by Tania Crosse
Nathaniel wrinkled his nostrils as he passed behind her. His plan had been to break into the hall and slash all the paintings with the penknife in his pocket. He hadn’t reckoned on finding Meg Chandler all alone like this. But now, delight beat in his heart at the thought of making her suffer. Of witnessing terror in her eyes. He drooled at the idea of beating her to a pulp, but he’d have to contain his lust for physical violence. He didn’t want her to have any reason to set the police onto him. And that would put the Red Caps on his trail, too.
But she wasn’t showing any fear, and she wasn’t rising to the bait, either. So what could he do to wreak his vengeance? She’d know it was him now, so he didn’t want to do anything that was really criminal.
Irritated with himself that he hadn’t waited until she’d gone so that he could simply carry out his original plan anonymously, he began swaggering down the row of pictures, but without turning his back on her. A heavy-duty torch was placed strategically on the table near her, and he didn’t want her coshing him over the head with it! But if only he could prompt some reaction from her, torment her in some way, he’d be happy. Then his eyes alighted on the drawing hanging in pride of place above the others.
‘Huh, think you’re really good, don’t you, you stuck-up bitch?’ he growled, pointing at the exhibits. ‘But these are rubbish! A two-year-old could do better. And, ah diddums, look at that,’ he jeered, poking his finger towards the sketch of Mercury. ‘If it isn’t the mangy mutt I dispatched to doggy heaven. Well, this is what I think of it!’
In a flash, Nathaniel pulled the folded knife from his pocket and flicked open the blade. Huh, that’d teach her! He’d just slash the one drawing which clearly meant a lot to her, and leave her crying. And then he’d disappear out into the darkness, never to be seen again. It wouldn’t be magnificent revenge, but she could hardly set the police onto him for that. So it would have to do, and he lifted his arm.
Meg’s jaw had clamped more and more tightly. She was stronger than that. She could resist all his vicious taunts. But when she saw the steel blade flash in the torchlight, her heart reared in her chest as unleashed rage shot through her limbs. No! She wouldn’t let the devil who’d killed her parents and her dog desecrate the picture that meant so much to her, the very essence of her being before he’d destroyed her life.
Madness swirled through her brain as she launched herself at his raised arm. It seemed to take him by surprise, and his fingers opened, releasing the knife which clattered to the floor. But he wasn’t going to let her get the better of him, and using all his might, he hurled her downwards.
She landed with a thud on her back, the wind knocked out of her so that she could hardly breathe, let alone move. An instant later, caution flung to the wind and blinded by a red fog of anger, Nathaniel was astride her waist, pinning her to the floor. Terror roared in Meg’s head and she managed to lash out at him, hitting and scratching. But he merely laughed at her, and then his cruel grin changed into a delirious smirk.
‘Oh, what have we here?’
Anger spiked through Meg’s heart as she saw him wave aloft a small envelope. Damn it! The letter must have slipped out of her pocket when she fell.
‘Flight Sergeant R. Hillier,’ Nathaniel chortled gleefully as he read out the address while avoiding her attempts to snatch the letter back. ‘Oh, I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. So, you married the bastard, did you? And he’s in the RAF? Air crew, is he? Oh, what a pity it’s a central address. I’d have liked to know where he’s stationed. But no matter. It’ll probably happen anyway, but I can pray every night that his plane crashes and he burns alive.’
His face screwed up like a demonic gargoyle, and Meg glared up at him, horror blazing through her in a tidal wave. Her anguish was so intense, it turned to white-hot rage, and she bent one leg to brace her foot against the floor, bringing her other knee up to slam it into Nathaniel’s back with all the force she could muster.
For a split second, he seemed to falter, so she did it again and again, ramming her knee into his back. Other than irritating him, it seemed to have little effect. But all she had suffered because of him – the loss of her parents, her dog and her home, and now his vicious curse towards Ralph – burned through her in an inferno. She gathered saliva to spit in Nathaniel’s face. The surprise might just give her the chance to get away.
But just as she was about to launch the gobbet of spittle at him, he suddenly let out a yelp of pain and rolled sideways from her, crashing onto the floor at her side. Her gaze flicked upwards. Standing over her, with a rounders bat raised in the air ready to strike again if necessary was the figure of a tall, elegant woman dressed in a smart, tweed suit. Clarrie.
Just for an instant, Meg slumped with relief, but then with Nathaniel’s cruel words ringing in her head, she scrambled to her feet. While Clarrie stood guard, Meg grabbed some of the thick string that had been tied round her packaged paintings. Repulsed by the physical contact, she nevertheless grasped hold of Nathaniel’s wrist. But instead of resisting, he squealed like a stuck pig as she pulled his arm behind his back and bound both his wrists together. Throwing Clarrie a warning glance not to let down her guard, she dragged Nathaniel to his feet, almost relishing the pain she was evidently causing him. Grabbing her coat and her torch, between them, they frogmarched him across to the vicarage.
*
The vicarage kitchen was a warm, cosy oasis as Meg and Clarrie sat sipping hot tea at the table. It wasn’t until the vicar had called the police and Nathaniel had been taken away in a police car that both of them started to shake as what had happened across the way in the village hall began to sink in. Nathaniel’s vicious curse still swirled in Meg’s brain. It was just that, a curse, nothing more. She was stronger than that and wouldn’t let his hatred hurt her anymore. But it had certainly unsettled her, and thank heavens Clarrie had come along when she did.
The same inspector who’d been involved when Green had been arrested previously had rolled his eyes at discovering the same culprit yet again. He’d taken statements from Meg and Clarrie, but he also had some other news for them.
‘He’s on the Military Police’s wanted list, too,’ he’d explained. ‘Deserted about a year ago, so they’re delighted to have recaptured him, and are most grateful to you.’
Knowing of Eric’s connection with Robin Hill House, he’d also drafted in the young constable who’d arrived a little later on his bicycle. The inspector had left, but now Eric was sitting at the table with Meg and Clarrie, and the vicar and his wife.
‘I think the inspector explained that you don’t have to press charges with regard to the assault,’ Eric said gently. ‘But you can go away and think about it. The thing is, as a deserter, he’ll have a good sentence to serve in military prison. And then he’ll probably be sent out to the Far East to serve in the army, and if he tries to desert again out there, well, heaven help him. Now, we suspect his collarbone’s broken, but it was in defence of someone being attacked. Mrs Stratfield-Whyte is a pillar of the community, and nobody’s going to doubt her word. But if you press charges, it’ll go to court, and you’ll have to go through all that again.’
Eric pursed his lips with a sympathetic sigh. ‘If it were me, I think I’d let the military deal with him. But the assault on you, Meg, will remain on record. So, sleep on it. And you can always discuss it with the inspector if you want further advice.’
‘Thank you, Eric,’ Clarrie said gratefully. ‘Meg?’
Meg looked from one to the other, then lowered her eyes. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m inclined to agree with Eric. I just want the blackguard out of my life, and put an end to it forever.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Clarrie nodded. ‘I know we’re all in shock still, and maybe it’d be natural to want to make him pay for what he did tonight. But he’s going to pay for his desertion well enough.’
‘I agree,’ the vicar put in. ‘It’s not exactly Christian forgiveness, but as he’s going to
be punished anyway, I’d be inclined to leave it at that. But, how are you both feeling now? And what about tomorrow? The exhibition. Will you be up to it, Meg?’
To Clarrie’s immense pride, Meg lifted her head almost in surprise.
‘Of course, vicar. I’m not letting that devil ruin all our plans. And if people do get the bus all the way out here from Tunbridge Wells, we can’t let them down. And I’m not just doing this for me. I’m doing it in memory of my mum and dad.’ Meg’s gaze travelled to Clarrie’s face, and she squeezed the older woman’s arm. ‘And for all the people who’ve been so kind to me since my parents died.’
Her blue eyes deepened to sapphire as she caught Clarrie’s glance, the tension on her face moving into soft lines of love and affection. Oh, Clarrie. You saved me, her look said silently. And inside Clarrie’s heart, such an intense warmth of emotion wafted hither and thither that she could have burst. For a brief moment, she and Meg had shared a terrible fear, but they had fought it together, united as one. Bringing them closer than ever, their souls entwined. And when Meg leant forward and encircled her in an embrace so charged with feeling, Clarrie could have sung with joy.
Twenty-Seven
1943
‘Well, I hope he bloody well rots in hell!’ Ralph fumed, turning to Meg with incensed rage burning in his eyes as they walked through the woods with the dogs. ‘And why the hell didn’t you tell me before? It’s been months, all through the winter! All you told me was how well the exhibition went, and that you sold all but two of your paintings.’
Meg raised her eyes to her husband and her heart broke. She’d never seen Ralph so angry, even when they’d discovered what Green had been up to on previous occasions. She knew why, of course. The strain of all those secret, night-time missions was showing. He’d aged, his eyes sunken and with deep crow’s feet at the corners from peering into the darkness. What he needed was sleep, but when they went to bed, sleep wouldn’t come. He was too used to being up and alert at night, flying into enemy territory. And Meg would hear him get up and creep downstairs, not returning to bed until dawn was approaching.
She’d waited until, with the calm of the countryside soothing his nerves, he’d at last managed a few good nights’ sleep. It was why he’d been sent home on two weeks’ leave. His commanding officers had seen the signs, the way his hands would suddenly start shaking as they were now. Other people’s lives, whole operations, could be put at risk if he made a mistake, to say nothing of the loss of an aircraft, equipment, and information. The Resistance was of vital importance, disrupting German movements, uncovering intelligence. Things sometimes went wrong. As they had done on Ralph’s last mission. Not his fault, but his superiors could see that his nerve had snapped, and he must have that much-needed – and overdue – leave. He and his pilot, Neville, had both been sent home.
Meg had brought Ralph into the woods at the deepest part of the estate, on the pretext of giving all the dogs some exercise. She wanted to take him somewhere quiet where they shouldn’t be disturbed, to tell him what Nathaniel Green had done back in the autumn, the evening before the exhibition. Guessing how he might react, she’d almost been tempted not to tell Ralph at all, but he was bound to hear it from someone, and she wanted to get in first.
‘Pity the bluebells have gone over,’ Meg had said in an attempt to put Ralph in a relaxed mood before she spilt the beans.
‘Yes,’ he’d answered, his voice flat and dull.
Meg tried again, taking Ralph’s hand as they walked along the path. ‘It was so kind of Alan and Maggie to have Cyril take my place at the farm again so I could spend these two weeks here with you. He doesn’t have my experience, of course, but he’s so willing.’
‘Yes.’ Ralph gave another monosyllabic grunt, and Meg gritted her teeth. There was only one thing for it.
‘I don’t think I told you,’ she began tentatively, her pulse starting to gallop. ‘I saw Nathaniel Green again. Back in the autumn.’
‘What!’
Meg’s words had prompted an animated response this time, and she knew she had to go on. So she told Ralph briefly what had happened and how Green had been a deserter, which angered Ralph even more. Meg deliberately left out, however, how Nathaniel had discovered they were married, and how he had virtually put a curse on Ralph that had kept her awake at night, even though she tried desperately to rationalise the situation. All the devil had learnt was that Ralph was in the RAF. On its own, it was useless information. It would be impossible for him to use it to harm Ralph in any way.
‘So why didn’t you press charges against the bastard?’ Ralph demanded when she’d finished, glaring at her almost accusingly.
‘Because he didn’t really hurt me, and I really didn’t want to go through all the court process again,’ Meg explained as patiently as she could. ‘I just wanted to forget it had ever happened. And I knew if I’d told you before, you’d have been worried about me. But it happened so long ago now, that as far as I’m concerned, it’s all in the past. But I don’t want there ever to be secrets between us, which is why I’ve told you now. And anyway, the Military Police were dealing with him. And it looked as if Clarrie’d broken his collarbone, so I thought that was enough.’
Ralph was staring at her darkly. But then she saw him take a deep breath as if to calm himself. ‘Good for her,’ he said vehemently.
‘She was going to hit him over the head,’ Meg went on, ‘but realised in that instant that she could kill him, and she didn’t want that. Wasn’t that clever of her to think that?’
‘Certainly was,’ Ralph agreed, and then he surprised Meg by pulling her towards him and crushing her against his chest. ‘Oh, my love, I just couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you,’ he murmured brokenly into her hair.
A deep frown creased Meg’s forehead. Ralph was holding her so tightly that her head was pressed hard against him and she could hear his heart beating hard and fast. Her stomach clenched, for what had he seen that had cut into him so deeply?
When she at last felt him begin to relax a fraction, she gently pulled away enough to be able to cup his hollow cheeks in her palms and bring his face down so that she could place a lingering kiss on his lips. She could feel the tension pulsing out of him, and when she glanced up, his eyes were softly closed, though the tiny muscles in his brow were still twitching.
‘Let’s sit down on that fallen log over there,’ she suggested quietly, taking his arm. ‘I think you need to tell me what happened on that mission,’ she said, raising her eyebrows questioningly at him.
For a moment, his mouth clamped in defiance, but then he lowered his eyes and nodded slowly. He didn’t utter another word until they had sat down, and then he seemed to be concentrating more on watching the dogs sniffing about in the undergrowth. Clarrie’s three were quite elderly now, and Thimble was quite comical as she tried to get them to play more boisterously. But Ralph didn’t look as if he was finding it amusing.
‘So?’ Meg prompted him softly.
Ralph’s elbows were resting on his spread knees, hands clasped together, and he dropped his gaze as if concentrating on them would give him the strength to relive the horrific scene. Meg was beginning to think that perhaps he wouldn’t say anything after all when at last he began to speak.
‘There was a clearing,’ he said, his voice so low that Meg could only just hear him. ‘We’d used it before. But not often. You don’t. It was nine months since we’d used it last. It was a landing, not just a drop. We had an agent to pick up. It’s only a tiny clearing, but the Lysander’s built for that and Nev can land it on a pinhead. We were coming in low. Lights dimmed, wheels down. Guided by a couple of flashlights. And then…’ He broke off, choked. And his head drooped even further. ‘All hell suddenly broke loose,’ he barely whispered. ‘Even above the engine, we heard the shots. Nev immediately began to abort the landing. But from the ground, you probably wouldn’t have realised. And then the girl…’ Ralph paused again, pinching his upper lip between
his forefinger and thumb before forcing himself to go on. ‘Jeanne her name was, if I remember rightly. Code name, that is. Instead of running off into the woods to try and save herself, she ran out into the clearing, waving her arms at us to warn us. I suppose she thought that was more important. That they’d see she was a girl and wouldn’t… But they mowed her down with a machine gun. She was no older than you.’
Meg could hear the sharp catch in his voice that brought him to a halt. She’d let him speak without interruption, her own heart sickened by his words as she imagined the darkness of the woods at night, the plane coming in low and stealthily, the secrecy. And then the horror of the German guns tracing through the pitch black. The girl being hit, several times, her body shuddering as each bullet tore into her flesh as she went down.
Meg gulped down her nausea, her hand closing on Ralph’s arm. She went to speak but her own words stuck in her throat before she could make her voice work. ‘So… what happened next? Did the others get away?’
Ralph took his time, taking a deep breath before releasing it with a shake of his head. ‘There’s been no radio contact since. The girls at our end, they can recognise the touch of the operative. And… nothing. The Germans strafed the plane, but Nev pulled us out so quickly. But we were bloody lucky they didn’t hit anything vital. I think they realised we’d got out of range, and they went after the poor sods on the ground instead. So we don’t know yet if anyone got away. Managed to lie low. And anyone who was caught… They’d all been issued with cyanide pills. But it makes some people instantly sick so it doesn’t get a chance to work. There’s obviously no way of knowing beforehand,’ he concluded bitterly.
He was still staring at his joined hands, and Meg tightened her hold on his arm. She could feel him shaking, and she was aware of her own blood pulsing nervously.