Mistress of Greyladies (13 page)

Most people didn’t care what happened to such enemy aliens and said good riddance, but the Steins had been kind to Phoebe and she didn’t like to think of them suffering. She knew them well enough to be quite certain they weren’t enemies to her country.

Early in the morning on her day off, Phoebe begged a lift to the station in Swindon from one of the hospital’s suppliers. She’d take a taxi back to the hospital tonight and hang the expense. She didn’t want to linger in the town centre in the cold waiting for buses, because it grew dark early at this time of year. And anyway, buses didn’t run very frequently out to the village near the hospital. The final one left at eight o’clock.

What if Frank happened by and saw her? She shuddered at the mere thought of that. But she’d have to be very unlucky for it to happen.

She arrived at the station a little early and after buying her ticket, went straight to the platform to wait, finding a sheltered corner where she wasn’t immediately visible and keeping her head down to hide her face under her hat brim.

At last the train arrived and she moved out of her hiding place towards the nearest compartment, one at the end of the train. That was when she saw him. Frank. Waiting at the end of the platform at the other side of the line. He had a clear view of her getting into the last compartment of the train, because she couldn’t move any faster. There was a queue of people waiting to board the train.

She saw all too clearly the way Frank’s mouth dropped open in shock when he noticed her. It didn’t take him a minute to react. He turned and began running back along the other platform towards the bridge stairs, intending to cross over to her side of the rails.

She didn’t know what to do, could only get in the compartment and sit praying that the train would leave before he reached it. If not, if he tried to grab her again, she’d yell for help. Surely someone would come to her aid or at least call the guard. They wouldn’t let him drag her off the train.

Heavy doors began to slam shut.

Hurry!
she begged mentally.
Please hurry
.

A whistle blew and the train started to move. ‘Oh, thank heavens!’ she murmured.

As it gathered speed, much too slowly for her liking, she saw Frank reach the platform. He saw her and ran alongside,
trying to open the door of her carriage, because the rear part of the train had not yet left the station.

She thought for one terrible moment that he would succeed, but a porter dragged him back and the train rattled out of his reach.

He threw off the porter, then stood pressing one hand to his chest and shaking the other at her.

She began to calm down, but her heart was still beating faster than usual. Thank heavens she wasn’t wearing her VAD uniform or he’d have had clues about how to find her.

The train rattled along through some beautiful countryside, but apart from an occasional glance out of the window to see where they were, Phoebe didn’t pay much attention to the scenery. She was too worried about how she would get back to the hospital that evening without Frank seeing her.

He’d be waiting, she was sure, checking the trains. He’d have found out where her train was going, too. That would have been easy.

She knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t stop looking now that he thought she was back in Swindon. He’d hunt her down till he found her and then … What? Why could he not leave her alone?

Beaty’s house was like an island of calm after the busy London streets. Phoebe stood still as the maid closed the door, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace and quiet.

‘Phoebe, dear, I’ve asked you twice what’s happened. Something’s obviously upset you.’ Beaty’s voice made her open her eyes again.

‘Sorry. I saw Frank at Swindon station. And he saw me. Luckily I was on a train that was just leaving. But he knows I’m back in Swindon and he’ll be watching out for me from now on, I know he will. He’s like a bulldog when he wants something. Why did they have to station me in Swindon?’

‘Why didn’t you ask to be sent somewhere else?’

‘I didn’t want to make a fuss.’

‘Well, it’s not too late to arrange a transfer, and if you have a good reason, they’ll transfer you quickly.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yes, of course. They’re not unreasonable.’ She put an arm round her guest’s shoulders. ‘Now, come and sit down. What you need is a nice hot cup of tea. We want the colour back in your cheeks before Corin arrives.’

‘Corin’s coming?’ Phoebe asked eagerly, before she could guard her words, and saw that Beaty had noticed.

‘Yes. He’s stationed in London at the moment, seconded to some minor government department or other. Don’t ask me what he’s doing here, because it’s all very hush-hush. But he’s free to have lunch with us today.’

Phoebe abandoned the attempt to sound indifferent. ‘That’ll be lovely.’

Beaty looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Look dear, I’m worried about you. I’ll go and speak to Rosemary Rufford about your situation straight away. Maybe she’ll think of somewhere else to send you once she understands that the problem isn’t of your making.’

‘Would you? I’d be so grateful. I won’t dare go into Swindon again after today. I only hope Frank isn’t waiting for me at the station when I return tonight.’

Beaty looked shocked. ‘You think he’d do that, accost you in public?’

‘I’m sure of it. He had it fixed in his mind that I was going to marry him, even without asking me. I’ve told him I won’t, but he just ignores that, as if I don’t get the choice.’ She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know what went on between men and women. She shuddered at the mere thought of him touching her like that. In fact, she didn’t even like him to touch her hand.

‘You must stay at the hospital and not go anywhere until we can get you transferred.’

‘It might be a bit difficult if they want me to go somewhere with a patient.’

‘Then we must get you transferred quickly. We don’t want to lose a good worker.’ She patted Phoebe’s hand. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you, since you have no family
left. I’ve had excellent reports about your work.’

Phoebe could feel herself blushing. ‘Oh. That’s nice.’

The front doorbell rang just then and they heard Corin’s voice in the hall.

‘We’re in here!’ Beaty called.

He stood in the doorway of the small sitting room and when he saw Phoebe, he ignored his aunt. ‘You’re thinner. Aren’t you well?’

‘I’m very well. They work us hard, but I don’t mind that.’

‘Don’t I get my usual kiss, nephew, dear?’ Beaty demanded.

He smiled at his aunt. ‘Sorry. You know how it is.’

‘I think I do.’ She indicated her cheek and he bent to kiss it, before sitting down. Then she noticed his change of status. ‘Corin, darling! They’ve promoted you. Major McMinty, no less. How grand that sounds.’

‘It’s still the same old me.’ But his eyes were on the younger woman as he said that.

‘Phoebe’s got a problem.’

‘It doesn’t matter now, Beaty,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I don’t want to spoil the lunch.’

‘It does matter, dear. You must always pay attention to your enemies.’ Beaty turned back to her nephew. ‘She was seen at Swindon station today by that Frank person, the brute you rescued her from the first time you met. Luckily the train was just leaving, so he couldn’t get to her.’

‘Did he threaten you?’

‘I’d not have heard him if he did, but he shook his fist. I’m afraid he’ll trace me and … I don’t know what he’d do. Luckily, I wasn’t wearing my uniform.’

‘You need to ask for an
immediate
transfer.’

Beaty nodded. ‘There! Didn’t I tell you? And you need
some way to get back safely tonight.
Not
, I think, by train.’

‘Definitely not,’ Corin said firmly. ‘Look, I have something to do in Wiltshire tomorrow morning. I could drive you down tonight, Phoebe, and find myself a bed somewhere.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.’

‘I volunteered to help you. And I’d be glad of your company on the drive down.’

Beaty sat watching them, smiling smugly. ‘I shall go and see Rosemary at once about getting Phoebe transferred. I’ll have to miss our lunch, I’m afraid, because it’s the best time to catch her.’

Corin smiled. ‘I’ll take her to lunch, then. All right with you, Phoebe?’

She nodded. More than all right, as far as she was concerned.

‘I was hoping you would take over for me, Corin, since she’s come all the way from Wiltshire to see us. We can’t leave her wandering about town on her own, can we?’ Beaty looked at the clock. ‘I need to leave now, I’m afraid.’

‘We’ll go too. I’ll bring her back after lunch.’

‘Not till at least two o’clock.’

‘I think we can stand each other’s company until then.’

Once they were out of the house, Corin offered her his arm and they began to stroll along the street. He glanced sideways and saw a curtain twitch and guessed his aunt was watching them. He didn’t care. He was happy to have Phoebe to himself.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked as they turned the corner.

‘Mind what?’

‘Beaty throwing us together. It was deliberate, I’m sure.’

Phoebe gave him one of her glorious smiles. ‘I don’t mind at all.’

He squeezed her hand at that response. It was reddened with hard work, the nails short and practical. Most things about her were practical, not fussy, and he preferred that.

Some of the things the women they passed were wearing these days looked so silly: skirts draped into strange, geometrical folds, and some skirts so tight at the ankles their wearers had to hobble along like old women. Some had buttons they let out to make the skirts wider, which added to the stupidity. Why not make them wider in the first place? And – one of the things that particularly irritated him for some reason – they were wearing hats with large bunches of feathers sticking out at strange angles.

Phoebe wasn’t wearing a silly hat, or a too-tight skirt. She was striding along beside him as if she enjoyed walking. It was a pleasure to have her by his side.

‘Here we are.’

She hesitated. ‘It looks expensive.’

‘They do good food, and it’s convenient.’ He opened the restaurant door and she had no choice but to go inside.

It touched him that she didn’t want him to spend his money on her.

Phoebe saw several other officers sitting in the restaurant, but though Corin nodded to one, he didn’t go across to speak to him. Once the two of them were seated at a table in a corner, she leant towards him and said, ‘The officers look very smart, don’t they?’

‘Yes. That one’s a captain and that one is—’

She laughed. ‘It’s all right. We VADs have learnt to recognise the various ranks.’

‘I should have realised. I’ve had other civilians say that.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t do to offend someone by giving them the wrong rank. I feel a bit sorry for the other men, though. Their dark suits look so dull against the military smartness.’

He looked down at himself in surprise. ‘I suppose it is quite smart.’

‘Definitely. Am I allowed to ask why you’re coming down to Wiltshire, Corin?’

‘I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’ He took the menus their waitress was offering. ‘Let’s order, then we can chat in peace.’

Phoebe saw the waitress give him an admiring look, and felt a sudden spurt of jealousy. She was glad when the young woman walked away. Then she looked at the menu and gasped. ‘Look at the prices! Corin, you shouldn’t have brought me to such an expensive place.’

‘I like the food here.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And I can well afford it. Please don’t stint yourself. Choose something you really like.’

She looked across at him. Did he read her so easily? She’d have chosen the cheapest dishes on the menu. ‘You order, then. I don’t recognise the names of half these dishes. They’re in French, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, they are. All right.’ He checked that Phoebe liked a couple of items, then beckoned the waitress across and placed their order. ‘Are you enjoying the VAD work?’

She shrugged. ‘Not the work itself, which is very … rough sometimes. But I like to think I’m doing my bit to help my country.’ She began to tell him about some of the more amusing things the VADs had had to face, like putting together their own beds that first day.

‘Most of the others had never held a hammer before, let alone used one,’ she ended.

‘And you had?’

‘I looked after my mother and we couldn’t afford to pay for help, so I did the minor repairs round the house. There’s always something going wrong in an old cottage. I wouldn’t say I’m
good
at fixing things, but I manage better than most women.’

Their soup arrived just then, oxtail with lovely crusty rolls, so conversation lagged as they both did justice to it.

While they waited for the next course, Corin said, ‘Tell me the details of your encounter with this Frank person.’

She shivered. ‘I don’t want to spoil today by talking about
him
.’

‘You must. We mustn’t let him think he can get away with threatening you. What does he do for a living?’

‘I’m not quite sure. He always tells his parents he buys and sells things. When they ask what, he says, “This and that”. But when I called on him at his house in Swindon to ask for help in moving the Steins’ furniture, it wasn’t a shop, and the door was opened by a woman who was … she looked … Well, not a very nice sort of person. The sort who walks the streets.’

‘Hmm. Perhaps he’s a petty thief. And a pimp.’

‘I don’t know what a pimp is.’

He didn’t pretend. She was no wilting flower. ‘A man who sells the use of women’s bodies to other men.’

‘Oh. I didn’t realise … but it could be. Oh, how awful.’

‘He could be a thief as well.’

She couldn’t protest that Corin was wrong, because somehow the words both seemed to fit Frank. ‘Yes. That’s quite likely. He certainly doesn’t have any decency or morals. I knew that already, but the way he treated me was
dreadful … as if I was just an object to pick up and take. His mother would be so upset if he was breaking the law. Janet’s a very decent sort.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘I know where he used to live. He may still be there.’

‘Give me his address. I’ll ask a friend who’s in the police to keep an eye on him.’

‘All right.’ She watched him write various pieces of information down on a little notepad set in an embossed leather case, then put it back into his breast pocket.

‘Let’s talk about more pleasant things now, like the letters you’re going to write to me.’

She couldn’t resist teasing. Just a little. ‘Oh. Am I?’

‘Definitely. We’re both going to write very regularly,’ he said with mock fierceness, then his voice softened. ‘If we can’t be together in person, then we can be together in thoughts and spirit … Don’t you think?’

‘I’d like that very much.’

After lunch they walked slowly back to Beaty’s, chatting away.

‘How did it go?’ Corin asked his aunt at once.

‘Rosemary understood perfectly, and she’ll find you somewhere within a week or two. She suggests you don’t leave the hospital, or even walk in its grounds on your own.’

‘I’ll be careful. Thank you so much.’

When Corin went off to pack and bring his car round, Phoebe said, ‘He shouldn’t be wasting his valuable time driving me home. He has more important things to do.’

‘Let him take care of you. He’s that sort of person. You can always rely on our Corin. After all, we don’t want you getting attacked on your way home, do we? Did you enjoy your luncheon?’

‘Oh, yes. Corin’s so easy to talk to and the food was absolutely delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like it.’

She knew why Beaty was asking, of course she did, but she pretended not to understand the hidden questions behind the casual questions. If Corin remained interested in her, it’d be as if all her dreams had come true. If he wrote … If they got to know one another … perhaps it might.

But Phoebe didn’t dare trust in that. Dreams had a way of vanishing as quickly as a soap bubble. Well, hers did. And at the moment, with a war on, all sorts of people’s lives were being turned upside down.

Hers might be too.

And Corin was a soldier. He might even be killed.

She shook her head vigorously. No. She mustn’t even think of that.

To Phoebe’s astonishment, Corin returned in a large car with a driver. Only, the latter wasn’t in military uniform and he didn’t look quite like a chauffeur, either. He had a wary, watchful expression on his face, and he looked physically strong. More like a bodyguard.

After kissing his aunt goodbye, Corin handed Phoebe into the back of the car and joined her there.

She felt a bit embarrassed to chat about personal matters with the driver sitting so close. ‘Your car’s … um, very comfortable.’

‘Should be. It’s a Standard Landaulette: 20 horsepower, six-cylinder.’ Corin patted the side panel affectionately. ‘My uncle on my father’s side had only just bought it when the war started. He said if it was good enough for B-P, it was good enough for him.’

‘B-P?’

‘Lord Baden-Powell.’

‘The man who founded the Scouts movement? Even I’ve heard of him.’ She leant back, watching the countryside flash by. ‘It’s a lovely car. I don’t know how your uncle could bear to part with it.’

‘Oh, he has others. But he donated this to my current department when I moved there, because Mr Brookes said it would be useful to have a few motor cars – a patriotic gesture, as it were. My new boss has a way of getting things done or acquiring the items he needs. He’s amazing.’