Once the landlady had set to work we searched the room. There wasn’t much to find.
Demelza pulled out a drawer. ‘The rest of her book,’ she called out. ‘What do we do with it?’
‘In the bin … no.’ I realised that anyone finding it would be reading about their future. That might not be a good idea. ‘Stick it in her bag and we’ll burn it later.’
We ended up with a small bag of her possessions. Odd that I didn’t find the iron bar she had used to hit her crystal at the Hanging Stones.
In the end Miss Tregarthur still looked sick but at least cleaner.
‘Get her downstairs,’ the landlady ordered. ‘Keep the towel around her in case she’s sick again.’
So, with a small amount of help from Demelza, I lifted and dragged Miss Tregarthur down the narrow stairs and dumped her on a chair in the hall with towels all around her.
Then Jenna appeared carrying a small metal box. ‘Got it,’ she said.
‘Did you look at it?’ I wanted to know if the radiation might have made any difference to the crystal.
‘Not really, have to check it later,’ Jenna said, but giving me a slight wary glance. ‘I found a padlock and key with it.’ She pointed at a small lock holding a clasp on the box. Not something that wouldn’t break easily but I suppose it would stop anyone taking a quick look, the anyone being Demelza.
I tapped the box. ‘Is it lead?’ It was the size of something you’d use to keep biscuits in, heavier but not thick metal.
‘I hope so.’ Jenna turned to the landlady. ‘How do we get a cab – I mean carriage?’
The woman might be an English landlady but she was well organised in this country. She went to the front door and whistled, expertly, with two fingers in her mouth. A high pitched whistle. We didn’t have to wait long before a young boy, dressed for street life rather than anything else, turned up and our landlady gave out a string of French before the lad took off again.
‘What did you tell him?’ I was still suspicious.
‘To get a carriage to take you wherever you need to go.’ I caught the catch in the woman’s voice. This was moving into the sort of things I knew about from my home. She wanted us gone and she didn’t want to see us again. Might just be that the carriage took us somewhere we didn’t want to go. Somewhere we couldn’t ever come back from.
‘Where in England are you from?’ I asked and she just flicked her head, not prepared to give me an answer.
Ok, I had picked up tips, the bad sort, from my dad but this trip had given me more confidence to use them. I also can whistle, so I went out onto the road and whistled. Another boy soon turned up.
The landlady moved away with her eyes blazing. Was she done? I worried that she might try something else.
I turned to Demelza. ‘Any idea of the word for carriage?’
‘Don’t think it’s voiture ’cos that’s a car.’ Demelza scratched her head. ‘It might be something like chariot – try chariot.’
We did try. We probably didn’t make any sense. Jenna tried to explain to the boy by waving her arms like a horse driver. The boy nodded and ran off.
‘Stay out on the street,’ I said to Jenna and Demelza. ‘Any trouble and you run for it.’
‘And you?’ Jenna smiled.
‘I’ll be the one causing the trouble.’ I tried to sound brave but it was just pretence.
The landlady returned and she wasn’t alone, two men stood behind her. ‘Where are the girls?’
‘Back off,’ I said. ‘The girls will run for it if they have to and you’ll be left with her.’ I pointed at Miss Tregarthur who was slipping slowly from her chair, not seeming to notice. ‘You’ll be left with her and the mess.’ I turned back. ‘And there might be people in England who would be interested in an English landlady hiding here in this part of Paris.’
I could feel the sweat trickling down my neck. I made myself think of all the other terrible things that we’d managed to avoid. I would be brave. I’d done it before.
The landlady gave me the sourest of looks before turning to the men and waving them away. Two carriages turned up and their drivers argued.
The argument started to bring other people on to the street. One was the guy selling lampshades. I’d seen him a couple of times. He was different. He certainly behaved differently as he brought out his own whistle and gave several loud blasts. It fell into place. This street seller had probably been watching the landlady. Was he calling the police? If it wasn’t them, it could be someone worse.
I suppose anywhere Miss Tregarthur had contacts was likely to be less than legal. The landlady might want her taken away if she was sick, if she looked like dying, but that might mean something else was going on. The landlady had been quick to find two men to back her up – two men who disappeared when Mr Lampshade started whistling.
The landlady’s pink rollers were starting to come loose as she became more agitated. She started shouting that she was owed money.
‘No way.’ Jenna came inside and we heaved Miss Tregarthur into the second carriage, I gave the boy, the one I’d called, several coins. His eyes widened and he ran off with the other boy chasing after him.
‘Move it,’ I called to our driver. It wasn’t French but he grasped what was needed. We could already hear running feet – people had been called by the lampshade man. I didn’t want to find out who they were.
Behind us the landlady slammed her front door and both carriage drivers took off at speed. They didn’t want to stay around to find out who was coming either. Our man turned into narrow streets away from the main roads. A little later he stopped and shouted something down to us.
‘He must want to know where we are going.’ Jenna scrabbled in her bag and drew out the itinerary for our tour. She got out and pointed at the name of our hotel. He wanted money and he got it, no arguing from us, we wanted to get there. We were off again.
We’d paid for the hotel so I hoped the rooms would still be free. But would we be able to get Miss Tregarthur through the door? She looked unconscious to me, although still giving out the occasional groan and a nasty wheezing noise. Difficult to know how much of her illness could be put on, this was a woman we knew we couldn’t trust.
The carriage journey took all morning as we had to slow in the Paris traffic. We were lucky to arrive at the hotel during the Parisian lunchtime. The hotel appeared deserted, with its doors closed. Miss Tregarthur was a dead weight. At least she hadn’t vomited again. Demelza refused to go near her.
‘Chuck her over your shoulder.’ Jenna climbed down from the carriage. ‘I’ll check to see if there’s anyone around.’ She paid the driver and walked away to the hotel glass doors. ‘Wait until I come back,’ she called and disappeared inside.
I heaved Miss Tregarthur out, staggered to the side of the road with her still moaning and I leant against the wall, waiting.
Jenna came out almost immediately. ‘Seems quiet, come on,’ and I followed her in.
‘Oi! Monsieur, what you do?’ A man popped up from behind the concierge desk.
Oh, we’re just bringing in a murderous sick woman with radiation sickness. Might have been a good answer, but none of us had the words or the nerve to say that in any language.
‘I get Bill,’ the man shouted. ‘You stay. Put her there.’ He pointed to the chairs by the door and went behind a curtain.
We dumped Miss Tregarthur on to one of them, she retched again. I stuffed a towel over her face. ‘Come on Aunty,’ I said, and not in a nice way. This woman had done too much harm for me to care. I still worried whether radiation sickness was catching.
‘Stick to the aunt story,’ Jenna repeated, as we heard someone coming down the stairs.
Repatriation
-18-
Bill the tour guide arrived, a bit dishevelled. This was his rest time, the only time he had when people on the tour were taken away by local guides.
‘Your aunt, you say?’
‘She’s not well,’ I said.
‘Oh, really? I would never have guessed.’ Bill stared at our sick Miss Tregarthur, half sliding from a chair and seeming to be fast asleep or unconscious, blood still showing on the towels we had kept around her. Blood still at the corners of her mouth. ‘What do you want me to do about it?’
‘Did Derek say we might need to get her home?’ I had a mind to say something stupid, like take her up the Eiffel Tower, but Bill wasn’t a person ready for that.
‘He didn’t say she’d be …’ Bill lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘nearly dead.’
Miss Tregarthur decided to let out a moan. Again it made me wonder how ill she really was.
‘Actually,’ Bill remembered something. ‘It won’t be a problem. I know someone who takes visitors to Lourdes.’ He checked to see if I understood. ‘You know the place where the miracles happened. They get thousands of visitors.’
‘Lots of them nearly dead?’ I asked.
I could see Bill was going to say yes, but he checked himself. ‘Many of them are not well. Mr Jackson, a man I know, sorts out their travel. He’s staying at the Majestic. I’ll send him a note and ask him to come here.’
Bill was pleased. Solving problems was his job. He was very pleased to have come up with a solution for Miss Tregarthur. Too much of a coincidence for me.
‘It will cost quite a lot,’ Bill added. ‘Is that a problem?’
That explained the coincidence, a lot of coincidences involved money.
‘No problem,’ Jenna said, stopping me from asking questions about the cost. ‘When can we get away?’
‘I suppose that depends on the cost.’ Bill was already leaning on the desk writing his note. When he finished he gave it to the French concierge who went outside, whistled and another boy took the note and ran off.
‘Oh.’ Bill turned to us again with a look of panic. ‘Can’t leave her here. Can you get her up to one of your rooms?’
‘How?’ I asked.
‘In the lift,’ Bill said something in French to the concierge, there was arguing.
‘Can’t use the lift, it’s after 10,’ Jenna said, with a slight smile.
After we’d paid extra, it meant dragging Miss Tregarthur to the lift. It was operated by ropes and pulleys. I helped to haul the cage up to our floor. I could see why they didn’t want people using the lift, it took ages and a lot of pulling.
‘I’ll send Mr Jackson up to you when he …’ Bill stopped. A strange looking man with an enormous beard came into the hotel lobby. Whatever the mail system might be, this note sending seemed faster than phoning. I supposed that Bill had written something about money.
‘It will cost,’ Mr Jackson’s first words to me as we went up to my room.
‘It will cost, quite a lot,’ he said, after seeing her.
Overall, this would take the rest of the money Derek had given us – money to Mr Jackson, some more to Bill, more to the hotel, the boy outside, pretty much anyone we met was hoping we’d give them something. We still had enough and didn’t need to go to the bank. Made me realise again how much Masterson must have wanted this problem to go away.
Mr Jackson could get us on a train in the morning, then to catch the boat and another train to London. ‘After that you are on your own.’ Then he took my arm, guided me to the doorway and said in a hushed voice, ‘Let me know if she doesn’t survive the night.’
I thought that would be all he had to say, it wasn’t, he went on: ‘Won’t be a problem if she’s dead, still get you there but …’ he stopped.
‘It’ll cost more?’ I said it for him. He nodded and left with a pile of our money.
After he’d left Jenna reminded me that we had to send a letter to Derek telling him we were going to need more help.
‘How do we know what time the train will arrive?’ It still felt so strange to write a letter which should get to Derek before we arrived tomorrow.
Jenna went down to the hotel desk, wrote the note and had it taken off to the post. ‘Hope Derek can work it out,’ she said, after climbing the stairs again, no lift this time. ‘If he doesn’t turn up I suppose we can just leave her on the train.’
‘We could hang a note around her neck with Masterson’s name on it.’ I thought that was quite a good idea even if Derek had other suggestions.
Miss Tregarthur lay on the empty bed in my room.
‘I’m not staying all night with her on my own,’ I told the other two.
Demelza offered to do it. I didn’t know why she offered. Jenna and I listened several times at their door during the night. Demelza snored. Miss Tregarthur moaned. Jenna and I got away with sharing. I suppose the management had given up on us.
‘Did you look at the crystal?’ I asked when we were alone. ‘Any change?’
‘Maybe,’ Jenna said, ‘I didn’t look at properly, there wasn’t time. I found the metal box and chucked the crystal into it quickly,’ Jenna said.
‘Should we check it now?’ I pointed at the box on the floor.
‘Do you want to get killed?’ Jenna murmured. ‘Just go to sleep will you.’
Early in the morning Bill knocked on our two doors and told us to bring her down. The lift was less effort going down. Mr Jackson wasn’t there but he had sent his Lourdes team. Three men lifted Miss Tregarthur into a carriage – a sort of horse drawn ambulance. Riding on top, there was room to take us all.
Bill waved as we left. He was very pleased to see us go. I think his smile meant he had an arrangement with the Jackson man. Medical repatriation obviously could make good money.
We arrived at Waterloo Station the next afternoon. The trip had gone easily, more of Mr Jackson’s team helping to get Miss Tregarthur on and off the boat. No wonder it had been expensive. This time the sea was quite calm so Miss Tregarthur was the only sick one of us.
Waterloo – above me it could have been a railway station in my own time, look down and the place was full of horses and carriages, right on the platform. This next part depended on Derek. Did he get our letter? Did that really work, a one-day letter to Derek and we were expecting him to be at the station?
If he wasn’t here, we would have to abandon her. Miss Tregarthur seemed worse. She had vomited more blood – luckily we’d taken a load of towels and sheets from the hotel. I decided they were included in the cost of this trip. It hadn’t kept her completely clean. If we took her on to the platform, everyone would notice. Leaving her on the train and disappearing could well be the best option.
Jenna climbed out of our compartment. ‘I’ll see if anyone has come for us.’
Just as she did a man walked along the platform shouting, ‘Miss Tregarthur group, Miss Tregarthur group.’ Over and over. He walked right past us.
Jenna had to run after him. ‘Stop, come back.’
The man turned and saw me leaning out of the train door. He turned and shouted. Derek and two more men appeared with a sort of trolley, a flat board and four huge wheels. Fine for Miss Tregarthur, although it looked like the sort of thing you might use to make a market stall. We wouldn’t get much for her if we tried.
‘Are we going to Masterson’s house?’ Jenna asked Derek.
‘SHHH,’ he cried. ‘Don’t use that name. You’re off on the next train. It’s a couple of platforms away.’
That made sense. Masterson didn’t want to see us or have any contact with us. He would help, provided we kept her away from London, took her back to the moor if we could – unless she died. I had no idea what we would do if that happened. Arranging funerals wasn’t one of my skills. Although we’d had several deaths since we had left on that first moorland hike.
We pushed the cart. Derek ran off to a large black carriage which had stopped near the station entrance. The windows were covered with a curtain. Derek lent in saying something, nodded and afterwards he returned to us.
‘You three stay here,’ he ordered before getting the men to wheel Miss Tregarthur towards the carriage. A face appeared, leant out, and then disappeared quickly before the carriage drove off
. It had to have been Masterson making sure we had brought the right person.
I wondered what he would do now. He had been about to leave the country. But wasn’t that just in case Miss Tregarthur returned and exposed him as a spy? Was there any risk now? If he stayed, he still had the copies of Miss Tregarthur’s pages about weapons of war – even the nuclear bomb. We couldn’t do anything about that, we were about to join another train.
Derek had hired another complete compartment for us, like the one we had used from Paris. Again, we laid Miss Tregarthur out on the seats on one side. She gave several weak moans as we lowered her down. Most of the time her eyes were shut. Just once they flicked open. I wasn’t fooled. She was still holding on; I was sure this wasn’t over.
‘Is there a machine for water or coke or something,’ Demelza moaned, before we got in. ‘I’m parched.’
Derek laughed at her. ‘You want water?’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t drink the water here. And you can’t drink coke – just put it on the fire. The journey must have muddled your mind.’
Demelza sniffed at him. A woman did come along the platform pushing a huge metal urn and selling tea. I wasn’t a great tea drinker, even less after trying her thick dark brew without milk and the sugar didn’t help. She had given us real cups and explained that they would be collected at the next station. I thought that was a better idea than dropping paper cups on the floor, modern things weren’t always an improvement.
The cart men disappeared. We took our places on the seat opposite our patient. Derek handed me a letter. ‘Don’t expect we’ll see you again,’ he said, as a warning.
A few minutes later the train left with a great amount of hissing of steam. I read the letter before passing it to Jenna:
“This train will take you to Exeter. Get straight on the next train towards the moor. I have someone watching you, they will help with the transfer. DO NOT stop. DO NOT come back. DO NOT contact me again.”
Tregarthur's Crystal: Book 4 (The Tregarthur's Series) Page 16