CHAPTER FIVE

The following day, having returned home to the Dower House the night before, just in time to read Anna a bedtime story, Maisie was seated alongside Lady Rowan Compton in the drawing room at Chelstone Manor. She held the older woman's hand.

‘You have been my strength, Maisie,' said Rowan, patting Maisie's hand. ‘Such a strength, a godsend.'

‘Lord Julian was not feeling well for a long time, though he surprised us all with his determination to – to not be a burden. But you're tired, Rowan – it will be a while before you feel like your old self again.'

‘I thought he would go on and on, you know, with the odd setback, the occasional week of worry about his chest. He always seemed to come through, didn't he?'

Maisie smiled. ‘He was a man of valour, of that there is no doubt. They could write a book about him from that wonderful obituary in TheTimes.' 92

Rowan sighed, touching fingers to a lock of silver hair that had escaped the chignon at her neck. ‘We lost two children, Maisie …'

‘Yes, I know, Rowan. I understand. It's the ache that remains.'

Rowan reached across with her other hand. ‘If anyone knows, it's you. When James was killed …' She shook her head, continuing even as her voice broke. ‘We were grief stricken, but I wondered if you could go on. It was an utter tragedy – there's no other word for it, for you to have seen your husband killed and then have the shock cause you to endure the loss of your child, your future.'

Maisie bit her lip, remembering James, so excited, laughing, slapping an engineer on the back as he walked towards the brand-new aircraft undergoing tests for flightworthiness. ‘Don't worry, darling,' he had told her. ‘Don't fret – it's only for about fifteen minutes up in the clouds, putting her through her paces, and I'll be down again. If you get someone to put the kettle on, I'll be back before it comes to the boil.' And as she watched him step onto the wing and climb into the cockpit, she whispered, ‘You promised. You promised me never again – never would you fly again.' But now she must offer solace to Rowan, whose daughter, her adventure-loving firstborn, had perished in girlhood, drowning in a local river despite Rowan and Julian diving into the rushing water time and again to save their child. Young James witnessed their attempts, and Maisie knew it had haunted him, boy and man.

‘My children and grandchildren, lost to me.'

‘Rowan—?'

Before Maisie could ask a question, Rowan put her hand to her chest and smiled, as if anxious to deflect dark memories. ‘Anna has been balm for my aching heart – and Julian loved her, adored that child as if she were indeed his blood granddaughter.' 93

‘And she loved him, Rowan – look at how she would often run over here for tea after school and burst straight into his study. Anyone else would have been treated to the sharp edge of his tongue.' Maisie looked up at the grandfather clock. ‘In fact, any minute now we'll hear the kitchen door banging and Mrs Horsley yelling at her to take off her shoes.'

‘Yes, but she'll also be smiling and pretending to be upset when one of those gingersnaps goes missing.' Rowan was thoughtful. ‘Gingersnaps – isn't it funny that Anna loves gingersnaps and they were James's favourite too? Do you remember how he used to get his hands slapped for filching them straight out of the oven? Mind you, I don't think our new cook is quite up to Mrs Crawford's standards.'

‘New? Mrs Horsley has been with you for well over ten years now.'

‘Oh dear, time does fly, doesn't it? And I'm not getting any younger.'

Maisie smiled, bracing herself for the conversation she knew she must initiate.

‘Rowan—'

‘Maisie, I have known you since you were just thirteen years old – do you think I am not aware that you are doing your duty and must broach a troubling subject? I'm ready to discuss the move. It was what Julian wanted, so it is incumbent upon me to do his bidding. After all, this is a Compton family house and we are on Compton family land. With no heirs, he made the very best decision.'

‘Yes, without doubt he thought of all possible outcomes and took the necessary steps.' With a gentle movement, Maisie extracted her hands from Lady Rowan's grasp and lifted a buff-coloured folder from the document case at her feet. ‘Now then, I've had another letter from Mr Klein – who, thankfully, is well on the mend.'

‘Not sure if I'm in favour of the son.' 94

‘Neither am I, but as long as he's a competent solicitor, we should be in good hands. Mr Klein has said that while there is not the urgency to put into action the necessary arrangements for you to move from your home, we should look towards the near future. He acknowledges that such plans were rather difficult during Lord Julian's final illness.'

‘Understatement.'

‘Indeed.' Maisie leafed through more papers and laid out a map of the Chelstone estate. Chelstone Manor was situated at the centre of a shallow valley surrounded by farmland managed by the estate's tenant farmers. A long carriage sweep extended past the entrance and the rose-clad Dower House at the top of the hill to the left, followed by the Groom's Cottage – where Frankie Dobbs had once lived – secluded among trees farther down into the valley. Visitors would pass lawns and acres of landscaped gardens before reaching the manor house. ‘The National Trust would like to take possession before next summer, which they think might be a good year for visitors,' she explained.

‘Oh dear – that will come around at speed.'

‘Yes, but remember the refugees? I've instructed Mr Klein to put it to the Trust that, as we have been approached by the Central British Fund to assist, and have agreed to take in a number of the Jewish refugees from … from …' Maisie looked at the papers. ‘It's in Czechoslovakia, yes, here it is – Theresienstadt – then we should be accorded more time until they take over the property per Lord Julian's will. The children will be arriving after they have completed their recovery and immersion into Britain. They are in the Lake District at the moment, mainly boys, but there are a number of girls. As a charitable concern, the Trust should be sensitive to their plight and not press us on time to honour the bequest.' Maisie leafed through 95the documents once more, then looked at Lady Rowan. ‘I think the children will require at least a year, and I've said I will do my best to arrange education and training, and also place them with families.'

‘Gosh, how will you do that? Not everyone has the resources to take in another mouth to feed.'

‘It will be my work for however long it takes.' Maisie closed the folder and took Rowan's hand again. ‘You could live in the garden wing of the house, and the children the newer wing – after all, it has a lot of rooms.'

‘You mean I'm in the fifteen hundreds and they're in the seventeen hundreds!'

‘If we have a few boisterous youngsters, any damage will cost more to repair in the fifteen hundreds, Rowan – though I've been told they are extremely well behaved and could be trusted in the older part of the house if necessary. I think the biggest leap has been in rendering them unafraid of their very shadows, and to go on despite having lost so much. They have been living in a state of terror.'

‘We all understand that, don't we, Maisie? We've heard such horrific things about what has happened in the occupied countries – it beggars belief. And the weight that so many people have to lift every single day to endure life here in Britain has been devastating enough – really, I know I am so very fortunate, because while bombs fell in the village, none came through this roof.'

Maisie looked down at the folder, and pushed it back into the document case.

‘We'll take it one step at a time, Rowan, but I will ensure that when the Trust takes over, you will move into a wonderful house with a resplendent garden, and you will be given leave to return to Chelstone Manor whenever you wish.' 96

‘And watch people tramping all over our lawns?'

‘I'll put up "keep off the grass" signs.'

Rowan smiled. ‘As long as you're not far away, my dear.'

‘Don't worry—'

‘Oh, my goodness—'

The women were startled by the loud crash of a heavy outer door slamming, followed by the cook shouting, ‘Those gingersnaps are straight out of the oven and still hot! Young lady, it will serve you right if you get indigestion!'

‘Oh dear—' said Maisie.

‘I love it!' said Rowan. ‘Just like my James when he was a boy. Please don't reprimand her.'

‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy! Grandma Rowan! I'm here!'

Maisie's adopted daughter, Anna, rushed into the drawing room clutching three gingersnaps in her hand while holding on to her school satchel with the other. Though she was now ten years of age, she still ran into the arms of those she loved as if she were a much younger child. Anna had first come to Chelstone as an orphaned evacuee, and soon won Maisie's heart. In time Maisie took steps to formally adopt Anna, and immersed herself in motherhood. Following Maisie's marriage – which took place on the day before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour in December 1941 – she asked the family solicitor to initiate the necessary steps for Mark to become Anna's legal father. The child was thrilled with her new name, Anna Scott, and along with Maisie's father and stepmother, and her former in-laws, they had become a devoted family.

Having been instructed by Maisie to return to Mrs Horsley and apologise for taking the gingersnaps, Anna sat next to her mother to tell Lady Rowan about her day, about the new school she loved 97so much, and the friends she wanted to invite to stay. When Maisie observed that Rowan had absorbed enough of Anna's abundant energy, they said their goodbyes, Maisie taking her daughter's hand for the amble home to the Dower House.

Maisie's father and stepmother, Frankie and Brenda, were once more living at their own local bungalow, though they looked forward to a steady stroll along to the Dower House every day to see their granddaughter. Together with Anna's beloved giant Alsatian dog, Little Emma, they would be waiting to welcome daughter and granddaughter home, for they, too, considered the exuberance Anna brought into their daily round a blessing. As she walked, with Anna swinging their clasped hands back and forth, Maisie harboured a strange sense that in the exchange with Rowan something had tilted out of kilter in her world at the very moment Rowan cut her off as she was about to query what appeared to be an error of speech or memory on the part of the elderly woman. She persuaded herself that it was probably due to talk of Rowan's beloved James, the man whose death Maisie once feared she might never recover from. Yes, without doubt, that must have been the moment that unsettled Rowan. The poor woman was in the throes of grief, her mind filled with sadness, so the fact that she might experience a brief error in recollection was understandable. That was it. The past could do that to you – it could upend your day so everything felt as if it were not quite right, as if you had almost completed a difficult jigsaw puzzle, only to realise you were holding a single remaining piece and it did not fit. It was not surprising that Rowan seemed older than her years of late, her mind suffering the shock of losing a beloved husband of many decades; her heart broken anew as she lingered upon the deaths of her two children. And if Maisie were to be honest with herself, what with the 98war and now an uncomfortable peace, it would be something of a miracle if even a slender slice of life felt as if it were back on an even keel. With these thoughts, she banished her unease.

‘Mummy, what time will you be home today?'

‘I think I'll be home before you, but if not, it will be shortly afterwards. I'm picking up Uncle Billy from Paddock Wood station at half past nine, and then we've some work to do.'

‘Will Margaret Rose be coming to stay soon? I've missed her since she moved back to Eltham and started her new school.'

Maisie reached for her daughter, understanding the bond that had grown between Anna and young Margaret Rose Beale during the time the Beales lived in the village. ‘I know you have, sweetheart. I'll speak to Uncle Billy and see what Auntie Doreen says. Margaret Rose is older than you, so she has a lot more homework to do if she wants to pass her school leaving certificate – and if she wants to go on to be a librarian when she leaves school, then she must work hard.'

Anna reached for the hairbrush on the dressing table in front of her, and handed it to Maisie, along with a navy blue ribbon. ‘I don't want to be a librarian.'

Maisie plaited her daughter's hair. ‘I know – and she may change her mind. There's plenty of time.'

‘I want to be a vet,' said Anna. ‘Then I can look after horses and dogs.'

‘What about the poor cats?' said Maisie, securing her daughter's hair with the blue ribbon.

‘I'll doctor them if they're brought in, but Grandma Brenda says cats can take care of themselves.'

‘She's got a point there, Anna. Now then, your hair is at last under 99some control, so we've just enough time to have a quick breakfast and then we must get down to the bus stop.'

‘When will Daddy be home?'

‘Another week, darling. Only six nights and he'll be home.'

‘He told me I could always learn to be a vet in America if I wanted, because I have two nationalities now. He says they have some very good veterinary colleges there.'

Maisie turned her daughter around. ‘Oh he did, did he? Let's wait and see what happens in a few years. You might change your mind too.'

She shook her head. ‘No, I won't. If I was a vet, I could have saved Lady when she had colic.'

Maisie took a deep breath. Although the little white pony had been laid to rest over a year earlier, she could not forget her daughter's racking sobs as she held her close. The child's grief came to a sudden halt one morning, when Anna declared she had dreamt about Lady being all better, running around in a field of rich green grass. Now talk of Lady led to either fond recollection or a determination on Anna's part to save every horse she encountered.

‘She was getting on, darling – and Mr Fuller did everything he could,' said Maisie. ‘Now, chin up – Daddy said that next spring we can think about a new horse for you. Until then, if you want to be a vet, we'd better get you to the bus, because you don't want to miss school and fall behind. Come on, hurry up and eat your breakfast.'

Having leashed Little Emma for the walk down the lane to the bus stop, Maisie waved Anna off to school, and was about to leave Little Emma at home, when she changed her mind. ‘You can come with me today, Em,' said Maisie. She locked the house, and opened the rear door of her Alvis motor car, whereupon Little Emma – who she knew 100very well had the look of a fierce guardian, but the heart of a soft toy – jumped in and curled into her nose-to-tail sleeping position. ‘I should have found a cat to bring with me,' said Maisie, though she also thought that if push came to shove, Emma would protect her family with her life.

Government restrictions on the daily ration of precious petrol meant that Maisie had to plan with care if she wanted to retain the convenience of a motor car during an investigation, hence the plan to meet Billy at Paddock Wood station. From there they would drive to the village of Hallarden.

‘Brought the old cherry hog with you today then, miss.'

‘I haven't heard you use rhyming slang for a long time, Billy.'

He smiled. ‘My daughter told me straight that it wasn't very funny any more, so I thought I'd better not embarrass her in front of her friends.'

‘That'll pass. She's just going through a phase, you know.'

‘One of many. But she's a good girl.' He turned around to look at Emma. ‘That dog snores a lot.'

‘So would you if you were rushed off your feet by a ten-year-old with too much energy.'

‘Talking of kids with too much energy—'

‘Apparently they were from the orphanage – it's now called Hallarden Children's Home.'

‘Bit old for that, aren't they?'

‘Yes and no. They told me they thought they would be asked to leave soon, given they are old enough to go out to work, but I know any children's home has a duty of care towards their charges due to the fact that they are all orphans. I managed to take each of them aside and found out that Jim and Grace had families who were 101killed in the Blitz on London while they were evacuated. One was born out of wedlock – that's Archie – and given up. I'm not sure about Mary – she's a bit secretive.'

‘Sounds like they were all worn out with keeping their secrets, and for a start, they shouldn't have gone telling you about what they did in the war – or what they were trained to do.'

‘You're right on both counts. They can be a bit mouthy, but I think that's to bolster their resolve – in my estimation, they're really exhausted and very scared. But to be fair, I put some pressure on them.'

‘Are we going to the children's home first?'

Maisie shook her head, then pulled over into a lay-by.

‘What's up, miss?'

‘I want to know more about them, but I don't want to alert anyone to the fact that I am looking into the lives of those four specifically.'

‘Is that because someone else might be waiting for you to enquire, and you think the person in charge might run the flag up the pole and let them know you've been to see them?'

‘That's the measure of it, Billy.'

‘Who is it?'

‘MacFarlane.'

‘Blimey.' Billy took a deep breath and whistled as he exhaled. ‘Why do you reckon that?'

Maisie was thoughtful, staring out of the window for a moment. ‘I think he wants to ensure that nothing gets out about the deceased, which is one thing, but he also wants to find out how much the four youngsters know. I would say he wants to get to them before anyone else, which suggests there's another person or department looking for them. There's also the man's killer – was it a hired assassin, or 102someone closer? Plus, of course they know a fair amount about our secret wartime defences, and from what they've said, it's clear the government is in the process of destroying evidence of their existence. I knew a lot about what went on overseas, Billy – but I knew nothing about what I suppose you could term "domestic resistance".'

‘But what if the government is mothballing these secret places just in case?'

‘Of another war?'

‘Of any pushing and shoving that goes on between countries before they go to war, miss.' Billy regarded Maisie as he turned and ruffled Emma's ears; the dog was now awake, nose forward, looking from Maisie to Billy as they spoke. ‘Or MacFarlane might be trying to protect someone else.'

Maisie sighed. ‘Billy, you know your friend, the reporter? Do you think he could wangle his way in, perhaps think up a story? An angle, or whatever they call it.'

‘It's an idea. I reckon I could talk to him. Tricky though, because he'll know there's something bigger in it if I ask him to go to the children's home to talk to the superintendent. And he can't mention names, or she'll know – because let's face it, they've gone missing, though he could say he had word of that from someone he knows.' He shook his head. ‘No, on second thoughts, I reckon it's too risky.'

They were quiet for a few moments, both considering what might come next.

‘I didn't want it to come to this.'

‘I know.'

‘Billy—'

‘We're going to have to break into the home or something like that, aren't we?' 103

‘I think this is going to be one of those cases where we change our minds about the best way forward every now and again. Let's keep all possible paths open. We'll have more information later. I'm sure something will come up after we've been to the Sandstone Avenue estate – where the Nazi lived.'

Maisie parked the motor car some distance along the avenue, a broad boulevard with trees on either side of the road. She imagined that in summer, driving along the avenue would be like making your way through a verdant tunnel with shafts of dappled sunlight piercing the canopy above. She suspected the people who lived in such a place might have felt safer than most during the war, though anyone living in Kent, whether rich or poor, would have heard the bombers flying above at night to target London, the docks and the capital's grand buildings that were beloved the world over. And on the return journey to their bases in occupied France, the Luftwaffe released any remaining bombs to fall across the market towns, small villages, rural farms and isolated hamlets peppered across the Garden of England, earning Kent the nickname ‘Bomb Alley.' In truth, nowhere in Britain had been safe. Even the home of a man whom the squatters had tagged a Nazi could have been bombed. She reminded herself that it worked both ways – as anyone living in Berlin, Hamburg or Dresden knew only too well. When she had pointed out the devastation in Germany to her stepmother, Brenda's retort, hands on hips, was a curt, ‘They started the war and got behind their Mr Hitler, Maisie, so it wasn't our fault we had to fight back, was it?'

Having arrived at the property, Maisie walked towards the gate with Emma, while Billy used a pair of binoculars to scan the perimeter of 104lawns and shrubbery visible from the land boundary.

‘This gate isn't padlocked, Billy.'

‘Someone slipped up, didn't they? So, we're going in, are we?'

‘Might as well – I don't want to drive all the way home with nothing to show for my day.'

‘Got an excuse, you know, if we're apprehended?'

‘I'm an interested buyer and I heard this property was for sale. Did you see the sign outside the adjacent house? Easy mistake to make.'

‘Right you are. That's as good as any I could come up with. And no one's going to argue with you, not with Emma by your side.'

‘As long as they don't see her tail wagging.'

Opening the gate, Maisie proceeded along what would have once been termed the ‘carriage sweep' towards the house. Lady Rowan had sighed when a representative of the National Trust visited Chelstone Manor soon after Lord Julian decided that offering the manor as a bequest would be an admirable solution to the death duties problem. ‘Lovely view coming up the driveway, Your Ladyship. And not a bad walk from the station or bus stop.'

‘He called it a driveway!' Lady Rowan had complained. ‘I was about to put him right and tell him that when I came to the manor as a young bride, it was in a carriage and four, but Julian raised his eyebrow to shut me up!'

Reaching the front of the house, Billy and Maisie turned and took account of their surroundings.

‘Quiet, eh, miss?'

‘If the owner lived here alone, you would expect it. But look – the grass has been cut in the past day or two.'

‘Looks like a cricket pitch, what with the way it's been mowed with them stripes.' Billy looked up at the sky. ‘Anyway, I'm glad we 105chose a fine day – wouldn't want to be sloshing around here in the rain.'

‘Come on, let's walk to the back of the house.'

Maisie suspected that the Georgian house had been subject to some modernisation inside. The exterior was in good order. The drains were clear and working, gutters were new and the window frames appeared to have been painted in recent years, which surprised her, because builders, painters and decorators had been called up into the army. Older men in the construction trade were required to report for duty to help with the recovery of wounded during the bombings. If a house had been half destroyed, it was a builder who would know the best way to reach the dead, dying and injured without causing the other half of the property to come down or the dwellings on either side to become even more unstable. Now those same builders were either engaged in demolition, or recruited for the construction of new homes. It wasn't hard for an able-bodied returning soldier to find work.

‘Lucky old him, being able to get the place painted,' said Billy. ‘He must have had some pull in high places.'

‘My thoughts exactly,' replied Maisie.

They continued walking around the mansion, stopping to comment on this or that aspect, or the fact that they had not yet been intercepted. Having reached the rear of the property, Maisie and Billy came to an abrupt standstill.

‘Oh my, look at that.'

‘What was he, a cousin of the king or something?' asked Billy.

‘Look over there – the estate extends far into the woodland and then around the back of the other houses. It was probably the original mansion on the estate, and then land was sold off at some 106point to build other houses along the avenue.'

‘Probably to pay off debts.'

‘The properties along the avenue are all quite large, but they look as if they were built about twenty years ago.' Maisie was thoughtful. ‘I bet the heir was killed in the last war, and when his parents died, someone had to sell off the land to pay death duties.'

‘And that's one reason I'm glad I don't come from money – there's nothing in the Beale coffers for the government to take when I die,' said Billy. ‘Look over there – I feel sorry for the poor bloke who has to go up and down that there back lawn with his mower and roller. You could put a herd of cattle in there and the grass still wouldn't be kept down.'

The rear of the house comprised a wide stone terrace with statuary, steps leading down to what appeared to be a labyrinth created by the planting of low rosemary hedges, interspersed with rose bushes, and a fountain in the middle. Maisie turned and began to walk up steps towards the bank of French windows giving access to the terrace. She leant against the window, cupping a hand around her eyes to see into a reception room. Until this point, Emma had been quiet as she padded alongside her mistress, but now she whimpered.

‘Getting fed up, is she, miss?'

‘Dogs are sensitive creatures – and Alsatians more so than most. I would imagine she knows something untoward happened here.' Maisie reached down to stroke Emma's head. ‘You know, Billy, I think Archie told me a lie. He said that he was delivering the newspaper to the front door of the house, and he could see what was happening inside due to the French windows. But there aren't any at the front of the house – they're here at the back.'

‘He was having a snoop around.' 107

‘But was it an innocent curiosity? Or was he looking for something?'

Billy rubbed his chin. ‘If people had been here, there would have been motors parked at the front of the house, so perhaps he thought he'd have a gander to see who it was, especially if the cars were big and posh – you know how boys are with motor cars.'

‘And newspapers are usually delivered first thing in the morning, not in the evening when a party is in progress.'

‘We should have a special word with Archie, I think.'

‘A very special word. Anyway, Billy, let's continue on round. I'm not finished here. And I want to find that other building they described.'

Leaving the terrace, Maisie and Billy proceeded to the eastern flank of the house and along a gravel path giving access to a side entrance.

‘Look at that, miss – through those rhododendron bushes. You can see from here – I think it's a garage and a couple of sheds. Miss—'

Maisie was concentrating on the side door to the house, but looked up. ‘The squatters mentioned picking a lock on one of the sheds – but look here, Billy, this door is unlocked. It probably leads to the kitchens.'

‘Blimey. What d'you think?'

‘You hold Emma and keep watch. She might whimper a bit, but just stroke her on the head and she'll be alright. I'll go in.'

‘What shall I say if someone comes around?'

‘Explain that you and your friend were walking past the house and happened to see the "For Sale" sign, so you thought you'd take a quick look. There was no answer at the door, so you decided the owner had moved pending the property being … being available for prospective owners to look at.' 108

‘Miss, one word out of my mouth with my dyed-in-the-wool Cockney accent and they'll know that no one I'm friends with could afford this gaff.'

‘If they question it, tell them they obviously didn't see your most recent moving picture, and it's been a very lucrative time for the British in – what's that place called? Hollywood? Tell them that, and add that our money is as good as anyone else's.'

‘Yours might be, miss, but I'm not sure the story will fly.'

Maisie passed Emma's leash to Billy. ‘If push comes to shove, give it a try. I'll be about fifteen minutes.'

‘More like half an hour or more, the size of this place.'