Marge stood with the others and watched Nellie walk slowly up the road and disappear around the curve. Rita beckoned with an imperious wave of her hand and they set off after her. When they got quite a bit closer, Rita flapped her hand in a command for them to stop, and they halted, obeying Rita’s signal to remain silent.
Rita crept forward, bent double at the waist, using the bushes on the grass verge to shield her. One by one, the rest of the housewives crept forward. Marge was the third to go, and she had a lot of trouble bending down low enough to be hidden as she crept toward her bush.
They were too far away to hear anything, but Marge had a pretty good view of what was going on. She could see Nellie pointing down the road away from the women, saying something that made the three men turn to look in that direction.
They stood close to the edge of the cliffs, and the Jeep’s front wheels rested on top of the barbed wire that ran along the other side of the railings. It did look as if they were trying to push the Jeep over the cliffs, where it would crash to the beach below.
Marge felt a shiver go all the way down her back. Didn’t they realize there were mines hidden in the sand? No one knew where they were. If one went off when Nellie was standing that close to the edge she could get really hurt. Even killed. Marge felt sick again. They should never have let her go up there. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Nellie had turned back to the men now and seemed to be arguing with them. Marge heard Rita mutter something, and then everything happened at once.
Marge could hardly believe her eyes when she saw Nellie reach out and grab the scarf from one of the men’s faces. Rita rose to her feet, but before she had time to gather breath to yell, the man grabbed hold of Nellie while the other two dragged the Jeep back onto the road.
“Come on,” Rita roared, “after them!”
“Oh, poop,” Marge muttered, and scrambled to her feet.
Rita galloped toward Nellie, screeching at the top of her lungs. Several of the women followed her, but more at a fast walk than a trot. Marge struggled valiantly to keep up, and even managed to pass a couple of the slower members.
It was all a wasted effort, after all. Rita was within a few feet when Nellie was thrust into the back of the Jeep, all three men jumped in at once, and the vehicle bounced off across the grass and onto the coast road. By the time the rest of them caught up with Rita, Nellie and her captors had disappeared.
“All right, what do I put next?” Sadie stuck the end of the pen in her mouth and stared down at her untidy scrawl. “He’s never going to be able to read this mess.”
“He will if you write slower.” Polly bounced up and down on her bed. “You’re scribbling that as if the end of the world is coming.”
Leaning her elbows on Polly’s dressing table, Sadie sighed. “I’m not used to writing letters. I don’t write much at all, really. Once I got out of school I never bothered with it.”
“Well, you should, or you’ll forget how to do it.” She held out her hand. “Let me read it.”
Reluctantly, Sadie handed it over.
Polly scanned the few lines, a frown marring her face. “‘Dear soldier,’” she read out. “‘My name is Sadie Buttons and I work as a housemaid at the Manor House’” She looked up. “Is that all you wrote so far?”
Sadie shrugged. “I don’t know what to put.”
Polly shook her head and handed the letter back. “All right, start by telling him what you like.”
“I can’t put that in a letter!”
“Not that, silly.” Polly reached across the bed to push a hand under her pillow. “Here, read this. It’s from Marlene and she says what the soldiers want to hear.”
Sadie took the crumpled pages from her and read through them. “They want to know what my life is like and what’s going on in the village?”
“Yeah, ordinary sort of stuff. It’s what they miss most, Marlene says. Just the everyday goings on.”
“Sounds boring.” Sadie scowled. “Nothing exciting ever happens in Sitting Marsh.”
Polly gasped. “How can you say that, Sadie Buttons! Just yesterday a bloke got himself killed at a wedding.”
“I can’t tell a stranger that! He’d think we lived in a den of iniquity.”
“What does that mean?”
“I dunno, but it sounds evil.”
“Well, then, tell him about the summer fete, and about going to the pictures in North Horsham, and who your favorite film stars are, and what music you like, and your favorite song-”
“All right, all right,” Sadie muttered, scribbling like mad. “That’s enough to fill two letters.”
“Put something personal in it, too. They like that.”
Sadie dipped her pen in the inkwell, shook it, then paused. “Wonder if they’ll put Tess in prison for killing her boyfriend.”
“We don’t know if she did kill him yet.” Polly slid off the bed. “Like you said, it could’ve been an accident.”
“Well, I tell you one thing, her mother will be happy he’s dead.”
Polly gasped. “That’s an awful thing to say! No one should be happy he’s dead.”
“Well, at least she’ll be happy he won’t be marrying Tess. I heard her tell Tess that she never thought a daughter of hers would stoop so low as to associate with such filthy scum.”
Polly’s jaw dropped. “She said that? I didn’t think posh people talked like that.”
Sadie grinned. “You don’t know the half of it. I worked for a posh family in London for a while, and you wouldn’t believe half of what was going on there.”
Polly bounced back onto the bed. “Go on, tell me!”
Sadie shook her head. “Nah, I’ll tell you another time. I’ve got to get back to the manor before it gets too dark. I can’t see without me lights and it’s really creepy riding up the driveway in the pitch black.”
“Can’t you see in the moonlight?”
“I can when there’s a moon.” Sadie capped the pen, folded her letter, and got up from the chair. “There ain’t no moon tonight, though. Not for another three nights, anyway.”
Polly looked impressed. “How’d you know that?”
“I got a calendar, haven’t I.” Sadie handed her the letter. “Thanks for helping me with that.”
“I wasn’t much help.” Polly slid off the bed and picked up her own letter from the dressing table. She slipped Sadie’s letter inside and sealed it up. “There. I’ll post it tomorrow on me way up to the manor.”
“All right.” Sadie moved to the door. “How long do you think it will be before we get an answer?”
“Don’t know. I s’pose it depends on how quick it gets across the ocean.”
“It don’t seem right, does it. Those men so far away from home, and nobody bothers to even write them a letter.”
“Well, they’ve got lots from the village now. Marlene said they were real excited to get them, too.”
“Yeah.” Sadie smiled with pride. “We did a good thing, Polly.”
“Yes, we did.” Polly got up and hugged her friend. “Be careful riding home.”
Calling out to Polly’s ma, Sadie let herself out the front door and climbed on her bicycle. Already the night had crept in from the ocean, leaving just a pale pink glow above the dense woods. Sadie could see the silhouette of the old windmill as she cycled up the hill, and above it a formation of airplanes heading for the base. The rumble of their engines floated down as they circled inland and then faded into the shadows of the evening sky.
A moment later Sadie heard the roar of another engine. She looked up, expecting to see a straggler in the sky. No one liked to see that. It usually meant that something was wrong with the plane, and the pilot was having trouble getting home.
The sky appeared to be empty, and she realized that what she’d heard was the sound of a Jeep’s engine. She peered ahead in the shadowy twilight, watching for it to come around the bend. The Yanks never could remember which side of the road to drive on.
When she eventually caught sight of the Jeep, it wasn’t on the road at all. It was bouncing across the downs, heading for the woods. It was hard to see in the gathering darkness, but it looked like there were four people sitting in it.
Frowning, Sadie pedaled on. What would the Yanks be doing taking a Jeep into the woods? They had to be doing some training. “Maneuvers” they called it. She heard them now and again, when the wind was in the right direction. The soft explosions in the distance and bright flashes of light had scared the dickens out of the villagers until they got used to them.
Smiling to herself, she put her head down and pumped faster. It would soon be too dark to see, and she still had that driveway waiting for her.
Violet still wasn’t home when Elizabeth arrived back at the manor, and, more worried than ever, she made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to eat her Cornish pasties. They didn’t taste quite as good as she remembered, though she was generous enough to allow that her anxiety had probably tainted her appetite.
Rather than sit in absolute silence, she switched on the wireless and listened to the gentle strains of a Brahms symphony. She was halfway through her second pasty when the announcer’s voice declared solemnly, “This is British Broadcasting, and here is the news. The Allies bombed areas of France again this evening, inflicting heavy damage. Casualties are light, and the War Office reports-”
Elizabeth lunged for the radio and switched it off. The dogs, who had been sleeping under the table, leapt to their feet, growls rumbling in their throats.
“It’s all right, darlings.” Elizabeth dropped to her knees and patted both their heads. “It’s quite all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. She had seen no Jeeps in the courtyard when she’d put her motorcycle away. None at all. And there had been none at the pub. What was it Earl had said? Things are heating up. They were getting ready for something. Something big. No one would know about it until after it was underway. And then it would be too late.
Her fear became overwhelming, and she clasped both dogs to her, burying her face in their soft fur. She prayed as she’d never prayed before. She was still on her knees when the shrill jangle of the telephone shattered the silence.
Nellie winced as the Jeep bounced over roots and in and out of deep ruts between the trees. The jolts jarred her teeth and rattled her bones until she thought they must all be broken. What frightened her most was that the driver of the Jeep couldn’t possibly see in the dark, and she expected any minute to crash into a tree and be struck dead. It was somewhat of a relief when they burst out from the trees and swung into a narrow lane bordered by hedges too tall to see over, even in daylight.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, struggling to free herself from the rope that bound her hands.
“You’ll see,” muttered the driver.
She stared at her kidnappers, still numb with disbelief. Not only had she let herself be captured and tied up like a trussed chicken, the “men” had turned out to be young kids, probably still at school. After she’d dragged the scarf from one of their faces, the other two had uncovered theirs as well.
What a fool she was going to look, being kidnapped by schoolboys. “You’re going to be in dead trouble when they catch you,” she said, glaring at the boy seated next to her.
He shrugged. “So who’s going to catch us? That bunch of old biddies squealing like stuck pigs back there?”
“The American MPs, that’s who.” She smiled with grim satisfaction. “Just wait until they get hold of you. The Yanks can be really nasty when they get fired up. I’ve seen them in action.”
“I just bet you have,” the boy sneered, making her itch to slap his face.
“Shut up, Robbie,” the driver snapped. “Just ignore her. You’ll give too much away if you talk to her.”
“Robbie?” Nellie nodded. “Nice name that. Robbie who?”
The driver flung a vicious scowl at Robbie. “Now look what you’ve bleeding done. Now she knows your name, stupid.”
“Yeah, well who was stupid enough to let her pull his scarf off then? Bighead Stan, that’s who.”
“Robbie and Stan.” Nellie was fast losing her fear. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy herself. “Now we only have one name to go.” She looked at the boy seated next to Stan. “So what’s your name, love?”
The third boy didn’t answer her, and her apprehension returned as the Jeep swung off the road and came to a halt in front of a gate.
“Open it,” Stan ordered.
Neither of his companions moved.
“Open the bloody gate, Robbie,” Stan yelled.
“Why me? Why can’t Jimmy do it?”
Both boys turned around to glare at him. “If you can’t keep your bloody big mouth shut I’ll shut it for you,” Stan muttered. “Now get out and open the bloody gate.”
“All right, keep your hair on. I’m going.” Robbie climbed out and shoved the gate open. He waited until Stan had driven the Jeep into the field, then closed the gate behind it.
Nellie considered making a run for it, but with her hands tied behind her back she’d never make it. Better to wait until she could free herself and then escape. Her uneasiness increased as the Jeep bumped across the plowed ruts. It was pitch dark now, but she could see the outline of a huge barn in front of them.
They halted when they reached it, and this time Robbie jumped out without being asked. After dragging the huge doors open, he stood back and Stan drove the Jeep inside. Nellie’s spirits dropped as the doors squeaked shut behind her. The barn smelled of manure and dried hay, and the dust tickled her nose, making her sneeze.
A beam of light probed the darkness from a torch in Stan’s hand. He cut the engine and jumped out. “Bring her over here,” he ordered, pointing to a ladder leading up to a high ledge.
Despite her struggles, Nellie was helpless as the two boys grasped her arms and forced her over to the ladder. She was beginning to realize now that though they were much younger than her, she was powerless against them together. Once more her fear was thick in her throat.
Her hands were roughly set free, then Stan ordered, “Get up there!” and gave her a shove.
“Keep your filthy hands off me,” she snarled, managing to sound threatening in spite of the heavy hammering of her heart.
“Or you’ll what?” Stan said nastily.
“You’ll find out.” She decided to do what she was told for now. Until she could work out a way to escape from these three thugs. Then she’d see they got what they deserved. Scrambling up the ladder, she prayed they weren’t staring up her skirt.
Safely on the ledge, she was surprised to see a blanket laid out on the floor of the small loft. An oil lamp sat a few feet away with a box of matches in the saucer. The newspaper crumpled up on the edge of the blanket smelled of fish. Apparently her kidnappers had bought supper from the fish and chip shop in the High Street.
Nellie knew the owners, Ethel and Reg Clements. Once it was reported she was missing, maybe Ethel would remember she’d served three strangers and give George and Sid some idea where to start looking. By now Rita and the others must have told the constables what had happened.
To her immense relief, none of the boys climbed up after her. Instead, they dragged the ladder away from the ledge, so she had no way to get down, then left her in semi-darkness while they huddled below and started discussing what they were going to do next.
“We can’t leave her here all night,” Robbie said, his voice rising almost to a whine. “What are we going to do?”
“Shut up,” Stan ordered. “Let me think.”
“Where are we going to sleep if she’s up there?” Jimmy demanded.
“We’re not going to sleep. We’ve got work to do. We can sleep when we get back. Down here. There’s plenty of straw to sleep on.”
“Well, I’m going to get the blanket,” Robbie said, whining again. “The straw scratches me arms too much to sleep.”
“Too bad. You’ll have to put up with it tonight.”
“Why can’t she sleep down here?”
“ ’Cos she might be able to escape, stupid. If she’s stuck up there, there’s no way she can get past us.”
“I told you this was a lousy idea,” Robbie said, beginning to sound panicky. “I wish I’d never listened to you. I might have known something would go wrong. I think we should just go home and forget about the whole thing.”
“Not on your life!”
“Not bloody likely!”
The other two boys had spoken at once. Robbie started to say something else, then obviously thought better of it.
“Now,” Stan said, “we’ve got to take the Jeep back to the cliffs and push her over. Just like we planned. That way everyone will think it’s the three musketeers what did the rest of it. They’ll never think of looking for anyone else.”
“Until she tells them,” Jimmy said.
An ominous silence followed, while Nellie sat above them, holding her breath. Then Stan said brusquely, “We’ll worry about her when we’ve finished what we came to do. Now let’s get on with it.”
The scuffling sounds told Nellie they were climbing back into the Jeep. Then the doors were dragged open, the Jeep roared to life and the light flashed off, leaving her in total darkness. Moments later she heard the doors close again, and the sound of the Jeep’s engine gradually faded into silence.
She was alone. Her and the rats. It was not a pleasant thought.