CHAPTER SEVEN

‘My teacher says that next year we'll all be taking our eleven-plus exams. She said they were the exams to … to assess us, then they would know where to stream everyone in the class so we could move on and move up.' Anna sipped a cup of tea, one hand holding the cup, the other on Emma's head. ‘Did you have to take the eleven-plus, Mummy?'

Maisie set down her cup. ‘No, we had a different sort of test called the "School Certificate," which was awarded at the age of sixteen, but a lot of my schoolfriends were leaving school by the time they were twelve. I left at thirteen, but I took my exams later, when I was working. The test you're going to take is brand new. When it's done and you get your results, we will see where you might go to school next.' Maisie smiled. ‘Anna, I know you're feeding Emma crumbs from the table, but please hold your cup with both hands or you'll spill the tea. And Emma won't starve – in fact, she's getting a bit round.'

‘She likes treats,' said Anna, now clasping her cup with both hands and staring at Maisie. ‘Mummy, which school do you think I will I go to after my exam?' 127

‘Well, we have some very good choices. Daddy was right about the international school, wasn't he? You like it there, so you could stay with the friends you've made until you're sixteen, if you like.'

‘Hmmm – it is nice to have two friends who catch the same bus, and I like everyone at the school – though I was a bit sad when Alexandra and Beatrice had to move when their fathers left London to work in another country. The teachers are really nice though.'

Maisie picked up her cup and sipped the tea. ‘We can talk about it when you get your results. If you pass, you might decide to transfer to a girls' grammar school, either in Tonbridge or Tunbridge Wells. At any of those schools you could work hard and aim for university.'

Anna tapped the table with both hands, decisive about her future. ‘I'll do that, because Daddy said I will need to go to a university to be a veterinary surgeon.'

‘And there go Anna Scott's brain cells – I can see them moving around inside your head,' said Maisie, smiling as she watched her child.

‘Would I still have to take the eleven-plus if I want to be a vet in America?'

‘You have to take a lot more than the eleven-plus to go to university anywhere, my darling.' She pushed back her chair. ‘So, one step at a time – just one step at a time. And there are very good places to study to be a veterinary surgeon here, you know – there's the Royal College in London, and I believe that in Bristol they established a school of veterinary science even before they had a medical school. Anyway, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. How 128about getting on with your homework?'

Distracted by the telephone ring echoing along the hallway, Anna leapt from her chair. ‘That might be Daddy! I'll answer it!'

Maisie called out as her daughter left the kitchen and sprinted towards the study. ‘Anna, it's not Daddy, please, don't—'

Before Maisie could intervene, Anna had answered the telephone in the library and could be heard greeting the caller, ‘Oh hello, Uncle Robbie. Yes, Mummy's here – just a minute, I'll get her.'

Maisie closed her eyes, whispering under her breath. ‘Blast!'

‘It's Uncle Robbie, Mummy. Not Daddy.'

‘I know, darling. Daddy probably hasn't even arrived in Washington yet.' Maisie took the receiver from her daughter. ‘Anna, run upstairs and change out of your school uniform.' She took a deep breath.

‘Robbie, lovely to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?'

‘That daughter of yours will be sixteen before you know it, Maisie. Almost time to double the locks on the doors.'

‘Or circle the wagons, as Mark says.'

There was a beat of silence. Maisie waited.

‘Right, enough of that. You're avoiding me.'

‘Avoiding you? Not me, I wouldn't do that.'

‘Oh yes you would! You're avoiding me because you know I want some information.'

‘Robbie, if my memory serves me well, the last time we spoke, it was me coming to you on a mission for information. Is this about Will Beale?' she offered, in an effort to deflect the direction of MacFarlane's enquiry. She heard an audible sigh echo in the receiver. ‘Robbie?' 129

‘You also mentioned some squatters.'

‘Squatters? I – oh yes, I remember now. All moved on, I think. Storm in a teacup. And as far as I know, it's the same everywhere with the many homeless people – they move on until they find somewhere a little more permanent. A decommissioned army barracks, for example.'

‘Maisie?'

‘Yes?'

‘Do you know where those four children have disappeared to?'

‘I have more pressing things to consider – reuniting Billy and Doreen with Will is high on my list.'

‘You wouldn't—'

‘If any information comes my way, I'll let you know.'

‘One thing.'

‘Yes?'

‘I only want to help them, hen. I don't want to get them into more trouble, but there are bigger people than me involved.'

Maisie was quiet. Could she trust MacFarlane? Every cell in her body seemed to be screaming at her to proceed with caution. No, she would wait. Gather more information, that's what Maurice would have said. Leave no stone unturned. Make no pre-emptive moves unless your back is against the wall. Press forward with care.

‘I know, Robbie. There are always bigger people involved.'

Maisie returned to London the following day, stopping first at the Pimlico flat, where she was not at all surprised to see Mary had remained very much in charge, her three friends well under her thumb. Maisie had telephoned first, using the special code of three rings before ending the call and dialling again, placing the call to let 130her new tenants know she was on her way.

‘You've kept the flat nice and tidy – thank you.'

‘She had me cleaning the toilet this morning,' said Archie.

‘Didn't do you any harm, did it, Arch?' said Mary.

‘I swept the floors and under the chairs and Gracie went around with the duster,' said Jim.

‘And when we pulled down them blinds, we noticed the people what was here before hadn't cleaned them, so we did it,' added Mary.

‘Very nice it is too, thank you very much. Right, let's sit down and have a chat,' said Maisie.

‘I can make a pot of tea,' said Mary. ‘But we've got no milk.'

‘It's just as well I brought a bottle with me and some home-made bread along with a few other comestibles.' Maisie tapped the shopping bag she had brought with her.

‘Any more of that chocolate?' said Jim. ‘It's not as good as British chocolate, but it's still nice to have a bite.'

‘Not many people are connoisseurs like you, Jim.' Maisie raised an eyebrow and smiled at the young man. ‘If you're not too choosy, I may have some next week, but let's press on, shall we? And thank you, Mary – a cup of tea would be lovely.'

Mary tapped Gracie on the shoulder. The younger girl stood up, took the bag from Maisie and went into the kitchen.

‘I've been to the house – the one where you said you saw the owner killed, and I've some questions, especially for you, Archie.' She waited, taking note of the boy's heightened colour, and the fact that he did not look up at her. ‘Archie, you said that when you went to the house, you were about to push the newspaper through the letterbox and that's when you saw the party full of 131Nazis through the French doors. Is that right?'

The boy blushed even deeper, giving a half-nod. Jim looked away, while Mary came to her feet, announcing that she would give Gracie a hand in the kitchen.

‘Sit down, Mary,' said Maisie. ‘Here's Gracie now.'

The youngest member of the group handed her the cup of tea, and was about to return to the kitchen, when Maisie instructed her to join her friends.

‘Archie.' Maisie took a sip of her tea, extending the boy's discomfort with a pause as she set the cup in the saucer and rested it on a table beside her chair. Taking an audible deep breath, she went on. ‘Could you explain something to me? What made you tell me a lie? Because not only are the French doors at the back of the house, but there is no letterbox on the door. Plus you don't deliver newspapers at night, do you? I believe the postman leaves the accrued mail in a metal container attached to the trunk of that large oak tree just inside the gate. Oh, and as you probably know, there is a sign on the gate clearly stating "No Hawkers, No Circulars. No solicitors." – which means the owner does not want anyone calling at the house to sell, to bring unwanted advertising mail or to solicit business. You said you were delivering newspapers ordered by the owner of the property – but as a rule you would leave the papers in the metal box. True?'

Archie looked away.

‘I'll take that as a "yes".' She allowed an uncomfortable silence to go on for a few seconds before she spoke again. ‘I'd love to know what made you lie.'

Maisie had been careful with the framing of her question. So many years before, during her apprenticeship, Maurice had counselled her 132to take care with ‘why' questions: The person you are questioning might be able to use a ‘why' to lead you into a long tunnel of reflection, personal stories and conjecture. ‘What' is simple. It ends the tunnel before the person you are questioning can run away with words. It demands a clear answer, though of course a clever suspect will always endeavour to wriggle free of a verbal noose.

‘Archie? I trusted you and you lied, so I'd appreciate an explanation.'

All four faces before her were now blushing.

‘What he said was—' offered Jim.

‘Let Archie speak, if you don't mind.'

‘I lied because I didn't want to tell you why I went in the first place. Mind you, I am the paperboy for that street – and about ten other streets in the town – so I keep an eye on things. Well, I was the paperboy. I won't get my job back now.'

‘What took you to the house at that point?'

‘Sergeant Kirby wanted the information. He wanted me to go to the house on that day at that time.'

‘What made him choose you?'

‘He's a sneaky little whatsit, that's why,' said Mary.

‘So, Sergeant Kirby chose you because you're good at hiding in the shadows and can get in and get out.'

‘I reckon so.'

‘Then what inspired you all to return – in fact, did you all return?'

‘He asked us,' said Mary. ‘Sergeant Kirby. And we was all to go together, so one of us was to wait near the gate to give a warning of anyone coming. That was Gracie – she was supposed to stay and keep her eyes peeled. I'm the leader, and Jim was there to pick the locks.' 133

‘Pick the locks?'

‘Sergeant Kirby wanted to find out about the shed with the paraphernalia in it.'

‘And how did you know there was even a shed with "paraphernalia" in it?'

Archie said nothing, but looked at each of his friends in turn.

‘Just tell her everything,' said Mary. ‘Our goose is cooked anyway, for talking about all of this to anyone. We might as well let her know, seeing as we're all going to end up in the clink.'

Archie stared at the older girl and rolled his eyes, before turning his head as he sighed and looked at Maisie. ‘Alright then. I'd had a look around before, one time when there was no one about. It was easy to see into that big garage and the gardener's shed. This other shed had no windows, but I had a feeling light was getting in somehow, 'cause light was all I could see in a crack where the doors met. So, I climbed a tree and got onto the roof and there were a couple of them skylight things. So, I stared down and I could see some of them swastika flags. I heard someone coming, so I had to get out of there sharpish – slid off the roof, went through them rhododendron bushes, over the wall and I was away, legging it down the road. I told Sergeant Kirby, and he said he wanted more details, so off we all went again to try to get in there. And you already know the rest, about when we broke in.'

‘One thing I still don't know though – who is this Sergeant Kirby?'

Maisie waited as the quartet exchanged glances, with a nudge between Mary and Jim. Once again she wondered how she could have failed to take account of their clothing – yes, she would have been able to compile a list of what each of the four was wearing, but now she noted the poor state of repair and age of the garments. 134The girls had been wearing faded coats over pleated uniform skirts of summer-weight cloth frayed at the hem. Their socks fell down for want of fresh elastic, and their scuffed footwear was doubtless donated to the children's home in years past. The shoes worn by the girls had once been heeled footwear for women, but someone had sheared off an inch or two from the heels. Jim was dressed no better than Archie; however, at least Archie, who was smaller, had clothing that made it seem as if he had simply experienced a growth spurt. The lanky Jim wore a man's trousers that were far too big for him and cinched at the waist with string, and he had rolled up each long trouser leg to a point where his ankles were visible. His jacket, again too large, was threadbare at the elbows, which he wore over a pullover atop a grey shirt. She had already noticed that his shoes were too big, causing him to shuffle as he walked.

‘Come on, who is Sergeant Kirby?'

Mary shrugged. ‘We don't really know. He was just the man who came to the home to recruit us – that's what he said, that we were being "recruited" to serve our country when the Germans invaded, to save us all from the Hun. And he was one of the ones who trained us.'

‘He used the word "Hun"?' asked Maisie. ‘Then would you say he was about fifty or sixty years of age?'

‘He was old, definitely old,' Gracie piped up, as she removed a hairgrip and repositioned it to one side in an effort to keep a wayward fringe out of her eyes. Maisie was reminded that each of the four would benefit from a visit to a hairdresser, or for the boys a good barber.

‘And he was something to do with a place called "the Garth,"' said Jim. ‘It's a place where the people who trained us go to, in Kent. What they called the "HQ".' 135

‘Hmmm, interesting,' said Maisie, aware that the youngsters seemed as if they were not quite so braced against the world around them. They had settled into telling their story as if they were shedding worn skin, though she knew there was still fear – and a deep discomfort – attached to their situation.

‘You won't tell anyone we told you all this. They said to us that we'd be goners if we even whispered a word to anyone else,' said Jim, again seeking reassurance from Maisie. ‘And we wanted to do a good job. We thought that if we did well, we'd be set up, you know, that someone would take us in. Blimmin' rotten, being grown-up and in that home.'

‘I'm sure it is, Jim.' Maisie gave a knowing smile, holding Jim's fierce gaze for just a second longer until he softened. Returning the cup and saucer to the side table, she steepled her hands, resting her lips against her fingertips. She had to think. She had been given more information yet nothing much in the way of threads to attach one loose detail to the other. Were these orphans really in trouble? Might a crime have been covered up, perhaps allowing time for the perpetrator to get away before the police apprehended him? And did they really see a man killed? Could the dusky end-of-day light have altered their perception? No, there were four of them and all agreed upon what they had seen and the shots heard, though she conceded that it could be a case of one believing they had witnessed something and the others viewing the event through their eyes and ears, as if they had observed the same thing. Maisie knew such phenomena had been investigated in the past, and often among people who were close and joined by a shared life-altering experience. She sighed and sat back.

Whatever the situation, MacFarlane wanted to know where they 136were, and indicated he wasn't the only one. Would Robbie be a danger to the youthful resistance unit? She had to decide, and soon. In the interim, she knew it was only a matter of time before he discovered their whereabouts.

‘What are we going to do?' asked Mary.

‘You're going to be moving, but not today. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I will come for you later in the afternoon, around four, so you will have to behave yourselves and remain very quiet until then. Can you do that?'

‘Yes, we can,' said Mary. ‘But where will we go?'

‘To the home of a dear friend of mine.' Maisie smiled. ‘She's very forthright and a bit bossy, but has a heart of gold and you'll like her. The man you looked after at Ebury Place is staying with her and her husband at the moment, but he's leaving to go home tomorrow.'

‘Will we have things to do?' asked Gracie.

‘Oh, of that I have no doubt. Don't imagine you will be sitting still for a moment. In the meantime – Mary, have you ever done any needlework?'

‘That's one of the things they taught us girls – how to sew, so we could be good maids or seamstresses. No one ever asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up.'

‘I want to race motor cars,' said Archie.

‘Yeah, getaway driver, knowing you,' said Jim, nudging his friend.

‘There's something you can all think about – what you want to be when you grow up, seeing as you're almost there. Now, getting back to business, if you don't mind. Mary, I'll find a tape measure – there's one in the kitchen, I think – because I want you and your friends measured so I can get you fresh clothing to wear, something more suited to the season.' 137

‘We've kept ourselves clean, you know,' said Mary.

‘I know, but your clothing needs some … let's say a little "freshening up". I should check on the food supplies in the kitchen and I'll help Mary with the measuring, then I must leave you until tomorrow.'

‘There's been a development,' said Priscilla, as she greeted Maisie upon her arrival at the Partridges' Holland Park mansion, which was only a short distance from Maisie's flat on the same street, though she would not remain overnight at her London home.

‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous. What's going on?' asked Maisie as Priscilla led her to the small sitting room overlooking the garden at the back of the house. Maisie knew it was her friend's preferred place to linger later in the day, often with a book and without fail a pre-dinner gin and tonic. Before conversion to three flats, Maisie's neighbouring London bolt-hole had once been the ground-floor rooms of a house of similar vintage and architecture, so Priscilla's sitting room felt familiar to her. There was another reason Maisie loved Priscilla's house. It was once the home where her first love, Simon, had grown up. Priscilla and Simon were old family friends, so Priscilla had introduced Simon at a party she insisted Maisie attend. All too soon the three friends were at war – Priscilla and Maisie having given up their studies at Girton College, Cambridge to serve in France; Priscilla as an ambulance driver with the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, and Maisie as a nurse. Fate brought Maisie and Simon – an army doctor – together at the casualty clearing station where they were stationed, and both were wounded during enemy shelling. While Maisie's wounds healed and the scars began to fade in time, Simon was plunged into the world of those whose 138minds had been ravaged by injury. He died years later, having never recovered from a vegetative state. Maisie thought of these things as she sat down at one end of the sofa, and Priscilla took the other.

‘We were all so young, weren't we?' said Maisie.

‘I could see what you were thinking the minute you stepped into this room.' Priscilla came to her feet and walked towards the drinks trolley set in the corner of the room. ‘The sun must be over the yardarm somewhere in the world, so I'm having a mild G and T. Shall I wave the bottle over the top of a glass of tonic for you, so just a few fumes get in there? You look like you could do with it.'

‘I'd prefer a cup of tea, Pris, if you don't mind.'

‘I'll ring for Mrs R to bring us a pot. I'm having the real drink.'

‘What's the development?'

‘Will has a visitor.'

‘Billy?'

Priscilla sat down, raised her glass and sipped. ‘No, his brother.'

‘Bobby? How did he know Will was here?'

‘Through Tom, of course. Tarquin came home from the agricultural college yesterday – completely unexpected visit, he trudged half the Cotswolds into the drawing room on the bottom of his Wellington-booted feet. Tom telephoned the house, Tarquin spoke to him, mentioned that Will was here, and lo and behold, it transpires Tom is now based at the same aerodrome as Bobby Beale, and the next thing you know, Bobby applied for immediate twenty-four-hour compassionate leave and made straight for London.' She took another sip. ‘I think they're both being demobilised from the RAF at the same time.'

‘I should tell you, Billy isn't best pleased about Tom impressing 139Bobby with tales of the wonderful life he could enjoy in America, extolling the virtues of aviation opportunities over there.'

‘Works both ways – I love my future daughter-in-law, but I cannot forget who introduced my firstborn to a gorgeous American nurse.'

Maisie looked around the familiar room and smiled. ‘Funny, isn't it? How it all comes around. If I hadn't been introduced to Simon at the party you dragged me off to, I would never have met his American surgeon friend in Le Havre, and if I hadn't known the American surgeon friend, his daughter would never have been in contact years later when she came to London with the American Army Nurse Corps. And if I had not invited her to lunch, she would never have met—'

‘Don't they call that the "web of life," or something like that?' said Priscilla. ‘Or there was always Shakespeare, you know, that speech in As You Like It. "All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players."'She shook her head. ‘As you like it? I think sometimes it's a case of "as we just make the best of it". Anyway, the two brothers are upstairs, having not seen one another for five years. I've walked past the door, and all I hear is the low rumble of male voices dancing around the elephant in the room.'

‘Their father?'

Priscilla nodded, and sipped again, looking up when there was a knock at the door and the housekeeper entered with a tea tray.

‘Oh, Mrs R, thank you. Mrs Scott is gasping for a cup of tea, and I think I will have one too now.'

Maisie smiled as the housekeeper raised an eyebrow and set the tray on the low table in front of the sofa.

‘The young men are still talking upstairs. I took them tea about 140twenty minutes ago, and happened to hear the airman tell his brother that he had to be leaving soon.'

‘I'll have a sip of my tea and go up,' said Maisie.

Maisie gave a light two knocks on the door of Will's room, which was answered by Bobby.

‘Hello, Miss Dobbs – oh dear, sorry – Mrs Scott. Bet I'm not the only one to keep making that mistake!' He held out his hand. ‘I hope you don't mind, but as soon as I heard Will was here, I had to come. He's my big brother.'

‘Not so big at the moment, Bobby,' said Will, who was seated in an armchair, a blanket across his knees. A fire was lit in the grate, warming the room.

‘Of course I don't mind, Bobby.' Maisie stepped into the room. ‘And, Will, it won't be long before you are back to your fighting weight. You look so much better already – and I could swear you've put on a pound or two.'

Will Beale smiled. ‘It's that Mrs R. She scares me more than the Japs, the way she looks at me if I can't manage all her custard, or another one of her soups. "Long-simmer bone broth, that's the ticket, young man". She says it every time.'

Maisie smiled, glad to see Billy's son in better spirits.

‘Here, you'll never guess what,' said Will. ‘My little brother is an officer now. What do they call you, Bob? Second officer or something like that. I bet Mum and Dad will be made up when they hear the news. A Beale becoming an officer!'

Bobby Beale shrugged. ‘Nah, nothing to get excited about, it's just because of me being a flight engineer. They said I was good enough for the job but as a rule it's an officer sort of level, so they 141ended up making me an officer. I don't reckon it means much, not when I'll be leaving at the end of the year anyway.'

‘I wouldn't tell Dad you're leaving, not if I were you,' said Will.

‘He already knows, mate.' Bobby Beale walked towards his brother, leant down and put his arms around him. ‘Sod the shaking hands lark – we ain't too big for this, are we, Will?' He turned to Maisie, pushing his peaked cap under his arm to carry it downstairs. ‘Lovely to see you, Mrs Scott. Thank you for looking after our Will.'

As the newly minted RAF officer left the room, Maisie pulled a chair to sit next to Will Beale, who wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, a mannerism that seemed inherited from his father.

‘Not right, is it? Me being the eldest and not getting anywhere. But our Bobby – he's back on his feet and he's on his way. And he had some terrible things go on too. Didn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. I can tell. He's my brother.'

‘Will, as soon as you're on your feet, you watch, you'll be blazing a trail too. You come from a family of fighters – you'll be a winner, mark my words.'

‘You know what I'd like …' said Will, sighing as if it were an unachievable dream. ‘I'd like to run a little ironmonger's, the sort of shop people come into and say, "I'd like the thingummy that you put on top of the whatsit that goes under the sink and … I can't remember what you call it." And straightaway, I'd lead them to a big stack of drawers, pick the right one, take out a little screw and say, "Is this what you were looking for, sir?" That's what I'd like, being in a place where I could help people all day.'

‘If you keep imagining the details, Will, I'm sure you will make that dream come true.' Maisie reached for his hand. ‘But what about 142your mum and dad? Ready to see them tomorrow afternoon? Ready to go home?'

‘I feel safe here.'

‘I know you do. No rush, absolutely no rush. But give it a chance.'

‘I didn't always feel safe at home, growing up. I thought about it a lot on the boat, trying to remember how I felt, what I wanted to say but never could. I always pretended to feel as if everything was alright, you know, for Bobby and Lizzie. Dad did his best, but I … Well, better not speak out of turn.'

‘You can tell me, Will. I won't tell your parents.'

Will Beale shrugged. ‘I just never knew when he would crumble. I mean, he always picked himself up, but it was as if this big grey cloud was coming for him and he'd go off, you know, to get himself out of the house and I knew it was so he didn't upset us.' He shook his head. ‘I'd be in bed and I'd hear him, leaving the house and going for a walk in the dark of night. He'd be out for hours, and I'd lie there, eyes wide open, trying not to wake Bobby, but I couldn't sleep until I heard his footsteps coming down the street again – and I'd always hear him, what with his limp. "Dot and carry one," he used to say. "That's me, dot and carry one, dragging that dodgy leg behind me." And the next morning, there he was, ready for work as if nothing was going on, but I could see his eyes were red, swollen, like he'd been weeping.' He shook his head again. ‘I think I understand now, and I've been thinking about it a lot since I came here. I don't know how he was the good dad that he was, how he made us laugh and how he played with us. Truth be told, I don't want to bring him down with what I am now.'

Maisie held on to his hand. ‘You're a very brave man. You've got 143your father's fortitude, and his love for your family. And I swear you have your father's sense of right and wrong, and if you're really lucky, his sense of humour. You have your mother's grit too, and that will take you a long way.'

‘I'm looking forward to seeing them – you know, scared, but looking forward.' He sat up straighter in the chair. ‘Yes, I reckon I can do what he did and just get on with it.' He smiled. ‘I heard that a lot when I was on the ship coming back here – and in that place where they gave me my demob suit. Seems everyone's got it in their heads that the only thing we can do is get on with it, and it's what people say to keep themselves going. "Just get on with it." Trouble is, I reckon "it" covers a lot of things that are wearing people down.'

‘Time, Will. Time is the great healer – I've said that before.' She sat back and regarded the young man before her. Was he ready to talk more? Too tired? She would take a chance.

‘Will, do you feel up to answering a few questions, now that you've had a little rest?'

‘About the war?'

Maisie shook her head. ‘No, about the squatters who took care of you at Ebury Place.'

‘Little tykes, though you can't help but admire them. What about them?'

‘I know you were sleeping a lot, but you said there were times you were just lying there with your eyes closed. Did you ever hear them talking about someone called Sergeant Kirby?'

Will frowned, looking at Maisie. ‘I don't remember that exactly, but I remember "the sarge" and "old Kirby". I don't remember what they said, not to the letter, but I will say this – I reckon they 144were scared of him. I know that voice, because I heard men scared when I was in the camp. People laugh a lot, crack jokes, or they cry alone but you can hear them. Yes, I think they were frightened – or, what's the word? There's a word for it … you know, when someone has a sort of power over you.'

‘Intimidated?'

‘That's the one. And I remember wondering about it when I heard them talk about him, about how he helped them get away, and how this other bloke helped them.'

‘His name?'

‘Well, there was two. A Mr Blacker, and a Mr Compton.' He laughed. ‘Funny that, the second bloke having the same name as old Lord Julian, and … Blimey, do you think—?'

Maisie was silent for a moment. ‘Will, keep that to yourself, if you don't mind. Just for now. I'm trying to help them, but there's a few lines of enquiry to follow.'

‘I'm good at keeping secrets. How do you think I managed to get home? Didn't always keep my head down, but I was good at keeping secrets, even when the Japs tried to beat them out of me.'

Maisie came to her feet. ‘Eat your egg custard, Will. Get some good rest. Your mum and dad will be here early tomorrow afternoon.' She took his hand again. ‘Truly, they cannot wait to see you.'

Will squeezed her hand in return.

‘Everything tickety-boo?' said Priscilla, waiting at the foot of the winding staircase.

‘I think seeing Bobby did Will the power of good.'

‘Time for a drink before you go?' 145

Maisie shook her head. ‘I must get home. Brenda is holding the fort with Anna until I'm there.'

‘You're having to go back and forth a lot, aren't you? Why not stay overnight at the flat?'

‘Not while Mark is away. And anyway, there are people who commute every single day, and this won't be for long.'

‘Right you are. Anything else I should know before my next four young guests arrive?'

‘They've not endured anything on a scale of Will's experiences, but all the same – they're scared. Very scared.'

‘I can deal with "scared" any day of the week,' said Priscilla. ‘I've had practice.'

Maisie kissed Priscilla on the cheek and felt the arms of her dearest friend around her. ‘I know you have, Pris.'

There was much to consider as Maisie travelled by taxi to Charing Cross station for the train back to Chelstone. The fact that a Mr Compton was named did not come as a surprise, but Mr Blacker was something of a shock, for George Blacker was the Comptons' chauffeur, a mild-mannered man she had known for many a year.