Dead Ground in Between (24 page)

It was all so darn romantic, except that he tripped over one of his shoes and they both crashed to the ground. Edie tried desperately to suppress her laughter.

“Shush,” whispered Angelo. “Somebody will hear us.”

“Just the cows, and they won't mind.”

He got to his feet and pulled her up into his arms.

“Perhaps I'd better walk,” she said.

“No. I carry you. I will carry you across the threshold as if we are man and wife.”

“Shouldn't we have a ceremony first?” she said.

He took both her hands in his. “Do you, Edith, take me, Angelo, to be your lover and husband in the eyes of God, forever and eternally till death us do part?”

“I do.”

Perfectly on cue, Clover bellowed.

“I think she approves,” said Edie.

Angelo swung her up and carried her over to the cot, laid her down gently, and stretched out beside her.

“I have a poem I have made for you.”

“Say it to me.”

His finger moved along her chin. “
Lost in your land, Your strange territories, I search your face for messages, Try to trace a path there
.”

“Sounds like you're talking about a spy,” said Edie.

“No. No. It is that I am in wonder and bewilderment at how strange and wonderful you are to me. I wish to know you as well as…as well as I know my own mother.”

She giggled. “Your mother! That is about as romantic as a cold cup of tea.”

He looked hurt. “I am sorry. My English is bad. I simply wished to convey to you that I have come to love you. You
have come to my bed. I have dreamed this for weeks and now you are here.”

“We'd better get on with it then. I can't stay too long.”

“I wish to do everything properly.”

“I'll help you if you like,” said Edie.

But it turned out she didn't have to.

Nuala was holding a piece of paper in her hand and she showed it to him. “Inspector. The boys have taken off. They left this note. I just got home but I think they left some time ago. I went straight to the school and Miss Lindsay said they hadn't been there all day.”

Tyler unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, childishly round. “
Dear Mrs. Keogh. We are relokating to London. We want to speak to Queen Wilhelmina about Mamma and Pappa. We hope she will help us find them. Do not worry. We will write as soon as we have settalled ourselves. Your obediant servants, Jan and Pim
.”

“How the heck were they going to get themselves to London?”

“I don't know. I asked myself the same question. They each had a piggy bank and I encouraged them to save money when they could. Both banks have been opened and the money is gone. But as far as I know the most they could have is about five or six shillings between them. Not exactly enough to get them to London on the train.”

Tyler tried to reassure her. “I'm sure when they realize that they'll come home.”

“I hope so. It's just that the weather is so bad and they've had this awful experience. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to them.”

“Look, why don't you walk down to the train station?” He turned to Mortimer. “Will you go with Mrs. Keogh? Ask the station master if he's seen the boys. Report back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nuala Keogh managed to pull out a smile. “Thank you, Inspector. And if they haven't been at the station, what then?”

“Did they take the bike?”

She bit her lip. “I don't know. It's usually kept in the shed. I was so upset, I didn't think to look.”

“All right. If there's no word at the train station, check on the bike. We'll take it one step at a time.”

The two women set off across the car park to the street.

Tyler beckoned to Biggs. “You'd better stick around after all, Constable. Little monkeys. I'll give them a piece of my mind when we find them. Poor woman is worried sick.”

“They probably need a father, sir.”

Tyler winced. “Good point, Biggs.”

But these days, fathers were becoming as scarce a commodity as pork chops.

The paraffin heater didn't seem to be making much headway with warming up the hideout. Jan wished he'd hadn't given in to his brother and that they'd brought a blanket with them.

“Are you hungry?” he asked Pim. “I could open the beans and heat them up. There's a saucepan here. We can have them with some dried eggs.”

Pim sneezed violently. Then again. And again.

“I'm getting a c-cold,” he muttered.

“No, you're not, it's just the mildew. It'll be better soon. So, do you want me to make your tea or not?”

“I want to go h-home, Jan. I d-don't like it here.”

The tip of his nose was red and his eyes were swimming. Perhaps he
was
getting a cold. But Pim was right. The dark hideout was damp and smelly, as if an animal had done its business there. Jan had lit the oil lamp but it was flickering and dim. Soldiers sometimes had to give up on a mission. He knew that. They'd talked about it at a Scout meeting. No shame in that. Better to get out and live to fight another day.

“All right. Have it your way. We'll go home for tonight and leave in –”

He was interrupted by a loud crash overhead. A rain of dust and dirt fell from the ceiling.

“What the hell was that?” cried Jan.

He clambered up the ladder as fast as he could. But when he tried to lift the trap door it wouldn't budge. He shoved again, hard, and opened it up just a crack.

“Weeping Jesus. There's a bloody tree fallen across the entry.”

Pim let out a wail.

“Come and help me,” yelled Jan.

Pim squeezed himself up beside his brother and they both pushed at the trap door.

In vain. It wouldn't budge.

“Shall we shout f-for somebody?” Pim asked.

“You know there's nobody anywhere close,” snapped Jan. “That's why the hideout was built here.”

“What shall we do?” Pim whimpered.

Jan didn't answer. He had no idea how they were going to get out.

Nuala and Mortimer returned after about half an hour. Both of them were wet and cold, and Tyler could tell by the expression on Nuala's face that they'd had no luck.

“The station master is definite that they didn't try to get on a train. We came back by way of my house and the bike is missing.”

“Anything else?”

Nuala nodded. “Constable Mortimer suggested I check their room and see if they had taken anything.”

“And?”

“They took their latest comic. They also took some bread from the pantry – half a loaf, I believe – along with a tin of beans, a tin of condensed milk, a tin of salmon, and some powdered eggs. Won't sustain them for long but clearly they intend to camp out for a while. Where on earth could they be?”

Tyler grimaced. “Mrs. Keogh, what I have to tell you must be kept secret.”

She nodded solemnly.

As succinctly as he could, Tyler explained about the Auxiliary Units and the hideouts that they had built.

“It looks like the boys have been using at least one of these hideouts on a regular basis.”

She absorbed the information for a few moments, then she said, “Please, let's check them.”

“We only know of one at the moment. That's where they discovered Mr. Cartwright's body.”

“But there might be more?”

“Probably. I'm going to Shrewsbury this afternoon to see if the chief constable will release information to me. It's still top secret.”

Nuala clenched her jaw. “All this skulduggery is more than I can stand. What if my boys have got into some trouble? I tell you, Inspector, I'm frightened. They're no match for men trained to kill.”

“I'll move as fast as I can,” said Tyler. He addressed Mortimer. “I want you and Biggs to go to the bunker where
Mr. Cartwright died, just in case the boys have gone back there. Mrs. Keogh, do you want to go with them?”

“Of course.”

“Constable, you can take the Austin. I'm catching the four o'clock train to Shrewsbury. I'd like you to telephone the police station there as soon as you get back from Bitterley and let me know what's happened, if anything.”

A gust of wind rattled the windows. Nuala shuddered.

“Silly, silly boys. They're going to be so cold out there.”

Jan had finally agreed they should at least try to call for help. He opened the trap door as far as it would go and the two of them shouted at the top of their voices. Nothing came back to them except the rush of the wind in the trees and the splatter of the rain.

“There'll be people out in the morning,” said Jan. “Let's have something to eat. That'll make us feel better.”

But his brother went over to the cot and dropped on to it, face down.

“What if nobody f-finds us, Jan?”

“Course they will. We have to think like Scouts. They can survive for months on end on almost nothing.”

“I have to pee.”

Jan looked around the tiny space. “There's no bucket in here. Just go over to the corner and do it there.”

“What if I need to do number two?”

“You can't. You'll have to hold it.”

The paraffin heater didn't seem to be giving out much heat. Jan touched the side. It was lukewarm. Quickly he unscrewed the lid on the oil reservoir. There was about a
quarter of a tank left. Enough for now. He didn't know what was wrong with the damn thing.

“Come on, Pimmie. We'll have our tea. We've got bread. We can have some salmon.”

“I thought we were going to have some b-beans and eggs.”

Jan forced himself to be patient. He was the leader, and a leader didn't lose their temper with the pack. Besides, making himself be calm kept some of the terror at bay.

“The heater is on the fritz. Salmon is better cold.” He opened the tin of salmon and scooped some out onto the bread. “Here,” he said to his brother.

Pim took the slice of bread and ate it quickly. “Can I have another p-piece?”

Jan shook his head. “No, we've got to ration it. Have a drink of water.”

Pim howled suddenly like a feral creature. “I f-forgot to fill the bottles. We don't have any water.”

For once the train was on time. The platform was crowded; most of the passengers were soldiers in uniform, going who knew where. Home on leave? To another posting? A scattering of women in the uniforms of their various armed services mixed in with the crowd. Several women in civilian clothes were there to say goodbye to the men.

Tyler headed for a carriage, squeezing himself past a couple locked in an ardent embrace. The woman was young, dark-haired. She reminded him of Janet. In a reversal of the typical scene, she was the one in military uniform, the Auxiliary Territorial Service. The young man was in civvies.

Tyler took his seat by the window in a compartment that
was almost full. The guard blew the warning whistle and the couple broke away from each other. The young woman hurriedly got into Tyler's carriage and the guard slammed the door shut. She immediately turned, lowered the window, and leaned out so she could touch her sweetheart's hand. She was weeping openly; he looked teary himself.

The whistle sounded again and, with a shrill blast of steam, the train wheels began to turn and the train started to pull away.

“Bye. Bye. Write to me,” called the young woman.

Tyler was afraid she might fall out of the window, she was leaning out so far. All along the platform people were waving goodbye, many of them keeping pace with the train as it gathered speed. The man in civvies was one of them, and he continued until the train pulled out of the station completely and the platform ended. The girl waved and waved until the track curved away with much shaking and swaying so that she lost her balance. She virtually fell into Tyler's lap.

“I'm so sorry,” she said.

He raised his hat politely. “That's quite all right.”

However, the middle-aged man seated directly across from him scowled. He had a thin, pale face that looked as if it hadn't seen the sun, or any joy, for a long, long time.

“I recommend you take your seat, young lady. You're going to do somebody some damage if you're not careful.”

“I'm sorry,” she said again, and she sat down at once next to Tyler.

With palpable irritation, the pale man stood and pulled the window closed.

“We should try to conserve what little bit of heat they allow us, don't you think?” he muttered.

The other occupants had observed this exchange with great interest, but now they reverted to English good manners and pretended to ignore it. The two soldiers in the far corners both took out letters and began to peruse them studiously. Next to the younger of the two was a grandmotherly woman who reached into her knitting bag and took out her needles. As far as Tyler could determine, she was knitting a pair of socks.

The situation reminded Tyler of the time he'd been caught in a bombing raid in Birmingham and had to go into a bomb shelter. He'd been with those people, those strangers, for eleven hours. They'd sung and told stories, and it had ended up actually being an enjoyable night, even with bombs exploding all around them. However, the occupants of this carriage didn't seem inclined to relate to each other at all.

The young
ATS
woman pulled a compact out of her handbag and snapped it open. She examined her reflection carefully in the mirror.

“I look a mess,” she said to nobody in particular as she straightened her cap.

Tyler felt impelled to answer. “You look just fine,” he said, in what he hoped was an avuncular tone of voice. She was indeed very pretty, with a fresh complexion and blue eyes, only slightly dimmed by tears.

She gave him a brief smile. “I hate goodbyes, don't you?” she said.