Dominion

by C. J. Sansom

  She approached him. ‘Yes. Freezing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Bitter.’

  ‘I heard on the radio that the fog is as bad as ever in London.’

  ‘Yes. So they say.’

  She was about to walk on, she knew she shouldn’t be talking to him, but there was something appealingly pathetic about the man huddled against the railing, and she was desperately lonely. So she said, ‘Not working today?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just booked out of the hotel. Off back to London now. Not having much luck this trip. I travel in toys and novelties, you know. Going round the Sussex resorts. People normally buy in for next spring at this time of year, but times are hard.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not going to be splashing out on Christmas this year, I don’t think.’

  ‘Toys and novelties?’ She remembered her committee, the toys for poor children in the North, Mrs Templeman.

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘I’m from Brighton originally, everyone knows me round here.’ He extended a gloved hand. ‘Danny Waterson.’

  ‘Sarah Hardcastle.’

  They were silent for a moment. He said, ‘I heard the Coronation’s fixed for June.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. I phoned the office this morning and they told me. They still haven’t found anyone she’ll marry. They say the Queen Mother’s pressing German princes on her.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll stay single, like the first Elizabeth?’

  He looked across to the shore again. ‘I remember this place in 1940. Barbed wire all along the promenade, down on the beach too, concrete tank traps in the water. You can’t believe it now.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And the rationing, remember that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now you can buy what you like. So long as you can afford it.’ He spoke with a touch of bitterness. ‘I was in the Home Guard for a couple of months, remember them?’

  She did: old men and boys on the newsreels, parading with wooden sticks because there weren’t enough rifles. She had thought of how they would all be slaughtered in an invasion. Danny went on, ‘I was just too young to be called up. Then in a couple of months it was all over.’ He leaned on the railing again. ‘I wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t made peace, whether the Germans would’ve invaded. It would have been difficult, you know, getting an army across the Channel.’

  ‘They tell us it would have been easy. We’d lost all our equipment at Dunkirk.’

  ‘Maybe. Well, we made our choice in 1940 and here we are.’ From his tone he was anti-regime, though he hadn’t actually said anything incriminating.

  ‘Yes.’ Sarah sighed heavily.

  Danny shook his head sadly. ‘I worry about my kiddies’ future, I do. I saw one of those places where they’re holding the Jews outside Worthing yesterday. In the distance, from the train, it looked like an old army barracks. Surrounded with wire, guards patrolling. My wife says the Jews deserve it, they can’t be trusted, they’re not really loyal to Britain.’ He shook his head again. ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do.’

  Sarah realized she had hardly thought about the Jews over the last few days. ‘There’s been nothing on the news,’ she said.

  ‘No. People will forget soon, they do if it’s things they can’t see and don’t affect them.’

  ‘How old are your children?’ she asked.

  ‘Two boys. Six and eight. You?’

  ‘No. I – I’m a widow.’

  ‘From the 1940 war?’

  ‘No. Recently. My husband died in a car crash.’

  ‘Ah. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Maybe I should be getting back,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s cold.’

  He looked at her. ‘Must be a hard time for you, Christmas.’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I had to get away for a few days.’ She realized that lying was already coming easily to her. Had it been like that for David? She looked into Danny’s sad face and felt guilty.

  He said, nervously, ‘Perhaps you’d like to come for a drink. Lots of nice little pubs in the Lanes, warm coal fires. They’ll be opening up about now.’

  She thought, he’s trying to pick me up. But maybe not, perhaps he was just looking for companionship on this bleak morning. She hesitated a second, then smiled and said, ‘Thank you very much, but no. I should be getting back.’

  He was apologetic and a little embarrassed. ‘Of course, I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind—’

  ‘Not at all. But I must go.’

  He tipped his hat again, an awkward little gesture, then said, ‘This is a sad sort of town in winter. Maybe, don’t think I’m intruding, but maybe you’d be happier back in London.’

  She sighed. ‘Yes, perhaps. Well . . .’ She turned away.

  ‘I hope I didn’t speak out of turn—’

  ‘No. No, it was nice to talk to you.’

  She walked away, down the pier, back to the promenade, bleakly conscious of the loneliness that might now lie ahead for ever.

  As she reached the promenade a newsboy was shouting, from the stand outside the Old Ship Hotel. ‘Hitler dead!’ she heard, ‘Führer dies!’

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  AFTER PASSING THROUGH the roadblock the fire engine continued racing dangerously fast down the road, sirens blaring. At one point the driver sounded the horn and a man in a white facemask crossing the road jumped wildly out of the way, his leaping figure momentarily visible in the headlights. Then, so suddenly that David was thrown violently sideways, the powerful machine juddered to a halt. He and the others stood, a little shakily, and looked over the side. The headlights were still on and though they barely penetrated the fog David was able to see that they had stopped in front of a large stationary truck, its canvas-covered back facing them. An army truck, he thought with horror. Beside him the young man who had rescued them threw off his helmet. ‘Go on,’ he said cheerfully, ‘get down. Your new transport’s waiting.’

  ‘But it’s army . . .’

  He laughed. ‘We stole that, too. Now, come on. It won’t take the police long to realize this engine was on a fake call.’

  David climbed down into the street, Ben and Natalia and their young rescuer following. The three firemen who had been in the cab stepped out too. David looked round; they were in a cobbled street, lock-up garages on either side. He saw a man in military uniform standing beside the army truck, tall and burly.

  ‘Who’s that?’ David asked the young fireman.

  ‘Don’t know, mate. We were just told to bring you here.’ He clapped the side of the truck. ‘Good old Merryweather engine, never lets you down.’ He brought out a packet of cigarettes and passed them round. David took one gratefully.

  The military man came over, looming out of the fog. He was in his fifties, with a lined face, black moustache and severe, hard eyes. He wore the uniform of a captain. He looked them over.

  ‘Are you a real soldier?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the captain answered brusquely. ‘I’m with Churchill now. Right. All of you in the back of the truck. We need to get you out of here.’ He turned and barked, ‘Fowler, open up!’ The canvas back was pulled aside and a stringy little man in a private’s uniform jumped down, lowered the tailgate and waved them up impatiently. David saw he was carrying a rifle.

  David shook the hand of the young fireman. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at the rest of the crew. ‘Thank you all.’ They raised their hands in acknowledgement.

  ‘Come on,’ the captain said impatiently. ‘We haven’t much time.’

  They all climbed in. The truck smelt of sweat and machine oil. The private shone a torch into the back, showing a double row of benches. Another man in private’s uniform sat at the far end, with a rifle across his knees. Next to him was a civilian in a dark jacket, hunched over. David’s heart jumped when he saw it was Frank. Frank’s face lit up and he cried out, ‘It’s true! You’re alive!’

  ‘No thanks to you,’ the stringy man said grumpily in a Cockney accent. He waved his arm to indicate that Da
vid and Ben and Natalia should sit down on the benches. He closed the canvas flap, and the soldier next to Frank leaned over and banged on the back of the cab. There was a little window, giving a view into the front. The driver, another man in military uniform, was already sitting there; the captain got in beside him. The truck started and began moving slowly down the street.

  The stringy private played the torch across their faces. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘We’ll get into one of the sidestreets and then you’re all going to change into uniform. We’re going to be a group of soldiers travelling to guard duty at the Jew camp in Dover.’ He turned the beam on Natalia. ‘Except you, miss, they’ll not take you for a soldier if we’re stopped, you’re going to be dropped off and debriefed about today. You’ll rendezvous with the others later.’

  ‘Where?’ Ben asked.

  ‘You’ll find out when we get there,’ the soldier next to Frank answered quietly, in a Yorkshire accent. ‘Can’t really say anything more.’ He was a big man, with a wrestler’s build, but his manner was friendlier than his comrade’s.

  ‘Who are you all?’ David asked. ‘The man in front’s got a captain’s tabs.’

  ‘Used to be a regular soldier until Churchill left Parliament,’ the Yorkshireman answered. ‘Decided to help him “set Britain ablaze”. Remember that speech?’

  ‘And you two?’

  ‘We’re soldiers of the Resistance,’ the Cockney answered, ‘not forces of the Fascist state. We steal army uniforms as well as trucks. Two of the men who brought you here were real firemen, though. That’s their jobs finished, because of this,’ he added reproachfully. ‘They’re on the run now.’

  ‘So am I, pal,’ Ben said, an edge to his voice. ‘I had a safe job nursing in a loony bin for years till last week. That’s the price of servin’ the cause, eh?’

  ‘We’re all in it together,’ the Yorkshireman said gently.

  The truck halted. They had only travelled a few streets. The thin Cockney shone his torch under the seats; David saw a number of canvas bags there. ‘Right,’ the Cockney said briskly, ‘everybody take a bag, get out and get changed.’

  ‘I want tae know where we’re going,’ Ben said stubbornly.

  The Cockney shone the torch full in his face. ‘Listen, Jock. We lost good people tonight in London, thanks to you lot. So do as you’re fucking told. Now out, all of you.’

  They were in a narrow street beside what looked like a small factory. A man was waiting there, a thin man in a bowler hat and a long coat; he looked like a rent collector. He went over to the captain, who had stepped out of the cab, and exchanged a few whispered words. Then he came over to Natalia. ‘You’re to come with me please, miss.’

  Natalia glanced at David. She said to the man, ‘Can you give us a few moments?’

  He nodded reluctantly. ‘All right. But just a minute.’ David and Natalia stepped away from the others. He said, ‘We – I’m sorry that—’

  She smiled. ‘I’m not. How could I be? We’ll meet again soon.’ David looked at the group of soldiers, a dim huddle in the fog. Frank and Ben were changing into army uniform. ‘Will we?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll see you soon.’ She hesitated. ‘Though from what Eileen said your wife will be joining us.’

  David took her hand. ‘Do you know, that was the first time I’ve ever been unfaithful to her?’

  Natalia took a deep breath. ‘Then perhaps you were right, and it is over between you?’ She looked uncertain.

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The captain came over. ‘You have to leave now, miss,’ he said sternly. ‘And you –’ he gave David a look of disapproval – ‘you have to change into uniform. Now.’

  Natalia leaned up and kissed David quickly. ‘Till later,’ she said with a sad smile. She touched his hand briefly, then went over to the man who had come for her. Without another word the two walked away, their shapes instantly swallowed up in the fog.

  ‘Come on,’ Ben called impatiently. David wondered what the Scotsman thought of him and Natalia; he hadn’t given any sign. Geoff might have disapproved, but Geoff was dead.

  They changed quickly into thick, itchy army uniforms. They were all privates now. The uniform felt familiar to David, took him back to 1940. He adjusted his cap and felt in his pocket for the cyanide capsule he had transferred there. They climbed into the back of the truck again and it set off once more, rumbling slowly through the empty streets. Through the window into the cab David looked past the heads of the driver and the captain, outlined against the weak beams of the headlights. The road ahead was full of swirling fog.

  ‘How are you doing, old friend?’ he asked Frank quietly. He was sitting next to him; he seemed in a daze.

  ‘All right, I suppose. It’s strange wearing this uniform.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I ran, David, I broke my promise. But I thought we were going to be captured and I was the only one who didn’t have – you know, a pill.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘A church. The police were coming. This vicar found me. He helped me, got me to the Resistance people, gave me his jacket.’ He was silent again, then he said, ‘I keep thinking about Geoff.’

  ‘I know. He was a brave friend.’ He glanced at Ben, sitting on his other side. He was frowning.

  ‘You all right?’ David asked quietly.

  ‘I just wonder what they’re goin’ tae dae with us,’ Ben whispered. He looked at the Yorkshireman, then asked, ‘Where are we goin’ now?’

  ‘Out of town, that’s all I know.’

  They passed through a busy area, the truck slowing to a crawl, inching along in the fog. Then they speeded up again for a while. Outside the fog seemed to be lifting a little. Then David heard the captain say from the cab, in a tense tone, ‘Here we go.’ Looking into the cab David saw a roadblock ahead, a wooden barrier across the road. The Cockney got up and pushed David aside to watch through the glass panel as the truck pulled to a halt. The Yorkshireman leaned across and tapped Frank on the knee.

  ‘We’re being stopped. But the captain will get us through okay.’ He spoke as though to a backward child. ‘You just keep quiet. All right?’

  David whispered to Ben, ‘I suppose Frank’s pills are back at the O’Sheas’?’

  ‘The Largactil? Yes.’ A policeman appeared then, shining a torch into the cab. The captain wound the window down. ‘Evening, officer,’ he said confidently. The policeman saluted.

  ‘Where are you going, sir?’ he asked. His tone was respectfully polite but there was something worried, David thought, about his look.

  ‘Taking some men to the Jew camp at Dover. Guard duty. I’m going to be assisting the Commander.’ He handed a document to the policeman, who studied it by the light of his torch. ‘Having trouble with the Yids?’ he asked apprehensively.

  ‘No. Why should we be? But the camps need guards. Why the roadblock?’

  ‘Escaped terrorists. Three men and a woman, all in their thirties. They got away from a raid at New Cross. The Branch is pulling all the stops out on this one for some reason.’

  ‘Locking the stable door after the horse has bolted, eh?’

  ‘That’s about the size of it, sir,’ the policeman answered heavily.

  ‘We haven’t seen anybody. Though it’s hard to see your own hand in this fog.’

  ‘I know. Never seen anything like it. Strange night for – what’s happened in Germany.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Hitler’s dead. It’s official.’

  The men in the back of the cab looked at each other, their faces suddenly bright. Frank said, ‘Did he say—’ The Yorkshireman leaned forward and put a hand over his mouth. ‘Shhhh.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ David heard the captain ask.

  ‘They’re saying at the police station that it’s true.’

  ‘Good God,’ the captain said. ‘What’ll happen now?’

  ‘Who knows?’ the policeman answered. ‘I hope the Jews don’t hear, that’s why I wondered if there might
be trouble at the detention camps. Anyway, we’ve got to check all vehicles going out of London. Mind if I just have a look in the back?’

  ‘Be my guest.’ The captain leaned back and called out, ‘Open up!’

  The Cockney private opened the canvas flaps. The policeman leaned in and shone his torch over the men, and under the benches. Ben said in a joking voice, ‘Wisnae anything to do with me, Constable, that missing crate of Spam in Aldershot!’ The others laughed. The policeman grunted and closed the flap. He waved them on, saluting the captain again as they passed. Everybody let out their breath and relaxed, except Frank, who sat staring rigidly ahead.

  The captain slid open the glass partition. His face was animated now, excited. ‘You chaps hear that? They’re saying Hitler’s dead!’

  ‘That bastard, gone at last,’ the Yorkshireman said feelingly.

  They weren’t stopped again, and they drove slowly but steadily on. David thought they were heading east rather than south but he wasn’t sure. He wondered where Natalia was, whether he would see her again. And Sarah. Was it over with Sarah? He still didn’t know.

  The fog thinned further, eventually vanishing to leave the starry darkness of a December night. Twisting his head to look into the cab, David saw they were travelling along country roads now, the skeletal shapes of trees appearing and vanishing again, ghostly white in the headlights. He thought, we’re not going to the coast, we’d have been there by now. He glanced at Ben, who sat looking ahead of him, frowning. The roads became worse, the truck banging and clattering over them. As the journey continued, heads began to nod despite the jolting. David leaned across and whispered to Ben, ‘Frank’s asleep. He wasn’t looking too good earlier.’

  ‘He needs another dose. But I had to leave all his stuff at the O’Sheas’. Where the hell are they taking us?’

  ‘Why are you so worried?’ David whispered.

  ‘I want tae know where we’re going. Why won’t they tell us? There’s something in their attitude – I don’t like it.’

  ‘They’ve lost people tonight.’

  ‘So have we.’

  David sat back. After a while his eyes closed from sheer weariness. He woke with a jolt as the truck came to a halt. The captain opened the cab window. ‘Everyone out!’ he called.