by Anna Jacobs
‘His connection with the Latimers is very tenuous and Constance Berrens is as clever as he is about keeping things secret. Even if he is with her, it won’t be immediately obvious, I’m sure, and she’s had the same servants for decades so can rely on them absolutely to keep quiet about a visitor. The pressing problem is, assuming Georgie and her friend arrive here today, we don’t have enough room to put all five of them up and yet they need somewhere safe to stay. I wondered … Are you still keeping an eye on the old house next door to us?’
‘Orchard View? Yes. The man who inherited it before the war has been wanting to sell it for a while, but no one is interested in buying. It’s in a terrible condition, needs decorating and bringing into the twentieth century.’
‘Don’t I remember that it’s still got some of the original furniture?’
‘Yes. But what’s left is old and half of it’s broken. The new owner took away anything decent.’
‘Beds?’
‘Yes. But the mattresses will need a good airing, Tez. They’ve been lying around for several years.’
‘How about we let those three stay there? They could do some cleaning and even perhaps a bit of whitewashing, and we’ll tell people in the village that you’ve hired them to brighten the place up so that it’ll sell. We’ll also hint that they’re ex-soldiers and short of money.’
Silence, then, ‘Actually, that’s a good idea. I’ve been meaning to get round to brightening the place but I’ve been rather busy lately, I’m glad to say. I’ll come over with the keys. You’ll need some bedding and towels. What do these people look like? Could we say they’re brothers and sister?’
‘I doubt it. They’re all three very different in appearance.’
‘Then the woman will have to pretend to be married to one of them, and the two men can be mates who got through the war together. We don’t want to start any rumours of immorality.’
‘Good idea, Nathan. You have a fertile imagination.’
He chuckled. ‘I have to have when I show people houses that are for sale and want to persuade them that they could live there with a few minor adjustments. Most people can’t see how to rearrange a residence.’
‘You’re still enjoying selling houses better than accounting?’
‘Much more. And it’s going to be a lot more profitable now the war has ended. My family firm is getting back on its feet after the mess my father made of things, so I’m leaving the accounting side of things to my chief clerk and those he hires. Mr Parkin loves fiddling with figures.’
‘And how’s Kathleen?’
‘She’s well and so are the children. Look, I’ve got a house to look at shortly, Tez, and it’s halfway to Honeyfield from Malmesbury. How about I carry on afterwards and bring you the keys to next door? I’ll feel better if I see the people who are going to stay there myself, then I can tell the owner I’ve found some ex-soldiers who’ll do some of the work in return for their keep and a small payment.’
‘I can pay for their food, if necessary.’
‘The new owner can afford to pay them for their work, then they can buy their own food. He’s not short of a bob or two but he lives too far away to make arrangements himself, even if he was interested, which he isn’t. He’ll do what I suggest, believe me. Especially if he thinks he’ll be able to sell it at last. So many civilian things are going to get going properly now.’
‘Good. That’s settled, then.’
Tez went back to join the others and explained what he’d arranged. All three visitors brightened visibly. Then he and Bella left the three of them on their own to decide who was going to pretend to be married to Rosie.
As Bella was getting ready to go shopping, Tez said, ‘Why not drop the word that it’s some of my former men from the Army who are going on this job for me? No one will be surprised at their presence then.’
Tez kept an eye on the baby while Bella went off to buy some extra food to cater for their visitors. Other men rarely seemed to play with their children when they were this small, but he loved being with Philip, loved to feel the child’s soft little arms go round his neck.
He was enjoying himself so much that it seemed no time at all till Bella returned with the food.
Once the three of them were alone, Rosie stared down at her clasped hands, forcing herself to keep them still in her lap, trying not to betray how embarrassed she felt.
She couldn’t help jerking in surprise when Dennis asked quietly, ‘Who do you want to pretend to be married to, Rosie?’
‘I don’t want to pretend to be married to anyone,’ she muttered.
‘We have to or we’ll not seem respectable.’
‘It won’t be respectable, anyway, if it’s only pretend.’
‘No one else in the village will know that and you can trust us not to take advantage of the situation, can’t she?’
Martin shrugged and looked embarrassed. ‘It’s only fair to warn you, though, Rosie, that I snore, so if we have to share a bed, I won’t have to touch you to keep you awake.’
She chuckled, relaxing a little. ‘I heard you in the car. You could win a prize for snoring.’
‘I’m a quiet sleeper mostly,’ Dennis said, ‘and I’m a light sleeper too. I’ll wake if anyone comes prowling round the house, believe me.’ He waited, then prompted, ‘All right to pretend to be Mrs Petley?’
‘Yes, all right.’ She hoped she hadn’t betrayed the fact that she thought Dennis was a very nice man and half-wished this was real and she was indeed his wife. At other times, she’d have tried to encourage him to come courting, but things were in such a mess in all their lives at the moment, she didn’t know whether she was coming or going. She certainly hadn’t expected to be gallivanting all over the countryside with two strange men. Her mam would throw a fit when she found out.
‘We’ll make sure we have separate beds,’ Dennis said.
It was as if he’d read her mind. ‘Yes.’ She sought desperately for something to change the subject. ‘Um, I’ve never been out of London before. I don’t know how they do things in the country.’
‘They’ll expect strangers to ask questions, anyway, so we needn’t be afraid to ask for information or help.’ He walked across to stare out of the window. ‘I’m not used to sitting around idle but we’d better not show ourselves in the village till we’ve been given permission to move in next door.’
The minutes seemed to tick past slowly and after a while, he went to sit down, trying not to fidget openly.
This made Rosie smile, because he failed completely. First his foot twitched in time to some imaginary drumbeat, then he tapped his fingers one by one on the chair arm till he realised what he was doing and quickly flattened his hand.
Eventually they heard the sound of a motor car and Dennis was up in a flash and back at the window. ‘It’s a chap who’s a bit older than us, but not old. Got a fine big nose on him, he has.’
Footsteps moved along the hall and Tez’s voice rang out. ‘Come in, Nathan. I’m glad to see you.’
‘It must be the man about the house next door,’ Martin said unnecessarily.
‘He’s got a nice smile,’ Rosie said. ‘I always judge people by their smiles. And the nose might be big—’
‘It is big.’
‘Yes, but it suits him. He looks like a friendly eagle. I’ve seen pictures of eagles in library books, always liked the noble look of them.’
She couldn’t help glancing sideways as she said that. Dennis had a nice smile, too – a very nice smile – and the scar didn’t worry her, or the lack of two fingers.
Gerald Cotterell was coldly furious when the man he’d gone to meet after dark for news of his daughter confessed that she hadn’t been seen for two days.
‘How can you possibly have lost her, Jordan? I thought we’d agreed that you’d keep her in the London house with a guard posted there.’
‘I tried. But it takes time to summon suitable people to do that, and I haven’t got your authority to move men from
elsewhere at the drop of a hat. I thought three ex-servicemen would be able to hold the fort for a day or so, with Mathers being there as well.’
The older man’s voice was burred with scorn. ‘One man who met her in the street and two complete strangers!’
‘I did check out Farrell’s details with his regiment, sir, because I know one of the officers. He was highly thought of and if it hadn’t been for the severity of his leg injury, he’d probably have ended up as a regular junior officer in peacetime.’
‘Well, he wasn’t good enough to keep her safely under guard in her own house, was he? And what she was thinking of, to go down to Westcott after all that trouble blew up, I cannot understand. As if they wouldn’t know where to look for her when they realised she’d gone. Mathers will answer to me for that.’
‘He’s still there, keeping an eye on the house, sir.’
‘He’d better be. I shall be speaking to him myself about this.’
There was silence for a few moments, then Cotterell shook his head, muttered something to himself and snapped, ‘Now that you know how to contact me, send me a message to let me know the minute there’s news about my daughter. If they tried to use her to blackmail me, I couldn’t protect her, because my country would have to come first.’
He glared at Jordan. ‘Damned well go out and look for her yourself, if necessary, then keep her safe if you have to tie her down. But don’t reveal what you’re doing to anyone, not even people at the bureau.’
‘Yes, sir.’
But he was talking to himself. After Cotterell had delivered his ultimatum, he’d slipped away without a word.
Jordan stared in vain into the darkness for signs of where Cotterell had gone, then pulled his scarf more tightly round his neck so that his face was concealed and strode back home through the dark streets. It was easier fighting openly in the trenches than chasing shadows and mirages as they were doing at the moment. Why did these Siebenzeit sympathisers always seem to know what they were doing?
If he didn’t find Georgie, he would never redeem himself in her father’s eyes, and such was Cotterell’s power, that his hoped-for peacetime career might be blighted before it started.
But if she was as clever as her father said, she might not even be at Westcott, and if so, it’d be hard to find out where she’d gone.
He should have stayed at the house himself to keep an eye on her. But how could he have done that without certain people at the bureau finding out, especially when he’d had an unexpected summons to a meeting, with instructions that he was expected to attend in person – underlined.
He stopped suddenly as the thought of who had sent that particular message sank in.
Oh, hell. Was it possible? It could be. Only, how on earth could he prove anything? He didn’t have the authority to obtain some of the necessary information.
He heard the whisper of footsteps behind him in time to flatten himself against the wall and face his opponent.
But the man had a knife already raised and jabbed at him with it so suddenly, he sliced one arm.
Before he could do anything, someone yelled from across the street and his assailant ran off, leaving Jordan to grab his arm and pray that the knife hadn’t sliced into an artery. He assured his shocked rescuer that he’d be all right. Yes, really. He had to argue about going to hospital and in the end allowed the person to call a taxi to take him there.
Once they were under way, he gave the driver directions to another place whose address he’d been given for emergencies if injured. There a doctor was summoned to deal with the knife slash and while Jordan waited, he made his report to the man in charge, who was sitting behind a screen.
What next? Jordan wondered wearily, as the doctor lectured him about resting that arm.
What the hell next? Talk about secrets within secrets.
Chapter Fifteen
Patrick drove along the lane leading from the farm and stopped at the main road. ‘You’re sure we’ll be able to take refuge with your friend Bella?’
‘Yes. Either with her or at Honeyfield House, which is nearby.’
‘Then I’ll head towards Malmesbury. I found out which direction that’s in from Eddie yesterday. I don’t think he realised we wanted to go there, at least I hope he didn’t. He wouldn’t give us away voluntarily, I’m sure, but some people know how to question a man in such a way that he doesn’t realise what he’s revealed.’
She smiled and drew an answering smile from him by saying, ‘Which is what you did with him, right? Anyway, once we get to Malmesbury, I can direct you to Honeyfield.’
It was a chilly morning, but even if it had been sunny, they’d have kept the hood of the car up. Both were wearing their scarves in a way that partially obscured their faces as well as helping keep them warm.
At Malmesbury she started giving directions, but as they were leaving the outskirts of the town, a child ran out right in front of the car. Patrick braked immediately but couldn’t stop in time and the front bumper caught the little girl and sent her flying.
Georgie was out of the car as soon as it stopped. She bent over the child, who was unconscious, and to her relief found that she was breathing steadily and there was no sign of bleeding. ‘She’s alive.’
‘Thank goodness!’ Patrick looked round. ‘There’s a cottage over there. I’ll see if I can get help. They may know who she is.’
He was back in a couple of minutes, followed by a woman in a wrap-around pinafore, who was still wiping her hands on a cloth fastened to her waistband.
She let out an incoherent cry and ran towards the child, calling, ‘Dodie! Dodie, love!’
‘Don’t move her!’ Georgie ordered sharply. ‘We need to check that she hasn’t broken a limb.’
The woman gulped but contented herself with brushing the child’s hair gently back from her face. ‘She must have sneaked out to watch for cars going past, which she knows she isn’t allowed to do. Eh, she’s been in a naughty mood ever since she got up today. Whatever will she do next?’
‘I’m so sorry. She ran straight out in front of our car and there was nothing we could do to avoid her,’ Georgie said. ‘Is that her name, Dodie?’
‘Yes. Short for Dorothy.’
The child stirred just then and moaned.
The woman clapped one hand to her mouth and stared at them with tears in her eyes. ‘Is she going to be all right?’
Georgie put out her arm to stop the mother moving the child. ‘I think so. Let’s check a couple of things. Dodie, can you move your arms?’ She’d been taught to do that on a first-aid course she’d had to take before she started driving the convalescent officers around London.
‘Mammy!’ wailed the child suddenly and waved both arms around without any sign that they hurt.
‘Her arms are definitely all right,’ Georgie whispered, then raised her voice. ‘Dodie, can you move your legs?’
The child ignored her, staring at her mother and holding out her arms to be picked up.
Georgie whispered, ‘Get her to move her legs.’ The woman moved forward to hold the child’s hands.
‘Dodie, love, can you move your legs?’
In answer the child used her legs to push herself closer and cuddle against her kneeling mother.
‘She’s not broken a limb, then, thank goodness,’ Georgie said.
‘Shall I carry her into the house for you?’ Patrick asked. ‘You can talk to her as we walk.’
‘I’ll move the car to the side of the road and switch off the engine.’ Georgie noticed that the mother looked at her in surprise as she said this.
She was glad the child wasn’t badly hurt. She’d be glad to be away from severely injured men for the rest of her life now that the carnage had stopped. She desperately wanted to build a new life now, one in which her father didn’t keep trying to wrap her in cotton wool.
Unfortunately, it seemed he’d had good reason. Surely that would stop now the war was over?
On that thought she looked ro
und, relieved that no other car was in sight. She watched as Patrick carried the child into the house. He was limping only slightly today, so the new pad in his shoe must be helping.
She got into the driving seat and moved the car on to the verge, glad the engine was still running, so she didn’t have to waste her energy crank-starting it. Better get it out of sight as soon as possible.
Only after another glance along the road did she go inside to join them.
‘You’re hurt too!’ the woman exclaimed as she led the way into the house. ‘Have you sprained your ankle?’
‘No. It’s just a war wound. It’s much better now, actually.’
By the time Georgie joined them, an older child had brought the father in from the barn and the small kitchen seemed full of people. To everyone’s relief, the father took charge and sternly ordered his younger daughter to sit still and keep quiet.
When he found out what had happened, he looked furious. ‘Didn’t we tell you not to play on the road, Dodie Evans?’ he roared.
The little girl began to cry even more loudly than before.
The mother looked pleadingly at him, but he shook his head and she held her tongue.
‘Didn’t we tell you?’ he demanded again. ‘Answer me, Dodie!’
‘Yes, Da.’
‘If you do that again, I’ll tie you up in the barn every day and you won’t get to play outside at all. Promise me faithfully, cross your heart and hope to die, that there will be no more going out on the road.’
She nodded several times in quick succession, making the crossing-heart gesture. ‘I promise, Da. It hurt.’
Georgie saw him close his eyes in relief and knew it was only love making him shout at the naughty child.
‘Are you hurting anywhere in particular, Dodie?’ she asked.
The child rubbed her forehead and when Georgie bent closer she could see that the bruise that had been starting to form now covered that side of her forehead. ‘Anywhere else hurting?’
‘I’ll check her out,’ the mother said. She picked the child up and whisked her into the room next door, coming back a few minutes later with the child clinging to her skirt. ‘Only a couple of bruises on her shoulder. Your car isn’t damaged, is it, sir?’
