He went back to the room. Ben and Frank were still asleep. David thought of waking Ben and telling him what he had overheard, but Frank might wake as well and he didn’t know how he would react. He would wait until the morning. He lay back down on his camp bed, shaking with anger. He knew he wouldn’t sleep now.
At shortly before seven, by his watch, David heard people moving in the corridors outside. It was beginning to get light, though with the heavy curtains drawn the room was still dark. Frank and Ben were still asleep. David got up, stretched, then padded over to the window. The meeting to decide their fate would be going on now. He parted the heavy curtains and looked out.
The beauty of the scene outside made him catch his breath. Wide lawns stippled with frost dropped away to a reed-fringed lake with still, clear waters where ducks swam, leaving a broad wake behind them. A red sun was just clearing the trees, and there were fragments of pink-tinged cloud in the blue sky. Beyond the lake, more lawns rose towards thick woodland, a mixture of trees, some with bare branches, others evergreens. The impact of the sharp colours was almost physical after the last few days in the smog.
Behind him he heard Ben stir. Ben went to look at Frank, then came over to stand beside David. He looked at the view and whistled. ‘That’s somethin’, is it no’?’
‘Where are we?’
There was a sharp knock at the door. As David and Ben turned, Barry, the Welshman they had met last night, came in. He was tired-looking, unshaven. To David’s astonishment, he was followed by two young housemaids in uniform, black skirts and blouses, white pinafores and caps, each carrying a large tray loaded with food.
Barry nodded. ‘’Morning.’ He looked at Ben. ‘You need to get Dr Muncaster awake. Have some breakfast and a quick wash and shave, then we need you downstairs. Spruce yourselves up a bit, there’s some shaving stuff in the toilet up the hall.’ He went over to Frank and looked down at him. ‘Will he be all right to answer some questions?’
‘Leave him,’ Ben said sharply. ‘I’ll get him up. He’ll be fine. We’d better be with him, though, or he’ll get scared.’
Barry nodded. ‘All right.’
‘What d’ye want to ask him?’
The man looked at them seriously. ‘It won’t be me, mate. Some of the bigwigs have been talking about the next step for you people. You’ll be talking to them. Come on now, girls, leave those trays.’
After the maids and Barry left the room there was silence for a moment, then David said, quietly, ‘Don’t wake Frank just yet. Listen, I found something out last night. You should know.’
As Ben listened his face darkened and he clenched his fists. ‘Bastards,’ he breathed. ‘You mean they might try to force this secret out of him for themselves, after what he was promised, or even fuckin’ kill him? What, take him out and shoot him on that terrace?’
‘Keep your voice down. I don’t know. But there’s nothing we can do, we’re too closely guarded.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Except make sure we stay right by Frank, and if it looks as though they’re going down that road, give him one of these.’ He took the cyanide pill from his pocket and held it out. ‘Did you transfer yours when you changed into your uniform?’
‘Aye. ’Course I did.’ He stared at David. ‘If we do that, we’ll really be in the shit.’
‘I don’t care,’ David said. ‘I’ve had enough, I won’t stand for it.’
Ben nodded agreement. David couldn’t help wondering, would Ben’s reaction have been different if it were the Russians who wanted Frank’s secret? Who knew? Everything was in flux now, with the three of them at the centre.
Frank was hard to wake, a little groggy at first, but he came to himself as they ate. He asked Ben for his morning pill. Ben said he would ask the staff, exchanging a look with David and shaking his head slightly; if the worst came to the worst Frank should be fully awake. They went to the little toilet in turns to wash and shave. When they returned to the room, Ben told Frank some people wanted to talk to them.
‘What about?’ His eyes were instantly wary.
‘We’re no’ sure.’ Ben looked at David. ‘Might be a committee of bigwigs, we think. To talk about what’s to happen to us next. That’s what we hope anyway.’
Frank dropped his knife and fork with a clatter. ‘What do you mean by that? What else could it be? Bigwigs? You said nobody would ask about my brother, about what happened, they’d just try to get me out to America.’ He turned to David. ‘I can’t tell them, I won’t—’
‘A promise is a promise,’ David said steadily. ‘It’s all right, we’ll be with you.’
Ben looked into Frank’s eyes. ‘All the way, pal,’ he said. ‘Understand? All the way.’
TWO SOLDIERS WITH RIFLES LED THEM downstairs, to a long corridor. At the far end they could hear several voices behind a closed door. They were taken into another, nearer room, a big window giving a view of the parkland outside. The room was some sort of study, crowded with paintings, dominated by a large desk with a comfortable chair behind it. It had a high, arched oak-beamed roof, medieval or Tudor; this must be the oldest part of the house. There was a bust of Napoleon on the desk, another of Nelson. A row of hard chairs stood against one wall. The three of them were told to sit there and wait.
Frank spoke in a quiet, fierce tone David had never heard from him before, almost hissing, ‘I won’t tell them anything, I
‘Maybe they won’t ask.’
‘Give me one of your pills, now, please.’
Ben and David exchanged a look. If they gave him one he might just take it right away. ‘No,’ Ben said. Frank sat forward, clutching his hands together.
‘I
‘We’ll sort it for you,’ Ben said.
There were sounds from outside, a muted hubbub of voices; the door at the far end of the corridor had opened. Several pairs of footsteps approached the room, and the door opened. A tall, stern-looking man in early middle age came in. He was immaculately dressed in a dark suit, the edge of a snow-white handkerchief projecting from his breast pocket. He said, ‘Stand up, please, gentlemen.’
They stood. Two armed soldiers came in, taking their places on each side of the door. They were followed by a very old man, walking with the aid of a stick. He was heavily built, stooped, his big round head with its sparse white hair thrust forward. He wore an extraordinary outfit, a sort of blue boiler suit, open-necked, a shirt and spotted bow tie beneath. David was astonished by how old Winston Churchill had become; the pictures of him on the ‘Wanted’ posters dated from years ago. The Head of the British Resistance walked slowly round the desk and sat down heavily. He looked pale, exhausted. Only when he had seated himself did Churchill turn and look at the three men standing by their chairs. It was a fierce, challenging look, the blue eyes still keen, the big square chin and the lower lip thrust out aggressively though the skin at the neck beneath was loose and wrinkled. Frank leaned forward, in a sort of stoop of his own, staring at Churchill in astonishment and terror. The tall man in the suit went and stood beside Churchill’s desk.
‘So, you got here,’ Churchill growled in the deep, lisping voice David remembered from thirties newsreels.
‘Yes, sir,’ he answered.
‘At much cost in life and trouble, Mr Colville tells me.’ He nodded at the man in the suit, who was staring at them expressionlessly.
‘I’m afraid so, sir,’ David said.
‘Hitler is dead,’ Churchill said gravely. ‘You have heard?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That evil man.’ There was weariness in his voice. ‘Who knows what will happen in Germany now? Perhaps they will make peace with what is left of Russia.’ The eyes flashed. ‘But Germany is still a terrible enemy.’ He looked at Colville. ‘They are still here, on the Isle of Wight, in Senate House, no doubt they have representatives in these wretched camps where they have taken the Jews. Britain is still under their fist, Nazi fingers in every dark corner of the state.’ He scowled, knitting his brows, lost in thought for a moment. Then he looked directly at Frank. David tensed, leaning an inch closer to his friend.
