A Dangerous Act of Kindness

by A Dangerous Act of Kindness (retail) (epub)

  Millie knew all right. She had a horrible feeling the drop in the number of eggs she collected had a direct connection to the number of cigarettes Ruby got hold of. Millie turned a blind eye; everyone up on the Downs was playing the system one way or another. There were more than fifty hens in her flock now and by rights all the eggs should go down to the packing station for rationing.

  June untwisted the top of the poke and handed the cone of paper to Danny. He peered in, his eyes widening, and he pulled out a square of pink and white coconut ice, shoving it into his mouth, bulging his cheek, his feet drumming against the side of the platform with sheer bliss.

  Millie watched the dancers, wondering what on earth to do about Brigsie. A red-faced squaddie, supported by two eager friends, sidled over and asked June for a dance. One of his friends lingered for a moment beside Millie, his foot tapping the floor but pluck abandoned him and, pulling at his earlobe, he shuffled away. She leant back on the edge of the platform beside Danny.

  Danny swallowed hard and fished out another square of ice.

  ‘Doesn’t my Mum look beautiful?’ he said, pushing the sweet into his mouth.

  Millie watched June as she danced, and he was right. This new life suited her. She’d lost that cringing quality and held her head high with a kind of bashful confidence.

  ‘She’s looking very bonny,’ she said. ‘I bet your daddy wouldn’t recognise her if he could see her now.’ Danny didn’t reply. ‘Do you miss your daddy?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Daddy didn’t like us very much.’

  Millie turned, looked into the boy’s face but he stared past her, watching the dancers, chewing manfully, flecks of desiccated coconut clinging to his lips.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Popular girl,’ Hugh said, emerging from the crowd on his own and pointing towards Ruby who was now in the arms of an RAF pilot. He pushed his hair back off his face and turned, laughing. When he looked back at Millie his expression changed and he frowned but she could see he was trying not to laugh at her.

  ‘I feel ridiculous,’ she said.

  ‘Well, it’s different.’

  ‘She looks beautiful, like my mum.’

  ‘You’re right, Danny.’ Hugh leant across, his arms folded, as if he was talking to a chum at the bar. ‘Is Mrs Sanger promised to you for the whole evening, or can you spare her for a dance?’

  Danny waved his poke of sweets towards the crowd.

  ‘You can dance with her.’

  ‘Thank you, Danny.’

  Without looking at her, Hugh took her by the hand and walked her onto the floor. When he turned to face her, there was a sort of stubborn purpose in his expression. The band finished playing A Sentimental Journey and the drummer began to beat out a syncopated rhythm that produced several whoops of approval from the room – a swing number was coming. The rest of the band bawled out the tune and the room erupted into a boil of excitement.

  It caught her unawares, an overwhelming desire to move with the crowd but, as they danced, she felt waves of irritation each time Hugh’s body bumped against her, losing the rhythm. The tempo seemed to go on and on. She was out of breath although she couldn’t hear herself panting above the volume of the brass which shouted the melody over the heads of the spinning dancers. When her chest was bursting and her legs burning, the syncopation drummed out one more riff before the brass shrieked the final, deafening discord.

  Couples broke apart, laughing; some put hands on their knees to catch their breath, others spun on more slowly, unable to let go of the spring the music had wound up in them. The band began to play the opening bars of When You Wish Upon a Star and the dancers around them clinched for the slow dance, she saw a look of indecision flutter across Hugh’s face.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ she said, ‘but I could do with a drink.’

  As she sipped her punch, the slow number finished and the crowd patted hands together. Someone shouted out, ‘More swing!’ and cheers went up from people in different parts of the hall. The conductor bowed to his audience, muttered something to his band and they were off. Hugh turned to her, a questioning uncertainty in his face, but before she could respond, Ruby swept out of the crowd, grabbed Hugh by the hand, and hauled him off onto the dance floor.

  Part of her wanted to be out there dancing, twirling around the hall. For a few precious minutes she’d been lifted out of herself, tumbling along in the vortex of the music, forgetting everything. The music seemed to be getting wilder, the dancers more abandoned and as Hugh and Ruby flashed past her, laughing into each other’s faces, she sighed heavily and put her punch glass back on the bar. She pushed through the crowd until she was out of the hall. It was cold in the corridor. She walked this way and that until she found the ladies’ powder room.

  It was empty. She could still hear the bawl of the band on the other side of the wall. She looked at herself in the mirror over the basin. Her hair had come loose, and in a fit of pique she pulled the pins out, letting the hair drop, raking her fingers through the stiff strands, trying to separate them. The sugar water had made it sticky and lank; she should have left it where it was.

  She made a poor attempt to pile it back but she didn’t have Ruby's skill and abandoned the task, remembering to pocket the pins. Losing them was apparently a hanging offence. She pinched her cheeks to bring some colour back, bent her head down to the tap and took a long draught of water. She pressed her hands onto the edge of the sink and leant towards the mirror.

  The door into the cloakroom banged and she looked up. Brigsie was standing there, her hand reaching out for the handle to leave again.

  Chapter Fifty One

  ‘Brigsie. Wait,’ Millie said.

  Brigsie dropped her hand and stood, stiff as a board, her eyes looking past Millie, her mouth thin and stubborn. Millie came towards her and said, ‘You must tell me what’s wrong. I’ve upset you, I know I have, but I don’t know how so I can’t put it right.’

  Brigsie’s eyes darted around the room. She looked angry, trapped, and Millie wondered if she should let things lie, allow time to sort out whatever it was that troubled her friend.

  Then, as she tried to read Brigsie’s expression, an extraordinary thing happened. Brigsie’s face seemed to crumple, her upper lip stiffened into a straight line and she let out a shuddering sob, all the more terrible because it sounded so unpractised, unnatural, like a man’s.

  Millie came forward and reached out, grasping Brigsie by her arm. Brigsie shook herself free and scrabbled around in her pocket until she found a handkerchief. She leaned back against the wall and covered her face for a few moments, squeezing the corners into her eyes.

  ‘I know,’ she spluttered from behind the handkerchief.

  ‘Know what?’ Millie said, feeling a mounting wave of panic. Brigsie pulled the handkerchief away from her face, her eyes fierce.

  ‘I know you helped that German pilot.’ Cold concrete poured into Millie’s guts. ‘I found some buttons, outside. German buttons. You helped him, didn’t you? You helped him and he stayed and…’ Another sob snatched the words away.

  Millie felt the whole room rush away from her, racing backwards past the figure of Brigsie which stayed in the same place, every feature of her face vivid, the bloodless lips stretched in misery over her teeth, the tears spilling from her eyes, that terrible stare that was almost unbearable.

  ‘I…’ Millie stopped. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘It’s true. I know it’s true,’ Brigsie said, craning her neck forward now until another sob forced its way up. ‘I know it’s true because you changed overnight and you kept saying it was because of Jack and I knew it wasn’t because of Jack. I knew something else had changed and I thought you’d met a soldier or something and I thought, good on you, but I didn’t know who it was and then we found the parachute and you went home when you didn’t need to go home and I found the buttons and then, and then…’

  ‘It’s not true.’

  What els
e could Millie say?

  ‘It’s not true.’

  That wasn’t good enough. Brigsie knew too much already.

  ‘All right, it is true. I gave him clothes…’

  Brigsie roared and Millie heard herself shushing, telling her to be quiet. Brigsie’s eyes were staring, blazing at her.

  ‘You would have done the same…’ Millie said.

  Brigsie made a halting ‘Huh!’ sound,

  ‘… but he went, straight away,’ Millie said.

  ‘Something happened. You kept quiet because something happened between you.’ Brigsie’s face twisted into a mask of disgust.

  ‘Nothing happened. Have you gone mad?’ Millie said, aware that her voice was getting shrill.

  And then, quite unbidden, she heard herself saying, ‘I wouldn’t do that to Hugh. You know I wouldn’t do that to Hugh.’

  She grabbed Brigsie by both arms, pulled her closer.

  ‘I know it was stupid but I knew that if I gave him the clothes and let him burn his uniform, he’d go away, leave me alone and he did. But nothing happened. He was a German.’

  Millie could picture him now, another man, not Lukas at all.

  ‘I was afraid of him.’

  It tumbled from her mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

  She could hear the steady drip of a tap, the hiss of one of the water cisterns filling, and further away, the merry rhythm of music.

  ‘Why you didn’t tell anyone?’ Brigsie said.

  ‘I couldn’t. I was trapped by the blizzard. I couldn’t get help.’ Millie was warming to her theme. ‘I was all on my own, I was terrified, but it worked and he went away. I was sure he’d be captured. I didn’t want to think about it ever again. I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.’

  ‘You had everything to do with it.’

  ‘I know but I was all on my own.’

  ‘He came to the farm?’

  ‘Yes, of course he came to the farm.’

  ‘When you were out?’

  ‘Out?’

  She couldn’t remember the chain of events that day. Did Brigsie know she’d gone up to check the silage? No, Brigsie had gone for the day by then.

  ‘You told me Gyp ran off,’ Brigsie said.

  ‘Did I? I can’t remember. All I remember is I was so afraid. He said if I breathed a word to anyone he’d come back and he’d kill me.’

  It was so easy now to go on lying.

  ‘Later, when the snow had gone and I had people in the house and I knew I was safe again, I still couldn’t say. It was too late. And I was ashamed. I felt so guilty. And I was afraid people wouldn’t believe me. I was afraid they’d think the same as you…’

  Brigsie had stopped crying. She sniffed deeply and stared at the floor, her hand mashing the handkerchief into a tight ball. ‘Were you really frightened?’

  ‘Terrified.’

  ‘You could have told me. You shooed me away. Why did you shoo me away if you were so frightened? You should have told me.’

  ‘I know. I so wish I had. As the weeks went by, I felt worse and worse about it. Brigsie…’ Millie felt Brigsie’s arm twist under the pressure of her fingers. She released her grip, her hands aching. ‘Please don’t split on me. It was months ago. No one need ever know, just you and me.’

  ‘And a Nazi.’

  Millie hung her head and nodded. Her panic was subsiding and into its place an awful guilt pushed in. She felt hate and disgust for herself. She wished it was that word Nazi that triggered her guilt, but it wasn’t. It was her vehement denial of the love she felt for Lukas that appalled her. She thought it was so strong. Perhaps it was but she was weak; too weak to tell the truth, too gutless to stand up and be counted. God, how many times had she railed at Jack in her head for his cowardice?

  ‘You must tell,’ Brigsie said. ‘Go to the police and tell them.’

  ‘I can’t. It’s too long ago now. It makes me look guilty. I beg you, don’t say anything.’

  Brigsie started to shake her head, very slowly, side to side.

  ‘I don’t know, Millie.’

  ‘Please help me. They could hang me.’ Millie began to cry. Faced with reparation, her crime now seemed infinitely greater and terror washed over her with suffocating power.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Brigsie pushed herself away from the wall. ‘Don’t cry.’ Millie thought she was going to hug her and would’ve been glad of it but instead Brigsie glanced at the door, still looking distressed. ‘I suppose it’s for the best – all this time later.’

  ‘It is. I’d be in your debt forever. You’ve been such a good friend to me.’ Brigsie made an odd noise and Millie thought she was going to start crying again. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ Millie added, the words cracking a little.

  ‘I’ve missed you too,’ Brigsie said but her voice had a hardness to it.

  ‘Please can we try to put it behind us.’

  She gave Millie a level, wounded, let-down look.

  ‘I’ll try but I must get back,’ Brigsie said.

  ‘Didn’t you need the loo?’

  ‘What? Oh, that. I’ll come back later.’ And with an attempt at a tight smile, Brigsie pulled the door open.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Millie said. ‘I’m going back to the dance. It’s all yours.’ And she slipped through the open door.

  Millie wanted to go home. She couldn’t enjoy herself now. She’d soothed her fears of discovery with the passing months but now, thoughts of arrest and imprisonment clutched at her again. And as for punishment… Christ! Her neck stretched, her face bloated and bruised, her body a corpse, just like Jack’s. Hell, the whole thing was intolerable; so bad she wished she could go to bed tonight and never wake up.

  Wait, what was she saying? She mustn’t think like that. She couldn’t think like that, not after all the judgement she’d poured onto Jack. She must calm herself. She’d never heard of a civilian hanging for such an offence. She mustn’t panic. She must carry on, quash this terror down, just like all the other horrible, damaging thoughts she battled with after Jack died.

  She pushed through the doors of the hall, determined to find Hugh, ask him to take her home. The music wasn’t exciting any more; it jarred her and the jumping figures looked fiendish. The cigarette smoke hung from the ceiling like low cloud, muting the colours of the flags and bunting.

  She veered around people as she made her way back to where she’d left Danny and June. She couldn’t see them. She stared out across the boiling crowd, but she couldn’t see Hugh either. She spotted Ruby near the punch table, her hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead. She was leaning on her elbows, cigarette in hand, purring away at a lad in uniform. Ray Townsend loitered nearby.

  ‘Ruby,’ Millie called out and Ruby turned, a flash of irritation in her face.

  ‘What?’ she shouted back.

  ‘Have you seen Hugh?’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Gone. Gone where?’

  ‘That little blighter Danny started whingeing about feeling sick and Hugh took them back to the farm.’

  Millie’s anxiety hurtled in a new direction. She was stuck in this mad melee of revellers in the middle of a horrid war. She was about to appeal to Ruby to tell Ray to run them both back home but she saw Ruby glance across at him, stub out her cigarette and turn her back on the soldier.

  ‘Come along, Ray,’ she said, giving Millie a canny look, ‘give us a spin round the dance floor. Plenty more fun to be had tonight before we go home,’ and she pushed him out into the crowd.

  The soldier, who had the lazy lids of a drunk, leaned over to Millie.

  ‘Hello, love,’ he said. ‘Look’s like you’re in luck.’

  ‘Oh, push off,’ Millie said.

  Chapter Fifty Two

  ‘Dear, oh dear,’ Hugh said, holding a comforting hand on the boy’s back while Danny chucked up at the edge of the drive. ‘All done now?’ It was late dusk and the Austin was parked at Enington Farm. June was clearing up the mess in the footw
ell and when Hugh turned and looked behind him, he could see the pale shape of her bottom sticking out of the passenger door, wobbling as she worked.

  Hugh blamed himself. He should have pulled over earlier but he thought, if he could get the poor chap to bed, he’d feel better. Oh well, he’d feel better now. Poor June kept on saying sorry and scrabbled between the front seats into the back in a rather undignified way to try to stem the flow but frankly, she’d nothing to be sorry about.

  Danny had finished. Instead of looking relieved, he looked terrified. He’d bowed his head and cowered away from Hugh like a frightened pup.

  ‘Don’t worry, old fellow,’ Hugh said. ‘It happens to the best of us.’ The boy looked up at him, eyes as big as saucers. ‘I can tell you one thing though,’ Hugh went on, ‘it’ll put you off coconut for life.’

  You and me both, Hugh thought, turning away from the mess in the drive and guiding the boy towards the house.

  ‘It’s nearly done,’ June muttered as he passed, then hissed at Danny, ‘stay here.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Hugh said. ‘I’ll get him to bed.’

  ‘He don’t want to be no bother, do you Danny?’

  ‘It’s no bother. Come along, old chap,’ then, ‘Oh, blast…’ as Gyp shot past and headed straight for the edge of the drive. ‘Leave it!’ Hugh shouted but gave up with a dismissive wave of his hand. At least Millie wouldn’t have to rake the gravel over it in the morning.

  He took Danny upstairs and made him clean his teeth – ‘Takes that horrid taste away,’ – then helped him to strip off his outer clothing before rolling him into bed and tucking a fresh towel from the linen cupboard over the pillow just in case. He went back downstairs, filled up a glass of water and found an enamel bowl which he put on the floor beside Danny before sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute and looking down at the pale face.

  ‘How do you feel now?’ he said.

  ‘Bit better,’ Danny mumbled into the towelling.

  ‘Good lad. Well, there’s a bowl just there if you get caught short and Mummy’ll be up soon. Probably best if you try and get a bit of shut-eye. You’ll be right as ninepence in the morning.’