‘That is why I instructed Bert to open the French Windows … all of them. There is quite a breeze coming in.’
‘If there is, I can’t feel it.’
Afternoon tea in the library was an established part of their routine. What was novel about this occasion was the utilitarian crockery. Before commenting, Sir Charles cast a wry glance at a cabinet full of fine porcelain. In particular he eyed a teacup, the sort that made anyone sipping from it splay out his or her fingers like a cockatoo’s crest.
‘I know what you are thinking, Charles, but in my opinion it is never too early to fly the flag.’
‘The last time I drank out of a tin mug was in nineteen-seventeen. I was in a trench up to my knees in mud. What’s wrong with the Crown Derby?’
‘Hitler might break it.’
‘We are not at war … yet.’
‘Your napkin, please use it … the heat is making the strawberry jam runny. If you must know I am setting a good example. At a WVS meeting Clarkson-Ball told us that if we go to war with Germany we can expect to be bombed.’
‘CB is a windbag.’
‘If Harry marries his daughter he will be family. I know you don’t hold him in high regard, but it seemed to me he spoke a lot of sense. Do you know a bomb dropped half a mile away will bring down our ceilings?’
‘And break the Crown Derby?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the Worcester?’
‘I am making plans to have that stored in the cellar. Charles, we must be prepared. Cook was telling me that you have started stockpiling Darjeeling. I don’t see why you should take umbrage at my precautionary measures when you are doing the same. And do stop nodding your head like that; it might fall off. If you agree with me, say so … watercress or cucumber?’
‘Ask me if I want ham.’
‘Your habit of asking for something not on the table … in that roundabout way, I find most annoying. I know you like ham sandwiches. I have been married to you for forty years.’
‘With mustard … ask me if I want mustard on the ham.’
‘You know as well as I do that we agreed to veto ham to help Jack. We don’t want him turning into a gentile, do we? We must respect the boy’s religion. That is what we will be fighting for. The right of each individual to live their life as he or she chooses.’
‘I’m confused … as far as I’m aware Jack is not taking tea with us. I know he’s good at hiding … perhaps I should look under the carpet.’
‘What if he pops in?’
‘He’s probably collecting slugs to put on my melons … actually he’s down at Mike’s practising the longbow.’
‘That child needs all the love we can give him. I don’t want him feeling awkward having to refuse food we’ve prepared for him.’
‘A slice of pig won’t hurt him.’
‘It will not make him a good Jew.’
‘I think Jack will say a good Jew is a Jew who kills Germans. According to Mike, he likes nothing better than a bacon sandwich. In the trenches I once ate rat.’
‘Not that story again.’
‘Mike knows what he’s doing. He’s good at looking after fledglings … that’s why we have so many pheasants to shoot.’
‘You are surely not comparing the raising of game birds to looking after a child?’
‘I am pointing out that Mike is trustworthy and reliable. He and Margaret have all but adopted the lad. Mike tells me his wife is quite besotted with him. And so, my dear, I think are you.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘What else can explain the absence of ham sandwiches? Until Jack came on the scene we always had ham sandwiches for tea … with mustard.’
‘Charles, if you mention ham sandwiches once more I will scream.’
‘It would be better if you rang the bell and told Cook to make me some. And another thing … an aesthetic point, dainty triangles filled with cucumber do not look right on tin plates. It’s … it’s as out of place as riding to hounds in Oxford bags.’
‘I blame Freddy.’
‘What for?’
‘Making you grumpy … thank goodness George is coming, he always puts you in a good mood. My efforts to do so have singularly failed. I thought taking tea at the French window would have put a smile on your face … clearly, I was wrong. Charles … I do try to please.’
‘I know you do, my darling and it is much appreciated.’
‘Please do not call me “darling”. You only do that when you are being facetious.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And don’t apologise.’
‘Give me your hand. Let’s not argue. For dinner tonight let’s do something romantic. If Mr Hitler oversteps the mark it may be our last chance to do carefree things for many years to come. I told Harry to take the MG. Goodness knows what time he’ll be back. Do you really think he’s sweet on Pruney? Let’s not hide behind French doors, even if they are open. Tell Bert to set a table on the terrace. We’ll toast sunset with a bottle of something nice. Such a warm evening is not to be taken for granted …it is to be enjoyed. If the midges bother you wear a hat with a veil.’
At dinner, after a second glass of wine, Lady Elizabeth patted her husband’s hand. ‘Charles, it is as warm as Cannes. It was a good idea. You are not often right but this time you are … you were right and I was wrong.’
‘What about the midges?’
‘Your pipe and my perfume have scared them off.’
She wished the evening would go on forever. The long shadows of evening, the bird song, the sheer green lusciousness of England made her forget that horrid Adolf Hitler. She was happy. Manicured lawns, flower beds and, in the distance, the rolling acres of her husband’s estate held her gaze like a hypnotist’s pendulum.
‘So still, so still,’ she chanted. ‘The fields are green swimming pools. They are like Dot’s pool at Cannes, first thing in the morning … before swimmers make ripples.’
‘And here comes someone who, I rather fancy, is going to make a bomb splash … you know, like Freddy does, diluting our martinis with spray.’
Both craned forward to get a better view of Bert hurdling over a bed of red-hot pokers.
‘For goodness sake, Bert, what is it?’ asked Lady Elizabeth.
‘My apologies, Milady, but London is on the phone for Sir Charles. It is urgent.’
‘Freddy?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We were just talking about him … that’s a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘Lord Frederick left me no choice, sir, but to interrupt your meal … Cook is furious.’
‘The lemon soufflés?’
‘They are ready to serve, sir. When I told Phyllis to put them on hold she became agitated. An airborne rolling pin forced me to exit the kitchen through the garden door, hence my gallop across the lawn.’
‘Soufflés and Freddy: one goes flat if it is kept waiting … the other explodes.’
‘I’ve taken the liberty of putting the call through to the study, sir. Lord Frederick’s agitation suggests the special phone will be needed.’
9
‘Go ahead, Freddy, I’m on the scrambler.’
‘Bad news, I’m afraid. The captain of the Nord has notified the local police that he’s lost a man overboard.’
‘Byker-Harrison?’
‘Yes. The Germans have witnesses … two members of the crew …all Nazis of course … victims of indoctrination … they’d swear to anything. Why they’ve reported the incident, I don’t know.’
‘Germans love filling in forms … doing things by the book.’
‘Perhaps the filling in of a few forms makes them feel that bumping off an Englishman is an OK thing to do.’
‘What’s their story?’
‘They claim B-H was drunk and jumped. Rubbish, of course. B-H could drink a bottle
of whisky and still thread a needle. I’ve told the inspector looking into the matter not to make too much of a fuss. I don’t want HMG involved in a diplomatic row – there’s already more than enough trouble between Germany and England. No need to put cream on that trifle.’
‘That sounds like appeasement. I thought that phase of our foreign policy was finished.’
‘Appeasement is a badly shot buck, Charlie. Before it falls, it staggers. My suspicion is that one of the ‘spyclists’ is a murderer. When he is caught and found guilty he will hang. That is justice, not appeasement. Tonight these thugs are camping on Newcastle’s Town Moor. A bit like London’s Hampstead Heath, I’ve been told.’
‘It’s acres of grassland to the north of the city. If you are a freeman of the city you have grazing rights.’
‘As from tonight it would seem a gang of Nazis has been given ‘camping rights’. I’ve been told that when they cycled through the ‘toon’, as I believe the locals call their city, these vermin sang the Horst Wessel … can you believe it? Worse, the chief constable has informed me that they were applauded. You Geordies are too hospitable.’
‘What the good people of Newcastle were responding to was, I suspect, a kind of mini Hitler rally. Freddy, we may not like these people, but they are impressive. They are motivated in a way we are not. A Hitler rally is like drinking champagne. It goes to the head. I speak from experience. I tell you frankly, at Nuremberg the waves of emotion which swept through the stadium almost had me shouting, ‘Sieg Heil’.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No, I did not.’
‘I would have refused to believe any other answer.’
‘All I am saying is, the man in the street should not be blamed for aping his betters. Too many of our politicians are ambivalent about Hitler. If Londonderry had been in the crowd he’d have offered to oil the blighters’ bicycle chains.’
‘Winston wouldn’t, he’s raging about these ‘spyclists’. He wants to shoot them. When Winston is on your side, doors don’t so much open as fall down. He’s adamant that we are given carte blanche. He may not be in the government, but he has tremendous influence. Charles, we can’t let him down. When these thugs head your way, I want the people in your neck of the woods to be vigilant to a man. We’ll make our HQ the Vicarage. Lots of resources there and, by God, we’ll use them. In the meantime, the local constabulary will be keeping an eye on them. If they split up, we’ll have our work cut out. Instead of following them individually our plan is to put men in areas where we’ve a good idea they’ll want to go snooping … the Tyne’s many bridges, Armstrong’s tank and gun factory. Any Nazis seen taking photographs there will be dealt with. I’ve been told it’s on Scotswood Road … a rough area?’
‘Very, more public houses per square mile than any other street in England.’
‘Fights often break out?’
‘Yes.’
‘If any Nazi gets too nosey we’ll dish out to them a taste of what they are giving the Jews. Charlie, you are on standby. By the by, what’s the weather like up there?’
‘Warm and sunny.’
‘Pity, I was hoping it might be cold and wet. I do hope our German visitors are not finding it too warm sleeping under canvas.’
‘Freddy, that’s schadenfreude.’
‘I know … what sort of people are they to need a word to describe one’s malicious joy at another’s misfortune? I shall ponder that in my bath … my love to Elizabeth.’
Lady Elizabeth was at her husband as soon as he came out of the study.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Walking the dogs.’
‘You never walk them at this time.’
‘I’m off to see Mike.’
‘Because of Freddy’s phone call?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Things have turned nasty. One of our agents is missing.’
‘Murdered?’
‘Probably.’
‘By whom?’
‘The Hitler Youth.’
‘Do we have to have them?’
‘England Expects … did the scrambler work by the way?’
‘You knew I was trying to listen in?’
‘Did it work?’
‘Yes … I found it most frustrating not being able to eavesdrop. Someone sensible has to know what you are up to. Charles, you are no longer young. You need looking after.’
‘In that case why can’t I have ham sandwiches … with mustard?’
Before going their separate ways, they embraced with a passion more in keeping with a bedroom than a public place.
In the snug privacy of the gamekeeper’s potting shed Sir Charles repeated to Mike everything London had told him.
‘After all these years I’m going to be hunting Germans again – that can’t be a bad thing, can it? And one of them might be a murderer, that’s even better. If they want to fight rough and dirty, that suits me fine. If they want to give out bloody noses they’d better be ready to receive them. This calls for a glass.’
‘In anticipation of your reaction I packed my hip flask.’
‘Rusty Nail?’
‘How did you guess? Of course, I didn’t tell Elizabeth. If she had her way I’d be on carrot juice all day and every day.’
By the time the two friends, master and servant, had finalised their plans, they were feeling rather merry.
10
Close to midnight Bert roused Sir Charles from his slumbers.
‘It’s Lord Frederick, sir. I told him you were in bed, but he said if I didn’t wake you he’d shoot me. I don’t think his Lordship meant it … just his way of telling me it was urgent. I’ve put the call through to the study, sir … on the scrambler.’
In his rush to get out of bed Sir Charles knocked over a lamp. Lady Elizabeth seethed.
‘I’ve told you before not to drink with Mike,’ she told her husband. ‘He leads you astray. He has a strong head … you don’t. Do you know what you are doing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want me to take the call?’
‘No.’
‘Bert, bring Sir Charles a glass of water … he needs rehydrating.’
‘Go ahead, Freddy, I’m on the scrambler.’
‘It’s about Professor Striker. Her bags have been found. She was a passenger on the Nord – did you know that?’
‘No. Where is she now?’
‘She’s disappeared.’
‘Not another “man overboard”?’
‘We don’t think so.’
‘Did she disembark?’
‘We’re not sure … lots of rumours flying around … witnesses say they saw a woman running down the quayside. She was been chased by a man who more than one witness has described as a “gorilla” … there’s been a shooting in a railway warehouse on the other side of the river, a guy with a split head’s in hospital … we think he might be involved. Charlie, we have to find her. She’s the eyes and ears of the president of the United States.’
Back in bed Sir Charles and Lady Elizabeth discussed what might have happened to Professor Striker.
‘It seems to me,’ said Sir Charles, ‘that the Nord is a singularly ill-fated ship. One passenger falls overboard and another goes missing … and neither of them are Germans.’
‘How much did you have to drink with Mike?’
‘I’m perfectly sober.’
‘You do realise the lamp you knocked over is broken?’
‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’
‘It will.’
‘It won’t.’
‘It will.’
‘I agree … you are right … it will happen again … happy?’
A couple of hours later, both sleeping as far apart as the bed allowed, Bert coughed to wake them up.
‘What now?’ grumbled Sir Charles.
‘It’s Mr Harry, sir, he has bad news.’
‘Charles, what is it?’
‘It’s Harry.’
‘Hitler?’
‘No, Harry … something to do with Harry. Where is he?’
‘The library, sir.’
‘We’ll be straight down.’
‘Have you been down a coalmine, Harry?’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘You look like one of those coalminers I saw on Pathe News. Your dinner jacket is missing a sleeve. Whatever have you been doing? I know you’ve been partying but really … in my day we did have standards.’
In his time at the Front Sir Charles had seen many men in shock. ‘What is it, Harry? What’s happened? A car accident?’ Harry shook his head. ‘Sit down, my boy.’
‘Pruney’s dead.’
‘What?’
‘They’ve blown up the Assembly Rooms.’
‘Who has?’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘The Irish Republicans … they’ve had a go at London and Manchester; tonight it was Newcastle’s turn. Is this what war is like, Uncle Charles?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is.’
‘I don’t want any part of it.’
‘Bert?’
‘Like we used to do, sir?’
Sir Charles nodded. ‘Now, Harry, tell us what happened … Bert’s bringing tea.’
Bert served the tea in the enamelled mugs he’d been told to use for afternoon tea. ‘Trench mugs, sir … a little something extra for Mr Harry … two sugars, I’d recommend.’
‘Don’t forget the brandy.’
‘No fear of that, sir.’
‘And I’ll have the same.’
‘Charles, you’ve already had too much to drink.’
The ‘look ’he gave his wife made it clear to that good lady that this was not the time for a lecture.
‘And one for yourself, Bert.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
After a few sips of his ‘medicine’, Harry did his best to explain what had happened.
‘I was at the bar buying drinks when the bomb went off … if I hadn’t I’d be dead. You know what happened to Pruney? They blew her head off. I found it under a table. I don’t know where my sleeve is. I did look for it, but I couldn’t find it.’
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