The Darkest Hour (37 page)

‘I didn’t tell Mike I had an oil painting by Evie Lucas and now he thinks I have been lying to him because I kept it from him. Christopher found out first and is furious and he told Mike.’ She looked down at her hands, linked together on her lap.

‘So, this picture is why Christopher is so angry and wants to stop you writing about Evie?’ Juliette asked slowly. ‘I’ve just been to see Frances. Poor love, she is terrorised by that man.’ She pushed her bangles up her wrists in a businesslike way. ‘But I’m not sure how you two fit in?’ She glanced at Maggie. ‘Am I being obtuse?’

‘It appears that the painting is at the centre of some kind of psychic attack. Huw and Maggie have come over to help me deal with it.’ Lucy gave a helpless smile at Juliette who was staring at her open-mouthed.

‘For the first time in my life I am speechless,’ Juliette said at last. ‘I take it you are all being perfectly serious?’

Maggie leaned across and put her hand over Juliette’s. ‘Lucy has been in great distress. She needs your support.’

‘And she will have it.’ Juliette said firmly.

‘I didn’t mean to lie to Mike,’ Lucy said in anguish. ‘It has all got so complicated. I so nearly told you. I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know which way to turn.’

‘Can I see the painting?’ Juliette asked. She glanced at Huw, who was sitting next to his wife in silence. The Bible was still clutched between his fingers.

‘I was too frightened to let it stay here,’ Lucy replied. ‘Awful things were happening. Robin, my assistant in the gallery, has taken it away and hidden it somewhere safe. The picture was being attacked by someone. Something. That’s why Huw and Maggie have come over.’

‘My God!’ Juliette looked taken aback for a moment, then she smiled. ‘I remember Maggie in the old days. She was always doing the Tarot cards and crystals. But Huw?’

‘Huw has come to pray for Ralph’s soul. You remember you told me Mike’s father was haunted by him?’

Juliette paled. ‘It never occurred to me that this had affected other people. I thought it was just Johnny.’

‘Would you rather go, now you know the situation?’ Lucy smiled sadly.

‘No way.’ Juliette said. ‘I am part of this. Or I think I am. And, Lucy,’ she paused, looking Lucy in the eyes, ‘I think it’s up to you to tell Mike about this painting. I think you should do it soon, but I won’t say anything until you’re ready, OK? And I would like to stay, as long as you don’t think I will be in the way. I’d like to think that I might be able to help in some way. I am not psychic, but I firmly believe in these things. I couldn’t have lived with Johnny all those years and not have felt that it was all terribly real, at least for him. I never saw anything, but he did. I know he did.’

‘Perhaps Maggie and I should go back into the studio, Lucy,’ Huw put in at last. ‘To say a final prayer.’

They stood up. Maggie reached over and touched Lucy’s hand gently. ‘It will be all right,’ she whispered.

When they were alone Lucy looked at Juliette. ‘I’m not afraid, not when there are other people here. But when I’m on my own –’

‘I don’t blame you.’ Juliette pushed her bangles up her wrists with a sigh. ‘And you must come and stay with me. You can’t stay here.’ She raised her hand as Lucy started to protest, then she interrupted herself. ‘But Ralph would never harm anyone, I’m sure he wouldn’t.’

Lucy sighed. ‘I don’t think it’s Ralph,’ she whispered.

They both looked at the studio door. Huw had left it ajar and they could hear voices talking softly.

‘He’s praying,’ Lucy murmured.

Juliette nodded.

‘It’s kind of you to ask me to stay,’ Lucy went on. ‘But I want to stay here. I have to stay here. I don’t know if you can understand, but this is my home. I am not going to let them chase me away.’

Behind them the phone rang.

Lucy turned towards it. She hesitated then picked it up.

‘Lucy!’ It was Robin. ‘Something terrible has happened. The storehouse where we left the painting. It’s caught fire.’

‘You did know Tony took one of the WAAFs to a dance last night?’ Eddie dropped the remark casually into the conversation.

‘What?’ Evie dropped the potato knife into the sink and stared at him, her hands dripping with muddy water. He was seated at the kitchen table, his briefcase beside him on the floor.

‘I was surprised, I must say.’ He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, his face carefully neutral. ‘He seems to have got over his relationship with you very quickly.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘I assume he has stopped creeping around you in the middle of the night, or is he still pretending you are the only woman in his life?’

‘I don’t believe you!’ Her face was white.

He hesitated before replying. ‘Maybe I got it wrong. I probably misheard –’

‘No! You told me deliberately to upset me!’ She reached across to the roller towel on the back of the door.

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘You did.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Why have you come? Haven’t you got work to do?’

‘I have, Evie, yes.’ He adopted an infuriatingly conciliatory tone. ‘I needn’t have come but I felt I had to. I wanted to make sure you are all right. I care about you.’ He looked away. When she made no response he stood up and bent to retrieve his briefcase. ‘I brought you some money from the gallery. They’ve done well with some of your sketches. If you have any more I could take them –’

‘I haven’t. I’ve had too much on my mind to do any drawing. Or painting. What’s the point? It’s hardly helping the war effort!’

‘Evie.’ He looked seriously concerned now. ‘But haven’t you had a new commission?’

‘I’m not in the mood.’ She almost stamped her foot.

‘Ah, now that is childish. If you don’t behave like a responsible adult you won’t get any more,’ he said furiously. ‘I worked very hard to get you that contract, Evie. If you mess it up I will look a complete fool.’

‘You will look a fool?’ She headed for the door. ‘And how will I look if Tony has been taking other girls to dances?’

She had gone before he could answer, slamming the door behind her.

‘What did you say to her?’ Rachel must have been standing in the hall. She came in, her arms full of dirty overalls and threw them down into the basket on the floor near the sink. ‘Eddie, you never seem to learn!’

He was standing staring after Evie. ‘No.’ He looked crestfallen. ‘I’m a fool. She will come round, though, won’t she?’ They both looked up at the ceiling as the sound of aircraft approached from the south. Rachel opened the back door and went out into the yard.

‘They’re heading for Portsmouth.’ Eddie had followed her, squinting up into the sun. ‘My God, there are hundreds of them.’

‘There are our boys now.’ Rachel bit her lip. Was Ralph up there? They stood watching as the tight-packed formation of German bombers with their fighter escort thundered high along the coast. Then the fighter squadrons were there, Spitfires and Hurricanes on their tail, breaking the formation, harrying the enemy, smashing their lines, the vapour trails all that could be seen now as they climbed out of sight, lacing the sky with deceptively delicate patterns.

Eddie glanced at Rachel. ‘He’ll be all right,’ he said with surprising gentleness. ‘Ralph is a damn good pilot.’

She nodded wordlessly. Behind them Dudley and one of the land girls had appeared, the dogs at their heels, walking across the paddock. Both stopped to look up, then they walked on. The sight had become commonplace. There was work to do.

Dudley waited until he could hear Rachel breathing evenly in bed beside him, then he eased himself carefully from their bed. He had left his clothes in a pile on the chair. Catching them up he tiptoed to the door and holding his breath he inched it open. The landing was draughty and the night cold as he dressed in the dark and crept in his socks down the stairs. His boots were by the kitchen door, his jacket on the hook. He glanced down at the two dogs which, tails wagging, had materialised out of the dark as he entered the kitchen and with a stern snap of the fingers sent them back to their blanket in the corner. There was no place for them where he was going.

He had been approached several weeks before as the threat of invasion became ever greater, by two neighbouring farmers. There were five of them now in the Auxiliary Unit; five local men in reserved occupations who were, as far as the locals knew, now members of the Local Defence Volunteers. What even their wives didn’t know was that these particular men, meeting secretly at night at a hidden base, had been taught how to handle weapons, and had been given instruction in the art of sabotage and demolition. Like Dudley, the others had been born and bred in the area. They knew it like the backs of their hands. In the event of an invasion they would be ready, not just to defend their homes against the enemy but to take the battle to them. They were part of a secret army, with hidden dumps of weapons and supplies. They had been trained to kill and if necessary to die rather than divulge their secrets. And their discretion was guaranteed by the signing of the Official Secrets Act. They were to tell no one what they were doing, not even their immediate families.

Dudley glanced at his watch as he walked silently across the yard. He was late for their rendezvous. Rachel had been up until past midnight, and then as so often, too tired to sleep when at last she did go to bed. He gave a grim smile. Never mind. If he missed the start of the cross-country exercise they were planning for tonight it would be up to him to track the others down. Good practice.

He stopped suddenly as he heard a sound in the lane. Someone was out there in the dark. He shrank back into the shadows, edging along the side of the house and round the front, straining his eyes into the deeper black of the hedgerow as he heard the quiet squeak of the gate hinges.

Bending almost double he ran quickly across the yard and was on the man as he turned to close the gate after him. His hand groped for the mouth to silence him and he dragged him backwards towards the dairy, hearing the frantic scrabble of heels as his captive tried to regain his balance and fight back. Pulling him into the dairy he slammed his opponent against the wall and pinioning him with his elbow he groped in his pocket for his torch.

The wavering beam was trained for a moment on the intruder’s face. It was Tony, eyes wide and frightened as he leaned against the wall, panting.

‘My God, boy, what are you doing here?’ Dudley let him go. ‘Do you know how near I came to breaking your neck?’

Tony nodded, still gasping. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry!’ Dudley reached forward and grabbed the front of Tony’s battledress, pulling him away from the wall. ‘You will be a great deal sorrier if you can’t give me a good reason for being here. I hope you were not expecting to meet my daughter!’

Tony put his hands up and as firmly as he could disengaged Dudley’s fists. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, trying to catch his breath. ‘We are so busy it isn’t possible to get here in the daytime to see her.’ He paused, suddenly realising what he had said. ‘She didn’t know I was coming. You mustn’t blame her.’

‘And how did you expect to see her?’ Dudley’s face was growing more angry by the second. ‘She is asleep.’

Tony shook his head. ‘I was going to throw stones at her window. We wouldn’t have done anything wrong. Just a quick talk.’ He looked at Dudley hopefully.

‘Forget it!’ Dudley switched off the torch. ‘Go now. Before I get really angry. Go, and never come back here again, do you hear me? Leave Evie alone. I hear nothing but bad reports of you and her. She is not for you, boy, understood?’ He sensed rather than saw the disbelief in Tony’s eyes as the young man began to protest. ‘Out!’ he ordered. ‘Out now and don’t come back.’ He reached again for Tony’s arm and propelled him out of the dairy into the yard. ‘Go! Before I set the dogs on you!’

Tony let himself out of the gate and stumbled back down the lane to where he had left the bike lying in the hedge. He glanced back once, but the yard behind him was silent and the house still in total darkness. He gave a grim smile. He could have got Dudley for flashing a torch around in the blackout if he had thought of it. Thank God Evie’s dad hadn’t caught him inside the house. Then there really would have been hell to pay. He took a deep breath. Poor Evie. He hoped her dad wouldn’t make trouble for her tomorrow. He had said she didn’t know anything about him coming, but that wasn’t quite true. She expected him every night. Expected and hoped. He had only managed to come up to the farm two or three times, but when he had it had been worth it! He gave a quick secret smile at the memory of creeping up the stairs in the dark, letting himself into her bedroom, listening for a few seconds to the soft murmuring sounds she sometimes made in her sleep before undressing and sliding quietly into the bed beside her to wake her with his kisses.

Gripping the handlebars he was about to vault onto the saddle when he paused thoughtfully. What had Dudley been doing out in the yard at this time of night, anyway? It had been incredible bad luck, but he had not been expecting him, clearly, so who had he been waiting for? A chance movement of the torch beam had shown that Evie’s father had been fully dressed in some sort of camouflage and his reactions to intercepting an unexpected intruder had been efficient and professional. Tony shivered. He had never thought much about Evie’s father, beyond a tendency to avoid him if he could. He was to all outward appearances a quiet, hard-working farmer, with stern old-fashioned views, especially about his daughter, which Rachel and Evie both seemed to respect even if they honoured them in the breach rather than the observance. But he was so often out on the farm when Tony was there he had not registered that much. Pushing the bike, Tony headed down the lane, deep in thought. Surely Dudley Lucas could not be a spy?