Beware This Boy

by Maureen Jennings

  “Do you have any idea what might have set off the explosion?”

  Wolf shrugged. “All materials very dangerous.”

  “Were you in Section B at all yesterday?”

  “Yes. I do the clean in between shifts. Wipe floor. I wipe the floor to make sure no powder is there.”

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Tyler could hear himself raising his voice again. He didn’t think Wolfsiewicz was deaf, but he spoke so carefully and listened so intently Tyler began to wonder if this was a possibility.

  “Two men working at that bench. Not usual. Is that what you mean?”

  “Anything else?”

  This time the cleaner raised his eyes and looked into Tyler’s. His eyes were grey-blue and again Tyler had the impression of age. Not necessarily wisdom, but too much life experience for such a young man.

  “I cannot help, I regret. I did my work.”

  “Did you speak to the men?”

  Wolfsiewicz paused. “I exchanged only happinesses.”

  Tyler thought he meant pleasantries, but he rather liked Wolf’s version. He tried a different tack. “I understand you are from Poland.”

  Wolf nodded but Tyler felt the tension that immediately came over him.

  “I hear Warsaw is a beautiful city,” he continued.

  For the first time there was a flash of animation on Wolfsiewicz’s thin face. “Not now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Loss of freedom make all things ugly, Inspector.”

  Tyler was startled by the response, which was unexpectedly poetic. Ironically, a few years into their marriage he’d tried to persuade Vera to go there for a visit, but she refused. Too far, too foreign, strange language, strange food. They ended up going to Torquay. He often wondered if Vera suspected that Tyler’s curiosity about Warsaw had to do with Clare Somerville. She was right, of course. Clare had spent time there as a young woman and spoke of it fondly.

  He realized the caretaker was watching him warily. Tyler held out his hand. “Thank you, sir. If anything comes to you, anything at all, please let me know.”

  The Pole’s grip was tentative, his fingers cold.

  Cudmore watched him leave. “That poor chap always puts me in mind of Father Edmund Campion.”

  “Campion? Oh, you’re right. The Jesuit priest who was executed by one of Queen Bess’s lackeys.”

  “That’s the one. He suffered a hideous death. He was one of those hung, drawn, and quartered.”

  “God, I remember finding a book about martyrs. Illustrated. Ghastly thing.”

  “Are you a Catholic, sir?”

  “Not me. Church of England to the core.”

  “I read that same book you mention. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs was the title. I was fascinated by it. I was raised in the old faith, so my morbidity passed for piety,” said Cudmore ruefully.

  Another surprising statement.

  “It all seems such nonsense from our perspective, doesn’t it, sir,” he went on. “Who has the true faith and all that. But I suppose our loyalty is now called upon in a different way. And we punish the disloyal just as severely.”

  Tyler nodded. He felt at something of a loss. Cudmore was revealing hidden depths.

  “Speaking of which, why was Wolf imprisoned by the Germans?”

  “I don’t really know, sir. He told me he had disagreed with some edict of the Nazis and he was termed anti-social. He might have been a communist, although he hasn’t admitted to that. He was lucky he was released, from what I’ve heard.” Cudmore closed his notebook and snapped the elastic band around it. “I’ll start transcribing my notes so far. I’ll have them ready for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cudmore. You have been invaluable.” Tyler got to his feet. “I’m going to stop by the hospital to see if I can speak to Peter Pavely. We’ll resume in the morning.”

  The matron on the men’s ward at St. Elizabeth’s was even more formidable than Nurse Ruebotham.

  “Mr. Aston is still in a coma, Inspector,” she said to Tyler with a frown. “He cannot have any visitors. Mr. Pavely has been seriously injured and must not be disturbed unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  “Believe me, Matron, I would not disturb him unless, in my humble opinion as an officer of the law, it was absolutely necessary to ask him a few questions.”

  She hardly yielded. “Very well. But I can only allow ten minutes. These patients are my responsibility.”

  She led him down the ward. Like Sylvia and Audrey, the two injured men had been put at the far end of the ward and their beds were both screened off.

  The matron, whose name tag said she was B. Poltin, pulled back the screen so that Tyler could get close to the bed. Pavely turned his head. One eye was bandaged, the other so swollen it was a mere slit.

  “This is Inspector Tyler,” said the matron. “He wishes to ask you some questions about the accident. Are you able to do so?”

  “Yes, I am.” He held out his hand to Tyler. “Glad to see you, in a manner of speaking, that is. Ask away.”

  “Can you tell me what happened yesterday? From your point of view, that is.”

  “Wish to hell I knew,” said Pavely. “Last thing I remember I was fitting a piece of lino onto the bench. It had come loose and me and Doug Aston were fixing it. That’s it. Next thing I know, I’m in this hospital with a bloody bandage on my head.” He managed to glance over at the matron, who had stationed herself at the foot of the bed. “I’m not swearing, Matron. That’s what it is, a bloody bandage.”

  Pavely shifted his head so he could fix his good eye on Tyler. “They’re keeping very mum about what happened, Inspector, but I gather it was serious.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Fatalities?”

  Before Tyler could reply the matron interrupted him. He was starting to think of it as a nurse’s reflex.

  “All in good time, Mr. Pavely. For now it’s better that the inspector ask the questions.”

  “I gather that’s a yes,” said Pavely. “Was it my mate? Did Doug get it?”

  Tyler patted the man’s hand. “Listen, old chap, the matron will fill you in later. I can tell you, though, your mate wasn’t killed.”

  “Thank God for that,” muttered Pavely. “He’s a good bloke.”

  “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what caused the explosion,” continued Tyler. “Do you have any idea why the fuses blew up?”

  He thought Pavely had closed his eye but it was hard to tell. “Not the foggiest.”

  “Do you remember the women doing anything unusual?”

  “No. They hadn’t come in yet.”

  Tyler didn’t want to distress him any more by revealing the truth. He’d encountered this kind of amnesia before. It was the mind’s way of protecting itself. Pavely would hear in good time what had happened.

  The bloodshot eye focused on him. “I’m not going to wake up and find out it was my fault, am I?”

  Tyler patted his arm. “Not a chance. Now get some rest.”

  He looked in on Sylvia on his way out but she was asleep. “Resting comfortably,” said Nurse Ruebotham. Audrey Sandilands was still on the critical list and the nurse shook her head when Tyler enquired about her. “No change,” she said. He thought that was nurse-speak for We don’t hold out much hope.

  If he had been a religious man, he would have said a prayer for the two young women.

  It didn’t seem right to go through the charade of celebrating Beatrice’s birthday as if there was nothing the matter, when everything was the matter. Eileen waited until Ted and Phyllis had got settled, hats and coats off, hands warmed, and sitting down.

  Then she told them about their Brian. Neither of them said a word at first, then Ted spoke. “Am I hearing you right? You’re sitting here cool as a cucumber telling us that Brian has run away from the army and is hiding out in this house?” He jumped up as if he was going to run upstairs and confront Brian on the spot. Joe grabbed his arm and pulled him
back into his seat.

  “Nobody’s cool here, Ted, but going off half-cocked isn’t going to help anybody, least of all Brian. We’ve got to talk about what to do.”

  “What d’you mean? Isn’t he going to turn himself in?”

  “He doesn’t want to do that, no.”

  Phyllis had looked up at the ceiling when Eileen said Brian was upstairs but she hadn’t moved. She sat, still and pale-faced.

  “Dad, did he come here first?”

  “He was actually hiding out in a bombed-out house down the road a couple of streets. He’d been there since Friday. Young Jack found him and brought him here.”

  “Our Jack?”

  Joe nodded.

  “He never said a word to us,” burst out Ted.

  “We made him promise not to until we sorted things out,” said Eileen.

  “Is Brian all right?” Phyllis asked finally. Her voice was flat and expressionless.

  “Physically he’s well enough,” said Joe. “Just exhausted, but mentally he’s not too good.” He nodded over at Eileen. “Your sister can talk about that.”

  “Look, Ted, Phyl, I know this is a terrible shock. It was to us as well. But Mum and Dad and me have had a talk. Brian is adamant he’s not going to turn himself in. If he’s caught and tried as a deserter, it could go very badly for him.” She paused, not wanting to be cruel but needing to let them know what was at stake. “The army considers desertion a serious crime …”

  They both stared at her. Phyllis reached for her husband’s hand but he ignored her.

  Eileen continued. “We don’t know how long the war will last, nobody does. The three of us here are willing to hide him until such time as it’s all over. But in the meantime we’ll need help with food. We’d have to share our rations.”

  “Jesus,” said Ted. “We can barely make do ourselves. How can we support another mouth?”

  “We can do it if we’re careful,” said Beatrice.

  “And I’ll thank you to watch your language, Ted,” said Joe.

  “The question is, do you want to?” Eileen addressed both her sister and brother-in-law, but they all knew it was Ted who had to be convinced.

  Phyllis pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and clutched at it. “Of course we want to. But how did it come to this? What did he say?”

  “You can ask him yourself if you like. Shall I call him down?”

  “No, wait a bleeding minute,” exclaimed Ted. “I’m not ready to talk to him. I’ve got to get some facts straight first … In my book cowards run away from their duty, and I don’t hold no truck with cowards. Brian has got a lot of explaining to do, if you ask me.”

  “Are you saying you’d turn in your own son?” Phyllis cried.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Phyllis. All I’m saying is I’d like to hear his story before I make any decision. I’m a government employee, don’t forget. Do you realize that if we do cover up for him and he is found, we’re going to be in serious trouble ourselves?”

  “Yes, we do realize that, Ted,” said Joe. “And the three of us here are prepared to take the consequences. You can either leave it to us and keep your mouth shut or you can help out – or you can report him to the authorities.”

  Ted grunted.

  Phyllis turned to Eileen. “Does Vanessa know he’s here?”

  “Not yet. We thought it best to just start with the immediate family.”

  “I thought when they took their bleeding vows that made her family,” snapped Ted.

  It was Joe’s turn to raise his voice. “Look, Ted, I can understand you’re upset by this news, but I don’t allow cursing in this house in front of women.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” muttered Ted.

  “Would he stay here?” asked Phyllis.

  Beatrice answered that one. “This house is probably the best because we have that spare room.”

  Ted was leaning forward in his chair, his head in his hands. “He’s always been trouble, that boy, but I never dreamt he’d get this low. No moral fibre, that’s the problem. I always suspected that was the case and now I know.”

  Eileen had never been overly fond of her brother-in-law and right now she felt positive dislike. “There are many good men who crack under the strain of war. Perhaps you could hold judgement until you’ve spoken to him.”

  “Cowardice, I call it. And then to just land on Mum and Dad’s doorstep and expect they will take him in? Pure selfishness. But then he always was Brian first, wasn’t he.”

  Eileen suddenly became aware of footsteps on the stairs, too late to protect Brian from his father’s words. Brian opened the door and stood on the threshold. Now that he was cleaned up and shaved, he looked like the boy who had come to stay with them when he was fourteen.

  He tried to smile. “Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad. Sorry to be such a trouble.” He burst into racking sobs, half turning against the wall. Phyllis flew across the room and put her arms around him.

  “Oh, Brian. Don’t cry, son. We’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

  Ted stared at the floor.

  Phyllis stepped back. “Oh my, Brian, you’re freezing. Come over to the fire and get warm.”

  Still crying, Brian let his mother lead him to the chair by the hearth. As he passed his father, Ted reached out a tentative hand and patted his back. “Don’t take on so, Bri. We’re a family. We’ll sort it out.”

  Phyllis knelt beside her son, pressing his head into her shoulder.

  After a moment, Eileen went over to them and thrust a handkerchief into Brian’s hands. “Buck up, Bri. Where there’s life, there’s hope. At least we’ve got you alive.” She looked over at her father. “Dad, why don’t you and Ted get us some tea? You men can do it for a change. It is Mum’s birthday after all, and I think a piece of that cake you brought, Phyl, would be nice.”

  Clearly relieved to have something to do, the two men rose immediately and went into the kitchen.

  “I didn’t think Ted’d betray his own flesh and blood,” said Beatrice quietly to Eileen.

  Eileen hadn’t been at all sure which way Ted would jump, but she nodded. “When they come back, why don’t you open your presents. It’ll take our minds off things for a bit. After that we can go over the arrangements. All right with you, Brian?”

  He half grinned. “Thanks, Auntie.”

  Phyllis shifted slightly. “Ooh, I’m getting a cramp in my leg. I’d better stand up.”

  Brian clung to her for a moment before letting go, and she slid into the chair beside him. Childlike, he leaned his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair with one hand and wiped away her own tears with the other.

  The two men returned with the tea things, eyeing the women nervously. Neither man was comfortable with too much sloppy emotion.

  Eileen brought the presents over to her mother. They all oohed and aahed as each gift was revealed. A pair of knitted slippers from Ted and Phyllis; a box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray from Jack; a book from Eileen by one of Beatrice’s favourite writers, Georgette Heyer. Beatrice waited until the end to open the present from Joe, which turned out to be a pair of gold earrings.

  “Oh, Joe, they’re smashing. But where on earth will I get to wear them these days?”

  “Turn your card over and you’ll get an answer.”

  She did so and smiled in delight, reading, “ ‘For my wonderful wife, one voucher for two people to the Hippodrome, to be redeemed when she deems fit. Joe.’ How thoughtful.” She made him put his face close to hers and gave him a kiss.

  Eileen and Phyllis exchanged glances and spontaneously they clapped their hands. They knew how much their father disliked going out anywhere; it was indeed quite a sacrifice for him to do this for his wife. “Good for you, Dad. And you might even enjoy yourself.”

  Joe shifted in embarrassment. “Beattie deserves it. But I’m assuming they’ll fix it up before we go.” The music hall had been damaged in an October raid.

  “I don’t care if we have to sit on the bricks. If they’re p
utting on a show, we’ll go,” said Beatrice. “No excuses for you, Joe Abbott.”

  As she watched them all, Eileen could feel her throat grow tight with emotion. They still had a lot of hurdles to overcome. Ted had softened for the moment, but she didn’t know how long that would last. How long any of them would last, for that matter, when the reality of hiding another human being indefinitely hit them.

  “Note down the time of your call, sir, and where it’s going. All trunk calls have to be reported.”

  The Steelhouse Lane desk sergeant had obviously been dragged in from retirement for the duration and wasn’t happy about it. If he could pass on his resentment to others he would. However, Tyler did as he was asked without comment and waited while the operator connected him to Whitchurch.

  Sergeant Basil Gough answered.

  “Guffie? Tyler here. How are things going?”

  “It’s not easy without you, sir, but we’re struggling along.” As always, Sergeant Gough’s delivery was deadpan. “How is the investigation coming?”

  “I haven’t got much done yet. The factory’s closed down today so I only got to interview three people. Technically four, if you include a poor bugger who was working at the site. He’s lost his memory and one eye. Basically I’ve just walked around and tried to get a sense of the procedures. Damned if I could see anything obvious, except it was all bloody dangerous, if you ask me.” He paused. “You remember the Land Girls, Guffie? The ones billeted at the Somerville estate this past summer?”

  “Indeed I do, sir.”

  “Well, one of them moved to Brum not too long ago. Sylvia Sumner is her name. She’s one of the workers badly hurt in the explosion.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, sir.”

  “I went over to the hospital.” Tyler stopped for a moment. He was glad he was talking to somebody who knew him well. “It was shocking to see her, Guffie. She’s not much older than our Janet. Eighteen at the most. Part of one arm and a hand were blown off.”

  “Poor lassie. Could she shed any light on what happened?”

  “Not so far, but she’s pretty doped up. I’ll go back. But why I’m calling is because I’m going to need some help. The plods here are spread as thin as jam on bread. I want to get young Eagleton over here. Do you think that’s possible?”