by Leo McNeir
“Are you saying it was the ethnic communities’ fault that they were attacked like the Jews were attacked by the Nazis?”
Mrs Wilkinson retorted. “Are you saying that we should push our own children into the front line, like human shields?”
All over the hall arguments were breaking out. Mrs Wilkinson was not alone in her doubts, but others were appalled by the implication of what she was saying. Marnie suddenly stood to face the audience. A hush began to settle. Estelle sank back onto her seat. Marnie looked at Margaret Giles, who nodded back.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Marnie began. The formality of her tone calmed the situation. She spoke slowly and clearly. “I think we run the risk of losing sight of what is being proposed here. The programme will be based in a school like any other summer scheme, but the children will be going off each day on outings and activities. They’ll be away from the school. The scheme will be run by the whole community, not a particular section of it. And it will benefit all the children who take part. The charge is small, so anyone can join in. That’s all it is. Let’s keep things in perspective.”
Marnie sat down. From her seat a few rows back, Mrs Wilkinson spoke up again.
“And it’s being run by people who are in the front line as targets of aggression.”
The tumult was rising again when a loud voice, a man’s voice, came from the back of the hall.
“There is a very unfortunate undercurrent to this meeting.”
Every head in the hall was turned towards the new speaker. Marnie recognised the voice, but without standing she could not locate him. Anne had also turned, and her expression of curiosity turned to surprise and dismay.
“This discussion is getting out of hand,” the man continued. “The plain fact is that the situation is being blown up out of all proportion.”
Marnie tried not to wince at the unfortunate turn of phrase. No-one else seemed to notice it. The man continued.
“Mrs Walker is quite right. It’s a summer holiday scheme. Let’s not play into the hands of those individuals who are trying to destabilise our country. We fought wars against fascists. You defeat them by standing up to them.” He prodded the air. “We’re not pushing our children and grandchildren into a battle zone as human shields. They’re just going out to play with other children.”
“Aren’t you making a rather big assumption?” said Mrs Wilkinson, half rising. “Can we trust these people to look after our children and have the same standards as ourselves?”
“With respect, Sylvia, I think you are making the big assumption. You assume that because the scheme is being run by West Indians, it will not be as good as if it was run by people like us.” He paused. “Speaking as a West Indian myself – by birth – I can assure you that there is no merit in prejudice.”
A frisson of surprise went round the hall. Everyone present paused for reflection before renewed murmurings broke out in every part of the gathering. Surprised expressions were the order of the day. Serena and Luther, who had never met before that day, stared at each other in bewilderment. Estelle laid a hand on Luther’s arm. Members of the audience asked their neighbours if they had heard the intervention correctly. The centre of everyone’s attention, the man who had spoken up from the back of the hall, was George Stubbs.
Margaret Giles took control, decisively seizing the moment.
“I think we’ve gone as far as we can today. I’d like to suggest that you all consider the points raised and let me have your enrolment forms by tomorrow morning. Thank you for attending the meeting. Special thanks to Mrs McDowell and Mrs Vane-Henderson, and to all of you who spoke from the floor. Good afternoon.”
As Marnie reached down to pick up her shoulder-bag from beside the chair, Anne grabbed her arm.
“Look at the door at the back,” she whispered urgently.
They had to stand, as everyone was on their feet blocking the view. Marnie strained to see.
“What am I looking for?”
Anne rose on tiptoe, steadying herself with a hand on Marnie’s shoulder. She looked exasperated and sighed audibly.
“What is it, Anne?”
“He was there.” She spoke softly. The Kapitän … at the back of the hall. He’d come to see what was happening, like he was spying on us.”
“Are you sure?”
“How could I be mistaken? He looked right at me.”
Marnie was puzzled. “One mystery solved … another one arises.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, at least we know he wasn’t the body in the ruins. If the body was the fire-bomber, it wasn’t our friend from across the cut.”
“And the other mystery?”
“Who’d have thought that George Stubbs was a West Indian?”
Serena appeared at Marnie’s side.
“You never told me you had a West Indian community in Knightly St John.” She was smiling. “Do the pubs stay open in the afternoon around here?”
They left Margaret Giles talking with Dorothy Vane-Henderson on the platform and filed towards the door where George Stubbs could be seen in conversation with Angela Hemingway, the vicar. Marnie found her way blocked by the tall parent who had cast doubt on the play scheme.
“Mrs Walker …”
“Marnie.”
“Marnie, I’m Sylvia Wilkinson. There’s something I want to ask you, and I’m not the only one who needs an answer.”
“I think we’re going over to the Two Roses. Would you like to join us?”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I have to get back to collect the children from my mother’s. I wanted to ask if you really believe the children will be safe on this play scheme. You’ve seen the bombed building, you’re involved with the community, so I reckon you must have a feel for how things really are.”
“Sylvia, I don’t have a crystal ball, and I don’t have children of my own. All I can say is I genuinely do not believe anyone would try to harm the children taking part. Skulduggery against a building during the night, riots against the police, that’s one thing. Attacking children, no. That I definitely do not believe will happen.”
“Well,” said Sylvia, “when you put it like that …” She smiled at Marnie and extended it to Serena and the others before turning to leave.
Before she could move away, Marnie spoke again. “There’s something I don’t understand. You said I’d been to the building. How did you know that?”
“I saw the photograph in the newspaper. You were talking to a police officer. The report said you were redesigning the building, or something like that.”
When they reached the door, George was still talking to Angela. Marnie asked if they wanted to join them for a drink, but Angela said she had to dash to another meeting. Her parting shot was that she would do whatever she could to help. George accepted and beamed at Marnie, pleased to be invited.
Spilling out onto the pavement through the school gate, they bumped into Ronny Cope passing on his bike. He stopped beside them.
“What’s this?” he said to Anne.
“We’ve been to a parents’ meeting about the summer play scheme.”
“We’re going over to the Two Roses,” said Marnie. “Care to join us? My treat.”
The group settled at a table by the window, and George insisted on buying the drinks. Luther went with him to the bar to help carry the glasses.
“What was that about him being a West Indian?” said Serena in a low voice. “Did you know that, Marnie?”
Ronny looked amazed and mouthed West Indian, Mr Stubbs? at Anne. She shrugged.
“Unbelievable,” said Marnie. “His family have been in these parts since the Middle Ages, probably since the Dark Ages – sorry, no joke intended. How did you think the meeting went, Serena?”
“Not too bad, though I did think at one point – when that tall woman got up – that she was going to be awkward. I’m still not sure about her.”
“I don’t think she meant to sound as prejudiced as she came over,” said Ma
rnie. “She spoke to me at the end, and I think she’s just worried about her kids’ safety. It’s only natural.”
“Of course,” said Serena. “My own kids’ are too young right now, but in a few years’ time …”
“You really think there could be any danger?” said Estelle. “Could you really think of calling it off? I thought it was like a crusade for you.”
“Like Marnie said, it’s a summer play scheme, not a matter of principle. If I thought any child could get hurt, I’d walk away tomorrow.”
“But you won’t,” said Marnie. “You see this as one way of protecting the youngsters.”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
George and Luther placed the drinks down on the table and passed them round.
“So you’re a West Indian, George?” said Marnie, grinning. “That’s a new one on me.”
“My father was a young captain in the army and was doing a tour of duty in Jamaica when war broke out. My mother had joined him, stayed on because it was too dangerous to cross the Atlantic unless absolutely necessary, and I came along in the fullness of time.”
“But presumably you have a British passport?” said Luther.
“That was quite a saga, I can tell you. I came back to Britain on my mother’s passport, of course, at the end of the war, and stayed on it whenever we travelled abroad for holidays. It was quite a long time before I needed one for myself alone, and when I applied, I was told I wasn’t entitled to a British passport as a right. I was a Jamaican!”
“Same as me, then,” said Serena, laughing. “We’re both Jamaicans!”
Luther roared with laughter. “And as I was born in London, I’m the only true-born Englishman of the three of us!”
“So technically you’re still a Jamaican citizen?” Estelle said to George.
“No, but it was a close-run thing. In the end I was able to point out that my family were noted in Debrett’s Landed Gentry going back to the 1600s, so I was able to reclaim my birthright. No offence to you two – and I love the land where I was born – but we are what we are, and I’m as English as roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.”
They drank a toast to Jamaica and roast beef. As they lowered their glasses, George licked his lips and made an offer.
“Now look here, if there’s anything I can do to help with this summer scheme, let me know. I’m semi-retired these days, so my time’s largely my own.”
“That’s very generous, Mr Stubbs,” said Serena.
“George.”
“Thank you, George. You make me feel ashamed that I was wavering about it at all.”
“Nonsense.” He twinkled his most charming smile. Marnie and Anne, who recognised it from past experience, tried not to wince. “Anyway, we Jamaicans must stick together!”
He raised his glass for another toast.
*
Arriving back at Glebe Farm on foot, Marnie headed for the office barn to round off the day’s work, while Estelle and Luther returned to their cottage. Anne noticed that Bob the foreman’s car was still on site, and she walked round to the rear of the farmhouse to find him locking the garden door.
“Still here, Bob? You’re late. It’s well past your bedtime.”
“Yeah, well I had to hang on for this delivery.” He nodded towards the door. “We had all the pipework and radiators due from Nuneaton … didn’t want them just left outside, so I waited for them to come. Everything’s in the house now, safe and sound.”
“Can I get you a cup of tea before you go?”
“No thanks, me dook. I’ll just be off home.”
“Good night, then. See you tomorrow.”
She turned to go.
“Did he catch up with you, your boyfriend, on his bike?”
“My …? Oh, Ronny, yes.” She laughed gently, taking his remark as a joke. “We all went to the pub for a drink after the meeting.”
“Right. Nice bikes, those. My eldest’s got one.”
Anne had never really noticed Ronny’s bike. It was just an ordinary tourer in dark green, as far as she recalled. She made a mental note to have a good look at it next time he came down. Bob wiped his hands on his jeans as they walked round the side of the house together.
“Course, there aren’t many of them about now, stopped making Muddy Fox, so I hear. Pity. They’re very good. And I always liked the yellow ones best.”
Anne stopped abruptly. “What did you say?”
“They’ve stopped making –”
“About it being yellow.”
“Yellow, that’s right. With the name in black and those funny pawprints going up the frame. Always reminds me of Bugs Bunny, somehow.”
“Bob, you asked if he’d found me.”
The foreman was now looking confused. “And you said he had.”
“He came here, then?”
“Getting on for an hour ago, yes. I saw him looking in at the window. I was upstairs in number three, so I called down and told him you’d gone out.”
“Did he actually say he was looking for me, by name?”
Bob thought about it. “Don’t think so. I just assumed it was you he was after. He looks more your age, not like one of Marnie’s clients. And they don’t usually come by bike.”
“You didn’t think he might have been an intruder?”
“Not really. He looked relaxed enough, I’d say. Just like the other lad who comes down here sometimes. He wasn’t shifty-looking or anything. Isn’t he a friend of yours, Anne?”
“Not exactly, more an acquaintance.”
*
There was a lot to do in the office. They had lost a sizeable chunk of the afternoon by attending the meeting and adjourning to the pub. Marnie had immersed herself in preparing a presentation for Willards and studying Estelle’s revised Umbria design. It would soon be time for her visit to Italy, and Marnie had to resist a growing desire to take off with her for a few days’ break.
Faced with Marnie’s intense concentration, Anne did not feel she could interrupt to tell her about the conversation with Bob. It was not until they locked the office and turned their faces towards the spinney that Anne mentioned what Bob had said.
“He came looking for you?” said Marnie.
“Seems like it. Bob thought he was a friend of mine because he came on a bike.” She rolled her eyes.
“I can understand that. When I saw him across the canal, I thought he looked quite young, slight build, fair hair.”
“Bit worrying, isn’t it?” said Anne. “It gave me quite a shock when I saw him lurking at the back of the school hall.”
“Lurking? Is that how you’d describe it?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd, to come after me like that?”
“It was a public meeting.” Marnie stopped walking. “Hang on a minute. Let’s think this through. Here we are blithely heading towards the boats, not giving a thought to what we might be walking into.” She scanned the spinney in all directions. Anne peered through the trees, straining to catch any sound of movement. “What does it mean, that he came looking for you at the office and then followed you to the school meeting?”
“It means I’m shivering up and down my spine, for a start.”
Marnie put an arm round Anne’s shoulders. “But is there any cause for worrying? There might be a perfectly harmless explanation.”
“You don’t think being stalked is just a little bit sinister, Marnie?”
“Well, one thing’s for sure. We can’t stand here in the spinney all night. I suggest we act normally, go back to the boat and prepare supper. Would you prefer to sleep in the saloon on Thyrsis tonight?”
“Why not? That should make it easier for him to wipe us both out in one go,” Anne said cheerfully.
Marnie squeezed Anne’s shoulder before releasing her grip. It was intended to reassure and comfort. But as they moved off she was thinking how easy it would be for someone with malign intent to smash one of the boat’s windows, someone who had knowledge of making fire bombs. She hoped the
same idea had not occurred to Anne.
“What if he lobbed a Molotov cocktail into the cabin?” said Anne quietly. “We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Marnie tried not to shudder. “There’s no reason why anyone would want to do that.” She hoped she sounded convincing.
“Not even our friendly local neo-Nazi-fascist-thug-mastermind who happens to have followed us to a meeting at which we publicly demonstrate our support for the West Indians and their summer scheme?”
Marnie touched Anne’s arm as they reached the docking area, and they came to a halt. She put a finger to her lips for silence and gestured to Anne to stay where she was. Advancing towards Thyrsis, she was bent forward for concealment behind Ralph’s boat, wishing that he was with them. Anne saw her straighten gradually to look over the top of the cabin. Marnie stood upright and beckoned Anne to come forward. Anne advanced like a commando approaching an enemy blockhouse.
“It’s all right,” said Marnie in her normal voice.
“No bike?” said Anne drawing nearer.
“No boat. He’s gone.”
*
They decided that the visitor was either playing out some devilish tactic of withdrawing to a distance to lull them into a false sense of security prior to launching a surprise attack, or he had simply gone on his way. It did not occur to them that there might be a third possibility. By the time they had finished supper, Anne decided that she felt braver and could return to her attic room for the night. Marnie opted for the modern facilities on Thyrsis and reflected on the day’s events while she turned beneath the hot jets of the electric shower.
That night Ralph had left the post-conference dinner early to phone Marnie from his hotel without fear of being cut off. He had nothing of significance to report and immediately wanted to know what was happening at home. He had read in the papers about attacks and burnings and was in agony to know that Marnie and Anne were safe and well. Marnie tried to sound cheerful.
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “I want to know what’s going on. From what I read in the Mediterranean edition of the Guardian, last night was like a re-run of Kristallnacht.”