Island Madness (42 page)

“You just got carried away, V, that’s all. Lost your sense of balance.”

“Well, I’m back on my feet now.”

“You’re not on your feet at all.”

He made to lean over. Veronica pushed him back.

“Just you lie be. In my arms.”

When they woke it was dusk. She got up, lit the candle and bent to the mirror, running a quick line of lipstick round her mouth. She caught Ned’s face in the mirror, watching her, his hands behind his head. It was like a marriage almost.

“I did what you asked,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Dreamt of you.”

She threw back the blanket. “Come on, rise and shine. We’ve no time for that now. We best get that fat on you.”

She put her hands on her hips while he stripped, then rubbed the cold grease over his body.

“I could get to like this,” she said.

He needed help putting his vest back on. She pulled it down hard and turned him around. She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his waist.

“Ned Luscombe,” she said.

“That’s my name.”

“If I squeeze you too hard you’ll pop out of your togs.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Actually we would.” She kissed him. “I’d better go. It’s the first performance tonight. We can’t all do vanishing acts.”

She left without any further fuss, a kiss, a long silent embrace, another kiss, quick and wet with tears, and then a hurried clatter down the stairs. Ned watched as she half ran down the garden path, puiling her coat around her shoulders. He hoped she might turn, wave to him, blow him a kiss, but she did not. She shut the little wooden gate and, head down, set her face against the wind. Then the space where she had been was empty. Veronica was gone.

Albert climbed the stairs. He felt tired and stiff. The town was empty. He could hear the faint noise of the music hall band coming from the theatre a few streets away. Mrs H. would be there, half the town too. There was no one to disturb him here. All he had to do was to extract the detonator. The rest he could dismantle in dribs and drabs. He was glad now that he didn’t have to do it. Since knowing Ned would be seeing Kitty, it was as if a boil had been lanced. He’d always hoped that Ned and Kitty would get together. Rose had maintained that Ned wasn’t Kitty’s type, she was too serious for him, too old fashioned. “Wait till he settles down,” Albert used to tell her. “He’ll see reason. She’s one in a million, our Kitty.” Yes. Perhaps in the months to come he’ll get another letter from the mainland. He could just imagine what it might say.
Guess what, Dad. Ned and I are getting
…

He opened the door and walked over the creaking wooden floor. Beside the unwashed window stood his lovely dangerous bomb cloaked in its paper mask. It would have worked. He laid the drainpipe down carefully and fetched out the clockwork mechan-ism. The wires were still in place. His hands were trembling. Suddenly, at the far end, the door to the storeroom at the back was pushed open and a man’s broad back emerged, with a snort and a rattle as he turned.

“Tommy?”

The big man gave a start. There was a crash and something metallic started to roll across the floor towards him.

“Mr Luscombe? What in blazes are you doing here?”

The object came to a rest against the toe of his boot. Albert picked it up. It gleamed in the dark.

“Might ask you the same question. Might ask you what you’re doing with this lot.”

“Confiscated goods from the raid,” Tommy replied. “We took so much stuff away we had to store some of it up here. I’m moving it back down for safe keeping.”

Albert weighed the tin in his hand.

“Just ‘cause you’re wearing a uniform, Tommy, don’t mean to say that I can’t tell a lie when I see one. My nephew has been looking all over the island for George Poidevin’s missing custard. I bet he doesn’t know it was up here all the time.”

“How do you know where it came from?”

“Cause I’m the bugger what broke in that night, Tommy. You didn’t know that, did you? I was halfway out that hole when I saw you plodding up the streef, flashing that torch about. Must have been like coming across Bluebeard’s treasure, seeing this lot shining in the dark.”

Tommy laid the rest of his load carefully on the floor.

“It were no great surprise. Ever since Inspector Petty and the others were arrested the Poidevins have had a clear run of it.”

“And the temptation too great for you, was it?”

Tommy put his hands in his pocket and drew out a handful of coins.

“Two pounds nineteen and threepence is what I get a week. Used to be four before the invasion. When the Inspector were in charge, it weren’t so bad. We all had a crack of the whip. But now! How do they expect us to get by on those sorts of wages? One hundred and fifty tins.” He nudged one towards Albert with his foot. “You can share it with me,” he said. “All of it, half and half. Christ Almighty, Albert, there’s more money here than you or I would ever see.”

“Now, now, Tommy. I don’t hold with swearing. Is that all you found? If we’re going into partnership, like.”

“I jemmied up a few more, but that was it. It’s enough. Near four pound a tin, you can get. You’d have to work a good many years to earn that sort of money.”

“You brought them all back here, then?”

“About twenty under my cape the first journey. Then on my bike, using one of our postbags. Daren’t go far, not with patrols about. Half and half, Albert, I can’t say fairer than that. I’ll do all the work, you just count the pennies. Three hundred apiece if we’re lucky.”

“I’ve taken two tins already.”

Tommy smiled. “On the house.”

Albert passed his tin from hand to hand then chucked it across. Tommy clapped his hands together.

“You got big hands, Tommy,” Albert said. “A uniform too.”

“So?”

“Ned said that this custard and Isobel’s murder were somehow mixed up but the poor lad didn’t know how. He got a witness who saw whoever it was chuck her down that shaft. A big chap it seems, with big hands, and a uniform too. Ned thought he meant a German uniform, not one of his own.”

“Half and half, like I said. Let’s leave it at that. You could buy a bungalow with your share. A car as well.”

“Is that what I’m going to tell him, that his daft old uncle solved his murder for him? Don’t know as I dare. He’d never live it down.”

“What about your daughter? Kitty, isn’t it? Think of what three hundred pound could do for her. Forget about the dead, Albert. Think of the living.”

“Just tell me. If we’re to be partners, I got a right to know. Then, whatever’s in this room, we can share.”

“You’re asking a lot of a man, Mr Luscombe.”

“Just tell me.”

Tommy sighed. He walked to the window and looked out.

“It was her bad luck really, coming up here that Saturday morning. I’d come back early, to move a couple of dozen back home, where I could start selling ‘em. Up here were only tempor-ary, what with all the rehearsals going on. I was loading them into my bag when Isobel bursts in, looking for some costume of hers. I drops what I have back in the trunk and slams the lid down hard. I don’t think she’s seen anything. I always liked Isobel, she was always friendly if we met outside or on the stairs. She told me she was going to a party that night, fancy dress. “It’s all a big surprise, Tommy,” she said. “I thought I might wear this,” and she puts her hand in along the rack and pulls out this bit of nothing with tassels and fringes. She held it up against her close like, her hand flat on her belly. “What do you think?” she said, flirting with me a bit. “Very pretty, miss, though a bit cold for the time of year.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ll have to wear something over it while I walk down, or I’ll catch my death. Once in the Casino, though…” and she gave a little twirl, just to show what I’d be missing. I didn’t mind that. I like a woman who knows the value of what she’s got. So she puts the dress in some fancy bag she’s brought along and hops off down the stairs. That unsettled me. There was no telling who else might waltz in. So I leave them be. I don’t like it but there’s nothing else I can do. I do me first shift. Then late afternoon we’re called up to go through the mail. That was the best thing your nephew done, weeding out them bastard letters. The best thing he done. Well, he’s stirring the pile when he goes, “What!” and pulls this letter out. It’s from Isobel, asking to see him Sunday morning.
Must see you
, it said.
Must
. But not here, not at the police station, but somewhere else, as if she wants to tell him something without anyone here knowing. Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it. She saw what I’d been doing, saw them tins. She knows the history of this place as well as anybody else, knows how half of us were sent to prison. Your nephew were brought in as a clean broom, make sure it didn’t happen again. And she was going to spill the beans, the two-faced little cunt. It would be the end of me. I know what’s happened to those poor bastards what got caught last time. I worked with them, drank with them, aye and broke into those fucking stores with them. They were my friends. It was her or me, Albert, that’s how I saw it, her or me. I had until Sunday morning. I knew she was going to the Casino and I knew she’d be walking. I’d got the Yellow Peril going by then, and about seven I went up there, parked at the top and waited. Half an hour later and her father hurried out across the road. It was now or never. I didn’t quite know what I was going to do. Maybe I could get her outside without any fuss. So I eased the car down and knocked on the door, all friendly like. She was there in a jifïy, all dressed up in that pretty little dress, her legs half bare. Tight, it were. Saw the shape of everything, like it was drawn on a sheet of paper. She were a pretty piece, there’s no denying it, and for a moment I wondered whether I couldn’t work the charm on her.

Amazing what a good slice of pork can do to a woman’s brains. If I’d had the time, who knows. “Yes?” she says, puzzled, but not suspecting that I know, and I think: Yes, that’s it, you’re just a little actress, that’s all, like all the rest of them, ‘cause that’s what they are, Albert, the lookers of this world, actresses, in the mind and in the heart and down below too. She thinks she got the measure of me, but it’s me what got the measure of her and I tells her that I’ve come with a message from Mr Luscombe, that he can’t see her tomorrow like she wanted but could see her now, straightaway, like. “He’s sent me with the car, miss,” I said, “and tell you what, after he’s done with you I’ll give you a lift down to the front,” and though she’s nervous she keeps her head and grabs her coat. It’s quiet in the lane and as I opened the back door and she ducked down I jumped down on top of her, pinned her down hard like against the seat, and she started to twist and heave, she can’t cry out ‘cause her face is all squashed against the seat, but she’s giving me a ride I can tell you, bucking like a bronco, and I can’t help thinking, ‘cause it’s not that much different, is it, her fighting for her life and her bouncing up and down on the end of my pole, and I grabs her head in both my hands, holding her down with my knees, grab it and twist it round hard like you would a rabbit, turned it right round so she’s looking at me again. You could hear her neck snap all the way down the road, I reckon. She weren’t quite dead but she were lifeless, and I propped her up and drove out to the headland. I was going to finish her off with a rock, make it look worse than it was, but when I got out of the car to do it I couldn’t. Like I said, she was a looker. I like a good-looking girl, never lifted a finger to any of them, Albert, never had to, always a gentleman even with me chopper in my hand, but I had to shut her up. Well, there’s no end of sandbags and cement bags up there so I scooped up a bit of both and mixed it all together in a bucket lying with a drop of water in the bottom, and stuffed it in her mouth and up her nose. They said I put it in other places but I never did, never. I just filled her up so she couldn’t talk no more. She died quick then, heaving a bit in the back, and I was going to leave her on the grass, but then I thought I could try laying the blame on the Germans too, by tipping her down one of those shafts out there. I was careful, put her down feet first, so it wouldn’t spoil her looks. I was thinking of her dad and the funeral. I didn’t want to make it any harder on him. Then I drove back and had a bloody good drink, more than I should have probably but to tell you the truth I felt bloody marvellous. I’d done it. I’d won. I had one hundred and fifty tins to my name and no one was any the wiser. I went on patrol with Peter, down by St Sampson’s again. Your nephew had asked us to make sure there were no further break-ins! When we got there, blow if there wasn’t this Kraut bastard ranting up and down George’s house, him or the whores next door I couldn’t tell which, Mrs P. leaning out of the window screaming her head off, the whores as well, so we hauled him down the road and smacked him about a bit while we marched him back to his billet. I’d no idea who he was. If I hadn’t nicked his wallet I’d have got clean away. Still can, despite all that’s gone on. No one’s any the wiser.”

“Except me. I know.”

“You’re an old man, Albert. Everyone knows you work too hard.”

“I thought you said we could share it, Tommy.”

“Carrying things up and down the stairs at your time of life. ]ust asking for a broken neck.”

“Half and half, Tommy. You agreed.”

“I’ve changed me mind, Mr Luscombe. I’m a greedy bastard. Always have been. An old buzzard like you don’t deserve three hundred pound. You probably would spend it on a bungalow. Bloody waste. Crack open a lot of young virgins, three hundred pounds. Sink a lot of pints on it too.”

Albert reached into the pipe.

“You’re not the only one who’s been busy smuggling,” he said. “This’ll make a bigger bang than your custard.”

“What’s that, then?” Tommy asked.

He peered down. He couldn’t see much, just a long black thing and a trickle of wire leading to Albert’s hand.

“She’s in the best of health, you know, Tommy,” Albert said.

“What?”

“My Kitty. She’s in the best of health.”

The theatre was crowded. She stood in the wings while other acts came and went. A line of dancing girls, a juggler, a troupe of Girl Guides. She could hear the low growl of the German voices, joining in the sing-song. Six months ago these voices would have been loud and lusty, drowning out the islanders with the coarse confidence of victory, but now they were muted, hesitant, sung in memory of their friends and their families and their threatened homeland.