The nurse who had opened the door accompanied her down a long corridor, where elderly people sat huddled in chairs or wandered aimlessly about with vacant expressions.
Elizabeth’s heart ached for them all, and she was even more determined to never let Martin wither away in such a lonely, desolate place, even if he did insist on disappearing every night.
The friendly nurse asked lots of questions about the Manor House and Elizabeth’s duties in the village. She seemed fascinated by the idea of a woman being in such a distinguished position, and quite heartened by the fact that the villagers accepted Elizabeth as their guardian and provider.
“It’s not often you see a woman in a position of power,” she remarked as she paused at the door of a room with wide barred windows. “I always say women can be just as strong and intelligent as men, if not more so. I think we should have a woman for a prime minister, after Winnie goes, of course. Fat chance of that, though.”
“I quite agree,” Elizabeth said as the nurse opened the door. “Most women would agree with you, but just try convincing the men of that.”
The nurse smiled. “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? They think of us as the weaker sex, and think the only thing we’re good for is cooking meals and taking care of babies. The war’s changed all that though, m’m. I think the men are in for a big shock when they come back from the war. Women aren’t the same as they were when the men went away. They’ve had to stand on their own two feet, and they like it.”
“Indeed. I understand there are far more women working full-time jobs now than ever before.”
“We’ve had to, haven’t we.” She ushered Elizabeth into the room and closed the door behind her. “Not enough men to do it, that’s for sure. The women have taken over, and they’re not going to give that up just because their hubbies are coming home.”
Elizabeth felt a familiar pang of misgiving. The war had indeed changed things. No matter how much people wanted things to go back to the way they were before, that was extremely unlikely. She couldn’t help wondering how they would all adapt to this brave new world that was emerging.
She followed the nurse across the room, past smiling, nodding patients who either played board games at small tables or sat knitting or reading in comfortable chairs. These people seemed happier than those in the hallways, and Elizabeth felt a little better, until she saw the young girl seated in a wheelchair.
She sat by the window that overlooked the grounds, her body so still it was hard to tell she was alive. Her eyes were open, though vacant, as Elizabeth approached.
“Can she understand if I speak to her?” Elizabeth asked, reaching out to touch a motionless hand.
“Hard to tell.” The nurse gently leaned the girl forward and plumped up the pillow at her back. “Sometimes I think she can. Now and then I see a tiny movement of her lips, as if she’s trying to smile. Sometimes she cries. No one knows why.”
“How sad.” Elizabeth felt like crying herself. “It must be dreadful to sit here day after day, without hope of a normal future.”
“Oh, there’s always hope,” the nurse said quickly. “Scientists are working hard all the time to find out why the brain shuts down like this but leaves the body working just fine. Sheila breathes on her own, and the doctors think she could move her arms and legs and even learn to walk again if she really wanted to, but they don’t know how to make her want to try. They just keep moving everything for her and hoping that one day she’ll want to try it on her own.”
“Well, I certainly hope that happens soon,” Elizabeth said, giving the girl’s hand a gentle pat. “A young life is such a terrible thing to waste. I wonder if she recognizes her father when he comes to visit. It must be heartbreaking for him to see her like this.”
“Oh, she hasn’t seen her father since it happened.” The nurse patted the pillow in place.
Elizabeth stared at her. “But surely you must be mistaken. I was talking to him just this morning. His wife mentioned he was here last Monday.”
The nurse looked puzzled. “He’s home? I thought he was fighting somewhere abroad. I keep records of all the visitors that come in here, your ladyship.
Everyone has to sign in the register, just like you did. I can assure you, Mr. Redding hasn’t set foot in this sanitarium since his daughter was admitted two years ago.”
CHAPTER 12
Pumping wildly to keep up with Sadie, Polly started getting nervous when she realized the thief was heading away from the village and out into the country lanes. The mad chase had already led them through the High Street at heart-stopping speed. Sadie had barely missed a frightened housewife who just happened to be crossing the street with her shopping bags, and Polly had almost fallen off her bicycle when a large dog bounded in front of her wheel.
As they’d toiled up yet another hill behind the fleeing figure, Sadie waved an encouraging arm at Polly, both of them too breathless to speak. Now they were racing along the downs, heading in the direction of the Manor House.
Before they got close, however, the thief veered off the coast road and plunged into a lane. Sadie, who had shortened the distance behind him, overshot the opening and had to brake. Polly caught up with her as she turned into the lane.
Her breath came out in painful gasps but she managed to form a few words. “Where-the heck-is he-going?”
Sadie shrugged, shook her head, then took off after him. Polly pulled in a resigned breath, then started after her. It was more difficult to see the rider ahead of them now. The lane curved and twisted through trees and high hedges, and even Sadie disappeared from Polly’s view now and then.
She hurtled around a bend, intent on catching up with her friend, but then swerved as Sadie suddenly appeared in front of her, standing astride her bicycle with an odd look on her face.
Going too fast to stop, Polly crashed into the hedge. Her bicycle twisted away from under her, and she landed on her elbow in a prickly bush. “Ow!” she yelled, and then let out a muffled protest as Sadie clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Shush! He’ll hear you!” she whispered fiercely. Slowly she took her hand away from Polly’s mouth and whispered, “He’s on the other side of the hedge.”
“What’s he doing?” Polly mouthed, her sore elbow forgotten.
Sadie shook her head and lifted her shoulders. Placing a finger over her lips, she crept down the hedge to where it joined up to a gate. Moving an inch at a time, she poked her head around the bushy shrub.
Polly held her breath, then let it out in a rush when Sadie straightened up.
“He’s flipping gone!” Sadie hung over the gate, looking right and left. “I don’t believe it. Where’d he go?”
Polly groaned. “There go my knickers. Don’t tell me we went through all that for nothing.”
“He can’t have got far or we’d see him. He must be hiding somewhere.” She pointed with her finger. “Over there. I bet he’s in the windmill.”
Polly got up gingerly and brushed bits of leaves and twigs off her skirt. Joining Sadie at the gate, she peered over it at the weathered building across the field. “Are you sure?”
“It’s the only place he could be. He couldn’t have reached the trees on the other side before I looked over, so he must be in the windmill.”
“Maybe he’ll leave the knickers there and go off somewhere,” Polly said hopefully. “After all, he can’t live there, can he. He must live somewhere else. Why didn’t he take them home with him?”
“Coz he knows we was following him, silly. He’s waiting to see what we do next.”
Polly hadn’t thought of that. “So what are we going to do now?”
“Go in after him, of course, and get our knickers back.”
“What if he’s waiting in there with a knife or something?” She shuddered at the thought. “You said we would just go back and tell George we know where he is.”
“I know I did,” Sadie said heavily, “but by the time George gets back here the thief won’t be here a
nymore, will he. And we don’t know who he is or where he lives, so there’s not much point in telling George about him, is there.”
“I suppose not.” Polly shivered, in spite of the sticky warmth of the afternoon.
“Besides, he’s not very big, is he. The two of us should be able to manage him.”
“I don’t like the idea of going in there after him, though. It’s so creepy in there. There’s rats and spiders and everything.”
“Don’t be such a baby.” Sadie squared her shoulders. “All right, we’ll leave the bicycles here and we’ll cut around through the trees to the other side. That way he might not see us coming.”
“But what if he does?”
“Look, like I said, there’s only one of him and two of us.” Sadie propped her bicycle up against the gate. “He’ll probably run when he sees us coming, and then we can just go in there and get our knickers.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Polly dragged her bicycle up on its wheels, gave it a quick examination to make sure it wasn’t damaged, then leaned it against the gate next to Sadie’s. “All right, let’s get this over with. But I’m taking a big stick in with me.”
“Good idea.” Sadie set off for the trees. “We’ll pick one up in the woods.”
A few minutes later, each armed with a thick branch from a stout elm, the two of them crept up to the door of the windmill. Sadie signaled to Polly to stay behind her as she pushed the door open and looked in. After a nerve-shattering moment, she beckoned to Polly to follow and stepped inside.
Polly crept in behind her, sheltered behind Sadie’s sturdy body. All was quiet within, and after a moment, Polly peered around Sadie’s arm. “There’s no one here,” she whispered.
Sadie pointed to the floor. “Someone’s been here. Look at all the footsteps in the dust.”
“Looks like they’ve been and gone.” Dropping her stick, Polly came out from behind Sadie and stared around. “Now how are we going to get our knickers back?”
The answer came from an unexpected place-right above her head. She heard a smothered giggle, followed by a chorus of shushes.
Polly looked at Sadie, who stared back at her, her face turning red with temper.
Throwing back her head, Sadie yelled, “You’d better bleeding get down here right this minute, or I’ll light this match in my hand and burn this place down with you inside it.”
A scuffling answered her threat, then hushed voices conferred with each other.
“I’m counting to ten!” Sadie yelled. “One… two…”
“All right, all right,” a voice called out. “We’re coming.”
A pair of legs, bared from the knees down and ending in scruffy socks and shoes, descended the creaking stairs from the upper floor. The owner of the legs turned out to be a boy about ten years old, with huge freckles all over his face and a missing front tooth.
He landed with a thump on the floor, due to the three missing steps at the bottom. Behind him tumbled three more boys, one behind the other, none of them older than the first.
Sadie waited for them, one hand on her hip, stick held high, eyes blazing. She made a formidable figure, Polly thought with admiration as her friend pointed the stick at the boys and said in a voice of doom, “You’d better tell me what you’re doing up there, and I want the truth. If I find out you’re lying you’ll all go to jail until you’re twenty-one years old. Your mothers are not going to like that.”
At the mention of their mothers, the boys exchanged nervous glances. “Don’t hit us, miss! We didn’t mean no harm,” the first boy said quickly. “It was a quest, see?”
Lowering the stick, Sadie frowned. “Whatcha mean, a quest?”
“Well,” another boy piped up, “we have a secret club, and you can’t be a member until you’ve brought back a dozen pairs of ladies’ knickers.”
Nervous giggles from the boys greeted this announcement.
In spite of her outrage, Polly felt a tug at her lips and quickly straightened her face. “How many of you are in this club?” she demanded.
“Nine,” the first boy announced. “But me and Timmy are the leaders. The rest are just members. They’re not all here now. Just the ones what had to get the knickers today.”
“So you’re the one who told the others to steal the… unmentionables,” Sadie said, frowning at the boy.
“Yes, miss. We was going to bring them all back, though. Honest!”
“How do you know which ones are which?” Sadie glared at them, looking even more menacing. “How many people did you steal from?”
The boys exchanged nervous glances. “About six or seven,” one of them admitted.
The smallest of the group, a pudgy little boy with short hair that stuck up all over his head, said proudly, “I got mine from the Manor House!”
“Did you now.” Sadie dropped her stick on the ground and crossed her arms. “Just how did you get them down from the line, might I ask?”
“I knocked them off with the prop.” His smug expression faltered a little. “They got a bit dirty. They might need another wash.”
“I’ll wash you, you little…”
Sadie stepped toward him and he backed away, his face crumpling with threatened tears.
“Wait,” Polly said quickly. “Where are all the knickers now?”
This time there was no giggling at the forbidden word. “Up there.” The first boy pointed with his finger.
“What’s your name, son?” Sadie demanded.
“Jimmy, miss.”
“Well, Jimmy, you get back up them stairs and fetch down all them knickers this instant. All of them. You hear me?”
“Yes, miss. Hold on, I won’t be a minute.” He scrambled back up the rickety steps so fast he lost his footing on one of the gaps and stuck his foot through the hole.
Polly held her breath as he dragged it free and climbed on up out of sight. “Those stairs aren’t safe,” she told the other boys. “You could fall down and be killed. Promise me you won’t go up there again.”
“But it’s our meeting place!” one of them wailed.
“Polly’s right,” Sadie said forcefully. “You’ve all got to promise not to go up there again. Find another meeting place. There’s plenty of places around. What about that old barn on Miller’s farm? He never uses it. Ask him if you can meet in there. I bet he won’t mind.”
“And no more stealing knickers,” Polly added, wagging her finger at them. “You’ll have to think of a different quest. All right?”
A chorus of “Yes, miss!” answered her, just as Jimmy appeared on the stairs, his arms full of underwear.
“Throw them down,” Sadie ordered, and the boy let them drop. Some fell with a plop, while the rest fluttered down in a colorful lacy waterfall of silk.
Polly started gathering them up. “We’re going to need some help carrying these back to the bicycles,” she muttered. “I just hope we can get them all in the baskets.”
“We’ll cram them in somehow.” Sadie started picking up the rest of the garments. “Here, you boys, help me pick these up. You can carry them back to the gate for us before you go home.”
The boys obediently pounced on the knickers, which were looking decidedly worse for wear. Sadie waited until the last pair was picked up, then ordered the boys to form a line.
Clutching the underwear to their chests, the boys marched out of the door with Sadie and Polly bringing up the rear.
They were halfway across the field when a sudden shout brought the boys to a halt. Sadie almost fell over them, and Polly stopped dead, unable to believe what she was seeing.
All along the hedges, in front of the gate, all the way around the windmill on either side were men in uniform, all of them carrying rifles pointed ominously in their direction.
“Blimey,” Sadie said, her voice hushed with shock. “It looks like the whole bleeding army’s out there.”
Arriving back at the Reddings’ cottage, Elizabeth was greatly relieved to find Marion alone. T
he questions she needed to ask would be more easily delivered without Bob Redding’s fierce glare to intimidate her.
Obviously surprised to see her renowned visitor twice in one day, Marion invited her in, and Elizabeth wasted no time in coming to the point.
“I’ve just returned from North Horsham,” she told the flustered woman, after refusing her offer of a cup of tea. “I went there to speak to Ned Widdicombe.”
“Ah, yes, the butcher.” Marion sat on the very edge of her couch, her hands twisting in her lap. “Did you find the shop all right?”
“Yes, I did.” Elizabeth laid her purse on her lap. “Not a very sociable man. Rather rude, I thought.”
“He can be very blunt,” Marion agreed. Her gaze shifted to a clock on the sideboard, and Elizabeth wondered if she was expecting her husband home.
“While I was there, I thought I’d stop by and pay a visit to your daughter.”
Marion’s gaze jerked back to Elizabeth’s face. “Sheila? You went to see her?”
Elizabeth leaned forward. “Mrs. Redding, why did you lie about your husband’s whereabouts on Monday night? He wasn’t in North Horsham, was he? The nurse told me he hasn’t visited his daughter since she was admitted to the sanitarium more than two years ago.”
Marion’s face crumpled. “I know it was silly of me, but I was so afraid…” She sniffed, and hunted for a handkerchief in her apron pocket. “Bob was gone until late that night. He said he was helping a mate of his repair his boat and they had a drink or two together afterwards, but when I heard about Clyde Morgan I thought…” Her voice trailed off and she blew her nose hard.
“You thought he might have killed Clyde Morgan,” Elizabeth said gently. “So you decided to give him an alibi.”
Marion nodded. “He was ever so cross with me after you left. He said as how I didn’t trust him, and that he was telling the truth, and that I could talk to Evan and he’d tell me Bob was there all the time until he came home.” She blew her nose again. “That’s his friend’s name, Evan Darby. He’s a fisherman. Lives just down the road.”
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