“They’re lucky indeed. Same time of year, wasn’t it?”
The housekeeper nodded. “Same day.” Then she began to draw back. “Well, then, I must be getting on. Shall I say who called?”
Maisie shook her head. “Not to worry. I’ll come back another time, perhaps.” She paused, then moved forward once more. “May I ask you, Mrs.—”
“Marchant. Mrs. Marchant.”
“Mrs. Marchant, you must remember the Zeppelin raid, in the war.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Terrible, it was. That’s why we try to forget, here in the village. Terrible thing to have happened. Now then, like I said, I’d better be getting on.” She closed the door.
“WELL, WE DIDN’T find any stash of silver and valuables, Miss.” Billy looked up from picking hops. “And we didn’t find any sign of a new path beaten through the woods.” He raised one hand and tapped his temple. “We was usin’ a bit of nous while we was about it, and still we didn’t find anythin’.”
“It’ll be alright. The boys won’t come to any terrible harm while they’re in the reformatory. We’ll prove them innocent, don’t you worry.”
“You seem pretty sure, Miss.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, Billy.”
Billy sighed. “Rotten luck, it is. Them boys’ve both got apprenticeships—and you know how ’ard it is to get a job these days. Mind you, they don’t ’ave to pay an apprentice much to do the job of a man, so it ain’t surprisin’— anymore than it’s surprisin’ that women are in jobs before men, on account of their wages bein’ lower.”
“And there are many women wanting for jobs too, Billy, a good number of them widows from the war with children to feed.”
“I tell you, Miss. What kind of a country are we livin’ in, eh? Where there’s people feelin’ pain in their bellies where food should be, and widows left wantin’—and little children dyin’ for need of the hospital.”
Maisie saw Billy’s anger and pain from his daughter’s death rising again, along with his dissatisfaction with his lot.
“And as for them down there, where did they all come from, anyway? They certainly ain’t from this country, and there they are, picking fruit and ’ops what we—we who come from ’ere—want to be picking.”
“I’m sure the people of Kent feel the same about Londoners, Billy.”
“Hmmph!” He looked down at his work again, without commenting.
“Well, I have to return to London tomorrow morning. I’m following some leads, Billy, so don’t lose heart.” She made to leave, then reached out to her assistant, placing her hand on his shoulder. “And don’t harden your heart, either, Billy. That heart is the finest part of you.”
IT WAS AS she left the hop-garden that Maisie reached for her old nurse’s watch. She usually pinned it to her jacket, and when she did not feel the cool silver at her touch, she realized it wasn’t there. She gasped. How could she not have noticed it missing? The watch had been a parting gift from her patroness, Lady Rowan Compton, before she left for nursing service on the battlefields of France in 1916. It had needed repair only once. She thought of it as her talisman, for it had remained with her even when she was wounded, when the casualty clearing station in which she was working was shelled. Simon was caught by the same shell, though his wounds had taken his mind, whereas hers had seared a welt into her scalp and a deeper scar into her soul.
She began to retrace her steps, walking an exact path back through the farm, searching around the area where she had parked the MG, and then, with a certain reticence, she picked her way across the waste ground again. Nothing.
Returning to the inn, Maisie entered via the residents’ door in time to hear raised voices in the public bar.
“Are you refusing to serve me?”
Maisie recognized the voice straightaway. It was Sandermere.
“I was just saying that you might have had a bit too much, that’s all. Now, if you’d like to take a seat, we’ll bring you a nice cup of tea.”
“I do not want
“Now, Mr. Sandermere—”
“Don’t ’now Mr. Sandermere’ me, you worm.” The man’s voice was thick, his language slurred. “I own this whole damn place, and I shall do as I please.” At the last word, there was the sound of breaking glass as a whisky tot hit the wall. “Now, get me my drink—and Whyte here will pay for it!”
She heard the drink being poured, then a few seconds elapsed, during which, she guessed, he had drunk the alcohol straight back. He cracked the glass down on the bar and left, saying, “That’s better. We’ve all got to stick together here in Heronsdene, in our loving little community, haven’t we? I’ll see myself out the back way—I’ll have a look at the remains of your sheds on the way.”
Maisie allowed a moment to pass, then went to the door, which she opened and shut again, before calling, “Hello! Anyone there?”
Fred came to the bar in the residents’ sitting room and greeted Maisie with cheer, though he seemed quite shaken, with ashen skin and trembling hands. His jaw was set, and his eyes were reddened.
“Ah, Miss Dobbs, I know exactly why you’re here.” He reached under the bar and brought out her watch.
“Oh, wonderful! I don’t know where I would be without that. I am so glad you found it.”
