Nobody’s Girl

by Tania Crosse

  Nathaniel’s brow beetled into a frown. ‘Maybe she got some compensation from the accident. Bloody hell. And there’s us… But, look, at least we’ve got a roof over our heads. Of sorts. So, make yourself comfortable.’

  He laced his arms about her, drawing him towards her and placing his lips on hers. Oh, you little beauty. Perhaps there was more advantage in playing up to Esme than just having her in his bed until he tired of her. She could prove very useful to him in taking revenge on Meg Chandler. But, oh, what joy it would be to get his hands on the bitch’s money into the bargain! And then Esme Carter could go to hell.

  Nathaniel’s brain began scheming. Perhaps he could see to it that Meg had a little accident. Not too serious. He didn’t want her dead. If she died, whatever money she had would go… well, who knew where, but certainly not into his pocket. No. He just wanted to see her pay in kind for the misery she’d caused him. And while he gloated over the pain he caused her, he could think up a way to relieve her of her money.

  Salivating at the idea, he drew Esme down onto the bed.

  *

  ‘Go on, go on! Keep pedalling!’

  Ralph’s voice echoed in Meg’s ears as she wobbled down the driveway on the bicycle that now gleamed like new after Ralph had helped her to rub it down and repaint it. He’d replaced the perished tyres and put on new brake blocks, and then helped her to learn to ride it. She’d been trying to master it for a week or so, getting her sense of balance. She was nearly there, Ralph running along beside her now with merely a steadying hand on the back of the saddle.

  She was gathering speed, keeping the bike in a steady line and feeling, at last, in control. She could hear Ralph’s footfall accelerating on the compacted surface of the drive as he flew along beside her. All at once, it slowed and faded, and Meg realised he’d let go. And for the first time, she felt she wasn’t going to fall off or come to an erratic halt with both feet scraping along the ground. She was going to do it, and she’d only stop when she – and not the bicycle – wanted to!

  Euphoria whisked through her, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as the air rushed past, sweeping her hair back in a gilded stream. A sense of liberty struck her like a bullet. Now she’d been given the freedom to go anywhere she pleased. She could ride into Tunbridge Wells if she fancied it, or back to the village churchyard where her parents were buried without having to ask Ralph to take her in the van – even if she did enjoy his company nowadays. Above all, she could wander the countryside where she was brought up and which she loved so much. And as Thimble grew bigger and stronger, she’d train her to run alongside. She could even take up the invitation to visit her old home again, something she hadn’t done since Ralph had taken her there on her birthday the previous year.

  She almost felt disappointed when she reached the end of the drive. She applied the brakes gently, but instead of stopping completely, felt confident enough to try turning in a semicircle. She wobbled a little, but managed to keep upright until she was facing the other way and was able to start pedalling back towards Ralph who was waving and cheering her on. She braked carefully, stopping safely beside him.

  ‘I did it! I did it!’ she cried joyously, lifting her leg over the crossbar.

  ‘Oh, well done!’

  Ralph’s eyes were glinting with pride at his pupil, and before Meg knew it, he was hugging her tightly. She laughed up at him as he finally let go of her, both grinning at each other and catching their breath from the exertion.

  ‘I can go wherever I want now,’ Meg crowed in jubilation.

  ‘Well, I’d get a bit more practice in before you start going off on your own,’ Ralph advised. ‘But at least I won’t have to bust a gut running along beside you anymore.’

  ‘Oh, you!’ Meg dug him playfully in the ribs. ‘But seriously, thanks ever so much for helping me. You’ve been a brick.’

  ‘Glad to be of service, milady. And I’m glad you’ve seen the better side of my nature at last.’

  His mouth was still stretched in a broad smile, but Meg could feel the flush in her cheeks and had to gird up her courage. ‘Am I forgiven for being so rotten to you in the past?’ she ventured to ask.

  ‘All forgiven and forgotten. So let’s go forward now. Friends?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  Meg turned the bicycle round, swung her leg back over the crossbar, and after a few wobbling yards, was off down the driveway again, completely on her own.

  ‘I’d wear trousers next time if I were you, mind!’ Ralph called after her. ‘You’ve got lovely legs, but someone else might get the wrong idea.’

  But Meg didn’t hear him. His words were lost on the breeze rushing past her face.

  Bob was painting the inside of one of the bedroom windows and paused to look down on them. He’d noticed there was something going on between Meg and Ralph, some spark between them they were unaware of themselves. Maybe he was wrong, but only time would tell.

  Sadly he dipped the brush in the paint pot once again.

  *

  Meg was humming to herself as she came back into the house after seeing to the animals for the morning. The sun was already warm as it blazed down from a blue sky dabbed with cotton-wool clouds. She’d have liked to get out her watercolours and paint it as she had the rest of the day off until it was time for evening milking, but she had other plans. Plans that made her spirits soar.

  She put down the two pails of milk to open the servants’ door, and let herself inside. She loved milking the cows by hand, leaning into their soft, warm flanks. Not as efficient as a milking machine, of course, but with only two cows it wasn’t a problem. And as she was so careful, the milk was just as clean, but it would still be filtered before being stored in the refrigerator for the day.

  ‘Ah, Meg.’ Nana May’s voice greeted her as she went into the kitchen where the house staff were gathered around the table. ‘I was just introducing our new housemaid. Sally, this is Meg. She’s in charge of the farming side of the estate, but she doubles up as our parlourmaid. So she’ll show you the ropes.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Sally.’ Meg smiled at the strapping young girl who beamed back at her. ‘But, Nana May, it’s my day off today.’

  ‘Well, never mind. Sally will take time to find her way around, and Mrs Phillips can explain things to her. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of our staff if you have any questions, Sally. You’ll find them a friendly bunch.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’ Sally spoke for the first time. ‘Last place I worked, they were all so stuck up, you’d think they didn’t know how to smile. Now, show me where the dusters are kept, and put me to work. What sort of polish d’you use? Prefer beeswax myself. Takes a bit more elbow grease, but you get such a lovely sheen with it, and it smells so nice.’

  Meg noticed the others exchanging glances, and tried not to do so herself. What a change from sullen Esme! The new girl appeared a happy, willing soul, and as she grinned round at everyone, dimples popped into her ruddy cheeks. She was pretty in a down-to-earth way, and Meg saw the smile on Bob’s face reach his eyes as he nodded a greeting to her.

  ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me,’ Meg smiled at everyone in general, ‘I need to get changed. I’ll see you all later this afternoon. Enjoy your first day, Sally.’

  ‘Thank you. And you enjoy your time off.’

  Oh, well, that was a good start, Meg considered as she went up to the room she still shared with Jane, who hadn’t seemed too disappointed that she hadn’t been promoted to housemaid. Perhaps she secretly didn’t want the responsibility, Meg had wondered. But as for the new maid, anyone would be better than Esme, but this Sally seemed like a breath of fresh air. And fresh air was something Meg was going to get a lot of today.

  She changed into some lightweight slacks and a plain, short-sleeved blouse. It didn’t look as if she’d need a cardigan, but she took one anyway, carefully folded and slipped into a bag she wore across her shoulder. Then she hurried down to the farmyard where her restored bicyc
le was waiting in the barn.

  ‘You look as if you’ve got a plan for the day,’ Ralph said as she wheeled it outside.

  ‘I have,’ she grinned back. ‘I’m going back to the farm.’

  ‘Really?’ Ralph’s eyebrows reached up to his hairline. ‘Well, that’s the furthest you’ll ever have been on the bike. So have a lovely time, but you be careful.’

  ‘I will. Keep an eye on Thimble for me, won’t you?’ And for some reason she couldn’t quite comprehend, she reached up and placed a kiss on Ralph’s cheek.

  She didn’t wait for his reaction. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. It was innocent enough, but in case Ralph thought anything of it, she quickly swung her leg over the crossbar and pedalled round the side of the house. She had to go slowly round the corners and was delighted with herself that she’d managed to control the bike at such a low speed which was so much harder than going faster. Feeling pleased with herself, she cycled down the drive and turned out onto the lane.

  The tarmac was so much smoother beneath the wheels and she turned the pedals faster. The summer air caressed her cheeks, running its fingers through her hair, and her heart lifted.

  She raced on through the lanes, exhilarated by the speed and the wind rushing past her face. Oh, this was freedom, at last! Freedom to let her thoughts wander, to soak up the peace of the countryside.

  On and on she went, the roads becoming more familiar, her heart beating with excitement and exertion. She’d passed the place, but the horror of what had happened there was fading. Now she wasn’t so far away from the farm. Just down the hill and round the bend, and the village would be no more than ten minutes away.

  She let the bicycle free-wheel down the long, steep slope, her head muzzy with the thrill of speed. She took her feet off the pedals and raised her legs out to the side. It was almost like flying, flying back to the place that in her heart was still home.

  She felt disappointed as she neared the bottom. She’d have to brake now for the bend, and putting her feet back on the pedals, she squeezed her hands around the brake levers. Oh. Squeeze harder. Oh, God. Still nothing happened. Squeezed even tighter, as far as they’d go. She could hear a horrible, squealing sound, like metal grinding on metal. Her heart was pounding now, sweat oozing from every pore. The wheels were still whizzing round, even faster.

  The bend was rocketing towards her. If she could get round it, the ground sloped upwards and would slow her breakneck flight. She turned the handlebars to the right. Fear thundered inside her skull, she could taste it in her mouth. She instinctively put out her left foot to slide along the ground and help her round the bend. But as she did so, she felt the bicycle tip beneath her. She just couldn’t stop, and knew she was going. She tried to put out her hands as she smacked onto the tarmac and slithered across its hard, gritty surface until she came to an abrupt stop in the grass verge.

  She lay there, stunned, hearing only the clatter as the bike fell to the ground and slid to a halt in the middle of the road. Meg closed her eyes tight, waiting for the world to stop spinning. She felt strange, unreal. And then she lifted her head.

  The rear wheel of the bicycle was still spinning, making a whirring sound as it gradually slowed. She must get up and move it before a car came round the bend and hit it. Dear God, she didn’t want another accident like the one… But as she clambered to her feet, pain screamed up her left wrist making her yelp and cradle it to her chest. And when she looked down, there was blood and grit right up her arm where she’d scraped across the tarmac.

  A whimper broke from her throat. Oh, God. But she had to get the bike off the road. She forced herself to retrieve it, hot tears of pain and anger stinging her eyes. She’d been going too fast. But the brakes should have worked, and they didn’t.

  So much for the wonderful day out she’d planned. Could she get back on the bike? But she couldn’t if the brakes weren’t working, and besides, her wrist hurt too much. There was only one thing for it. She must hobble the remaining distance into the village and use the telephone box. So she set off, wincing at every movement of her wrist, and steering the bicycle with just the one hand.

  *

  The relief when she saw the van coming round the green towards her almost made her tears start afresh. But she’d had time to think while she’d waited. Anger bit into her heart as Ralph jumped out of the van and ran over to her, his face burning with concern. As well it might be!

  ‘Meg, what on earth happened?’ he cried. ‘Oh, God, look at your arm. You’ve taken half the skin off. And are you hurt anywhere else?’

  ‘My wrist,’ she moaned. ‘And down my leg. Thank God I had trousers on or it could have been like my arm.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus.’ Ralph ran his hand through his hair. ‘Let me see your wrist. Look, it’s swelling already, and turning blue. I think it could be broken. Let’s get you in the van and I’ll take you to the hospital.’

  ‘I can manage,’ she snapped, as he went to help her. ‘You can’t have done the brakes properly. Nothing happened when I put them on.’

  ‘What? No! I know I did them properly, and they’ve been perfectly fine until now.’

  ‘Well, they didn’t work when I really needed them at the bottom of the hill!’

  Ralph frowned. ‘Let’s not argue. First thing is to get you to the hospital. You get in and I’ll put the bike in the back.’

  Meg obeyed. She was too shaken really to fight with him anyway. The throbbing agony in her wrist was worsening, and she sat in the passenger seat in silence, biting her lip against the pain.

  *

  Two hours later, Meg walked unsteadily down the corridor towards him, her plastered wrist in a sling and the rest of her arm swathed in a dressing. She saw Ralph’s face screw up in sympathy as he got to his feet.

  ‘How can I do my work like this?’ she said tersely. ‘Six weeks I’m going to be out of action. And it’s all your fault.’

  ‘No. No, it’s not.’ Ralph’s tone was grave. ‘I’ve looked at the bike while I’ve been waiting. Did you have to use the brakes much before you got to the hill?’

  Meg frowned as she tried to think back. There was something in Ralph’s voice that made her nervous. ‘No, not really. It’s mainly flat or uphill until then. And when I needed to slow down, I just stopped pedalling. Why?’

  ‘Because someone tampered with the brakes. All four brake pads are missing. Now you might be unlucky and lose one, but all four? And it looks as if someone’s prised open the brake shoes with a screwdriver or something, as if they were in a hurry.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Meg, I’m worried. I’m not letting you out of my sight from now on.’

  Meg stared at him, her jaw dropping open. It wasn’t over, was it? There was still someone out there. And as she faltered in her step, Ralph’s strong arm came around her waist to steady her, and she leant gratefully against him.

  Thirty-Three

  ‘You seem a bit edgy today. You should be happy, with your wrist healed and everything getting back to normal.’

  Meg glanced back at Ralph as he carefully cut the very last of the roses and passed them into her waiting hands. It was so sad to be gathering the last of the summer’s glory to display in vases inside the house, but it was just into October so it was only to be expected. There’d be other flowers, of course, but none that had the heady scent of roses to waft about the rooms.

  ‘But it’s not getting back to normal, is it?’ she answered, twisting her lips as she watched Ralph work. ‘I know the police found nothing—’

  ‘Yes, clever devil whoever sabotaged your bike. No fingerprints, footprints or anything. But it wasn’t just an accident. And I still think Esme Carter was involved somehow. But the police couldn’t trace her anywhere.’

  ‘I know. And that doesn’t help. I keep looking over my shoulder all the time, even though you’re all trying to protect me.’

  ‘But, why are you on edge today particularly? You haven’t seen anything, have you?’ Ralph�
�s voice was sharp with alarm.

  But Meg shook her head. ‘No. It’s just that Mr W’s gone over to Westerham to talk to Mr Churchill.’

  Ralph’s face darkened. ‘You read about Churchill’s tremendous speech, then, against the Munich Agreement the other day? When he said it was shameful that Britain and France have just handed Hitler most of Czechoslovakia on a plate? Well, I have to say, I think he’s right. It’s downright immoral.’

  ‘I know. Just think of those poor people, and the Austrians, having their country taken over by… some maniac dictator. And so many people here are praising Chamberlain for obtaining peace!’

  ‘Huh! Wishful thinking if you ask me.’ Ralph paused as he handed her the final bloom. ‘I agree with Churchill. All we’ve done is give in to Hitler’s power, and it’s merely putting off the inevitable.’

  ‘War for all of us, you mean?’ Meg felt the fear scorch into her throat. ‘And deep down, I reckon the government’s not that sure of itself anyway. Why else would they already be digging trenches in London’s parks and in other cities, and installing anti-aircraft guns? And they’ve just started distributing gas masks. And now this morning, Mr W’s gone to speak to Mr Churchill to see if he can get contracted to make shell cases or whatever in the factory again.’

  Ralph eyed Meg keenly as he wiped the secateurs and put them away in his pocket. ‘I know things aren’t looking good, but try not to worry about it, eh?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t help but worry about it. The last war was so awful. What on earth will happen to all of us here if there’s another one?’

  She saw Ralph’s face tighten and he forced a half smile. ‘Well, let’s just hope that I and Mr W and Winston Churchill are wrong, eh? And let’s have that lovely smile instead of a frown, shall we?’

  Meg nodded, bending her head to breathe in the sweet aroma of the roses. When she looked up again, the smile she gave Ralph was wistful and uncertain. She, too, prayed that Mr W and Churchill and his supporters were wrong. But she had the most appalling feeling that they weren’t.