Hatterson had insisted on organising one particular job himself, even though most of the strangers were cynical about the information it was based on.
Well, he knew better. He’d overheard more than the villagers realised recently, because there was nothing wrong with his hearing. A couple of people had talked about a secret passage from the crypt to the big house, not as a legend but a fact, because that Latimer bitch had actually been through it.
So he’d insisted on two men armed with a bolt cutter being sent to cut off the padlock that was used to keep it locked. They were to open up the door into the crypt as soon as the fighting started. Then they were to look for the passage and enter the house when they heard him break in. The crypt wasn’t all that big. They were bound to find it.
The two men did as he’d told them and the padlock was quickly disposed of. They pushed open the grille, laughing.
‘Fat lot of good a door like this is,’ the older one muttered. ‘Anyone could break in.’
The other one shivered and stood still for a moment. ‘Is it my imagination or is it colder in here?’
‘Well, it’s underground, isn’t it? Bound to be. Where’s that electric torch you were given? Switch it on. The sooner we find that passage, the better. I want to be one of the first into the house, so that I can get my choice of the pickings.’
‘Ah, it’s a big house. There’ll be enough stuff to go round before we burn it down.’
‘Do you know what we’re looking for in here?’
The younger fellow nodded. ‘Yes, I do and Hatterson agrees with me. You have to find something to twist, like a bit of carving or a knob of wood, then a panel in a wall opens up. I read a book about secret passages when I was a lad, and that’s the way most of them work.’
They slowed down as they left the short passage and entered the main chamber of the crypt. Even the light of a modern electric torch didn’t seem to illuminate the big underground space very well. Shadows danced on the walls around them, shadows that looked like menacing figures shaking their fists. Of course they couldn’t be, but still, the two men moved closer to one another.
‘I don’t like this place,’ the younger one said suddenly. ‘It smells of death. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘You’re not here to like it; you’re here to do a job.’
Just then they heard something move inside the crypt.
‘That wasn’t a ghost. Quick, switch that torch off and get down behind this tomb.’
There was a grating sound and a thin shaft of light shone out from the wall in a corner at the rear of the crypt.
‘Told you so,’ the younger man said. ‘It’s a secret panel. And they’re showing us the way.’ He laughed softly.
The older man took a hasty step back. ‘We’d better go and tell the others there’s a group from the house coming this way.’
But as they turned to leave, a light began to glow between them and the way out.
‘What the hell is that?’
As the light shimmered into the outline of a figure, the younger man wailed and yelled, ‘It’s the devil, come to get us! No, no! Go away!’ He crouched down, pressed against the box tomb, hands over his head as if protecting himself from blows.
When he wouldn’t get up, his companion tried to drag him towards the door.
But the first man from the house had got through from the tunnel by that time and he was from the village, so knew exactly who the glowing figure was. The light around it grew brighter, illuminating the two intruders nearby.
Bobbing his head quickly to the figure in a gesture of respect, the villager rushed across to grab the nearest man and yelled, ‘Someone get the other chap.’
Within seconds both men had been captured, and although the older one put up a half-hearted struggle, the other continued to wail and beg to be saved from the devil.
All the time Anne Latimer’s figure glowed steadily, giving them light to see by.
‘The devil is welcome to you, as far as I’m concerned,’ the group leader said, shaking the younger man good and hard. ‘Tie them up and stick them in a corner. We have a job to do.’
He bobbed his head again to the ghost. ‘Thank you, My Lady.’
The final men were out of the tunnel by then and once the intruders had been secured, the men from the big house made their way out of the crypt.
Behind them the light faded slowly, leaving the big echoing space in total darkness.
The younger intruder began crying for his mother.
The older one kept silent, shivering, wishing he’d never come, wondering what the authorities would do with him.
Several of the windows at Greyladies were smashed by now.
‘Time to take them by surprise,’ Hatterson said as his friend came across to join him. ‘Are you going to create that other diversion, Nev?’
‘Aye. I’ve got the fireworks ready. With a bit of luck one of them will set fire to the roof.’
‘It’s made of stone. We have to get into the house to set it on fire.’
‘Well, I hope you really do have a way to get in. You do your bit and I’ll do mine with the fireworks, like we planned.’
As the assault on the front of the house increased in intensity, Hatterson smiled in anticipation. He had a key to the rarely used back door of the laundry in the old part. It’d cost him a pound to buy it off one of the men in the village who had worked at Greyladies for a while, but been sacked for drunkenness. If it worked, it’d be well worth the money.
With some of his group creating an extra diversion by lighting a bonfire in one corner, he crept round to the laundry door. The key was a bit stiff but it worked. The door opened with a brief squeak. He doubted anyone would hear that with all the racket going on near the old stables and the first of the fireworks zipping into the air.
As soon as the bonfire started burning outside, he moved quietly into the house, not bothering to exaggerate his limp now. No one would notice in the dim light how he was walking.
He beckoned to his companion to join him and they moved forward, avoiding the kitchen, which his informant had told him how to do.
He grinned as he peeped into the long hall and saw her. Yes, you bitch, he thought. You’re going to pay dearly for housing those Huns.
He wondered who the short fellow standing near her was. He hoped it was a new Hun. And who was the other woman? She wasn’t bad looking. He giggled softly as he wondered if she’d ever been taken by a one-legged man. If he got the chance later …
He and his companion crept round the side of the room, taking advantage of the occupants’ attention being diverted by the bonfire. As he’d planned.
Suddenly light began to shine on them. He cursed. What the hell was that?
It resolved itself into a woman’s figure. He didn’t believe in ghosts. They’d probably found some way of shining lights to fool the attackers, like they did in the theatre when they projected ‘ghosts’ on to a stage. He’d seen that done a couple of times now. It made the lasses scream.
But when he tried to raise the hand containing a club to thump whatever it was out of the way, he could only move slowly. Bewildered, he tried to act more quickly, but it was like stirring up treacle.
By then someone was calling out in a clear, bell-like voice. ‘Beware of intruders, Phoebe and Olivia. Beware of intruders.’
Ethel heard the noise and voices in the main room and looked at Cook. ‘They must have got in another way.’ She took out the gun. ‘You stay here. If anyone tries to get through a window, bash them good and hard.’
She slipped through the kitchen door and glanced round the room. She saw Mr Stein leave through the connecting door. He’d be going for help. But would it come in time? She’d spotted Hatterson now and the expression on his face was that of a man in a dangerous mood.
She’d seen men in pubs drunk and spoiling for a fight. He looked drunk on something else, hatred perhaps, from the bitterness she’d seen on his face when she met him in the village.
Well, he wasn’t going to hurt her mistress or those precious unborn children.
Neither of the men with him noticed her because they were gaping at the ghost.
As Ethel reached the group, the ghost began to fade.
‘Hands up or I fire!’ she shouted as loudly as she could.
Hatterson spun round and gaped at her then lunged towards Phoebe, hand outstretched to grab her. At the same time the man with him waved a knife at Olivia.
Ethel didn’t waste any time. She raised the gun and took careful aim.
Hatterson laughed at her. ‘Go on! I dare you. You’ll miss me by a mile and hit her. You probably won’t even dare fire that gun. You women are all cowards at heart.’ He’d got hold of Phoebe’s arm now.
At the same time his companion slashed his knife at Olivia. Alex stepped between her and her attacker, pushing her behind him, so Ethel left him to it.
‘Last warning, Hatterson,’ she said. ‘I know how to use this gun.’
‘Ooh, I’m scared.’ He tried to pull Phoebe in front of him and the wickedness in his eyes as he looked at her belly was the final straw.
As calmly as if she’d been firing at a target, Ethel aimed at him. She yelled, ‘Duck, ma’am!’ just before she squeezed the trigger.
Phoebe threw herself sideways, even though he still had hold of her arm.
The shot sounded so loud Ethel’s ears were ringing and she couldn’t hear for a moment or two. Then she stared at what she’d done. There was no mistaking what she saw.
Phoebe was free of him now and was also staring down at him, while rubbing the arm he’d been gripping.
‘I’ve killed a man!’ Ethel said, feeling sick.
‘No, you’ve killed a madman and saved the lives of a woman and two children,’ a voice said in her head. Anne Latimer. ‘You had no choice.’
Ethel turned to see Major Latimer striding across the room, also with a gun in his hand.
Only then did she allow herself to drop the gun and plump down on the nearest chair, trying to control her nausea.
To Olivia’s relief, the major moved towards the man threatening them with a knife.
‘Get back, soldier, or I’ll hurt them!’ the man yelled, still waving the knife about wildly. ‘You’re not capturing me.’
‘Drop that knife,’ Corin said quietly but firmly.
‘If you come any closer, I’ll hurt your friends. If you let us all out, I’ll release them and not hurt them.’
‘You’re going nowhere.’
‘Then neither will they!’ He surprised them by slashing out again with the knife.
Alex couldn’t duck out of the way of that blade, and though he protected Olivia, he earned a long cut on his left cheek before Corin could pounce on his attacker.
Even then, the man clung to his knife and was big enough to make it difficult to subdue him.
None of them noticed Mr Stein creeping across the room. He picked up a vase and darted forward to smash it over the knife wielder’s head. The knife fell from the man’s hand and as he stumbled to his knees, groaning in pain, Corin grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back.
By then two of the men from the village had followed the major in from the front of the house to help them and they took charge of the man.
‘Are you all right, Seaton?’
Alex’s voice was muffled by the handkerchief Olivia was using to staunch the blood.
‘I think he’ll need it stitching,’ she said quietly. ‘Hold still, Alex darling.’
He looked at her with such love that her breath caught in her throat and for a moment or two they both forgot the danger they were in.
Then Corin reminded them. ‘I think we’d better regroup in the new part of the house.’ He raised one hand to salute Ethel. ‘Well done, lass! I’d not have been in time to stop that madman. Are you all right now?’
She stood up a little shakily, nodding and picking up the gun.
Corin looked at Phoebe and she moved towards him, knowing what his glance was asking.
‘I’m all right, darling. Hatterson only bruised my wrist.’
Corin took charge again, speaking crisply. ‘He’ll never hurt anyone else.’
As they began to leave the old part of the house, another noise was heard outside above the yells and the sound of stones smacking against the walls of the big house.
‘What’s that?’ Corin asked. ‘Shh!’
They stopped and listened.
‘It sounds to be coming from further away,’ Olivia said. ‘And there are women’s voices as well as men’s.’
‘What now?’ Ethel muttered. ‘Have they brought the whole of Swindon to attack us?’
Joe ran down the stairs to join them. ‘Go and look at them, Major! You’ll never believe it.’ He danced round excitedly. ‘Hurrah! We’re saved,’ he yelled.
Everyone ran towards the windows and in the moonlight they could see a line of people behind the figures of the attackers. Men, women and even older children came to a halt, standing there till they’d formed a human wall. They were banging saucepans and yelling.
‘That’s Miss Bowers at the front,’ Phoebe said. ‘And old Mr Diggan too.’
‘Get out of our village!’ a woman yelled at the top of her voice.
The cry was taken up by others and in a short time had turned into a chant punctuated by banging spoons and other rhythmic noises.
Get – out of – our – village. Get – out of – our – village.
The noise increased steadily and as the solid line of villagers began to step forward to the rhythm of their words, the attackers fell back step by step, edging closer to one another at the same time.
Then, as the line moved inexorably forward, with people brandishing all sorts of kitchen and garden implements as weapons, one man broke from the mob and ran away towards the back of the house, followed by another, and then another, until all of them were fleeing.
The villagers let them go, though a few of the men followed to check that they weren’t regrouping. The people stopped chanting suddenly and stood in front of the house.
Corin unlocked the front door and yelled, ‘Well done, everyone. Well done!’
They began to cheer and clap one another on the shoulders. Women hugged, children danced up and down yelling, men roared in triumph.
Then that noise died down too as sanity returned in a wave of murmurs. They were smiling, nodding, bearing themselves like the victors they were.
‘What wonderful people!’ Olivia whispered to Alex. ‘I feel honoured to be coming to live among them.’
‘This is a wonderful place. Will you marry me and let me live here with you?’
She smiled. ‘What a time to propose!’
‘I couldn’t wait. And where better to propose than here at Greyladies?’
‘Yes. Where better?’ Then she noticed the blood seeping from beneath the handkerchief. ‘Come on! We’ve got to get you to the doctor. I’m sure that will need stitching up.’
By the time two lorries full of soldiers arrived, the danger was past and people from the village were dispersing.
‘So you managed to quell the riot without help, sir?’ the captain in charge said.
‘I didn’t quell it. The whole village turned out, armed with saucepans, hammers and even damned rolling pins. Must have been two or three hundred of them, shouting to the mob to get out of their village. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
But then, he thought, he’d never seen anything like Greyladies, either. Its legacy was strange in many ways, but full of loving kindness, bringing out the best in people. He’d miss the old house in many ways, much as he was longing to return to his own home.
Before he could do that, however, Britain still had a war to win and the internees here were a part of some less well-known initiatives that would contribute to that.
‘No trouble from the internees?’ the captain asked.
‘Trouble? These lot are on our side. They were ready to fight the mob by our side, too. Not all Germans want war, believe me, and the government is benefitting greatly from that.’
‘Jolly good show, sir. Um – do you think you’ll need any more help?’
‘There are one or two prisoners you could take away. Apart from that, we’ll look after ourselves.’
It was full daylight before he could take the opportunity to rest. He found Phoebe in bed fast asleep and lay down beside her with a sigh.
Once the doctor had sewed up Alex’s cheek and warned him not to bang it or try to shave until the stitches had been taken out, Olivia and Alex returned to the old house and took possession of a sofa in the long room.
They cuddled close to one another, talking or falling silent, discussing what they would do next.
‘How soon can we marry?’ he asked.
‘As soon as you like. There’s no reason to wait.’
‘Good. We’ll buy a special licence.’
‘Where shall we live?’ she asked.
‘Until Phoebe and her husband move out, we can either take over your house in Swindon—’ He broke off as she grimaced. ‘Too many memories?’
‘Yes. I want to make a new start with you, darling.’
‘Then I’ll buy my mother’s house from my cousin and we’ll live there until Phoebe and Corin are ready to leave. I just want to say … I’ve never been as happy in my whole life, Olivia. Never. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have believed I’d find someone like you, someone who would want me, love me, marry me.’
‘I didn’t think I’d find someone else to love.’
‘Do you think your Charles would have approved of me?’
‘I’m sure he would. He was never mean about anything and he’d want me to remarry. But I don’t think you realise what a lovely man you are.’ Her voice became teasing. ‘What if I’m only marrying you for your money?’
‘Then I’ll give it all to you. Every penny. But I know you’re not.’
They broke off to smile at one another in the soft light of a single oil lamp, the way only lovers can smile. She nestled down against his right shoulder, made a soft, happy sound and fell asleep between one breath and the next.
He felt like a king.
Tired though he was, he didn’t fall asleep, but sat and smiled down at her lovely sleeping face.
He didn’t need Anne Latimer’s ghost to tell him he’d be happy married to Olivia. She was the most wonderful woman in the whole world and he was the luckiest man to have won her love.