by Dawn Harris
Once on the main road, passengers in passing cars craned their necks round to gaze at us open-mouthed, and a cyclist coming from the opposite direction, stared at us so long he forgot to negotiate a corner, and ended up head first in a ditch. He soon clambered out, drenched in ditchwater, but seemingly uninjured, and we had to turn away so that he wouldn’t see us laughing.
Al recovered first and said, ‘Perhaps I should be on the back, Mrs. York. People wouldn’t think it so odd then.’
‘That’s their problem, not ours. You stay where you are. We’ll get to the station much faster with you in front.’ As we set off again, a young man on a motorcycle passed us and cheekily asked if we needed a tow. Al answered in kind, and we reached the station without any further mishaps. Leaping off the tandem, we parked it against a wall, and dashed inside, only to find we’d just missed the Southampton train, and there wasn’t another for an hour. There weren’t any taxis, and that’s when I decided to forget about trains and taxis. If we were to reach Hamble in time to stop the Greenes escaping, the tandem was our best chance. As I said to Al, it was faster than an ordinary cycle. And it would allow us to use a short cut.
First I tried telephoning Inspector Nabber from a call box, but no-one answered, and we set off again, heading for the Woolston ferry. This was a short cut across the Itchen river and gave us a chance to rest our aching legs. The ferry was really just a floating bridge, but it was a pleasant trip, and once on the other side, the road to Hamble was very quiet. But as we passed a signpost that told us we had one mile to go, the back tyre suddenly went flat.
Al looked at it and announced, ‘It’s punctured, Mrs. York.’
I swore under my breath and said, ‘Looks like we’ll have to run then.’
I was thankful during that long mile that I was wearing slacks and flat shoes. But when we finally ran through the village and reached the river, gasping for breath, we were just in time to see the “Sea Mist” sail past on its way out to the Solent. Ginger was on deck with his father at the tiller. We were too late. I thought of Monica’s father in prison, awaiting trial. Ginger, I now believed, was the only person who could save Mr. Taverner. And Ginger was heading for the Atlantic Ocean.
CHAPTER TWENTYONE
There was virtually no wind and the “Sea Mist” was using its motor to get out into the Solent. I watched helplessly as it disappeared into the distance. Unable to stop the Greenes escaping, inevitably my mind latched onto things I ought to have done and hadn’t. Instead of protecting Jean I should have told Inspector Nabber the whole truth. Johnny too. He was searching for a German spy in the secret service and had a right to know what I suspected. I had not done either of those things and if the Greenes got clean away, Mr. Taverner would undoubtedly hang.
I knew I was panicking, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t see how we could stop them now. Once they were out in the Atlantic that would be the end of it. Right did not always prevail and yet, foolishly, I’d expected it to, simply because it should.
Al looked stunned too, but had the sense not to tell me everything would be okay in the end. Like me, he knew how unlikely that was. Only then did I see Bob Stokes, Inspector Nabber’s retired policeman friend, standing with a tanned, muscular yachtsman some distance away. They were watching Edward Greene’s yacht too and hadn’t seen us. On hearing us approach, they turned round and Mr. Stokes’ eyebrows shot up in surprise.
‘Mrs. York, I didn’t expect to see you here.’ He told me he hadn’t seen the Greenes arrive, and as their car wasn’t here, we agreed they must have parked it somewhere quiet and reached their yacht another way, to avoid being noticed. ‘I tried telephoning Inspector Nabber the instant I saw the yacht heading for the Solent, but there was no answer.’
I explained the Inspector was visiting a friend and that my telephone call to his wife had been cut off. ‘If she didn’t answer your call then I hope to heaven she’s done as I asked and gone to tell him what’s happened.’
‘So do I,’ he agreed fervently. And he introduced his companion, Captain Lucas-Brown, a retired naval officer who, he said, was willing to chase after the “Sea Mist” in his motor boat. The captain, who I judged to be about sixty, informed me, ‘I am willing. But not in fog.’
‘Fog?’ I repeated, puzzled. It was hazy but I couldn’t see any fog.
‘If you look in the distance you’ll see it just starting to roll in. It’s getting closer all the time.’ He was right. I hadn’t noticed anything except the “Sea Mist” disappearing from view. ‘Don’t worry. They won’t get away. Only a fool would take a yacht into the Solent in this weather with so many large vessels about. They’ll have to put in somewhere quickly, or turn back.’
'They won’t come back here.’
‘You seem very sure.’
‘I am. They’ll be desperate to get away from Britain.’
Indicating Mr. Stokes, he said, ‘Bob says those men are professional villains, but he’s not at liberty to tell me what they’ve done. Frankly, if I’m to help, I’d like to know.’ His eyes searched mine in a way that made me feel he could read my mind; a technique I had no doubt he’d used to get the truth out of his men when he was in the Navy.
He waited patiently, expecting an honest answer, and if he was to help us, in my view, he was entitled to one. It would be in the newspapers tomorrow anyway. Thus, I explained as briefly as I could about the robbery, and ended by asking, ‘When the fog lifts will you go after them?’
‘Willingly. I hate thieves.’
‘Would you take us with you?’
He looked at me keenly. ‘Have you ever been on a motor boat before?’
I shook my head, only to hear Al say, ‘I have, sir. In the States.’
I swung round to look at him. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘My last boss had a motor boat.’
The captain was instantly interested. ‘And you went with him?’
‘I did, sir. In fact I was the one at the wheel.’
‘You were?’ The captain couldn’t hide his surprise, but quickly covered it up by adding, ‘What I mean is, that’s usually the owner’s privilege.’
‘Yes sir, but he looked at it in the same way as having a chauffeur for his car.’ Al broke into a grin. ‘He sure didn’t know what he was missing.’
‘Indeed he didn’t.’ By now the captain was chuckling too. ‘How did you learn?’
‘I started with books and----.’
‘Books?’ he exclaimed in disbelief.
'They told me what to do. Once we were at sea, I learned fast.’
‘You mean you’d never been in a motor boat before?’ Al shook his head, and the captain gazed at him, astounded by what he was hearing. ‘Didn’t your employer realise he was putting his own life at risk?’
‘Oh sure, but I was risking mine too, sir. That’s what he relied on.’
He eyed my chauffeur with considerable respect. 'The man must be a raving idiot.’
Al made no comment on that, merely saying, 'I spent five years having fun with motor boats, until he got tired of them. I’d like to go to sea again,’ he ended in a wistful tone.
‘Looks like you’ll be getting your chance.’
Thankfully, as we eventually learnt when Inspector Nabber arrived, his wife did take my message straight to him, but by the time he joined us the foghorns were sounding eerily in the Solent and we couldn’t even see Warsash on the other side of the river. We brought the Inspector up to date with everything that had happened, and he stared gloomily at the fog. ‘Well, we can’t do a damn thing about it at the moment.’
The captain, a widower with a son in the Navy, kindly took us all back to his bungalow, where he rustled up tinned soup and sandwiches, followed by chocolate biscuits. We sat talking about the audacity of the robbery and the Inspector commented, ‘The Greenes are greedy buggers. Time they were locked up.’
Luckily the Inspector didn’t mention they were wanted for blackmail and murder too, and I couldn’t tell him they were
probably only robbers, not without making him look foolish in front of the others, so I kept quiet, certain I’d soon get the chance to speak to him.
During a break in conversation, the captain asked Al how he came to be in England, and Al told him briefly about his boss leaving him stranded. ‘It wasn’t funny at the time, but I’m grateful to him now.’
‘Grateful?’ Bob Stokes echoed, real horror in his voice.
‘I might have worked for him all my life otherwise.’
The captain asked, ‘Why didn’t you leave him before?’
‘Well sir, he swore he’d never give me a reference if I left, and I needed that to get a decent job. I might have chanced it if it hadn’t been for my mother. She had arthritis real bad and couldn’t work, and most of what I earned went on food and medicine for her. Until she died last year.’ That left them both speechless again and Al went on, ‘It wasn’t all bad. Apart from the motor boat, he had some beautiful cars and I also learnt to ride horses. He never spoke to me, except to give orders, and I simply did what he said. He had no idea what went on in my mind and, luckily, every summer they went away for a couple of months. Europe, Canada, Asia, Africa, South America. I was left at home with orders to look after the cars, help with exercising his horses, which I loved, and to assist the gardener. That still gave me plenty of free time.’
‘What did you do with it, Al?’ the Inspector asked.
‘I educated myself. My schooling wasn’t up to much, and he had this swell library. It was only to impress visitors, he never touched a book himself, but I must have read most of them. When he was home, I spent hours waiting for him at the golf club, and I read then too. Sometimes business took him to a place within driving distance, and I used to go to art galleries, museums and theatres. He thought I hung out in bars.’
The Inspector commented, ‘You are a remarkable man, Al.’
I’d learnt all this and much more in the few weeks Al had been my chauffeur, but only through asking questions. If I didn’t ask, he didn’t volunteer the information. Yet, everything he told me always had a positive side to it. He was, as the Inspector said, a remarkable man. Such treatment could so easily have made him surly and bitter, but he said he only had one life and he refused to waste it by wallowing in bitterness.
That was the day I told him the job was his permanently, if he wanted it. ‘I’d like to stay, Mrs. York,’ he’d said, his face breaking into a wide grin. ‘I’m very happy here.’
As this went through my mind, the captain turned the wireless on to listen to the news, and the weather and shipping forecasts that followed. ‘Be handy to know what to expect.’
We were heartened to hear that a strengthening wind would blow away the fog overnight; but it was the national news that stunned me. It hadn’t occurred to me that the robbery would be the main headline. The newsreader told us, in sober terms, that the value of the items stolen from Kelfield Hall was about £60,000. We all gasped; even I hadn’t expected it to be such a vast sum. Jean and Arthur’s large house in the heart of Belgravia wasn’t worth a quarter of that. The Greenes could live like kings for the rest of their lives. If they got away.
We listened in silence to the details of how the thieves had struck while the guests were enjoying a sea trip round the Isle of Wight, and the servants were having their mid-day meal. It was suggested the thieves must have known the layout of the house, and later I remembered the detailed drawings of bedrooms that I’d found in Edward Greene’s waste paper basket, which even showed the light switches. I wondered how they’d acquired such information, although I was certain the Inspector would find that out.
The newsreader ended the report by saying, “The police would like to interview Mrs. Lydia York in connection with the robbery. She was last seen leaving the grounds of Kelfield Hall on a tandem, accompanied by her chauffeur.”
The Inspector choked on the biscuit he was eating. ‘A tandem, Mrs. York?’ And he chortled with glee, ‘What did you do with the loot? Leave it in a ditch?’
I sniffed. ‘Oh, very funny, Inspector.’
‘Even in Abergavenny no-one ever made their getaway on a tandem. What happened to your Rolls?’
‘It had an oil leak,’ Al explained.
‘Surely there were other cars at the house?’
‘Ginger slashed all the tyres,’ I said. ‘He didn’t bother with the tandem.’
The Inspector started to chuckle again. ‘Who was at the front?’
‘Al was,’ I said. ‘He’s stronger than me.’
The Inspector roared with laughter. ‘I’d give a week’s wages to have seen that.’
His laughter was so infectious he set the rest of us off too. I couldn’t believe we were all so cheerful, when the villains had escaped and everything looked black. Eventually the Inspector took out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes and warned, ‘Well, don’t let the local police see you, or you’ll find yourself in clink. Probably on bread and water.’
‘I won’t,’ I said and asked Bob Stokes if the Greenes had taken anything onto the yacht.
Without hesitation he said, 'The father carried a small suitcase. The son had nothing.’
‘You’re absolutely sure of that?’
‘I am.’
‘Is that important?’ Inspector Nabber asked, watching my face intently. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking, Mrs. York?’
‘I’m thinking about what they’ll need to buy before sailing across the Atlantic.’ He looked puzzled and I went on, 'I imagine the stolen jewellery was in that suitcase, and there’s plenty of tinned food on the boat, but what about fresh milk, bread and fruit? They couldn’t pick that up until the last minute.’
‘Fresh water too,’ Al pointed out. 'They can’t cross the Atlantic relying on rain water.’
‘Which means,’ I said, my hopes rising again, ‘stopping somewhere in England.’
'The fog will force them to do that anyhow,’ Captain Lucas-Brown pointed out.
I shook my head. ‘Fog won’t stop them. Not after the risks they’ve taken.’
The captain got up and looked out at the dense fog. ‘I wouldn’t go to sea in this.’
Inspector Nabber pulled at his ear. ‘You haven’t just stolen jewellery worth sixty thousand pounds. Mrs. York is right. They won’t hang about.’ He turned to me and said, ‘I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought. Where do you think they’ll put in?’
‘Well, they probably left Hamble in a hurry in case the robbery was discovered quickly. If that happened the whole area would be swarming with police.’
‘Go on,’ the Inspector urged. ’Where would they head for?’
‘It could be anywhere along the south coast,’ the captain warned.
‘Indeed,’ I agreed. ‘Or possibly the Isle of Wight. That’s not far. And it isn’t on the mainland.’
Inspector Nabber slapped his left hand across his knee in delight. ‘By heaven, Mrs. York, I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. While we foolish London coppers are scouring the south coast, our villains nip over the Solent, pick up the last minute necessities and make a quick getaway across the Atlantic.’
‘I could be wrong,’ I pointed out.
‘True,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think you are. It’s exactly the sort of devious behaviour I’d expect from these men.’
‘That’s if they weren’t mown down by some big ship in the fog,’ the captain remarked. ‘And if we’re to have a hope of catching them we must leave the instant the fog’s gone.’ He suggested we all slept on board his boat, assuring us there were enough bunks for everyone. 'There’s even a separate area for you, Mrs. York.’
Remembering we’d left the tandem on the roadside, I asked the captain if he’d store it until it could be fetched. He kindly agreed, and Al went to get it.
Later we all strolled down to the captain’s beautiful, and rather grand boat, where Bob Stokes offered to keep watch on the weather overnight, insisting we all needed our sleep more than he did. Once in my bunk I thought of Jo
hnny again, but not wanting to embarrass anyone I fought back the tears and made myself concentrate on the Greenes, praying they were in Cowes. What if I was wrong? What if I’d made another terrible mistake? Like I had by assuming they were blackmailing Jean. Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned, terrified of what the day would bring. Finally I dropped off to be woken at daybreak with the good news that the fog had dispersed, to leave clear skies and a pleasant breeze.
Captain Lucas-Brown made a fast passage across the Solent to Cowes, but there was no sign of the “Sea Mist” among the many yachts moored there. I sank into despair; I had got it wrong and the Greenes would be well away at sea by now. And, without Ginger, we could not prove Mr. Taverner was innocent.
CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
With a sinking heart I suggested we try Yarmouth. A slim chance, but it was the only one we had. These villains wouldn’t hang about. It wasn’t far, yet it seemed to take an eternity to reach. As the boat cut through the waves into what was fast becoming a stiffening breeze, I sat gazing ahead, certain I’d ruined everything. We should have listened to the captain, whose knowledge of ports of call was far superior to mine. Inspector Nabber tried to cheer me up with tales of his own failures, but unlike mine, none had cost a man’s life, and I could barely manage a dutiful smile.
Yarmouth was smaller than Cowes and I didn’t really hold out much hope of finding the “Sea Mist” there. Yet, incredibly, it was the very first yacht we came across, and the relief I felt was so overwhelming I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat. We were only just in time too; Edward Greene was making preparations to sail.
‘Is that him?’ the Inspector asked me.
‘Without question.’
While Al and I hurried below in case he recognised us, the captain moored his boat next to theirs and greeted Edward Greene in the manner of sailors all over the world, admiring his yacht and discussing its finer points, before asking jovially, ‘Going somewhere nice?’