Flight of a Witch

here, where he couldn’t double back to remove, in his last despair, the one really dangerous witness.

But if he couldn’t be sure of her, if he feared, as he well might, that under pressure she might break down at last and betray him, then from this moment on Annet’s life was in great danger. If you’re frightened to death, you stop loving, you stop thinking or feeling but in one desperate plane of reference, you fight for your life, and kill whatever threatens it. These, at least, thought Bunty, must be the reactions of an unstable young creature, not yet mature, the kind of boy who could have committed that brutal, opportunist crime in the shop in Bloome Street. The commonplace of today, the current misdemeanour, cosh the shopkeeper, clear the till, run; quick money to pay for this and future sprees, in three easy movements. It happens all the time. Preferably old men or old women in back- street shops, because they’re so often solitary. No, the boy who did that wouldn’t keep his love intact for long when it was his life or Annet’s.

Bunty got up suddenly and went to the telephone in the hall. It wasn’t so much that she was really anxious about her offspring; just a sudden unwillingness to be alone with this line of thought any longer, and a feeling that company would be helpful. It might even help her to think. How could she leave alone a problem that was tormenting George?

‘Eve? You haven’t got Dominic there, have you?’

‘I did have, sweetie, for about ten minutes, but that was half an hour ago. They blew in and went into a huddle in the corner, and then they up and made a phone call, and went off again. They brought the paper in with them. I did wonder,’ said Eve Mallindine, resigning the idea reluctantly, ‘if they’d come to you. They never said a word. And when I looked at the “News” – well, you’ll have seen it.’

‘Yes,’ said Bunty, and pondered, jutting a dubious lip. ‘Eve – they were where they said they were, surely? Over the week-end? They couldn’t, either of them—’

‘No,’ said Eve, firmly and serenely, ‘they couldn’t. Neither of them. Not in any circumstances.’

‘No, of course not! My God, I must be going round the bend. It’s such hell growing up, that’s all. And I’m afraid to think we’ve got angels instead of boys – such arrogance! And there was the first time, for Miles – don’t shoot me down in flames, but it did happen.’

‘Listen, honey,’ said Eve’s bright, confident voice, for once subdued into a wholly private and unmocking tenderness, ‘it didn’t happen. Not even that once. Don’t tell anyone else. I promised Miles I wouldn’t ask him anything, or tell anything, and I wouldn’t now if we weren’t all in a pretty sticky situation. Miles never tried to run away anywhere, with or without Annet Beck. So you can put that out of your mind.’

‘But they were picked up at the station,’ said Bunty blankly, ‘with two cases. And two tickets to London.’

‘So they were. Two cases. But both of them were Annet’s.’

‘Both of them? But Bill would have known! For goodness’ sake! He took Annet home with one case, and brought Miles back with the other. Do you mean to tell me he doesn’t know the family luggage?’

Eve said, with curiosity, wonder, and not a little envy: ‘You know, George must be a tidy-minded man, to inspire such confidence in husbands. Bill?’ A brief, affectionate hoot of laughter patted his name on the head and reduced him to size. ‘Bill doesn’t know his own shirts. Every time we dig the cases out of the attic to pack, he swears he’s never seen half of them before. “When did we buy this thing, darling?” “I don’t remember this – did we pinch it somewhere?” I could filch a tie out of his drawer and give it him for his birthday, and he wouldn’t know.’

‘But how, then? I mean—’

‘I don’t know, I never asked. When Bill dropped on them and jumped to conclusions, Miles arranged it that way, that’s all. And she let him. I got the case back to Annet afterwards. I took advantage of Regina Blacklock’s car to do it, but she never knew, and you knew Braidie, he was so correct he was stone-deaf to everything but what he was supposed to hear. It was very easy, I just telephoned to Annet at the hall, and asked her to get Braidie to call here when he took her home, some day when her parents would be out. So I know what I’m talking about, my love. I’d thought the poor lamb had bought it specially for the jaunt, you see, and I started to unpack it, out of pure kindness of heart and helpfulness. Thank God Bill wasn’t there! All Annet’s best frocks! You should have seen his face! After he’d covered up for her so nobly, and then to see me meddling. I tell you, I had the honour of all mothers in my hands.’

‘I’ll be cheering in a minute,’ said Bunty, swallowing a sound that indicated other possibilities. ‘All right, I’m grateful, you preserved our reputation most nobly. But if you expect me to live up to your record, and not ask questions—’

‘Wouldn’t be any good, darling, I don’t know any more answers.’

‘Not even who the second ticket was for?’

‘That least of all. Because Miles doesn’t know it, either.’

‘Then I give up! Why should he—’

But she stopped there, because there could be only one reason, and it made her stand back and look again at young Miles, with sympathy and respect, and a sudden flurry of consternation and dismay. If he was reaching after maturity at this rate, without any childish desire for acknowledgement or payment or praise, how far behind could Dominic be? She didn’t want them men too soon, she needed a little time yet to get used to it, even though the symptoms had begun already so long ago. She caught her breath in a rueful giggle, and said: ‘Eve, do you suppose there’s an evening class we could join – on growing old gracefully?’

She expected something profane and cheering from Eve in return, but there was blank silence, as though her friend had withdrawn altogether and cut off the connection. On Bunty, too, the abrupt chill of realisation descended, freezing her where she stood.

‘Bunty—’ said Eve’s voice, slowly and delicately.

‘Yes, I’m still here. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Eve. ‘Great minds!’

‘Could it be the same person? Since it wasn’t Miles, that time – could it be? Then anything Miles knows – anything! – may be vital. Anything she ever said to him then, a name or something short of a name. Anything he noticed about her. Anyone he saw her with. She relied on him, she let him help her, she may have trusted him with at least a clue.’