Spies on Bikes

by Dennis Forster

‘Why should anyone want to feel sorry for Phyllis? She is not a refugee.’

  ‘She does not get a holiday.’

  ‘I have never thought about that. I mean, she’s Phyllis. She’s always there. She’s paid to be there. She’s kind to everyone except Bert. She doesn’t like Bert. When I go into the kitchen she gives me marzipan.’

  ‘She’s given me marzipan.’

  ‘Do you like it?’ Jack pulled a face. ‘If she gives you some, you take it and give it to me. I love marzipan. What are the Nazis doing?’

  Jack picked up the binoculars. He liked using them. They made him feel like a soldier.

  ‘I can see their camp fire. They are eating.’

  ‘My mushrooms?’

  ‘Too far away to tell.’

  ‘Jack, would you like to give the Nazis a pain in their tummies? That big Nazi who attacked me said he wanted my mushrooms. Why don’t we pick him some?’

  ‘I’m not picking mushrooms to give to Nazis.’

  ‘What if they were poisonous mushrooms?’

  ‘Why would they eat poisonous mushrooms?’

  ‘We will make them want them.’

  ‘The way they want Poland?’

  ‘But how?’ Jack listened. ‘That is a wisdom of King Solomon plan. You must be Jewish.’

  ‘No, I am Northumbrian. My ancestors were Reivers.’

  54

  In bed with her husband snuggled up beside her, Lady Elizabeth confided to the love of her life, ’Emily’s performance was operatic, don’t you think?’

  ‘Operatic?’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘Her recitative, dear.’

  ‘The length of time it takes an opera singer to die?’

  ‘Yes, everyone knows Emily listens in to our conversations. Did you count the number of times she explained that she only knew about the American on the phone because she was making sure the connection was working?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Four times.’

  ‘Her recitative?’

  ‘Yes, and you, Charles, know I do not like opera.’

  Friday 1st September 1939

  1

  Sir Charles and Bert watched O’Neil from under the branches of an ancient yew. Sir Charles had his arms folded. Bert wanted to do the same but thought the stance unsuitable for a servant.

  ‘He’s filling in time,’ said Sir Charles, ‘but what’s he up to? Why is he carrying a bag of golf clubs while at the same time using my putter for his knock around? What time’s his taxi, Bert?’

  ‘In an hour, sir.’

  ‘He refused my offer of having one of The Hall’s staff drive him to the golf course … said he liked trains, got quite huffy when I tried to insist. Refused point blank to join the shoot. Tell me again what happened when he gave you the tip.’

  ‘It was when the golf bag he won’t let anyone near fell over, sir. A club fell out.’

  ‘A Mashie-Niblick?’

  ‘Yes, sir. There was no length to its handle; looked to me more like a cricket stump than a golf club.’

  ‘Too short to play with?’

  ‘Definitely, sir. When he saw that I’d seen it he snapped sharp at me. “Don’t ever touch my clubs,” he said. He sounded as if he meant it, sir. Then he laughed and gave me the bribe.’

  ‘What’s his game, Bert?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir, but every time he’s taken a swipe at that ball he’s taken himself further away from The Hall. Now he’s in the bushes. And, do you know what, sir? It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t come out. And I think I know where he’s a heading.’

  ‘So do I. Trail him, Bert.’

  ‘Boo!’ said Marigold. ‘On whom are you spying?’

  ‘We are bird watching,’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘Don’t believe you.’

  ‘You can’t have rumbled me, I’m a retired diplomat – telling porkies was my profession.’

  ‘Then you are out of practice. Isn’t that right, Bert?’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘Carry on, Bert.’

  ‘Sar!’

  ‘Tell me, Charles,’ said Marigold, as they watched Bert disappear, ‘why does your ‘man’ sometimes call you, “sir” and sometimes, “sar!”?’

  ‘When I told him to “carry on” he thought he and I were back in the army. “Carry on” is army jargon. It means something like, you are dismissed. Go away and get on with the job you’ve been told to do.’

  ‘And what “job” has he been told to do?’

  ‘He’s keeping an eye on O’Neil. We think your compatriot is off to use the telephone box at the crossroads.’

  ‘Before he goes off to play that game of golf he was mouthing off about over breakfast?’

  Bert’s speedy return told Sir Charles something was afoot.

  ‘He’s doing what we thought, sir.’

  ‘He’s telephoning?’

  ‘He is now, sir but he’s had to wait. When he got to the box a member of the Hitler Youth was using it. Both parties, sir, are what you might call agitated. There’s something going on in the Nazi camp. They’re running around like scalded cats. I don’t speak German, sir, but the mouthful the young Nazi shouted at Mr O’Neil, well, it didn’t sound as if he was asking Mr O’Neil if his father was keeping well.’

  ‘Be a good chap, go and see what’s happening. If O’Neil asks why you are prowling, tell him the truth. Something’s up at the Nazi camp and you’ve been sent to investigate. Carry on, Bert.’

  ‘Sar!’

  ‘I never knew butlers could run,’ said Marigold.

  ‘In his youth Bert was the village’s one hundred yard sprint champion.’

  ‘Give me your arm, Charlie. Now, while you and me go “walkies” round this nice big garden of yours, let’s talk. Jasper, Mario and Angus are out on the shoot?’ Sir Charles nodded. ‘What if, to encourage an exchange of ideas, I told you I know that Professor Freud is working for Freddy?’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘I’m the President’s eyes and ears. The Herr Professor is working for you Brits because we in the States are bowled over by his ideas. When I get round to signing The Hall’s Visitor’s Book, I’m using my real name.’

  ‘The Americans made MI5 employ the professor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Freddy did mention that the Professor had been foisted on him.’

  ‘America is a new country. We welcome new ideas. Ever played word association?’

  ‘After Bridge it’s my favourite game.’

  ‘Cat?’

  ‘Dog.’

  ‘America?’

  ‘Help.’

  ‘Which of course is the reason I and my fellow Americans are here. Toasted muffin?’

  ‘Are we still playing?’

  ‘Yes, toasted muffin?’

  ‘Afternoon tea.’

  ‘You ask a Bostonian to word associate “toasted muffin” and eighty per cent of them will reply, “Burn the British”.’

  ‘They’ve not forgotten their Tea Party?’

  ‘In a Boston diner you don’t ask for a “toasted muffin”, you ask for a “Burn the British”. “Gimme two Burn the British,” they say. Sometimes I think they enjoy saying it more than the muffins.’

  ‘I understand what you are saying. A lot of Americans do not like the British.’

  ‘That’s the Kilimanjaro you have to climb. Trust me, Charlie. I will do my best to help your cause. I’m pro-British. My great-grandmother came from this part of the world.’

  ‘I know, she was a Grey. One of her ancestors stands on top of a column in Newcastle.’

  ‘You have done your homework. Or should I say MI5 has done it for you.’

  ‘Was it by chance you were on the Nord with the Hitler Youth and an Irish fanatic or was the CIA inv
olved?’

  ‘Let’s sit,’ said Marigold.

  She steered Sir Charles to a white garden seat with a wheel at one end and handles at the other.

  ‘I love wheelbarrow seats,’ said Marigold. ‘I call them, follow the sun seats. If only life were like a wheelbarrow seat, Charlie. Every time something nasty was about to happen we could wheel ourselves out of harm’s way. Bert’s taking his time. Did he save your life in the war? Isn’t that what happens when a master takes his servant to war?’

  ‘No, he did not and nor did I save his. We relied on each other. We helped each other. If you must know sometimes both of us were so scared we forgot all about class. We wanted only one thing and that was to survive.’

  ‘Which is why you do not want another war at any cost?’

  ‘You will twist the President’s arm?’

  ‘Charlie, no one does that to President Roosevelt. He does the arm twisting. Here comes Bert. Over here, Bert.’

  ‘Mr O’Neil’s on the telephone, sir and the Nazis have been poisoned. They say the two boys who live here gave them poison mushrooms.’

  ‘George and Jack?’

  ‘It has to be them, sir. Some of the Nazis are hallucinating, some are terrible sick and one is dead. And you’ll never guess what, sir. Someone’s taken down their Nazi flag and hoisted the Star of David. They hadn’t noticed till I pointed it out to them. That’s when I had to run.’

  ‘Uncle Charles! Uncle Charles! Thank goodness I’ve found you,’ said Harry. ‘The Germans have invaded Poland.’

  2

  The bad news chilled the sunshine filling the drawing room. Though it was a warm day Sir Charles could feel the piece of Great War shrapnel in his arm. It wasn’t supposed to do that. That party trick it kept for damp days. Marigold doodled, finding consolation in giving words in The Times a three-dimensional look. Harry wandered; stopping at a window he studied the sky, the arena in which he might soon find himself fighting for his life. Which was the better plane? The Spitfire or the Messerschmitt?

  ‘If we honour our treaty with Poland,’ said Harry, looking out of the window, ‘and declare war on Germany, the Hitler Youth will be our enemy. Damn them! Will we declare war on Germany, Uncle Charles?’

  ‘I’ve been on to London. By all accounts Chamberlain and the Cabinet are dithering. They know the fox is in the chicken house but don’t know what to do. A rumour’s going round that Churchill’s been offered a place in the Cabinet. Ah, Bert. Good man.’

  ‘I thought under the circumstances, sir, tea and biscuits. I think you might also like to know, sir, that Mr O’Neil’s off in the taxi I ordered for him.’

  ‘I’d forgotten about him. With his golf bag?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘No news from Emily and Sergeant Belt?’

  ‘They’ve not rang, sir.’

  ‘Perhaps our suspicions were unjustified.’

  ‘Perhaps he has a friend, like Mario,’ said Marigold.

  ‘I doubt it. Does he know Germany has attacked Poland?’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’

  ‘No, sir. If I may make so bold, sir, this morning Mr O’Neil did not wish to be told anything.’

  ‘He will, of course, be followed. Freddy’s men will see to that.’

  ‘The men that keep arriving at the Vicarage, sir?’

  ‘The village drums have been beating, have they?’

  ‘People talk, sir. The traffic between the mystery masts and the Vicarage has been noted.’

  ‘But not understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Lady Elizabeth told me, sir, to tell you she’s taking a Dundee cake to Lord Frederick, but you are not to worry because she will not be delivering the cake in person. Phyllis will take the cake into the hospital. Her Ladyship is of the opinion that a cook taking a cake to a tramp will not arouse suspicions as to who the tramp really is. Her Ladyship explained your thoughts to me on the matter, sir.’

  ‘You think it a sensible precaution?’

  ‘I do, sir.’

  ‘And Jack and George, do we know where they are?’

  ‘No, sir. I suspect they will be in hiding.’

  ‘I am beginning to think my grandson and Jack have stretched the expression “boys will be boys” to breaking point. First they nearly kill Freddy and now it would seem they’ve poisoned the Hitler Youth. Harry, would you mind terribly if I asked you to pop down to the Germans’ campsite and find out what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ll go with you, Harry. I speak German,’ said Marigold.

  ‘In the meantime, Bert and I will hold the fort here. I have a feeling London will be calling. Harry, I don’t wish to sound alarmist but if I was you I’d be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. You might be flying Spitfires in action rather sooner than you thought. Harry …’

  ‘Uncle?’

  ‘It is possible we may be living through the last days of peace – make the most of them.’

  3

  ‘What did you find out, Harry? You look grim. Bert, pour me a large whisky, the same for Harry. Marigold?’

  ‘Whisky, large.’

  ‘I’ve a feeling that what I’m about to hear requires a stiffener. Bert, if you feel the same as I do, help yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Well,’ said Harry, ‘at the last count two of the Hitler Youth are dead and three are in hospital with sickness and diarrhoea. Half a dozen others are hallucinating. I never thought I’d feel sorry for Germans, but I do now.’

  ‘Do they not know mushrooms can be poisonous?’

  ‘One member of the group I spoke to,’ said Marigold, ‘said two boys, I assume they were Jack and George, were cooking mushrooms and bacon on an open fire. He said the smell of the food cooking made everyone hungry. When some of his friends went to say hello, the boys ran away. Apparently there was trouble yesterday. One of the boys fired an arrow at one of the Hitler Youth.’

  ‘Jack and George didn’t give them the mushrooms?’

  ‘No, the Germans helped themselves.’

  ‘George knows which mushrooms to pick and which to leave alone. When he’s here Phyllis has him out foraging for them. He’s been collecting them for the pot for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘Well, whoever did the collecting this time made a mistake,’ said Harry.

  ‘I am sorry for the Hitler Youth,’ said Sir Charles, ‘but I am also relieved that Jack and George did not eat them. I think we owe their lives to Nazi acquisitiveness.’

  ‘You are assuming the boys were going to eat the mushrooms,’ said Marigold. ‘If they’d had trouble with the Nazis why build a camp fire close to the enemies’ camp? Jack detests them.’

  ‘I was thinking the same,’ said Harry. ‘Jack wouldn’t give the Nazis eight half-a-crowns for a pound.’

  ‘Would he give them poison?’

  ‘Bert?’ said Sir Charles.

  ‘Master George knows his mushrooms, sir.’

  ‘Whatever they were cooking or had prepared to cook,’ said Harry, ‘must have been a mixture of the deadly poisonous and what you, Uncle Charles, once told me you call “magic mushrooms”. The ones that make you hallucinate.’

  ‘I remember once, the whole village under their influence,’ said Sir Charles, smiling at the happy memory, ‘including the vicar; all of us looking for fairies under ferns.’

  ‘Some of the hallucinating Nazis, Uncle Charles, are better to watch than Charlie Chaplin. They are giving Nazi salutes to oak trees. One was reading Mein Kampf to a cow.’

  ‘The cheek of the fellow, indoctrinating one of my animals.’

  ‘Others are wandering like lost souls,’ said Marigold.

  ‘Peripatetic Nazis,’ said Sir Charles; ‘if Hitler has his way he’ll soon be sending them all over Europe. They’ll make the
plague look like chicken pox.’

  ‘Charlie, this is serious. The ones who are not sick are convinced Jack and George are responsible for the deaths of their friends. They are in a pretty unforgiving mood. The Star of David flag flying over their campsite made their eyes pop.’

  ‘That’s just the sort of trick Jack would pull. Better than the frog he put in my shoe.’

  ‘Charlie, these young Nazis are angry. I’ve seen at close quarters what they are capable of doing. If they get their hands on Jack and George, anything might happen.’

  ‘Bert, the Webley, is it loaded?’

  ‘It is, sir. I loaded it as soon as I heard Hitler had invaded Poland.’

  ‘If a member of the Hitler Youth lays a finger on them, use it.’

  ‘Charlie, before you start shooting, we have to find them. I think they need protecting. Where might they be?’

  ‘Try what Jack calls his “Erdgeist Lager”. Harry, you know where it is. It used to be your den. Dear Jack thinks he’s the first one to have found the place but he’s wrong. When I was his age it was my den. As a child my father played in it. If you are going hunting you will need weapons. Go to the gun room and help yourselves. If you do have to confront the Hitler Youth, the fact that you are armed may make them think twice. Off you go. Good luck.’

  The phone rang. Bert answered. ‘It’s the Major, sir.’

  ‘CB, how are you?’

  ‘Have you heard the news?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When will the war start?’

  ‘I think the politicians are trying to work something out.’

  ‘There’s nothing to work out. We made the Poles a promise. If the Nazis don’t pack their bags and get out of Poland we go in and chuck them out. And when we do, I want a piece of the action. You will put in a word for me, Charles? Charles, are you still on the line?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why don’t you answer my question? I’ve lost my wife, my daughter has been murdered by the Irish; a war will take my mind off things. Well?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘I hope so. I’ve not mentioned this before but the last horse I sold your Elizabeth, well, I gave her a good discount. What I’m saying is, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Charles, I’m desperate to go into action. What do you want me to do, beg?’