The Pearl Locket (20 page)

The man ushered the woman and child down the cellar steps, then turned to shake Jack’s hand. ‘
Merci, merci, merci
,’ he said, his eyes conveying even more thanks than his words. Jack nodded silently, then turned to leave. It was all nothing more than one tiny drama in the enormous theatre of war. And he still had a job to do.

He made it back across the lower field, keeping lower than before. Jerry might have spared him while he carried a small child, but he had no such talisman now. He dived back through the gap in the hedge where he’d followed little Véronique. Keeping low and quiet, he crawled back to where he’d left Mikey and the equipment.

The mortar and bag of shells was there, but no Mikey. Only a smear of blood along the bottom of the ditch. ‘Shit, Mikey, what’s happened?’ Jack muttered. He followed the trail of blood a few yards further along the ditch, and found Mikey, lying on his back, clutching at wounds in his thigh and side.

‘Mikey, oh Christ, Mikey. Hang on, kid. I’ll soon patch you up.’ The thigh wound was pumping blood. Jack pulled out his knife and cut off the lower part of Mikey’s trouser leg. He tore a strip of it and tied it tightly above the leg wound, wadding the rest against the hole in Mikey’s side. He placed Mikey’s hand over this. ‘Push hard. Keep the pressure on. I’ll get you home.’

‘Never coming home,’ Mikey mumbled.

‘Yes you are, kid. You’re not fighting any more with those injuries. We’ll have you back on a boat in no time. Shit!’ Jack ducked as more machine gun fire rattled across the field. He felt the whoosh of a bullet right past the side of his head. ‘Too close. Mikey, look, I’ve got to get that mortar set up. We’ve no hope unless I can take out the machine gun. Keep that pressure on, and hang on in there.’

Mikey mumbled some more, but kept his hand on the wad of fabric. Jack crawled back to the equipment, and working quickly, set it up. Using his binoculars he scanned the hedgerows. Yes, over there, higher up the hill he could see the wall of sandbags. He needed one single direct hit. To his left, back the way they’d come, was the barn from which Sergeant Crane would give the signal. Could he wait for a signal? What if it never came? With the mortar set up and loaded, he scanned the barn. A glint of sunlight on something. And again. That was the signal. He aimed and fired, one, two, three shells in quick succession, wincing with ear pain as each one fired. ‘Be a direct hit, please. Take them out,’ he muttered. Part of him felt shocked at this, the first time he’d actively tried to kill another human, but he knew those Germans had badly injured Mikey and had tried to kill him. He’d been lucky to have escaped so far. The machine gun would do so much more damage if it were left. Pointing the other way it could cover the whole village.

The third shell hit its target. Bingo! A scream, and a ball of fire shot into the air, flaming orange and red against the dull clouds. He’d aimed well. Now for Mikey.

He crawled back to Mikey. ‘How are you doing, kid?’

Mikey’s lips moved but no sound came out. He’d let go of the wad of fabric against his side. Jack pressed it back tight again. ‘Hang on, kid. I’ll get you home.’

‘Eileen… Tell Eileen…’

‘You’ll tell her yourself, when you’re back in Blighty,’ Jack said.

Mikey shook his head feebly. ‘No, never coming home. Tell Eileen…’

‘Go on then, what should I tell her?’

‘Tell her… Tell Eileen…’ Mikey’s voice trailed away. Blood bubbled between his lips.

‘No, kid. No. Stay with me.’ Jack cradled his friend’s head. He had to get him down off the hill, back to their makeshift camp. He pulled Mikey to a sitting position, hoisted his arm over his shoulder, and stood, hauling Mikey over his back in a fireman’s lift. With the machine gun neutralised it’d be safe, and quicker, to do this on foot. Staggering under the weight he began to half walk, half run, down the field. In the distance he could see Sergeant Crane organising the men. The munitions dump in the barn was engulfed in flames. They could advance on the village now. Jack had done his job, and taken out that machine gun. He’d saved a child too. All that remained was to get Mikey back, to save him as well. He imagined telling Joan the story of this, his first real action. She’d be proud of him. So proud. He fell to one knee under Mikey’s weight, then hauled himself back to his feet. Not far to go.

Jack never saw the sniper, nor heard the shot. There was a searing pain, a vision of Joan smiling and holding out her hands to him, and then blackness as he fell, still clutching the dead body of Mikey.

Chapter Nineteen

November 2014

‘I don’t know why you agreed she could stay here last night,’ said Pete, as he parked in front of Matt’s house. ‘We should have brought her home last night.’

‘I know. But she was so upset. I’ve never heard her react like that.’ Ali shook her head at the memory of Kelly’s anguished wailing on the phone the previous night, when Ali had suggested driving over from the hospital to collect her there and then. She unclipped her seat belt and climbed out of the car.

‘We were
all
upset, Ali, with what happened to your gran. Thank goodness
she’s
OK at least. It was just thoughtless and irresponsible for Kelly to run out on us like that, while we were waiting at the hospital.’

Ali waited for him to lock the car and they approached the house together. ‘Calm down, Pete. Please. We need to be a united front here, find out what’s wrong and why she won’t come home. Remember what Matt said to us, about there being a good reason, though one we’d find hard to believe. He promised us he’d persuade her to tell us everything this morning.’

‘She’d better do,’ growled Pete, as he leaned on the doorbell. ‘His parents aren’t at home, are they? And we let her stay the night with him?’

Ali sighed. ‘She’s seventeen. Old enough. I trust her. And him. Besides, they’re not an item any more.’

As Matt opened the door, Pete barged past him into the hallway. ‘Kelly? Where are you? Listen, girl, you’d better not ever pull a stunt like this again. Have you any idea how frantic your mum was when we couldn’t find you at the hospital? Thoughtless, that’s what you are. She was worried sick.’

Kelly emerged from the kitchen, her eyes downcast at her father’s tirade but her chin slightly jutted in at attitude of defiance. Ali knew that expression. It meant that she would take whatever was coming to her, but that she would not give in.

‘Pete, go easy on her. Come on, let’s sit down and talk about this properly. Matt, dear, any chance of a cup of tea?’

‘Of course, Mrs Bradshaw. I’ll get the kettle on. Go through to the living room, please.’

Kelly led the way, and curled herself up on an oversized armchair. Ali took one end of the sofa and gestured for Pete to sit beside her. But he remained standing, hands on hips. ‘So. What happened? Why did you run off from the hospital? Why were you so upset last night, and why are you refusing to come home?’

Ali reached for his hand and pulled him towards her. ‘Pete, give her a chance to answer one question at a time.’

‘Kells, tell them what you told me last night,’ said Matt, quietly, from the doorway.

Ali watched as Kelly made eye contact with him, and he nodded encouragingly. Matt was such a good influence on her daughter. Maybe this would bring them back together again. She hoped so. She’d always liked Matt.

‘All right. I’ll tell them. But I bet they won’t believe me.’

Matt crossed the room and leaned over to whisper something to her. She nodded, took a deep breath and began to speak.

‘Oh, what rubbish, Kelly. Ghosts? In our house? And you think you’re hearing the voices of the dead? That’s ridiculous. Crazy.’ Pete had stood up again, and was pacing the room, waving his arms around.

‘Sit down, Pete, you’ll knock something over,’ Ali said. She didn’t believe in ghosts either, but was prepared to listen to more.

‘Our daughter is babbling about the house being haunted by the ghost of your gran’s dead sister and you’re worried I might break an ornament?’ Despite his words, Pete sat down, and stared at Kelly. ‘So what happened to them? To Joan and her fellow?’

Kelly shook her head. ‘I don’t know. When we asked Great-gran about it she got too tired to tell us the end of their story. We were going to ask her more about it yesterday, but then she collapsed before we had the chance to.’

Matt came back in with a tray of tea and biscuits, which he put down on the coffee table and handed round. ‘So, she’s told you then? About Joan?’

‘She’s told us, yes. Though I don’t understand why it means she can’t come home,’ grumbled Pete. Ali pinched her lips together. He was always like this with things he didn’t understand or couldn’t control.

‘Because it’s worse in our house, Dad. It was her house too; she lived there when she was my age, during the war. And when I’m there, I can feel her all the time, and hear her voice in my head, and she makes me want to wear clothes like she would have worn, and talk like she would have. It’s frightening, Mum. What if she took over completely and I couldn’t stop her? I’m scared, Mum. That’s why I didn’t want to come home last night. Why I still don’t want to come home. If I’m away from home it’s easier—she feels more distant. I can control it more, and feel more like myself. Please, don’t make me come home!’ Tears ran down Kelly’s face.

Ali jumped up and went to sit on the arm of Kelly’s chair, hugging her. ‘Oh, love, we’re not going to make you if it scares you that much.’ She glared at Pete. ‘And your dad agrees. We’ll think of something.’

‘She can stay here. In the spare room, I mean. I’ll call my parents to ask them but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.’

‘Thanks, Matt. But yes, you must check with your parents first.’ Ali had only met Matt’s mum and dad once but they’d seemed like good people. She’d have done the same for Matt if needed. Any time.

‘Hang on, do I get a say in this?’ Pete said. Ali shook her head in warning, but Pete ignored her and carried on. ‘She can stay here if it helps—I’m not an ogre; I don’t want to see my little girl all upset. But we need to find a solution to this. Kelly has to be able to come home soon. I think we have to find out what happened to this Joan and her boyfriend. Maybe that’ll help Kelly move on. There must be some reason. Ghosts don’t just haunt people for the hell of it.’

‘Dad, you’re talking as though you believe me.’

‘I don’t believe in ghosts, sweetheart. But you’re right about Joan’s presence being in the house—it is. There was her writing on the wall in your room, and her belongings in the basement. Then your imagination has got going with all that, your quest to find out the full story—
that’s
what’s allowed her to get inside your head. You’re not possessed by her; you’re obsessed. But we do need to lay it all to rest, one way or another. We have to find the truth.’

‘Thanks, Dad. Mum?’

‘I don’t know, love. I just don’t know.’ Ali wanted to believe everything her daughter said, but how could she? Ghosts, voices in her head? It was all too much. She considered what Pete had said. He was talking sense—whether or not you believed in ghosts, something had got inside Kelly’s head. Even if it was just her overactive teenage imagination. ‘We’ll have to ask Gran. As soon as possible. She must know what happened to her sister. She didn’t want to talk about last time we asked her, but she’ll have to, now. We do need to know. Your Dad’s right.’

Kelly stared at her. ‘But Great-gran’s surely not well enough?’

‘She was much better when we left her last night. I think they’ll probably discharge her today. Like you, I think she is perfectly all right if she’s away from our house. I’ll be taking her home, and I’ll arrange for us to visit her at the nursing home tomorrow.’ Ali looked at Pete and shook her head. ‘We should have listened to Gran. She never wanted us to move into the house in the first place. We should have just sold up and bought somewhere else.’

‘Now’s not the time for that discussion, Ali,’ Pete said, firmly.

Gran was looking tired and drawn when they arrived at the nursing home the next day. She seemed to be shrinking—every time Ali saw her she was smaller, frailer and more hunched. They must make the effort to see her more while they still had her, Ali thought, sadly.

‘How’s things, Gran?’ she said, bending over to give the old lady a kiss. This time she was in her own room, sitting quietly in the armchair beside her bed. The TV was on—some documentary about a seventy-something Frenchwoman, Véronique Dupont, who’d spent her life leading humanitarian relief efforts across the globe, was playing at full volume. ‘Do you mind if I turn this off?’

‘No, not at all. I wasn’t really watching it. I’m not so bad, Alison, love. I’ve got over that nasty turn from Halloween. Was that only two days ago? It feels like longer.’ She lifted her gaze and widened her eyes when she saw Pete, Matt and Kelly. ‘Gosh, you’ve brought a lot of people with you. Is it a special day? Is it my birthday?’

‘No, Gran, not your birthday. That’s not till next month. It’s November now.’

‘I know it’s November, love. I’m not going cuckoo just yet, you know. But you don’t normally bring so many people. And who is this handsome young man?’ She pointed a wavering finger at Matt.

‘I’m Matt. Kelly’s, um, friend. Pleased to meet you, Mrs Eliot. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Matt took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle shake. Gran smiled up at him, clearly delighted by him. Good old Matt, always behaving impeccably. Ali wondered again if there was a chance he and Kelly might resume their relationship. That would be a good thing all round.

‘Gran, we’ve come to ask you to tell us a little bit more about your sister Joan,’ said Ali, gently. ‘You see, Kelly’s been, um, fascinated by her, ever since she found that photo of the three of you. And the other photo, of the young soldier.’

‘Oh dear.’ Gran sighed and then took a deep breath. ‘I thought you might come back and ask about her again. Especially after what happened at your house the other day. All these years, and I said nothing, as Father and then Betty advised. But now they’re gone, and I suppose there’s no harm in telling you about her.’