by Anna Jacobs
They had a name for a women’s force already, though: the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps. But efforts to set up a corps kept getting bogged down in red tape and sheer bloody-mindedness on the part of those who didn’t want women involved with the military.
In spite of the resistance to their involvement, women were being employed in military units here and there, however, mostly in secretarial, nursing or catering jobs. So whether they liked it or not, the older, sour-faced top brass were getting used to seeing females around.
Thank goodness he wasn’t working for one of those old fogeys. He’d been hard put to keep his mouth closed at some of the remarks he’d overheard in corridors and even at meetings.
He gathered his papers together and tried to focus on the job in hand, setting aside his worries about Phoebe. He’d done all he could to help her. She wasn’t alone, at least.
He let out a little sniff of laughter. Not the least of her supporters were a benign ghost and the maid Ethel, with whom he’d had a quiet word before he left.
Ethel held the gun steady, trying to remember all the instructions Mrs Latimer had read out from the manual. Now or never. She fired the gun and waited to see how she’d done, feeling a bit shaky.
‘Very good!’ Olivia said. ‘Better than I did the first time. Try again.’ She stepped back from the target, out of the line of sight.
Ethel took a deep breath and fired again … and again. What would her hubby think of her doing this? She knew he hadn’t approved of women doing men’s work, but perhaps he’d have thought it important for her to be able to defend herself against cowardly attackers.
When she’d finished, she found she’d hit the target board nearly every time, and come close to the central bullseye with two of the bullets.
‘That’s excellent, far better than I did,’ Mrs Latimer said.
Ethel couldn’t prevent a smile.
They packed the things away, putting the gun in a big leather lady’s handbag, and walked back to the kitchen together.
Cook looked at them sharply. ‘Everything all right, ma’am?’
‘Everything’s fine. Ethel’s going to be a good shot.’
‘I’ll stick to my rolling pin, thank you very much.’ She brandished an imaginary one as she spoke.
Ethel dared to wink at her mistress.
‘Are you still going to have the Steins round to spend the evening with you tonight, ma’am?’ Cook asked. ‘Only I heard as the internees weren’t to be allowed out at night anymore.’
‘They don’t have to go out to spend an evening with me.’
Cook hesitated, then said, ‘I like Mr and Mrs Stein, don’t mistake me, ma’am. But people in the village seem to know everything that goes on at Greyladies, and I did wonder if it’d be better for you to have them round another time, once Captain Turner has found a way to prove the troubles are Hatterson’s fault. We need to get rid of the nasty creature.’
‘The Steins are coming this evening. I shan’t give in to bullying and threats.’
‘Very well, ma’am. Hope I haven’t given offence. It’s just … I’m worried about you.’
‘We have a gun now, don’t forget.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Cook turned back to stir a pan and only Ethel heard her mutter, ‘One gun and a whole big house to defend.’
Ethel didn’t say anything. She had her own plans for this evening. She was going to borrow a book from the library and have a good old read.
During the afternoon of the last day of the year, Phoebe visited Miss Bowers and asked her about the group of women Ethel had spoken of. ‘She says they’re trying to better themselves, learn to read and write or acquire whatever skills they need. Do you know anything about them?’
‘I do. But I think you’d be better joining them one day rather than me trying to tell you about them. Let them show you what they’re doing. As for your Ethel—’ She broke off abruptly. ‘Well, you must have realised by now that she’s a treasure, far too clever to be a maid. She’d make a good schoolteacher.’
‘I know I’m lucky to have her. Ethel was held back by her husband, who sounds to have been a despot – benevolent and loving, but a despot all the same. Did you know she once begged him to let her open a little sweet shop, because they hadn’t been able to have any more children after their son Danny, and he refused? Married women find it very difficult to run businesses without their husband’s approval and written permission. The law is an ass about that.’
She looked at Phoebe. ‘Are you still having the Steins round this evening?’
‘Yes. I’m not giving in to that bully.’
‘I agree. But be very careful to keep the curtains drawn. Captain Turner suspects that someone at Greyladies is giving information to Hatterson and his cronies.’
‘I know. But I’ve met all four soldiers who’re stationed here and they’re always very pleasant to me. And it can’t be the nurse or doctor, surely? Which leaves only the orderly or servants.’
‘Sadly, it can be any of them, my dear Phoebe. People do strange things when they’re not happy about something. Now, let me send my neighbour’s son home with you so that no one can waylay you. And please don’t come here on your own again till things are safer. How did you escape Ethel and Cook, anyway?’
‘I used the secret tunnel from the cellar to the crypt, then I detoured through the ruins of the abbey and walked into the village from the other side. If someone was keeping watch on the house, they’d not have seen me leave and they won’t see me return, either.’
‘They might be keeping watch on that side of the village if they saw you arrive. It was a dangerous thing to do on your own. You’ll oblige me by bringing someone with you next time, preferably Ethel.’
Phoebe sighed in resignation. When Miss Bowers spoke in that tone of voice, it was tantamount to a royal decree.
‘No, I’ve changed my mind, Phoebe. I shall walk back with you myself,’ the old lady decided aloud. ‘And we shall go into Greyladies openly, thank you very much, so that no one can trace the way you came. Besides, I’m too old to go crawling along tunnels.’
‘You don’t need to crawl along this one, just bend down at one part.’
But Miss Bowers was already putting on her coat and hat, and picking up her umbrella.
‘It doesn’t look like rain,’ Phoebe said in surprise.
‘I’m carrying it in case we’re attacked, and you should carry one too from now on. Take your husband’s umbrella. It’ll be heavier, much more suited to the job. Hold it halfway down so that you can use the handle to hit with.’
She maintained a pleasant conversation during their walk and as they parted at the kitchen door, reminded Ethel to introduce her mistress to the women’s group soon.
Phoebe spent a pleasant evening with her former employers, but the Steins said they were too old to stay up until midnight to greet 1916. She saw them to the door between the two parts of the house, hesitated, then locked it carefully with the huge key that Anne Latimer must have used.
If there was a traitor in the other side of the house, he or she wasn’t getting free access to the old house from now on.
She wouldn’t stay up till midnight, either, she decided. She was tired and worried. Her condition was beginning to show, just a little, and slow her down.
In the morning Phoebe suggested another practice session with the gun to Ethel and couldn’t help feeling a trifle miffed when it produced similar results. The maid had taken to shooting as if born to it and was far better at it than her mistress.
‘You learn quickly,’ Phoebe told her. ‘I’m going to give you a key to the gun cabinet and you have my permission to take out that gun if you ever feel it’s needed. If you carry it in that handbag we’re using or even in your skirt pocket, I don’t think anyone will know it’s there.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, I’ll do that.’
‘I think the post has arrived. Could you please check whether there are any letters for me?’
T
here was a postcard from Corin saying he was well.
There was also a letter posted in London, in a handwriting she didn’t recognise.
When she opened it, she let out a cry of dismay. It said, in crude, printed letters:
HUN LOVERS ARE TRATERS
GET OUT OF CHALLERTON MISSUS
IF YOU VALUE YORE LIFE
She held it out to Ethel, her hand shaking. It felt as if the paper itself was soaked in venom.
‘Whoever it is must be stupid. Can’t even spell.’ Ethel looked at her mistress, her eyes troubled. ‘You’d better be even more careful from now on, Mrs Latimer. I don’t think you should come to tomorrow’s meeting. It’ll be dark by the time we break up.’
‘I’ll be with you, not on my own.’
‘We’ll take the gun, then.’
‘No need for that.’
Ethel got a stubborn look on her face. ‘We don’t have to use it, do we? But if anyone attacks us, it might save our lives. Think of the baby.’
‘Oh, very well. Do as you please.’
The meeting was held in the church hall, only a short walk from the gates of Greyladies. The vicar approved of self-help groups and his wife had joined this one, apparently.
‘I still don’t think you should have come out tonight,’ Ethel worried as they left the grounds. ‘There’s a lady come to stay with Miss Bowers, who’s going to speak about setting up reading groups, so we’re bound to finish later than usual.’
‘I won’t let this villain stop me going out and about,’ Phoebe repeated, wondering how many times they’d have to have this argument. ‘I’m not stupid enough to go anywhere on my own, but I won’t cower in the house like a rat in a trap. You wouldn’t do that, either.’
Ethel gave her a wry look. ‘No. I wouldn’t. But then, I’m not important enough for anyone to go after me.’ She patted the handbag. ‘I brought it.’
‘Well, I hope you made sure the safety catch was on the gun.’
‘Of course I did.’
There were a dozen women standing chatting in the hall. Miss Bowers was at the front table with a stranger, a middle-aged lady wearing a ghastly hat and a dowdy grey frock and jacket. She was twirling a pair of pince-nez on the end of their cord as she made some point.
Phoebe waved to Miss Bowers, but when the former teacher didn’t beckon her over, she let Ethel introduce her to the trio of women closest to them. She recognised them by sight, but didn’t know the names of two of them, or their role in village life.
They seemed nervous at first, but relaxed as she asked them questions to find out what had brought them here tonight.
‘I want to improve myself, Mrs Latimer,’ the youngest woman said. ‘I’ve got three children and I don’t want them reading better than I do. How would that look? As if I’m stupid, that’s what, and I’m not.’ She broke off, looking a little scared, as if worried she’d spoken too strongly.
‘Good for you,’ Phoebe said.
Miss Bowers’ quiet voice somehow seemed to cut through the crowd. ‘If you’ll come and sit down now, ladies, I’ll introduce our visitor.’
‘Most of them know her by sight already, because she’s come to visit Miss Bowers before,’ Ethel whispered.
Miss Cowley started her talk, telling them about the reading groups she had started in her own village, each with a skilled reader in charge of helping the others. They read aloud to one another for the first part of their meetings.
‘It costs only the purchase price of the books and I’m happy to see to that. The same book can be used by each group in turn.’
By the end of the talk, Phoebe had to admit that it seemed a practical idea, and when there was talk about starting up reading groups in Challerton, she volunteered to pay for the books. That was what the money in the Latimer Trust was for, after all, helping women in large and small ways.
After a polite round of applause for the speaker, the tea urn was put into use.
A lad slipped into the hall the back way and edged across to Miss Bowers, who listened to him and frowned, then beckoned to Phoebe and Ethel.
‘There’s a man keeping watch on this hall. Joe here saw him follow you here.’
‘How on earth would anyone know we’d gone out?’ Phoebe exclaimed.
‘They must have someone passing on information from the big house.’
‘But we didn’t see anyone following us and I doubt Captain Turner would let the people under him wander in and out as they please.’
After a short silence, Joe said thoughtfully, ‘They could have signalled from the house, Mrs Latimer. A light in an upstairs window or something. I’ll watch out for that next time.’
‘Why were you watching the house, Joe?’
‘Practising.’
Phoebe looked at him in puzzlement. ‘For what?’
‘For when I go in the army next year. Soldiers keep watch, don’t they? I don’t want any enemy creeping up on me and killing me.’
‘How are we to get you home safely, Phoebe?’ Miss Bowers thought for a moment or two. ‘I know what we can do,’ she said triumphantly.
She clapped her hands and everyone turned to her. ‘A man followed Mrs Latimer here and has been watching the hall. You all know there have been incidents at the big house. I don’t think she and Ethel should walk back to the big house on their own. How about some of you go with them? Make a lot of noise, keep them in the middle, and take them right round to the back door.’
Immediately everyone volunteered, which made Phoebe feel touched. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
The speaker was watching them in surprise, so Miss Bowers quickly chose five women to go with Phoebe, then went back to her guest.
Joe slipped out of the kitchen door and it was carefully locked behind him this time.
When he’d had time to find a vantage point to watch from, he grinned as the group of seven women fairly erupted out of the front door, talking at the top of their voices.
Five minutes later they were at the kitchen door of the big house, standing in a semicircle round it as Phoebe and Ethel went inside.
‘How kind of them!’ Phoebe said.
‘It’s a nice place to live, this village,’ Ethel said. ‘I’ll just go and put the gun away.’
Standing in the shadows behind a big tree, Joe watched the mystery man follow the group to the gates of Greyladies.
This fellow limped very slightly, but not nearly as much as Hatterson did, so it couldn’t be him … could it?
The man stopped near the gates and watched the women go round to the back of the house, then hurled a stone at the nearest tree and cursed under his breath as he walked away.
Joe again followed him and saw him go into Hatterson’s house.
Was it Hatterson or not? Whoever it was, what had he intended to do with the stone?
On that thought, Joe decided to come back in daylight and see if he could retrieve the stone. Perhaps he might be able to tell where it came from. That’s what Sherlock Holmes would have done. He’d read those books again and again. Such a clever man, Mr Holmes.
In the meantime, Joe watched the group of chattering, excited women walk back to the village hall, where the meeting continued instead of breaking up. When he went to eavesdrop, they were talking about the danger to Mrs Latimer.
Joe’s older cousin was one of them. Like him, she wanted to better herself, but it was harder for her because she was married and had to stay here. He was going to use the army to better himself – or the air force if they’d take him. That was a new sort of thing, warfare in the sky. He loved watching it on the newsreels at the cinema in Swindon, and he’d seen single planes flying past in the distance, sounding like huge angry wasps.
Perhaps he could get into the air force sooner than his call-up date if he volunteered and lied about his age. He didn’t want to fly the planes, though. He wanted to work on their engines. He loved machinery of all sorts. His dad said he was a fair marvel at mending things.
The li
ght went off in the church hall. Miss Bowers and her guest were the last two to leave, and they talked quietly as they walked back to her house.
He waited where he was till they were inside her house, just in case Hatterson – if it was him – came after them, but he didn’t.
Joe checked all the way round Hatterson’s cottage. There were no lights inside, no sounds of people talking and the door remained firmly closed.
In fact, no clues to be found.
He continued to patrol the village until the sky began to brighten then sought his own bed, yawning, but pleased with his night’s work.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia listened carefully to Babs’s instructions, then had a go at starting the car. She looked at her mentor in delight as the motor came to life. ‘How much easier it is with a starter motor instead of having to swing a crank handle round. Even Charles had trouble starting our motor car sometimes, and I haven’t dared try to get it going since he died. So it’s just sitting there in our – my – garage, useless.’
‘You should definitely sell it and use the money to buy another car that’s easier to drive. Being able to get around would make a big difference to your life. No, wait. You’ll probably have trouble finding another car to buy, though, because everything’s geared to the war effort now and not many companies are producing new vehicles.’ Her face brightened. ‘I know! You can ask Alex’s help.’
Olivia was well aware that it was no use being tactful with Babs, so asked straight out, ‘Are you by any chance matchmaking?’
‘Actually, no. I just think if anyone could find you another car, it’d be him. He’s very quiet, but he’s well thought of and knows everyone. He likes to help people.’
‘Oh. Well. That’s all right, then. I’ll think about it.’
‘Up to you. Now, let’s see how you go at driving …’
