Listening Valley (25 page)

Bay must be told, of course, but not tonight. Bad news can always wait, thought Tonia…and then she hesitated. Perhaps it was her duty to tell Bay at once. Perhaps it was cowardice that counseled delay. It
is
cowardice, thought Tonia. Bay ought to be told at once. This isn't the sort of bad news that can wait…and I'm the person to tell him. Yes, she was the person; even Retta had realized that. “It will be nice for Bay to hear these things from you,” Retta had cried as she burst wildly out of the door. Nice, thought Tonia in dismay, but all the same she was aware that it would be a good deal nastier for Bay to hear the news from someone else.

Having made up her mind upon this Tonia wasted no more time.

She took two pennies out of her purse and went along to the telephone box at the corner, and, being unversed in this manner of telephoning, she read the rules carefully, lifted the receiver, and inserted the pennies in the slot. She got through to the camp almost immediately and asked for Squadron Leader Coates. Bay must have been quite near the telephone, for he came at once—and Tonia, who had expected a long wait while he was being found, was so startled that she did not know what to say.

“Who's that?” asked Bay, in a sharp, decisive tone, quite unlike his usual voice.

“It's Tonia,” said Tonia faintly.

“Who?”

“Tonia…Butterfingers. I want to see you.”

“Do you mean tonight?” asked Bay's voice in surprised accents.

“Yes.”

“Nothing wrong, is there?”

Tonia hesitated.

“Are you still there?” inquired Bay loudly. “Hallo, Butterfingers, are you there?
Is
anything
the
matter?
”

Tonia found to her dismay that she was dumb. There was an enormous lump in her throat that precluded speech, and she was shaking all over so that she had to lean against the side of the box. It was some moments before she found enough strength to replace the receiver and walk slowly home.

Bay arrived some ten minutes later upon a motorbike. Tonia was upstairs when she heard him come in, and she began to go down. Bay had looked for her downstairs and now he was coming up, so they met halfway.

“What on earth!” exclaimed Bay. “You scared me to death! You're ill!”

“No.”

“You look awful. I'll get the doctor—”

“No, I'm all right—”

“Well,
what
?” asked Bay. “I mean, I ought to be at a lecture, but I just leaped on MacLean's bike. There's something wrong.”

“Yes.” She sat down rather suddenly on the stairs, for her knees felt as if they were made of wet cardboard, and, as the stairs were very steep, this brought her face on a level with Bay's.

“You
are
ill,” said Bay with conviction.

“No, honestly—”

“Tell me, Butterfingers,” said Bay, laying a hand on her knee. “For heaven's sake tell me what's the matter. It can't be as bad as all that—”

“It's Retta,” said Tonia faintly. “Retta's gone.”

“Oh, is that all!” said Bay, with a relieved air. “Well, it's a bit sudden, but she's a sudden sort of person. Good Lord, I thought it was something much worse than that. I suppose she got into one of her rages and scared you,” continued Bay, patting Tonia's knee. “She's a bit of a Tartar when she's roused, but it soon blows over—”

“It isn't that. I mean, she
was
in a rage, but—”

“But what?”

“She said she was married,” replied Tonia in a very low voice.

Bay drew back and leaned against the banisters.

“I'm afraid it's true,” added Tonia. “I mean, there were several things…but of course I never thought…and then—then when she was going away she said she was going to her husband—”

“How funny!” said Bay.

“Not—funny.”

“I think it's damn funny,” declared Bay with a very unmirthful sort of laugh. “I think it's the funniest thing I've heard for months.”

“Let's go downstairs,” said Tonia.

They went downstairs and into the drawing room. The fire was almost dead, which was rather fortunate, for it gave Tonia something to do. She knelt on the hearth rug and began to coax it gently with the bellows. Bay walked to the end of the room and back.

“Why!” said Bay. “I mean, what was the object? She didn't tell you that, I suppose.”

“No. Oh, Bay, I'm sorry…it seems ridiculous to say I'm sorry. It seems futile. I said I was sorry when you lost your pipe!”

“I'm not sorry,” declared Bay. “I'm—angry. I want to know why she set out to make a fool of me.”

“I don't know
anything
,” declared Tonia. “I don't, really. She was just going when I got back. I've been trying to think what could have happened.”

At this moment the door opened and Mrs. Smilie appeared. Tonia was usually quite pleased to see Mrs. Smilie—but not now. It was bad enough to have Bay here, walking up and down the room like a caged lion; Mrs. Smilie's appearance on the scene was the last straw.

“Not now, Mrs. Smilie,” said Tonia. “Perhaps you would come back later if you want to talk to me.”

“There's things I'd like to say,” began Mrs. Smilie, hesitating at the door.

“You know something,” said Bay, looking at her. “Come on, Mrs. Smilie, out with it. Give us the works.”

“It's about Miss Delarge—as she calls herself.”

Bay nodded. “Go on,” he said.

“It wasn't her brother that was here last night; it was her husband,” declared Mrs. Smilie. “They were talking away together as man and wife. They were arguing, too. He was wanting her to come away with him, but she was all for staying on a bit longer and finishing the job.”

“What job?” asked Bay.

“I'm not very sure but maybe this has something to do with it,” and so saying Mrs. Smilie took the piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Bay.

“What's this?” he asked, looking at it in a puzzled way. “It seems to be a sort of map.”

“Umphm, that's what I was thinking myself. A map of Ryddelton and the airfield. Maybe you'll know what the wee red cross means, Mr. Coates.”

“Hell!” exclaimed Bay, gazing at the piece of paper as if it were a viper.

“I thought you might be interested in it,” said Mrs. Smilie.

“This is frightful,” declared Bay. “This is simply appalling. Where on earth did you find it?”

“It was in the pocket of yon woman's trousers. Maybe I shouldn't have rummaged in her pockets, but I just thought I'd have a look—and that's what I found. She was a wee bit put out when I showed her it.”

“But what does it mean?” cried Tonia. “I don't understand. Why did Retta make a map of Ryddelton?”

“Exactly,” agreed Bay in grim tones. “That's what we must find out.”

“Anybody could make a map,” said Tonia earnestly. “I mean, from the wood you can see the whole place spread out and the airfield and everything. There's no harm in that.”

“None whatever,” said Bay. “But there's something in this map that you can't see from the woods…or rather something that looks quite ordinary and uninteresting, but isn't.”

“It'll be your bomb dump,” said Mrs. Smilie in a matter-of-fact voice. “There, where she put the wee red cross. That's what I was thinking. I may be wrong, of course,” added Mrs. Smilie modestly. “It was just an idea I had. Maybe the Germans would like to know the place—and I knew it was important, for she offered me twenty pounds if I'd burn it.”

“Twenty pounds!” cried Tonia.

“She'd have given me more,” said Mrs. Smilie, nodding. “She'd have given pretty well anything to see that wee bit of paper burned.”

“I expect she would,” declared Bay.

“Oh, Bay!” Tonia cried. “You don't mean she was going to give it to the Germans!”

“Sell it, probably,” he replied. “She was always short of money—but we mustn't waste time. It's just possible she's still in Ryddelton, unless she managed to get a train. I must go straight down to the police station—”

“There's no need for that, Mr. Coates,” said Mrs. Smilie comfortably. “You'll just sit down by the fire and take a cup of tea. Sergeant Duncan will be here any minute now.”

“Here!” exclaimed Bay.

Mrs. Smilie nodded. “It was this way,” she said. “I felt bothered about the affair, for it was my blame, you see. If I'd held my tongue and showed you the paper you could have managed the whole affair a lot better. That was what I
should
have done. I saw that when it was too late. Well, I felt pretty bad about it and Alec was out and there was nobody to ask, so when I had gotten my breath a bit I put on my hat and away I went to the police station and told Willie the whole thing, and—”

“Willie?” asked Bay in bewilderment.

“Willie Duncan. He's the sergeant, and he's a sensible man (you'd never think, to talk to him, he was a policeman). We had a wee crack and I showed him the paper. He wanted me to let him keep it but I thought I would just give it you myself…and there he is,” added Mrs. Smilie, as the front doorbell did its usual wild jangle in the back premises. “There's Willie, himself, to see you. I'll just let him in and then I'll infuse the tea. You can send Willie into the kitchen when you've done with him and he'll take his tea with me. It'll be more comfortable for everybody.”

“What a woman!” said Bay in a dazed voice.

Tonia had started to laugh hysterically. “I know it's silly,” she declared, shaking all over and wiping her eyes. “I know there's nothing to laugh at…but I can't help it…somehow.”

“Don't, Butterfingers,” implored Bay, patting her on the back. “Don't shake like that. It's all right—honestly. Don't worry.”

“Bay—”

“Go upstairs,” said Bay wildly. “Go to bed; there's a dear. You look absolutely all in. I'll come and tell you all about it when he's gone.”

***

Mrs. Smilie followed Tonia upstairs and turned down the bed and put on the electric radiator.

“There's a bottle in the bed and you'll just get straight in,” said Mrs. Smilie firmly. “I'll bring you a cup of tea and your supper later.”

“You're a darling,” declared Tonia in rather a shaky voice, and she put her arms around Mrs. Smilie and kissed her (her cheek was hard and smooth like an apple).

“Hoots, that's a silly kind of carry-on,” said Mrs. Smilie, turning away.

Tonia was not in the least put out by this reception of her embrace, for she understood Mrs. Smilie quite well by this time.

“I suppose this is your nightdress,” continued Mrs. Smilie, in scornful tones, as she shook out the pale pink silk garment she had found beneath the pillow. “There's not much warmth in
that.
I prefer flannel, myself.”

It was very comfortable in bed. Tonia was tired—what a long day it had been! She went over the incidents as she lay there with the hot water bottle cuddled in her arms. Breakfast first—that odd conversation with Retta had taken place only this morning, though it felt like a week ago—that odd conversation in which Retta had described the joys of being married to “the dearest one” and had added that her sister had told her about it. If Tonia had had a grain of sense she would have known at the time that it was Retta's own experience and not a secondhand account of someone else's (and all that talk of her sister! That was untrue…Retta had no sister and had never had one). Then, after breakfast, the barely averted row with Mrs. Smilie over the slacks… Queer about the slacks, thought Tonia. Retta had worn them the day she went up to the woods and had met “the nice man” who had told her “interesting things.” This might be important, for it was
that
day she must have sketched the map, and she must have gotten the information she wanted from the man, worming it out of him, perhaps without his knowledge (for she was clever in some ways, though rather foolish in other ways, thought Tonia). The man might have been from the airfield—probably was. What a pity Tonia had not asked Retta about him! Retta had made the little map and put it in her pocket and forgotten about it—what an extraordinary thing to do! Or had she made two maps and given one to Henri? That seemed more probable.

Tonia's thoughts strayed on. She thought of Bay's arrival after lunch and their walk to Dunnian, a walk that should have been enjoyable but somehow or other was very uncomfortable and odd. They had started off well, with Bay's joke about Mrs. Dundas, but soon a silence had fallen and they had been obliged to make trite remarks to break it. “It feels thundery,” Tonia had said, and Bay had replied, “Too cold for thunder.” Then Bay had remarked, “River seems pretty full today,” and Tonia had replied, “It rained in the night.”

Tonia had been thankful when they reached Dunnian, and not only because of the heavy shower that was threatening. The tea party had been very pleasant. First of all, she had talked to Admiral Dunne (Celia's father) and had found him very easy to get on with. He had told her a great deal about old Miss Celia Dunne. Then Captain Dale had gotten hold of her and given back the diary, saying somewhat cryptically that it had made him see things in a different light. Tonia had inquired further and Courtney Dale had replied that that old story about Arthur and Antonia was very, very sad. Courtney looked as if he were going to say more but their conversation was interrupted.

The rain had cleared off for the walk home. Bay and Tonia, Celia and Courtney had all set out together, but after a few minutes they separated into pairs, Celia and Tonia going ahead and the two men coming along behind and carrying on a spirited conversation on the subject of Lend Lease commitments.

“You're very silent,” Celia had declared, linking her arm in Tonia's. “What's the matter with my hundred-years'-old friend, I wonder.”