The Great Betrayal (16 page)

Downstairs, she prepared porridge and toast for their breakfast and waited for her father to appear. When he did so she saw with dismay that he had buttoned his shirt wrongly so that the collar was lopsided, but when she tactfully offered to help him he refused the offer point blank so she let the matter slide. Really, she told herself, today she had more important things to worry about.

‘I’m going for a long walk,’ she told him. ‘Would you like to come with us?’

As she expected, he agreed with enthusiasm, and by nine thirty the three of them had set off. Adam had his hoop, which he rolled along the unfamiliar pavements with obvious delight while Lydia did her best to keep a conversation going with her father. The journey took longer than she had anticipated, but at last, soon after ten thirty, they found themselves outside number sixteen. Even Leonard Phipps’ description of the house had not prepared her for how ordinary it looked in the half-hearted sunshine. She had become used to imagining it in a variety of ways, but number sixteen appeared as run-down as the neighbouring houses in the street, and she found it hard to visualize an important government office being housed there – unless that was the point of the exercise. A humble-looking place which would arouse no interest.

Her father said, ‘Is this it? Is this what we’ve come to see?’

Adam, puzzled, clutched his hoop and waited for someone to explain.

Lydia said briskly, ‘Papa used to work here, Adam, when he wasn’t travelling.’

‘When he wasn’t out spying!’ said George.

‘Please, Father!’

They all stared at the very unremarkable house. The tiny front garden contained an area of dark pebbles set in concrete and two large pots, each containing a long-dead rose bush. The front step desperately needed whitening, thought Lydia, and the knocker would be improved by some polish. Before her courage deserted her she banged twice with the knocker and stepped back.

Adam said, ‘Where’s the park, Mama?’

‘I didn’t say there would be a park,’ she told him. ‘I said there might be one.’

‘Can I roll my hoop?’

‘Just wait a moment, dear.’

The door opened suddenly, and they were confronted by a young woman with blonde curls and a pretty face.

‘What?’ she demanded.

Lydia said, ‘Mrs Donald Wickham?’

‘Call me Dolly.’ The woman waved her left hand to show off her ring and said, ‘Who wants to know?’

When Lydia explained who she was, however, the young woman’s manner changed. Brightening, she held open the door.

‘Come on in!’ she said. ‘I’m the woman who sent back your letter. Want a cup of tea?’ To Adam she said, ‘Do you like kittens? I got him yesterday. He’s a ginger tom. He’s growing up fast. His name’s Ginger.’

George said, ‘How very original!’

Lydia glared at him. ‘If we’re not disturbing you,’ she said as they followed Dolly in.

As they entered an untidy kitchen, George said, ‘Good God!’ and stared round in disbelief. Used to Lydia’s tidy kitchen, he was astonished by the unwashed dishes in the sink and the debris of a breakfast on the table. However, he rallied, remembered his manners and said, ‘I’m George Meecham. I’m the grandpapa.’

Startled, Dolly shook the proffered hand.

Adam had spotted the kitten. ‘May I stroke him?’ he asked, leaning his hoop against the wall.

‘Course you can, lovey. You can pick him up. He doesn’t scratch.’ She glanced round the room and said, ‘Perhaps we’d better go into the other room. It’s a bit of a squash in here, and his nibs will be down shortly.’

As she led them to the front room, George said, ‘His nibs?’

‘My brother-in-law, Sidney, the lazy wretch. Sit yourselves down.’

Pot calling the kettle black, thought Lydia as she sank into a sofa with sagging springs and a tired-looking cushion whose grimy cover needed a wash. There were dead coals in the fire grate and the room smelled musty. A bit of effort for half an hour, she thought, and she could have put the whole place to rights.

George remained standing by the window, staring out at the street, while Adam came in carrying the kitten with great care.

Dolly said, ‘Don doesn’t like kittens or cats because they make him sneeze, or so he says, and he said I couldn’t have one, but he’s had to go away for a few days so when he comes back I’ll tell him I saw a couple of mice.’ She grinned. ‘A little white lie, but who cares!’

Without turning his head, George said, ‘Where’s he gone?’

Lydia was on the point of apologizing for the abrupt question when she realized that she did in fact want to know the answer.

Dolly shrugged. ‘Lord knows. It’s his job. Always disappearing. He sells things. He’s a salesman.’

‘Sounds like another spy!’ George continued to study the street.

Dolly blinked. ‘A
spy
?’

Feeling traitorous, Lydia whispered, ‘He’s getting very confused!’ and tapped her forehead. Aloud, she said, ‘I sympathize. My husband works for the government, and he’s away a lot.’ Searching for more common ground, she said, ‘Mr Phipps is our lodger. He tells me you have recently married.’

Dolly patted her belly. ‘He had to make an honest woman of me, didn’t he! We had a lovely private wedding. It was wonderful. Really . . . refined.’ She smiled. ‘Not a noisy crowd, but just the three of us. Me and Don and the Reverend Burke. He’s a part-time vicar. Was going to be full-time, but I suppose he couldn’t pass all the exams – I didn’t like to ask – but he’s such a nice man and we had this very simple ceremony and he gave me a little pot of violets which I’m pressing in a book and I’ve got this lovely certificate thing with a seal on it. I can show you if you like?’ Breathless, she stopped, her eyes shining with pride.

Lydia was trying not to envy the young woman’s evident happiness. ‘That would be interesting. Thank you.’

While Dolly rooted around in a drawer of the sideboard, Lydia tried to remember if Burke was the name of the other man Leonard Phipps had seen. It sounded familiar, but she would check on it later.

‘Here we are!’

Dolly handed over the paper, which did indeed have a seal on the bottom, and Lydia read it with considerable misgivings. Even to her unsophisticated eyes, there was something about the ‘document’ that lacked authenticity. Dolly took it back from her and showed it to George, who stared at it blankly, then shook his head.

Adam said, ‘Ginger likes me. He does, Mama. And I like him.’

Lydia groaned inwardly. She knew what was coming next.

‘May I have a kitten, Mama?’

‘We have to ask Papa.’

‘When will he come home?’

‘I don’t know for sure, Adam, but when he does . . .’ Her voice faltered, and she saw that Dolly was watching her closely. She said, ‘It can get lonely, even with a child and my father.’

A sudden sound from above made Dolly glance upward. ‘Not much chance of being lonely in this house,’ she said. ‘Sidney’s always hanging round. He doesn’t need a proper job because he has private money, and it’s so unfair because Don wasn’t left anything! And then Willis Burke pops in from time to time. They’re like three peas in a bloomin’ pod!’

Unable to wait any longer, Lydia broached the reason for their visit. ‘I wondered if you knew any more about the PSD that used to have an office here. I wrote to my husband here, and he always answered my letters so I know they were coming to the right place.’

Dolly pointed through the front window. ‘Until a few days ago I lived over there with my mother and sister. Number fifteen. That’s how I got friendly with Don, my husband – because we lived opposite. Also, we all went to the same school as young’uns – me and my sister Mavis, and the two Wickham boys. Not Willis Burke, though, because he lived further away and had to go to a different school because he was supposed to be clever and his ma and pa were a bit posh.’ She tilted her nose up with a finger by way of demonstration.

George abandoned his study of the street and, turning, said, ‘We were told by Mr Phipps that you’ve never seen anyone called Daye.’

Lydia blinked in surprise, astonished that he had somehow retained that particular fact.

‘That’s right,’ Dolly agreed, ‘and upstairs there’s only an empty attic which Don says was never a proper office. No proper desks or chairs or cupboards and such. And no staff – not even a secretary.’

Lydia leaned forward. ‘Did letters come from other people for the PSD?’

‘I don’t know. Yours was the only one I’ve ever seen.’

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Lydia felt a dryness in her throat. A man called, ‘Make us a cuppa, Dolly.’

Dolly raised her voice. ‘Can’t. We’ve got visitors come about the PSD. Make it yourself!’ A tousled head appeared round the door, and she said, ‘This here is Syd.’

‘We told the other chap,’ Sidney said angrily. ‘We don’t know anything about an office. Leave us alone, can’t you!’

Lydia cried, ‘But you know you burned the letters that came for Mr Daye. Or that’s what you told Mr Phipps. But you couldn’t have burned them because he answered them! So someone is lying.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Anyway, if you burned them you broke the law. No one must interfere with the postal service.’

Bewildered once more, George looked from one to the other. ‘Steady on, Lydia! What are you saying? Which letters are we talking about?’

‘John’s letters from me, sent to his place of work!’ Her voice trembled.

Sidney said, ‘For God’s sake get rid of ’em, Dolly,’ and withdrew from the fray leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

Lydia looked at Dolly. ‘We’re leaving, but don’t think you’ve heard the last of us.’

Chastened, Dolly hesitated. To Lydia she said, ‘If they are lying, I’m not part of it.’

‘I know you’re not.’ Impulsively, Lydia stepped forward and gave Dolly a brief hug. ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You take care of yourself, and good luck when the baby arrives.’

Dolly brightened at the mention of her pregnancy. ‘I could write to you if you like and say whether it’s a girl or a boy.’

Oh dear! Lydia began to wish she had not encouraged her, but she forced a smile. ‘That would be nice. If you give me a piece of paper I’ll write down the address. I’ll send you a card of congratulations.’

Dolly brightened at the prospect. ‘I’ll put it on the mantelpiece!’

A few moments later Adam, George and Lydia set off on the first mile of their journey home. George walked in a baffled silence. Adam, the hoop tucked under his arm, stared mournfully ahead, already missing Ginger. Lydia, her spirits lower than ever, was holding back tears of impotent rage.

A fitful moon cast shadows across the landing that night as George crept from his room. He was still in his pyjamas and slippers, and he made no sound as he reached Adam’s room and gently turned the door handle. The boy lay fast asleep, soft muffled sounds coming from beneath the blanket which he had pulled over his head. George tiptoed towards him and eased back the blanket.

‘Adam,’ he whispered. ‘
Adam
! Wake up, lad.’ He shook him gently until he awoke, rubbing his eyes sleepily and staring up at his grandpapa.

‘Where’s mama?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘She’s sleeping. Don’t fret, lad. I’ve got a surprise for you. We’re going out on an adventure. Just you and me. How would you like that, eh?’

Cautiously, Adam raised himself to a sitting position. ‘Just you and me? What about Mama?’

‘It’s going to be a surprise for your mother, Adam. She likes surprises, doesn’t she? Now we’ve got to get you dressed and then we’ll be off on the adventure. When you’re dressed I’ll tell you where we’re going, so look lively, Adam.’

Adam glanced towards the window and frowned. ‘It’s dark! I want Mama to come with us.’ He clung to the blanket as George tried to uncover him.

George hesitated. ‘Look, Adam, the truth is we’re going to the pet shop to buy you a kitten. If we tell your mother she—’

‘A kitten!’

George nodded. ‘A ginger kitten. A present from your Grandpapa! Now what do you say, eh? Are you coming or not?’

Slowly, Adam slid from the bed and trotted to the window. Outside, the street lamps flickered as slivers of thin fog drifted past making the familiar street look eerie and unwelcoming. He gave an involuntary shudder and turned nervously. ‘But it’s dark . . . and the shop will be shut.’

‘Dark?’ George joined him at the window. ‘Bless my soul, that’s not dark, lad! The moon is shining and . . . Adam!’

The boy ran past him, dived on to the bed and burrowed back into the security of the bedclothes.

Upset by this turn of events, George sat down on the nearest chair and wondered what had gone wrong with his plan. The boy wanted a kitten and his daughter refused to buy him one so he, George the grandpapa, would do the honours. What was wrong with that? he asked himself with growing irritation.

He said, ‘So you don’t want a kitten.’

Adam, holding the blanket up to his chin, peeped over the top at his grandpapa. ‘I do . . . but I want mama to come with us.’

George sighed. ‘Well, if you don’t want to share the adventure, I’ll go on my own.’ He stood up. ‘One ginger kitten! Your wish is my command!’ He swung up his right arm in a military-style salute and headed out of the room. He went down the stairs and out of the front door.

Shocked, Adam scrambled from his bed and ran along the landing to his mother’s room and in at the open door.

‘Mama! Mama! Wake up! Grandpapa has gone out in his pyjamas!’

She was wide awake in seconds. ‘Oh Lord! I’ll have to fetch him back. You stay here like a good boy and don’t follow me.’

Pulling her coat on over her nightdress and pushing her feet into her shoes, she rushed from the room and down the stairs. At the front door she called back urgently. ‘Go back to bed, Adam,
please
! I promise I won’t be long.’

Rooted to the spot, Adam considered her words. He wanted to rush off with his mother into the darkness –
that
would be an adventure – but suppose he couldn’t catch up with her and got lost . . .?