Once more Elinor travelled by train to London. She could not take the Riley, because she would need her petrol and mileage allowance to collect Jim, Rose and Susie and bring them home to Shacklehurst on the morrow. She felt no anxiety during the journey, though she would admit to something of a headache.
A desk sergeant on duty recognised Elinor as she entered Scotland Yard, touching a finger to his helmet as he greeted her. ‘Morning, madam. Lovely day, isn’t it? I don’t think you’re in luck today. DCI Warren’s out on a call.’
‘Not to worry. Nothing urgent anyway – but is it alright if I go up? I just want a quick word with Val.’
The policeman frowned, but acquiesced, allowing Elinor to continue on her way to the offices where DCI Stephen Warren and his crew were situated.
‘Good morning, Val. How are you?’
‘Morning to you, Miss White. They’re all out at the moment, but I just had DCI Warren on the blower – he’s on his way back in, but not staying long when he gets here.’
‘I’ll wait in his office.’
‘He might be a little while – you never know with traffic. Would you like a cuppa?’
‘Love one – thank you, Val.’
‘I could do with another too.’
‘Something up?’
‘I’ll say.’
‘What is it?’
‘Big job been pulled off – I don’t have the details yet. Anyway, you go in, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’
Elinor sipped the tea – thankfully hot and not too strong – and waited. She was seated on Warren’s chair behind his desk, and after Val left her and closed the door, she slipped the Welrod pistol from her handbag and set it on the desk in front of her. It had been the agents’ weapon of choice, known for being almost silent when discharged. She was deep in thought, holding her teacup and looking at the gun, when the door opened.
‘Linni, look, I haven’t the time—’ Warren stared at the pistol.
‘Sit down, Steve. Make yourself comfortable.’
‘What the—’
‘Just sit down, would you?’
Warren pulled back the chair and slumped into it, loosening his tie. ‘I don’t know what this is about, Linni, but I am not in the mood—’
‘Neither am I, Steve, so I will get straight to the point.’ She lifted the pistol and pointed it at him, her right forefinger flanking the barrel. ‘Oh dear, now I’ve said that, I find myself unable to pinpoint exactly where I should start, but let me just dig in. A visitor to my house yesterday admonished a young man we both know for starting a story in the middle and working both ways at once. I now think that might be my best bet. Oh, it was a very interesting story, by the way. The young man sends his regards, though I will say, he looks a good deal older than when we knew him. The past three years haven’t been kind to his nerves, but he’s doing well for himself. Do you remember him? He’s back to his real name now, though to us I suppose he will always be Blaz.’
Elinor smiled, watching any remaining colour drain from Steve Warren’s face.
‘Hmmm, thought you’d remember. Nice lad. Absolutely brilliant radio operator.’ She waved the pistol as if using it as a prop to emphasise her words. ‘You know, he’s even better with this sort of – what would you call it? “Sound” business? Oops, double meaning there. A sound business in the sound business!’ Her laugh was deliberate, shallow. ‘Anyway, I know he has a very special recording of the whole story – you know, the tale of what really happened in September 1944. In that unimportant little Belgian village.’
‘Look, Linni, I can explain.’
‘No, Steve, you can’t. There is nothing you can do to justify the killing of a child. There is nothing you can do to explain why you allowed me to think I had fired my gun at a five-year-old and taken her life. You told me I had to do what I had to do, and then you did it – you killed little Anique. You killed her, and you didn’t have the guts to admit it.’
‘Don’t you think I’m haunted too?’
‘And we ended up smack in the middle of the real fight we had set up to happen a few miles along the coast, because you and your bloody “Falcon” friend had other plans and brought them right to our door. You were the inside plant for another government intelligence service run by your old school chum. You undermined the SOE, with terrible consequences.’
‘I—’
‘Oh, shut up. Nothing can ever put this right. I don’t care if your old mate in Whitehall and his lot had a better plan than the one in motion – or should I say, the one that I and the others thought was in motion. And I don’t care if he did his sums, and all those men and women who trusted us and put their lives at risk because they loved their country were just … what? A statistic? A casualty number? None of it makes sense, because you are a liar, a coward, a Judas and a murderer.’
She pointed the pistol at him.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘You’re right. I wouldn’t. Not here, not now and probably not ever – mind you, I might change my mind, and we both know you won’t hear me coming. I want you to know that I can and will dare when I want, and I’m enjoying the look on your face.’ She rested the Welrod on the desk in front of her, stroking the barrel with her hand. ‘When you get home, Steve, stick your finger in an electrical socket and imagine what that feels like when the current runs into your head. They had no need to do it to me in that so-called convalescent home, and you were aware it was going on. I knew then that it was a warning, and I know even more now. You came to see me there, and just once more later to tell me about your bloody promotion. Did you think the treatment would eradicate all memories of what happened? Eh? Did you think I’d forget? I hate you, Steve. I hate the very ground you walk on.’
‘Linni, please, don’t say—’
Elinor moved the gun to her lap as Bob Mills knocked and entered. ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, and Miss White. Sir – there’s more coming in. It’s a bigger one than we thought, and we don’t know who the heck is behind it.’
‘Alright, Bob. I’m coming.’
‘Charlie’s waiting down at the front in the Humber. Bye, Miss White. Nice to see you.’ Mills left and closed the door.
‘You’d better go, Steve. I won’t lay eyes on you again – but I should let you know that our friend Blaz was in touch with his mate, you know, the one with the new-fangled recording machine. It turned out to be a very promising connection. I know you know about that machine – now, what did they call it? A tape recorder? Anyway, something like that. It was quite amazing, because I was able to record my whole story, just like Blaz. Beginning to end. Heaven knows how I’d be able to play it back, though I am sure someone would help me, in a push – someone like John Mackie.’ Elinor paused, lifting the Welrod and tapping it on the desk as if to emphasise her point. ‘Oh, and by the way, I didn’t know you and Mr Mackie were so pally, in touch all the time, and with that friend of yours. Peregrine Gordon-Williams. Falcon. It’s been one surprise after another.’
Warren scraped back his chair and stood by the door. ‘Linni, all that mattered to me was getting you out of Belgium alive. Getting you home. You were all that mattered – to me.’ He turned away and left the office.
Elinor remained still, staring at the closed door, until she took a deep breath and secured the Welrod in her shoulder bag.
They all seemed in a bit of a rush there, Val.’ Elinor had left the office, and was pulling on a pair of leather gloves as she chatted with the secretary. ‘Looked like ‘all hands on deck’— so what is it? A bank job?’
Val widened her eyes. ‘A bank? No—’ She leant forward, ready to share a confidence, though there was no one remaining in the office. ‘There’s more to it than one bank. It all started first thing this morning, and it was fast.’
‘What was fast? You’re stringing it out, Val – I’m curious.’
‘Well, the first we heard was that a bank had been held up in Sutton. Then another in Dorking, one more in Reigate, one in – where was it? Yes, Brighton, and then Eastbourne. The boys were just starting to move when a call came in about post offices, one after the other. Boom-boom-boom. Then the jewellers started calling in. And now it’s the shops – the big ones. Liberty, Dickins and Jones, Fenwick, Harrods, Harvey Nichols, and—’
‘Five big shops? Five banks?’
Val nodded, but held up one finger as she answered the telephone when it started to ring. She made notes, nodding as if the caller could see her, and then said, ‘Thank you very much – I’ll let him know as soon as I can.’ She looked up at Elinor. ‘Well, blow me down.’
‘Val?’
‘We’re up to five post offices.’
‘Do they know who yet?’
She shook her head. ‘The word on the street is that all the usuals are spoken for. Everyone’s mystified. Looks like a completely new lot – they’re already calling them the ‘Gang of Five’ – though there must be at least ten of them! But you know the funny thing?’
‘What’s that?’
Val laughed. ‘I’m starting my new job at the BBC on Monday, so now I come to think about it, I don’t care about telling you – but there are reports that it’s all women. Even though they’re dressed like men, witnesses have said they’re a bit spry, light on their feet. Like women.’
‘Anyone hurt?’
She shook her head. ‘No one – and that makes a change.’
‘I look forward to reading about it in the evening papers. Good luck with the new job, Val.’
Elinor did not smile as she departed Scotland Yard, though as she walked across the street to avoid activity outside, she could not help but whisper, ‘No one’s under-esteemating you now, Elsie.’ She had no doubt that within hours Elsie Finch, née Mackie, would be in a Portuguese village or the French Riviera, perhaps Spain or even farther afield, raising a glass of champagne with her coterie of helpers, all young women who wanted something London wasn’t offering. It wasn’t the way she would have gone about getting even, but at least no one had died – which was more than she could say for her own work.
On the train home to Shacklehurst, Elinor felt a new fatigue envelop her. She had fought two wars and many skirmishes in between. Perhaps it was time to consider what might come next, though there was still one more person she wanted to call to account – if nothing else, for her own peace of mind. It would be an easy enough journey, as the destination was not too far from Burwash, where she would collect Jim, Rose and Susie from Sophie’s house. She stopped at the telephone kiosk when she arrived in the village, where she placed a call to Sophie, asking her to let Jim know she would see them at noon the following day.
Glancing down at the address one more time, Elinor found the small fifteenth-century cottage on a narrow thoroughfare flanked by a mishmash of other dwellings from the fourteenth to nineteenth centuries. There was a pub on the corner, and if she had walked farther along towards the High Street, she would have passed two tea shops, four more pubs, a butcher, a baker and, thought Elinor, if the children’s rhyme was anything to go by, probably a candlestick maker. She parked the motor car not far away from the neighbouring Battle Abbey, named for the famous battle that had brought Norman invaders to England’s shores, and close to a footpath that would take ramblers across a patchwork of farmland, forest and fields. It was a nice town, she thought; cosy, with enough visitors by train, bus or motor coach to distract attention from any locals who valued their privacy. She knocked on the door and waited.
‘Coming!’ a voice called out from inside the home.
Elinor heard footsteps approaching the door and two bolts being pulled back. ‘Linni!’
‘Don’t look so surprised, Clare – I daresay you were expecting me. Oh, and you can put down the pistol in your other hand. I’m not armed.’
‘Nor should you be. Come in – your timing’s good, the kettle’s just boiled.’
Elinor followed Clare Fields – the woman she had once known as Isabelle – into the kitchen, where she sat down at the table.
‘Lovely house, Clare.’
‘Usual thing – only costs me a peppercorn rent until the day I die, thanks to the Crown.’
‘I might have guessed you’d end up in a town named Battle.’
‘Yes, it is quite a lark. By the way, I’m brewing coffee. I am so sick of tea this and tea that.’ Fields seated herself opposite Elinor and poured strong black coffee. ‘They say a nice cup of tea pulled us through everything from the Boer War to the Blitz, but all I can taste now is weak and insipid Darjeeling-flavoured hot water.’ She pushed a cup towards Elinor. ‘Though of course, there were those times with your mother and sister, in the first war, all sitting round the table. Another terrible time when I drank tea that tasted like dishwater in so many kitchens. Probably why I think of tea as the devil’s brew.’
‘The Great War was a lifetime ago.’
Fields stared at Elinor. ‘Funny, isn’t it? You and I seem almost of a similar age now, though you’ve kept your features more than I have. I was only twenty-four when I first came to your house – about ten years older than you when I took you to the border.’
‘I’m not here to talk about how well either you or I have aged. Can we discuss what happened in 1944? What did you know, Clare? Be honest, could you have warned me?’
Fields shook her head. ‘Linni – I warned you as much as I could. I told you I didn’t trust him, but I wasn’t quite sure of myself. I explained how the SOE was viewed by other intelligence departments. They hated us, hated Churchill’s support of us, and more than anything they detested the fact that we brought in skilled operatives wherever we could find them – even among the lower classes. That’s what they called some of our people. Lower classes. Blaz was a case in point – a real Cockney lad from south of the river, but he knew his stuff; he had a solid fist for the codes, and we needed that kind of innate understanding. We didn’t want to restrict ourselves to boys from upper-class families who thought they had an in by dint of their name, or were beholden to the old school tie.’ She gave a long exhale and stared at Elinor. ‘There was another reason I wanted you to keep a personal distance from Warren. It wouldn’t have lasted, and – and he was in love with you, Linni. In truth, he still burns a torch for you. I knew I could trust you not to do anything stupid – beyond sharing his bed – but I couldn’t trust him.’
‘I doubt …’ Elinor faltered. ‘Yes, you’re right. You could trust me, Clare. But … but did you know what was happening? Did you know about the last-minute change of plans?’
Fields shook her head. ‘No, and by the time I found out, we were on the back foot. I had the hospital ship diverted at great expense and risk.’
‘Expense – how?’
‘I was sent lower down the pecking order. A few rungs, in fact, where there was less chance of me poking my nose into places where the boys didn’t want it.’ She shrugged. ‘Affected my pension too.’
‘Did you know what was happening to me?’
‘I hit a brick wall called Peregrine Gordon-Williams.’
‘But you knew about Anique, the little girl?’
Fields stared at Elinor. ‘In time I heard rumours. Reports implicating Warren came back to me, but as far as we knew, a local child was killed by a German sniper.’
‘You could have told me. I thought I’d killed her. You knew where to find me, just as I knew where to find you here. You owed it to me.’
Fields sighed. ‘Owed? Oh, Linni. Owed-owed-owed. How we use that word – I owe you, you owe me. I asked people to do things, and they did them, but I don’t ever remember forcing anyone to do anything. I might have come back a few times to that school to see if you’d change your mind about joining us at the SOE, but I never put you in shackles. Yes, your country owed you a debt of gratitude for wartime service that put you in danger – but tell that to the ATS girls who died at their posts while ‘manning’ ack-ack batteries. Tell that to the women blown up making bombs in munitions factories, or the other women who died doing exactly what you did, only they were caught and sent to Ravensbrück. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t be able to imagine what happened to them.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie, to just let everything go. And there was another reason.’
‘It had better be a good one.’
Fields slammed her right hand down onto the wooden table, glaring at Elinor. ‘I was bloody tired too, Linni. Is that good enough for you? I was doing my best, and it wasn’t always right, and I did it over two wars with everything in the middle – during which time I was in Berlin and Munich, and that wasn’t a picnic either. So I was tired then, and I am tired now. I will probably still be tired in ten years’ time. I didn’t want to talk about the war, and unlike some of our brethren, I didn’t want to have little reunion parties to natter about the good old days either, you know, those good old days when we went about the business of killing people. It was over, and I had a life to live. I didn’t know if I would be long for this world, or if someone would come for me, but I had to give an ordinary life a chance. I suggest you do the same. Let it go, Linni. Let Warren go, let the service go. Let it all go, and you might find all manner of wonders opening up for you. It’s worked for me.’
‘What do you mean?’
Fields smiled. ‘Nothing you’d expect. But nice and easy. A soft place to land.’
‘Clare?’
‘I’ve been keeping company with the chairman of the local chess society. Very nice gentleman. Little bit older than me, but a good fellow all the same. And I like chess – it’s a game of strategy.’
‘I – I came here to get answers,’ said Elinor.
Clare Fields reached for Elinor’s hands and took them in her own. ‘Linni, you have as many answers as you need or are likely to get. Don’t ask for more. I learnt in the Great War that there are many battles to be fought, and one of the biggest is with the veils that come down around us – with all due respect to that American author, you know, Mr Steinbeck, I call them the ‘drapes of wrath.’ They both hide the truth and shield us from the danger behind them. I couldn’t see through all the veils, and neither can you – nor could Steve Warren, for that matter.’
Elinor shrugged, shaking her head. ‘“You win some, and you lose some,” to quote a policeman I know.’
‘And that’s what it amounts to.’ Fields looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘Oh dear, I’m sure you must be getting on your way, Linni. My gentleman friend is coming to call – we’re going for a nice long walk followed by lunch at our local and a bit of cunning thrown in with a game of chess. I’m wallowing in a good dose of ordinary.’
The women stood up at the same time, whereupon Fields placed a hand on Elinor’s shoulder. ‘War is the moral failing, Linni, and one way or another we were all caught up in it. So let it go. Do all you can to put it behind you. If you don’t, everything that went on in both those wars will destroy you – and you deserve a much better outcome.’
‘I don’t want to feel like prey any more, and I don’t want to be a predator.’
‘The time has passed when you had to choose.’
‘A doctor once told me to let time and nature do the work of healing.’
‘That’s all very well, but you’ve been late to start the clock. Find peace where you can, dear Linni. Get on with living – and find some joy, even if it is with an old codger from the chess society. Ordinary has its moments for people like us.’ She paused. ‘And Linni – when you knocked at the door, I wasn’t holding any weapon. I won’t have a gun in the house. Be rid of them. Put whatever comprises your armory into a sack and throw it in Denbury lake. No one who wants a peaceful, safe life needs a weapon. Only soldiers at war need guns, and we are not at war.’
Elinor nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ll do it as soon as I get home.’
The woman she had first known as Isabelle smiled. ‘Good. Come and see me again soon.’ They began to walk towards the door, and as Clare Fields stood on the threshold she smiled. ‘By the way, talking of doctors, we’ve a very nice new veterinary surgeon in town – I believe you may have crossed paths with him. He’s moving down from London this week. Apparently he’s had enough of it all up there and is looking forward to doing ordinary dog, cat and horse work. He’s a widower – lost his wife in a motoring accident, and he’s not an old codger, not like my chess partner. Anyway, just thought you’d like to know.’
Given her parting information, Elinor drove away from Battle wondering how many threads of intelligence were still attached to the fabric of Clare Fields’s life, despite her assurance to the contrary. But it was done now; she had no further need to continue the acquaintance and wondered if she would ever imagine a time when the two women could meet without her feeling Clare’s hand on her young shoulders while the older woman instructed her in the skills required to become predator instead of prey.
Sophie stood on the doorstep ready to greet Elinor when she arrived at the house in Burwash.
‘Good timing, Linni – bang on twelve!’
‘I had to make one stop, but I didn’t meet any traffic on the way over here.’
‘Important errand?’
Elinor reached for her friend.
‘Oh, Linni, what is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Soph, will you come to stay with me soon, or may I come here again? I have some things I want to tell you, and not in a hurry. Things a best friend should know.’
‘And it’s about time.’ Sophie gave a mischievous grin. ‘Will we get into trouble?’
‘Only if you tell.’
Sophie laughed. ‘I might have a few stories myself – perhaps these tales are better out in the open, but just between us. Come on – Jim, Rose and Susie are in the garden with that incorrigible scruffy hound.’
Sophie led Elinor through the house, towards French windows opening out into the garden. ‘Jim’s been raking leaves, and as you can see, little Susie is doing a grand job of taking them from the barrow and spreading them again to keep her poor dad in work.’
Elinor waved as Sophie called out, ‘Look who’s here to take you home!’
‘Hello, Miss White. I just want to finish this job for Mrs Hunt before we leave.’
‘Linneeee …’ Susie threw a handful of leaves into the air and began to run towards Elinor, her arms wide.
Elinor scooped up the child, who wrapped her arms around Elinor’s neck.
‘Linneee, Linnee, Linnee,’ Susie squealed time and again.
‘I’m so sorry, Miss White,’ said Rose as she walked towards them. ‘She picks up things so fast now, sweeping up every new word and saying it over and over again. We have to watch what we say in front of her – especially Jim, you know, if he bangs his finger with the hammer and says something he shouldn’t. Susie heard Mrs Hunt calling you “Linni” and then again when she was on the phone to you, and now it’s in her head, she won’t stop. She’s been asking all morning if Linni’s coming. I’ll make sure she knows better.’
‘It’s alright, Rose. Really.’
‘Linnee – Linnee – Linnee,’ repeated Susie.
Elinor felt Susie playing with her hair as the little girl sang her name into a tune, the soft, rosy cheeks now pressed against her own. And though Elinor laughed, she lowered her head so her tears were hidden. The child in her arms was unlocking guilt that had imprisoned her for years; Susie Mackie was setting her free.
‘Miss White,’ Jim called out while raking up more leaves, helped by Rose. ‘Wait until I tell you about Aunt Elsie. We heard some news on the wireless – about a big job pulled off yesterday. I don’t know how she could have done it, but I’ve a funny feeling it was all down to Aunt Elsie.’
Elinor smiled. ‘Well, you said she was a dark horse, Jim. Now then, let’s get you all home.’ She turned to the little girl, who was running her hand across Elinor’s damp cheek. ‘Ready to go home, Susie?’
The following morning Elinor rose early, wakened by shafts of sunlight shining through her bedroom window. Following a cup of strong black coffee made with freshly ground beans, she left the house, having denied herself the habit of first lifting her binoculars to study the woodland at the perimeter of the field beyond the back garden. She had no wish to indulge the need for constant surveillance of her surroundings any longer. Instead, she went straight to the garage and unlocked the door to her armory. Fields was right – the weapons held there served no purpose in a time of peace, and perhaps the intense vigilance she had become used to was indeed to her detriment. It was time to put an end to her wars. Fingering each firearm, she wavered over her hunting rifle. While it might be useful as a deterrent, it was not suited to self-defence – she had only ever fired it to provide food for herself. Should she keep it for that purpose, for bagging a pheasant or rabbit? Perhaps until rationing ended? She shook her head. No, it had to go. It all had to go.
Shoving the entire contents of her gun cupboard into a sack, Elinor tied it with string, heaved it up to balance across her shoulder, and left the garage to set off on the long walk across fields and through woodland until she reached the lake at the heart of Denbury Forest. She did not waver, denying herself any reflection upon the past and how she had taken life – and, to be fair, saved lives – across a span of two world wars. As she stood at the edge of the lake, Elinor White took a deep breath, and with every ounce of strength in her personal arsenal she drew back the sack with both hands and launched it into the water. She remained watching only for as long as it took the ripples to vanish, and as small waves lapped against the toes of her rubber boots, she smiled. The weight of war was beginning to lift from her shoulders. She turned and walked away from the lake, her thoughts amounting to very little as she ran her fingertips across the very fine point of the sharpened pencil she kept in her pocket.