The man she loved? Maybe a better description was the man she would kill for.
Jane closed her eyes and lay back in the warm bath. She had cleared away in the kitchen despite Will's promise. Then she'd wandered aimlessly around the house before deciding to have a soak in the bath while she waited for the men to return.
Someone needs to kill the real Hugh Callaghan.
Florence's words shouted out in Jane's head and her eyes opened, startled.
She sat up, shocked that she should find herself reliving that conversation. She wondered if her subconscious mind was trying to communicate how serious this had all become. If she let Will do this thing for Hugh, which she just knew he would attempt to, a life she needed to preserve, one as important as her own, could end. Hugh was a good man, she didn't doubt that, but his duty to his country was what forced his hand. If Will's death was an unfortunate side effect, Hugh would of course feel sadness at the outcome but no regret for the action which caused it. And surely, if the whole purpose was to trick people into thinking Hugh was somewhere he wasn't, then for him to be dead in everyone's eyes would be the ultimate deception and one that would last as long as Hugh did.
Jane practically leapt from the bath.
She wrenched the stopper from the plughole and was in her room dressing quicker than she ever had in her life; her clothes felt uncomfortable against damp skin and pulling on her last good pair of stockings over wet calves was a job in itself, proven impossible when she saw the ladder running up from her fingernails. She cursed as she ripped them off, threw them on the bed and hurried downstairs bare legged and barefoot. She didn't know how long the men would be gone; she hadn't heard them return but quickly checked the downstairs rooms anyway. All was empty and silent. Jane dashed back into the hall and picked up the telephone.
She dialled the number and waited.
'Florence? Florence, I need your help.' Thank heavens it was her. Thank heavens for the matinee show and the lull in the cloakroom after the start of the performance. 'I need someone to tell me what to do. Can you talk for a minute? I'm in such trouble. Will's in such trouble.' The voice on the other end soothed, telling Jane to breathe, to calm down, to speak more slowly. 'I need to see you. Can you meet me?'
Florence always seemed to bring the city with her as she waltzed into any shop, theatre or club. She was exceptionally pretty and supremely confident. But today was an exceptional day; she seemed to know that discretion was more important than entrance and her face betrayed relief when she found Jane sitting in a corner. The two friends hugged tightly.
Jane blessed Florence as she discovered how she'd managed to leave work at short notice, calling in favours from some of her colleagues and arranging for urgent but discreet shift cover and transport. Thankfully, she had more than one would be suitor who was happy to assist in her flight to visit her very poorly great aunt.
'God, we've all been worried Jane. When you said you were going to see your mum, we knew it was wrong. We guessed that it was all to do with this Will and Hugh business. Good job we didn't contact your mum looking for you.' Her voice was low and whispery, conspiratorial.
'I was sure you'd all work it out. I'm sorry I couldn't say anything.' Jane squeezed her friend's hand. 'How was your journey? I'm so sorry to ask you to come all the way out here.'
'It's not a problem; I just pretended I was on the Orient Express with Mr Gable or Mr Flynn, or maybe both of them.' Florence winked.
'I promise I'll repay you the fare,' Jane said, trying not to smile at her friend's cheeky innuendo.
'Jane, I know a chap at Paddington; he gave me a good discount.' Florence winked again. 'Anyway, that's not what I'm here to talk about.' She'd waved away all talk of anything but Jane and looked at her pointedly. Jane took a deep breath in preparation.
'It's all gone horribly wrong Florence.' Then she qualified her statement. 'Well, it wasn't horrible at first. It was actually lovely to be alone with Will. The house, the town, the garden, it was all so… normal. It was like there was no war for a few days, no Hugh Callaghan and no danger. There was no-one but us, together. Then Hugh turned up and now he wants Will again.'
'To do what?'
'I don't know exactly. They went out just after lunch to talk about it and that's when I called you. Will came back after a while to reassure me and to apparently talk it over, then he said he was going to go back out to talk some more to Hugh. But we didn't talk it over, not really. He won't tell me much; just that Hugh wants Will to be him for a few days 'but a little more high profile' this time, whatever that means. Will can't talk to anyone else about it, so all he's got is Hugh asking him to do it and me begging him not to. It's serious Florence. Whatever it is, it's going to put Will in huge danger.'Jane tried not to cry. 'He's going to risk his life for this.'
'That bastard Hugh Callaghan, who does he think he is? What do you need me to do Jane? Just say the word.' Florence was surprised to think that Jane might be considering acting upon the suggestion she'd previously made, but she knew that Jane was completely devoted to Will and Florence would do anything she could to help her friend. For Florence life was clear cut, black and white; no grey. Right was right and wrong was wrong. You did or you didn't. You lived to the full, or you died.
'I need Mrs Cartlyn's advice. She told me not to contact her, so would you do it? Will you go and see her for me please? That's all I ask.'
Florence smiled and covered Jane's hands with her own. 'Of course I will, darling. Of course.' Florence was surprised that the request was so simple.
'Thank you.'
'You don't need to thank me darling; I'll do anything you ask.' Florence's eyes opened wider. 'Anything.'
To have friends who would die for you was one thing, but to have a friend who'd kill for you was quite another.
Jane had left a note for Will who was already back by the time she returned. He hurried into the kitchen as she came in through the back door.
'God I've been worried about you. Where've you been? Don't do that to me again, please.' He wrapped his arms around her.
'Pot and kettle Will,' she commented and he drew back to look at her.
'Touché,' he smiled. 'Where were you?' Jane left his arms and picked up her note from the table, wafting it towards him.
'I told you in my note. I went for a walk to look around the shops in the town. It's a nice afternoon and I couldn't just sit here waiting for you.' She paused. 'You're doing it aren't you?' She glanced around for Hugh.
'He's still out walking.'
'Answer my question Will.' He leaned against the table and looked at Jane, offering no reply, no explanation and no plea. Jane nodded. 'I knew…' Jane couldn't say any more and wept instead, despite trying to contain her tears. 'I knew.' As soon as the first teardrop fell free Will was holding her again.
'Oh Sunshine, I'll be alright, I promise. But I have to do this; I must finish this thing I've started. That'll be it then. As soon as it's over we'll go away, stay with Maggie and Jack or your mum until…' He stopped and started again. 'We'll go away. I promise.' He pulled back to look at her and tilted her wet face up to his with his hand. 'I promise.'
'That's three promises Will. And I don't think you'll keep a single one of them.'
'I will Jane. We'll go to the farm or we'll go to Somerset. I don't care where but we'll go. And it will all be over.' He smiled the smile that Jane couldn't resist. 'I promise.' And Jane counted four.
Will said that Hugh would be staying that night and for two more after that. A further bedroom was made up and quiet plans made between the two men. Will gently explained to Jane that he wanted her to know as little as possible. Jane argued that the less she knew the more panicky she became, but Will would still not tell her exactly what Hugh had asked of him. All he would say was that he would return to London ahead of Hugh. He asked Jane to stay at the house for at least two more weeks. Jane agreed as it was easier to appease him than argue, but knew that she wouldn't stay. She needed to be near Will,
no matter what he was up to or what he asked of her.
Jane still hoped that all the planning and subterfuge would come to nothing. She prayed that the danger could be averted and the whole episode closed as soon as Florence had spoken with Mrs Cartlyn. Mrs Cartlyn would have the answers. Mrs Cartlyn would know how to stop Hugh's plan bearing fruit.
The first evening passed uncomfortably. The wireless gave its news and its music and Jane read snatches of one of the many books lining an alcove of the living room; she tried to concentrate but it was hard. Will and Hugh chatted between listening to the radio and reading the newspapers and tried to draw Jane into the chatter, a veneer, but she found it hard to feign a smile as her stomach churned. She thought of Florence and Mrs Cartlyn, her friends in the city among the bombs and the blackout, her job, her mum, the Halls and the men who looked for Hugh.
Hugh rose and Will looked up. 'Just off for a smoke. Care to join me?' Will shook his head.
After Hugh left, Will moved to sit next to Jane. 'Come on Sunshine, smile for me.'
'I can't.' Will took her hand. 'Come on, we've got time for a spot of dancing before he comes back.' He pulled her to her reluctant feet.
'Will, no.'
'Come on, you know you want to. I don't have any corned beef sandwiches or pork pie, but we do have Glenn and the band.' He nodded to the radio then called to it, 'Play on Mr Miller.' And Mr Miller and the band played as Jane swayed half-heartedly and Will tried to encourage her into enthusiasm in his arms.
'You don't have to do it you know,' Jane whispered into Will's neck as they danced.
'Sshh.'
'Say no Will.'
'Sshh.'
They wouldn't discuss it again.
And Hugh turned from his vantage point in the hall and went up to his room before they saw him.
The waiting around was awful, but it did give Jane an excuse to meet up with Florence again the next day by claiming she was going for a walk into town to ease the tedium. Jane's discomfort at asking her friend to act as a go-between and make the lone journeys to and fro was eclipsed by the comfort and reassurance she received from her. Will said he'd join Jane for an outing but she left the house before he had the chance, sneaking out way too early to meet Florence but knowing that was the only way to avoid Will's company or his guessing that she was up to something. She hated going without him and missing the opportunity to spend some more time together. Jane walked quickly, giving Will no time to catch up when he realised she'd gone; by the time he did, she be among shops, or by the river, or able to avoid him.
Now finding herself with two hours to fill before meeting her friend, Jane discovered that in a pleasant town on a bright winter's morning it was surprisingly easy. Happy in her own company Jane's pace slowed to take in the houses and shops, the pretty riverside, the morning activity. She bought a newspaper and used some coupons to buy a few things to bolster their evening meal. She nodded and smiled to people as they passed and found a seat tucked away near a bridge where she watched a troubled world go by and read the newspaper as it shouted headlines of 'Call goes out for scrap metal' and 'Hitler says decide.'
Florence wasn't waiting when Jane entered the small park at the edge of the town. She looked around, growing more concerned with each second. As the clouds darkened and tiny drops of water started to fall, she started to question herself; had their arrangement been clear, was Florence alright, did Jane have the right time, was Florence alright, was this the right place, was Florence alright?
A hand touched her arm and Jane spun round. For a second her mind couldn't work out if her eyes were broken. Time paused for a few moments while Jane's brain spun frenzied circles inside her head. Maria Henderson in all her delicate, sophisticated beauty stood before her as it started to rain. She linked her delicate arm though Jane's.
'Come on, let's get out of this rain or we'll be soaked to our scanties,' she said as she led a stunned Jane to a little covered seating area amongst the trees. They sat down, sheltered from the rain, as Maria Henderson gently brushed rain droplets from her coat then looked at Jane who was still struck dumb. Mrs Henderson smiled kindly and took Jane's hand. 'You look numb Jane. I'm sorry if I frightened you.'
Jane's words stuttered from her lips 'I wasn't expecting you Mrs Henderson. What a, what a…' Jane struggled with her next word '…coincidence?' Her companion shook her head. 'I didn't think so.' Jane sighed and closed her eyes, then breathed slowly to calm herself. 'Is anybody in that godforsaken hotel what they seem?' she asked the air without opening her eyes.
Amid the sound of the now heavy rainfall Jane heard an elegant giggle. The delicate gloved hand holding hers squeezed before its owner answered. 'Sometimes.' Jane knew that the lips that spoke were smiling and turned to look at Mrs Henderson. She swallowed, trying to moisten a mouth that was now as dry as sandpaper.
'Mrs Henderson, where's my friend? Is Florence alright?'
'Florence is fine Jane. She delivered your message just as you asked. She wanted to come back to you but we couldn't let her; it was safer for me to come.' Jane retrieved her hand from Mrs Henderson and pressed a hand on the bench each side of her body to steady herself. She took another deep breath.
'How did you stop her coming?'
Mrs Henderson smiled, knowing what Jane was thinking. 'Just by explaining who was better placed to help, Jane, don't worry.'
'Alright, I accept that. And?'
'And I have something for you.' Jane noticed Mrs Henderson's gloved hand absently move to cover the handbag which lay on her lap, as if to protect its contents.
'Is it a message from Mrs Cartlyn? I need her help.'
'And I'm here to give it Jane.'
'I didn't know you and she were friends Mrs Henderson?'
'We don't lunch and so forth, but we have mutual acquaintances and a good amount of faith in each other. If that makes us friends, then we are. And please, Jane, it's Maria.'
'Alright, Maria. But I have to warn you that now I'm getting more confused and more frightened by the minute'
'Jane, I have something for you.' With a graceful manoeuvre Mrs Henderson unclasped the handbag and slipped her hand inside. It withdrew, then took Jane's hand and pressed something small and cold into it. The elegant hand covered Jane's, keeping the identity of the object a secret. 'Life's not simple anymore,' she sighed, 'and I don't think it ever will be again to be honest. I believe innocence has been lost.' Jane tried to pull her hand free but the delicacy of Maria's hand was deceiving and it held tight. 'Jane, I don't need to point out that war is unjust; nothing about it is fair. But it's not just on the battlefield itself that sacrifices are made. Normal people have to do things that,' she hesitated 'that, just a few months before, they couldn't have imagined in their worst nightmares. People take risks, force action and embrace fate.'
'I understand that Mrs Henderson…Maria. I see that you're, uh, not quite what I thought you were. And clearly, neither is Mrs Cartlyn. Nor Mr Callaghan. Well, ok, maybe we all had our doubts about his occupation…' Jane offered a rueful little smile and Maria joined her. 'But all this doesn't help Will. Clearly he's caught up in something he hadn't planned to be. I asked for Mrs Cartlyn's help.' Jane had momentarily forgotten about the small object in her own hand that was still a secret to her. 'Do you know what I should do?'
Maria nodded.
'Most people don't know themselves very well at all until faced with adversity. We don't know our own strength until we're threatened, or someone we love is.'
'You mean Will has the strength to deal with this himself? That's not an answer.'
'No Jane, I mean you.' Jane looked down as the elegant lady loosened her grip and she unfolded her hand to see what this refined but paradoxical woman had placed there. 'It's Hugh or Will, Jane.'
A small bottle with a paper seal over the top lay innocently in Jane's hand; a small bottle that, once dispensed, could eliminate the problem in the space of a few hours.
Jane sat on the sheltered little seat for a
long time after Maria left. She'd tried to give the bottle back, but Maria wouldn't take it. Jane was no wiser than she'd been earlier with regard to what Will was soon to do for Hugh. All she knew now was that Mrs Cartlyn and Maria Henderson were sanctioning, suggesting, that Jane should administer the toxic contents of this bottle to Hugh Callaghan. The plans Hugh had made, and which Will was to aid by taking his place, would fail; Maria had been clear on that point although she hadn't revealed what the plans were, or what would go wrong, or how she knew.
No matter what happened now, now that this bottle had been given to Jane, her life would never be normal again; even when the war was over, even if Jane ate, slept, lived, worked and behaved as before. Because she had been given this murderous item, this weapon, the decision was now hers.
She was angry and sad at the same time. These two women that she never really knew before, who were just patrons of the hotel, had now revealed themselves; but in doing so they became even less familiar. Knowing more about them she knew them even less. And they'd now put the power of fate in Jane's nervous hands.
Whatever happened now, it would be because Jane did or did not open this bottle.
Jane knew that even disposing of the bottle would equal a decision; because she'd had the choice.
And whatever action she took, she would now always look back and wonder if it had been the right decision.
Jane lost all track of time walking back to Richmond Row in the aftermath of the downpour, until she heard the frantic voice chasing her and getting closer as she neared the house. As it closed in on her location, it shook her from her stupor. The strong arms grabbed her so hard she almost fell over, but the arms that had unsteadied her now caught her in an embrace as she stumbled.
'Jane. Oh my God Jane.' Will was angry, tearful, reproachful and relieved at the same time and berated her as he held her, touched her face, kissed her and stroked her hair. He seemed to do it all at once. She noticed how wet and bedraggled he was and felt a stab of shame, knowing that he must have been desperately searching for her in the pouring rain. 'I told you not to do that again. Jane, I told you not to. I've been looking for you and worried sick. Hugh's looking too. God, we thought, I thought…' Despite the soft lips and the strong arms that revelled in her safe return, Jane felt detached as the tiny bottle weighed heavy in her bag.
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