The Blitz Business

by D. A. Spruzen

  “Oh, is that what you’re wearing out?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it didn’t come out right.

  “Oh, Mummy. We’re only going for a picnic. Everyone’s wearing them!” Rosie frowned, her day’s beginning pricked by irritation.

  “Yes, dear, but we always seem to run into people we know. People talk.” Audrey knew she sounded imperious, but she couldn’t help herself. Like her mother before her.

  “You’re so old fashioned.” Rosie glowered at her.

  Jamie had been looking from one to the other, clearly puzzled. “Why are you both so cross? You look pretty today, Rosie. And Lady Audrey, you look pretty too. But you look a different pretty. Are you supposed to look more the same?”

  “How do we look different pretty, Jamie?” Rosie asked, trying to hide an unwilling smile.

  “Well, Lady Audrey looks like she spent a long time getting ready. I’ve seen Gran put her hair up and it took ages. And it wasn’t anything like so nice as that when she got finished.”

  “Don’t I look as if I spent a lot of time getting ready?” Rosie asked.

  “Well, you look like you made it more easy. You don’t bother with a lot of things. Your hair is shiny on its own. You don’t have lots of things.”

  “Things?” Rosie asked.

  “Yes, you know. Sparkly things. Ladies look nice with sparkly things, but they don’t really need them for pretty. If they are clean and smell nice. If they keep tidy. If they act sweet and kind. You can look at them and see they are pretty ladies. You are both pretty ladies. Just different sorts of pretty ladies. Everybody’s different, remember, Rosie? That’s a good thing. Mostly.”

  Jamie puffed a bit after his long speech, and the women laughed as their tiff evaporated.

  “You’re wiser than both of us, Jamie,” said Lady Audrey. “Well, off we go!”

  Rosie drove and they let Jamie sit in the front seat next to her. Audrey watched them chat—so comfortable together—as they made their way to Highcliffe. The beach there was sandy, unlike at Barton, which had a stony shoreline that could turn your ankles. And, too, it nestled in a small bay, sheltered by cliffs—perhaps the biggest benefit of Highcliffe’s beach from Audrey’s point of view, for April breezes were apt to be chilly. As the clouds parted and rejoined, the intermittent sunshine and green-budded trees struck Audrey as almost offensively at odds with the brutality and agony across the water. She found spring and its promise an uplifting time of the year, yet a sliver of sorrow always seemed to lie in wait to puncture her bubble. She had no loved ones at the front, but she couldn’t shake off the fear that the front might soon be at their doorstep.

  Rosie and Jamie talked about what they might find at the beach.

  “You know we can’t swim today, Jamie, it’s too cold. We have to wait for summer,” said Rosie.

  “Yes, even in summer, the sea is cold. I put my feet in it once. It made me shiver.”

  “It’s lovely in the hot weather, though,” said Rosie. “We’ll go again when it gets hot.”

  “Goody, I love the sea. It’s so big and it’s like glass that moves.”

  “We’ll find some shells, Jamie, and you can take them home. And I like sea glass.”

  “The sea has glass?”

  “It’s glass that fell in the sea, perhaps from a ship, and the water flows across it again and again it until it’s all smooth and pretty. No sharp edges left,” Rosie explained.

  “Ooh, I’d like to find some of that.”

  Rosie was so good with him and had been really quite unselfish these days.

  Audrey could see how Jamie had changed already, how being with decent people had brought him out. His vocabulary had expanded, too, and he’d picked up better grammar. Evans said Jamie was good with plants. And Rosie had taught him to read. Those little successes were good for him, and the treats and knowing they liked him. She wasn’t going to let him go back to that place. Geoffrey must fight for him.

  Geoffrey should take some time away from all these other concerns and think of his family for a change. Not quite reasonable, considering the situation, but she found her resentment building anyway. Audrey had always been used to plenty of attention. Even Rosie seemed preoccupied these days, and had become very unsympathetic to her migraines, which was so unfair; she couldn’t help her headaches. All her little local duties bored her to tears, and the so-called civic dignitaries she had to put up with were unbearably pompous, not to mention their simpering wives. Reading had always been her joy, but she was fed up with being alone so much. She didn’t seem to come first with anyone.

  Such a pity Rosie had no siblings. Audrey hadn’t wanted more children, not after Fiona. God, just thinking the name still cut her. She hadn’t meant to have Rosie, it had just happened after a bit too much wine one night. Several nights, actually. She’d left Rosie mostly to her old nanny in the early years, didn’t want to risk getting too close. Then it was too late. They were courteous, but not close. Geoffrey had played with Rosie every day, though, had given her the cuddles and kisses her mother couldn’t. She regretted it now. She’d never managed to close that distance between them, however smoothly they seemed to carry on. She’d let herself miss the best years.

  Jamie, now, he was as good for Rosie as she was good for him. He was a good addition to the household and really no trouble.

  * * *

  The sea lay quiet today, voicing only a whisper or two as it curled into the shoreline. The sun even presented itself from time to time before sidling back behind the clouds. Audrey had brought a folding chair with her—and had started down the steep trail with it until Jamie insisted on carrying it for her. She’d watched his valiant struggle to balance himself and his load, but both Rosie and she knew better than to offer help. Funny, he couldn’t have been taught how to be a gentleman in the East End of all places. He watched Geoffrey all the time, though, so he’d probably picked up the “ladies first” rule from him.

  She closed her eyes and huddled into her blanket a little deeper. The smell of rotting seaweed was pungent after the weekend storm had marooned great swathes of it well above the usual high tide mark. She didn’t mind, for it carried the memories of carefree childhood and cool waves lapping at hot skin. She and Geoffrey had come here at night once, just before their wedding. She wallowed in her memories and allowed a smile to curve her lips. Deliciously shameful. Sand could be most inconvenient. She shivered and hugged herself, not to ward off the chill, but to hold onto a pleasurable tremor.

  She jumped as Jamie called out behind her, “Lady Audrey, look! Look what I’ve got!”

  He had a handful of sea glass. She admired pale green, blue, and a curious citrus shade.

  “Look at the sky through it, Jamie, you can see the colors better.” She held a piece up and turned it this way and that. “You have a lovely collection. What will you do with it?”

  “Oh, I’m going to keep it in my room and look at it every day. It’s very special.”

  “Shall I keep it for you in my pocket? Then you can go and look for more things.”

  Jamie ran back to Rosie, who was poking a stick around in the rocks near an inlet at the edge of the bay. He was clumsy, not well coordinated. Part of whatever damaged him, no doubt. Perhaps his mother had been a drinker. That could have been Rosie if Geoffrey and Dr. Gibson hadn’t stepped in. They said it could do bad things to babies. He was definitely improving, though. Good food, exercise, keeping his mind busy. The dear boy tugged at her heart and he admired her so much. Such a genuine person. He must never go back to that place.

  * * *

  Back at the Manor, Jamie looked tired, but seemed too wound up to settle down.

  “Let’s go for a walk, Rosie. Please?”

  “Oh, Jamie, I’m so tired. I’m not used to all that fresh air.” Let me be.

  “You’re in air all the time, aren’t you? When we’re in the garden, that’s the fresh kind, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Jamie, all right, all right. Just a short
one.”

  As much as she liked him, he could be a nuisance with his nagging sometimes. Typical little brother, or so she’d heard from her friends. She wanted to soak in a hot bath before changing for dinner. Not that she was hungry, they’d had a good picnic tea down on the beach, but she needed to relax. Well, she hadn’t been to the pond for a few weeks. It wasn’t far, just beyond the rose garden.

  “All right, let’s go and look at the pond. It’s got goldfish. At least I think they’re still there.”

  “What’s a pond?”

  “Like the lake, only much smaller. People keep goldfish in them. They’re pretty. Come on.”

  “Why do you think they might not be there anymore? Fishes can’t walk. Or are they special because they’re gold?”

  Stop asking so many questions! Be nice, he’s only a boy. “No, sometimes the water gets too cold in winter and they die.”

  “That’s sad. Poor fishes.”

  Rosie didn’t answer. She’d had a pleasant day, but felt crotchety anyway. That time of the month. Since she wasn’t about to explain that particular concept to Jamie, she’d just have to put a good face on it.

  They stood at the edge of the pond. The water ran clear and she could just see the outline of the old carp, Archie. He’d been living with the goldfish for years and must be at least a foot long by the looks of it.

  “Look, look, a really big one!” Jamie cried out. The carp flicked away.

  “Ssh, Jamie, they can hear you and they get scared. His name is Archie. If you keep quite still and quiet, he’ll come back. When he gets used to people again, he might let us tickle his back.”

  Jamie stood still and silent, his arms clamped to his side as he waited. The fish made a languid reappearance and swam towards the surface.

  “Hello, Archie,” Jamie whispered.

  “He’s expecting some crumbs, but I forgot to bring any,” said Rosie.

  “Can we bring him some tomorrow?”

  “Yes, why not. Come on, let’s go. I want a quick bath before dinner.”

  “All right.”

  “There’s another pond, a bigger one, way down near the woods. We’ll go there tomorrow. It’s got big stepping stones all across it. You’ve got to pay attention, though. It’s really mucky if you fall in.”

  “Is it fun?”

  “Oh yes, when I was little, my cousin Julian and I used to go there all the time. Nanny used to get really cross when we fell in.” And we always made sure we did!

  “Who’s Nanny?

  “The lady who used to take care of me.”

  “Where was your mum?”

  “Here. But in our sort of family, mothers are very busy. They have to go out a lot.”

  “I see.” But he clearly didn’t.

  She hadn’t thought of Julian for years. His mother had left his father and taken Julian with her. Mummy didn’t let them come after that because Julian’s father was her favorite brother. That wasn’t Julian’s fault, though. So unfair. It’s not as if Julian’s father ever bothered to visit. She should try to track him down. He’d been lots of fun in those days.

  * * *

  She’d saved Jamie from a complete dunking, but one foot had gone smack into the mud. His feet were quite big compared with the rest of him, so she’d asked her father if he had an old pair of shoes to spare. They were only a little on the big side; he’d found Jamie some socks, too. She walked just behind Jamie as they made their way to the vegetable garden and saw that his heels slipped out of the shoes with each step. He might get blisters. She’d better put plasters on his heels.

  Evans needed help with the planting because two of his usual boys had just joined up. He had trays of seedlings ready for the beds, which he’d already sectioned with string and markers.

  “Now, Jamie, yer goin’ to start with proper planting today.”

  Jamie beamed. “Thank you.”

  He showed them both how to dig the holes, put a little nurrishment in the bottom, then ease the fragile plants in, and tamp the earth down around them. Rosie wondered what his new helper was doing. He never seemed to be around.

  “You’re a dab hand, Jamie,” he said.

  “Gran used to like gardening. We hadn’t got one, but her father used to have a nice house. She said they had a lovely garden in the back.”

  “Where’s your Gran, Jamie?”

  “She was bl-itzed.”

  “Were you there lad?”

  “Well … ” He blushed and hung his head.

  “You’re hiding something, Jamie,” said Rosie. “You were acting funny when we took George back to Blexton. Stop telling fibs and spill the beans. I’m not going to let you have any tea until you’ve told.”

  “I haven’t got any beans. Why are you talking about beans?”

  Rosie took a deep breath. “It’s something we say when we want a person to tell. Now, tell!”

  “I promised I wouldn’t. But maybe I should tell.” And the long dormant story bubbled out as he told them about the fight and all the way through to how he’d used the key to go out and wait for Roy.

  Aghast, Rosie and Evans stood and looked at each other.

  “She was lying there covered in blood, Jamie? And not moving at all?” asked Rosie.

  “Well, yes, but …” He stopped talking, clamped his lips, and hung his head.

  “Where was your cousin? Roy.”

  “Dunno.”

  “What is it, Jamie?”

  “I promised not to tell that story, you know. I haven’t said it to anyone before. I promised. He’ll be so angry. I don’t know what he’ll do. He’ll hurt me.”

  “Who, Jamie?”

  “Mustn’t tell.”

  “Jamie, someone tried to hurt you with the chocolates. You must tell. Jamie! Where is Roy?”

  “He’s in that place. I’m supposed to call him Graham now.”

  “Stay here with Evans. You’re not to go anywhere. I’ve got to talk to Daddy.” God, he’s unbelievably gullible!

  Rosie burst into her father’s study, ignoring his inflamed face. He and Sir Ronald were probably discussing important secrets again.

  “Rosie, what can you be thinking?”

  “Sorry, Daddy, Sir Ronald. I’ve got to tell you something very serious. I think I know who tried to poison Jamie.”

  Geoffrey’s annoyance soon changed to concern as she related what she had just heard.

  “Bring Jamie here at once,” he said. “Ronnie, you can use this telephone.”

  Jamie and Rosie came in a few minutes later. Jamie’s face was tense and his eyes fixed on his shoes.

  “Jamie, we need to talk to you about Roy,” said Sir Geoffrey.

  “A promise is a promise. I can’t break my promise and tell.”

  “Some promises are not ours to keep. Because sometimes people make us promise to hide something bad so that they won’t get into trouble. This is something that should be told. Do you see?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Jamie, Sir Ronald and I must hear the whole story. Right from the beginning.”

  Jamie huffed, and started all over again.

  “Your cousin Roy shouldn’t have locked you and your grandmother in when he saw the Germans were just about carpeting the place. We need to talk to him about it,” said Sir Ronald.

  “Not carpets. Bombs.”

  “Never mind. We’ll never let him hurt you, you know.” The boy looked unconvinced.

  The phone rang. “For you, Ronnie.”

  Ronnie stood with his back to them as he listened and offered no more than monosyllabic grunts, until he barked out, “Murder and attempted murder. Yes, the chocolates. Go and get him. Now.” He turned to face them.

  “Well, Geoffrey. Remember I mentioned Roy Beck’s got form? Lot of West End jobs. A fence in Lymington we raided last month ended up with some of it. That’s why they’ve got the fliers down here. When I get back to my office I’ll have my staff track down the air raid wardens in Southwark. Perhaps someone saw something. Pe
rhaps there’s still enough left to see if there are any knife marks on the ribs … ”

  “We can discuss that later, Ronnie,” Geoffrey broke in, his eyes shifting anxiously to the boy’s slumped figure.

  “Oh, yes, quite. I’ll be off then.”

  “Rosie, I want you and Jamie to stay in the house today. Off you go.”

  Sir Geoffrey leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, puffing it out bit by bit so it blew the hair off his face. He was long overdue for a cut, but he really didn’t give a tinker’s cuss. Rosie spent her days aimlessly hanging around when she wasn’t with Jamie, rotting her life away. Jamie had more misery coming his way. God knows where Audrey had got to. He was just bloody tired. He felt old sorrow creeping over him, familiar and unwelcome.

  16

  D.I. Falway’s blood was up, and so was his driver’s. The man screeched around the blind corners of the narrow lanes, oblivious to the possibility of another car coming the other way. Old trees and tall hedges fled by in ribbons of earthy colors. Falway didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before dashing into the reception area.

  “Where’s Graham, the attendant?” Two constables panted behind him.

  “He didn’t come in today. Most irregular,” she said, pursing her lips like a corpulent hamster.

  “Does he have a room here?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her eyes flickered over to the constables and back.

  “Take me there now.”

  “I’m not allowed to leave my desk.”

  Self-righteous cow. “I’m a policeman, madam, I don’t give a tuppenny toss what you’re not allowed to do.”

  Her expression didn’t change as she walked around her desk and strolled to the stairs.

  “Get a move on, woman, it’s urgent.”

  She shifted her heft a little faster.