Lady collendons cook, p.19
Lady Collendon's Cook, page 19
Beresford rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered this. Why would any British governmental agency want to surveille him anyway? Were his pro-Nazi sympathies the reason? He recalled Colonel Schrepps telling him about that new governmental department which had been set up to counteract unwanted foreign influence on the British mainland. Schrepps said it was called the AIU or Department J. Were Kearns and Brinkmann departmental operatives? Surely not. And what a waste of resources if that were true! And even if they were, what would they find out? That he, Geoffrey Beresford had been working tirelessly to improve British German relations? That was in everyone’s interests surely? And technically Germany was not even an enemy, at the moment.
Beresford stood at the large chalet window watching an attractive blonde woman walking a dog. They were strolling down to the beautiful sparkling lake which was just at the bottom of the hill. Life in these verdant hilly Bavarian climes looked so serene. A perfect place to retire. Perhaps more so, Beresford thought, now that Hitler had purged it of it’s unwanted ‘indigents’. Beresford felt no remorse that he approved of a man whose race hatred knew no bounds. Beresford was seeing the same seeds of xenophobia taking root in Britain and no doubt, it was quite an unsettling development. He personally knew Jewish bankers who were quite nervous of the prospect of Britain becoming a vassal of Germany. Beresford did his best to assure them that they were safe, for now, at any rate.
However, in a time when great things were afoot, when the fate of nations hung in the balance, the question of morals was an academic one. Beresford’s own morality was questionable. He justified this by reminding himself that the bigger picture was the thing that mattered. He believed that if there was a war, it could alter world history forever. If Germany succeeded in becoming the dominant force in Europe and the world, it would be the dawning of a Eutopia. Of course, Beresford also believed that there were certain groups who had no place in this new world. They would either have to be removed or given a subordinate role in the running of things. In his view the world overall would benefit.
The Fuhrer’s plans, he believed, essentially had the good of the world at heart. Even if it meant acting against insurgency and taking steps to remove the thorns in the side of the Christian community. To Beresford, this all made perfect sense and he was determined to do his bit and have a place in this new world. However, he wasn’t really against British interests as such as he could see the benefits of an amalgamation between the two great European powers. And when that occurred, when Britain succumbed, there would be treasures to be had beyond measure. It would be pickings for the elite and crumbs for the rest, and that was to be expected.
The investment of time and energy that Beresford had put into the Fefferberg affair would be rewarded, of that he was sure. And it was these thoughts which motivated him and made him excited and glad to be alive at such a time of change and destiny. Beresford smiled to himself as he slipped on his jacket to go for a walk. It occurred to him that he might go and introduce himself to the solitary lady by the lake with her dog. He had been cooped up in the chalet on his own for two days and he wanted to practice his German with a native. There was also another reason for his self-satisfied smile. When he got back to London, he was going to make life for Frau Brinkmann a little more difficult, wherever she was. She was now obviously in hiding, and he would use what means he had to flush her out.
There were sleuths at the Home Office who could track down the invisible man from a mile away. Beresford would engage their services to try to find her because there were urgent questions she needed to answer. He would also see what he could do about Kearns. Of course, there was nothing concrete to really go on, nothing he could accuse him of, no charges could be brought at the moment. However, that had never stopped Beresford in the past. The journalist from the Delhi Herald knew this to his cost.
As one of the future masters of the new world, Beresford could virtually do anything he wanted. He felt invincible. If that meant removing a questionable butler from service, then surely that was in everyone’s best interests. At the end of the day only good could come from it all. Beresford smiled again as he left the chalet. It was all good.
***
Despite the brilliant sunshine outside, little of it shone through the windows of the Reverend Damon Rung’s office. This was due to a tall wall blocking most of it off. Generally, Coldvale Prison faced south, although in terms of daylight, this had very little benefit for the inmates. They were generally only afforded small barred windows which were too high up in their cell to look out of. Alice was aware of the sunshine when she caught glimpses of it on her way to the Governor’s office under escort. Her spirits sank when she entered his office, as there was a gloom and the smell of harsh polish hanging heavily in the air. Paradoxically, the reach God, so it seemed, stopped outside the doors of this office and offered no comfort.
‘Ah, Mrs Green,’ Governor Rung said standing up at his desk. ‘I understand you wanted to see me. Normally I do not agree to such interviews. But I will grant you this one, if only because I know the Reverend Cope in your former diocese. Also, I have something important to tell you.’
Alice looked at the chair in front of the Governor’s desk, hoping that he would invite her to sit down. Instead, the Reverend Rung walked out from behind his desk and folded his arms. There was also a prison officer standing in the room by the door.
‘Why did you black out my letter?’ Alice asked.
‘Wait till the Governor gives you permission to speak, and address the Governor as sir,’ the prison officer said.
The Reverend waived his hand. ‘No that’s alright. Obviously, you are new here and are not familiar with our practices. But we have the right to censor any letter which is questionable. I did, however, make a note of the contents of that letter from a Mr Paul Murton, and I did not think it was suitable for you to read. It’s as simple as that.’
‘What did it say, sir?’ Alice asked.
‘Mrs Green, I have just told you that the subject matter was off limits. It also raised questions which should be taken up by the proper authorities.’
‘Really?’ Alice said. ‘From what I read, Paul did seem worried about something.’
The governor nodded. ‘And he was also making accusations.’
‘Against who, sir?’ she asked.
‘That is a matter which I can’t discuss with you,’ the Governor said. ‘However, I would like to suggest that you write to him, this Mr Paul Murton. Ask him not to write on such…controversial matters again. Or discuss the law. This is not a suitable subject. Things about ordinary and everyday life is fine. But matters which should be taken up by the police are not matters which should be openly written about. Certainly not in letters to this prison.’
Alice nodded as she tried to fathom what the governor was referring to. ‘I see, sir.’
‘Also, I have been informed that in the next thirty days you will be removed to another facility. This is the main reason I have granted you this interview, to tell you that.’
Alice widened her eyes. ‘Oh, why is that, sir?’
The Reverend Rung shook his head. ‘You’ve got a bad habit of asking too many questions, Mrs Green. I would suggest that you accept your fate and knuckle down to whatever is in store for you. Undoubtedly it will be for the good of your soul.’
Alice stared at him. ‘Yes, sir. I really hope so!’
None particularly the wiser, Alice returned to the kitchens to complete her day’s shift and made a point of getting Franny some hard-boiled eggs. It was an easy matter to slip them into her pinafore, and nobody was searched when leaving the area.
Back in the cell, Franny was delighted to receive her presents and immediately began to peel one of the eggs which she hastily stuffed into her mouth.
‘These have been laid by prison chickens,’ Alice said amused by Franny’s haste. ‘Nice and fresh.’
Franny smiled as she hungrily chewed her egg.
Although Jessie was not in the cell, she was standing on the other side of the wing in full view. She saw Alice giving the eggs to Franny, and immediately stormed off up the wing.
‘I’ll try and get you some bread next time,’ Alice said quite oblivious to this.
Franny’s face had changed. ‘Oh Gawd. Jessie has just seen you giving me the eggs!’
‘Really?’ Alice said.
They went to the door of the cell and looked across the wing. They could see Jessie and Big Jean hobnobbing at Big Jean’s cell door.
‘Looks like I’m in for some stick, then,’ Alice said.
‘Oh blimey!’ Franny replied.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alice exclaimed. ‘I’ve handled bigger fish than the likes of Big Jean. All she’s got going for her is a big mouth!’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Franny said handing the other eggs back to Alice. ‘You better give these to her.’
‘No, you keep them,’ Alice said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you. But if you give her the eggs, I won’t be very happy.’
Franny nodded and sighed. ‘Alright. Just don’t blame me if Jean tries to push you down the stairs. She has done that sort of thing before.’
Alice smiled. ‘Let her just try it!’
***
Paul Murton was adjusting his smart black bowtie in the mirror in his room, when there was a tap on the door. Paul glanced at the clock. It was still only six in the morning. He was puzzled as to who the caller could be at this hour. He hesitantly opened the door and found Mr Kearns standing there wearing a dark scowl on his face.
‘Oh, Mr Kearns,’ Paul said nervously.
‘Paul!’ Kearns said coming into the room and closing the door. ‘I’ve been told that you’ve been spreading stories about me,’ he said.
‘Stories? No,’ Paul replied backing away towards the dresser. ‘Who told you that?’
‘You know damn well who!’ Kearns said gruffly. ‘Shirley. Apparently, you said you saw me do something untoward.’
Paul’s eyes were wide. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he stuttered.
‘Paul, you’re a good footman, but you’re a very bad liar. What did you tell her exactly?’
Paul shook his head. ‘Nothing, Mr Kearns, honest. I mean, yeah, I remember I did mention something, but I didn’t say too much about it.’
Kearns slowly advanced on him. ‘What do you think you saw me do, Paul?’
‘I’m not sure, Mr Kearns.’
‘Come on Paul,’ Kearns said advancing with some menace. ‘You know what you saw, and you need to tell me, now!’
Paul eyes were scared. ‘If you touch me, Mr Kearns, I swear I’ll go straight to his Lordship!’
‘Just tell me what you think you saw, Paul?’
‘I might have seen you using a Morse code thingy in the attic, like one of those spies in the films,’ Paul said his voice rising. ‘But I might have been wrong.’
Kearns stood perfectly still as he surveyed the younger man. ‘Whatever you think you saw, I want you to forget. And I promise you this. If you so much as bring this matter up again, with anyone, I’ll come looking for you.’
Paul returned Kearns’ stare. ‘Yes, alright!’
‘Do you understand me?’ Kearns said stabbing Paul in the chest with his finger. ‘You’re a good man Paul, and I don’t want to sack you. But there are things going on in this household which you won’t understand, and you need to keep your trap shut. Just forget what you think you saw!’
‘Alright, alright,’ Paul said.
Kearns lowered his fists. ‘As long as we understand each other.’
Paul nodded quickly. ‘We do, Mr Kearns, we do!’
***
Armed with his list of prison addresses from the library in Yoevil, Fintan drove up to the dark forbidding-looking building. He then parked his van some way down the road for want of a more convenient spot. The building reminded Fintan of a castle and seemed every bit the kind of prison determined to keep its inmates behind high walls. The sign outside said: ‘Keelside Detention Center for Women’. With any luck, he would find Mrs Green here. He was so distracted by the general environs that he didn’t notice the police car parked out of sight down a side road next to the prison. He got out of the van and adjusted the hat on his head, getting into character as Hugh Edwards, the American who had come to visit his aunt. He knew it was a disguise unlikely to fool the authorities for very long.
The two policemen in their car immediately took note of the large man approaching the prison. They were in possession of the bulletin that had been issued from the Lincoln constabulary. It had a full description of Fintan and the crime he was wanted for. The policemen therefore knew straight away they might be dealing with a fugitive. So, they got out of their car and determinedly walked towards the big man, who had only just apparently noticed them. At the sight of them, Fintan’s whole body tensed as they seemed to be making their way towards him specifically. If he was going to run back to his van, he would have to race back well over sixty yards. He might not make it. Fintan’s eyes locked onto the two uniformed men and clenched his fists.
‘Hey, excuse me!’ one of the policemen called. ‘Can we have a word?’
Fintan paused indecisively. He didn’t want to have a physical confrontation with two burley policemen, as he could easily be overwhelmed. His only recourse was to make a run for it. After another second’s reflection, he turned and ran back towards his van while fumbling in his pocket for the ignition keys.
He grabbed them from his right-hand trouser pocket and then to his horror, dropped them. He quickly bent down to pick them up and saw that the two policemen were gaining on him.
‘Oi you stop!’ one shouted.
Fintan had lost precious seconds. He continued his dash towards the van, quickly inserting the keys into the driver’s door, and pulling it open. One of the policemen made a dive towards him from several feet away and managed to grab Fintan’s foot.
The other policeman was slower but was gradually catching up. Fintan violently kicked the first man away, then he slammed the van door, locked it and quickly started up the engine. The two dogged policemen tried to halt his progress by grabbing onto the door handle and climbing astride the bonnet, but they had lost their chance.
Fintan drove the van forward at high speed, then abruptly braked and reversed, shaking the policeman off. The officer on the bonnet rolled painfully onto the floor. Fintan then put his foot on the accelerator and drove like a madman out of the cul-de-sac where the prison was. The policemen picked themselves up off the floor and raced back to their own vehicle. Clearly there was going to be a car chase. Aware of what their intentions were, Fintan drove his van to the main road and then sped off in front of an approaching lorry. It almost caused a collision, though it put some space behind him and the police car which would doubtlessly be pursuing him. Fortunately, there was a junction coming up which offered three avenues of escape. Fintan instinctively chose the least busy one and drove at full speed down a hill and then through a small town. He could hear the police car’s klaxon ringing behind him.
He kept driving at speed, turning several times down convenient roads, eventually slowing down after fifteen minutes. All the while he had been constantly checking his rear-view mirror for signs of his pursuers. There was now none. It seemed that he had lost them. He had no idea where he was going. His instinct kept him driving while he tried to think of the next step. He didn’t know what to make of the arrival of the two policemen. Were they at the prison coincidentally, or were they were specifically looking for him? Had there been a tip off? It just made his mission of finding Alice harder.
After an hour of driving, he found himself in a country lane which led to a field. Here, he parked up for a rest and a re-evaluation of the situation. He noticed his petrol gauge was down significantly. He felt like a man lost, without a place to go and without any contacts. What he hoped to achieve by finding Mrs Green wasn’t clear in his own mind. He had always liked her and trusted her, though frankly, he didn’t really know what the point of this exercise was. He had been entertaining the wild notion that they could team up somehow. Clearly this was impractical as she had been sentenced to ten years in jail! It had also exposed him to the danger of being captured. Any future attempt to locate her was going to be fraught for him. He grabbed a bottle of cider from the back of the van and sat drinking as he weighed up the situation.
His body was aching from spending days in the van, sleeping in the back and taking his chances in the localities where he found himself. This couldn’t go on indefinitely. A wanted man had few options. He was vaguely aware that there might be a war with Germany, and so it occurred to him he could take a chance and join the army. A crazy idea, but that would be a novel way of hiding from the law! The police would be looking for him in civvy street while he would be in the forces as Hugh Edwards or some other name. What a joke, eh? At least he would be fed and have a place to sleep.
He climbed over the front seats of the van and laid down on the crude little bed in the back. He needed a few hours of shut-eye. The weather was beginning to worsen with spots of rain appearing on the windscreen. He was sure it would be safe to have a short rest, and then perhaps he could do a bit of night driving. What he badly needed was petrol. He had spotted a garage two miles back. He would revisit it in the early hours and see whether he could break in and get some urgent supplies. Some basic food would be ideal. With this in mind, he closed his eyes and drifted off, listening to the reassuring pitter patter of rain on the metal roof of the van.
