MISS STILLWELL HAD ACTED QUICKLY AND AS TYLER came out of the library, she was ready with information regarding Elsie Bates’s next of kin, and the names of all the girls in the hostel. She looked haggard, but she was calm and efficient. The kind of woman you were glad to have on your side. She showed him to her office, where the telephone was, and withdrew to check on Rose.
It took him a while to get through to London, but finally somebody answered and rerouted him to the police station in the East End nearest to where Elsie Bates had lived. Again, the telephone rang and rang before it was picked up.
“Sergeant Donaldson here.”
Tyler identified himself and explained why he was calling.
“As soon as the post-mortem’s done, we can have the body sent down. We just need some directions.”
“Hmm. I’m afraid there was a bad incident yesterday, Inspector. Our RAF lads were engaged in a dogfight with Jerry and one of them was shot down. Unfortunately, he crashed right on the street you mention. He was killed and there were a couple of fatalities on the ground. Lots of houses were damaged. It’s a tight, crowded street. But I’ll do my best to get word to the family.” The officer sighed. “Poor buggers. Bad news on top of bad news by the sound of it. Laid any charges yet?”
“Not yet. It’s early days. I’d appreciate it if you’d ask the parents a few questions for me. Did Elsie have a boyfriend? You know, the usual drill.”
“I’ll do it if I can. I don’t know the situation yet.”
There was something about the sergeant’s voice that threw Tyler onto the defensive.
“She didn’t deserve to die like that. She wasn’t even twenty years old.”
Another sigh from the other end of the line. “Yes, well, you should have seen what my men had to dig out. We had an eight-year-old and a newborn. They didn’t deserve it either.”
Somehow the implication was that Elsie was not an innocent. Who knows, he may have been right.
The sergeant promised to call as soon as he had any information, and they hung up.
Tyler rang his station. Sergeant Gough answered.
“No news yet, sir. The lads are still out searching.”
“Nothing here either. I’m going over to Prees Heath now. See if anybody knows anything.”
He made one more call to Major Fordham, the commandant at the internment camp, who had to use a field telephone. The reception was poor, but Tyler gathered the major was expecting him, and the internees had been put on stand-by for his arrival. Sir Percy had done his job.
Miss Stillwell personally saw Tyler out. As he drove away, he glanced in his rear-view mirror to see her still standing in the doorway of the grand old house.
As he headed for the internment camp into the hot, sunny morning, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Clare would be there. How old was he when they first met? Nine? That’s right. He’d just had his ninth birthday and had been given a cricket bat by his parents. Clare was two months younger. She had come to spend the summer with her cousin Percy at the manor, and her aunt periodically invited the local children to afternoon tea.
“Mind your manners, Tom Tyler.” His mother had sent him off in his Sunday best, shoes polished, hair slicked down. All of the children had looked forward to these afternoons and the chance to stuff themselves with cream buns. All except Clare, that is, who, with her knobby, pale, bare knees, skinny blond braids, and inexplicably shabby clothes, seemed more ill at ease than any of them. However, when she returned for each of the following three summers, she was gradually accepted into the little community of the country town. She learned to give back as good as she got, the children stopped teasing her about her posh way of speaking, and Tom discovered she didn’t mind if he played horsey with her, both of them galloping about the lawn with him holding onto her long plaits as if they were reins.
Tyler slowed down to negotiate a blind corner. When they were twelve, Clare stopped coming to Whitchurch. He enquired at the manor and was told she had gone off to a finishing school in Switzerland. He pined for a while, then started to forget about her. When the Great War broke out, he enlisted as soon as he was old enough. The experiences he had there tended to wipe out any rosy memories of his childhood.
Tyler risked driving into the ditch and fished out and lit a cigarette. Memories of the war were still troubling to him. He preferred to think about Clare, although, to tell the truth, not all of those memories were sweet either.
When she finally returned to Whitchurch, he’d been demobbed for a year and had rejoined the constabulary. Funnily enough, they’d met in the same place where he’d run into her last week. He’d gone to the market to buy some vegetables for his mother. And there was Clare. No longer the shy little girl he’d known. She had blossomed into one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. Plaits gone, blond hair in a fashionable chignon at her neck. There was even a hint of rouge on her shapely lips. She was wearing a loose-fitting, stylish cream suit of some lacy, gauzy material. Such a wide-brimmed hat had never been seen before in the streets of Whitchurch. Was it really a bright sunny day, or was that just his memory playing tricks? Clare, bathed in sunlight, standing at one of the stalls.
Rather to his surprise, Clare had seemed equally pleased to see him. As naturally as if she hadn’t left, they started to spend all their free time together. He’d abandoned cricket and become adept at football. She came to all his games. He was both proud and jealous of the attention she drew from the men. If they’d set tongues wagging, they didn’t care. His own parents nagged him constantly about stepping out of his class, but he wouldn’t listen.
“She’ll break your heart. Her kind always does,” warned his mother.
And she had.
He hadn’t seen her again until a week ago. She was standing at Alice Thorne’s stall, breathing into a bunch of lavender. Her back was to him but he knew at once it was her, and he felt as if he’d taken a punch in the stomach. She was actually thinner than she’d been, and the white cotton frock hung loosely about her frame. She was hatless, her blond hair cut shorter than the prevailing fashion and touched with grey at the sides, but she was still Clare, and he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about that.
She’d turned and saw him. Was she as shocked? He couldn’t tell. She’d smiled, but in his view it was a cool smile, the kind you’d give an old acquaintance, not a former lover.
“Hello, Tom. How nice to see you.”
“And you, Clare. What brings you here after all these years?”
“I returned to England so I could do my bit for the war effort. I have a job over at the Prees Heath internment camp. I’m acting as an interpreter.”
“Ah yes, you must be fluent in German. I’d read somewhere you were living in Switzerland.”
The lie fell from his mouth cool as a cucumber. He’d read somewhere. Ha! For years he’d combed every newspaper gossip column he could find for information about her. Two years after she left him, she had married a much older man, a wealthy Swiss German industrialist. She appeared to have lived the typical life of a rich socialite, dividing her time between Switzerland and Austria, where her husband had large estates. They had no children.
She smiled. “You look well, Tom. How have you been?”
“I am well, thank you. Country air, you know.”
He was aware that Alice Thorne was eyeing them curiously. She’d come to live in Whitchurch after Clare had left, but Alice was a shrewd judge of character, and as far as he was concerned his own consternation at this unexpected meeting was as loud as the air raid siren they’d installed in the square. Danger, danger. Take cover.
“How long have you been in the county?” he asked Clare.
“Not long. Less than a week.” She added, quickly, “I knew I’d run into you sooner or later, Tom.”
“Of course.” But he couldn’t stop the pang of disappointment.
She went on to say she was staying at Beeton Manor; yes, the summer had been wonderfully warm, hadn’t it? But they could use some rain now, couldn’t they? She hadn’t asked him any personal questions – perhaps she knew the answers.
Surely no more than five minutes had elapsed when Clare had checked her watch and said she had to leave, that she was on duty. They must get together soon and catch up. She’d walked away and he turned to meet Alice’s eyes.
“Ghosts from the past, eh Alice? They can shake you up when you’re not expecting it.”