John’s face wore a wounded expression.
Edie came back into the room wearing her overcoat.
“I’m ready when you are, Inspector.”
“Right. Mr. Cartwright, Mrs. Cartwright, please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you, Inspector, you’ve been very kind.” John glanced at his wife. His eyes were full of unhappiness, but she’d already turned her back and was fiddling with something in the sink.
—
Night had fallen, and the vehicle headlights, with the mandatory restricting strips, gave out only a feeble light. The rain had stopped, but a low-lying mist had come up, intensifying the impenetrability of the darkness. Edie seemed familiar with the road, and didn’t drive too fast
She steered the lorry carefully around a sharp curve, then said, “So, Angelo was all right when you talked to him?”
“Yep. Seemed like a decent chap. His English is good, all things considering.”
She smiled. “He’s a fast learner. I hope talking to you didn’t get him all worried.”
“Worried?”
“Well, you know, the Italians are our enemies at the moment. The men here could be accused of anything, at any time.”
“Not if I have a say in the matter.”
“What did you think of him? As a person, I mean.”
Tyler thought he would test the waters a little. “Good-looking lad.”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he? You don’t usually see somebody that fair who’s Italian, but he’s got northern blood in his veins. They’re all blond in the north, according to him, and some of his ancestors must have come from there. And those Italians are real hard workers, let me tell you. We arrived at the Cartwright farm at the same time in fact. Angelo asked me to help him with his English, so we’ve had lots of chats.” She shot a questioning glace at Tyler. “To tell you the truth, Inspector, sometimes it’s hard to see them as enemies, if you know what I mean. Not when you’re working together in the broiling sun and they do their best to make some of the jobs easier for you. They didn’t have to do that but they did. I know we’re not supposed to fraternize, but how can you not talk when you’re working together for hours and hours?”
“I’m sure it would seem unnatural.”
“Before the war, Angelo was a dairyman in Italy. He’s really helped us with the cows. Even old Mr. Cartwright listened to him.”
“I thought Mrs. Cartwright said Jasper didn’t like the POWS. He was rude to them.”
“Oh, he’d get into bad moods with everybody. He wanted to talk about soldiering but their English wasn’t good enough, and that frustrated him. But I wouldn’t say he was exactly rude. Not the way he was with Ned. Blimey, he could be rotten to him. Said he was a coward because he’d been discharged from the army.”
“The army? I’d assumed he wasn’t called up because he was in a reserved occupation. Do you know what happened?”
‘’I’m not entirely sure. It’s a touchy subject. Near as I can make out, something occurred when he was in training camp and he was invalided out.” She caught Tyler’s questioning look. “I don’t know what the problem was. He wasn’t hurt or anything like that – at least not in any way that shows – but apparently he had some sort of nervous breakdown.”
“Is that why his mother said he only helps out when he can? I wondered about that.”
“I think she mollycoddles him. But it’s true, every so often he goes prostrate. He spends a lot of time lying down in his room. Bad headaches or something.” She bit her lip. “Honestly, I feel sorry for him. He must have been teased a lot when he was a boy. You know, that funny twitch in his eye. Almost makes you want to giggle sometimes. I do know being booted out of the army was devastating to him. He really wants to be a soldier. He knows more about what’s going on in the war than anybody else. He’s got a big map in his room and he marks out every battle.”
They bumped along the road in silence for a while, then Edie blurted out, “Angelo thinks Italy will surrender soon.”
“Does he now?”
“Mm-hm. He says nobody in his country really wants to fight. Mussolini pushed them into it. After all, they were our allies in the Great War, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were indeed.”
“He had no choice, you see. He was conscripted. Fight or be killed – that’s what he was told.”
“As you say, not much choice there.”
“He’s a very intelligent man. He really would like to be a teacher. In fact, you might not believe it but he writes poetry.”
“In English?”
“No, in Italian, but he translates them for me.”
Love poems, Tyler had no doubt. He sighed. The age-old story. Warring families, Montagues and Capulets. Two young people caught in the middle.
“I can see you’ve grown quite fond of Angelo.”
“What? Well, not really. It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s hard to think of him as an enemy?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s it. I would have been quite lonely without Angelo,” she said. “Initially, I wanted to be billeted in one of the hostels. But our chief said I was needed at the Cartwrights’ and I would live in. I didn’t like being on my own and I was going to ask for a transfer, until the POWS arrived.”
She frowned, leaned forward, and rubbed the condensation off the windshield.
“This weather gives me the pip. Poor Mr. Cartwright. Not the best way to go to your maker, is it? Dying out in the cold like that.” She frowned. “Ned was quite mysterious when he came to tell me. He said Mr. Cartwright was found in one of the upper fields by two Boy Scouts. Is that true?”
Tyler nodded. He wasn’t prepared to enlighten her fully at this point.
“What on earth were boys doing out on such a day?”
“They said they were just riding around on their bike.”
“Really? How odd.”
Tyler silently agreed but said nothing.
Edie’s shoulders slumped. “I know the family feel bad about not finding him sooner, but Mr. Cartwright could be a stubborn old cuss. If he got it into his head he wanted to go out, out he would go. Mr. John had to go looking for him more than once. And he was definitely getting more and more confused.”
Tyler clucked sympathetically. “Must have been hard all round.”
“It certainly was.”
“How was he with you?”
She shrugged. “All right, really. I don’t think he approved of us Land Girls at first but he knew they needed help with the farm. I passed the test. Ready to work hard, bring him his tea, listen to his stories.” She slowed down to negotiate another turn. “But I really did like listening to him. It wasn’t put on.”
“You Land Girls have been a godsend. I hate to think how we’d have got by without you.”
“Thanks, Inspector. It’s nice to be appreciated. We had to win over quite a few of the old-timers, especially when they saw us in breeches.”
“Where is Ned in the equation?” Tyler asked. “I got the feeling he was fond of you.”
She chuckled. “He’s not had much experience with girls. Perhaps that’s why.”
Tyler thought she wasn’t doing herself justice. She was an extremely attractive young woman and, experienced or not, he could see how a single man like Ned might be infatuated. They had turned onto a wider road now, still dark but easier to navigate. Tyler peered out the window.
“The POW camp is on the right, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. They all live in huts. They’ve got guards but Angelo says they’re decent fellas. Still, confinement is confinement, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed.”
“Angelo says helping out on the farm is one of the best experiences he’s ever had.”
“I’m sure life in a prison camp must get very tedious,” said Tyler.
She nodded. “That’s the very word he used. Tedious. The big excitement is on Sunday when they march them to St. Paul’s, the Roman Catho
lic church in Ludlow. I went in there myself last week. Thought I’d see what a mass was all about. I’m chapel-raised so I’ve never been in a Catholic church before. It’s lovely inside, but it all seemed mumbo-jumbo to me. Up down, up down. Now kneel, now stand up. The priest said the whole thing in Latin. Two boys helped him and waved some smoky stuff around, which made me cough, I can tell you.” She flicked a quick glance at him. “You’re not RC, are you?”
“No, Church of England.”
“Whew. Good. I don’t want to offend anybody.”
“Not at all. The first time I went into a Catholic church I found it strange myself.”
“Why did you go? Did you have a sweetheart?”
“No. I thought it was part of my job to know how the other half lives. Do you have a sweetheart who is a Catholic?” he asked, although he was being disingenuous. He knew the answer.
She shook her head a bit too emphatically. “No. Not me. I’m fancy-free. I was just curious.”
Tyler didn’t challenge such a palpable fib, and they drove on in silence again.
“War’s stupid, if you ask me,” Edie burst out. “All of a sudden somebody up high says, ‘We’re at war and you’ve got to go and fight people you’ve never met, people who haven’t done anything to you.’ I don’t understand it.”
Tyler didn’t respond. What could he say to that?
“My dad was in the Great War,” Edie went on. “He came home at the end of it minus his mind.”
Tyler wasn’t sure he’d heard her properly. “Did you say minus his mind?”
“That’s right. Other blokes came back minus an arm or a leg but he left his mind in the trenches somewhere in France. That’s what he used to say, anyway. He and my mom were engaged when he left so that’s why they got married, but it was hard on her. They only had me. He used to say that was all he could manage. Whatever that means.”
Tyler was a little startled by her candour. He could guess what the poor blasted soldier had meant.
“It wasn’t that he was a cuss or anything like that. He would just go away in his mind. Didn’t seem to hear you. Sometimes he wouldn’t get out of bed for days on end. Wouldn’t wash or shave his face. He really ponged after one of those bouts, I can tell you. It was hard on my mom, but she loved him. Looked after him until the day he died.”
“How long did he live for after the war?” Tyler asked.
“About five years. Not long, really. Truth is, he did himself in. There was a canal near us. One morning he walked down there, put stones in his pockets, and jumped in.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Walpole. That must have been very difficult for you and your mother.”
“Oh, it was. For her, anyway. I didn’t really have much of a relationship with him, to tell the truth. Like I said, he wasn’t what you’d call ‘present’ most of the time. I was just a kiddie. He left a note saying he couldn’t take it any more and that she would be better off without him.”
“Has she remarried?”
“Not yet. But she’s been seeing this nice bloke from down the road. A postman. Never been in the war because he’s got bad eyesight so he’s more…intact, shall we say.”
“I wish her well.”
Edie beamed. “Thanks for listening. I’ve been giving you an earful. My mum keeps telling me not to be such a chatterbox but I can’t help it sometimes.”
“I didn’t mind at all.”
“Forgive me for being personal, Inspector, but do you have a daughter?”
“Yes. She’s a Land Girl too.”
“Fancy that. Does she like it?”
“I believe so. We haven’t had the opportunity to have a good chinwag yet. She’s in Scotland now. I’m hoping I’ll get to see her at Christmas.”
“What’s her name?”
“Janet. She’s eighteen.”
“Younger than me, then? I’m almost twenty-five. My mum says I’d better hurry up and get myself a bloke or I’ll end up being an old maid.”
“I’d say you have plenty of time.”
“Hope so. You’d think it would be easy to meet a nice bloke these days but they’ve all been shipped off overseas.”
Her words were echoing those of Mrs. Hamilton.
They continued on in silence for a while, and then she said, “I’m going to get four days’ leave at Christmas. My mum wants me to come to Manchester, naturally, but by the time I get the train, have a couple of days with her, then come back, it’s hardly worth it. Especially now, with what’s happened here. I might just stay and save up my leave for later. One thing about a farm is that the animals don’t take days off, do they? They still have to be milked and fed, no matter what day it is.”
“True.”
“Here’s St. Paul’s,” said Edie. “That’s where they go.”
Tyler could just make out the large church with a domed cupola. In the midst of this traditional town of Norman and medieval churches, St. Paul’s seemed foreign and exotic.
“It was built in ’36,” she said. “Bloke who designed it is Italian, and he’s been interned. He’s been sent to the Isle of Man with the other enemy aliens.”
“Really. Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it? Let’s hope he’ll be released soon.”
“Angelo says it’s exactly like the church where he went as a boy. He’s from Sardinia. He talks about it a lot. Sounds beautiful. Better weather than we get, that’s for sure. Like I said, he wants to study to be a teacher when he goes back. If he does. Go back, I mean. Who knows what the future holds?”
There was no mistaking the wistfulness in her voice but there wasn’t much Tyler could say to comfort her.
He pointed. “Turn left at the next road, then right at the top of the hill. I’m just at the end of the lane.”
“I wonder how those two Boy Scouts are holding up,” said Edie. “They were plucky little nippers, weren’t they? And your lady constable was very good with them. She’s quite a toff, isn’t she?”
“I suppose she is.”
“She’d be attractive if she put a bit of meat on her bones.”
Tyler didn’t comment.
Edie pulled up in front of the police station.
“I hope you don’t think I’m unfeeling, Inspector. I know I’ve been gabbing on, but I’m truly sorry that Mr. Cartwright died.”
“I know you are. And you weren’t gabbing in the least.”
Tyler climbed down out of the lorry.
“Thank you, Miss Walpole. Much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome. Gave me a chance to get out of the den of misery.”
She drove off.
—
When Tyler arrived, as he’d been hoping, Rowell had a meal ready for him.
“It’s a Woolton pie, sir. No meat, of course, but I did use a beef gravy. I had mine earlier and it’s quite tasty, if I say so myself.”
Tyler tucked into the hot pie with gusto. “Delicious, Oliver. I must say, a bit of meat would have been welcome but other than that it’s perfect.”
“I’ve got a baked apple and custard for your sweet.”
“I’ll save it for later. I want to pop down to Mrs. Keogh’s to see how the two boys are doing.”
“How were they, the tads?”
“Not too bad, all things considered. Shaken up, of course. I put them under the care of Constable Mortimer.”
“Good idea. She’s a motherly sort underneath it all. She seems the marbles-in-the-mouth type, but she can be very kind.”
“True.” Tyler remembered the kindness the young constable had shown to the shocked and bereaved victims in his last case.
“What a strange thing, the old man ending up where he did,” said Rowell. “You referred to it as a hideout. Who the heck built it?”
Tyler was hesitant. “I’m not supposed to discuss this, but common sense tells me you aren’t going to blab to anybody. And you are my right-hand man.”
“Gosh, thanks, sir. I’m honoured.”
Rowell waited expectantly as Tyler used
a piece of bread to mop up the last of the gravy on his plate.
“I’d wager it was built by some member of an Auxiliary Unit,” said Tyler. “To be used in case of enemy invasion.”
“Auxiliary Unit? I don’t really know what that is.”
“The Auxiliaries were a big deal in the first year of this bloody war when we feared an invasion was imminent but they’re not as active now. Mr. Churchill ordered that they be formed and that the men be trained like the commandos were. Small cells, three or four men each at most, and operating in deepest secrecy – nobody to even know who else was out there beyond their own cell. Ready to kill and sabotage if the Nazis overran us. The hideouts were intended as bolt holes, and they can be provisioned to be lived in for weeks.”
“Blimey,” said Rowell. “I’d heard the rumours but I thought they were hogwash. Our local men being trained to be killers! I just didn’t believe it.”
“It’s true. When we were all so scared of being invaded after Dunkirk, Churchill thought their role would be vital.”
“And Jasper Cartwright was found in one of these hideouts? You’re not telling me this old man was a commando!?”
“It’s seems most unlikely, but I’m going to have to find out. And that, Oliver, might be very difficult. When I say this is a deep secret, I mean deep, deep secret.”
“What was this place like, then?”
“It’s several feet underground. They all are. Easier to conceal that way. It’s about eight feet long, over six feet high, and six wide. Cold to be sure, but snug. Put a paraffin lantern in there, paraffin stove, and cook yourself a chop. There’s even a chemical toilet.”
“Blimey. Sounds better than what we’ve got here.”
“Almost. The walls are lined with planks and so is the floor. Originally this one must have been part of a big rabbit warren because three or four holes on the one side look out down the hill slope. They’ve been glazed in for protection and have blackout shutters. You’d never even know the place existed from that side of the hill. There’s a second exit in case of emergencies several feet away, and it’s just as well concealed. An old cattle trough stands over the entrance, and when you pull on a latch, a grill drops open onto a chimney just wide enough for a slimmish man to climb into. Jasper Cartwright was lying at the bottom of the ladder.”
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