Polly paused at the bottom of the back stairs. The door opened out onto the courtyard, and she could hear an engine revving up outside. Her heart raced to keep up with the sound. Sam could be just a few feet away from her right now. Just one quick look, that’s all she wanted. It had been so long since she’d seen him, she could hardly remember what he looked like.
Obeying the irresistible urge, she dragged off her apron, undid the top two buttons of her white blouse, hitched her dark blue skirt up a couple of inches under the wide black belt she wore, then opened the door and peeked outside.
Her stomach did a double somersault when she saw the driver of the Jeep. By some miracle it was Sam, and his profile was every bit as smashing as she remembered. Her excitement propelled her forward, and before she really knew what she was doing, she’d bounced outside into the sunlight.
He saw her right away and flashed her a grin. “Well, hi, beautiful! Where have you been hiding?”
He’d called her beautiful. Entranced, Polly gazed happily at him, oblivious to the whistles and catcalls echoing across the courtyard from Sam’s appreciative comrades. She wondered if it was all right to call a man beautiful, because right then, with the sun glinting on the badges on his uniform, and his teeth gleaming white in his dark, suntanned face, he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever come close to in her life. Better than any film star she’d ever seen. Just watching him smile like that made her feel like floating all the way up to the clouds.
“What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?”
She snapped out of her trance. If she wanted him to go on thinking she was a twenty-year-old woman, she’d better start behaving like one. In her best imitation of Ava Gardner, she tossed her head. “I was just wondering how long you were going to sit there making all that noise.”
More whoops and whistles greeted her comment. Sam winked at her. “We’re on our way out, babe. Sorry if we’re disturbing you.”
“Well, I do have a lot of work to do. It’s hard to concentrate on the bills and everything with all this noise going on.”
Sam looked around at his leering companions and climbed out of the Jeep. “Move on out. Wait for me at the end of the drive.”
“Hey, Sam, no fraternizing with the natives!” one of the grinning Yanks called out as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“Got any more like you at home?” another one yelled, and the rest joined in with various remarks that heated her cheeks.
“Get out of here,” Sam growled at them.
As the roar of the Jeep faded away down the long, curving drive, Polly suddenly felt shy. She stared down at her serviceable black shoes and wished she’d worn the high-heeled sandals she’d splashed her coupons on last month.
“What are you doing out here?” Sam asked. “I thought you worked in the office at the other end of the house.”
“I do,” Polly said, crossing her fingers behind her. “I had to run an errand, that’s all. I’m on my way back there now.”
Sam nodded, his brown eyes intent on her face. “Haven’t seen you around much.”
That’s because she’d spent her time avoiding all of them, Polly thought wistfully. She had to talk to Lady Elizabeth again and beg her to give her a job in the office. The last thing in the world she wanted was for Sam to find out she was only a housemaid. “What happened to Clay?” she asked, more to change the subject than anything. “He told Marlene he’d meet her at the pub, but he never turned up.” It was a mild rebuke of sorts. Marlene had met Clay the same night she’d met Sam, and neither one of the men had kept their promise to meet them down the pub the next night.
Sam’s gaze drifted over to the beech trees lining the drive. “Sorry about that. Clay didn’t come back from a mission. I didn’t feel like going into town without him.”
Polly felt as if someone had slammed a fist in her stomach. “Oh, blimey, I’m so sorry. Poor Clay. Doesn’t anyone know what happened to him?”
Sam shrugged. “I saw him bail out. If he’s lucky he got picked up by the Resistance. If not, he’ll spend the rest of the war in a POW camp.”
Tears clouded her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I’ll tell Marlene. She’ll be so sad. She really liked him.”
“Yeah. He was a nice guy.”
In spite of the warmth from the sun, her insides felt like they’d been dipped in ice. It could be Sam the next time. She couldn’t bear to think of him locked up in a prison camp. “Are you going up today?”
“Probably.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going.” His gaze shifted to her face again. “Wanna meet me at the pub tonight?”
She nodded eagerly. “I’ll try. About eight o’clock?”
“If I can make it.”
He’d said the words casually enough, but she knew what they meant. What he really meant was if I come back.
Just then a shrill voice screeched from behind her, “Polly? What in the world are you doing?”
“I’ll see you then,” Polly said hurriedly and waved her hand before spinning around.
Violet marched toward her with a grim look on her pinched face, Polly’s discarded apron flapping in her hand.
Polly held her breath until she heard the crunch of Sam’s footsteps gradually taper off in the distance. Violet stood waiting a few feet away, with arms crossed and a scowl as dark as thunderclouds.
“I came out to see what all the noise was about,” Polly said, darting past the birdlike woman to the door.
“Oh? And did your apron just happen to fall off on the way out?” The housekeeper brandished the white cloth in her face. “And how did your skirt get all bunched up like that? Your knees are showing. Blinking disgraceful, that’s what I call it.”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Polly tugged at her skirt, then snatched the offending article of clothing from Violet’s skinny hand. “I was just being polite, that’s all.”
“Hmmph!” Violet snorted. “If you ask me, there’s entirely too much of this sort of thing going on. I knew there’d be trouble if them Yanks moved in, that I did. I warned Lady Elizabeth, but she wouldn’t listen to me, oh, no.”
Polly tugged at the strings of her apron and tied them securely around her waist. “If you ask me, it’s the nosy old biddies around here what causes all the trouble.”
“Here! Mind your tongue, my girl, or I’ll have you thrown out on your ear, so help me I will.”
“Yeah? And who do you think will come up here and clean this house for Lady Liza then? No one, that’s who. There ain’t anyone in Sitting Marsh who’d do what I do, and that’s a fact.”
“Really.” Violet stomped past her into the shadowed hallway. “Well, there are a good few women in North Horsham who would be only too glad to have a job like this. Especially when they get all that free time and their food thrown in.”
“There’s not enough money in it to pay their bus fare.” Confident of her position, Polly picked up her bucket and turned her back on Violet. “So you’d better be nice to me, or I’ll leave and go work in the factory. So there.”
“Polly.”
She was tempted to ignore Violet’s command, but something in the older woman’s tone turned her head. “What?”
“I’ve got something to tell you. Your sister called here this morning.”
Alarmed, Polly turned all the way around. “Marlene? She’s all right, isn’t she? What did she call for? Is it Ma? It’s not Dad, is it?” Fear made her voice crack. “Oh, Gawd, don’t tell me it’s Dad!”
“There’s nothing wrong with any of your family as far as I know,” Violet said crisply. “There is something you should know, though. One of the local land girls was found murdered in the woods this morning. Your sister called to warn you, and Lady Elizabeth wanted me to tell you she’ll make some arrangements to get you a lift home this evening, so you don’t have to ride your bicycle past the woods.”
Polly barely heard the rest of Violet’s words. She was too hung up on the news of the murder. She sat down hard on the bottom stair, trying to make sense of what she’d heard. “A land girl? Who was she? Who done it, then?”
Violet shook her head. “I don’t know who she was, but it looks like that German pilot who got away yesterday killed the poor little mite. He must have been hiding in the woods, and the poor girl just happened to come across him.”
Polly frowned. “What was she doing in the woods all alone, anyway? I thought those girls always went around together.”
“Well, apparently this one didn’t.” Violet massaged the sides of her forehead with her fingers. “Anyway, get on with your work. I’m going back to the kitchen. All this upset has given me a headache.”
Polly moved aside to allow her to pass her on the stairs. She couldn’t believe it. Another murder in Sitting Marsh. Things had certainly changed since the Yanks had come to town. But at least they couldn’t blame this on the Yanks. Polly thought about the German bomber pilot hiding in the woods and shivered. Thank goodness someone was going to take her home tonight.
She pulled herself to her feet, then her pulse leapt as an idea blazed in her head. Maybe she could get Sam to take her home. Blissfully forgetting about the murder, she began a daydream about Sam and her alone in the Jeep under the stars-a dream that would last her the entire day.
The three land girls, all of whom were strangers to Elizabeth, seemed suitably impressed when Sheila introduced her visitor as the lady of the manor. Pauline, a stocky redhead and obviously the leader of the group, startled everybody when she demanded in her strident voice, “Did you come about the murder, m’m?”
Maisie stared down at her feet, while Kitty’s pudgy face turned a bright red. Elizabeth studied their reactions with interest and made a mental note to question them all individually.
“How did you hear about that?” Sheila spluttered, obviously put out at being robbed of her big announcement.
Pauline shrugged. “Biggs told me. He got it from the milkman when he came to pick up the milk this morning. He said it were a poacher what came across the body.”
Sheila’s face was quite pale as she stared at Pauline. “Did Biggs tell you who had been murdered?”
The girl looked uncomfortable. “No,” she said slowly, “but we all think it might be Amelia, ’cause she never came back from her date last night.”
“You’re sure she didn’t come back?” Elizabeth asked.
Pauline exchanged looks with the other girls. “Well, m’m, her bed hadn’t been slept in. We all went to bed early, but Amelia slipped out to meet her boyfriend. When we woke up this morning we saw she hadn’t come back.”
“And you didn’t say anything to Mrs. Macclesby?”
“Yes,” Sheila put in, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Pauline’s chin shot up. “Well, you was asleep when we got up. You always told us not to disturb you in the mornings, so we made a cup of tea and a jam sandwich and then went to work. Then, when Biggs told us a land girl had been murdered, we all decided it had to be Amelia. There didn’t seem much point in telling you she was missing after that.”
“I hope you didn’t use more than a teaspoonful of jam,” Sheila said crossly. “That stuff is rationed, you know.”
“Tell me what isn’t,” Pauline grumbled.
Maisie, who seemed to be the most disturbed by the news, looked at Elizabeth. “Excuse me, Lady Elizabeth, but did the police find out who killed Amelia?”
“We all know who did it,” Sheila declared before Elizabeth could answer. “I was thinking about it while I was upstairs. It had to be that German pilot who ran off yesterday. Who else would want to hurt such a nice young lady?”
“I can think of a few,” Pauline murmured.
“Hush!” Sheila said curtly. “Do not speak ill of the dead. Go into the kitchen, all of you, and make some coffee for Lady Elizabeth and me. And bring a plate of those broken biscuits.” She looked apologetically at Elizabeth. “Sorry they’re in pieces, but I get them off-ration, and they taste the same as if they were whole.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth assured her. “But don’t worry on my account. A cup of tea will be enough for me.”
The girls disappeared into the kitchen and, judging from the whisperings going on, were discussing the untimely death of their unfortunate colleague. Elizabeth would have given a week’s sugar ration to overhear what they were talking about.
Sheila chose that moment, however, to speculate on the whereabouts of the German pilot, and Elizabeth had to content herself with the prospect of questioning the girls later.
After sampling some of the mushy, stale pieces of broken biscuits, she swallowed down her tea too fast to be genteel, then quickly made her excuses to Sheila, who seemed unflatteringly relieved to let her go.
Thick white clouds scudded across the sky, promising a squall from the ocean as Elizabeth picked her way across the fields to where Kitty sat perched on a wagon. The land girl’s attempts to urge the weary-looking horse to pull her alongside the sheaves of corn were met with stubborn resistance. The other two girls waited impatiently, ready to toss the corn into the cart with long, unwieldy pitchforks.
In spite of Maisie’s frail appearance, she seemed to have no trouble lifting a sheaf of corn with the clumsy implement. Elizabeth was quite sure she herself could never have managed it, nor did she have any desire to attempt it. She tapped Maisie on the shoulder and noticed that the girl started quite violently as she dropped the pitchfork.
“Sorry, your ladyship,” she muttered. “I didn’t see you coming.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Elizabeth said, giving her an encouraging smile. “I was just wondering if I could have a quick word with you.”
“If you’re going to ask her about Amelia,” Pauline said shortly, “she doesn’t know anything we don’t know.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t,” Elizabeth glanced at Pauline’s sullen face, “but I didn’t want to interrupt all of you at once.”
The horse, apparently tired of all the screeching and jerking of his reins, took a few reluctant steps forward. Pauline heaved her sheaf into the wagon, and Elizabeth seized the opportunity to draw Maisie aside.
“I just wanted to ask you how well you knew Amelia,” she said, ignoring Pauline’s baleful glances in their direction.
Maisie seemed as if she wanted to run away and hide. “Not very well,” she said, her voice trembling on a sob. “She wasn’t as friendly as the rest of us. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, m’m, but Amelia didn’t really belong with us, if you know what I mean. She was always bragging about her big fancy house and cars, and how she went horse-riding and had ballet lessons and everything.”
“I see.” Elizabeth glanced over at Pauline, but she had moved on to the next sheaf and was out of earshot. “What about the rest of the girls? How did they feel about Amelia?”
Maisie’s gaze flicked to Pauline for a second. “They didn’t like her neither. Especially Pauline. Amelia stole her boyfriend from the army camp. Pauline had it in for her after that.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
As if reading her thoughts, Maisie added hurriedly, “She wouldn’t have killed her, though, m’m. Honest. I mean, she couldn’t have, could she. Pauline went to bed the same time as the rest of us. We sleep in the same room, and our floor creaks something terrible. I would have heard if she’d got out of bed.”
Elizabeth patted the frightened girl’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Maisie. I’m not accusing anyone. Do you know who Amelia was meeting last night?”
Maisie clutched the pitchfork to her chest as if for support. “It was probably Pauline’s old boyfriend, Jeff Thomas, m’m. He’s a lieutenant out at the army camp in Beerstowe.” She pinched her lips together, as if afraid of what she’d said.
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth said, feeling sorry for the girl. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I appreciate you telling me all this. It could be extremely helpful in finding out who murdered that poor girl.” She paused, watching an array of conflicting emotions chase across Maisie’s thin face. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Maisie swallowed a few times, then said in a rush, “I don’t want to get no one in trouble, Lady Elizabeth, but I don’t want you to go blaming Jeff, neither. He’s a nice lad, that Jeff, and he wouldn’t hurt no one. If you ask me, it’s Maurice you should be talking to, that’s who.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Maurice? What makes you say that?”
Maisie sent a hunted look in the direction of the farmhouse. “He was always hanging around Amelia. Fancied her, he did. Amelia wouldn’t have none of it, though. Told him to shove off. She told us she was afraid of him, and Amelia was never afraid of no one except him.”
Feeling greatly disturbed, Elizabeth thanked the girl and watched her hurry off to join the others. Try as she might, she could not picture Maurice Macclesby in the role of murderer. True, he could be somewhat unsettling to be around. With his pronounced limp and vacant stare, not to mention the scruffy chin thanks to his inept and apparently infrequent efforts to shave, he was not a comfortable person to be around. Still, she would never have considered him violent.
She tackled Pauline next who, unlike Maisie, was obviously bursting to tell her what she knew. “That Amelia was nothing but a greedy, two-faced snob,” she announced, stabbing the ground with her pitchfork for emphasis. “I always said something bad would happen to her one day. Though I never thought she’d be done in. Especially by someone like Maurice.”
Startled, Elizabeth fastened her gaze on the young woman’s face. “Does everyone think Maurice killed Amelia?”
Pauline shrugged. “I don’t know about everyone else. The milkman reckons it was that German pilot. All I know is that Maurice was really soppy about Amelia, and she couldn’t stand him near her. She told him that more than once, but he never took no notice. Kept following her around, staring at her in that funny way of his like she was a film star or something. Mind you, she was really pretty, I suppose, in a prissy kind of way. All that blond hair and blue eyes. She didn’t half fancy herself, I tell you.”
Elizabeth closely watched Pauline’s expression when she said quietly, “I understand you were a friend of Amelia’s boyfriend, Lieutenant Jeff Thomas?”
Pauline flinched visibly. “I was. Not anymore. Good riddance to him, that’s what I say. If he wants to be taken in by all that talk, then he’s not worth caring about.”
“Amelia had gone out to meet him last night, I understand.”
“I don’t know who she went out with. The rest of us went to bed. I have to get my sleep to do this kind of work.”
“And you didn’t hear her come back?”
Pauline shook her head. “She never came back. Her bed wasn’t slept in.”
“You didn’t hear anyone talking outside the house late last night?”
“Never heard a thing.” Pauline sent her a sly look. “Why? Did someone see her come back? Was it Maurice? I knew it. I bet he waited for her in the dark then went for her. Wonder what her father will say to all this.”
Maurice again. Elizabeth frowned. “Do you know Amelia’s father?”
“No, ’course not. He’s some big fancy attorney in London. Got pots of money. That’s if Amelia was telling the truth. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to make it all up. Never did like her. She was too full of herself, that girl.”
“Well, thank you for your help.” Elizabeth had noticed Kitty climbing down from the wagon and wanted to speak to the girl before she disappeared.
“Kitty doesn’t know anything, neither,” Pauline said, following Elizabeth’s gaze. “We all went to sleep at the same time last night and woke up this morning, and none of us heard anything nor saw anything.”
“Nevertheless,” Elizabeth said quietly, “I’d like to have a word with her.”
In that respect at least, Pauline was right. Kitty had nothing to add to the information Elizabeth had already been given. Kitty was as uncomplimentary about the murdered girl as her companions and just as certain that Maurice had been responsible.
Having satisfied herself that she would learn no more from them, Elizabeth trudged back to the farmhouse. She was now faced with the unpleasant task of questioning Maurice and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Much against her principles, she couldn’t help hoping that it was the German pilot, after all, who had brutally attacked the young girl and left her broken body in the woods. He at least had some excuse. Something told her, however, that there was much more to this murder than a simple case of someone desperate to evade capture. Much as she hated to admit it, her instincts pointed in the direction of Sheila’s unfortunate son. If he was indeed the killer, it would very likely break Sheila’s heart.