Bull gave Harry a long level look. He admired the young man’s brass to bring him such a message.
‘If I do decide it’s worth doing,’ he said, ‘we’ll have to fix a meet with Maxton. Neutral territory.’ He turned to Ratcliffe and said, ‘Where’s them papers, Rat?’
The Rat held out the envelope and Bull emptied it onto his desk. ‘Looks as if Freddie’s done his usual good job.’ He glanced up at Harry. ‘What’re they worth to you?’
‘Agreed a grand with Freddie,’ Harry said. ‘I got nine hundred in the car... unless Mick Derham’s done a runner with it, but even he couldn’t be that stupid.’
‘That and another grand and they’re yours,’ Bull said, getting to his feet. He pushed the documents back into the envelope and locked them in a drawer of his desk. ‘Need a bit of compensation for all the trouble you’ve caused us.’
‘I ain’t got that much,’ Harry said.
‘Then you better set about getting it, Harry. You can come back when you have and then, maybe, we’ll discuss Denny’s proposition. You can take your motor, when you’ve given Rat the cash out of it.’
Five minutes later, Harry was again behind the wheel of Denny Dunc’s car, driving back to his room at the Malvern Hotel. He had survived, but he knew that the evening could have ended very differently.
10
It was Saturday and Charlotte had an afternoon with no children, a rare thing. Margaret had suggested that they should come to her for the afternoon to give Charlotte a little time to herself. Charlotte had accepted with alacrity and Billy had taken them over for their dinner and would bring them back in time for bed.
‘What will you do with yourself?’ he teased as she got the children ready to go. She smiled across at him as she put two bottles and some nappies in a bag for Edie.
‘The ironing, of course!’
‘Ironing! You’re supposed to be having an afternoon to yourself!’
‘Silly,’ laughed Charlotte. ‘I shall go over to Clare’s and admire her baby. I haven’t seen her yet and I’ve got a little present for her. We’ll be able to have a good old chinwag.’
‘Sounds more like it,’ Billy said and picked up the bag. ‘Come on, young man,’ he called to Johnny who was already waiting by the door. ‘Let’s go and see Gr’ma.’
Charlotte watched them going out into the lane, Johnny helping to push Edie in her pram, and waved when they turned back to wave to her. Then she went back into the house to pick up the little matinée jacket she’d knitted for Clare’s new baby. She stood in the strangely silent house for a moment. A whole afternoon to herself; she could hardly believe it.
Well, make the most of it, she told herself, and putting the jacket into her bag, she set off for Clare’s.
It was a perfect October afternoon, the air crisp and cool, the sun shining from a periwinkle sky. Charlotte walked with a spring in her step as she left the village green and strode along the lane leading to the little farm cottage where Malcolm and Clare lived. A whole afternoon to herself.
As she passed the ornate gates of the manor house she heard someone shouting, calling her name, and turning she saw Marjorie Bellinger rushing down the manor drive, frantically waving her arms in the air.
‘Charlotte! Charlotte! Help!’
Charlotte ran to meet her calling, ‘Mrs Bellinger! What on earth’s the matter?’
‘It’s Peter,’ Marjorie cried, a sob in her voice. ‘He’s collapsed! I’ve tried to ring Dr Masters, but our phone seems to be out of order. Can you go for him? Tell him to be quick!’
‘I’ll find him,’ Charlotte said at once. ‘You go back to the major. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
She turned and ran back along the lane, crossing the village green to the square, red-brick house set back from the road where the doctor lived and had his surgery. She ran up to the front door and banged hard on the knocker. Her heart was pounding. She’d done just this when she’d found Miss Edie lying on the floor all those years ago. ‘Come on! Come on!’ she muttered when there was no response, the sound of the knocker echoing away into the silence of the house. She pushed open the letter box and peered through. The hall was empty. There was a stillness about the place and she was certain that there was no one at home; it was Saturday after all, Dr Masters could be anywhere, but she ran round to the back garden, just to be sure he wasn’t at work in his vegetable patch. A fork was stuck into the ground at the end of a row of potatoes, but there was no sign him.
What now? thought Charlotte, at a loss for a moment. Then she was running back across the green and pounding on the vicarage front door.
Avril Swanson opened the door and finding her on the step said, ‘Charlotte, how lovely! Come on in.’
‘Major Bellinger’s collapsed,’ Charlotte said breathlessly. ‘Mrs Bellinger’s with him but their phone’s out of order. Dr Masters is out. Can you ring for an ambulance?’
‘Of course!’ Avril turned back indoors, calling to her husband, David, to come quickly. Charlotte followed her inside and as Avril rang 999, Charlotte told the vicar what had happened.
‘I’ll come at once,’ he said, picking up his coat and slipping his prayer book into his pocket.
‘They’re coming,’ Avril said as she put the phone down. ‘They’ll be here as soon as they can.’
All three hurried down the lane to the manor to see if there was anything else they could do, and to be with Marjorie while she waited for the ambulance. The front door stood ajar and Avril pushed it wide, calling to Marjorie as she did so.
‘Marjorie! We’re here. The ambulance is on its way.’
‘In here!’
They found Marjorie in Peter’s study. Peter was lying on the floor, his eyes closed, his breath rasping in his throat.
‘I can’t get him up,’ Marjorie said, her face rigid in her effort not to cry. ‘I can’t get him up off the floor. We should get him onto the couch.’
‘We’ll help,’ Avril said, ‘easy now.’ And between the four of them they managed to lift the inert form of Peter Bellinger off the floor and lie him on the sofa in the corner of the room. He was still struggling for breath. Marjorie set a cushion under his head and then sat down beside him, holding his hand.
‘What happened?’ Avril asked softly.
‘I don’t know,’ murmured Marjorie, still fighting her tears. ‘I was in the kitchen getting lunch and I heard a crash. I called out to see if he was all right but he didn’t answer so I came in to see what had happened and there he was.’ Her lip trembled. ‘He looks awful! Do you think the ambulance’ll be long?’
‘They said they were on their way,’ Avril said. ‘I’m sure they’ll be here soon.’ She took Marjorie’s other hand and squeezed it encouragingly. Charlotte stood by the window, looking out in the hope of seeing the ambulance, and David sat in the corner, his eyes closed in quiet prayer. Silence fell around them, a silence made more profound by Peter’s stentorian breathing.
‘I’ll go out onto the green and watch for them,’ Charlotte said, unable to endure the tense silence any longer, and leaving the Swansons with Marjorie, she hurried back down the lane to wait.
When she reached the green she sat on a bench, watching the road into the village, and she thought again of the day she’d found Miss Edie on the floor. She’d run for Dr Masters then, but it had been too late. At least, she thought, Major Bellinger is still alive.
The steady clang of the ambulance’s bell brought her sharply back to the present and a moment later it swung round the corner, bell still clanging, blue light flashing on its roof. Charlotte flagged it down and directed the driver along the lane to the manor. She was aware of people coming out onto the green to see what was going on, but she kept her head down and hurried after the ambulance before they could ask questions. Village gossip would catch up with what had happened soon enough.
Back at the house the ambulance men hurried indoors to where Peter lay on the sofa.
‘Looks like a stroke, ma’am,’ one of t
hem said to Marjorie. ‘Hospital for him. We’ll be taking him straight to Bristol. You can ride with him in the ambulance if you want to. No time to lose, though.’
Gently they moved him onto a stretcher and carried him out to the ambulance and Marjorie, grabbing her handbag, hurried after them.
‘What about Felix?’ Avril called to her as she scrambled in beside her husband.
‘I don’t know where he is,’ Marjorie called back.
‘Ring us when you know how things are,’ David said. ‘And when you want to come home, I’ll come and fetch you.’
One ambulance man got into the back with his patient and the other climbed up into the cab and started the engine. The back doors slammed shut and Avril, David and Charlotte watched as the ambulance drew away, its bell clanging its urgency.
The Swansons locked up the house and then, paying no attention to those still gathered, wondering, on the green, the three of them went into the vicarage. Avril put the kettle on and they all sat down at the kitchen table to discuss what else needed to be done.
‘The first thing is to get hold of Felix,’ Avril said. ‘We have to let him know what’s happened.’
‘Isn’t he still on his honeymoon?’ asked David. ‘Do you know where they were going?’
Avril shook her head. ‘No, but Marjorie may do, once she thinks about it.’
‘We still may not be able to contact him,’ David said. ‘How long were they going for?’
‘Only a week, I think,’ said Avril. ‘When they got home from the wedding last weekend, Marjorie said something about Felix only being allowed a week away from the Air Ministry.’
‘And you can’t remember where she said they were going?’
‘I’m not sure she knows. I think Felix was keeping it a secret.’
‘Hmm,’ said David. ‘Well, if it was only a week, that probably means he’ll be home today or tomorrow.’
When they’d finished their tea, Charlotte left the vicarage and went back along the lane to visit Clare and her new daughter, as promised. There was nothing more to be done until Mrs Bellinger phoned with further news from the hospital.
‘I began to think you wasn’t coming,’ Clare said when she opened the door. She led the way inside and Charlotte was taken to peep into the little crib where the baby was fast asleep.
‘I’m sorry,’ Charlotte explained, ‘I was on my way, but Major Bellinger has had a stroke or something and Mrs Bellinger sent me for the doctor.’
‘Is he all right?’ asked Clare, immediately interested. The Bellingers had fostered her husband, Malcolm, when they had all been evacuated from London. Neither Clare nor Malcolm had had any family to return to after the war, and they had both stayed on in Wynsdown. ‘Is there anything Malcolm or I can do?’
‘I should think you’ve got your hands pretty full here,’ Charlotte said. ‘Mrs Bellinger went with him in the ambulance, so when she phones the vicar we shall know more. The Swansons are going to try and get hold of Felix and let him know. We think he’s back from his honeymoon today or tomorrow. Just hope he’s back in time.’
Clare looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘D’you think he’s going to die?’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘I don’t know, do I? All I can say is that he looked pretty awful and sounded worse.’ Changing the subject to happier things she pulled out the matinée jacket from her bag and handed it to Clare. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘I made this for her. Have you chosen a name yet?’
‘Agnes,’ Clare replied, ‘after my nan.’
‘Well, this is for Agnes, then,’ Charlotte said and laid the little coat on the bottom of the crib.
For the next hour or so they chatted about babies in general and their babies in particular until Agnes awoke and demanded her next feed. Charlotte looked at her watch and gave an exclamation.
‘Look at the time! Billy’ll be home with the children soon. I must dash.’
As she passed the vicarage she saw Avril at a window and waved. Avril waved back, but she didn’t come out. There was clearly no more news.
She had been in the house only a quarter of an hour when her family arrived home, full of the day’s doings.
Billy carried Edie indoors. ‘Hallo, love,’ he said as he handed her over to Charlotte. ‘How were Clare and the baby? Had a nice peaceful afternoon?’
‘Anything but,’ Charlotte told him and with a nod to the children said, ‘I’ll tell you all about it over supper.’
Johnny, as always, still seemed to be bursting with energy and rushed into the kitchen, hugging her round the knees and crying, ‘I did riding again, Mummy. Gramp says I’m getting gooder every time! And Daddy let me see Rustler and give him a sugar lump.’
Charlotte looked at Billy in alarm. ‘Billy, you didn’t let him go near Rustler, did you?’
‘Don’t worry, Char,’ Billy reassured her. ‘I was holding on to the horse. Johnny simply gave him the sugar.’
‘It’s all right, Mummy,’ Johnny said earnestly, ‘I put my hand flat like Daddy said. Rustler liked the sugar. His lips was all tickly.’
Charlotte, trying to set aside her fear of Billy’s hunter, Rustler, managed a laugh as she returned his hug and said, ‘Well done you, Johnny. It sounds as if you’ve had a lovely time.’
‘And we had eggs for tea,’ Johnny told her. ‘Well, not Edie cos she’s too little, but Gr’ma made me toast soldiers and they got all eggy.’
‘So did you, young man,’ Billy grinned. ‘Come on, bath-time for you. Mummy’s got to feed Edie.’
*
‘So, at the moment no one knows how to get hold of Felix,’ Charlotte explained later. ‘The Swansons think he may still be on his honeymoon, he was only married last week.’
‘Surely his mother’ll know where he is?’ said Billy.
‘She probably does,’ agreed Charlotte, ‘but, as you can imagine, she was in a dreadful state when she got into the ambulance. I expect she’ll remember when things calm down a bit.’
The news was soon round the village and by the next morning it seemed that everyone had heard. People gathering outside the church before the service were discussing what had happened, what they’d seen and heard, what they thought they’d seen and heard. By the time the five-minute bell fell silent and the latecomers scurried into church, poor Peter Bellinger had had a heart attack, had broken his neck in a fall, had had a stroke, was dead and in his grave.
‘Reminds me of when Miss Everard died unexpected like,’ Nancy Bright whispered to Sally Prynne, next to her in the pew. ‘She were found dead on the floor like that.’ Then she clapped her hand to her mouth as she saw Charlotte coming into the church.
During the service, the vicar took the opportunity of setting the story to rights, before offering up prayers for the major’s swift recovery.
‘I’m sure you’ve all heard the sad news that the squire had to be rushed to hospital yesterday afternoon. Mrs Bellinger went with him and has gone back to the hospital again this morning. The news I’ve received from her by phone this morning is that though he hasn’t regained consciousness yet, he’s in a stable condition. I’m sure you all wish him a speedy recovery and will be thinking of poor Mrs Bellinger as she waits for definite news. Let us pray.’ There was a whispering and a scuffling among the congregation as they all knelt to join with his prayers.
After the service Avril took Charlotte to one side. ‘He really isn’t very good at all,’ she confided. ‘Poor Marjorie stayed until nearly midnight last night, when David went to fetch her. There’d been no change in his condition by the time she left, and when she got there again this morning, he was as she’d left him. I just wish we could get hold of Felix.’
‘Doesn’t Mrs Bellinger really know where he is?’ Charlotte asked.
Avril shrugged. ‘She thinks they went to Paris.’
‘But doesn’t she know when they’re getting back?’
‘She thinks they’ll be back in London today, but they haven’t got a phone, so she can’t get hold of him until to
morrow when he gets back to the Air Ministry. She’ll try and ring him there first thing in the morning.’
*
Felix had been quite glad to get back to work that Monday morning. He carried with him a vague feeling of disappointment. His wedding night and his honeymoon had not been quite as he’d imagined them, and as the days passed he found that he and Daphne had little to say to each other. He still found her very attractive, her smile made his heart skip a beat and the thought of taking her to bed each night made him harden in anticipation, but he knew she didn’t enjoy his lovemaking. He kept telling himself she’d come to enjoy it, that when she got used to him, she’d derive the same pleasure from him that he did from her, but somehow everything had been a bit of an anticlimax.
When he’d arrived in his office that morning he’d been greeted with a few sly smiles and comments; how tired he looked, after his holiday! What on earth had he been up to? All this he took in good part. He was glad to be back among people he’d been working with for months, friends and colleagues with whom he felt comfortable.
His secretary, Miss Dixon, followed him into his office with her notepad.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said with a smile. ‘I hope you had a good holiday.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Felix said, returning her smile. ‘What’s been going on here?’
‘I’ve sorted all the correspondence and memos that came for you while you were away, sir,’ she replied. ‘It’s in three piles on your desk. Left to right, most urgent, less urgent and not urgent at all. Shall I leave you to it? Oh, and Group Captain Hague wants to see you in his office at ten.’
‘Does he? Know what that’s about?’
‘No, sir, he didn’t say. Just that there was a meeting that he wanted you to attend.’
Felix shrugged. ‘Oh, well,’ he said, ‘no doubt I’ll find out.’
He started going through the papers and was about to call Miss Dixon back in to take dictation when the phone on his desk rang.
‘A trunk call for you, Wing Commander,’ said the switchboard girl. ‘Putting you through.’
The Married Girls Page 11
