Jacob and I waited for the officers to come from Truro and when Alice and Kitty came home I told all of them what had happened in Portugal. I hated telling Jacob that Max, whom he loved, as he loved Marisol, was the son of a Nazi who delighted in persecuting Jews. ‘Major von Klausen wants his son and I’m sure that the man who followed us in Lisbon was his agent.’ I swallowed. ‘I saw him standing outside this house.’
They listened with growing alarm.
‘But you told me it would be all right,’ said Kitty, her face pale. ‘You did tell me that Max’s father wanted to take him. But you said he could not, because he is in Germany.’
‘I think he has friends here.’
‘Oh!’ She looked frightened and Alice put an arm around her shoulders.
‘Look,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘There are four of us. We can easily protect the children and each other.’
‘Quite right,’ Alice said stoutly. ‘I’m going to sleep in the nursery. Just let that bugger try and get past me.’
It was hard to explain the seriousness of the problem to the policemen from Truro.
‘Major von Klausen is an important SS officer, with links to the highest command of the German government,’ I said. ‘He has no male children and he wants his son. I think he has organised a group here, in this county, to take him.’
The inspector looked astonished. ‘And your sister was married to this man?’ He raised his eyebrows to his sergeant who stood by the door, and the sergeant shook his head in disbelief.
‘No,’ I confessed.
‘She was his mistress?’
I nodded, hating the distaste in his voice. ‘But she isn’t well,’ I added. ‘You can’t question her.’
‘She has TB,’ said Jacob firmly. ‘And has not very long to live. You must not upset her.’
The inspector glanced at Jacob. ‘And who, exactly, are you, sir?’
‘Inspector,’ I said, my voice louder than I’d intended. ‘Has someone looked for the man who was standing outside and has anyone gone to the pub to question Miss Cathcart? She is a fascist, you know. Before the war she was very much part of that movement.’
He frowned. ‘Many people were followers before the war. It wasn’t a crime.’
‘It is now!’ I shouted, and Jacob put a restraining hand on my arm.
‘The man outside?’ he asked. ‘Have you captured him?’
The inspector shrugged. ‘No sign of him . . . if he was ever here, and yes, Miss Blake, I have sent an officer to the pub. Miss Cathcart is being questioned even as we speak, although I don’t know what good that’ll do.’ He looked around the kitchen, at the dresser with the fine china dinner service, which had been in the house since my grandfather’s time, and then up to the pulley, where the children’s clothes were drying. He directed his gaze back at me. ‘I understand, Miss Blake, that you are some sort of a journalist. A writer. D’you not think that this could be . . . something from your imagination. I mean, spies? In Cornwall?’ He grinned at his sergeant, who joined in with a chuckle.
‘No,’ I said coldly. ‘It is not part of my imagination. And I do request that you leave a constable here overnight to guard us.’
‘I can’t,’ he said, standing up. ‘I haven’t the men. But I will make further enquiries when I get back to headquarters. In the meantime, I suggest you all get some sleep.’
We were left alone, my urgent request for help put to one side.
‘I’m still going to sleep in the nursery,’ Alice snorted, and taking her mug of cocoa, which I’d made while we decided what to do, made her way upstairs.
‘Go to bed, Kitty,’ I said. I felt utterly drained and desperately needed to be on my own. ‘You too, Jacob. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll try phoning around; my solicitor, for one thing. He might know who to contact.’ Of course, who I really wanted was Charlie. He’d know what to do.
Xanthe’s bell was ringing and I went to her room. She was sitting upright against her pillows, her eyes bright and her cheeks suffused with the shell-pink glow from her bedside lamp. I paused, just to look at her. She was so beautiful that if it hadn’t been for the thin dribble of blood at the corner of her mouth, she could have been a glamorous model from one of her magazines.
I took a cloth from her washstand and wiped the blood away. It was fresh.
‘Have you been coughing?’ I asked.
‘Just clearing my throat,’ she whispered. ‘I think a man was in my room. A man in uniform.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It was a policeman. We thought we saw a prowler, but he’s gone now. It’s all right.’
‘Oh.’
I waited for her to make a fuss, but she didn’t seem interested. ‘I’ll get you a drink,’ I said. ‘What would you like?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was fading and her eyes wandered around the room. ‘Is Wolf downstairs?’ she said. ‘Will he come up to see me?’
I didn’t know what to say. She was obviously confused, the fever was taking over. ‘You do seem awfully warm,’ I murmured, and wetting the cloth again wiped her face and neck. Then I squeezed it out and laid it over her forehead. I’ll get Dr Jago out in the morning, I told myself. A decision had to be made about Xanthe’s care.
‘That’s lovely,’ she whispered. ‘The temperature here in Berlin is stupidly hot. I’m going to ask Wolf to take us to the seaside. Monte would be good, or perhaps Biarritz. Yes.’ Her eyes shone. ‘Biarritz. The wind comes in off the sea there and it would be wonderfully cool. It’s just as smart, really. Royal families stay there, some even live there. And it has a casino. I went there once, with Binkie.’
I sat in the chair beside her, half listening, as she prattled on, until eventually she dropped off to sleep again and I closed my eyes.
I was woken at seven o’clock by Jacob, who gently shook my shoulder and put a cup of tea on the table beside me. He looked critically at Xanthe, who was lying low in the bed and breathing hoarsely.
‘I think she is worse,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes.’ I got up, and gently taking Xanthe under the arms lifted her upright. She weighed nothing.
‘Mrs Penney is in the kitchen,’ Jacob said. ‘Shall I fetch her?’
I shook my head. ‘Let her get on, I’ll see to Xanthe and then I’ll phone Dr Jago.’
It was odd that I didn’t mind carrying out the most intimate care for Xanthe, this little sister whom I’d despaired of and even loathed for a good part of my adult life. Again I remembered her as a child, a child who’d held my hand when we’d walked by the sea and who wanted me to tell her not to be afraid. Love and sympathy were my abiding emotions that morning, as I gently washed her and put her into a clean nightdress. She woke up and smiled sweetly at me.
‘Are we having a fitting for new clothes,’ she whispered, as I lifted her wasted arm into the sleeve of her nightdress. ‘Oh, I do hope so. I like pink. Tell Mummy I must have pink.’
‘I’m going to get you a cup of tea and some bread and butter,’ I said, after I’d combed her hair. ‘Then Dr Jago will come to see you.’
‘All right,’ she nodded and gave a bubbly little cough. I held my breath, watching her, but her cough was so weak that only a small trickle of blood coloured her lips and I wiped it away with the flannel.
‘Here,’ I said, putting the bell into her hand. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
Mrs Penney was in the kitchen.
‘How is she?’
‘Not good,’ I sighed. ‘I just telephoned the doctor. Can you get me a tray with tea and bread and butter?’
‘I will. Then you must tell me what went on here last night. I hear that the police were at the house.’
‘I saw a prowler, but they wouldn’t believe me. There was a man standing in the front garden when I came home from the dance. I think he was connected to the two women staying at the pub.’
‘The police might not believe you, but I do.’
I glanced at Mrs Penney, who continued, ‘T
here are two great big footprints in the flower bed under the window. I noticed them when I walked up to the house.’
‘Oh,’ I said and paused, wondering what more to say. ‘The thing is, Mrs Penney, and I can’t tell you how I know it, but I think the man and those two women may be after Xanthe’s little boy.’
She gasped and quickly looked over her shoulder as though Monica and Jane might be about to burst through the door.
‘Don’t worry.’ I tried to reassure her, showing a confidence I didn’t feel myself. ‘We’ll keep a lookout and now that the police have been told, I’m sure they’ll investigate.’
‘Well,’ she gave herself a little shake. ‘I’ll tell ’em in the village to watch out for those people. We won’t let them get up here, if we can help it.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Penney. Now, I’ll take that tray.’
Dr Jago came upstairs while I was feeding Xanthe. She’d managed a few sips of tea and, with encouragement, took a bite of bread and was mechanically chewing it. ‘I’ll wear my Schiaparelli tonight,’ she said.
‘Will you?’ I stared at her. ‘What for?’
‘The Embassy ball, of course, you dolt. What are you wearing? Something dull, I expect. You have absolutely no idea how to dress. For goodness’ sake, Seffy, go and buy a new frock.’
Once I would have scowled at her and told her to mind her own business, but now, realising sadly that she was drifting in and out of confusion, I simply chuckled and was glad to see her smiling too. When Jago came in, he grinned. ‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘Two sisters lazing around inside when it’s a lovely day. It’s time you got better, Xanthe Blake.’
‘Hello, Doctor,’ Xanthe murmured. ‘Have you transferred to London now?’
He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. I shook my head.
‘Well, Xanthe.’ He took out his stethoscope. ‘Let’s have a listen.’
She fell asleep before he’d finished examining her and when we spoke on the landing, his face was sad and serious. ‘I won’t dress this up, Seffy. Your poor sister hasn’t long now. Her heart is failing, she’s confused, and she’s bleeding from her lungs. It’ll be a day, two at the most. You must prepare yourself.’
‘I am prepared,’ I muttered. ‘As much as one can be.’ He heard the catch in my throat and put an arm around my shoulder.
‘I’ll come back this evening,’ he said. ‘Go and have a cup of tea or coffee now, you look all in. I’ve heard about the excitement last night from Mr Weiss. Are you still worried?’
I nodded. ‘I am, but the police don’t seem to be. They think I’m imagining it.’
‘And you don’t think it’s because you’re upset about Xanthe? Are things getting on top of you?’
‘No, they’re not,’ I said firmly.
‘All right.’ He walked to the staircase. ‘I believe you. I’ve read enough of your articles to know that you’ve been in danger and do recognise it when you see it. I know a few people in Truro. I’ll get in touch with them. Now, I must be off. See you this afternoon. It’ll be about five.’
It occurred to me after he’d gone that I hadn’t seen the children that morning, so I ran downstairs. They were in the kitchen with Alice and Mrs Penney, having their breakfast. ‘It’s a lovely day,’ said Alice. ‘Quite warm for the time of year, so I think I’ll take these two on the beach this afternoon. It’ll give you a break and maybe you can have a sleep.’
‘Yes, good idea.’
I took over helping Marisol with her bowl of porridge and warm milk and she rewarded me with a bright, cheeky smile. I laughed and gave her a kiss and then dropped one on Max’s blond head. ‘Is Kitty up yet?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Mrs Penney said. ‘She’s gone down the village to get some messages for me. And,’ she looked at the door to see if Jacob was about, ‘I did hear that she was dancing with the same boy most of the evening. Joe Feather’s lad, he is. On leave from the navy. But don’t worry, he’s a nice boy, or was before he went away.’
I looked at Alice and she shook her head. ‘Miss Kitty’s growing up. What is she now? Fourteen, fifteen? There’s nothing much you can do, but I’ll have a word with her, if you like.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ I sighed.
Before lunch I took the children in to see Xanthe. She was awake, staring out of the long windows, which I’d opened earlier to try and cool her down. The nets were dancing in the slight breeze and the smell of the ocean filled the room.
‘I’ve brought Max and Marisol to see you,’ I smiled.
Slowly she turned her head towards us and looked at the children. ‘How sweet,’ she said. ‘Are they from the village? Did Mrs Penney bring them?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘These are our children. This is your little boy.’ I put Max on the bed beside her, where, stronger now, he sat up with his thumb in his mouth.
Xanthe looked down at him and then gave a weak grin. ‘Silly Seff. How could I have a little boy? You’re playing a prank on me.’
‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘Don’t you remember. You and Wolf. You had his baby.’
‘Wolf?’ She looked away to the window. ‘I think I met a Wolf once,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘He had a nice uniform. It was black. Was he at Monte?’
Her eyelids were drooping and I took the children out of the room. A thought occurred to me then. When Xanthe died, who would be the legal guardian of baby Max? As far as I knew, von Klausen was still alive, but, then again, Max hadn’t yet been registered. I held him close. He would be mine. He and Marisol. Brother and sister.
The telephone was ringing when I came back downstairs after leaving the children in the nursery with Alice. ‘Hello,’ I said wearily, too exhausted to care who was calling.
‘Hello, Blake.’
‘Charlie?’ My heart did a few somersaults and I grasped the receiver more tightly as though I was holding on to his lapels. ‘Oh, Charlie,’ I cried. ‘I can’t tell you how I’ve longed to hear your voice.’
‘That’s what a man likes to hear.’
I pictured the grin on his face and laughed. ‘Oh, God, I’ve wondered every day where you were and if you were safe.’
‘I’m back in London and quite safe, dearest Blake. But listen, I haven’t much time, I’m getting the train down to you; I’ll be in Truro tonight. We’ve heard about your visitor and that bloody Monica and her pal are with him. We’re taking it very seriously. You should see the police back at the house within the hour.’
I felt tears coming to my eyes. ‘Thank God,’ I whispered. ‘And, Charlie; Xanthe’s dying.’
There was a short silence, then, ‘I’ll be with you, Seffy. I’ll hold your hand. I’m yours, for ever.’
‘And I, yours,’ I breathed.
When I went into the kitchen, Mrs Penney told me that there was a policeman standing by the front gate. ‘I’m glad to see him,’ she said fervently. ‘I’ll take him a sandwich and some tea.’
Xanthe slept through lunch and I didn’t bother to wake her. I stayed in her room, reading a book and listening to her laboured breathing, occasionally standing up and walking through the long windows on to the veranda. In the afternoon Alice took the children down to the beach and I watched them. Max was so much livelier now, banging a little shovel on a tin bucket, while Marisol toddled down to the sea. A white motorboat was cruising slowly around the headland and into the bay and I watched it for a while and then went back in, to Xanthe. She was coughing, too weak to empty her lungs, but the constant racking motion produced larger and larger trickles of blood.
‘I think I’ve got summer flu,’ she gasped, before suddenly closing her eyes. I held my breath, staring at her. Oh God, I thought. Is this it? Has she died? But no. Her chest was rising and falling jerkily and I saw that she was only asleep. It was almost too much to bear and I walked back to the veranda and looked out again to the beach.
It was different. The motorboat had come closer in, rocking at anchor on the far side of our small bay and now there was a dinghy near the shore. A man wa
s standing beside it. I frowned. Who dared come on to our beach? Couldn’t they see the ‘Private’ notices?
I looked for Alice and the children and after a few seconds saw Alice between the rocks, close to the steps. She’d obviously strolled up there ready to bring the children in for their tea, but now she was lying down, with Marisol sitting beside her. Marisol was banging her little fists on Alice’s chest and then turning to point down the beach. I followed her hand and choked back a breath. Monica Cathcart was walking quickly along the shoreline with Max in her arms.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I RAN. OFF the veranda and down the stone steps to the beach. I was racing so fast that that I nearly fell, just managing to grab the railing with one flailing hand to stop myself tumbling over and on to the rocks at the bottom.
‘Jacob!’ I screamed as I ran, ‘Mrs Penney! Get the policeman!’ I didn’t stop to see if they’d heard me. I leapt off the bottom step and ran to where Alice was lying, unconscious. Marisol, tears streaking her face, held her arms up to me and I knelt down and picked her up.
‘It’s all right,’ I crooned, holding her close. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart.’ I looked at Alice. She was beginning to move, moaning with pain, and when she struggled to sit up, I saw a bloodied gash on the back of her head.
‘My God,’ she groaned, putting a hand up to her concussed head. ‘It hurts.’
I looked along the beach. Monica had seen me and was trying to run towards the dinghy. Max’s thin wail echoed back, sounding like that of the seagulls as they followed the fishing boats. I had to get him.
Jacob was at the top of the steps, on his way down, and I thrust Marisol into Alice’s arms. ‘Hold her,’ I said, ‘Jacob’s coming to help.’ Kicking off my shoes, I started after Monica and my little boy.
She was a city person, not used to running and her steps were short, sand clogging in her high-heeled shoes, and stride by stride I began to near her. The man suddenly looked up and I realised it was Karl. Swearing, he turned round and shoved the dinghy back into the surf. Monica glanced over her shoulder, her face white and terrified to see what had caused this, and so did I. The policeman was running down the steps, followed by Kitty and another officer.
What Tomorrow Brings Page 42