Sara heard herself laugh, ‘Well, you tell him he’d best come back here. Who’s he afraid of, you, or me?’
‘I think both on us, M’m.’
‘Well, tell him not to be a fool.’
It was not until they were almost back at the Manor that Sara told Mildred about Lusitania.
Vera Bolton waited near the door to say that Mr Charles had telephoned, ‘Wanted to speak to Mrs Mildred, urgent.’
‘Might I, Sara? He’ll have heard about Lusitania, and be worried for you, no doubt.’
But it was not about that disaster. Charles had just been told of the attack on Mary Anne, so now Sara had to help Mildred in her pain and anxiety. There were no details. Just that she had been attacked by a patient at the hospital in Rouen, and was being brought home on Monday.
‘I feel so helpless.’ Mildred’s eyes were red-ringed. ‘It’s stupid. They say she’s not seriously ill, but I’m desperate to know what’s happened.’
Yes, Sara thought, and so am I – desperate to know what’s happened to Richard.
Mildred had already decided she should get back to London the next day, Saturday, ‘to be with Charles.’
There was no further news that night. Lord, Sara thought, these Railton women. Am I like that? Mildred had kept up a constant monologue concerning Mary Anne, talking about her childhood, and making up possible theories about what could have happened. She knew about Dick Farthing; and that Sara was shredded with worry; yet all she spoke of was Mary Anne. No comfort there.
Mildred left on the early Saturday train, and, by evening, the panic had grown in Sara’s mind. If Dick was, indeed, alive, he would have been in touch with her by now. She cursed herself. Damn the war; damn everything; damn herself for being such a silly little moralistic prude. She should have married him straight away. At least she would have been his wife – or his widow.
She tried to sleep, but no sleep came, and she tossed and turned all night, falling into a light doze.
She dreamed – walking under the sea, oddly, by moonlight, the moon itself rising under the water to reveal a tunnel of twisted metal among the rocks and fishes; then the moon turned to blood, and it was sunset. The fishes changed into men. The men appeared to be alive, beckoning to her, but they were dead, and she knew the beckoning was the effect of the current. One of the men reached out and took her by the hand, as if to lead her through the maze of metal. She looked away, then back, and it was Richard’s hand she was holding. He was white in death, his face wrinkled and like bleached parchment, as though it had been under bandages for six months. He walked with her down an aisle of wrecks towards Mildred who carried the body of Mary Anne. Sara realized that she wore a wedding dress, but it was dirty and stained with great streaks of blood. Dick took her hand more firmly, and began to pull her upwards, carrying her to the surface. They broke through, and she was swimming. Nearby, a buoy clanged its bell. She woke, suddenly, and the bell was the telephone ringing in the hall downstairs.
The clock showed a quarter to six in the morning, and the ringing which had broken her dream, stopped suddenly. A few moments later there was a knock at the door.
It was Vera, dressed and busy already, her face broken by a broad smile. ‘The telephone,’ she made urgent motions with her hand, repeating, ‘the telephone; telephone.’
Her wrap tightly around her, Sara’s hand quivered as she tucked the earpiece behind her hair and gave a tentative ‘Hallo?’
‘I couldn’t let you know before this. I’m safe.’
Sara let out a short moan, part pain and part relief, at the sound of Dick Farthing’s voice.
*
‘Hunter? Jack Hunter? That perverted man your father doted on?’ Mildred’s brow creased.
Charles told her only what he knew. Mary Anne was in St Thomas’s Hospital. The doctors said she was well.
‘The amazing thing is this German officer – Buelow, one of their gunners,’ Charles continued, telling the whole story. ‘There’s no doubt he saved her life’
‘A Hun saved her? But…’
‘It’s certain. Kell’s been to speak to him, and we have permission to keep him in one of our places once he’s fit enough to be moved. Fellow’s been in appalling shock. But he saved our daughter, Mildred. We owe him Mary Anne’s life.’
She wept quietly. ‘But how much of this terrible story’s going to get out, Charles? I mean, what in God’s name are her chances in the world? A young girl who’s been…’
‘Raped,’ said Charles firmly. ‘You can’t run away from it, Mildred.’
‘Oh my God, the shame, we’ll never…’
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘She’ll have to appear at the Court Martial, and so will the Hun. That’ll be kept quiet. I don’t think you need worry overmuch about that. There’ll be the civil action, of course.’
‘Civil? To do with Mary Anne?’
‘The police in Oxfordshire want to talk to him. The murder of a child just before the war. Now, we can go and see her.’
Mildred turned away, looking out of the window at the spring shower, lightly sprinkling the trees in the street. Softly, she said, ‘I don’t know if I can face seeing her.’
*
The clothes he stood up in; a few marks; his knife; the Mauser pistol; two sets of forged papers, and what was in his head: this was James’ inheritance from C and Giles Railton. Natural instinct told him to get out, run for Switzerland. But he took a train to the suburb of Wilmersdorf, called in at the nearest post office and sent yet another telegram, then went in search of the last address they had given him.
The contact was a Lutheran minister who had studied at, among other places, Oxford. It was there he had met various men who rose through the years into places of importance in the Foreign Office. Pastor Bittrich received some of these men into his home during the summers between 1908 and 1914. It was during this time he indicated that, should there be a war between Germany and England, he would use all his efforts to help the English cause. They even gave him a password, should they need his assistance.
The house was a pleasant old place off Gasterstrasse, the street tree-lined, almost rural. James went to the front door and knocked. It was opened by a fat, apple-faced maid, who said the Pastor was out visiting, but would soon be back. Would Herr Grabben – James had changed identities again – care to wait for him?
Herr Grabben sat in the parlour, with the baleful eyes of a crucified Christ looking down from a lithograph above the mantel.
When Pastor Bittrich arrived, James rose to greet him. The man was tall, thin, and with a perpetually surprised expression.
James spoke in German: ‘I have a message for you, Pastor. We have a mutual friend who asks me to tell you that gentlemen in England, now a-bed, shall think themselves accursed they were not here.’
The gaunt Pastor turned to look up at Christ on the Cross, and noticed there was mildew beginning to form around one of the Roman soldier’s helmets. ‘And hold their manhood cheap, whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day,’ he replied.
James did not see the colour drain from the Pastor’s face, or the look of genuine fear cross behind the man’s eyes. ‘You have other messages?’ the Pastor asked.
‘No. I wish to stay with you. Quietly, and only for a day or two. Until I can make arrangements.’ He really meant decisions. ‘I shall be no trouble.’
When the Pastor turned he was smiling, ‘You are welcome.’ He extended a hand, ‘You will be no trouble.’
*
Caspar now used his peg-leg all the time, and there was talk of some kind of a new artificial arm. He sat in C’s outer office, going through the information from the network they called Frankignoul, and the other one, recently set up by Catholics in Belgium. The latter was known as Biscops, but, because of its religious connections, C referred to it as the Sacré Coeur Ring. It was Caspar’s job to mark up points of special interest for C. He also took care of incoming signals, such as the two which had
caused so much excitement that morning, and were the cause of his grandfather’s arrival at C’s Headquarters.
Giles had paused to talk to Caspar, on his way in, a few minutes before. He had even mentioned Sacré Coeur. Giles had a personal interest in that network, for he had shifted Monique, his private agent, from Paris into Belgium, where she now appeared to be successfully acting as a postman, running information over the German lines, into France.
Behind C’s door, Caspar’s grandfather was hearing of the latest developments – of the signals from sources Pearl and Ruby.
‘He’s identified the subject then?’ Giles smiled.
‘You can see for yourself. Even down to the address. She’s there, in Berlin, Giles. The question now is what he should do.’
‘He’s your man.’ Giles, having set the business in motion, and placed his nephew in the field, was quite willing to let the matter rest. ‘What of Seagull?’
It was the first they had heard from Madeline Drew via her contact Ruby, since she had left England. The message was lengthy, giving details of regiments and divisions being sent from Germany to the Western Front. As Giles remarked, the intelligence contained nothing they had not learned already. The sting in Seagull’s message came at the end, for the final sentence, when deciphered, read: HINTS THAT I AM TO BE ORDERED BACK INTO ENGLAND PLEASE ADVISE.
‘And how the devil can we advise?’ C growled.
Giles hid his feelings. ‘Again, she’s yours – admittedly run by Kell’s people when she was here; but advice is up to you. I’d leave it alone, C. If she returns we’ll soon know. What about the real things? Are we performing a useful service?’ He did not appear to expect a reply, for he went straight on, changing the question, ‘And what about this nurse? The Cavell woman?’
Nurse Edith Cavell ran a clinic in Brussels. The clinic served as a lifeline staging post to get both wounded and agents back to England.
‘Not one of mine. She’s helped get a lot of people out of Belgium, but as far as I’m concerned she’s not on the books. I…’
It was at this moment that Caspar knocked on the door. ‘Another signal from Peewit, sir.’
C examined the deciphered message and cursed quietly. ‘They’ve got the Dimpling woman. I think the Wilmersdorf contact’s safe, but who’s to tell?’
Giles rose. ‘Don’t worry. If Peewit performs, he performs.’
When he had gone, C stared at the door wondering at the incredible lack of feeling within Giles Railton. He thought for a few moments, then summoned Caspar. Within an hour a signal had gone to Peewit’s Swiss contact, Pearl. When decoded it read: PEEWIT TO BE ORDERED BACK TO LONDON BY FASTEST AND MOST SECURE ROUTE STOP URGENT AND OF PRIME IMPORTANCE STOP C
*
‘I think that’s terribly brave – Mr Frohman quoting from Peter Pan. Thank heaven you got away.’
‘He didn’t, I fear, Sara.’
She had sent all the servants to bed, and cooked their meal herself. Sara was becoming more skilled with each day she spent at Redhill.
When Dick had finally arrived, during the early afternoon, she had seen to it that he went straight to bed. He bathed and did as he was told, but asked to be wakened in time for dinner.
She roused him at eight-thirty, and now, over a saddle of lamb, listened to his story.
‘Please tell me.’ She reached across for his hand.
He spoke quietly, telling how, after Frohman had spoken, they had become separated by a crush of panic-stricken passengers. ‘It really was pretty awful’
In the end, he had begun to climb aft up the now wildly tilting deck. ‘There was a sailor who had got his legs crushed. He just lay there, and knew there was nothing anyone could do for him. He held out his life jacket and said to me, “Take it, Guv’nor. It’s a long jump, but you’ll stand a chance.”’
Dick had jumped. ‘Tried to choose a spot well away from the folk in the water, and I thought I wouldn’t live through it. But I did. The water was quite cold. I remember getting a long way from the ship, lying on my back and drifting. She was at a really crazy angle, like some toy a kid had thrown into shallow water; the bows seemed to be skewered on the ocean bed, and the screws were way out, in the air. Then she went down. It must have been the boilers that blew, but they didn’t go with a bang, it was more like a moan, as though the ship was crying out. Then the sea boiled round, and that was the last I remembered until I woke up in a hospital.’
‘And you didn’t let me know.’
Dick said that his one thought was to get out. ‘I felt well enough. I had all my documents, so I just got up and dressed – they had dried my clothes. I walked out, took a train to Dublin and then got on a boat. I called you as soon as I could.’
She sat, silent for a moment, gazing at him. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,’ she said. ‘What are your plans?’
He gave a diffident shrug. ‘I want to fight Germans. Also I must talk with Giles. I’ve messages for him.’
‘Oh?’ not angry, but cold. ‘You think Lusitania will bring your country into the war?’ There was a definite coolness now.
‘President Wilson is set against it, but he’ll have to bring the USA in sooner or later. Sara?’
‘Yes?’ Very distant.
‘Before I do anything else; see Giles, enlist; there’s something more important to me than anything else.’ He looked straight into her eyes. ‘The last time I was here, we made a pledge. I haven’t changed, Sara. I love you. You’re the dearest thing in all the world to me, and I want to marry you. If you need me to go down on my knees, then I will. But I’m asking you now. Will you be my wife?’
The pause reached out, tense, uncertain. In his mind Dick heard that terrible rumbling moan as the Lusitania had gone down. Then Sara began to speak.
‘I… I, Oh, Dick…’
‘Please,’ softly.
‘I was going to say, yes but not yet. Made my mind up after Caspar, and the terrible thing that’s happened to young Rupert. I wanted to marry you, because I love you so very dearly, but it wasn’t right while the killing was going on and on. But now… Well…’ She pushed back her chair. ‘Dick, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you as soon as you like.’
They collided into each other’s arms, and stayed close for what seemed like an hour. ‘We’ll go up to London tomorrow. Choose a ring, yea?’ He grinned at her. ‘Then, we can make some decisions – announcement and things. Isn’t that the right thing to do?’ He felt very hot, and she was pressing her body close to his.
‘We’ll do whatever you want, Richard. Whatever. I love you, and I think we should do something about it now – straight away.’
Dick allowed her to lead him up the stairs to her bedroom. Rings, dates, announcements and all the paraphernalia of the wedding were swept to one side. The world was reduced to immediate needs, and the basic outward signs of their love, as they exchanged bodies, locked themselves together, becoming as one.
*
The Pastor gave him potato soup, and some pleasant kind of stew. They spoke little, and, after the meal, James was shown to a small room under the eaves of the house.
‘You will be safe here, for a few days at least,’ said the man of God; and James lay down, fully dressed, and fell into a deep sleep.
He dreamed of sounds – a piano playing Bach and Liszt. He did not hear the Pastor leave the house in the early hours, nor the men arrive at dawn. The first he knew was someone shaking him, roughly. His hand went to the pillow, but the Mauser was not there.
‘You are Gustav Franke?’ There were two men, both heavy and with the authoritative, brusque manner of policemen.
Grasping for consciousness, climbing up from sleep, James said no, and that his name was Grabben.
‘We think it’s Franke,’ one of the men said.
‘You will come with us.’ The other began to pull him from the bed. James was not allowed to argue.
He saw neither the thin Pastor, nor the apple-faced housekeeper, as they took him downstairs a
nd out into a waiting car.
Chapter Nine
When Mary Anne first returned from hospital she was like a mouse, jumping in fear at the slightest noise. Mildred forced herself to put on a brave face, though she felt mortified at what had happened to her daughter. On the second night of Mary Anne’s return Mildred went up to the nursery and found the girl playing with her little brother. She shouted at Mary Anne to leave the child alone. It was as though Mildred felt that Mary Anne was a contaminating influence.
Because Mary Anne had allowed such a terrible thing to happen, she saw the girl as a kind of carrier of evil, who could pass on the sins of the flesh to others. Her dislike of sexual congress, so marked after her experience with William Arthur’s birth, became more pronounced. All memory of how good things had once been now dwindled and disappeared.
She began to go to Church more often, sometimes as many as three services on Sunday, and four or five times during the week. If there had not been some dreadful sexual desire within her daughter to begin with, she would never have become a victim, she reasoned illogically.
Then there was the Court Martial.
Mildred refused to go, or be any comfort to her daughter. But Charles stood by the girl, travelled with her to Aldershot, and sat with her in the closed military court, proud of the way in which she gave her evidence.
They brought Buelow down from London, and it appeared he had learned a little English, though most of the evidence was given through a translator. On the final day, the President of the Court commended Kapitan Otto Buelow for his act, making it plain that he was responsible for saving Nurse Railton’s life.
Corporal Jack Hunter was sentenced to a dishonourable discharge, and fifteen years’ hard labour in a civil prison. Once he was moved into civil custody, the authorities talked with him about other matters. (Hunter was charged a month later with the murder of the child, Emma Gittins. He appeared at the Central Criminal Court in the following April where he pleaded guilty, was sentenced to death, and hanged at Wandsworth Prison on 26 June 1916.) On their way home, Mary Anne asked her father if he thought there was any way she could see the German, Buelow. ‘I haven’t even had a chance to thank him.’