The Blitz Business

by D. A. Spruzen

  “Animals get shy like people?”

  “They are shy because they have to hide from other animals or people who might hurt them.”

  “So they have to be careful, too.”

  “Look, lots of ponies!” said Rosie. “Aren’t they simply gorgeous?”

  “I think they can hurt people,” said Jamie.

  “You have to know how to treat them. You mustn’t ever feed the ponies here, it makes them turn nasty if people don’t give them anything, and then they’ll sometimes bite. And look, there are some people riding horses. I used to love riding.” Audrey sighed. “But I haven’t done it for years.”

  She leaned back and remembered the feel of the wind rushing past her face as Seeker, her bay gelding, soared across the fields, gliding over the hedgerows, legs tucked under his belly in a neat little package. He wasn’t a big horse—not much over fifteen hands—but he’d been stouthearted and nimble. After he died of colic, excruciatingly, she’d felt too brokenhearted to buy a replacement. She used to ride one of Geoffrey’s horses when she felt like hacking, but soon gave it up. Rosie had never been interested, unlike most of the other girls in her set. Strange, she didn’t seem afraid of horses, just bored by the whole idea. She’d never been sporty.

  She wouldn’t talk about foxhunting now. Jamie would never understand the idea of chasing a fox until it was cornered and torn to pieces by hounds; it would upset him no end. And it was certainly barbaric. There were other ways to get rid of foxes.

  Jamie sat still and quiet, staring down into his lap.

  “What is it, Jamie?” Rosie peered at him.

  “I don’t want to get out of the car. Can we eat in the car? I’m scared of horses.”

  “You can sit between Mummy and me, we’re used to horses. We’ll take care of you. Promise. Anyway, they don’t usually come where we go.”

  “All right. I suppose.”

  They came to a stop by the side of the road. Rosie and Jamie each took a handle and carried the picnic basket between them. Audrey led the way with the rugs tucked under her arm.

  “Where are we going?” asked Jamie, his voice fretful.

  “To a nice little clearing. It’s very pretty there and it has lots of wild flowers. You can pick some if you want to.” Rosie smiled at him.

  “I wish George could have come. But I think the wheelchair would be too hard to push along here,” said Jamie.

  “Well, next time we could think about having our picnic in a different place where we could take George,” said Audrey. “There are some pretty pubs in the New Forest. They have gardens with tables you can sit at, and sometimes the ponies come into the garden to drink from the fishponds. They have to put special grids over the ponds so the ponies don’t suck up the fish along with the water.”

  “Pubs here have gardens? Well I never. And ponies come into the gardens? I don’t know about that. Would they leave us alone?”

  “Oh yes, they just wander in and out. And they line up outside the windows of one of the pubs. They sometimes get the leftover beer out of the barrels, and they love that,” said Rosie.

  “Don’t they get drunk? A horse could do horrid things if it got drunk. Like Roy.”

  “No, horses don’t seem to get drunk. And what did Roy do when he got drunk?” asked Rosie.

  “Dunno. Don’t remember,” and he stared ahead as if scanning the horizon.

  Poor boy, what else had happened to him? Audrey didn’t really want to know; some things are best forgotten if you can. Better change the subject.

  “Nearly there. Jamie, will you have tea or orangeade?”

  “Cuppa, please! Then orangeade.”

  They laid out the rugs and tea things and tucked in. Jamie didn’t eat much at first; he was too busy peering around as if he expected a monster to jump out of the bushes. The peaceful spot settled him, though, and he began to eat rather more than his fair share. Even so, they pressed more on him. Rosie’s compassion for the boy delighted Audrey. Only children were often self-centered, but he had kindled tenderness in both of them, and Geoffrey too. She lay back and gazed up through the canopy.

  Geoffrey’s concern for Jamie had surprised her. He was a kind and gentle man, but he had never been comfortable with the unfamiliar. She knew he’d hoped for a son, but he never spoke of it. And Jamie was nothing like the sort of son he’d have longed for. What kind of son might that have been? A boy with the right ideas gleaned from the inevitable progression from nanny to prep school to public school to Oxbridge? Sons were good to mothers, easy going. But girls understood their mothers in the end when they came into their own sorrows and disappointments.

  Geoffrey had not always been gentle, though. About a year after they got married, he’d found the young son of one of the tenant farmers hiding in a hayloft, his tearstained face buried in his sleeve as he tried to muffle his sobs. His older brother was a drunkard and a lout, much given to starting pub brawls, and in a drunken rage he’d given his young brother a savage beating with his belt. Geoffrey had warned the boy’s father about his behavior more than once.

  Geoffrey sent a farmhand to bring the drunk and his father to wait for him in the barn. He brought the boy to Audrey, who had been sickened by the bloody welts. She’d been embarrassed to take care of a fourteen-year-old boy’s backside, but she’d never seen Geoffrey in such a mood, so she took a deep breath and got on with it.

  She left the boy drinking hot cocoa in the kitchen and went out to the barn. She knew Geoffrey wouldn’t want her there, but she was curious to see how he’d handle things. She used the back entrance and stood in a dark corner watching as Geoffrey upbraided the smirking unrepentant youth for his cruelty, his color high and a vein in his right temple she’d never noticed before throbbing. Then he horsewhipped him, perspiring as he laid into the boy. Audrey startled a little with each crack, and felt sick again. The young man lost his swagger almost at once and sniveled and groveled like a feeble schoolgirl as the cutting blows cascaded down his back and legs. The father watched in grim silence, his lips squeezed together into a thin line as his jutting jaw pointed at the scene like an accusatory finger—whether at his son or at Geoffrey, she wasn’t sure.

  “I want you off this farm and far away by eight tomorrow morning.” Geoffrey’s voice rasped low, but it penetrated the high-beamed space with surprising clarity. “Your brother will stay in the Manor tonight. Mr. Turner!”

  “Sir!”

  “Your son is never to set foot on our land again—God knows he’s had plenty of warnings to mend his ways. If you do not wish to continue your tenancy under the circumstances, you are hereby released. However, you are welcome to remain if you prefer.”

  “I will stay, thank you kindly, sir. Come along, boy,” said the chagrined father. Audrey saw him kick his errant son’s rear end through the barn door before she slipped out and returned to the kitchen.

  She’d never seen Geoffrey so roused before or since; he’d fallen on her that night like an animal, too, which she had quite enjoyed, although she hadn’t liked to say so. They’d had firm ideas about what constituted ladylike behavior in those days—still did—and in his frenzy it seemed he hadn’t noticed her enthusiastic response. He kissed her forehead afterwards and said, “Sorry, darling,” rolled over, and fell sleep. She’d felt cheated. She’d wanted his arms to wrap her, wanted to tell him his earthy passion was welcome—very welcome—but she was trapped in the pernicious butterfly net of her class.

  Geoffrey couldn’t tolerate cruelty—and she’d seen it in other small ways. That’s what drew him to Jamie and made him determined to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She’d never thought to ask Geoffrey if anyone had ever treated him badly. Of course, she’d heard rumors about the things that went on in public schools; the canings, the abuses prefects heaped on the younger boys, and other horrid things only hinted at in whispered euphemisms. She couldn’t very well ask him at this late point; it would be intrusive.

  “Mummy, wake up!” Rosie shook her shoulder
. She must have drifted off. “It’s time to go back.”

  “Lady Audrey, look at all the wildflowers I’ve got!” Jamie held out his bouquet. “I hope they don’t die before we get home. They want water.”

  “I’ll wet a napkin and wrap the stems in it,” said Audrey sleepily, his simple excitement warming and lifting her spirit. His terror of marauding ponies seemed to have subsided.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Jamie was hoeing the vegetable beds when a long shadow fell across the soil, frightening him. He knew before he turned. Bernhardt. He was all the same sort of colors today, a mixture of dark and pale browns, except his eyes. What does he want? Rosie hadn’t liked finding him on the grounds last time, and Sir Geoffrey said he might be bad. And he didn’t care about Jamie, or any of the boys for that matter.

  “Good afternoon, Jamie. How are you today,” Bernhardt said with a smile. It wasn’t like a real smile, more like when Laddie showed his teeth that other time Bernhardt came.

  “I am very well, thank you. Why did you come here?”

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that Graham has gone away. I thought you should know.”

  “Yes. He was really my cousin, only I promised not to tell. And he’s gone away in the dead sort of way.”

  “Ach, so they told you. Graham told me about the chocolates. He tried to kill you. Did you know that?”

  “Yes. He was very bad.”

  “Yes, he was. Did Graham ever talk about me?”

  Jamie caught his breath, better be careful. “No, he didn’t. He wanted to know if I told people about Gran. I didn’t know that he’d killed her. I was too stupid.” He wouldn’t say he saw Bernhardt go up into the door in the ceiling and told on him. He knew he’d get in trouble for that.

  “It was not your fault, Jamie.”

  Jamie swallowed heavily. “That’s what they all say. But I should have known. I just didn’t know he could be so wicked.”

  “There are many people who do wicked things.”

  “Like Mr. Hitler, he’s very wicked. I’ve heard about him from Gran, and lots of other people too. And I heard Mr. Churchill say it on the wireless once.”

  “Oh, I do not know about wicked. People just do not know him. They do not understand what he is trying to do. They are all against him here. But there are many people who think he will build a strong Germany and change the world.”

  “Does the world need to be changed? I don’t know much about the world yet. I haven’t hardly seen it.”

  “Oh yes, I would say a lot of changes are necessary.”

  Jamie got back to his hoeing, hoping Bernhardt would get bored and go away.

  “I’ve been made assistant gardener. Because I’m good at gardening.”

  “Well, I’m glad you are useful. Everyone should be useful, otherwise they should be dealt with.”

  “Punished, you mean?”

  “Something like that. So, Graham never talked about me?”

  “Well, only once. He said you had a toolbox you like to take up in the attic to mend a leak. It made him laugh. I don’t know why. He said I was never to tell about it. And I didn’t.” Bernhardt looked very angry, his eyebrows closing together, nose holes as wide as a horse’s, and his teeth and gums showed too. I should have kept my mouth shut; I never seem to know when to keep my mouth shut. But I only said that Roy said it. Not that I saw it.

  “I see,” Bernhardt said between nearly closed teeth. “Well, you must never tell about it. It is our secret.”

  “But why should mending a leak be a secret?”

  “Because I said so. I do very important work up there, and no one must know. I might have to kill you if you tell anyone.”

  Jamie’s breath came in little puffs now and he felt as though he might fall over. Bernhardt is bad too. Why did bad people have to come to the Manor? They should stay away from good places. “I won’t tell. Not ever. Nobody. Never.”

  Bernhardt laughed, a nasty sharp sound. “See that you do not.” He turned and walked away into the orchard, his brown shirt melting into the trees as if he were one of them.

  Jamie’s tears rolled. He shouldn’t cry, not at his age. Why can’t bad people leave me alone? Why do they always want me? Is there something special in me that bad people like? He heard footsteps.

  “Jamie, where are you?” Rosie, one of the good people. Dry up on shirtsleeve, all right for once.

  “I’m in the vegetable beds. I’m hoeing.” She appeared around the corner of the small hothouse. “It’s teatime.”

  “I have to wash my hands.”

  “Cook made a seedcake, worst luck! I hate seedcake.”

  “Why would she use seeds to make a cake? She could grow them.”

  “They’re special seeds called caraway seeds, and they have a particular kind of taste. She just puts some in the cake mixture. There’s a bit of Victorian sponge left, though, we can share it if you want. But you ought to try the seedcake. You might like it. Daddy loves it.”

  “If you don’t like it, I’m sure I won’t.”

  “Hey, have you been crying? Your eyes are all red.”

  “No, I just get earth in them sometimes.”

  “Come on, race you to the back door!”

  The cake did taste funny. Not bad, just funny. He’d finish his slice and then decide. Sir Geoffrey liked it lots, he’d had two slices already. Jamie kept his eye on the last bit of sponge cake. Rosie said she’d share, but you never knew. People sometimes forgot about sharing when it came to cake.

  “What did you do today, Jamie?” asked Lady Audrey.

  Should I tell? He’d had nothing but trouble with secrets. He could trust these people. They were his friends. He kept on chewing while he thought about it.

  “Jamie, Lady Audrey asked you a question.” Sir Geoffrey sounded cross.

  “Sorry. I had to think. Well, I weeded the perennials, and then this afternoon I hoed the vegetable beds. Then Bernhardt from the place, you know, the Blexton place, came to see me.”

  “That man, the Dutch one who Laddie chased off that time? What did he want?” Rosie’s voice got loud and high. “And why didn’t you tell me? And was that why your eyes were red?”

  “Well, you were angry with him before. And he told me I must never tell what we talked about. He said he might have to kill me if I told. So I wasn’t going to tell. But I was just thinking. When I keep secrets it never turns out right. So now I’m telling.”

  “I should bloody well think so!”

  “Geoffrey!”

  “Sorry, darling. Tell me everything he said, Jamie, right now.”

  The tears wanted to start again; he must keep them from coming down. He told about Bernhardt knowing about the chocolates and about the door in the ceiling, which seemed to be the most important part. He even told what Bernhardt said about Mr. Hitler. Sir Geoffrey said nothing. Was he very angry? He just sat there and finished his cake. Then he got up so suddenly he made them all jump.

  “I must ring Sir Ronald,” was all he said on his way out.

  20

  The soldiers’ khaki uniforms wound in and out of the shrubbery as they converged on the Blexton Institute, rifles at the ready. Another group had started at the outer edge of the property to contain anyone who might be wandering the grounds. Mrs. Clancy had been instructed to confine the patients to the common rooms after breakfast and to tell everyone there was an air raid warning. She’d not seen Bernhardt yet and thought he was still in his room. Falway suggested that they wait another hour until everyone had settled down, but the two intelligence officers in charge, Cummins and Bretton-Taylor, overruled him.

  “Need to get on with it, old boy,” said Cummins. Toffee-nosed bugger.

  The three of them strolled up the path to the front door as if they were casual visitors. The lumpish receptionist sat on her throne as usual.

  “Don’t get up.” She’d made no signs of doing so. Falway waved a document in her face. “We have a search warrant. Stay exactly where you ar
e.” Expressionless, she nodded.

  “We’ll start with his room and search the upper floors. You check the common rooms,” Bretton-Taylor told Falway.

  “I will.” Yes, sir, three bags full, sir. Arrogant jackass.

  Falway started on the ground floor. A lovely building once—it still displayed some fancy carved wood and stone—but nothing more than a dreary prison now. He moved through hallways that stifled him with their brown and sludge-green paint, cracked linoleum curling up at the corners, and harsh stink of disinfectant. Where did they get that stuff? It wasn’t Dettol with its familiar germ-conquering smell most people found reassuring. What a soulless place to spend one’s life in.

  He opened the door to the boys’ common room, just the one attendant whom he’d seen before. He looked harried. No wonder. Most of the boys were quiet, but some muttered incessantly, some stared at nothing, some paced. A burly young man startled him by a sudden arcing of his body to touch his toes, followed by a shrill “Fuck!” That said, he strolled over to the table, picked up a comic, and went to sit and read by the window. He was used to criminals, petty and otherwise, but he couldn’t imagine how he’d cope with this unnerving band.

  “D.I. Falway. Have you seen Bernhardt?” he asked.

  “I remember you. No, he didn’t report in. He’s supposed to be working in here with these boys. We’re short-handed, you know. I even had to give them breakfast on my own. And the wheelchair case is still in bed, no time to see to him.” The man sounded aggrieved, whiny.

  “So you don’t know where he is.”

  “No. I think I saw him off in the distance on the grounds this morning. He generally takes an early walk. He goes out walking all the time. He’s often late, but not this late.”

  Falway left, relieved when the heavy door clanged shut behind him. He shouldn’t feel repulsed, but he did. The common room on the other side of the building was worse. This one was for adult men, most of them probably worse off than when they’d come in, he shouldn’t wonder. The stench turned his stomach, and the amalgamated voices formed a dull roar, although there were some whose silence lay deep-sea still. Thank God Jamie wouldn’t have to stay in this place. The unbidden thought startled him. Would the boy have been reduced to madness here? Most likely. Nice boy like that—unthinkable. There was a sweetness about him, and he was too good for this. He took a deep breath, almost gagged, and accelerated his pace.