Time for Silence

by Philippa Carr

It was about a week after our visit to London when I was awakened in the night by the sound of an explosion. My thoughts immediately went to the Zeppelin I had seen when the cottage near La Pinière had been attacked. We had to expect air raids. The Zeppelins were cumbersome objects and good targets for a firing squad, but they did present a great danger.

  I leaped out of bed, put on my dressing gown and slippers and went out of my room.

  Immediately I heard my mother’s voice. “Lucinda…are you all right? Charles…?”

  Charles was already in the corridor. Some of the servants were there and I saw Miss Carruthers.

  “That was a bomb, I am sure,” she said. “It must have been rather close.”

  Mrs. Grey, the cook, had appeared.

  “What was it, do you think, Mrs. Grey?” asked my mother.

  “Sounded just like one of them bombs, Mrs. Greenham.”

  “I’m afraid so. I wonder…”

  We all gathered in the hall where some of the nurses joined us.

  “What time is it?” asked my mother.

  “Just after midnight,” someone replied.

  “Do you think it’s an air raid?”

  “Most likely.”

  “I can’t hear anything more. Do you think they’ll come back?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Mrs. Grey said she thought everyone could do with a cup of tea and if we would like to go to the drawing room, she’d have it sent there. The others could have theirs in the kitchen.

  My mother thought that was a good idea. Everything seemed quiet now and we should hear all about it in the morning.

  Miss Carruthers said, “We must be prepared for any emergency. One only hopes they will not drop anything on the hospital.”

  “They would drop anything anywhere,” said my mother. “Charles, come away from that window. You never know…”

  Reluctantly, Charles moved away.

  “I’d like to fly,” he said. “Fancy being up there in the sky!”

  “Not dropping bombs on people, I hope,” I said.

  “Oh…I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Very noble of you,” I retorted.

  “I’m going to join the Royal Flying Corps.”

  Nobody expressed surprise. Charles was going to take up some new adventurous profession every few weeks.

  Nothing much happened that night, but we were astonished the next morning to learn that it was not a Zeppelin which had dropped the bomb. What we had heard was an explosion that had taken place at Milton Priory.

  We learned it from the postman. Jenner, the butler, had spoken to him when he came with the post and thought what the man had to tell was so interesting that he brought him into the dining room where we were having breakfast.

  “I thought you would like to hear what the postman has to say, Mrs. Greenham,” he said. “It’s about that explosion in the night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the postman. “It’s up at the old Priory…that place where things have been going on lately. They won’t be putting that up for sale now. Looks as if they’s destroyed the place…completely.”

  “How could it have happened?” asked my mother.

  “Well, there’s a mystery for you. Something was wrong. Gas perhaps. You know what that can do. Whatever it might be, that’s the end of Milton Priory.”

  “How very strange!” said Miss Carruthers. “I wonder what the explanation is?”

  “No doubt we shall find out in time,” said my mother.

  When I saw Andrée, she said, “I heard the explosion in the night.”

  “You should have joined us in the drawing room,” I told her. “We did not get to bed until about an hour later. We just sat there talking and speculating as to what might have happened. We all thought then that it had been dropped by a Zeppelin.”

  “Was it?”

  “No. Apparently not. It was caused by something in the house…gas, they say.”

  “How dreadful! I didn’t come down because it had awakened Edward. He was a bit fretful. I couldn’t leave him.”

  “Yes. I guessed that. Was he frightened?”

  “Just a bit. I soothed him and finally he got to sleep.”

  “I expect we shall hear more about this explosion.”

  “I’d like to take a look at it.”

  “Perhaps when Edward is having his nap, we could ride over.”

  We did. The police were at the scene. We rode as close as we could. It was a sight to shock…twisted girders, collapsed walls, piles of bricks…where once that rather lovely old house had stood.

  “There’s little left of it,” said Andrée with a shiver.

  “They’ll never sell it now.”

  “It’s a complete ruin,” went on Andrée. “Have they any idea yet how it happened?”

  “I expect they will soon find out. I wonder who the owners are?”

  “Didn’t someone buy it recently?”

  “I’m not sure whether it was sold or being prepared for a sale.”

  “Well, whatever it was, that’s the end of it.”

  We rode back no wiser.

  Later we heard that the explosion was due to a leakage of gas.

  My father arrived later that afternoon.

  He went over to look at the Priory. He met some official there and, as a Member of Parliament, I suppose, was allowed to go over the remains of the house. It occurred to me that the man might be from one of the ministries, and my father, because the Priory was situated in his constituency, had come down to investigate the mystery.

  I thought he looked distinctly worried.

  Two of the men with whom he had been at the Priory came to dine with us. And at the dinner table it became clear that my father and his guests did not want to talk about the explosion.

  However, the rest of us—my mother, Miss Carruthers, Dr. Edgerton and myself—could not easily dismiss the matter, which was uppermost in our droughts.

  “Lucinda was very curious about the Priory when she saw how changed it was,” my mother was saying. “That was some time ago. We had all made up our minds that it must have been one of those horrible Zeppelins.”

  “We can’t be sure that it was not,” said my father.

  “Oh, no, Joel,” protested my mother. “Those things are so huge. They just seem to hang in the sky. Someone would have seen it.”

  “It is just possible that it quickly dropped the bomb and got away.”

  “But the explosion was so loud,” I said. “People nearby would go out to look. It couldn’t have got away so quickly without being seen.”

  “Well then, perhaps it was not a Zeppelin.”

  “I’ve just thought of something,” I said. “There’s no gas at Milton Priory. How could there be? Nobody ever put it in.”

  “They must have been putting it in now,” replied my father.

  “If they were, surely we should have known,” I said. “No, it wasn’t gas. It wasn’t dropped from the air. So what was it? What a mystery! No doubt we shall find out sooner or later. How I should love to know! It’s really very intriguing. I shan’t rest until I find out.”

  “Well,” said my father, “in the words of our Prime Minister, we must ‘wait and see.’ ”

  It was the following day. I had just finished my session with Miss Carruthers, and as I came out of the schoolroom I saw my mother on the stairs.

  “Lucinda, I wanted to talk to you,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “Come into my sitting room. I don’t want anyone to hear.”

  I was eager to learn what she had to say, and when we reached her room she shut the door and, looking at me anxiously, said, “Sit down.”

  I did so, very puzzled.

  “Lucinda,” she began. “This is very important. It is also secret. But your father and I know you will be discreet; after all, you are no longer a child.”

  I waited apprehensively as she paused, for she was staring ahead, frowning.

  “I know you have been aware of the fact f
or a long time that your father is…well, something more than an ordinary Member of Parliament.”

  “Yes…vaguely. He does go off sometimes, and I know you are a little anxious when he does, and there is, of course, the implication that no questions should be asked.”

  “I wish he were not engaged in all this secrecy. I’m always afraid he will come to some harm. It could have ruined our lives in the beginning, when he was engaged in secret work and I thought he was dead. I married…” She shook her head. “If he had been here, it would have been so different.”

  “I do know something about that.”

  I guessed this preamble was because she was trying to make up her mind to tell me what all this was about.

  “Your father is doing a wonderful job for the country,” she went on. “He has never taken Cabinet rank because of this work. It would not be possible for a minister to do what he is doing. So…he just sits in Parliament. Well, that is a Greenham tradition, and he had to follow it. But it’s all part of the same thing. It’s working for the country.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “There is a matter which has come up. He is going to tell you about it himself. He was reluctant to, but we both thought it best. He asked me to…well, prepare you, as it were. I think he wants to be sure that it will be all right to take you into this secret. In fact he thinks it might be necessary to.”

  “What is this secret?”

  “He is going to tell you. We were discussing it last night and we came to the conclusion that it is the best way. Your father thought at first that you were too young, but, well, everything that has been happening lately has jerked you out of your childhood. You’ll understand and do all you can to help, I know. I’ve convinced him of this. He’s in his study now. Let’s go to him.”

  My father was waiting for us.

  “Here she is,” said my mother. “We can rely on Lucinda. She understands.”

  “Sit down, my dear,” said my father. “This must sound very mysterious to you.”

  “It does,” I answered.

  “Your mother has told you that I am involved in certain matters.”

  “Yes, she has.”

  “It’s about Milton Priory.”

  I was taken aback. “Milton Priory!” I said.

  “Yes, Milton Priory,” he repeated. “You know, don’t you, that you must not give an indication to anyone at any time of this?”

  “I understand that.”

  “I don’t want people talking about it…as you were inclined to do. I want it believed that the explosion was caused by a Zeppelin or a gas leak…something that could happen in any place at any time. I know you were especially interested in the place, but you must stop speculating about it. Keeping the mystery alive arouses people’s curiosity, so you must stop talking of it and if the subject is raised in your presence, do everything you can to divert the conversation away from it. I don’t want people prying…investigating….”

  “Why not?”

  “Listen, Lucinda. The Priory was being used by the Government as a research center. Important experiments were being carried out there. A secret place was needed for these experiments. We are surrounded by spies, as countries are in war. We cannot trust anyone. It was very important for the location of this research to be kept secret. It was on my recommendation that the Priory was chosen. There it was, an almost derelict house, empty for some years. A great amount of work was needed to make it habitable as a residence. It would be acceptable in the neighborhood that people should be there. And there was a show of restoring the place while the essential work was being carried out. That was what was happening at the Priory.”

  My father paused and looked at me.

  “And you think that spies discovered this and blew it up?” I said,

  He nodded “That is exactly what I think. But who? I feel very deeply involved as it was my suggestion that the work should take place there. I had secret documents in London giving important details of the place and the work which was being done.”

  “What work was it?”

  “Too complicated to explain. Experiments with a new armored vehicle which would be valuable on the battlefield. It was being perfected. And now much of the work has been destroyed.”

  “Completely?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. But it will set us back months. The worrying fact is that certain documents in my possession must have been seen by someone who has made use of them—with this result, in the first place, the nature of the work has been revealed to the enemy; in the second place, they have learned where it was being carried out…and in the third place, they have found a means of blowing up the house.”

  “I remember the caretaker and the dog. He was guarding the place, of course.”

  “Now, Lucinda, one of the most alarming aspects of the whole matter is that someone must have got into the London house…someone who had seen secret papers which were kept there for safety. Who could it be? There was no break-in. At least, if there was, I knew nothing about it.”

  “You mean, it could be someone in the house?”

  “Well, not necessarily living there. It could be someone who has access. Perhaps a workman coming to do some job. Your mother and I have talked this over. You were so interested in the Priory. I have explained why I want you to stop talking of it. But there is something more. I want you to be watchful, Lucinda. If you see anything…anyone act suspiciously…let me or your mother know at once…whoever it is. We cannot eliminate anyone from this. You can see what danger there is. I want to know who saw those secret papers in my room, who made it possible for the Priory to be destroyed.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I want to know, too.”

  My mother took my hand. “I’m glad you know about this, Lucinda,” she said.

  “The idea of someone’s coming into the house…going through my papers…is intolerable,” said my father. “It makes one realize how dangerous the times are. So, Lucinda, keep quiet about the Priory. Avoid bringing up the matter…and keep your eyes open.”

  “I will,” I said. “Oh, I will.”

  The Hero

  THE SPRING HAD COME and little seemed to have changed. It would be two years in August since the war had started, and those who had prophesied that it would not last six months were silent. Even the most optimistic no longer believed that the end was in sight.

  I had had two letters from Robert, heavily censored, and I had no idea where he was except that it was “somewhere in France.” He was often in my thoughts, and so was Marcus. I think I was more anxious about Robert, who was out there in acute danger. Marcus at least was safe in a hospital bed, although he must have been badly wounded to have been there so long.

  I had seen Annabelinda at infrequent intervals. She and her mother came to London and stayed at our house, even though we were at Marchlands.

  It was May—a beautiful month, I had always thought—on the brink of summer, the days not yet too hot, and the hedges were white with wild parsley and stitchwort. I took long walks in the forest. It was quiet, just as it had been when William the Conqueror and Henry VIII had hunted there.

  Then I thought of that terrible battlefield where Robert would be. I dreamed about him in the trenches. I could see him with that rather deprecating grin, and I knew I could not bear it if he did not come back. What I wanted to hear more than anything was that he was coming home on one of the troopships…perhaps slightly wounded, enough to keep him with us…as Marcus was.

  We saw little of Uncle Gerald. He was in France now. People were looking grim. There was no longer any excitement about the war—except for people like Charles, whose ideas of it were far from reality.

  Annabelinda came to Marchlands with her mother.

  Aunt Belinda was very effusive. She was involved in all sorts of charities, but knowing Aunt Belinda, I guessed that her main task would be delegation. She would arrange for others to do the work and take credit for it when it was done.

  Perhaps I was unfair in my judg
ment and exaggerated a little, but when I saw how my mother worked, I did feel a little impatient with the Aunt Belindas and Annabelindas of this world.

  “Dear Lucie,” gushed Aunt Belinda. “So busy with all this wonderful work. You’ll be decorated before the war’s over, I’m sure. And you deserve it, dear.”

  “I am rewarded without that,” my mother replied. “It is a joy when you see these men getting better. And we are lucky to have the forest so close.”

  Annabelinda and I rode through the trees. She was rather disgruntled.

  “I’ve had enough of this wretched war,” she said.

  “Do you think you are the only one?” I asked.

  “Certainly I don’t. That’s why someone should put a stop to it. Do you realize I am nearly nineteen years old?”

  “Well, I suppose you must be. I shall be seventeen in September.”

  “We’re getting old. If this miserable war goes on for another two years…just think. What about us?”

  I laughed at her.

  “What’s amusing?” she demanded.

  “I was just thinking about all those men who are out there fighting. Your own brother, for instance. And you ask, what about us!”

  “Oh, Robert will be all right. He always has been.”

  “This is war!”

  “Don’t I know it! I should have had a season by now.”

  “That really is world-shattering.”

  “Don’t try to be a cynic. You’re not clever enough for it. It’s so boring in the country. You must find it so, too. What do you do all day? Old Carruthers must be a bit of a hard taskmistress.”

  “We get on well. I enjoy our lessons.”

  “You would. You were always a bit of a swot.”

  “You were never interested in anything but yourself. Edward is a lot of fun. You might have shared in that.”

  She flushed. “You are a beast, Lucinda.”

  “You’re so unnatural.”

  “It isn’t what I want to be, but what can I do?”

  “Being you…only what you do, I suppose. I’m not complaining. He’s a darling. Andrée and I spend a good deal of time with him, so you see, we are not bored. Then I do a little in the hospital.”

  “What sort of thing?”