‘Everything all right?’
‘My dear, look.’
He wandered across and looked up to where she was pointing. Above the reception desk was an oil painting of a distinguished-looking officer in full uniform, wearing a pompous expression. Underneath, it read: Major Niven Short, Patron.
‘Good Lord!’
Molly reappeared. ‘I’ve found someone who knew of your Captain Carlton.’
‘Splendid. I say, before we go through, I notice that Major Short is a patron of the hospital. Does he live nearby?’
‘I think so. My friend Sally’ll know. She’s been here a few years and knows everything. Follow me.’
Juliet went ahead. A flutter of excitement rushed through him as he sensed a possible breakthrough.
Molly led them through to a huge, airy room that looked out toward the English Channel. It was easily the size of a tennis court and had a number of plush armchairs scattered about. There were various large tables where a number of men were playing cards, chess and draughts. A large Christmas tree stood in the corner and paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Paintings of the countryside and spring meadows provided a relaxed and pleasant environment.
About twenty men were in the room and those who were not playing games sat reading or smoking pipes or cigarettes. Some appeared oblivious to anything or anyone and simply stared into space. Those who were aware of their surroundings and themselves waved a greeting; a couple of men stood up when they saw Juliet. She insisted they sit down. Molly chuckled. ‘Real gents, aren’t they? Always standing up when a lady comes in.’
In the middle of the room, she turned to face them. ‘I’m going to introduce you to Corporal Fluff Irwin.’
James was aware that he must have looked a little bemused. Molly explained that Fluff was a nickname.
‘He tried to grow a moustache when he enlisted but it ended up like a piece of cottonwool, so he was nicknamed Fluff and it’s stuck ever since. Anyway, Fluff suffered terribly with shell-shock at the end of the war and he came straight here in 1918. He’s come on leaps and bounds but he’s one of those who wouldn’t last five minutes in the real world.’
‘Are there any subjects we should avoid?’
‘Oh no, he’s doesn’t get troubled or lash out or anything; he’s just a bit simple.’ She led them across to a chair by a large window. ‘Fluff, you’ve got some visitors.’
James helped Molly manoeuvre two armchairs across. Fluff gazed at them, his eyes bright with anticipation.
‘They’ve come to see me, Molly?’
‘That’s right. Not just anybody neither. This is Lord James Harrington and his friend Juliet Brooks-Hunter.’
James and Juliet shook hands with him and declared how delighted they were to meet him. He wore grey trousers and a chunky cricket jumper. He no longer sported a moustache but he still retained a mop of greying hair. His eyes had innocence about them, as if he’d never seen anything bad in his life. James hoped that he hadn’t deleted the memory of the war completely. Molly announced that she’d leave them to it and would be back with fresh tea. Fluff held his hand up.
‘Can I have some cake, Molly?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I can do you a slice of walnut or lemon sponge.’
His eyes opened wide. ‘Cor, lemon sponge.’
James and Juliet placed the same order.
‘I’ve never had a Lord visit before. Are you related to the Queen?’
‘I’m afraid not, Fluff. I have met her though; just the once.’
‘She’s pretty.’
Aware that he needed to gain Fluff’s trust as you would a child, they spent some time chatting about his life and hobbies. Juliet, like Beth, had the knack of making people feel comfortable. The tea and cake arrived and over the next twenty minutes James learned that Fluff was originally from Balcombe, a tiny village outside Haywards Heath, and that his family were farmers. Before the war, Fluff helped get the horses ready to plough the fields and in the evenings, he’d shoot rabbits for the weekend stew. He had a sister but she died and his parents succumbed to the flu pandemic shortly after the conflict. He was now on his own. James’ heart went out to him. The story was told as if by a ten year-old – in a very matter-of-fact way as if Fluff didn’t really understand how serious it all was. Fluff shifted in his chair and brought out a bald teddy bear with one eye missing.
‘This is Pinky.’
Juliet stroked the bear. ‘My dear, how sweet. Where did you get him?’
‘I’ve had him since I was tiny. I call him Pinky ’cos he’s pink.’ He chuckled.
James chuckled along with him. ‘Did he join the army with you?’
Fluff nodded and then whispered. ‘He didn’t sign his papers. I smuggled him in my kit bag.’
‘I say, he’s been on a lot of adventures with you.’
The man rocked in his seat and gave Pinky a cuddle. ‘He came to France with me. I kept him warm in the quarters. I put a note on him to say where he lived just in case I died.’ He met James’ gaze. ‘Some of my friends didn’t come back. But that’s all right, they’re in heaven now.’
‘And you knew Captain William Carlton, is that right?’
‘That’s right. We were all together.’
‘Can you remember what year that was?’
‘I was 15.’ He chuckled and whispered again. ‘I was under-age. Shouldn’t have joined up. I’d just celebrated my birthday. 5th of January 1917.’
Juliet smiled fondly. ‘You must have been one of the brave men asked to go on a special mission. How exciting for you.’
‘No, that weren’t me. They never asked me.’ He grinned. ‘I knew about it though. They should’ve asked me. I would’ve done a good job. They thought I was too young. But I wasn’t. I shot rabbits when I was five. I’m not an idiot.’
James assured him that they couldn’t imagine anyone thinking he was an idiot and encouraged him to tell his story, in particular, anything to do with the mission.
‘It was a secret. No one was supposed to know but I was friends with a couple of ’em. We used to smoke cigarettes together and share chocolate. I like chocolate. Molly brings me chocolate. She likes me.’
Juliet held Fluff’s hand. ‘And who did you know on the mission?’
‘Pete and Arthur.’
James pulled out the paper he’d been writing on and checked the names. ‘Peter Shotover and Arthur Strong.’
Fluff looked at him in amazement. ‘D’you know ’em?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t but I’m interested to hear about them. Pete was here for a while, wasn’t he?’
‘I liked Pete. He was a Pal. Arthur never came back. He went to shoot a German and never came back.’
‘This was during the mission?’
Fluff shifted in his chair. ‘Something bad happened.’
James’ his heart skipped a beat. ‘Can you tell me what?’
The man scanned the room and chuckled again. ‘I’ll only tell you if you promise not to tell. If that Captain Carlton finds out, he’ll tell me off. I like it here. I don’t want to be taken away.’
‘My dear, they’ll have to get past us first. You will remain here for as long as you please.’
He positively beamed at her. After one more cursory look around the room Fluff leant forward. ‘Captain Carlton wanted to blow up a trench opposite us with Germans in. He didn’t choose any soldiers from his section – he went over to get Pete and Arthur and there were two others too. I didn’t know them but they was all together. The regulars had a name for Captain Carlton.’
James tilted his head. ‘Oh?’
‘Custard Carlton.’ He chuckled again and nudged James. ‘You know what that means, don’t you?’
‘Do you?’
‘I didn’t used to. I thought it was because he liked custard.’ He whispered. ‘It means coward. Cowardy custard.’ He chuckled to himself.
‘Extraordinary,’ said Juliet, ‘why would they call a distinguished officer such a thing?’<
br />
Fluff nibbled his lip. ‘They say he never went with ’em.’
‘Never went with who?’
‘The men. The men went to the trench but one didn’t come back. Captain Carlton went half way. He said he was injured but he didn’t look injured. Pete said he let the men take the post while he hid. I’m good at hiding. We used to play hide and seek on the farm.’
‘The man who didn’t come back, do you know what happened to him?’
‘He got killed. Do you want the rest of your cake?’
James handed him the remainder of his sponge. ‘So one was killed on the mission and three came back to their unit. Peter Shotover, Arthur Strong and Archibald Franks.’
‘Archie got shot.’ He looked down. ‘That’s not a nice thing to do.’
‘And Arthur Strong? What happened to him?’
Fluff held Pinky tight and his eyes shifted from side to side. James squeezed his forearm. ‘It’s all right, Fluff, I’m not going to tell anyone.’
‘Cross your heart?’
‘Cross my heart.’
Fluff answered in a quiet whisper, ‘Custard Carlton killed ’im.’
James stared at Juliet and then at Fluff. ‘Are you quite sure?’
The man appeared strained. ‘Arthur threatened ’im. I don’t why but I ’eard that Carlton killed him; made out that he’d run away. But he ’adn’t run away.’
Molly appeared behind them. ‘Do you want more tea?’
James and Juliet declined but Fluff requested another slice of lemon sponge announcing to all that it was his favourite. Once he’d settled back with his cake, James continued. ‘So Peter Shotover was the only one left.’
‘He came here. He was my friend but he couldn’t stop shaking. We played tiddly-winks. He liked that but he couldn’t keep his hands still. I had to help him flip the counters.’
‘But he got better, didn’t he?’
Fluff stared at the floor. ‘He went home to his family.’ He stuck out his bottom lip. ‘My family are in heaven.’
James felt Juliet grip his arm. ‘My dear, he had family?’
‘He had a son. His son was married and they had a little girl.’
‘Are you still in touch with him?’
‘He’s in heaven. He shot himself.’ Fluff bit into his sponge and began to chat to Pinky. ‘Shame you got no appetite, Pinky, this is right lovely sponge.’ He looked at James. ‘I’m a bit tired now.’
‘Of course, we’re sorry to have taken up so much time.’
As they stood, Fluff grabbed James’ hand. ‘Will you visit again? I don’t get many visitors and I like you. And you,’ he added to Juliet.
‘We’ll be sure to stop by.’
Back in Reception, Molly handed him a slip of paper with Niven Short’s address on it. James thanked her. ‘Molly, is Fluff allowed out?’
‘As long as he’s with someone responsible. Why?’
‘I wonder if he’d like to be a guest at our pantomime in Cavendish. I could arrange to pick him up and drop him back here.’
Molly put her hands together. ‘Oh, he’d love that. Let us know when and what time and we’ll make sure he’s ready for you.’
Satisfied with their visit, James and Juliet made their way to the car. He opened the passenger door for her.
‘James, I’m beginning to dislike Carlton more and more. Are we now paying a visit to Niven Short?’
‘I think so. I believe Carlton is there, don’t you? Be interesting to see what they both have to say for themselves.’
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Major Niven Short lived in a detached house about two miles along the coast from the convalescent home. The house was a 1930s style residence with bay windows and a small garden. Clearly, this man didn’t have the wealth in his family that William Carlton had. James took his gloves off and rapped on the door using the lion’s head door knocker.
When the door opened, he couldn’t hide his surprise. The painting above the reception in the Royal Sussex depicted Niven Short as a pompous oaf but the man standing in front of him was anything but. He stood around the same height as James and wore clothes more in keeping for a country walk. He looked welcoming and swung the door wide.
‘Hello? Come to see me or are you lost?’
‘Major Short?’
‘Guilty as charged. Do I know you?’
James began the introductions and asked whether they could perhaps speak with him about his army days. Suspicion darkened his face. ‘May I ask why?’
Juliet stood straight. ‘We’d like to know about your service career with Major William Carlton or, as he was back then, Captain Carlton.’
‘Ah, now, just a minute. He’s not here if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Which means he was here,’ Juliet put in.
‘What? Well, no, well, I mean to say___’
James suggested he invite them in for a chat. ‘I don’t want to involve the police, Major Short. You do know they’re looking for him, don’t you?’
‘He’s done nothing wrong! Poor chap’s just lost his wife, you’re aware of that, are you?’
‘She was murdered at Harrington’s, I’m hardly likely to forget it.’
A silent bell seemed to ring in the Major’s head. ‘Ah, yes, Lord Harrington! Of course, you’re the owner, aren’t you?’ He suddenly looked resigned. ‘You’d better come in.’
As they followed him through to the front room, Juliet nudged James and winked at him. Clearly she was as excited about this as he felt himself. The room was a cosy one with a fire roaring in the grate and a small Christmas tree in the corner with presents lying underneath. On the mantelpiece were family photographs. Copies of magazines and books lay on the sofa and small coffee table. The Major gestured for them to take a seat.
‘The wife’s out at the moment; shopping. I’d rather we have this conversation before she gets back.’
‘Of course.’
He made for a bureau where he grabbed a bottle of whisky and three glasses. ‘Oban single malt. Will you partake?’
James and Juliet both nodded. He poured the drinks and placed the bottle on the table between them. ‘Help yourself if you want more.’
He flopped down in his armchair and heaved a sigh. ‘How did you find me?’
‘It’s been a wild goose chase but a few clues led us this way.’
James went on to outline the whole series of events to date – the attack on John Carlton, the murder of Cynthia Carlton, the discovery of the white feathers and poison pen letters. Juliet added little bits of information here and there; the constant mention of the convalescent home, the suspicions that Cynthia Carlton had about her husband. James highlighted the diary entries that had been found and the discussions he’d had with the Pals during the dinner and dances. Finally, they detailed their visit to the regimental museum and the commendation that appeared to have been falsified, along with their discovery that William Carlton had acquired the nickname ‘Custard’.
James cradled the whisky in his hand. ‘I realise that Major Carlton is a friend and comrade but there are too many things here to discount. I believe that his past has caught up with him. He’s being targeted for something he did in 1917.’
Niven Short studied the amber spirit as he swirled it in his glass. Juliet sat upright and took on the expression of a pompous headmistress. ‘Major Short, covering for your friend is commendable but not wise. His son is mourning the loss of his mother and having to arrange her funeral without him. He’s discovered the truth about his father and is trying to come to terms with this. Your friend is continuing his cowardly behaviour by running away from his responsibilities even now. I wonder if the man ever had a backbone.’
Short swallowed hard and poured himself another whisky. A few seconds ticked by before he spoke. ‘You’re right. This charade has gone on long enough. In a way I’m glad that it’s coming out. I owe it to the men who lost their lives.’
‘Tch,’ said Juliet. ‘It’s too late for t
hem. You should have thought of that at the time. You’re just as guilty as he is.’
James reached across and patted Juliet’s hand. He didn’t want Major Short to put up his defences and he didn’t know the Major well enough to start wading in with opinions. Juliet took her cue and sat back.
Short sighed. ‘It’s probably best that I start at the beginning.’
‘We’re all ears,’ said James.
‘He went to my school. I was a junior master back then, fresh from university. When William enrolled, I looked out for him. He reminded me of my own younger brother, who died when he was only ten. William was a sickly child, not terribly sporting and not that academic, if truth be told. He was an average student, never really got into any trouble. Steered clear of it. But boarding schools are renowned for bullying and Will got his fair share of it. Nothing serious but it made Will into what he was – a man lacking confidence. His father was the complete opposite: a strict tyrant who expected Will to be a man’s man, leading from the front.’
He smoothed his hair back.
‘The war came and because our pupils were privately educated there was some stuff and nonsense that they would make good officers. Well, by that time, I’d joined up. I’m from a military family so it was a natural step for me. I did my time at the military academy and was promoted several times.’ He put his shoulders back. ‘I was a damn good soldier.’
‘So, William Carlton was trained as an officer, even though he was young and had no experience of life?’
‘Compared to the men he was to lead, no. Officers were being shot down like tin cans on a shooting range. He wasn’t cut out to be a soldier – not a field soldier, but his father insisted he fight the good fight and make him and the family proud.’
‘And he was put in charge of this special mission.’
‘That’s right. Take out an enemy post that would gain us a few hundred yards. It was all pretty hush hush but the hierarchy thought it would prove to be a turning point where that particular area was concerned. William was ordered to select four men and take the unit out.’
Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery Page 18