“Will Carey hang?” asked Christine after minutes of silent reflection.
“Do you want her to?”
“Do you...?” She peered questioningly at him with blinking eyes.
Hunloke paused before answering. “I’ve no objection to the death penalty, people know the rules.”
“That’s not what I meant, sir. You did like her, after all.”
“Yes, Christine, I do like her. I seem fatally attracted to unsuitable women... And no, I don’t want her to hang. I can’t condone what she did but who are we to judge her actions? Who knows what the Gestapo and Milice put her through? We can only see the damage to her face; Lord knows what they did to her mentally. She desperately wanted revenge for what she and her lover endured. It’s that bastard Mills who should swing. The sad fact is, unless her SOE past and Mills’ part is revealed to the jury, which it probably won’t, then she probably will.”
“And will he?”
“That’s not for me to decide, Chrissie. I just present the case. And how are you feeling?”
“I really don’t know. I thought I’d feel better after tonight. But I don’t... It’s not as if Brian is suddenly going to come back...” She blinked again as tears enveloped her eyes. “Sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”
“Cry as much as you like, love. It’ll be a sad day when we stop mourning the people who died during this war. What are you going to do when Rod and I are back in London?”
“I really don’t know. I still haven’t told Mum and Dad about the baby.”
“Brian asked me to take care of you, but to be honest, I really don’t know what you want. Perhaps this isn’t the best time, or maybe after the awful day we have all had, it’s the best. Do you want to keep the baby?”
She peered at him with her glistening deep blue eyes. “Yes...”
“I realise you might not think me the most ethical man in the world...”
“You mean sleeping with Poppy?” she interrupted with her old familiar audacity.
“It seems it isn’t much of a secret...” He looked sheepishly away towards the glowing embers in the fireplace.
Christine laughed, a rare treat of late. “Of course, everyone knows. We’re not as clever as you, but we’re not stupid.”
“No, I suppose not... That’s for me to sort out later... Anyway, what I was going to suggest was that you join me in London.”
“Join you...?”
“Yea, I don’t mean hanky-panky wise, I mean as a, oh I don’t know, cook, housekeeper, secretary, whatever you want to call yourself. I’ll have the insurance payout from my old house, plus what I’ve put by. I’ll rent a new place, house or decent flat and you can make it a home for you and the child.”
Chrissie stared hard at the suddenly vulnerable looking police officer, attempting to read his troubled thoughts via his pale blue eyes. “Do you honestly mean you’re prepared to take me and a stranger’s child in? What about Poppy?”
Hunloke had been thinking about the idea on and off since meeting Christine at her parent’s home. Assuming they didn’t kick her out when her pregnancy became all too visible, her parent’s small two-bedroom terrace was no place to raise a child, especially if and when Jimmy returned home. The ATS were unlikely to retain her services when they discovered she was carrying a child. He ignored her question concerning Violet Gray. “Of course I do. It will be sanitising to have a child around again after all the deaths...”
“I’ll think about it...,” smiled Christine, although in her heart of hearts she knew she would accept the offer.
“Excellent! Oh, there is one thing though, Chrissie...”
“What’s that, sir? Sorry, Thaddeus?”
“On Thursday at the funeral, I was going to suggest that we say the child was Brian’s. He was, after all, going to suggest that it was.”
“I haven’t really decided yet...” It was her turn to look awkwardly at the fire.
“Well, all I wanted to make sure of was one thing.”
“Go on...”
“If we stick to the story of the child being Brian’s, well, the baby will be white...?”
One o’clock rang from the longcase clock in the hall. For the first time, he noticed the dust on the glass clock face and wondered who was now going to do the cleaning at Flash House.
He mounted the stairs slowly with only the light from the high clerestory window illuminating his way. His bedroom was in darkness and he gratefully noticed the lump in his bed. He did his best to tiptoe across the floor but was betrayed by a creaking floorboard. A hand shot up and reached for the overhead pull cord.
Poppy blinkingly raised her head from the pillow and stared towards the white-jacketed Hunloke. She sounded sleepy when she spoke. “I didn’t think you were coming up. I thought you might be avoiding me...”
“I’m glad you were asleep, I was worried you might not be able to after today’s shenanigans. And no, I wasn’t avoiding you...” He smiled and slowly began to undress, for once impervious to the chill of the room.
“I always sleep well in your bed. It must be your musty working class stench,” her grin was forced like her attempt at sounding humorous. He tried to dispel the invasive thoughts of how beautiful she always looked when lying in his bed.
“I had a bath tonight,” he stated quietly.
“Then you’ve probably impregnated the sheets.”
“I’m not sure how to take that...”
“Oh, do hurry up and get in, Artie. You really do like the sound of your own voice far too much!”
He pulled back the bed covers and slid in beside her. She felt deliciously warm like a wriggling hot water bottle.
“Have you got bed socks on?” he asked.
“Yes, what of it?”
“Nothing... I was going to ask you if you’re alright but maybe that is starting to sound a little repetitive.”
“Is it all over now...?” she enquired. The tenure of her voice implied that she believed it was.
The room was plunged into darkness when he tugged the overhead pull cord and fidgeted down in the bed where Poppy hugged him tightly. Her insistent grip indicated that not all was well in the world of Lady Violet Gray.
“Rod and I will have to process Carey and Mills tomorrow. Rod wants to be away tomorrow night; it’s his wife’s birthday on Wednesday.”
“Will you be leaving with him?” She already knew the answer.
“I guess so. I can’t see him condoning another night here.”
“I don’t want you to go...,” declared Poppy. Her words bit deeply and he appreciated the enormity of the effort required on her part to make such a statement. He also appreciated the enormity of the proclamation’s consequences. He knew this day would come but even so, the rapidity of the unfolding events had left him ill prepared for the moment.
“You know I have to...”
“Couldn’t you stay just a day or two longer?”
“It’s Brian’s funeral on Thursday. Anyway, we both know I have to leave sooner or later...”
“You make it sound all very contrived.”
“What’s contrived...?”
“Us...”
“And what exactly is ‘us’? You are the former Lady Violet Eason, daughter of the Duke of Brocklingby, now Mrs Edward Gray. I am Thaddeus Clifford Hunloke of East Ham.”
“I love you...,” whispered Poppy. Her lips nuzzled his neck.
“Don’t say that, Poppy...” His sigh lingered longer than his words.
“Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t help.”
“Who? You or me?”
“Either of us. You don’t love me; you’ve only known me a couple of weeks.”
“You didn’t say that about Brian and Christine.”
“That was different...”
“Why?”
“Because... You’re young and lonely...”
“Tell me you don’t love me?” challenged Poppy.
He could feel her body trembling
against his. “I don’t love you...” His whispered response lacked conviction.
“Liar!”
“So what if I did love you? What good would that do? Would it change anything?”
“I could live happier knowing you cared...”
Hunloke’s voice betrayed his emotion. “Of course I care, woman!”
“I’m Poppy, not woman!” she pinched him, extracting a groan. “How much do you love me?” Her voice betrayed her contentment at hearing his understated confession of love.
“Enough never to let you go... You’re married and I won’t come between you and your husband. I’m not that big a bastard. But you haven’t seen the last of me, Lady Violet, nor has this house.”
“She likes you, Artie. She likes having you around.”
“I’m sorry...,” he said quietly.
“For what...?”
“I think Mills will probably write to your husband and father, like he threatened to do. He hasn’t got a lot to lose...”
“I don’t care...,” announced Poppy defiantly.
“Well, you should, I’m sorry...”
“Poppycock, don’t go all remorseful on me, Artie! I’ve no regrets. Meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me!”
“Says the ancient nineteen year old...”
“I’m almost twenty. Anyway, Eddie will never believe the word of Mills against mine and I can handle Daddy. I’m his little girl...”
There followed a reflective silence broken only by the scurrying of a mouse somewhere in the ceiling space above them. At length he spoke. Afraid of his thoughts concerning his immediate prospects, he purposefully changed the direction of the intimate conversation. “When I’m in London, I’ll dig around and find out who this consortium is, the people who want to buy the place from your brother-in-law.”
“You mean it will still be sold?”
Hunloke was reluctant to dispel her illusions as far as the future of Flash House was concerned. “Carey was only a messenger. If William is determined to sell, he will.”
He let her ponder upon his suggestion until she broke the ensuing quietude. “I’m thinking of letting the school make use of the house until the class room is repaired.”
“That’s a great idea, you could get involved, give you something else to do apart from looking after dear old Flash House. Your talents are woefully under used.”
“I’m not sure I can live without you, Hunloke from the Camp, despite what you say, not after... everything that has happened”
“We have a saying in the Army. Never say good bye, say until the next time...”
He stifled any further discourse from Violet Gray with his searching lips.
Thaddeus Hunloke had been asleep for less than one hour when he awoke with a desperate need to visit the bathroom. He untwined himself from Poppy’s arms and slid out the side of the bed. The end of the corridor was in darkness when he halted and grabbed the bedroom door handle after returning from the bathroom.
From the depths of the ethereal darkness that enveloped the distant passageway, he could make out the drifting sound of raucous laughter. The mirthful sound possessed a mocking, eldritch quality and without rancour, he nodded guiltily, so allowing Constance Gray the valedictory final laugh.
The End.
Author’s Note.
Thank you for reading ‘Dancing with Artie’.
The affairs of Thaddeus Hunloke and his relationship with Poppy Gray and Flash House are not concluded.
For details of the novels and additional information, please visit my website at:
http://peteheathmoor862.wix.com/heathmoor
Or you can find me at:
http://www.facebook.com/pete.heathmoor
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Pete Heathmoor.
Bristol.
October 2015.
Table of Contents
Prologue.
Chapter 1 - Chessel Street.
Chapter 2 - The Gorge Hotel.
Chapter 3 - The Red Lion.
Chapter 4 - Camp 876.
Chapter 5 - The Monkey-Puzzle.
Chapter 6 - Günter Grass.
Chapter 7 - Flash Village.
Chapter 8 - The Crossroads.
Chapter 9 - The Escape.
Chapter 10 - Flash Farm.
Chapter 11 - Flash House.
Chapter 12 - An Evening at Flash House.
Chapter 13 – Misty Encounters.
Chapter 14 - Where are they?
Chapter 15 - Confessions.
Chapter 16 - Flash Chapel.
Chapter 17 - Lost Causes.
Chapter 18 - Honeysuckle Cottage.
Chapter 19 - The War Room.
Chapter 20 - The Journal.
Chapter 21 - The Portrait.
Chapter 22 – Methodists in the Madness.
Chapter 23 - The Barley Mow.
Chapter 24 - Unravelling of Yarn.
Chapter 25 - The New Broom.
Chapter 26 - A Clean Pair of Heels.
Chapter 27 - The Gulley.
Chapter 28 - Gathering Forces.
Chapter 29 - The Schoolhouse.
Chapter 30 - All the Little Children.
Chapter 31 - The Reckoning.
Chapter 32 - The Edgar Club.
Chapter 33 - Messages in the Post.
Chapter 34 – Sunday Roasting.
Chapter 35 – The Last Laugh.
Author’s Note.
Dancing with Artie (Thaddeus Hunloke Book 1) Page 39
