A couple of weeks later, on July 4th, a strange event occurred. Millie was shocked to hear about it on the radio and read about it in the newspapers later. Alfred Lowenstein had left Croydon Airport aboard his Fokker Trimotor bound for Brussels. On board were the pilot and the mechanic in their own sealed cockpit. Lowenstein was in the main cabin with his valet, his male secretary and two female secretaries. The weather was perfect.
About half way across the English Channel, Lowenstein put down the documents he was working on and went to the back of the plane to use the toilet. After twenty minutes or so, his valet became concerned and went to check on him. He found the toilet empty and the exit door of the plane open. Lowenstein was nowhere to be found.
The pilot was informed and decided to land on a deserted French beach near Dunkirk. The beach turned out not to be deserted, but in use by the French military. After the facts were eventually revealed by the pilot, the local police were called. No one was charged, although it was all very mysterious. Had old Lowenstein committed suicide? And if so, why? Or was it foul play?
24
THE THIRD SEANCE
Monday, August 6, 1928
Millie arranged for a third sitting with Eileen Garrett. She needed to tell Hinchliffe how pleased she was and to thank him for all he was doing. She knew he'd worked behind the scenes coaxing people, even though they weren’t aware of it. She also knew he needed cheering up. But on the way from the train station, she had a shocking experience. She saw an airship in the sky. It dipped its nose violently, as if it were going to crash. It leveled out for a few moments with smoke billowing from its nose. Then she saw flames. It dived again more precipitously, disappearing into a black cloud bank below. Millie knew this must be a vision—although it was so vivid—because behind the ship, she saw the Eiffel Tower. Millie stumbled on, feeling sick, toward the Spiritualist Alliance building.
She was still shaking when she was shown into the sitting room on the second floor, where Eileen awaited her. After a few minutes relating her experience to Eileen, the medium went into trance.
“I see by your aura your psychic powers have developed enormously,” Uvani said.
“I just saw a terrible thing in the sky. It seemed so real—” Millie said.
“It was a vision, my dear. A warning. Be not afraid. But first things first. Your husband's here.”
Millie calmed down quickly, astonished to hear what Uvani had said.
“Dear Raymond, thank you for all you do. I'm getting so much support from friends and influential people. I know it's your doing. Lord Beaverbrook is now helping us,” she said.
“You must keep your hopes up about the insurance, Millie. It's definitely coming. The month I've been given is July—the last day of July,” Hinchliffe told her.
“We'll see. I hope you're right, dear,” Millie replied.
“I've been around Lord Inchcape recently, with Elsie. I should tell you she's pleased with the help you're getting. She's furiously working on the old man. I wouldn't be surprised to see him taking an interest in spiritualism when this is all over. Elsie's passing has changed him. He's become very thoughtful—he misses her a lot—more than he thought possible. I’m seeing movement there,” Hinchliffe said.
“Ray, the one thing I can't get out of my mind is—where did your body wash up—if it did?”
“It wound up on the rocks in Jamaica, nothing but skin and bone was left by August—scattered between the rocks. The other wheel came ashore down there too, a few miles away.”
Millie could hardly speak for a few moments. The thought of it was sickening. She held her head. “What happened to Lowenstein? You heard he was missing from his plane over the English Channel?” she asked.
“Yes, I heard about that. I'm not sure he's really dead. I've tried to find him, but no one here knows anything.” Hinchliffe changed the subject of dead people in the water. “And now, Millie, we have work to do.”
“You mean regarding the Cardington R101?”
“I'm worried about our friends. The vision you just had in the street was a warning.”
“What shall we do?”
“Tell the world. Your words and paintings will speak volumes.”
As soon as Millie got home, she went to the studio and sketched a picture of her vision of Cardington R101 near Paris in flames. The Sinclairs stared in horror when they saw it. From the sketch, Millie did a large canvas painting in vivid color. Sinclair had become a true believer, scared to death of it all, but a true believer. He looked at Millie's painting and shook his head, sadly as if to say, 'what can we do?'
Over the course of the coming year, they seemed to live in a state of limbo. In reality, they were not. They felt as if they were eking out a living, but were lucky in many ways. Millie taught photography and art classes. She reproduced many of her paintings and sold them in an art shop in Croydon. Grantham Hunt was a favorite. With Doyle's permission, she’d sold several copies of his portrait, too. She’d managed to bring out much of the beauty of his character, his kindness, his naivety, his heart—both that of a child and of a lion. All this was clearly displayed in his aura.
Someone wanted to buy the Lowenstein portrait, but she wouldn't part with it—she didn't really know why. Maybe it was a link to her husband, because he'd flown him around so much in the past. Perhaps she had a slight connection to the man. She continued to wonder what had happened to him.
It turned out that his body became entangled in the nets of English fishermen in August. Millie asked Hinchliffe about it again during one of her sessions with Eileen. He told her Lowenstein had finally turned up. He'd come to Hinchliffe in a very bad state, telling him that he'd been allowed to seek him out. Lowenstein begged and pleaded for help. He needed someone to vouch for him, he said. Someone who'd say a kind word for him. He'd had difficulty on that score. Hinchliffe was the only person he could think of. Hinchliffe was pleased to do it, especially since he'd been the first to send Millie money—even though it was money he owed and was late.
It appeared Lowenstein had done wrong in the manner of his death, but explained that he couldn't stop himself. His compulsion to die had exceeded his urge to live. It wasn't until he was out in the freezing air, hurtling toward the icy sea that he realized he'd made a horrible mistake. A mistake he couldn't undo. During his descent, his life had played out before his eyes—it seemed for an agonizing eternity. On hitting the water, he immediately found himself in a worse place than Hinchliffe had done.
It had filled Lowenstein with terror and he called out to God, to Jesus, to the Mother of God and the Holy Spirit to have mercy on him. His cries were heard and he managed to escape and gradually he came to brighter places and then to Hinchliffe. Hinchliffe said that he was a changed man, very humble. He'd never seen Lowenstein like that.
It was all very strange. It seemed that Lowenstein's wife would inherit the money—but no one would say how much—or if indeed there was a great fortune. Millie read that his wife hadn't attended the funeral and Lowenstein's name hadn't even been put on his gravestone. Millie remembered Lowenstein's fuss over the magpie. It made her sad.
Sinclair was enterprising with his end of things; he also worked at the Coach & Horses as a relief barman four nights a week and during the day, sometimes. He also worked in the local garage part-time, putting his mechanical skills to work. He even helped out across the road with Barney at his forge some days. He became adept at shoeing horses. He’d put a sign out on the road advertising vegetables, eggs and honey. His efforts contributed to the household income.
Millie played the organ in the village church. She earned a pittance for that, but she did it more for the love of the community and the comfort she got out of it than anything. Millie started receiving a monthly check from the Airman's Wife Fund organized through the Beaverbrook organization. This usually ran to about twenty-five pounds per month. Millie and the Sinclairs felt truly blessed. They had diverse talents and they had each other. But still the feeling of being
in limbo remained. The fund couldn't continue forever.
Millie saw Eileen Garrett once a month, usually traveling up to London with Mrs. East. Mrs. East became one of the family and loved to babysit. Her life had become enriched and more meaningful. Over the coming months, Millie began seriously developing her powers of mediumship, sitting 'in circle' with others under the supervision of powerful mediums of the Spiritual Alliance in Belgravia.
She sometimes visited the homes of well-known mediums around London where she had illuminating experiences, often seeing Hinchliffe and other loved ones of attendees in 'transfiguration séances', where their spiritual image overlaid that of the medium, and in other cases where spirits actually materialized 'in the flesh'. Millie entered into these meetings with skepticism, as fraud in these activities was notorious. Once or twice, she actually got up and walked out, realizing it was a scam.
During this time, there was a great deal of growth in Millie's character and psychic development, not to mention her soul. She began visiting women's groups, who enthusiastically sought her out to come and speak to them about life after death. Once it was revealed that she was a wonderful classical pianist, they would coax her into playing for them whenever a piano was available. Gradually, she overcame her dislike of performing in public. She also spoke about her art, often bringing some of her best pieces to display. Hinchliffe was immensely proud of her.
Doyle frequently accompanied Millie to these meetings and, naturally, he was a huge hit. At other times, Hunter went along; he, too, the ladies found interesting, as a successful journalist. Mrs. East never missed these meetings, becoming a popular figure herself. During this year, Hunter had proved himself to be a good friend, although he would have liked to be more. He trod carefully. He knew her heart remained with her husband and probably always would. He came to Pickwick Cottage once in awhile and played the latest hit tunes to cheer Millie up as he did at the women’s group meetings when he was there. Millie had become quite fond of him.
Hinchliffe had been keeping tabs on his friends at Cardington ever since his own demise. He'd looked over Captain Irwin's and Navigator Johnston's shoulders constantly, following their day-to-day activities. Captain Irwin continued monitoring construction and updating engineering drawings. Johnston worked on all matters concerning planning and navigating new routes to far-off places.
During the course of the year, Hinchliffe passed on a lot of information to Millie—things he'd seen and heard concerning the airship's faults—things that seriously worried him.
Hinchliffe had heard their comments about him after he'd been missing for over a week. He'd followed Irwin down the corridor to Johnston's office. Irwin looked extra glum as he'd poked his head inside Johnston's door.
“Looks like poor old Hinch is a gonner, then, Johnny,” Irwin had said mournfully.
“Don't count him out yet, old son,” Johnny had replied.
Hinchliffe was saddened by that exchange. Why hadn't he heeded their advice? And why don't they heed his! He was becoming increasingly worried about his friends. He didn't have the least faith in their project.
Hinchliffe also moved around the sheds. He liked to listen to the workmen. No one took any notice of him; obviously, they couldn't see him. Then, one afternoon, he realized that a certain young man could see him quite plainly. Hinchliffe recognized him from their Cardington visit the previous September. He kept staring at Hinchliffe as if to say, 'I know you. I saw you here with your pretty wife not long ago.'
“What are doing here?” he'd mumbled. “You're supposed to be dead, ain'tcha!”
“What's your name, son?” Hinchliffe had asked him.
“Me name's Joe, Joe Binks.”
Hinchliffe put a finger to his lips. This was to be their little secret. Binks’s jaw dropped open. Binks's coworker heard him.
“Talkin' to yerself now, Joe, are yuh? What's up, mate? Are you goin' barmy?” he said.
Hinchliffe had smiled at Binks mischievously and then sauntered off to find out more about what was going on at the Royal Airship Works. When Hinchliffe was making his recovery from his Atlantic ordeal and his passing, he found that he could move at the speed of thought. He could visit Pickwick Cottage or Glenapp Castle in the blink of an eye. It was the same with the Vickers company in Yorkshire where the sister ship Howden R100 was under construction. He liked to pop up there to look around and compare what was going on. It wasn't long before he felt the animosity between the two teams of airshipmen. That made him even more worried, believing it would make them prone to take unnecessary risks. Heaven knows, he knew all about that!
25
ANOTHER VISIT TO CARDINGTON
Wednesday, June 19, 1929.
Millie had been keeping up with the political goings on during this past year. The morale in Britain during the early months of 1929 had fallen drastically, with the popularity of the Conservative Government dropping to new lows. A general election was called and the Conservatives won 260 seats. Labour won 287. This was not enough for Labour to form a majority until Lloyd George threw in his 59 Liberal Party votes. Thus, the Labour party took up the reins of power once again and Lord Thomson was back in his old job as Minister of State for Air. Thomson was anxious to get up to Cardington to view his brainchild, HMA Cardington R101. Much was made of this in the newspapers and Hunter let Millie know that he, along with the rest of the press, had been summoned to Cardington House where Thomson would give an address concerning progress of the Airship Program. Millie knew it was important to be there. Doyle agreed to go with her.
The train driver leaned over the rail in a sooty vest, a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes on Millie as she and Doyle walked along the platform. She took no notice. They'd reached St. Pancras in good time, climbed aboard the train and sat beside the window, opposite each other. Millie felt nervous. These were important people whose feathers she'd be ruffling. But she was resolved. Hinchliffe was adamant that they should do whatever they could to prevent another airship disaster. Millie cringed when she recognized Brancker coming along the platform accompanied by the statuesque Lord Thomson, together with another man she didn't know. She saw a railwayman acknowledge them. “Mornin', sir,” he said brightly.
“Good morning to you, my dear sir!” Thomson gushed.
“That's the man we've got to stop, right there!” Doyle said, suddenly noticing Thomson.
Millie's heart missed a beat. She smiled weakly and nodded. She kept her eyes down as the three men moved past their window to their own carriage. When she looked up, she saw two men following Thomson and his companions. They wore bowler hats and black raincoats, white shirts and ties. One was tall with a beaky nose and beady eyes. He reminded her of a raven. The other was short, and he had a limp—he seemed to scamper to keep up. They had to be Thomson's security detail.
Millie was glad Doyle was with her. He gave her strength. She tried to keep calm. Doyle appeared relaxed, untroubled by the disruption they were bent on causing. He opened The Times and began reading. A loud whistle blew and innumerable doors slammed down along the train. Suddenly, Hunter dashed through the platform barrier and ran along the train peering in the windows. He spotted Millie, grabbed the door handle and jumped in as the train juddered forward.
“Ah, Mrs. Hinchliffe, I thought you'd be on this train.”
“Mr. Hunter!”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, my boy! Come and sit down with us,” Doyle said happily. They made a good trio, having seen a lot of each other over this past year.
Meanwhile, their fellow travelers—that is Lord Thomson and company—had settled down contentedly in their first class compartment. This was a big day for Thomson. He couldn't wait to reach Cardington.
“Well, here we are again, Sefton, back where it counts!”
“It's good to have you back, CB,” Brancker said.
“We'll need to visit Egypt—make sure everything's on schedule with their mooring mast and shed. Damned pity we lost our man,
Hinchliffe. He'd have been ideal to fly us out there,” Thomson said.
Brancker shook his head sadly. “It was a terrible loss.”
“Did the widow ever get the insurance money?”
“No.”
“They should have taken care of that woman,” Thomson snapped.
“Perhaps you'll come back with another magic carpet,” Knoxwood said brightly, getting back to the subject. Knoxwood was Thomson's private secretary at the Ministry. He knew that one of Thomson's most prized possessions was a Persian rug presented to him in Iraq.
“Our magic carpet, Knoxwood, will be His Majesty's Airship Cardington R101, which will transport us first to Egypt and then India.”
“Well put, CB,” Brancker chortled.
Millie watched the squalid backyards of Camden Town pass slowly by. Doyle lowered his newspaper and gave her a reassuring smile. The train entered a tunnel. In the gloom, Millie noticed Hunter's aura for the first time. There was a lot of blue and pink, emphasizing his writing skills. Orange showed he was good-natured, and yellow that he was a good communicator, which he seemed to be. Green showed he was practical at doing stuff around the home, such as decorating and gardening, like Millie herself.
She looked at her own worried reflection in the window. Gradually, Hinchliffe's image appeared behind her, startling her at first. This alerted Hunter, who wondered what she'd seen. After taking a deep breath, Millie smiled. Hinchliffe smiled back lovingly. Doyle lowered his newspaper again and caught sight of the exchange. Although he couldn't see what she saw, he guessed. He grinned at Millie. Hinchliffe had galvanized her. Millie spent the rest of the journey making notes for a speech she'd be making on Friday in Brixton at Lambeth Town Hall.
The wheels clacked along rhythmically over the tracks. In first class, the airship discussion was still going on, while the train glided unhurriedly through grimy rows of terraced houses. Thomson loved that sound. Train rides always put him in a good mood.
The Ghost of Captain Hinchliffe Page 16