'No, of course she's not.' Jane scoffed. 'Are you?' She too turned to Florence.
'No. That would leave the informant vulnerable, exposed.' Florence waved her newly charged cigarette-bearing hand for emphasis and Aggie's hand retreated in relief.
'See.' Jane turned in triumph and relief to the others and smiled a see, I told you smile unaware that Florence had six more words to say.
'I'm saying we kill him ourselves.'
Six Words
Six words can change a life. Just six.
I love you, please marry me.
Britain is at war with Germany.
I'm saying we kill him ourselves.
Just six.
In the last few months a number of events had taken place that changed Jane's view from her vantage point; the loss of a home forcing initially unwelcome independence from her friends, being trapped underneath that home in less than the blink of an eye giving her sight in the ensuing darkness of how fragile life could be, a chance meeting with Will showing her that life and love continued, and indeed thrived, during times of shadow and fear.
All of these events either proved a theory or added a personal experience to things which Jane already knew. She could be strong and independent; no-one was immortal; love didn't stop because the world became aggressive.
But one conversation, indeed one sentence from one friend in one conversation, had so shocked Jane and the two others present that they couldn't speak coherently. After the first flurry of dismissal, when the trio realised that their friend's words held no jest or pun, there was nothing to be said. Nothing had ever shocked Jane so completely. Shock wasn't even a big enough a word to describe how she felt. She didn't know her friend at all. She was a stranger. A stranger who had just suggested murder, as casually as you might suggest a trip to the countryside.
In horror and astonishment the girls soon found reasons to part company. Only Florence seemed unchanged; Jane, Aggie and Dorothy felt tainted as they hurried on their way to different destinations.
As Jane lay in bed that night staring blindly into the darkness unable to close her eyes, she couldn't help but torment herself with thoughts of Florence's words. She couldn't bring herself to use the term suggestion, even in her head, as that gave credence to the six shocking words. The disgust she felt at the thought of what Florence had said sloshed around like sticky, dirty mud.
Her mind spoke to her heart.
Doing such a thing would make you no better than those trying to harm Hugh.
The sloshing turned to swishing and the mud diluted as her heart replied.
But the risk is Hugh's chosen course, not Will's.
Muddy waters that had turned clear became cloudy again.
Jane shook her head, but the thoughts remained, arguing with each other. Right and wrong. Good and evil. Life and death. She closed her eyes and placed the cold pads of her fingertips on her eyelids, pressing gently to dispel the polluted images behind them and evict all evil thoughts.
Maybe passion was heightened during war. Actions and decisions that would otherwise not be taken were forced. A sense of urgency, of live for the moment, of what the hell, had taken over. People were more outspoken, stronger. They married quickly, grabbed opportunities, made the most of every day. But did they suggest cold blooded murder?
No. They didn't. There was no excuse.
Florence's words weren't a magnified response of what she might have said a year ago, to be dismissed as a live for the day reaction; they were bomb-dropping change everything shocking.
Jane sat on her bed, almost ready to go. She slipped on her shoes and checked the contents of her bag. Her coat lay on the bed next to her, ready to be shrugged on as soon as she heard the doorbell. Twenty past six. Will was always on time; in fact he was usually at least five minutes early, so she knew she'd hear the door at any moment. But even six thirty brought no bell or knock. A quarter to seven gave no sound, or seven, or ten past. Jane told herself she'd wait for quarter past and didn't take her eyes from her watch. That was enough. The moment the delicate black hand finally moved to the three she stood, picked up her coat and bag and was gone.
At the end of the street she hesitated. She looked up and down, scanning faces. The face she searched for, the one that had the power to trigger a warm shiver in her chest, wasn't among them. She knew something was terribly wrong.
It wasn't lost on Jane that Hugh had been due back that day. His return meant that those looking for him might also be back.
Jane knew Will was riding the sloper to meet her, and she knew which roads he'd choose. It would take her longer than the bus, but walking would ensure she missed nothing and could take an accurate route. At her own pace she could stop where she wanted. Of course, this assumed that Will was already en route. If he hadn't yet left home, she wouldn't be with him very fast. But, she reasoned, if he'd been delayed before leaving the flat he would have telephoned to explain. There was a telephone in the hall just outside; he would surely have called. No, he must be on his way. Although Jane was perfectly aware of the scenarios that haunted the outskirts of her mind she was just about able to keep them at bay, not letting them stay behind her eyes long enough for her brain to register the images.
Jane's feet fell faster than usual, her arms swinging purposefully at her sides. Every turning to every street and alley reneged on their promise to show her Will. Still she strode on, determined. She felt a little cross, like a mother searching for a naughty child who has outstayed a curfew or misbehaved. Jane was getting angry as she walked; Will had been stupid but, unlike a child, he should have known better.
The further Jane walked, the faster her gait until she was almost running. Run, look, run, look. A few people glanced at her as she hurried past but Jane didn't see them. She was almost at Will's flat and still no sign. Her mind swayed between concern and anger as she reached the building where Will lived. It had once been a large Victorian family home, converted into flats some years before as so many beautiful buildings had been. She leapt up the front steps to open the door and step into the porch. She opened an inner door and walked through to the large entrance hall. On the right was the door to the flat that Will shared with a young actor/writer friend. She knocked impatiently at the door, not waiting for a response before trying the handle. Surprised to find the door unlocked, she opened it and peered in.
'Hello? Will?' She could hear movement in the flat, before she heard the voice.
'Jane? Hang on…wait there a minute.' Each word Will uttered seemed forced, like it was hard work. Jane had heard enough to know that something was wrong and stormed forward, looking for Will. She found him struggling to stand, half crouching by the door to the small kitchen. He knew without turning to look at her that Jane was approaching, despite his request. 'I told you to wait.' He was reluctant to turn towards her as she stooped and put her arm around him to help him stand. He pushed her arm away. 'I'm fine, please just go Jane. It's not safe here.'
'Will please, let me help you.' Jane ignored his plea and tried once more to assist. This time Will let her and they shuffled into the bedroom. Will sat on the edge of the bed, still bent over, head down and turned from Jane. She knelt before him, wanting to see but dreading the sight of the face he tried to hide.
Finally Will sighed and turned his face to hers.
'Oh God, Will,' she said, and her hand covered her mouth, drawn to her face with an intake of breath. She touched Will and he flinched as he changed position to ease a pain that Jane couldn't see. Her calm kicked in. 'Right, lie down while I get you tidied up. Then we're getting you to the hospital.' Will's hand grabbed at Jane's as she started to unbutton his blood stained shirt. He looked as though he was about to speak, then said nothing. She gently eased the shirt down his back and pulled the sleeves from his arms as carefully as she could. She took off his shoes and helped him swing his legs onto the bed and lie down.
This done, Jane searched the bathroom and kitchen and returned with a bowl of warm water,
towel, face cloth and a bottle of antiseptic. 'Right then, let's sort this mess out.'
Despite her efficient and brisk tone, Jane's nursing was gentle; she winced inside each time she touched the cloth to Will's many bloody marks and bruises. She could only imagine what sort of beating he'd taken; his face and chest bore multiple red marks, some already turning a dark shade of grey. Blood seemed to be everywhere. She'd closed her eyes momentarily as she helped him remove his shirt, as if the marks might be gone when she opened them. His ribcage had clearly been pummelled and there were strong marks round his arms, as though they'd been held tight, restrained from fighting back. Jane tried not to think of it as she worked to soothe the pains with tender strokes of warm water.
Will's mischievous spark wasn't misplaced for long and he smiled. 'The things I have to do to get you to undress me.' Jane gave him a disapproving glare; she didn't need to tell him that it wasn't the innuendo that bothered her but his making light of the beating he'd received.
When Jane stood and picked up the bowl of bloody water, Will took her hand and spoke again; he spoke softly but made his decision clear. 'No hospital,' he said. Jane looked at him for a moment before heading to the kitchen without comment. She returned with a tray bearing a large glass of water, some aspirin and a cup of tea.
'These pills will barely touch it, but it's better than nothing if you're not going to the hospital.' She handed Will the water and tablets which he took half lying down as he leant on one elbow, clearly doing so through some pain. 'I bet you've broken some ribs; heaven only knows what else is damaged inside. And your nose looks broken.'
'It feels broken,' he smiled, the expression looking wrong on his beaten face. 'I'll live.'
'Not if they have anything to do with it.' Jane wasn't going to be soft about his stupidity just because he was in pain. She looked at Will expecting further dispute, but he was serious.
'I know.' His lack of denial surprised Jane and she softened.
'So will you tell me what happened?'
Will sat back against the pillow awkwardly and sighed. 'I was getting on the sloper when they came up behind me. No-one was about and they walked me off down some alley. I couldn't do much against three of them; two of them held me down. I really thought that was it Jane. Then I woke up behind some bins with the most God awful headache and every part of my body screaming except my voice. I don't know why they left me. I'm guessing they were disturbed by someone or something and made the mistake of having a bit of fun first, rather than just doing the job. Maybe they were in the mood to give someone a pasting and thought they'd do that first, I don't know. They could have done a lot worse in the time they had.' He shifted his position slowly. 'I know I won't be lucky a third time.' Will took Jane's hand. 'I stumbled and limped back in here and passed out.' Jane tried not to put pictures to Will's tale. 'It just turned real Jane. I can't have you anywhere near me when they come again.'
'Well, I'm not going anywhere on my own.'
The two of them looked at each other as though their thoughts could pass between them wordlessly. 'Alright, we'll leave.'
First Flight
Mrs Cartlyn's house was easy to find; her directions were perfect, as was everything else she'd arranged. She'd procured a car for their use as long as they should want it, saying it was more comfortable for the long journey and more practical for the transportation of baggage. Mrs Cartlyn didn't say that the car was more discreet, that the car was safer. Will had argued against taking it, although he had smiled affectionately when he'd first seen the little Austin 7 Ruby with its smart maroon body and black wings. He'd said they wouldn't be staying away for long and they'd be taking minimal luggage, so thank you but no. Mrs Cartlyn firmly assured them both that the car was wiser as they should take all they needed to ensure there was no call for a return to the city in the near future. The matter was settled. They couldn't argue with her, knowing somehow that any dissent was futile.
When the travellers arrived after two hours of journeying with their thoughts, they were both a little surprised. They didn't need to say anything as the expression they each displayed was a mirror of the other. The address of Richmond Row had unwittingly given the impression of a row of houses, terraced together and an integral part of the town in which its address fell. Instead they had skirted round the edge of habitation, following their host's instructions down road and lane and away from the town itself. Ten minutes after sight of the town disappeared behind them, they slowed down to read a sign announcing Richmond Row, after which they turned left through a gate and continued up a short curved driveway to park in front of the house. Jane thought it looked very much like an old vicarage and wouldn't be out of place as the address of the local reverend or doctor. A large family home but respectable and unpretentious, it seemed a shame that it wasn't inhabited by a big family with lively children dashing round the garden but was instead used as infrequently as Mrs Cartlyn had suggested.
The couple stepped inside the front door. All was quiet. To the left and right were closed doors; the staircase rose in front and the hallway ran away from them towards the back of the house. Jane looked at Will then tentatively opened the door on the right to peer in. A large informal dining room; Will opened the door to the left, 'Sitting room,' he said. They walked together down the hall to find a bright and welcoming kitchen; the larder had been stocked as well as it could and fresh greenery placed in a vase on the table. Jane looked out of the window to the back garden then turned to Will.
'I'll put the kettle on shall I?'
Will nodded, 'I'll take the bags upstairs while you do that.'
'Let me do it Will, you shouldn't be lifting.' Will raised his eyebrows, ignoring her offer, and turned to walk towards the front door and the bags they'd left there. Jane didn't bother to argue and instead hunted down cups and saucers, tea and milk and soon heard Will upstairs; he was back at her side just as the kettle started to boil.
'Nice house,' Will said, looking around him.
'It is.'
They were at a loss as to what to talk about. Will pulled a chair out, wincing Jane noticed, then sat down and immediately stood back up to lift the kettle from the stove and fill the teapot. Rather than sit down again, clearly finding it more comfortable to stand, he walked to the back door and looked out for a moment then he slowly crossed the room again. He located a spoon then lifted the lid of the teapot and stirred the tea round and round.
'So here we are. Safe and sound.' He looked uncomfortable as he replaced the lid, picked up the pot and turned back to the table. 'Shall I pour?'
'Yes please.' Jane still didn't know what to say in conversation. She'd wanted them to come to the safety of this house but now didn't know what to do next. Their situation was a complicated subject to broach, so Jane steered clear. 'You're still in lots of pain aren't you?'
'Nah,' he said, 'Just stiff from the drive, that's all. All healing nicely don't you worry.' He still looked awful, although his cuts and bruises didn't detract from his smile and cheeky boyish face. 'I really need to give Maggie and Jack a call to see how things are. There's a telephone in the hall.' Jane was thankful that the family wouldn't be able to see Will until he looked better.
'Don't tell them where you are.' Will gave Jane a do you think I'm stupid look.
'They wouldn't tell anyone.'
'I know, but then you'd have to explain why it was a secret. You don't want them to have any more on their plate.'
'I know, I know, of course I won't say anything.' Will sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 'You know why I was trying to earn more cash, and now I've made everything even worse. Now there's no money at all while I'm not working.' Jane stood and walked over to Will who wrapped his bruised arms around her. 'I've put you in danger, I've stopped working, I've deserted Maggie and Jack and the kids.' Before he could carry on Jane shushed him softly.
'When it's all over and sorted out, we'll put it all right with them don't worry. Maybe we can go and stay for a day or two w
hen we get back home. In the meantime, we've scrabbled together enough cash to survive so don't worry.'
'So you're paying for my mistake in more ways than one.' He looked low for a moment, then the real Will stepped in and he perked up. 'I'm going to ask around the town for some casual work. We shouldn't be here long, so Maggie and Jack might not even notice we've gone, but I'll try and pick up some work while we're here.' Jane smiled back, although she wasn't quite as confident that their stay would be short. 'We'll use this as a little holiday. We can be,' he put on an upper class accent, 'Mr and Mrs William H.C. Batten, resting at their country home after the former's jolly unfortunate accident aboard his yacht.' Will's narration turned to character acting as his voice became Cary Grant's. 'Damn it all, darling, those ropes should never have been left like that!' Jane shook her head, affectionately exasperated, but at least the old Will was back.
Mrs Grey had ensured the house was ready for its two guests, filling the kitchen pantry, stocking up logs next to each fireplace, putting fresh towels in the bathroom and clean sheets on the bed in the best bedroom. Jane hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom when she finally went upstairs to unpack her few things. By the time Will came up to look for her, Jane had located more sheets and blankets, made up a second bedroom and emptied her small case in that room.
Jane could hear Will on the landing, then he appeared at the door to the second bedroom where she was looking at the view of the drive and front garden from the window. She turned on hearing him.
'Ok, two rooms is fine. But you have the bigger one,' he said.
'No, this suits me fine honestly. It's pretty in here; I like it.'
'Ok,' he shrugged 'but I can't promise I won't sneak in and ravage you in the night.'
The next few days passed surprisingly quickly. The town was less than half an hour's walk away and the countryside surrounding them picturesque. They could almost forget the war that still carried on and the reason that they were staying at Richmond Row, playing at all the normal routines of life and pretending there was nothing more.
Sunshine Spirit Page 10