I'll Get By (32 page)

‘No, sir,’ and although the speaker sounded apologetic, there was steel in his voice. ‘You’re going to hospital first.’

First had been the interrogation. Leo found it hard to lie, but he had very little to say, apart from repeating French gossip. Something that was hard for him to do because, apart from a few common words, he didn’t speak the language and most of the conversation had gone over his head.

He did his best to report everything he’d seen in Cherbourg, the number of troops, etc. He pointed out, ‘I had a broken leg and mostly saw the inside of barns, attics and cellars, when I wasn’t blindfolded. They were very careful. He had nothing but praise for his rescuers. The Resistance cell who’d rescued him had been a well-run operation and he wasn’t about to jeopardize the lives of the people who’d looked after him by revealing so much as a name.

‘Did you see the person who brought you back home?’

Leo felt the need to protect the man. ‘No . . . it was totally dark and I slept for most of the way. I woke up where I was found.’

‘Perhaps he was a black marketeer. Some of them smuggle goods back and forth. Did he have any cargo on board?’

Leo remembered the guns and ammunition being unloaded at the other end, and hoped they’d been put to good use. ‘Unfortunately, it was too dark to see anything.’

After the interrogation the remains of the decaying cast was removed from his leg. He enjoyed a soak in the bath before being poked and prodded.

‘Hmmm. The person who set this fracture was an expert. I’m going to give you some extra calcium to take. Go easy on it for a while. I dare say you’ll know when it’s ready.’

He was issued with a pair of crutches, a clean uniform and a chitty for a month’s leave before he needed to return to duty. Discharged the next morning he made his way home to Queen Street and banged at the door. There was no answer.

Some of the windows had been broken, and there was damage to the panel in the front door that had been covered with cardboard. He pushed it in, then pushed his arm through the aperture and opened the front door.

‘Esmé,’ he called, and the cat came trotting out of somewhere to weave around his ankles. He tickled him under the chin.

Limping up the stairs he pushed open the bedroom door. It was clean and tidy, the bed bare of covers. There were a couple of letters on the dressing table.

One was from Esmé, the other from his sister-in-law in Australia, Minnie. He slid it into his pocket and opened the one from Esmé. She’d gone to Dorset to be near her sister.

Leo hated hearing his wife cry, but on this occasion he thought he might enjoy it.

A few seconds later, the telephone in Nutting Cottage began to ring. He imagined Esmé coming down the stairs, wearing her favourite brown slacks and her long pink cardigan with pearl buttons over a cream blouse. Or was it a blue cardigan? It didn’t matter. She would be holding their precious baby in her arms.

There was a choking lump in his throat just thinking about it.

She picked up the receiver right on cue and said, ‘Esmé Thornton speaking.’

‘This is Leo. Have I told you recently that I love you, my sweet bonny Esmé?’

There was silence for a few moments, then cautiously, ‘Leo Thornton?’

‘How many Leos do you know?’

‘Leo, you beastly creature, where have you been for all this time?’ she scolded. The big sniff she gave was followed by a bigger sob, as if all her tension was being released like a cork from a bottle as she wailed, ‘I’ve missed you.’

Baby Johnno gave a bit of a bellow and she soothed him with. ‘Why are you complaining, my little man? It’s your father. He’s come home? I told you he would.’

Now it was Leo’s time to cry, and he choked out, ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can . . . on the next train if I can get there on time.’

Meggie usually walked to work unless she was late. She always took a detour to the river, just in case. It was odd how the landscape kept changing. Streets once lined with buildings were demolished, or partly demolished. Rows of houses had gaps in them and windows were blown out or boarded up, as though the houses were sightless. Street trees lost leaves and limbs.

Some houses had lost their fronts like doll’s houses. Beds and dressing tables teetered from ledges, held by a leg or two. Drawers were open and sheets and blankets hung down like bunting. People hunted among the rubble piles, looking for precious keepsakes. Some furnishings had their innards exposed, chunks of lathe and plaster, held by whiskers of horsehair that had helped strengthen the mix. Springs sprung from chairs.

There had been retaliation since the blitz. The RAF had abandoned their policy of industrial bombing. No longer were just the German factory and dock areas targeted, but they flattened civilian areas as well. The game of war had become ruthless. The gloves had come off.

The day was overcast and the wind had a bite to it, a reminder of the coming winter. It would be her birthday in October. Her mother had planned a party for her.

‘It won’t be as grand as we would have liked, Meggie dear, but we thought you’d prefer something more subdued, so it will be the family.’

Meggie missed her aunt, though they talked on the telephone now and again. She had a yearning to see her mother again. Sometimes she felt as if she was playing at being grown-up. What she wanted was a big hug from someone who loved her.

She wondered if Nick would come home. She had never known him to be away for such a long time. Even James Bethuen had called her into his office and quizzed her on Nick’s whereabouts two days before.

She told him the truth. ‘I have no idea, sir. He doesn’t take me into his confidence.’

Bethuen gave her an odd look, then smiled his tight smile and said, ‘Quite.’

Judith told her that night, ‘Bethuen works under someone else, and they must be getting worried about his long absence. I think he knows about Nick socializing with us. You should be careful, Meggie.’

‘About what?’

‘That nobody finds out about you two. His father knows a lot of people, and I doubt if he’d approve if you had any ideas of grandeur. I mean, look what happened when you set your sights on that lawyer. Nick is much further up the scale.’

Judith was unaware of how social Meggie had been with Nick, and Meggie wasn’t about to tell her. Her housemate wasn’t exactly discreet.

Meggie was also worried. When she reached the river her heart leaped. There was a yacht at the berth. It was Nick’s boat but it was different in that it was battered, scratched and scruffy. The name had also gone.

She went on board, her footsteps echoing on the planked decking, and softly called his name, ‘Nick.’

There was no answer, and the cabin doors were locked.

When she got to the office Bethuen called her in again. ‘I’m given to understand that you and Lord Cowan are . . .
close.
’

She kept cool. ‘From whom?’

He didn’t answer but avoided her eyes. ‘You do know, my dear, that any relationship that might develop between staff members is frowned upon. I could make an exception in certain circumstances. Has Lord Cowan told you what he does and where he goes during his absences?’

Wild Spanish bulls stampeding around Bethuen’s office wouldn’t make her betray Nick – not that there were many of them in Whitehall, she imagined.

She counted to ten, adding an imaginary
Olé!
at the end, knowing she could answer him truthfully, and more. ‘I’m not privy to Lord Cowan’s work schedule or activities, and I object to the inference that there’s collaboration of some sort between us. If you have any complaints about my work or feel that I’ve violated the Official Secrets Act in any way, or even brought disrespect down on the service I represent, please contact the appropriate department of the service.’

Judith winked at her when she left the office.

Expecting Nick to turn up at work she was on tenterhooks all day. Gordon Frapp gave her a heap of aerial photographs to pore over. Barely able to concentrate, she did her best to discover anything looking remotely sinister.

‘What did Bethuen want?’ Frapp asked her, and too casually to be taken as such.

‘He asked me if I knew where Lord Cowan was.’

Frapp gave a knowing grin. ‘Do you?’

‘Of course I do.’

His eyes took on the avid eagerness of a dog waiting for a titbit. ‘Where?’

Rising, she closed the door then looked under the desk. ‘We’re not bugged are we?’

‘I’d know if we were.’

‘Good, because I’d hate this to get out, Mr Frapp . . . I keep Lord Cowan in the pickle jar in my larder.’

Frapp’s grin failed. ‘Very funny . . . I can see where your loyalty lies.’

‘It is a pity yours doesn’t coincide with mine.’

She didn’t tell him the boat was back at its berth. He could find out that for himself if he bothered to look. It occurred to her that Nick seemed to thrive on intrigue, perhaps boredom had driven him to it before the war, but it was something entirely different and dangerous now if the bullet in his arm had been anything to go by.

She didn’t even know where he lived, which, considering his declaration of love and the engagement ring, was rather odd. Perhaps that had been play-acting too. Her heart sank. Life was suddenly getting complicated.

It was getting complicated for Nick, too. Eight weeks of sailing the French coast and the Mediterranean while trying to catch up with his contacts and gather information had been wearying. If he’d been caught running guns he’d have been shot out of hand.

Thankfully, Leo had recovered enough from his injuries to be handed over – to the visible relief of the Resistance. He was sorry he’d had to give him knock-out-drops. The man was too sharp. Thornton had already seen Nick’s face once, when he’d taken the jewellery back. What on earth had possessed him to play such stupid games?

A quick phone call from a nearby telephone box and Nick’s man had arrived with a wheelchair. He’d cut it fine, and Leo was already beginning to recover by the time they’d got him away from the river. They’d watched from the shadows of the trees as the appropriate authorities had come for his passenger.

William had taken Nick home, and he’d been staggering from fatigue by the time they got there.

‘Your father, the earl has rung several times, My Lord. He’s heard rumours.’

In his absence Nick had thought a lot about his father. Rumours had a habit of reaching his ears quickly. He took a shot in the dark. ‘Call him and put his mind at rest, William,’ he croaked. ‘But I imagine you don’t need me to tell you that.’

‘As you say, sir!’

‘Tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I need a few hours of undisturbed sleep.’

‘And your young lady. Isn’t it about time he met her?’

‘Since you enjoy running my life so much, arrange something then.’ Nick smiled, thinking of Meggie. She was never far from his mind, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. I’ll visit her this evening and surprise her. Though he didn’t think it would be much of a surprise, since she had it all worked out, he was sure.

William eyed him critically. ‘That beard will certainly surprise her. It’s most unkempt.’

‘This beard will be removed once I’ve slept, William, so start stropping the razors. And pack a hamper and add a bottle of champagne if you would, the best we’ve got.’

‘A special occasion, sir?’

‘Every time I see her is a special occasion. You’re being inquisitive William.’

‘Yes, sir, I’m aware of that, but one couldn’t help but notice that you have more than a fondness for the young lady.’

‘One should mind his own business.’

Unperturbed, William said, ‘I dare say, but the welfare of one’s master
is
one’s business. Wouldn’t it be more convenient for the young lady to visit you here, since the area where she lives has been subjected to heavy bombing lately, and there’s a lot of rubble to navigate.’

‘I’m more than fond of her. I adore her, and I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me. And yes, you’re right. I shall visit her personally and escort her to dinner. By the way . . . the boat needs urgent maintenance. In particular the fire extinguisher needs to be replaced.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll let the maintenance people know right away.’

Meggie did her usual detour to the river on the way home. She stood there in the evening mist staring at the empty space where the boat had been. She couldn’t believe it . . . it had gone from its mooring!

Had everything he’d said to her been lies? She knew he was back in England, she could almost smell him.

She headed for home, changed out of her uniform and into her best dress, just in case.

As usual, Judith was seeing her latest boyfriend. They were off to the cinema to see a film. ‘I’ll get myself some beans on toast for dinner,’ she’d said.

‘There’s a slice of corned beef to go with it. And I made a jelly.’

Meggie would sit in the empty house, except for the company of Jack Frost. There was a tin of caviar in the larder, left over from Nick’s last hamper. She opened it for the cat to eat.

A pity it wasn’t tinned herrings in tomato sauce. Her mouth began to water at the thought. There were no fresh eggs now. Somebody had stolen the hens from the back garden when they were at work.

After Judith had gone she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea.

There was a note propped against the salt and pepper pots. She stared at it, and then her heart seemed to explode. It was from Leo! He was alive! She snatched it up.

Meggie,
I’m home again. I’m taking a month’s leave and have gone to Dorset to see Es and the baby.

Racing into the hall she rang the number of Nutting Cottage, her smile a mile wide.

Her aunt answered and said in a breathless rush. ‘Somebody rescued Leo. He’d been injured and the Resistance found him and looked after him. He came home in a yacht and security picked him up. They wouldn’t let him ring me until after he’d been interrogated.’