Mrs. Willis paused. Maisie’s eyes met Stratton’s. He was prepared to wait.
“You know, I can’t say as I know quite what happened next. It was as if one minute there we were, going along nicely, this lovely little family. We weren’t well-off, not by any means, but we got by with a bit of room to spare, ’specially now that the boys were bringing something home. Then it all changed. Tony and Ernie came home the next day—they’d been very quiet—and they’d joined up. Enlisted! Their father and me, we just couldn’t believe it. Everything crumbled, my house crumbled. Frederick said that he couldn’t have his boys joining up without him to look after them. He was still a young man, really. Not even forty. He was too old on paper, but the enlisting office wasn’t that picky, as long as you were a fit man. Joined up with them, he did, and of course, they were together with all the other men and boys who’d enlisted from Waite’s.” Mrs. Willis looked up into Maisie’s eyes again. “And do you know, the thing was that I still didn’t know then what had caused it all, what had made them run off and do it. Frederick said it was that being a soldier made them feel big, that they were still so wet behind the ears, they didn’t know what it was really all about. I don’t think any of us did.”
Mrs. Willis fell silent. The WPC moved toward Mrs. Willis, but Stratton placed a hand on her arm.
“It was Will that told us. Mind you, word had already started to go around, about the Waite girl and those friends of hers with their little white feathers. Stupid, stupid, stupid girls.” She balled her fists and pounded her knees. Tears began to flow again as she spoke. “Frederick told Will—I can see him now, standing in the doorway on the day they left, all in uniform, a little family army marching off to war—‘You look after your mother, my boy. You stay here and do the work for me and your brothers.’” She placed a hand on her chest. “But the silly little beggar wouldn’t listen. Too young by half, he was, too young by half. He had to go and join up, didn’t he? Said that no one called the Willis men cowards, that if his dad and brothers were over there, then he’d go too. Oh, I wish his father had been there to stop him. ‘You’ll be all right, Mum, Mr. Waite will look after you, all the families will be all right. Then we’ll all be home again before you know it.’ But they weren’t. Even Will, he might have come home in body, but he never came home to me again, not as my Will.” Mrs. Willis slumped forward, crying into her hands. Maisie moved to her side. “I lost them all, I lost them because of those wicked, wicked girls. And . . . and . . . I just couldn’t bear it anymore. I just couldn’t bear the . . . the . . . ache. . . .”
Maisie was aware of the silence of the group watching, but did not look back. She placed a comforting arm around Mrs. Willis.
“It was like a knife through my heart,” the woman sobbed. “The man came with the telegram, and at first I couldn’t do a thing. I couldn’t hear, couldn’t even breathe. I just stood there like I’d been frozen.” Mrs. Willis pressed her hand to her heart. “The man said, ‘I’m sorry, love’ and there I was, completely alone. I was in a daze, a terrible daze, with this flimsy piece of paper in my hand, wondering, Which one?
Maisie closed her eyes and remembered the last three names commemorated in hand-made tiles above the door of Joseph Waite’s shop on Oxford Street: Frederick Willis, Anthony Frederick Willis, Ernest James Willis. She spoke softly, yet took care to ensure that Stratton could hear all that was said.
“Is that why an overdose of morphine wasn’t enough?”
Mrs. Willis nodded. “I drugged them first. I wanted them to hear, before they died. I didn’t want them to walk away or ask me to leave. I wanted them to die as they listened to me tell them about my boys. I wanted them to know
“And then you left the white feathers behind?”
“Yes. I left them behind. If their spirits lingered, I wanted them to linger in torment. I wanted them to be reminded. I wanted them to suffer as my boys suffered, as all those boys suffered, and as their people at home suffered. I wanted them to be between this world and the next, never at peace. Never, ever at rest.” Exhausted, Mrs. Willis leaned into Maisie’s arms and wept.
As Maisie held the grieving woman to her, she lifted her head and motioned for Stratton and the WPC. Passing the weight as gently as one would hand a new baby back to its mother, Maisie allowed the WPC and Stratton to help Mrs. Willis to her feet. As Maisie joined Billy, she noticed moisture in his eyes. She touched his arm.
“S’awright, Miss. I’m awright.”
Mrs. Willis mustered the strength to stand tall while Stratton formally cautioned her and as the three moved toward the door, she stopped in front of Maisie.
“Would you look in on my Will, Miss Dobbs? He won’t even know I’m not there. I think my visiting is just for my sake, really. But I’d like to know that someone is looking out for him every now and again.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll visit, Mrs. Willis.”
“Me, too. I’ll go, too,” added Billy.
Two constables stationed outside the door accompanied Mrs. Willis and the WPC to the idling vehicles. At the far end of the corridor, a cadre of staff waited, all of whom reached out to touch Mrs. Willis as she passed. Two more constables waited for orders to secure the crime scene.
“I owe you an apology, Miss Dobbs,” said Stratton.
“I think the apology must go to Magnus Fisher. And perhaps to John Sedgewick.” Stratton nodded, and for a moment neither knew quite what to say.
“And once again, I must offer my congratulations. I’ll also have to ask you to come down to the Yard to make a formal statement.”
“Of course.”
“And you, too, Mr. Beale.”
“Right you are, Detective Inspector. Oh, and by the way . . .” Billy reached over to the fire irons and took out the bayonet. “Couldn’t think of where else to put it. But like I mentioned to you before, Miss, my old mum always said that it was ’ardest to find something ’idden in plain view.”
CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE
Billy was loath to leave his family, and Maisie despaired of ever getting him to Chelstone. But he finally acquiesced, and on the first Monday in May, Maisie parked the MG at Charing Cross station and accompanied him to the platform.
