A Wartime Friend

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A Wartime Friend Page 28

by Lizzie Lane


  The pregnant pause was monumental.

  ‘Did you hear that Buckingham Palace was bombed again? I mean, how dreadful that even the king and queen’s home should be bombed. London isn’t even safe for them. I don’t blame anyone evacuating their children and moving to somewhere safer.’

  Meg took it that her mother’s urging for her to return to London was at an end thanks to the prospect of looking after a baby.

  ‘So what will you do with the changeling?’

  ‘You mean Lily?’

  ‘Yes. I really do understand why you took her in, but surely you’ll need to make room now you’re expecting your own child. I suppose you can return her to the authorities? Unless a relative turns up out of the blue.’

  Meg turned cold. ‘Mother, I have to go now.’

  ‘Thank you for sharing your good news. And think carefully about the German child. Children get very jealous about new arrivals.’

  Once she’d severed the connection, Meg went to the back door. The autumn afternoon was drifting into twilight. Orange tones were being replaced by grey and green tints, and the breeze had turned slightly colder. John was helping Lily collect autumn windfalls from beneath the bare-branched apple tree. Wormy ones and those wasps had eaten into were tossed on to the compost heap for digging into the vegetables. Those destined for a pie or crumble were being pushed into the gaping mouth of a hessian sack laid purposefully in the damp green grass.

  ‘You two look busy,’ said Meg after swiftly pasting on a smile.

  The grown man got to his feet. Lily looked up only after she’d thoroughly examined what looked from a distance like an unblemished apple before throwing it on to the compost heap.

  ‘So how’s your mother?’ asked John, at the same time passing another apple to his young accomplice.

  ‘Same as always.’

  Deciding he wasn’t going to hear anything more about her conversation, he asked if she was still going to the village dance. ‘I’d like to escort you there if you’re willing. If you want me to, that is.’

  She fancied he was on a knife-edge and couldn’t refuse him, but first she thought it only fair that he should know her condition. ‘I am still going and would love it if you went with me.’

  John beamed from ear to ear and she fancied his ears turned pink with pleasure.

  ‘There’s just one thing I think you should know. You too, Lily. I’m expecting a baby.’

  John’s jaw dropped and Lily dropped an apple.

  ‘I won’t mind if you want to change your mind about taking me to the dance.’ Her thoughts turned to what her mother had insinuated. She had to get that straight with him. ‘It is Ray’s baby,’ she proclaimed with a toss of her head, her blue eyes sparkling with intensity. ‘I know that for sure.’

  Lost for words, John’s arms dropped to his side. Both the look in his eyes and the tone of his words were infinitely tender. ‘I wish he were still here for you, Meg. I’m sure he’d be very pleased.’

  Without any warning, Lily flung her arms around Meg’s waist.

  ‘Whoa there.’ Meg gathered Lily in, stroking her foster daughter’s silky hair. Over Lily’s head she exchanged a look of understanding with John. He shook his head. No. Lily had not said anything else about her father or the life she’d endured before Ray had found her in a French field.

  ‘Come on, Lily,’ Meg said gently. ‘Time to go home. Now who’s going to tell Rudy about the baby? You or me?’

  Lily tilted her head back and looked up at her with big frightened eyes. ‘Will you still want me when the baby comes? Will I still be your little girl?’

  Meg felt a tightening in her throat. She held back a sob. ‘I’ll always want you, darling, and you’ll always be my little girl. For ever and always.’

  ‘Meg, I’m happy for you,’ said John.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Now how about the dog? Didn’t you say Mr Amble is due back tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and I’ve found somewhere to hide him. We’ll take him there for an hour tonight, just so he can get used to it. Lily will help me hide him from the nasty man, won’t you, Lily?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bert Dando had not been sure whether Meg Malin and the dog would pay another visit or not. Something was happening and he’d heard her telling the dog to be a good boy because he had to be hidden but only for a very short time. Hopefully she would be back, though he couldn’t be 100 per cent sure.

  It was getting dark when he heard the squeaking of the front gate and footsteps hurrying around the side of the cottage. He’d prepared the meat early, soaking it in the rat poison his mother had kept under the sink. ‘Enough to down an army,’ he gloated as he placed the meat on a tin dish.

  After washing his hands, he’d crept quietly downstairs, through the kitchen and into the back porch. Luckily no neighbours overlooked the back garden. There was nobody to notice that someone was residing in the late Mrs Dando’s cottage. Heaps of fallen leaves had blown into the back porch. He had been wondering how to screen the dish of poisoned meat from Meg. Slipping the dish into the leaves would do just that. The dog would sniff it out anyway.

  Creeping into the back bedroom, he squinted out from the side of the blackout curtain and made out three shapes: an adult, a child and a dog. He heard the little girl tell the dog to be a good boy. They’d be around to see him tomorrow once the nasty man had gone. Nasty man? He smiled to himself. Not as nasty as me.

  Unaware they were being watched, Lily gave Rudy a big hug before she followed Meg back along the side of the cottage and out of the gate, though only after they’d filled his water dish from the rain butt and lay his rug out on top of a pile of leaves. They also left him a large marrowbone given to Meg by the butcher.

  Rudy sniffed the air. He couldn’t understand why he was being left here but his new people were good people and he loved them. He’d whined and looked up at them meaningfully before they’d left but couldn’t make them understand that this place was a bad place inhabited by a bad man. All he could do was prevent the bad man from getting out of the house. Perhaps that was why he had been left here. He was on guard duty all over again, though this time he was not being ordered to guard or attack the weak. The man in this house was just the same as the guards who’d goaded their dogs to attack men, women and children. He was cruel and a bully. Rudy, his heart full of love for his new family, would do his duty.

  Ignoring the delicious bone, he laid his head on his paws, heaved a big sigh and nosed the piles of leaves. The leaves fell away, exposing the piece of corned beef. Rudy sniffed at it. The smell was enticing and it would take no effort to eat, unlike the marrowbone which had little meat left on it. He sniffed it cautiously, detecting something in the smell that was different to the piece he’d eaten the day before.

  Just as he was about to shove his nose into it more closely, the broad wings of a barn owl swooped low over the garden. Rudy lifted his head, his ears tuning in to the sounds of the night: the crying of foxes, the hooting of the owl perched close by, the barking of badgers ambling from their sett. He again turned to devour the piece of corned beef, but the scream of a rabbit caught his attention.

  Despite being told to stay put, his natural instincts made him restless. Like his cousins, the wolf and the fox, he had a taste for fresh meat and the sounds of the night – wild sounds – sent his blood racing. The corned beef couldn’t possibly be enough. The call of the wild things, the smell of peaty earth and the lure of dark shadows were just too strong.

  Lily woke up in the middle of the night. In her dreams she’d heard a baby crying, but when she awoke all she could hear was the friendly hooting of a barn owl. Everything was darkness and, as she lay there, fragments of the dream came back. People crowded around her, though a mound of them lay on the floor. A woman lay on top of the mound, her neck stretching as she screamed. An older woman and a man tried their best to console her. Eventually the screaming stopped but the hushed silence that followed was far wo
rse. The silence was all-encompassing.

  On waking she felt all over the bed for Rudy. It was Rudy who had broken that terrible silence, the one when she was surrounded by red and black, blood and the stench of death. Rudy! Mr Amble wanted to take him away. She wouldn’t let him do that.

  Her thoughts were jumbled. She vaguely recalled Aunt Meg telling her that nobody would guess he was hidden in Homeside Cottage. They could search here both inside and out but they wouldn’t find him. The bed usually sagged beneath his weight, but tonight it was completely level, the spot he usually occupied coldly empty. What if he was frightened being hidden away? It just wouldn’t be fair. There and then, she made up her mind to go to him. He had been there for her, now she had to be there for him.

  Quietly, so as not to disturb Aunt Meg, she got out of bed, dressed and went downstairs, being careful to step over the stair halfway down that had a determined squeak. Her boots were on the floor and her coat was hanging on a peg above them. Once she was ready, she let herself out of the front door, closing it softly behind her.

  A full moon silvered the frosty night and her breath misted like silver silk in the chill air as she rushed along to Mrs Dando’s cottage. At one point she saw Mr Puller coming along, shining his torch at windows in case somebody had left a light on. Nobody had of course. They wouldn’t dare, besides which, at this time of night everybody was in bed and there hadn’t been an air raid on the nearby base for some time. Lily hid behind a hedge until he was gone. Once he’d passed by, she carried on with her mission, keeping low and running silently just as she had in France where she and Rudy had first teamed up.

  France! It had popped into her head so easily. She remembered being with him, scavenging as they’d headed west. West! Her father had told her to keep heading west! Remembering her father brought her to a sharp standstill. Her father, Professor Rudolph Westerman. And her name was Leah Westerman!

  Memories flooded into her mind and she experienced a tightness in her chest. Her legs felt like jelly, as though the memories that now filled her were too heavy to carry.

  ‘Rudy!’

  There was no time to confront the painful memories. Her parents were far away and it had been quite a few months since they’d stressed the need for her to escape. The only link between them was the dog that had saved her. And now she must save him. She had to get to Rudy.

  When she got to the cottage gate, she was careful not to let it squeak, just in case Reg Puller was coming back her way and heard it. Slipping through, she headed around the back to the porch, her path lit by moonlight.

  ‘Rudy,’ she whispered as she turned into the back garden of the cottage. The moon had lit up the front of the cottage, picking out its lumpy outline and making its small windows glitter. But the back of the house threw a heavy shadow over the garden. Lily called Rudy’s name again. There was no response. He didn’t run to meet her as she’d expected. All was silent.

  Her heart began to beat faster. Where was he? Something seemed to stir above her. For a moment she thought she heard a window creak open. Betty Wickes, who was in her class at school, had said the old place was haunted. Lily shivered and her misty breath trembled with her as her teeth began to chatter.

  ‘Rudy?’ Her voice quivered. She couldn’t see him. It was so black here.

  Bert Dando was dead to the world having finished off half a gallon of scrumpy so he failed to hear what was happening outside. In his dreams he was standing with skinning knife in hand, the dog lying dead at his feet. In his dream he saw the villagers screaming in horror at what he’d done. The best part of his dream was seeing a submissive Meg Malin, too afraid to run from him, willing to do anything he asked of her.

  PC John Carter couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, thinking about the various events that had happened in the village; first the trampling of the flowers, then the burglaries. Was he right in thinking that it was down to more than one person or were the events connected? The burglaries certainly were. The perpetrator had left behind the unmistakeable smell of mothballs.

  There had been no hint of the smell in the trampled gardens, but these had not been confined spaces so it would not have been noticeable. Although it wasn’t his habit to patrol the village at night unless there was some poaching or sheep-rustling going on, tonight he felt he needed to. Kicking back the bedclothes, he hesitated between wearing a civilian sweater and dark trousers or his uniform. Deciding it best to patrol in his official capacity, he opted for his uniform but in the dark he failed to notice he’d done the buttons up wrong.

  The night was crisp and had a shiny cleanliness about it thanks to the full moon. Settling his chinstrap into a comfortable position, he stalked off listening to the night sounds, his hands clasped behind his back. A duck quacked in the village pond, an owl hooted in the distance and a bat barely skimmed his head on its way to the church tower. The scream of a small creature, possibly a rabbit, was followed by the cry of a vixen calling to her mate. Of late there were a lot of foxes in the woods and copses bordering the village. Little was seen of them during the day, their preference being to come out late at night to hunt rabbits and small animals, raid hen coups and scavenge for any bits of food left out.

  It was purely on a whim that he pushed open the gate of Homeside Cottage. He checked it twice a week, though purely during daylight hours. Tonight he’d make an exception. Moonlight played on the windows, which looked out on the village like empty eyes. He gave the door a push. It remained steadfastly locked. The windows were unbroken and tightly shut. Wouldn’t hurt to take a look around the back, he decided. The back of the house was in darkness so he didn’t see anyone hurtling towards him until they collided.

  ‘Hey! Steady on.’ He found himself holding a small arm, a child’s arm. He turned on his torch and saw it was Lily Malin. ‘Lily! What are you doing out at this time of night?’

  He shone his torch into the child’s pale face. Her stunningly blue eyes were bright with tears.

  ‘I can’t find Rudy. We hid him here and now he’s not here.’ She sounded close to hysterics.

  Carter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Her mother had hidden the dog here. He’d thought she would have hidden him in the garden shed or somewhere more adjacent. It seemed an odd choice until he recalled the dog had spent some time here with Mrs Dando, and that he still showed an interest in the old place each time he passed it.

  ‘Can you help me find him? Please?’

  Bending his knees until he was level with her face, he smiled. ‘First we’ll get you home to bed. I’m a policeman. It’s my job to find missing dogs.’

  ‘I want to stay and find him.’

  Carter sighed. ‘Have you considered how worried your Aunt Meg is going to be when she wakes up and finds you gone? Have you thought about that?’

  Lily shook her head.

  ‘Right. Then let’s get you home and leave the dog finding to me. Come on.’

  Carter paused before taking hold of Lily’s hand. The night air was fresh enough but he detected something other than damp grass and cow dung from the next field. Just to confirm his suspicion, he breathed in a good lungful of night air. Outside the lean-to the air was crisp and fresh. Inside he smelled the unmistakeable stink of mothballs.

  He flashed the torch beam over the back door. It looked as though it were tightly closed. Laying his palm on the scratched paintwork, he gave it a push. It was barely discernible but he sensed a narrow gap appeared between the plank door and the jamb. He put his nose to the gap and smelled food. Something or somebody was in there and he thought he knew who it might be.

  It was hard not to stare when Meg answered the door to his urgent knocking wearing a blue dressing gown, her hair smothered in moonlight and trailing round her shoulders. At first there was warmth and then outright surprise on seeing Lily rubbing her eyes and yawning.

  ‘Lily! What’s going on?’

  ‘I found her round at Mrs Dando’s old cottage in a bit of a state because Rudy wasn’t there
.’

  Meg caught hold of Lily’s shoulders and brought her face down to her level. ‘Whatever were you doing round there?’

  ‘I thought he’d be lonely all by himself. But when I got there, he wasn’t there. Where is he, Aunt Meg? Where’s he gone?’

  Meg shook her head, which sent her hair falling forward around her face. ‘I don’t know, darling. But one thing I do know is that you are not going out looking for him. Off to bed with you. It’s a school day tomorrow.’

  ‘Now don’t you worry about that dog,’ said John, addressing the little girl directly. ‘I think I know where he might be. I’ll get him settled and be round in the morning to tell you so. Will that be all right?’

  Meg pointed towards the staircase. ‘Bed for you, young lady.’ The little girl stopped in her tracks and, although her eyes were red-rimmed, gave Meg an odd look as though she were seeing a stranger before her, not the woman who had looked after her for some months.

  Rain that was not much more than mist had begun to fall, making John reluctant to leave the cosy interior of the cottage and the lovely woman who lived there. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Yes.’ As she nodded, she pulled on the tied belt around her waist as though it would somehow form a barrier between her, the expectant mother, and him, the man who couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  ‘Suppose I’d better get on,’ he murmured, trying his best to maintain an air of friendly aloofness.

  ‘Not like that,’ Meg said, suddenly reaching for the buttons of his tunic. Momentarily startled, John didn’t at first grasp what she was doing. ‘You must have been in a rush,’ she said, smiling as she adjusted his tunic buttons.

  ‘Right,’ he said, a pale pink flush colouring his cheeks. ‘A chap has to be well turned out.’

  ‘Yes. You’re an important man in the village. It’s only right you make a good impression.’

 

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