Hatterson pushed his breakfast away and stood up abruptly, wincing as his stump throbbed in protest. He’d seen better artificial limbs than this one, but only the officers and rich folk got those. Cannon fodder, that’s all he’d been, thrown away once he was no use. Well, he’d show them what a one-legged man could do. Then see what fools they’d look.
‘I’ll be busy this morning,’ he told his wife. ‘I don’t want disturbing, so don’t come into the front room. If I need a cuppa I’ll come out and get it myself.’
‘All right, Sidney. I have to go out to the shop anyway. What do you want for tea?’
‘Some ham – decent stuff, not that gristly cat meat you brought back last time.’
‘I’ll do my best, but I can only buy what they’ve got in the shop and there are shortages of some items, so they can only do their best, too.’
‘It’s up to you to make sure we get our share of the good stuff. And remember when you get back, no disturbing me.’
She nodded.
He went into the front room and sat down. His friends had called in last night after the fiasco at Greyladies. A chap had come out of the old house to fiddle with a car, offering himself on a plate for a good bashing, and they’d still missed making an example of him, damn them.
Well, they’d make up for that failure tonight. They’d checked everything out and made their plans about where to attack from. It’d be the big one tonight, the offensive to destroy the Huns and give the rich traitors their comeuppance.
He liked to use the word ‘offensive’. It showed he and his friends were professional about what they were doing, not just hooligans. Some of them were ex-soldiers, invalided out like him; others had been denied the chance to fight for their country for silly medical reasons; a few had even been told they were too old to serve. Well, the doctors were wrong. All of the people who’d be involved were capable of acting, and so people would see before too long.
He waited till he heard Pearl go out, then settled his stick with the knitted hat on top in the chair to make it appear he was sitting there reading. Crouching to avoid being seen from the street, he left the room. While Pearl was out, he had to get the attic ready for tonight. A few chaps would be trickling in during the rest of the day and could hide up there. Some might spend the rest of the night there after the offensive.
He was going to send Pearl to visit her cousin at the farm this afternoon and tell her to stay there overnight, since they always asked her to. That’d keep her out of the way nicely. Those two women never stopped nattering once they were together. He hadn’t stopped her visiting the farm every now and then, even though it was a waste of time, because it was a useful way of getting rid of her.
He went up to the attic and got out some old bedding and a slop bucket.
As he went down again, he heard the back door open and close.
He hurried to the kitchen and saw Ted standing there.
‘Had to come early, Hatty, lad. Someone I don’t want to see came looking for me.’
Hatterson glanced through the rear window. No sign of Pearl, thank goodness. ‘Come upstairs quickly, and keep quiet once you’re there. The wife will be back soon from the shops. I’m sending her away while we’re doing this.’
‘Good idea. Got a newspaper I can read?’
‘Only yesterday’s. She uses them to light the fire.’
‘Yesterday’s will do.’
Hatterson went back downstairs, decided he was thirsty and made himself a cup of tea. Then he took it into the front room, bending low again to get across to his chair. To make sure the old witch or one of the other nosy parkers in this street saw him, he put the hat on, stood up to look out of the bay window, pretending to stretch and yawn. That should do it.
As he sat down he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, wondering where his wife was. She was taking long enough at the shop. Gossiping probably. Well, he wouldn’t chastise her about that today.
Pearl queued up at the shop, feeling exhausted and in despair. Sidney was getting worse not better, treating her like a slave, working her to death, and who knew what he was planning. Something bad, that was sure.
Just before she got to the counter everything began to spin and she cried out as she felt herself falling. When she came to, she found herself lying on a sofa, with a neighbour fanning her face.
‘Ah, you’re awake again, Mrs Hatterson. You went and fainted on us. Did you miss your breakfast today?’
Pearl couldn’t seem to think straight at first, then remembered they’d run out of bread because Sidney had treated himself to a few slices of toast last night. To save him complaining and perhaps thumping her, she’d given him what was left this morning. ‘I wasn’t hungry.’
The woman crouched in front of her. ‘You’re thinner than you used to be. Are you getting enough to eat? He’s working you too hard.’
Pearl tried not to show that this had hit the mark, but tears welled in her eyes. ‘I do my best – he has been injured you know – but I can’t keep up with everything the way he likes.’
Mrs Pocock came out from the kitchen and shoved a cup of tea at her. ‘Here you are. It’s nice and sweet. You get it down.’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
She saw the two women look at one another. ‘Look. We all know what’s going on,’ Mrs Pocock said. ‘If you ever need to get away from him, you come here to me and I’ll hide you, then tell Mrs Latimer. She knows a place for women who aren’t happy at home and she helps them make new lives.’
Pearl was so horrified at the bits and pieces she’d overheard at home that she said without thinking, ‘It’s Mrs Latimer he’s going after!’
‘What? Why would anyone go after her? She’s a really kind lady.’
‘Them being at the house is nothing to do with her. It was requisitioned by the War Office. Has your husband gone mad?’
There was silence and Pearl didn’t know what to say. Sidney did seem a bit … strange at times. ‘He’s changed a lot since the war.’
‘Look, dear, I think it’s time you let us in on what’s going on. He’s planning something nasty, isn’t he?’
‘If Sidney hears I’ve told you anything, he’ll beat me black and blue.’ Then she clapped one hand to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone that, either. She had her pride, after all. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, but no one else was close enough to overhear.
Mrs Pocock kept her voice down too. ‘Everyone in the village knows he beats you, love. You can’t hide all the bruises.’
She burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying from shame till she remembered he’d see her red eyes when she went home and want to know what she’d been crying about.
‘Stay here, Pearl. Don’t go back. I’ll tell him you’re leaving him, if you want,’ Mrs Pocock said. ‘He won’t beat me, I promise you.’
‘No, no! I must go home. He mustn’t know. I daren’t cross him. He’ll kill me.’
And in spite of their attempts to persuade her to stay, she pulled herself together, splashed cold water on her face and bought what she needed, before making her way slowly home. She nearly turned round halfway, but then she stiffened her spine and continued. For better, for worse, that’s what she’d promised.
When she got home, she heard Sidney talking to someone in the attic. What was that about? Who had he got hidden up there? She’d better not let him know she’d heard them.
He started down the stairs and she glanced round in panic, then darted into the wash house. He came into the kitchen, so she stayed where she was till he’d made himself a cup of tea.
She saw him carry it towards the front room. Strange. He usually took a good slurp before he moved, because carrying full cups of tea around with his limp made him spill it sometimes. But today the cup wasn’t rattling in the saucer as much as usual. And he wasn’t limping as much, either.
When she heard him set the cup down, she left the pantry and stood for a moment staring at herself in the mirror. She was chalk white, but the latest bruises didn’t show, thank goodness. She opened the back door quietly and pretended to come in again but the wind blew it out of her hand and it banged loudly shut.
That brought him straight out into the kitchen, mouth open to scold her for another imaginary fault. But he stopped and stared at her instead. ‘You’ve been crying.’
‘Sort of.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘I fainted in the shop and I was upset afterwards. Mrs Pocock gave me a cup of tea, but I still feel a bit dizzy.’ She fumbled for a kitchen chair and dropped down into it at the table.
‘Did you get the shopping?’
‘Most of it. At least, I think I did. It’s in the shopping bag. I don’t feel well. Perhaps I should go and have a lie-down.’
‘Nonsense. You’ve been working too hard. Lying down won’t help. What you need is to get out in the open air. That’ll freshen you up. Why don’t you go and spend the afternoon nattering to that cousin of yours who lives just outside Challerton? In fact, why don’t you stay overnight at the farm? Jen’s always asking you.’
She stared at him, trying to work out what was going on. Obviously he wanted to get rid of her, but why? It must be to do with his hidden friend. What were they up to?
‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Cat got your tongue?’
‘I was surprised. You don’t usually want me to go out.’
‘You don’t usually faint all over people.’
There was a thump upstairs as if someone had knocked over a piece of furniture.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, because it’d have looked strange if she hadn’t asked.
‘Ah. Well, to tell you the truth a friend of mine has come to visit me and he didn’t get much sleep last night so he’s having a lie-down in the attic.’
‘Why didn’t you put him in one of the spare bedrooms?’
‘I – um, thought he’d be quieter up there. I’ve invited another couple of mates to visit me later, so it’d suit me if you went out today.’
‘It would be nice to see Jen.’
‘There you are, then. We’d both be suited.’
‘But it’s a long way to walk and I’m still not feeling right.’ She held her breath. Would he get upset at this and hit her? He’d locked her bike away a few months ago, saying she didn’t need it. She missed the freedom of being able to go further afield. Five miles was too far to walk.
‘Why don’t I get your bike out? The light’s not working properly, but if you stay overnight, you won’t need to ride back after dark. Me and my mates will be able to have a few beers in peace and make as much noise as we please.’
‘Oh. Well, all right. If you’re sure.’
‘Of course I’m sure. Why don’t you pack an overnight bag and go straight away?’
‘Before I’ve made your lunch?’ Again she held her breath as she waited for an answer.
‘I can make myself a damned sandwich. I’m not helpless, you know. It’s my leg that’s gone, not my hands.’
‘I will, then. And thank you very much. I shall enjoy a break.’
He patted her shoulder and she couldn’t help flinching away from him, thinking he was going to hit her. He smiled at that. He liked her to show she was afraid of him.
‘I’ll go and check your bicycle, oil it a bit. You can leave as soon as it’s ready. Get that bag packed.’ He walked out whistling cheerfully.
She wondered who was hiding upstairs, what had made Sidney so cheerful all of a sudden. It probably meant someone was going to get hurt. She ought to tell someone. Did she dare do it, though?
As she put her hand over her mouth, she caught sight of herself in the dressing table mirror, looking like a timid child. That made her feel angry. She was twenty-five years old, not five. And she had done nothing wrong and didn’t deserve to be hurt.
Slowly she let her hand fall. She’d do it! Leave him. And it’d serve him right. She’d call in to see Mrs Pocock again before she went out to Jen’s farm and warn the shopkeeper that strangers were coming to the house. That never normally happened, well, not openly in the daytime.
Only, this person wasn’t here openly. Sidney had looked annoyed at the noise he’d made. Someone should keep watch and see who else turned up, find out what was going on. She’d suggest that to Mrs Pocock. The shopkeeper knew everyone in the village.
From the things Sidney had said about the foreigners at the big house, he was intending to cause trouble there. That was bad enough, because Mrs Latimer was a lovely person. But Pearl also hated to think of those gentle old people getting hurt. She didn’t want to be part of hurting anyone.
She’d had enough. Mrs Pocock was right. She shouldn’t put up with it. She was definitely not coming back and if Jen wouldn’t help her, she’d go to Mrs Pocock.
On that thought she began cramming as many of her clothes as she could in the shabby little suitcase. She didn’t dare take the big one, so she quickly put on two or three of every undergarment possible and stuffed her pockets with handkerchiefs, gloves, anything small she could find.
She jumped like a startled rabbit when he called from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Your bike’s ready, Pearl.’
‘Thank you, Sidney. I’ll be down in a minute.’
With some difficulty she forced a half-smile as she passed him in the kitchen. He didn’t follow her out, but her fingers were shaking as she strapped the little suitcase to the rack on the bicycle. She kept expecting him to call her back and say it had all been a joke, and she couldn’t go.
But he didn’t. He didn’t even stand in the garden to watch her leave.
She had no trouble smiling as she parked her bicycle round the back of the shop and went in to see Mrs Pocock. She was with people now. He couldn’t drag her back, even if he came after her.
On the way to her cousin’s she threw back her head and laughed aloud, which set the bicycle wobbling wildly across the country lane and nearly landed her in the ditch.
Still laughing, she managed to control the bicycle and carry on … pedalling her way to freedom.
Once that poor cowed creature had left, Mrs Pocock called in her husband and after an earnest discussion, he set off for Greyladies, taking a roundabout route.
To his shock, someone grabbed him as he was passing the crypt and before he could do more than let out one yell, he found himself on the ground, with one arm twisted behind his back.
He heard Major Latimer’s voice and sagged in relief.
‘I’m going to let you get up, but if you try to run away, I’ll really hurt you.’
Mr Pocock heaved himself to his feet, one hand to his chest. ‘You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I was coming to see Mrs Latimer, to warn her.’
The major’s expression was grim. ‘About what?’
‘We’ve heard Hatterson and his cronies are gathering at his house today. We think they’re going to stage a big attack tonight, perhaps try to capture the big house. There’s someone at his house already, and one of my customers saw a stranger in their street.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Mrs Hatterson fainted in the shop today and my wife told her if she left her husband we’d help her, or Mrs Latimer would. Well, he’s been beating the poor little thing for years, as well as making her do all the work. She can’t be more than five foot high and she’s as thin as a lath. My wife doesn’t think she’s even eating properly.’
‘Go on.’
‘Mrs Hatterson came back to see us later, riding her bicycle, which he’d taken off her but he’s given it her back so that she can go and visit her cousin, who lives on a farm outside the village. Mrs Hatterson was told to stay the night there.’
‘That’s ominous.’
‘She said she couldn’t stand it any longer and she’s decided to leave him. She told us he was expecting some of his friends, and he’d got that look to him.’
‘What look is that?’
‘Wild-eyed. I know what she means. I’ve seen him in a rage a couple of times. She thinks he’s gone mad and is planning to do something terrible, but she doesn’t know what.’
The silence seemed to go on for ever, then the major spoke in a normal, friendly tone and Mr Pocock sagged in relief.
‘You’d better come to the house and talk to my wife about it. We’re making plans to protect ourselves, which is why I was checking the crypt. But if we get an attack by a mob, there may too few of us to defend Greyladies properly. Most of the internees are too old and feeble to help. Look. You know everyone in the village. You’ll know who we can rely on, who’s strong and ready to fight for his country.’
‘I do indeed. And I don’t believe in mob rule, sir.’
‘Good. To set the record straight, our Germans are helping the British government with information about all sorts of things. They’re making a significant contribution to the war effort on our side.’
‘We’d heard rumours about that.’
‘Had you? By Jove! It’s not supposed to be known.’
Mr Pocock shrugged. ‘It’s a small village. You know how things get talked about.’
‘If everyone knows about it, why is that fellow trying to stir up trouble?’
‘He’s an incomer, and what’s more he isn’t liked. No one would tell him anything. There are a few others who don’t join in much, as well, and we don’t discuss it with them, either. Two or three of them have been seen going into Hatterson’s house lately or leaving the village after dark. There have been motor cars stopping nearby during the night, too. Hatterson’s uncle must be spinning in his grave about what’s being done with his old home.’
‘Yes. Funny how things turn out sometimes. I didn’t realise I was coming home today to lead an unofficial battle against hoodlums, but that’s what it’ll amount to. There isn’t time to get more soldiers here and in place before nightfall, and anyway, we have no real proof of what’s being planned, so I’d have trouble getting any sent.’
But he was going to phone the nearest unit and set up certain arrangements with them.
‘Well, as I said, I’m ready to help out, because it’s my village, and I can name a few others who’ll help as well. I hope you get Hatterson locked up in prison for the rest of his life, then he won’t be able to beat up that poor woman … or betray his country.’
He was looking forward to helping sort this out, had been itching to get hold of Hatterson and give him some of his own medicine. He couldn’t be doing with people who beat up their wives and caused trouble in the village.
As for traitors who attacked British houses and soldiers, he’d stand the sods up against a wall and shoot them himself, by hell he would.
In some amusement, Corin watched Gilbert Pocock, in his sixties and distinctly plump, stride beside him into the house with an attempt at a military bearing.
People like him and Joe were the salt of the earth, were what had made Britain the great nation she was.