Peace Comes to Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  Patrick moved out into the hall. ‘I’ll see you to the front door, Mr Leatherby.’

  ‘I’ll leave too, now,’ Bella said, picking up the basket.

  They saw her walk next door, but there was the murmur of men’s voices from the hall still and Leatherby didn’t leave for a few minutes. Patrick was looking pleased about something when he returned, but as he didn’t volunteer any information, Georgie didn’t ask him.

  It was a question now of waiting for dusk. Rosie started cooking the stew and Dennis said he’d take a nap sitting with his back to the kitchen door while she worked, so as to be there if she needed help.

  He sat down, eyes closed and seemed to go instantly to sleep.

  Georgie looked at him in bemusement and whispered to Patrick, ‘How can he just go to sleep like that? Or is he pretending?’

  ‘A lot of men learnt to nap when they could during their time in the Army. You didn’t get regular hours for sleep when you were fighting at the front.’

  Martin had stayed awake, but Patrick suggested he grab a quick nap too. ‘I can keep watch on the front of the house, and I’ll see anyone who tries to sneak past. I doubt they’ll try to do anything else in broad daylight, especially not with people next door as well as in here.’

  ‘I’ll go in the dining room for my nap if you don’t mind, Mr Farrell. I can be awake in an instant and come running.’

  ‘When did I become Mr Farrell?’ Patrick asked in surprise.

  ‘When you took charge of our group. Can’t call you sergeant now, can we, so it’s Mr Farrell, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Oh. Well—’ But he was talking to himself. Martin had already gone into the dining room on the opposite side of the entrance hall.

  This left Georgie and Patrick alone together in the front room and he gave her one of his slow, warm smiles.

  ‘They all respect you,’ Georgie said. ‘And rightly so.’

  ‘Tell me that when I’ve got you safely through all this trouble.’

  ‘What next, do you think?’

  ‘I couldn’t even guess. We just have to be ready for trouble.’

  She sighed. ‘I sometimes wonder if this whole situation is real. Maybe I’m simply having one of those nightmares that goes on and on.’

  ‘Surely what’s happened over the past few days isn’t all nightmarish?’

  His eyes were on her face as he said that, his smile so tender that she smiled back involuntarily. ‘No. Some of it is very good, Patrick. Or it will be when the nightmarish part ends, I hope.’

  ‘It will if I have any say.’

  ‘I agree. Don’t forget that after you meet my father, though.’

  ‘Is he so intimidating?’

  ‘He can be, yes.’

  ‘I had a bit of practice at dealing with intimidating officers in the Army.’

  ‘Not as bad as my father, I’m sure.’

  ‘We’ll see how I go with him when the time comes.’

  After that she leant back in the dusty old armchair to have a little rest.

  She came awake with a jerk when someone said her name and shook her shoulder gently. ‘What? Oh, I’m sorry, Patrick. I didn’t mean to nod off.’

  ‘Good thing to do. Who knows how much sleep we’ll get tonight.’

  ‘Did you manage a nap?’

  ‘Well, no. But then, I’m in charge.’

  ‘Is something wrong? Is that why you woke me?’

  ‘Not at all. Rosie says tea will be ready in an hour and I have to take the car to the workshop first, so I can’t leave you sleeping in here on your own.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Better not.’

  She sighed but this time she didn’t press the point. She didn’t want to put him in danger. ‘Take care how you go. You will pick up Gregory on the way, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I will. Martin is on duty in the front hall again, and Dennis is in the kitchen. I woke him up as well, now that I’m going out. You should sit in there. We’ll eat our tea straight after I get back, then leave as soon as it’s fully dark.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Before you do anything, how about changing into the men’s clothes your friend brought across? Then we’ll all be ready to sneak out at a moment’s notice. Until then, you will stay with the others, won’t you?’

  ‘I won’t break my promise, Patrick. Hurry back, though. I’ll not feel comfortable till I know you’re safe.’

  He nodded, blew her a kiss and walked to the front door.

  As she went up the stairs, she heard the front door close and the clicking sound as Martin shot the door bolt into place behind Patrick.

  As she changed her clothes and took her bundle of things down, she wondered how long they were going to be living like this, watching out for an attack every minute?

  No wonder the war had marked men, if they’d had years of this sort of tension.

  Only the war was officially over now. Why couldn’t these horrible people understand that?

  When Patrick stopped the car outside Gregory’s cottage and tooted the horn, the front door opened at once and he came out, accompanied by his dog.

  ‘Feel like earning a bob or two doing a short stint of guard duty, Gregory?’

  ‘Any time. What about Rex?’

  Patrick frowned, not liking the thought of Rex spreading mud and scuffing the car’s leather upholstery when the vehicle didn’t belong to him. On the other hand, the dog was big enough to make a powerful guard in its own right. ‘He can come in the back of the car, if he’ll be all right on the floor there.’

  ‘He’s never rid in a car afore, but he’ll settle quickly if I tell him to sit. Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re driving to Leatherby’s workshop, leaving the car there and walking back. I don’t think we’ll be long but I don’t want to take any risks by walking back on my own.’

  ‘Quite right. I’ll just tell the wife.’

  He came back with the dog ambling along beside him.

  ‘Don’t you need a leash for him?’

  ‘Bless you, no, sir. My Rex is the best behaved dog I ever did have.’

  And the dog proved it by settling down in the car as told, once he’d given it a few exploratory sniffs.

  Patrick watched enviously. He’d never had a dog and would like to have one if ever – no, when he settled down somewhere. Georgie had seemed quite at ease with Rex earlier on. Maybe she’d like to have one, too?

  The big doors of the workshop were open ready for them, and Malcolm gestured to Patrick to drive in.

  The place was bigger than Patrick had remembered. This time he studied it very carefully. ‘Plenty of room to work in.’

  ‘Ah. An’ I own it, don’t I? Took me years to pay off the loan, but I did it. So now I can rent it out to someone when I retire and have an income from it as well as the old age pension. Seven shillings and sixpence a week for a married couple, they give you, as long as you don’t earn more than thirty pounds – now was it that or was it thirty-one pounds? Anyway, it don’t matter. I’ll be over seventy soon and I fit all the rules. Wonderful idea to give honest, hard-working folk a pension, makes all the difference to growing old, don’t it? Eh, my dad would have thought himself a king if he’d had it. Still working, he was, the day before he died.’

  Patrick was getting used to how much Malcolm talked. He wasn’t used to sharing his own hopes, but there was a sense of camaraderie between them that he’d experienced before with mechanics, so he said it aloud. ‘After our talk I had a good think, and now I’ve seen this place I’m sure it’d suit me. I’m looking for a workshop of my own now I’m out of the Army. I’ve some money put by, could pay the rent and buy the equipment, if you’re selling it.’

  ‘Ah. Might you now? That’d be worth discussing. I do want to sell my things, though I’ll be sad to lose them.’

  ‘This isn’t the time to discuss it, but once we’ve sorted out these villains and got Miss Cotterell safe, perhaps you and I coul
d get together?’

  ‘You’re a proper mechanic, ent you? I’d not want this place used for anything else. Proud of it, I am.’

  ‘Yes. I was trained in the Army.’ He mentioned a few types of vehicle he’d worked on, said nothing about wanting to sell cars as well, then helped Malcolm to disable the motor.

  After that, he and Gregory set off back for Pear Tree Lane.

  He kept his eyes open for trouble, of course he did, but at the same time he felt a sense of hope running through his veins, hope such as he hadn’t felt in years. If he had his own workshop, he’d not feel so much at a disadvantage with Georgie. And she loved it here in Honeyfield.

  Would what he could offer be enough to appease her father, though?

  Did she really care about him?

  He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Captain Jordan spent the rest of the day in the quiet little hotel where his mother always stayed when she came to London. He slipped out to do some shopping for clean underwear, a shirt and toiletries, buying them from a backstreet gentleman’s outfitters where he wasn’t known. He hadn’t felt it safe to retrieve his possessions from the private room he rented in the working-class suburb, even after the men who chased him had gone.

  He made no attempt to go back to his own flat, either, because he was quite sure there would be someone waiting there to arrest him – or worse. It was a serviced flat, so would be clean and ready when he did return, with his washing done, his clean shirts hanging in their place. On that thought he looked in the mirror and grimaced at the quality of the clothes he was now wearing. Needs must. At least they were clean.

  This whole situation was a strange turn of affairs, very strange indeed. He’d better be right in his suspicions and was hoping desperately he could manage to get away from London and find Cotterell. He had to pin all his hopes on that. Fancy Major Butterly, the most pernickety bore of a man you could ever meet, being a traitor!

  Jordan ordered the evening meal the hotel provided for its residents, but asked for it to be served in his room.

  ‘Have to charge you a florin extra, sir, I’m afraid.’ The young man on the desk was thin and looked unwell, wheezing slightly as he moved around.

  ‘That’s fine.’ It’d be well worth two shillings to keep out of sight. ‘Um, you don’t have any magazines or books I could read, do you? I’m just recovering from an illness and need to live quietly, but I forgot to bring a book and that room is a bit too quiet for my taste. My mother stays here and she says the staff are very helpful so I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

  ‘It’s Captain Jordan, isn’t it? I remember you visiting your mother here once.’

  ‘You have a good memory. Gassed, were you?’

  A tight little nod was his only answer, then the man said, ‘You could buy a second-hand book from the shop two doors away.’

  ‘I wonder if you could do that for me?’

  There was a pause, then the clerk nodded.

  ‘Thank you. Don’t say who it’s for, there’s a good chap. And please don’t mention to anyone that I’m staying here.’ He mentioned the types of novel he usually read, with the proviso that anything was better than nothing.

  The clerk hesitated, frowning. ‘Are you on leave from the Army, sir? I was wondering why you weren’t in uniform this time.’

  ‘I’ve been assigned to somewhere else for the time being, a security matter. Hence the secrecy. Helping me means you can still serve your country.’

  The young man straightened up. ‘Then I’m your man, sir.’

  Later on, Jordan made sure to tip him well for his help.

  The young man accepted the coin. ‘Sorry to take your money, but I have a wife and child at home. Every single farthing helps these days.’

  ‘I understand. And a book will help keep me sane, so I’m happy to reward you. What time will the desk be manned in the morning? I need to leave early.’

  ‘I’ll be here by six o’clock, sir. And if you’d prefer to leave by the rear entrance, I can show you the way without anyone being the wiser.’

  ‘Good chap. That’s an excellent idea.’

  When he’d left again, Jordan looked at the book, a dog-eared copy of The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan. He put it beside the bed, was about to don his new pyjamas, then packed them away again. He’d sleep in his clothes tonight ‘in case’. With his revolver to hand.

  There was electric lighting in the room but the bulb was rather dim, so reading wasn’t easy and his eyes soon grew tired. Anyway, he couldn’t concentrate on the story, though it was well written, so he put it aside and switched off the light.

  It was hard to get to sleep, even harder to stay asleep. He kept jerking awake every time he heard someone moving about nearby.

  The night seemed longer and darker than usual.

  At last it was time to get up and dress. It was still dark outside and few people were stirring, which suited his needs perfectly.

  Once he’d paid, Jordan asked about leaving the back way.

  The obliging young man suggested he put on an overall then carried his shabby bag and showed him the way out. Jordan took note of that efficiency for future reference. The fellow might be a potential clerk in the bureau, if things were ever put to rights there.

  It was still too early for other guests to be around and the maid they passed in the corridor was yawning and didn’t even give him a second glance, probably assuming he’d been there to repair something.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘Albert Dodham, sir. If you need me again, I’m always here. Good luck.’

  Jordan took off the overall and slipped his helper a further half-crown for his trouble, which brought a brief smile to the thin face.

  Then he set off through the still dark streets, heading for a friend’s house. The friend was over in France but would forgive him for borrowing without permission the car kept there once he explained why, he was sure.

  The house was dark, no sign of life in it or the neighbouring properties, thank goodness.

  He picked the lock of the back door and left a cryptic note that only his friend would understand nailed to the wall in what had once been the coach house and now lodged a Model T Ford. It started first time, thank goodness, probably because his friend paid a man to come round and run it round the streets for half an hour or so every month.

  He hoped he’d bring the car back intact. If not, he’d have to get funding from the bureau to replace it, always supposing the bureau was out of Butterly’s hands then. If not, Jordan might not be around to care about any car.

  He only stopped once, to buy some motor spirit and visit a village bakery for a couple of rolls, which the shopkeeper there obligingly buttered for him.

  And all the time he kept wondering where Cotterell was and what that enigmatic man was planning. This whole thing would have been much easier if he occasionally took others into his confidence about his plans.

  The main thing Jordan feared at the moment was falling into the clutches of Major Butterly and the thugs he seemed to have hired. He wasn’t sure he was heading to the right place for finding Cotterell, but had overheard enough over the years to have one or two ideas about where to start his search.

  He was rather good at eavesdropping, if he said so himself. Nearly everyone who worked at the bureau had unusual skills of some sort.

  That same morning Mathers and Nora rose early, since Lady Berrens had changed her plans and had decided they should go to her house in the morning darkness, instead of hanging around all day. Or, as he guessed, Mr Cotterell had revised his plans at the last minute, as he often did.

  They made do with a quick cup of tea and a jam sandwich for breakfast, eating in silence.

  Before they went out to the car, he peered out of a rear bedroom window into the darkness. He could see no sign of movement in the back alley but that didn’t guarantee t
hey’d be safe going out, so he’d taken the precaution of employing a lad who occasionally helped out around the house and was willing to do anything to earn money.

  This time Jim had been instructed to keep watch on the car and to stay awake all night, so that he’d hear any movement outside in the laneway. If anyone tried to break into the former coach house, he was to fire a gun in the air, a prospect that made him dizzy with delight.

  Jim jumped up to help as Mathers and Nora went out with their luggage.

  ‘Everything all right, lad? You didn’t hear anything?’

  ‘Not sure, sir. I’d have heard if there’d been anyone creeping about on Mr Cotterell’s property, or trying to break in here. I did wonder if I heard footsteps outside further along the laneway a time or two, though. Slow, as if someone was stretching his legs but trying to keep quiet.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘I got good hearing, Mr Mathers. My mam reckons I could hear a mouse breathe under the floorboards.’

  ‘Then we’ll assume that someone is out there waiting to follow us. If so, you know what to do after we leave.’

  ‘Yessir.’ His teeth showed white in the moonlight as he grinned. ‘I shall enjoy that.’

  ‘Make sure you stay safe and never mind the enjoyment. These men are dangerous.’

  ‘They won’t catch me, Mr Mathers. If I could stay out of my stepfather’s reach when I was younger, I can stay out of anyone’s now I’m older.’

  ‘You’re a good lad. When you’re old enough to leave school, I’ll make sure you get a job. Don’t lose that key, now.’

  ‘Nossir. An’ thank you, sir.’

  Well, he would help Jim – if he was still around, Mathers corrected mentally.

  He helped Nora into the back of the car and suggested she crouch down out of sight.

  Working for Mr Cotterell and serving your country were not without danger, he thought as Jim crank-started the motor.