Clifton Chronicles 01 - Only Time Will Tell (37 page)

‘I’m going to bed before I lose my temper,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Don’t even think of joining me in your present state.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of joining you in any state,’ said Barrington, pouring himself another whisky. ‘You haven’t given me any pleasure in the bedroom for as long as I can remember.’

Emma leapt up and ran to her room, locking the door behind her. Giles didn’t move.

‘You are obviously drunk,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We’ll discuss this in the morning, when you’re sober.’

‘There will be nothing to discuss in the morning,’ slurred Barrington as his wife left the room. A moment later his head fell back on the cushion and he began to snore.

When Jenkins pulled back the shutters in the drawing room just before eight the following morning he showed no surprise when he found his master slumped in an armchair, sound asleep and still wearing his dinner jacket.

The morning sunlight caused Barrington to stir. He blinked, and peered at the butler before he checked his watch.

‘There will be a car coming to pick up Miss Emma in about an hour’s time, Jenkins, so be sure she’s packed and ready.’

‘Miss Emma is not here, sir.’

‘What? Then where is she?’ demanded Barrington as he tried to stand up, but wobbled unsteadily for a moment before falling back into the chair.

‘I have no idea, sir. She and Mrs Barrington left the house just after midnight.’

38

‘W
HERE DO YOU THINK
they’ve gone?’ asked Harry, once Giles had described what happened after he had arrived back at the Manor House.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Giles. ‘I was asleep when they left the house. All I could get out of Jenkins was that a taxi had taken them to the station just after midnight.’

‘And you say your father was drunk when you returned home last night?’

‘As a skunk, and he hadn’t sobered up by the time I came down for breakfast this morning. He was shouting and screaming at anyone who crossed his path. He even tried to blame me for everything. That was when I decided to go and stay with my grandparents.’

‘Do you think your grandfather might know where they are?’

‘I don’t think so, although he didn’t seem that surprised when I told him what had happened. Grandma said I could stay with them for as long as I wanted to.’

‘They can’t be in Bristol,’ said Harry, ‘if the taxi took them to the station.’

‘They could be anywhere by now,’ said Giles.

Neither of them spoke again for some time, until Harry suggested, ‘Your villa in Tuscany perhaps?’

‘Unlikely,’ said Giles. ‘That’s the first place Papa would think of, so they wouldn’t be safe there for long.’

‘So it has to be somewhere your father would think twice about before going after them.’ Both boys fell silent again, until Harry said, ‘I can think of someone who might know where they are.’

‘And who’s that?’

‘Old Jack,’ said Harry, who still couldn’t quite bring himself to call him Captain Tarrant. ‘I know he’s become a friend of your mother’s, and she certainly trusts him.’

‘Do you know where he might be at the moment?’

‘Anyone who reads
The Times
knows that,’ said Harry scornfully.

Giles punched his friend on the arm. ‘So where is he, clever clogs?’

‘He’ll be at his office in London. Soho Square, if I remember correctly.’

‘I’ve always wanted an excuse to spend a day in London,’ said Giles. ‘It’s just a pity I’ve left all my money back at the house.’

‘Not a problem,’ said Harry. ‘I’m flush. That Atkins fellow gave me a fiver, although he did say I was to spend it on books.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Giles, ‘I can think of an alternative plan.’

‘Like what?’ asked Harry, looking hopeful.

‘We can just sit around and wait for Emma to write to you.’

It was Harry’s turn to punch his friend. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But we’d better get going before anyone finds out what we’re up to.’

‘I’m not in the habit of travelling third class,’ said Giles as the train pulled out of Temple Meads.

‘Well, you’d better get used to it while I’m paying,’ said Harry.

‘So tell me, Harry, what’s your friend Captain Tarrant up to? I know the government has appointed him Director of the Citizens Displacement Unit, which sounds pretty impressive, but I’m not sure what he actually does.’

‘What it says,’ said Harry. ‘He’s responsible for finding accommodation for refugees, in particular those families who are escaping the tyranny of Nazi Germany. He says he’s carrying on his father’s work.’

‘Class act, your friend Captain Tarrant.’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Harry.

‘Tickets, please.’

The two boys spent most of the journey trying to work out where Emma and Mrs Barrington could possibly be, but by the time the train pulled into Paddington Station, they still hadn’t come to any firm conclusions.

They took the tube to Leicester Square, emerged into the sunlight and went in search of Soho Square. As they made their way through the West End, Giles became so distracted by the bright neon lights and shop windows full of goods he’d never seen before that Harry occasionally had to remind him why they’d actually come to London.

When they reached Soho Square, neither of them could have missed the steady flow of bedraggled men, women and children, heads bowed, shuffling in and out of a vast building on the far side of the square.

The two young men dressed in blazers, grey flannels and ties looked strangely incongruous as they entered the building and followed the arrows directing them to the third floor. Several of the refugees stood to one side to allow them to pass, assuming they must be there on official business.

Giles and Harry joined the long queue outside the director’s office, and might have been there for the rest of the day if a secretary had not come out and spotted them. She walked straight up to Harry and asked if he had come to see Captain Tarrant.

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘He’s an old friend.’

‘I know,’ said the woman. ‘I recognized you immediately.’

‘How?’ asked Harry.

‘He has a photograph of you on his desk,’ she said. ‘Follow me. Captain Tarrant will be delighted to see you.’

Old Jack’s face lit up when the two boys – he should stop thinking of them as boys, they were now young men – walked into his office. ‘It’s good to see you both,’ he said, jumping up from behind his desk to greet them. ‘So who are you running away from this time?’ he added with a smile.

‘My father,’ said Giles quietly.

Old Jack crossed the room, closed the door and sat the two young men down on an uncomfortable sofa. He drew up a chair and listened carefully as they told him everything that had happened since they’d seen him at the play the previous evening.

‘I saw your father leave the theatre, of course,’ said Old Jack, ‘but it would never have crossed my mind he could treat your mother and sister quite so appallingly.’

‘Do you have any idea where they might be, sir?’ asked Giles.

‘No. But if I had to guess, I’d say they were staying with your grandfather.’

‘No, sir, I spent the morning with Grandpa, and even he doesn’t know where they are.’

‘I didn’t say which grandfather,’ said Jack.

‘Lord Harvey?’ said Harry.

‘That would be my bet,’ said Jack. ‘They’d feel safe with him, and confident that Barrington would think twice before going after them.’

‘But Grandpa has at least three homes that I’m aware of,’ said Giles. ‘So I wouldn’t know where to begin looking.’

‘How stupid of me,’ said Harry. ‘I know exactly where he is.’

‘You do?’ said Giles. ‘Where?’

‘At his country estate in Scotland.’

‘You sound very certain,’ said Jack.

‘Only because last week he dropped Emma a line to explain why he wouldn’t be able to attend the school play. It seems he always spends December and January in Scotland. But I’m damned if I can remember the address.’

‘Mulgelrie Castle, near Mulgelrie, Highlands,’ said Giles.

‘Most impressive,’ said Jack.

‘Not really, sir. It’s just years of Mama making me write thank-you letters to all my relations on Boxing Day. But as I’ve never been to Scotland, I haven’t got a clue where it is.’

Old Jack got up and removed a large atlas from the bookshelf behind his desk. He looked up Mulgelrie in the index, flicked over several pages and then laid it on the desk in front of him. Running a finger from London to Scotland, he said, ‘You’ll have to take the overnight sleeper to Edinburgh, and then change to a local train for Mulgelrie.’

‘I don’t think we’ve got enough money left for that,’ said Harry, checking his wallet.

‘Then I’ll have to issue you both with rail warrants, won’t I?’ said Jack. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a large buff-coloured pad and tore off two forms. He filled them in, signed and stamped them. ‘After all,’ he added, ‘you are clearly stateless refugees in search of a home.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Giles.

‘One last word of advice,’ said Old Jack as he rose from behind his desk. ‘Hugo Barrington is not a man who likes to be crossed, and while I’m fairly confident he won’t do anything to annoy Lord Harvey, that doesn’t necessarily apply to you, Harry. So be on your guard until you’re safely inside Mulgelrie Castle. Should you at any time come across a man with a limp,’ he added, ‘be wary of him. He works for Giles’s father. He’s clever and resourceful, but more important, he has no allegiance to anyone except his paymaster.’

39

Giles and Harry were directed to another third-class carriage, but they were both so tired that despite the frequent opening and closing of carriage doors during the night, the clattering of the wheels over points and the regular blast of the train’s whistle, they slept soundly.

Giles woke with a start as the train pulled into Newcastle a few minutes before six. He looked out of the window to be greeted by a dull grey day and the sight of lines of soldiers waiting to board the train. A sergeant saluted a second lieutenant who didn’t look much older than Giles and asked, ‘Permission to board the train, sir?’ The young man returned his salute and replied in a softer voice, ‘Carry on, sergeant,’ and the soldiers began to file on to the train.

The ever-present threat of war, and the question of whether he and Harry would be in uniform before they had the chance to go up to Oxford, was never far from Giles’s mind. His uncle Nicholas, whom he’d never met, an officer just like the young man on the platform, had led a platoon of soldiers and been cut down at Ypres. Giles wondered what would be the names of the battlefields that would be commemorated with poppies every year if there was to be another Great War to end all wars.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a passing reflection in the carriage window. He swung round, but the figure was no longer there. Had Captain Tarrant’s warning caused him to overreact, or was it just a coincidence?

Giles looked across at Harry, who was still sound asleep, but then he probably hadn’t slept for the past two nights. As the train shunted into Berwick-on-Tweed, Giles noticed the same man walking past their compartment. Just a glance, and he was gone; no longer a coincidence. Was he checking to see which station they got off at?

Harry finally woke, blinked and stretched his arms. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.

Giles leant over and whispered, ‘I think there’s someone on this train who’s following us.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Harry, suddenly wide awake.

‘I’ve seen the same man pass our carriage once too often.’

‘Tickets please!’

Giles and Harry handed their warrants to the ticket collector. ‘How long does this train stop at each station?’ he asked once the man had clipped them.

‘Now, that all depends on whether we’re runnin’ on time or not,’ he replied a little wearily, ‘but never less than four minutes is the company regulation.’

‘What is the next station?’ asked Giles.

‘Dunbar. We should be there in about thirty minutes. But you’ve both got warrants for Mulgelrie,’ he added before moving on to the next compartment.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Harry.