Orwell.

  A more thought-provoking question came next. What sort of woman did he enjoy being with? “Depends.” A little more probing and he offered the answer, “Clever women, I suppose. Honest. Straightforward.” She seemed to like those answers and underlined them in the ledger.

  “My final question, Mr. Tyler, and a rather important one. Do you enjoy intimacy? Of the physical kind, that is.”

  He wanted to cry out, “You bet I do! I haven’t had sexual relations for two years.” However, he settled for a more decorous, “Definitely.”

  “Splendid. That’s all for now.” She took another piece of paper from the folder. “Here is my standard contract. It guarantees you three introductions. There will be no refunds. If there are unexpected circumstances that mean the introduction is not completed I will replace that introduction with another at my discretion. Clear?”

  “What might be a circumstance of incompletion?”

  She pouted her lips in a rather mischievous way. “One of my clients considered herself to be a widow and was ready to meet another man…when her husband returned.”

  “Not dead, then?”

  “Not at all. Reported to be missing in action in North Africa but he was only wounded.”

  “You removed her from your list?”

  “Good heavens, yes. It was a most joyful reunion, I must say.”

  Mrs. Hamilton seemed to admire reunions, thought Tyler.

  “Just sign on the bottom line, if you please.” She stood up and went back to the desk. Tyler kept his eyes firmly fixed on the piece of paper that might or might not be determining his future. She returned with a folder. “I currently have three women on my list who, in my opinion, are most suitable candidates. I will make the initial contact, give you a little introduction, as it were. Then I will send you a letter with the place and time of the first meeting. I always recommend you make an appointment to meet first of all in a public place. At the pictures, or a restaurant, for instance. A dance can be too intimidating initially. Many men do not consider themselves to be Fred Astaires on the dance floor and things can get off to an unnecessarily awkward start.”

  “That’s me for sure,” said Tyler.

  “It might be worth taking some proper lessons.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Pictures or restaurant, then?”

  “I think it’ll be the pictures.”

  “Good choice. There’s an American comedy playing at the Clifton. It’s quite amusing. I would like you to come in again after each meeting and let me know your impressions and so forth. The women will do the same.”

  Wow, this is indeed a business, thought Tyler. I didn’t expect to be marked.

  “What happens if I am completely satisfied with the first woman I meet? Do I have to make a date with the other two?”

  She nodded. “I always advise it. Hedge your bets. But do be honest with them. You don’t want to deceive anybody, do you? No broken hearts, thank you. We’ve got more than enough of those to go around these days.”

  She picked up the teapot. “More tea?”

  He flapped his hand. “No, thanks. That was more than sufficient.”

  “I’ll get your hat and coat, then.” She paused. “The reason I asked you about your wife, Mr. Tyler, whether or not you were still in love with her…I had the impression that your feelings had been badly hurt, and that it might be difficult for you to give your heart to somebody else.”

  For a moment, Tyler could only gape at her. Then, “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Hamilton,” he said. “I’ll be all right.”

  —

  Playtime was over and Miss Lindsay was ringing the handbell with great gusto, the signal for the children to line up ready to return to their classrooms.

  Jan grabbed his brother’s arm. “Soon as school’s over, we’ll ride the bike to the hideout.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve got to put our treasure in a safe place, for one thing. We don’t want anybody taking it from us. We’ve got to check on our supplies as well. Soon as the weather lets up we’ll be able to go to London.”

  “Jan, I don’t w-want to get into any more t-trouble.”

  “We won’t, I promise. I’ll ask Wally Green to tell Mrs. K. we’ve had to stay behind at school.”

  “What if she checks up on us?”

  “She won’t. She told me, ’cause of going to court this morning she has to stay late at the library. She won’t be home until seven. We’ll be back by then. If she does find out, we’ll say we were all cut up about the manager accusing us and we needed to be alone. She’s a softie. She won’t rag us.”

  Pim chewed on his lip. “I dunno, Jan. Besides, it’s p-pissing down with rain. We’ll g-get soaked.”

  “We ain’t made of sugar. And we’ve got those macks Mrs. K. bought for us.”

  “What if we get hungry?”

  Jan reached into his pocket and took out two small bars of chocolate. “We’ve got these. We can have one today and keep the other for later.”

  Pim covered his brother’s hand with his own. “Don’t let anybody see them. We’ll really g-get sent away then.”

  Miss Lindsay gave the bell another a vigorous shake.

  “Playtime’s over now, boys. Let’s start lining up. No tarrying. No more talking.”

  “Stay here,” said Jan, and he scurried over to the line that was slowly forming and pushed in behind a small boy with pinched features. Wally Green was an early evacuee from Liverpool. So far, no amount of country air and better food had fattened him up.

  Jan tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Wally, do me a favour, will you?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  “I want you to take a message to Mrs. Keogh.”

  “What sort of message?”

  “Tell her Pim and me have had to stay at school for a bit. Say we got detention.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Course it isn’t. We just don’t want to go home right away.”

  “Why not?”

  “Doesn’t matter why not. Will you do it? It’s on your way. She’ll be at the library.”

  “I don’t like fibbing for other people. What if she don’t believe me? Then I’ll be the one in trouble.”

  “No you won’t. I’ll never tell. Come on, Wally. That’s not a lot to ask of a mate. I’ll give you me new comic. It’s a Beano.”

  “I’ve got a Beano.”

  “A Beano and me best marlie.”

  “I don’t –”

  “And I won’t tell the teacher you took a leak against the school gate yesterday.”

  “I did not,” said Wally, full of indignation.

  “I saw you. Both me brother and I did.”

  The other boy hesitated. “I was caught short.”

  “I believe you, but the dragon won’t. Is it a deal or not?”

  The harsh bell clanged again.

  “Those who aren’t in line by the time I count to ten will get a detention,” called out Miss Lindsay. She’d been evacuated from London with her class and she’d brought her city ways with her. Detentions, previously unheard of, were one such innovation.

  The local children both feared and hated her and did what they could to defy her whenever possible. Delaying tactics at the end of playtime was one small way they could get back at her.

  “All right,” muttered Wally. “A Beano and your best marble? No welching, and no blaming me if she finds out the truth.”

  “Spit on my hand, cross my heart, and hope to die.”

  “I thought you was a Jew. Jews don’t cross their hearts.”


  “Course we do. It’s all the same.”

  He suited his actions to his words and pressed his palm against Wally’s. Then he hurried back to where his brother was waiting.

  “He’ll do it.”

  Pim looked worried, but he followed his brother to the line that was now moving slowly in the direction of the doors.

  —

  Sergeant Rowell was seated behind the reception desk when Tyler entered the police station.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine. Good. She’s a shrewd woman. Very pleasant too.”

  Rowell beamed. “I told you so.”

  “You didn’t tell me she was also a nice bit of crumpet.”

  The sergeant threw up his hands. “I wanted you to go to the meeting with no preconceptions.”

  “Nor did you mention I had to pay.”

  “It’s worth every penny. You’ll see. You’re going to follow up on it, I hope.”

  “For three pounds, you bet I am.”

  Behind a low glass partition was the common area, and Tyler glanced toward the young constable sitting at his desk. Even from a distance Tyler could see Constable Mady’s eyes were alive with curiosity. He leaned closer to Rowell.

  “Oliver, if you so much as breathe a word to anybody about this I’ll skin you alive.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. It’s your own private business.” He grimaced. “I did mention to Dorothy that I’d recommended Mrs. Hamilton to you, but that’s all.”

  Tyler sighed. It would be all over town before he knew it. He might as well have put an announcement on the BBC: Lonely, sexually starved copper, divorced, seeks understanding woman. No strings attached.

  “Remember, Oliver – loose lips sink sergeants.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right. Now, let’s get back to being coppers, shall we? Did those remand lads come in yet?”

  “Not yet. But while you were away, I took the opportunity to send young Mady to have a chat with the publican.”

  “And?”

  “He says the boys had a couple of pints of cider. All legal and above board. He was too busy to notice their level of inebriation.”

  “Just a couple?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Perhaps the stuff is as strong as they claim.”

  Rowell pointed to the waiting area. “There’s a lady come in who wants to speak to you urgently.”