by Carl Leckey
Denise and Daisy are skipping ahead of us holding hands. I remark. “Look at them Louise, could anyone be happier? There is only one drawback.” Louise looks concerned until I explain. “I now have two kids to keep entertained.” Daisy runs back to me. I know what she wants. I lift her up and place her on my shoulder she grips my head and says. “Gee up Neddy.” Denise takes my left hand Louise takes my right hand as we trail back to the hotel. How fortunate I am to have my three favourite females in close contact with me. After lunch we part company and head home. The restored house project comes on leaps and bounds after Marcel gives the go ahead. He considers it is a feasible enterprise as long as we stay within the budget he proposes. Marcel insists we rebuild as close as possible to the original building. Thankfully this does include modern conveniences inside. The site is cleared and construction is well in hand as the time for our English trip gets closer. We have absorbed the old family building firm of the Sanguet Brothers into the OSCADA organisation without any problems.
In fact the eldest Brother thanked me profusely for taking them over. Their financial problems are more profound than was first envisaged. Fortunately with Günter’s input into the Company they were quickly resolved. Marcel utilises them to restore the house on the lake.
CHAPTER TWO
The trip to England
Well here I am for the second time in my life on a ferry heading for England, regretfully on my own with my brand new passport in my possession. Denise could not accompany me for two reasons. The house is not completed and Hazel had not returned to France as her ailing Mother still lingers on the edge of death.
We were unable to take Daisy with us as she had no passport and she refuses to remain with anyone but Denise.
The ferries only sail from Le Havre to Portsmouth now they are on peacetime schedules. Harry made the travel arrangements as usual, he arranges for me to use the Calais Dover service. It would be a difficult rail journey entailing many changes of train travelling from Portsmouth to my destination St Margaret’s.
Before leaving he hands me all the documentation I will require for my journey and a bundle of English banknotes which I conceal in my inside pocket without checking the amount. He believes the amount should suffice but if I require more cash he has enclosed bank drafts to be exchanged with certain banks in England. On the day of my departure Paul drives me to the railway station accompanied by my Wife and Daisy. On the platform we have a tearful farewell with promises of keeping in touch daily.
I still haven’t made my mind up on how to approach my Mother. I have not warned her of my intention of travelling to England. I will play it by ear when I arrive. The railway journey to Calais seems to be over in no time.
I have a pleasant crossing on the channel ferry unlike my last trip on the fishing boat from Sandwich. I have only one piece of luggage consisting of a handy holdall. Anything else I need I will purchase. On the ferry in the bar enjoying a pint and sandwich I plan my tactics. First I will book into the pub at St Margaret’s I used on my last visit. Toot has arranged to meet me there. After I sort things out with Mother I will head up North visiting the Colonel on the way. Then it is my intention to call on Sandy at Acton Bridge in Cheshire. From there I will take the train back South for my return to France via Dover. I had given myself about a fortnight to complete all my tasks. Except for missing my Wife and of course Daisy there is no pressure for me to return home within that time.
How simple it all sounded when I outlined my plans to Denise the night before I left France.
It is getting dark when I arrive at the pub in Kent. The bar is crowded with locals playing darts and skittles. Surprisingly the Landlord remembers me and books me into the same room I occupied on my last visit. As Toot is not due to meet me until tomorrow I have a leisurely wash and return to the bar for a meal and a pint or two. I have an idea I recognise one of the locals as he disappears out of the front door. One pint leads to another and another, the evening finishing up with a splendid sing song. About eleven o’clock I stagger up to my room well and truly pissed. I am awoken by sharp raps on the door and an order to open up in the name of the law. Glancing at my pocket watch I see the time is nine am. “What the bloody hell!” I complain as bleary eyed I shuffle to the door and draw back the bolt. Framed in the doorway is a man in civilian clothes and a uniformed police constable. The man in civilian clothes identifies himself as “Detective Constable Bentley, of the Kent Constabulary.” He offers his warrant card for my perusal. “Are you Adam Bailey resident of the country of France?” I reply mystified and still suffering with the results of last night’s booze binge. “Yes of course I am.” He replies.
“In that case I am arresting you on the suspicion of attempted blackmail and extortion.
Anything you say etc, etc.” After cautioning me he instructs. “Get dressed and collect your belongings, you my lad are coming to the station with us. You better pay your tab before we leave, I have an idea you won’t be coming back for a while.”
After settling my bill within twenty minutes of being woken, unwashed and unshaven, without breakfast I am on my way in the back of a black van to Dover. At the police station I am stripped of all valuables and anything I could possible use as a weapon or utilise to commit suicide.
The desk Sergeant whistles admiringly as he counts out the cash in my possession.
Partially stripped and humiliated I am then slammed up in a cell with no further explanation of how or why I have had the charges brought against me. This is despite my pleas of innocence. What seems like hours later a small flap in the door is opened although I am unable to see anyone I have the feeling I am being observed.
I do however hear voices through the door. One is definitely the detective that arrested me the other is a female voice verifying. “That is definitely the man.” More time goes by, a bowl of thick soup a hunk of bread and a cup of strong tea is passed into me by a silent constable.
It is now getting dark outside the barred window. As they have taken my watch I have no idea what time of the day it is now
I am lying on the hard bunk wondering what will happen next when I hear the rattle of keys in the lock. The door is flung open and I am ordered to follow the uniformed constable. He leads me to an interrogation room. Inside is a table with a chair on either side. Seated on the chair opposite where I am located is a man in civilian clothes. The constable leans against the wall by the door. The seated man opens the interrogation by offering me a welcome cigarette and introducing himself as Detective Sergeant Robert Cranshaw.
I accept the cigarette gratefully he lights me up. In front of him is an envelope containing my possessions? My passport and army pay book are lying on the desk.
He picks up my pay book and ruffles through the pages then observes.
“I see from your army records you served in France during the war as an ambulance driver?”
I confirm this to be correct and enlighten him further on about my military career.
“Most of the time I was with the ambulances. I started off in the Labour Corp and was transferred when I volunteered.”
He questions. “And why did you volunteer for ambulances? That was a lousy dangerous job didn’t anyone tell you never volunteer in the Army?”
Angrily I retort. “Well if you really need to know? I was bloody fed up pushing a cart around full of bits of bodies and burying them. I was sick of the stupid buggers that ran the outfit, and I was disgusted because the British Army saw fit to shoot a sixteen year old mate of mine suffering from shellshock. What’s all this about Sergeant?”
Instead of answering my question he reveals. “That was quite a tirade. I was in the military myself. I have some knowledge of how it operates.”
I reply cynically. “That figures. I bet you were a Red Cap?”
Raising his voice he retorts. “I take it from your attitude you didn’t like the MP’s then?”
I respond angrily. “I can’t say I did, most of the ones I met were right shits. L
ook Sergeant what has this to do with anything? I am a civilian now and have been for quite awhile. I don’t give a toss for MP’s anymore. They can all kiss my arse after the bloody useless Generals have had their turn as far as I am concerned.” The constable sniggers. His superior gives him a withering glare. I continue. “Why am I here with these ridiculous charges brought against me? I came to England on personal business. I only arrived the night before.
How could I possibly be guilty of blackmail and whatever else daft bloody things you and your cronies have charged me with?
The ferry tickets are in my jacket pocket proving when I arrived for goodness sake.”
He smiles grimly. “You don’t like authority do you my lad?”
“No! Not a lot. To answer your question I don’t very much care for people that bugger me about, never did and never will.”
He openly laughs at my angry reply. “It’s not what you have done since you arrived over here Sunny Jim. It’s the threats you made before you showed your face in my territory I am dealing with now.”
“What bloody threats? Are you mad? Who says I have been threatening them? Who was that woman I heard outside the cell?”
He opens a folder in front of him without answering my question. “Alright the preliminaries are over now let us get down to business.” He pushes some sheets of writing paper towards me. “Are these letters written in your hand and is that your signature on the bottom?”
Appalled because he is in possession of my personal correspondence I try to explain.
“Yes but they harbour no threats or demands, they were written to my friend for my Mothers eyes only. How have you got your hands on them? That is why I am over here to see her and sort things out. There has been a big misunderstanding here Sergeant I can assure you. I meant nobody any harm.”
He enquires. “Your Mother you say? And who pray is your Mother?”
Anger inflames my answer. “Lady Angelique of course, you can see that if you read the letters. Let me contact her right now you will see I am innocent.”
He thinks for a moment then remarks. “You say she will verify you are her Son? I know Lady Angelique and to my knowledge she has never been married and certainly has no children. Why didn’t you write to her directly, why all the subterfuge? Come on lad you will have to do better than this. It is her that has accused you of the charges you are being held on.”
Shocked I reply. “She accused me you say? I can’t believe she would do such a thing?”
He answers hesitantly. “Well for your information it wasn’t exactly her it was Lady Emily her Sister who accuses you of the crimes stated.”
The crafty bugger! I see he was using a ploy to instigate a reaction from me.
At last light begins to dawn. “Ha! That explains it. Tell me Sergeant? How did you know I was in England? I never let anyone know I was coming here except my old army mate. I guarantee he wouldn’t tell anyone about my business.”
The Sergeant replies. “I don’t know why I am telling you this, but you were spotted in the pub by one of the estate staff. He reported you were in the locality. He most probably did so in a quite innocent manner. We had a telephone call last night.”
The Sergeant addresses the Constable. “Something puzzles me here Fred if these here threats were made some time ago? Looking at the dates on the letters they were. Why have we only been notified just now? Do you know why Fred? You were involved in it with Bentley.”
The Constable remarks with a shrug of his shoulders. “You know me? I just do as I’m told Bob. Always obey orders without question. Three years in the army taught me that.”
The Sergeant snorts with laughter. “Ha! That’s a joke. That’s why you are still a Constable at your age you daft bugger.” The Sergeant turns to me. “Look lad this doesn’t appear as cut and dried as it first seemed. I suggest you get yourself a brief.”
I detect a change in his attitude he is unsure of his ground and appears a great deal more sympathetic towards me.
“Get myself a what?” I enquire. He smiles and explains. “You need a solicitor lad. Despite your opinion about MP’s I can assure you, you have met an exception to the rule.
I was in the civvie police before my service and I do my duty and uphold the law.
Incidentally I am aware of the reputation the MP’s had over there. We were not all tarred with the same brush. I am also aware of how much we owe the lads that served in the front line ambulances.”
I push my luck a little further. “Sergeant you say you had a telephone call? Was that directly from Lady Angelique’s estate? I ask you this because when I was here before they didn’t have a telephone installed.” The Constable intercedes. “I can answer that Bob. It was from the estate I took the call myself they have had a telephone in the manor house for a while.”
Excitedly I request. “Sergeant I think I can clear this mess up. I don’t need a brief. May I have your permission to telephone Lady Angelique? It is essential I speak to her and not Lady Emily?” He answers thoughtfully. “No lad I can’t do that. You might threaten her again.”
I plead. “Sergeant, be reasonable? I promise you I have never threatened her. Or anyone else as a matter of fact.”
I have a flash of inspiration. “I know! You can listen in. If I do threaten her you will have hard evidence against me.”
Hesitantly he answers. “I would sooner not do that lad. You are up before the Magistrate in the morning. Despite what you say you do need a brief. I will contact a good local man for you if you want me to? I can have him here within an hour. Get him to ask for bail when you are up before the Beak. I promise you I won’t oppose it. That will give you the opportunity to sort things out face to face with your Mother. You will be surprised to know, I also have had dealings with Lady Emily. She can, to put it mildly be a difficult Lady. I could imagine her instigating these proceedings without consulting Lady Angelique.
Let’s hope for your sake my boy you are able to clear this matter up before it goes much further.” Reluctantly I make a request. “I’ll take your advice Sergeant, will you contact that solicitor for me I can afford to pay.”
He replies. “Yes the money. As a matter of fact I was getting around to that. You have a great deal of cash in your possession. Where did you get it from?”
Indignantly I answer. “I don’t see that is any of your business Sergeant. But for your information I am over here in the UK for at least a fortnight. I will be travelling about a lot. The money is to cover my expenses.” Angrily I add. “Is it your practice to question every business man about his finance? Do you stop them in the street and search them to see how much money they have on them? This is bloody stupid. Nobody asked me why I had no money and how I was managing when I got demobbed and had bugger all cash to my name.”
He doesn’t answer my question instead he remarks. “You must be travelling in style? You have more cash than this chap earns in a year.” He points at the Constable.
I reply sarcastically. “Maybe he should go for promotion to Sergeant? I have heard they are paid well for buggering people about.” He reacts with a wry smile. He warns. “Don’t push your luck lad.” I continue explaining. “Whether you believe it or not I have no idea how much money I am carrying. All I know is my financial director arranged everything. He handed me my tickets and a sum of money before I left on my trip.” The Sergeant looks at my passport. “Twenty odd years old and you have a financial director? Pull the other one. Come on lad I have been fair with you, tell me the truth. You may as well get it off your chest.” Frustrated I retort.
“What time is it Sergeant?”
“Five o’clock.” He replies after studying his pocket watch.
“Can I have my wallet for a moment I need some information from it.” He questions. “What information?”
“There are a couple of telephone numbers in France you may ring if you hurry. They will confirm who I am and where the money came from.” Hesitantly he replies. “No I don’t think so sunshine
. We don’t telephone France from here, it is not done.” Another door closed I try another tack. “Sergeant I have my own business I own about thirty trucks. I have a large house over there and I employ sixty or more people. Why shouldn’t I carry as much money as I want?”
He answers. “It seems highly unlikely a fellow of your age could own a company such as you describe. Not so long ago you were a private in the army. What do you think Fred?”
The Sergeant consults his comrade. Fred laughs. “It could be true Sarg, maybe he saved his pennies I heard those Tommie’s were grossly overpaid for just risking their fool necks for King and country.” I feel myself getting really angry and it must have showed. The Sergeant says. “Take no notice of Fred lad. He was in the thick of it at Ypres. He’s a bit cynical is our Fred. That’s the reason we are inclined to give you the benefit of doubt lad because of your army service.”
