Wedding Rows

by Kate Kingsbury

  “But you saw the Jeep go into the woods. That’s miles from the old windmill.”

  “A Jeep can go miles, silly, can’t it?”

  Polly’s stomach quivered. “What if you did find them there? They’d get you, too.”

  “Not if they didn’t see me. Once I knew they were there I’d go back and get the bobbies, wouldn’t I. I’m not daft.”

  “You’re not going alone, are you?”

  Sadie smiled. “Think about it. All those women tramping about in groups, talking and carrying on? That lot never did know how to keep quiet. Of course they didn’t find no one. They heard them coming, didn’t they. Now if there’s only one person out there…” She looked hopefully at Polly. “Or maybe two.”

  Polly’s stomach took a nosedive. “If you think I’m going with you out there you can blinking think again. I hate going out in a thunderstorm.”

  “It’ll be over in a little while. We can go when it moves off.”

  “It’s dangerous out there with them musketeers running around kidnapping everyone. I’m going home. Where it’s safe.” She pushed her bicycle past Sadie and swung her leg across the saddle.

  “Nellie would be out looking for you if you was missing,” Sadie called out after her.

  No she wouldn’t, Polly thought fiercely. Nellie was only interested in meeting GIs. She pedaled furiously down the drive in the rain, more angry at herself than at anyone else. The truth was, she felt ashamed of being such a sissy. Sadie was going to be out there all by herself. What if something happened to her? Polly caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It would be all her fault. She’d never forgive herself.

  Polly let the bicycle freewheel while she fought her conscience. It was no good. She couldn’t let Sadie go out there on her own. She’d worry herself sick about her. Although the fluttering in her stomach got worse at the thought of what she was about to do, she deliberately swung the front wheel of her bicycle around and pedaled slowly back to the manor.

  CHAPTER 12

  Nellie broke off a piece of the pork pie she was holding and held it out to Florrie. “Here, eat this. You’ll feel better.”

  Florrie shook her head, her arms hugging her stomach. “I couldn’t eat a thing. If I do I’ll bring my breakfast up. I don’t know how you can eat anything with death staring us in the face.” Her lips trembled and silent tears rolled down her ashen face.

  Nellie shoved the piece of pork pie in her mouth and chewed with relish. “If you were as hungry as I am you’d eat it,” she said when she’d swallowed it down. “I haven’t eaten anything since supper last night. And I ate that early because of Rita’s stupid invasion watch. If it hadn’t been for her and her bloody Germans we wouldn’t be here now.”

  Florrie moaned. “She’ll be so devastated to have our deaths on her conscience.”

  Nellie opened a bottle of lemonade and offered it to Florrie, who shook her head with a shudder. “We’re not going to die, silly. They’re just a bunch of soppy schoolkids. They’re not going to kill us.”

  Florrie stared at her. “I thought they was the musketeers.”

  Nellie laughed. “Don’t let the musketeers hear you say that. They’d be really insulted.”

  “But they kidnapped us.”

  “Yeah, ’cos they didn’t know what else to do. They got in a panic, that’s all.”

  “They’re not going to just let us go.”

  “I think they will once they do what they came to do.”

  Florrie looked really scared. “And what’s that?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is they want to get on the base. I said I’d help them if they brought me something to eat and drink.”

  “You’re not going to help them, are you!?”

  Nellie almost laughed at Florrie’s shocked expression. “Nah, silly. I’m just going to pretend to help them. I’ll tell them how to get onto the base without being seen, but I’ll really be sending them right into the arms of the MPs.”

  “How’re you going to do that?”

  Nellie swallowed more pork pie. “I haven’t exactly worked that out yet.”

  Florrie looked fearfully over the ledge. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

  Nellie shrugged. “Don’t know. I just hope they stay away until I’ve come up with a good plan. They’re really stupid; It shouldn’t be hard to get them caught.”

  “They were clever enough to steal two Jeeps from under the noses of the Americans,” Florrie reminded her.

  “Yeah, I don’t know how they did that. Someone must have left them outside the base.” Nellie tipped the lemonade bottle to her lips and took several gulps. “They were stupid enough to go off and leave us alone up here, though, weren’t they.”

  “They know we can’t jump down there.” Florrie pointed to the ground below. “We’d break our necks.”

  “Per’aps.” Nellie finished the pork pie, then brushed the crumbs from her fingers. She got to her feet, wincing as her muscles reminded her of the hours she’d spent lying on the hard floor.

  She studied the drop below. It had to be at least twenty feet. Maybe she could lower Florrie closer to the ground. Nah. Even if she hung by her feet, which would be quite a trick, and held Florrie’s hands, there’d still be too much of a drop.

  There wasn’t even a rope or anything to use to climb down. She’d searched every inch of the loft. No, the boys knew what they were doing when they’d made them climb up there. She’d just have to find another way to outwit them.

  “I wonder if they’re still looking for you,” Florrie said. “I bet they don’t even know I’m missing.”

  “They must know by now.” Nellie could tell by the way the sunlight crept down the cracks in the walls that it was late afternoon. “I wish I had a watch. I hate not knowing what time it is.”

  “Well, it’s not going to make any difference to us soon, is it.”

  Nellie’s patience finally gave out. “Shut up whining, Florrie! They’re not going to kill us, so there. The worst they’ll do is leave us here to rot after they’ve done what they came to do on the base.”

  Just as she said it a crackle of thunder made them both jump.

  Florrie uttered a little shriek. “Oh, my, oh, my!”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let that happen,” Nellie said firmly. “I’ll find a way to get us out of here. Just let me think about it for a while.” She sat down, trying not to let on how scared she felt inside. Right then she couldn’t see any way to escape. Even if she could come up with a plan to get the boys caught, there was no guarantee it would work. Or even if it did, there was no way of knowing if the boys would let on about where she and Florrie were. Things weren’t looking too bright at all.

  It wasn’t until late that evening that Elizabeth remembered the proofs still tucked into her handbag. She’d meant to leave them at Priscilla’s flat with Fiona, but the news of Florrie’s disappearance had thrust it from her mind.

  Annoyed with herself for her befuddled state of late, she took out the photographs and eagerly looked through them. She found what she was looking for almost at once. A shot of her and Earl, standing side by side, toasting each other with glasses of champagne in their hands.

  They were smiling at each other, a private moment that had been caught by Dickie Muggins’s shrewd eyes and recorded for posterity. Feeling more than a little guilty, Elizabeth slipped the proof into her desk drawer. Priscilla would not miss that one, she reassured herself. Neither she nor Wally were in the picture.

  Quickly she thumbed through the rest of them. Both she and Earl were in several of the candid shots of the guests, but at a distance, and not noticeable at all. Perhaps later on she would ask Dickie to print an enlargement from the proof she’d kept, and she would have it framed as a gift for Earl.

  She studied a picture of guests, helping themselves to food from the long table with the wedding cake in the background. There was Malcolm and Fiona, laughing together, and on the other side of the table was Rodney s
aying something in his wife’s ear. Daphne didn’t appear too happy with what he had to say. A fierce frown marred her face, and her hunched shoulders suggested she was agitated about something. Remembering Rodney’s mention of Daphne’s headache that evening, she wondered again if they’d been arguing.

  The finished photographs would look so much better than the proofs. The dull finish would be brighter, and the faces so much more distinct. Absently she brushed at the picture with her thumb. The white specks she’d noticed on Rodney’s shoulder didn’t budge. Apparently they were embedded in the print.

  She thought again about the conversation she’d had with the Winterhalters later that evening. Remembering something else that had been said, she studied Daphne’s face more closely. The woman did look rather agitated. Of course. Now she knew what it was that had been bothering her all along.

  She glanced up at the clock. Violet had told her the Winterhalters were in the library playing cards. She got up and hurried out to the landing. The door of the Winterhalters’ room was a little way down on the left. Reaching it, she tapped lightly on the door.

  After waiting a moment or two, she tapped again, louder this time, just in case Daphne was taking a nap. When still no one answered her, Elizabeth carefully opened the door and peeked inside. To her relief the room was empty.

  It took her only a moment to reach the wardrobe and open it. The suit that Rodney had worn to the wedding hung next to his wife’s bridesmaid gown. Quickly Elizabeth examined the suit. The shoulders were clean.

  Frowning, she examined the floor of the wardrobe. Not even a speck of dust. Sadie did her job well. She must remember to praise the girl. Disappointed, she rose to her feet. She was about to close the wardrobe door when an idea occurred to her.

  She bent her knees once more and reached for a leg of Rodney’s trousers. Folding back the turnup, she found what she was looking for-tiny specks of colored confetti. The confetti that supposedly had been missing until after the Winterhalters had left the village hall. The same confetti that had been sprinkled all over Brian Sutcliffe’s body.

  “Why are we going out so late?” Polly asked nervously. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

  Pedaling alongside her on the coast road, Sadie took a hand off a handlebar to push her hair out of her eyes. “You wanted to make sure the storm was over, didn’t you? Besides, we’re going to need the dark to sneak in and rescue the girls.”

  “That’s if we find them.” Polly chewed her bottom lip. The closer they got to the windmill, the less she wanted to be there. She hoped Sadie knew what she was doing. “What if the bobbies have already searched the windmill and found no one there?”

  “Then we look somewhere else. It’s just a first place to start looking.”

  “But if it’s dark, how are we going to see them without lights?”

  “I brought a torch with me, didn’t I.”

  “But-”

  Sadie twisted her head to look at her. “Polly, if you’re having second thoughts about this then you’d better go home. I don’t need to be worried about you as well as the musketeers.”

  Polly swallowed hard. “I’m not having second thoughts. I just want to know what to expect, that’s all.”

  “If I knew that we’d have nothing to worry about,” Sadie said grimly. “Just be prepared for anything.”

  That did nothing to calm Polly’s fears. Her stomach was churning like a keg of butter by the time they reached the turn. The sun had just about disappeared behind the trees, but she could see the top of the windmill sticking up on the hill. “What if they see us coming?”

  “They won’t know we’re looking for them, will they.” Sadie swung into the lane. “Besides, if they do, they’ll come to us and we won’t have to go looking for them.”

  Polly uttered a squeak of fright. “Then they’ll capture us, too!”

  “Not if I attack them with this.” Sadie pointed to the heavy torch in the basket hooked on the front of her bicycle. “I’ll bash them on the head with it.”

  Polly stopped pedaling. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

  “Kick ’em where it hurts.” Sadie drew away from her, pedaling even faster. “Hit ’em with a stick. Between us we should be able to beat them off.”

  Polly gulped. Now she was really scared. She wished she hadn’t eaten bangers and mash for supper. They weren’t sitting well in her stomach.

  “Come on!” Sadie waved at her and drew even farther away.

  Sending up a silent prayer, Polly pedaled furiously to catch up. It was hard to do while they were going uphill, and Sadie reached the clearing to the windmill a while before Polly came to a halt.

  “I’m going over there,” Sadie said quietly, as Polly leaned her bicycle against a tree. “I can’t see any movement, but they could be lying low. You stay here and wait for my signal. Find a big stick, and if you hear a rumpus you come running, all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right,” Polly said, and crossed her knees. “I’ve got to piddle.”

  “Well, go behind a tree. There’s no one to see you, is there.”

  “All right,” Polly muttered, still feeling anything but. She watched her friend creep around the edge of the clearing. When Sadie was at the back of the windmill she gave Polly a final wave then crept forward until she disappeared from view.

  Polly searched around for a big stick, wondering how on earth she’d ended up in this dangerous situation. They should have asked George if he’d looked in the windmill. She’d told Sadie that, but Sadie had insisted they do it themselves. George would only muck it up, she’d said. Right then, Polly wasn’t sure she and Sadie would do any better.

  She picked up a likely looking stick and tested it against the palm of her hand. It snapped with a loud crack and she jumped a foot in the air. If anyone was going to muck things up, she thought mournfully, it was going to be her and Sadie. She should never have agreed to come with her. She should have gone and told Lady Elizabeth what Sadie was going to do. She would have known how to stop her.

  She discarded the broken stick and looked for another one. After a while she found a short, thick branch that had broken off of a beech tree. This one seemed more sturdy. Grasping it in her hand, she crept back to her lookout spot.

  Her stomach flipped over when she saw Sadie in the entrance to the windmill, staring in her direction and jumping up and down waving her arms. Without stopping to think, Polly charged forward, brandishing the branch above her head and yelling, “Let go of her, you rotten buggers!”

  She was almost up to her friend when it occurred to her that Sadie was alone and not struggling with the musketeers as she’d imagined. Feeling really stupid, she lowered her arm and slowed her pace.

  “What’d you do that for?” Polly demanded, as she came up to the door.

  “For God’s sake shut up!” Sadie shoved her finger on Polly’s lips. “They’ll hear you a mile away! I’m going up top to have a look around. You wait here. If you hear me yell, come running.”

  Polly nodded, shivering with fright. The rickety steps up to the top of the windmill were broken and even missing in places. The thought of rushing up there scared her to death. She’d rather face ten musketeers than go up those steps.

  She watched Sadie climb up slowly, testing each step before she trod on it. Polly held her breath and wondered how on earth she would catch Sadie if she fell. The buxom housemaid was twice her weight.

  The steps creaked and cracked like gunshots going off, and Polly jumped with each one. Sadie, however, showed no fear and climbed purposefully on until she was out of sight. Polly hung grimly onto the stick and prayed she wouldn’t have to use it.

  All the excitement had brought back the urge to piddle. She should have gone behind the tree when she had the chance, like Sadie said. She’d forgotten about it while she was searching for the stick, but now she really needed to go.

  She hopped around from one foot to the other, willing Sadie to come down before she wet her drawers. She
thought about calling up to her friend, but if the musketeers were lurking around somewhere they might hear her and come running. They could overpower her long before Sadie got down from the steps.

  Finally she could hold it no longer. She looked around, but the thought of what her mother would say if she knew she’d piddled on the windmill floor drove her outside. She had to sprint right across the clearing to reach the trees. Even then, she couldn’t find one big enough to hide her if someone was in the windmill looking out at her.

  Stumbling along at a crossed-legged run, she plunged deeper into the woods, where the tree trunks were wider and thick tangled blackberry bushes grew underneath them. At last she spotted the perfect place and squatted down between a withered old oak tree and a bunch of flowery ferns.

  The relief of finally letting go made her forget everything else for the moment. It was so peaceful there in the woods. The blackbirds were singing their evening song, and the wind in the branches above her head sounded like the sea. Right in front of her, blue and yellow wildflowers grew in dense clumps. She should take some home to Ma, she thought. Her mother loved flowers.

  Polly was about to gather some when she caught sight of the stick she’d dropped in her haste to get behind the bushes. Sadie. Crikey. What if she was calling for help?

  With a surge of guilt, she snatched up the stick and galloped back through the trees to the clearing. Caution made her pause at the edge of the woods, and she stared hard at the tall wooden structure of the windmill.

  There was no movement, no sound. She might as well be all alone out there. It was getting dark. She could barely make out the doorway now. The fear rushed back, and she raced for the windmill and tumbled inside.

  It was even darker in there, and it took her a moment to adjust her eyes. There was no sign of Sadie. Polly tilted her head to listen. She couldn’t hear a bloomin’ thing. No creaks to tell her Sadie was coming back down the steps. What the flipping heck was taking her so long?

  She waited a few more minutes, her concern growing into full-fledged panic. Something was wrong. Sadie should have been back down ages ago. There was nothing for it; she’d have to go up there and look for her.