Stan the stationmaster looked at his pocket watch and checked it against the clock above the guests’ bar in the Officers’ Club. They’d all arrived promptly at seven and now it was almost eight and still there was no sign of Ron, which was so out of character it was beginning to worry him.
‘It’s not like Ron to be late when there’s free drink to be had,’ he rumbled. ‘You don’t think something’s happened to him, do you?’
Frank and the others looked uneasily at the clock, and then down at the table loaded with empty glasses. They’d been in high spirits when they’d arrived, looking forward to giving Ron a rousing send-off, but after two rounds of drinks without him, their enthusiasm was flagging and Stan had voiced their growing concerns.
‘I’ll nip down to Beach View and see what’s keeping him,’ said Frank. ‘He’s probably fallen asleep and forgotten the time.’
‘He might have gone to the Working Men’s Club first by mistake,’ said Sergeant Bert Williams. ‘I’ll pop over and see if he’s there.’ He pulled some notes from his pocket and handed them to Alf the Butcher. ‘Get another round in, Alf. I shouldn’t be long.’
Alf got the round, but no one felt like drinking as they sat in a tense silence watching the clock and waiting for the others to come back.
‘You don’t think he’s done a bunk, do you?’ asked Bertie Double-Barrelled. ‘Chaps can get cold feet, don’t you know.’
‘He wouldn’t do that to Rosie,’ said Stan firmly.
‘He wouldn’t dare,’ Fred put in. ‘Rosie would kill him.’
‘Aye, and I wouldn’t blame her,’ muttered Chalky White. ‘But I wish I’d done a bunk before marrying my missus, and that’s a fact,’ he added gloomily before sinking half his pint.
Colonel White, Robert and John Hicks exchanged glances but said nothing, knowing that any encouragement would send Chalky off into one of his long, moaning monologues.
‘He’s not at the Working Men’s Club or the Fishermen’s,’ said Bert Williams, plumping down in a chair to catch his breath. ‘I saw Frank on my way back and there’s no sign of Ron or Harvey at home. So he’s going to the Crown to see if he’s sneaked in there for a quick half with Gloria.’
‘I doubt he’d risk that,’ said Alf. ‘Rosie would cancel the wedding and have his hide.’
‘She’d have more than that,’ said Fred with a snort. ‘I know that if my Lil caught me in there, I’d end up singing soprano for the rest of me life.’
There was a half-hearted chuckle at this before they settled into a gloomy silence, waiting for Frank to come back. As the minutes ticked away, they sipped their beer and the older amongst them began a desultory conversation about the standing down of the Home Guard, and how much more time they’d now have on their hands.
The Colonel, John Hicks and Robert discussed the war news and what they would do once it was all over, and Bertie just sat thoughtfully, ignoring his beer and watching the clock.
He let the conversations drift around him. Something was nagging at him from the back of his mind and he needed a clear head to work out what it could be. And then the talk of the Lancaster bomber coming down to explode on the old farmhouse brought a scene from the past flooding back and it suddenly dawned on him as to where Ron might be. And if he was there, then they didn’t have a minute to lose.
He was about to tell the others when he realised he could be mistaken. It was a long shot, and probably quite misguided, but it deserved some serious consideration before he spoke up. He didn’t want to send them all on a wild goose chase – and besides, he wasn’t at all convinced he could find his own way there after all this time.
But the thought kept nagging away at him, the possibility growing stronger and the dire consequences of doing nothing becoming more vivid. If he didn’t follow this up, his old pal could die. This was not the time to dither.
Unobtrusively, Bertie left the gathering and went in search of the club chairman to ask if he could use the telephone in his office to make a private long-distance call.
Peggy was feeling a bit tipsy after an hour and a half’s solid drinking, so she’d left the party to check on Daisy. Her daughter was fast asleep despite the racket coming from below, so she tucked the blanket over her shoulders, softly kissed her brow and carefully made her unsteady way back down the stairs.
‘Peggy!’ Frank hissed through the partially opened side door.
Startled, Peggy spun to look at him and nearly fell over. She grabbed the telephone table to steady herself. ‘What are you doing hiding behind that door, Frank?’ She giggled. ‘You do look silly.’
‘Is Da here?’ he hissed urgently.
‘Of course he’s not,’ she hissed back. ‘And neither should you be, Frank Reilly. You’re supposed to be at the Offishers’ Club.’ She blinked and tried to focus on him, but he seemed to be shifting about in a most confusing manner. ‘Is this some sort of daft game you men have thought up?’
He ignored her question. ‘When did you last see him, Peg?’
Something in the urgency of his tone broke through the effects of the drink, but it took a while to think straight. ‘Yesterday,’ she replied. ‘In the morning. Or it could have been teatime.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m really not sure. He comes and goes. Why do you want to know, anyway?’
‘It’s not important,’ he replied, almost dismissively. ‘Is Harvey here?’
She shook her head, still not really too concerned about this very odd conversation. ‘Is he supposed to be? Won’t that posh club let him in?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said impatiently and shut the door.
‘That’s all right then,’ she said, turning to weave her way down the narrow hall back to the bar. Frank can be very odd at times, she thought. And if it didn’t matter, then why come at all? ‘He must be drunk,’ she muttered, bumping into the coat stand and apologising to it until she realised what it was and had a fit of the giggles.
She forgot about Frank and his silly games, for the party was now in full swing, with Gloria bashing out a tune on the piano for a singalong, and Fran accompanying her on the violin.
‘Was that Frank I saw you talking to?’ asked Rosie when Peggy flopped into the chair beside her, took a good swig of wine and lit a cigarette.
‘He was looking for Ron,’ she replied.
‘Why, where’s Ron got to?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I haven’t seen him since yesterday – and Frank said it didn’t matter anyway.’ She took another sip of the lovely cold wine. ‘I bet Ron put him up to it, and they were all outside sniggering to see how their silly prank was going down.’
She took a bigger sip. ‘They’ll probably start banging on the door and running away in a minute, silly devils.’ She grinned at Rosie. ‘Honestly, Rosie, men just never grow up, do they?’
‘Yesterday?’ Rosie took the glass from Peggy’s hand and put it firmly on the table and out of her reach. ‘Didn’t he sleep at yours last night, Peggy?’
Peggy frowned. ‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted, trying very hard to sober up enough to think straight. ‘His bed was made – so that could have meant he hadn’t slept in it, I suppose. When he didn’t come home for Daisy’s birthday breakfast, I assumed he’d come over here and stayed the night.’ She gave a lopsided smile and reached to get her glass back for a refill. ‘It’s all very confusing, Rosie,’ she said, pouring more wine. ‘I never know where he’s sleeping.’
Rosie drummed her long red fingernails on the table. ‘I’m beginning to wonder that myself,’ she muttered. She leaned towards Peggy and took both the bottle and the glass from her. ‘If his bed hadn’t been slept in at yours and he wasn’t with me – then where the hell was he?’ she hissed.
‘How on earth should I know?’ Peggy protested, rather miffed that Rosie kept taking her drink away.
‘I bet there’s someone who does,’ Rosie retorted, her blue eyes shooting daggers at Gloria.
‘Oh, no, Rosie, don’t even think that,’ Peggy said sharply, grabbing her wrist to keep her in her chair. ‘He promised not to go near her again, and he would never break that promise.’
‘So where did he get to last night? Where’s he been all day – and why isn’t he with the others?’
‘You’re making too much of this,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘It’s just some stupid practical joke the men are playing to wind us up. Forget about it, and let’s get on with this lovely party.’
‘But I can’t forget it, can I?’ Rosie snatched her wrist from Peggy’s grasp, her voice louder as panic set in. ‘Not now the doubt’s been put in my head. What if Frank wasn’t joking? What if Ron really has gone missing?’
All conversation faltered into silence around them. Gloria stopped bashing the piano keys and the singing petered out at the sound of Rosie’s raised voice. Peggy was now quite sober.
‘What’s bitten your bum, Rosie?’ Gloria asked, moving away from the piano.
‘You might well ask.’ Rosie got to her feet to square up to her and Peggy quickly darted between them to avert a row.
‘Ron hasn’t been seen since yesterday, and according to Frank, he hasn’t turned up at the Officers’ Club,’ she said. ‘Now, the whole thing could be a hoax dreamed up by the men, but if not, then it’s serious.’ She took a breath. ‘I hate to ask, Gloria, but have you seen him at all?’
Gloria folded her arms. ‘And why should I? What you insinuating, Peggy Reilly?’
‘I’m insinuating nothing,’ she replied with some exasperation. ‘But if Ron and Harvey really have gone missing we need to think about where they might have gone.’
‘Well he ain’t ’iding in my pub,’ said Gloria. ‘I’d’ve given him the boot if he’d so much as put his nose round the bleedin’ door now me and Rosie are mates.’ She looked round at the other women. ’What about you lot? Anyone seen either of them today or last night?’
She was met with silence and shaking heads. Gloria slammed the lid shut on the piano and looked around at the wide-eyed gathering. ‘Well I fer one ain’t gunna sit here twiddling me thumbs, so get yer coats. We’re going out to try and find the silly old bugger.’
‘I suggest we stay here,’ said Doris firmly above the scrape of chairs and general chatter. ‘It’s no good rushing off like headless chickens when we don’t know the truth of the matter. It would be far more sensible for Rosie to telephone the Officers’ Club and ask to speak to Colonel White. He’ll tell you if it’s a prank or not.’
There was a mutter of agreement and everyone sat down again as Rosie headed straight for the telephone to ask for the number of the club. She listened and then put down the receiver with a clatter. ‘The number’s engaged,’ she said crossly.
‘Leave it a few minutes and try again,’ said April, who worked at the exchange. ‘Better still, let me talk to Vera.’ She quickly got through. ‘Hello, Vera, it’s April. We’ve got a bit of a problem here and urgently need to speak to Colonel White at the Officers’ Club. Would it be possible for you to break into the conversation going on, or at least ring us back the moment the line’s free?’ She listened, thanked her, and put down the receiver.
‘Vera’s going to ring us back. She can’t break into the conversation because it’s long distance to a classified number in London. So we’ll just have to be patient.’
‘Let’s have another drink, then,’ said Gloria, ‘and hope whoever it is on the phone ain’t got verbal diarrhoea.’
‘I don’t really want any more to drink,’ said Peggy confidentially to Rosie. ‘This has sort of put a dampener on the evening.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Rosie. ‘And if I find out it was all a prank, I will kill the lot of them.’
Frank had only just returned to the club having trawled the town for any sight of his father. It was now a quarter to nine.
‘I don’t know where else to look,’ he said after downing a pint to quench his dry throat. ‘But if he was up on the hills with Harvey and had some sort of accident, Harvey would have come back to alert us.’
‘But he’d have found no one at home,’ said Chalky. ‘We’re here and the women are at the Anchor.’
‘He’d have followed their scent there,’ said Frank stubbornly. ‘He’s a clever dog.’
‘We should get a search party together,’ said John Hicks. ‘I’ll round up some of my officers who are on duty, and take one of the fire trucks up into the hills.’
‘We’ll need torches,’ said Bert Williams. ‘It’s pitch-black up there, and we could break our necks falling into some rabbit hole. I’ll fetch them from the police station, and suggest the rest of you start searching the bomb sites around town, and all the alleyways.’
‘I’ve already done that,’ said Frank, his face drawn with worry.
‘As a military man I’ve learned that search parties need to be properly organised,’ piped up John White. ‘Otherwise people will be going off in all directions, and places will be searched twice, whilst others are overlooked. We’ll need to focus on one place at a time. Don’t you agree, Bertie?’ He looked round but Bertie wasn’t there.
‘He left shortly after Frank went down to Beach View,’ said Chalky. ‘I don’t know where he went, but he’s been gone a long time.’
‘Whatever he’s doing, he must feel it’s more important than finding Ron,’ said Stan. ‘Perhaps he knows something we don’t.’
At that precise moment, Bertie strode into the bar looking every inch the army major he’d once been. ‘I know where Ron is,’ he declared, his expression solemn.
‘How’s that then?’ Frank snapped.
Bertie stiffened to attention. ‘Need to know, old chap. Sorry, can’t say. But there’s no time to waste, because he’s in great danger.’
He ignored the questions this elicited and turned to John Hicks. ‘We’ll need your fire truck because it has a flatbed at the back, as well as digging equipment, blankets, ropes, torches, drinking water, oxygen, first-aid kit and a stretcher. As there are so many of us, you’d better bring your jeep as well.’
‘But where are we going?’ Frank asked.
‘Into the hills,’ said Bertie with the fire of a fighting man lighting his eyes. ‘I suggest you change out of those fancy shoes; there’s some rough walking to do.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s now ten to nine. We’ll meet outside here in fifteen minutes, so chop chop.’
Bert lumbered off to change his shoes at the station, Robert ran back to Beach View, and John Hicks went straight to the telephone to pass on the orders to Andy Rawlings who was in charge this evening. Chalky, John White and the others quickly finished their drinks and went to the cloakroom to fetch their coats. It was too far to get home to change their shoes, and in a crisis like this it really didn’t matter.
Bertie got the steward to supply three flasks of very hot sweet tea and they all trooped outside to wait for the fire truck, which arrived minutes later with two crewmen on board. It pulled up outside, followed by the jeep John used to get about quickly in an emergency. Bert Williams was red in the face and puffing like a steam train as he arrived a minute later wearing his sturdy policeman’s boots and carrying extra torches.
Bertie regarded the overweight and elderly man with some misgivings. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here, old chap,’ he said. ‘You’ll be no use to us if you have a heart attack.’
‘You don’t tell me what to do, you little pipsqueak,’ Bert replied gruffly and shoved past him to clamber into the jeep.
Unfazed by his rudeness, Bertie Double-Barrelled climbed up into the front seat of the fire truck. ‘Don’t ring the bells, but head for the Cliffe estate on the fastest route you know,’ he said to the driver. ‘I’ll tell you where to turn off.’
Curious faces peered from the windows of the Officers’ Club as the fire truck and jeep screeched away.
The telephone rang at the Anchor and Rosie dashed to answer it.
‘Mrs Braithwaite? Brigadier Arthur Pendleton here, Officers’ Club chairman. How may I help you?’
‘I need to speak to Colonel White very urgently,’ she replied.
‘I’m sorry, but Colonel White has just left with his guests.’
‘Left? Left for where?’
‘I’m really not terribly sure, but they went in a great hurry and were travelling in a fire truck and jeep, heading out of town.’
Rosie just managed to thank him before slamming the receiver down and grabbing her coat. ‘They’ve all gone off in a fire engine and John Hicks’s jeep,’ she announced to the gathering. ‘No one seems to know where they’re heading, but it was in a tearing hurry, so something’s up. I’m going to the club to see if I can find out anything more.’
‘Then we’ll all come with you,’ said Gloria, who’d drunk herself sober.
‘I doubt they’ll let all of us in,’ said Doris snootily. ‘One does have to be a member, you know.’
‘Yeah, I do as it ’appens,’ snapped Gloria. ‘I’ve been a member for years. And before you ask, I got it through my son what was an officer afore he was killed fighting fer his country – so put that in yer bleedin’ pipe and smoke it.’
‘All right, Glo, no need to take on so,’ soothed Ivy. ‘Let’s get going.’
‘I think we should stay here,’ said Sarah. ‘The men know where we are, and they’ll ring here the minute they have any news.’
‘Actually,’ said Peggy, ‘that’s a good idea. What do you think, Rosie?’
‘I agree,’ she replied, discarding her coat and slumping back down into a chair. ‘And I’m sure that if the people at the club hear anything, they’ll ring here.’
‘D’you want us to stay and keep yer company, Rosie?’ asked Gloria.
‘That’s very kind, but there’s little point, Glo. The party’s over, and I’m not up to being sociable any more.’
‘Fair enough. Ring me the minute you hear anything.’ Gloria stood up. ‘Come on, you lot, there’s a drink on the ’ouse at my place for those what want it.’
Doris, Pauline and the Beach View girls turned down the offer, wanting to stay with Rosie, Peggy and Cordelia. As everyone else donned their coats and scarves and said goodnight, Rita grabbed her coat, shot out the side door and ran down the road to the fire station. If John Hicks had called out a truck, then it must be serious, and as Ivy’s boyfriend, Andy, was duty officer tonight, he might have some inkling as to what was going on.
Ron’s eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and he had to force them open. He felt so very tired; exhausted in fact, but the air didn’t smell right, and it seemed to be getting humid down here.
Harvey was snoring beside him and hardly stirred as Ron struggled in vain to get his poacher’s coat off. Had the air vents become blocked? Was that black damp gas he could smell, or just the natural marsh gas and methane of an underground chamber? Either way it smelled foul.
Ron groaned. He couldn’t think straight, his head hurt and he was feeling nauseous. He’d lost all feeling in his body, and he’d remembered too late that he had a box of matches in his coat pocket, so they could have had a little light after all. But if that was gas, then lighting a match would finish them both off.
He sank his chin back to Harvey’s still paws, but there was merely an answering twitch of his whiskers and a soft grunt to acknowledge him. Ron knew then that the vents were blocked and they were slowly being gassed by something.
At least it will be a gentle death, Rosie, he thought before he fell asleep again.