She yearned to engage him, hungry for news of her love.
“How is Rudy? Was the mission successful? Is he on leave now? He hasn’t been hurt, has he?”
The last question elicited a shake of the head. Exasperated, Shirley turned to Polly. “Cat got his tongue, has it?”
“Nothing like that,” Polly answered. “He’d be in trouble if it came out he was helping you and Rudy to get together. They’re having to break the rules for him to come.”
“Well, I can’t stay any longer. My mum will be frantic enough as it is.”
She got to her feet and the man jumped up, fast as a cat, grabbed her arm, and shoved her back into the pew.
“Oi! Stop that,” she said, but she was now truly frightened. “Polly, what’s going on? Where’s Rudy? Who is this bloke? I don’t like him.”
“Don’t worry,” said Polly. “He’s all right, just the nervous type. Rudy will be here soon. And don’t worry about your mum. I rang the hospital and told them to give her a message. Said you’d decided to take a few days’ holiday with a friend.”
Shirley looked at her in dismay. “Why did you say that? She knows I don’t have any friends in the area.”
“Except me, silly goose.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t know about you.”
“Stop being such a worrywart. Remember, I said you had to learn to stand on your own feet? Your mum will sing a different tune when you come home a married woman.”
Polly’s voice was bright, but Shirley didn’t feel reassured and she felt a sharp stab of guilt at her own actions. This was a terrible time to be adding to her mother’s worries. She also had a nagging feeling that Polly was fibbing. That she hadn’t left a message at the hospital. What game was she playing?
“What time is it? If Rudy isn’t here soon, I’m going to go back.”
Polly smiled. “Tell you what, I brought us some cocoa. It’ll warm you up until he comes. I’m sure he won’t be long now.”
She reached into a black doctor’s bag she had with her and took out a large Thermos, unscrewed the top, poured out a cup, and handed it to Shirley.
“You first.”
Shirley shook her head. “No, thanks. My tummy’s upset.”
“It’s got a splash of whisky in it,” said Polly. “It’ll settle you right down.”
“I don’t know if I should. The doctor said that whatever goes into my mouth will end up in the baby’s system.”
Polly chuckled. “No fear of that. One drink won’t do anything. It’s not like you’re a regular tippler. Here.”
She shoved the cup of cocoa at Shirley.
“All right then. Thanks. It is nippy in here.”
Shirley jerked her head in the direction of the silent man. “Aren’t you going to offer him some?”
“Nope. It’s only for us girls.”
Shirley took a sip and quickly lowered the cup. “I don’t mean to be rude, but this cocoa leaves a bit to be desired. Is the milk off, do you think?”
“Hope not,” said Polly. “Here.” She went into her bag again and took out a small tin. “I brought along extra sugar just in case. I like mine sweet.” She handed the tin to Shirley. “Help yourself. Here’s a spoon.”
“As long as I’m not taking all your ration, I don’t mind if I do.”
“I’ve got lots left. Don’t worry,” said Polly.
Shirley spooned two heaping spoonfuls of the sugar into the cup and stirred. She could tell the man was watching her. Well phooey to him. Nothing wrong with sugar for a pregnant woman. Truth was she got fed up with her ma watching her all the time. Eat this, Shirle, don’t eat that, Shirle.
The cocoa tasted much better now, so she drank it down. Polly took the empty cup from her and poured herself some cocoa. She blew on it. “Bit hot yet.”
Shirley yawned, engulfed by a sudden wave of tiredness. “You know what, I could do with a kip. It’s past my bedtime. I’ll just put my head down for a minute. Just a minute, mind. Wake me up as soon as Rudy comes.”
“Why don’t you stretch out,” said Polly. “Better to put your feet up.”
“Oo, I don’t want to be disrespectful. This is a church after all.”
The other woman flapped her hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Come on, I’ll help you.”
She lifted Shirley’s legs and swung them around so that she was lying on the pew.
“Ten minutes only …” Shirley’s voice tailed off.
Polly looked down at her for a moment or two. “Silly little bint. I thought she wasn’t going to drink it for a minute.”
The man pulled off the balaclava.
“Bloody thing is scratchy,” he said.
“I’ve got the feeling she’s going to pop soon,” said Polly. “She’d better. I can’t wait forever.”
Polly scowled. “What do we do now?”
He stood up. “I’m going back before I’m missed.”
“Hold on. What if she goes into labour?”
He gave her a half grin. “I’m sure you know what to do.”
“I can handle the birth, that’s not the problem. I just don’t fancy spending the night in this bloody place.”
“It’ll be worth it. I told you that, Polly. One night, that’s all. I’ll be back tomorrow and it will all be over.”
“Then what? What do we do then?”
54.
TYLER HADN’T STAYED MUCH LONGER WITH MRS. McHATTIE. She had looked so exhausted, he didn’t have the heart to keep at her. Like an arrow scratched in the sand, faint as it was, he thought he at least had something to follow. Who and where was Rudy, the putative father of Shirley’s child? Clearly, the lover himself couldn’t be hiding out in the hospital. Was it somebody in cahoots with him? Hey, pal, my gal’s pa is against us marrying. Off him for me, will you? Remove the obstacle. Sure. Happy to oblige. Oops, sorry. There were two potential witnesses I had to dispose of.
Well, if Shirley had done a bunk to meet her lover, they’d soon find them. One of the very few good results of wartime, as far as the police were concerned, was that the people couldn’t really travel about the countryside undetected.
Sister Rebecca and Tyler returned to the sitting room.
“I’d like to suggest you stay here for the night, Inspector,” she said. “We have a spare room that we keep ready for our spiritual adviser, Reverend Jervis. It’s basic but adequate, and you would be right on the spot if … if anything happens.”
Tyler felt as if his eyes were filled with sand. A bed, however basic, sounded like heaven to him.
“I accept, Sister. With thanks.”
She smiled. “We even have a pair of pyjamas you can use.”
She led the way down the passageway to a room at the far end, next to the sanctuary.
She switched on the light. A narrow bed, a chair, a washstand. Very monklike. But a bedroom nonetheless.
“We say matins at five o’clock. Would you like me to call you?”
Tyler rubbed at his jaw. “Does everybody get up at that hour?”
“Just our community initially, but now some of the patients like to join us.”
“I think I’ll join. And of course, if Shirley does reappear, fetch me immediately. Pregnant or not pregnant, I will personally give her a chewing out for worrying the heck out of everybody.”
Sister Rebecca grimaced. “I’ll be next in the queue.” She indicated the dresser. “The pyjamas are in there. Reverend Jervis is rather a stout man, so they may be a bit big for you.”
“That’s quite all right. Thank you.” He stopped. “Darn, Sister. My brain’s turning to blancmange. I should let my sergeant know I won’t be back tonight.”
“I’ll ring him if you’d like.”
“Thanks, much appreciated.”
For a moment, Tyler thought the almoner was lingering, but she turned away.
“I’ll say good night then.”
“Good night, Sister.”
Tyler took out the pyjamas, blue hospital issue, and d
efinitely on the large side. He got undressed, switched off the light, and climbed into the bed, which was as it had looked, hard and uncomfortable.
How long was it since he had lain with a woman in his arms? It was almost two years ago that he’d last been with Clare, and the thought of her was an ache. They’d had such a brief time together, and the joy he’d experienced at their reunion was so tempered by the sorrow of his son’s death he could hardly separate the two. He rolled onto his back trying to bring back the memory of his time with Clare, but he was too tired. All he could remember was her softness; the feeling of the love that had encompassed him, comforting him in his anguish. If he were a praying man, he’d offer up a prayer. Dear God, send her back to me soon.
Finally he fell into a restless sleep, tormented by unhappy dreams. He was only too happy to be awakened by Sister Virginia, who was standing at his bedside holding a tea tray.
55.
“SISTER REBECCA SAID YOU WANTED TO BE AWAKENED at five, sir.”
Tyler pushed himself up in the bed. As well as a china cup and saucer, there was a brass candleholder with a lit candle on the tray that the nun placed on the bedside table.
“Shall I draw the curtains, sir? It is looking like a pleasant morning.”
“Please do. Has there been any word of Shirley McHattie?” Tyler asked.
“Nothing, I’m afraid, sir.”
She returned to the bedside.
“I’ll extinguish the candle if you don’t mind, sir.”
“Of course.”
The soft light of early dawn was bathing the room. The sweet fresh air coming through the open window was momentarily tainted by the acrid odour of the snuffed candle.
“Do you take milk and sugar, sir?”
He could see she was managing to focus her gaze somewhere in the space over his head.
“Yes, please,” answered Tyler, feeling rather lordlike at being waited on in bed. Nobody had done that for him since Vera, in the early days of his marriage. Very early days.
“Will you be joining us at matins, sir?”
“Er … Maybe not this morning. Perhaps some other time.” Tyler took a sip of tea. “Perfect. Thank you, Sister.”
There was a burst of singing from the sanctuary. Something hymnal, male voices mixed in with the sopranos.
“Will you be taking breakfast in the dining room, sir, or would you like to have it in here?” Sister Virginia asked. “We start serving at half past six.”
“As long as my presence doesn’t put people off their food, I’ll eat with everybody else, in the dining room.”
The nun smiled shyly. “Naturally we are dreadfully upset about what’s happened, but I have every faith you’ll get to the bottom of things soon.”
Tyler wasn’t sure he was as confident.
“The bathroom is next door,” she said, her eyes again averted. “I’ve placed a fresh towel on the rack, and the toothbrush is for your use. I should warn you – the water tends to be a bit scanty and tepid. I can bring you a jug of hot water if you’d like.”
“I’ll be fine. No special treatment please.”
“I’ll leave you then. I should join in matins.” She gave a little curtsy and, quiet as a mouse, slipped away. Tyler would swear Sister Virginia had been in service prior to joining the community.
He drank the tea, put the dainty cup and saucer back on the tray, and swung his legs out of bed. He pulled off the reverend’s ample pyjamas, folded them neatly, and placed them on the chair. His own shirt could have done with an iron, but there was no opportunity to do that now, so it would have to do. He got dressed quickly and went in search of the WC. The singing got louder as he went past the sanctuary. Even to his ears, the music was unusually harmonious and professional sounding. He might have been tempted to join them if he hadn’t felt so dragged out by his night.
As Sister Virginia had warned, the water in the bathroom was meagre, sputtering out reluctantly from the taps. He splashed what little there was into his face. He needed a shave, but he felt he wanted some fresh air and a walk even more.
He went outside.
The sunlight was sparkling on the strip of grass. Even the vegetables looked more sprightly. The birds were putting up their usual frenetic twitter. He turned to have a look at them. And froze. What the hell was that?
Along the grass verge in front of the Fuller cottage were thrust four white wooden crosses.
56.
HE WAVED OVER THE CONSTABLE WHO WAS STATIONED in front of the McHattie cottage.
“Biggs. Where the hell did these come from?”
The officer hurried over. “The chap who works in the kitchen, sir. The one who’s a bit …” He twirled his forefinger by his temple.
“When did he put them in?”
“About half an hour ago. He said that you had given him permission to commemorate the poor dead folks.”
“I did no such thing. You should have checked with me first.”
Tyler knew he was being testy, but he couldn’t help himself. The sight of the white crosses had given him a shock.
“I’m sorry, sir. Didn’t seem any good reason to wake you up. I couldn’t see the harm to it.”
Tyler leaned over to take a closer look at the crosses. They looked as if they came from a fence of some kind. The edges of the cross pieces were jagged, as if they had been sawn off from larger pieces.
Shite. Mrs. Valentine’s letter. “Somebody stole half of my fence.”
Rowell had assumed the aforementioned fence was a fancy wrought-iron one that would fetch money, but this must be it. A plain white, wooden fence.
Tyler straightened up. “Go and fetch Alfie Fuller for me. Tell him to get out here right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
Biggs started off.
“Hold on a minute, Constable. Have you had breakfast?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Neither have I. Tell you what, when you get Alfie, see if you can filch us both a couple of slices of toast. I tend not to think clearly on an empty stomach.”
“Yes, sir. Right away. Thank you, sir.”
He hurried away and Tyler stared down at the white crosses. Why four? Jock, Ben, and Sister Ivy were the three who had died. What was going on in Alfie Fuller’s addled brain?
The rear door that led to the kitchen opened and Alfie came out. He started to walk purposefully towards the verge, but when he saw Tyler, he stopped in his tracks. Tyler called to him.
“Hey, Alfie, come over here for a sec. I want to ask you something.”
Alfie didn’t move. “What do you want? I’ve to get on with breakfast.”
“Won’t take a minute.”
Again Alfie didn’t move, but the constable had appeared right behind him and Alfie couldn’t retreat without knocking him over. Biggs seemed to size up the situation immediately and took a step closer. Alfie glanced over his shoulder, flashed him a broad smile, thrust his hands into his pockets, and sauntered towards Tyler, the constable close behind.
Alfie’s expression was wary. Tyler stared at him. His face seemed unnaturally flushed.
“What do you think of these?” Tyler asked, indicating the white crosses.
“They looks like grave markers.”
“They do, don’t they. The constable said you put them here. You told him I gave you permission, which is a fib.”
“No it’s not. We talked about graves just last week.”
“Last week?”
“Well, recently anyway.”
“Nobody’s buried here that I know of.”
Alfie eyed him solemnly. “A marker don’t have to mean there’s a body there. It can mean somebody died and we don’t know where.”
“That is true.”
“In fact,” said Alfie, “I put them there for Mr. McHattie and his son. And Sister Ivy of blessed memory.”
“But we know where they died, Alfie. Their graves will not be unknown.”
“That is correct, sir. But they are in memoriam.
”
“Who is the fourth cross for?”
“Could be anybody. Millions and millions of soldiers have already died. And pigeons, for that matter.”
“Is this one for Prince then?”
“It could be.”
“Where did you get the crosses from, Alfie? One of the ladies in town says somebody stole her fence. These crosses all look like they were once part of a fence.”
Alfie bent down and studied the crosses ostentatiously.
“I’d say you are quite correct in that regard, sir.”
“Alfie, look at me. Did you cut up Mrs. Valentine’s fence?”
“Did somebody see me do that, sir?”
“Did you or didn’t you?” Tyler asked in exasperation.
“No. I found them just behind our cottage.”
Tyler didn’t believe him for a minute, but he doubted Alfie was going to confess to the theft. If he even remembered that’s what he’d done.
Alfie gave him a disarming smile. “In my opinion, those markers are a good thing.”
“I tend to agree with you, Alfie, but I think we have to remove them for the time being. People might get upset if they see them.”
Alfie thought for a moment. “You are probably correct about that, sir. Shall I pull them out?”
Before he could do that, the constable stepped forward. “May I interject for a moment, sir?”
“Be my guest, interject away.”
Biggs looked at Alfie. “Perhaps you should show the inspector what you have in your pocket.”
“Don’t have nothing,” said Alfie. He opened up his palms. “See. Empty.” He took a couple of steps back. “Can I go now? I’ve got to be in the kitchen or my ma will give me an earful.”
The constable blocked the way. “I think you should turn your pockets inside out. Just to make sure.”
“Why’re you going on at me?” asked Alfie with a scowl. “I don’t have nothing, I told you.”
Tyler spoke in a stern voice. “Alfie, this gentleman is a constable of the law, just like I am. If he wants to see your pockets turned inside out, he has the right. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about.”
No Known Grave Page 24
