been screeching at the top of her lungs at Sadie for her impudence.
Deciding it was time to bring a more serious topic to the table, Elizabeth said quietly, “I’m afraid I have some bad news to tell you.”
Sadie and Polly stared at her with apprehension on their faces, while Martin merely looked resigned. “The Germans are invading us,” he muttered. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”
“No, Martin. They are not invading us. In fact, this has nothing to do with the war. At least, not directly.”
“What is it, then, m’m?” Sadie sat with her spoon halfway to her mouth, the soggy oatmeal dripping from it onto her plate.
“It’s Nellie Smith.” Elizabeth paused, trying to find an easy way to say it, then gave up. “I’m afraid she’s been kidnapped.”
Shocked cries from the girls mingled with Martin’s dry comment, “By the Americans, no doubt.”
Elizabeth ignored him. “Apparently she confronted the three musketeers last night on the coast road. Managed to pull the scarf from one of their faces and they took her away in the Jeep they were driving.”
“They must have stolen the Jeep,” Polly said. “Poor Nellie. What will happen to her?”
“I saw a Jeep last night,” Sadie said, frowning. “It were making a run for it towards the woods. I thought it was the Yanks on maneuvers, but now I come to think about it, I didn’t see them wearing military caps. It were dark, but I could swear they weren’t wearing uniforms.”
Elizabeth jumped up from the table, taking Martin by surprise. He dropped his spoon with a clatter and struggled painfully to his feet, one inch at a time.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth hurried over to the telephone. “I should let George know at once.”
“I’m sure about the Jeep,” Sadie said. “But I couldn’t honestly say who was in it.”
Elizabeth dialed the number and waited. She counted seven rings before George finally answered. “Sadie saw the Jeep last night,” she said, bypassing the usual greeting. “It was heading into the woods.”
“Right, then that’s where we’ll start. Mrs. Crumm and her lot are here already. I’ll get them off right away.” His voice faded as he spoke to someone in the distance. “Beg pardon? Yes, all right.” He spoke into the mouthpiece again. “Sorry, m’m. Mrs. Crumm took exception to me using the phrase ‘her lot.’ She said to tell you her
Elizabeth almost smiled. “Tell Mrs. Crumm I am eternally grateful.”
“Yes, m’m. Oh, and I heard from the inspector. He says he’ll be down here in a day or two to look into the wedding guest murder.”
The news gave Elizabeth a jolt. She’d been so wrapped up in Nellie’s kidnapping, she had neglected her promise to the Winterhalters that she would do what she could to investigate the murder. “Thank you, George.” She paused. “I will join the search party as soon as I can. I have an important errand to run first.”
“That’s all right, your ladyship. I don’t think you should be tramping around in the woods anyway. Not fitting, is it.”
“George, when one of my tenants is in trouble, doing what is fitting is the least of my concerns.”
“Yes, m’m. So I’ve noticed.”
His dry tone told Elizabeth he would rather she stayed out of the search altogether. He might know that wasn’t going to happen. At least he wasn’t aware of her investigation into the murder. Not yet, anyway. With any luck at all, he wouldn’t find out until she had discovered Brian Sutcliffe’s killer.
“All right, everyone. Let’s get in line. One behind the other, please!”
Grumbling, the ladies obeyed Rita’s orders. With much shoving, pushing, and complaining, they finally managed a straggly line in front of the police station where they’d been told to assemble.
“Now,” Rita announced, “I’m going to pair you off. Each pair will go in a different direction. You all have your whistles, don’t you?”
A few of the women nodded: a couple of them held up the whistles hanging around their necks.
“Just to make sure,” Rita insisted, “I want everyone to blow their whistles. Once.”
Unfortunately, her last word was drowned out by a chorus of shrill screams from the women’s whistles. Jumping up and down, Rita waved her arms in an attempt to quiet them. No one paid any attention to her. In fact, they seemed determined to outdo each other, blowing until their faces were red.
In the midst of all the horrendous racket, George came running out of the station, with Sid hot on his heels. “ ’Ere, ’ere,” George yelled, “what’s all this then?”
“Crikey!” Sid shouted. “I thought it was the bloomin’ invasion.”
“Shut up,
Finally, George went down the line, tugging whistles from the mouths of the grinning women. “It’s about time you lot learned to keep order,” George grumbled. “This is serious business. One of your members is missing, in the hands of hardened criminals. I should think you’d all be more worried about her than tormenting your leader.”
The women sobered at once, exchanging sheepish glances. “Sorry, Rita,” Florrie said, always the first to kiss Rita’s boots. “We didn’t mean no harm.”
Red in the face herself, Rita pulled herself up straight as a ramrod. “Now listen to me,” she barked. “Nellie’s life could depend on how fast we find her. I suggest we get to it and start looking for her.” She called off names and gave them the direction in which they had to go.
Marge wasn’t too happy to find she was paired with Florrie. She’d have much rather been with her mate, Clara, who wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Florrie was such a baby, jumping at every little noise and always afraid the Germans were going to come and take her away. Though why on earth the Nazis would want her, Marge couldn’t imagine.
She managed to wave to Clara as they set off, happy to notice her friend didn’t seem any happier than she was with her partner, Joan Plumstone. Joan was all right, but she hardly ever smiled, and if she ever really laughed she’d crack her face. Clara wouldn’t like that. She liked to joke around all the time. Though Marge had to admit, Nellie being missing wasn’t much of a joke.
“Come on,” she said to Florrie, who looked as if she’d wet her drawers any minute, “we’ve got a long walk before we get to the woods. We need to hurry.”
“I can’t hurry too much,” Florrie said in her whiney voice. “My feet hurt.”
Blimey, they’d barely started and her blinking feet hurt already? Marge heaved a sigh. This was not going to be much fun.
Nellie pulled her knees up under her chin and watched the sunlight creeping through the cracks in the barn walls. She’d heard her captors come back hours ago. From what she could hear, their mission, whatever that was, had failed. They would have to try again tonight.
She was hungry and thirsty, and she needed to piddle. The thought of enduring another day and night in this horrible place was enough to drive her barmy. Right now the three of them were sleeping.
When she thought about the lousy night she’d had, trying to sleep on the hard floor, she got really, really mad. Bloody sods. She’d like to ram their teeth down their throat. Her anger goaded her into action. She slid forward until she was close to the edge of the ledge and could look down.
They were right below her, lying on their backs, mouths open, sleeping like babies. Well, she’d settle that. In her temper she kicked a pile of hay over the ledge.
It showered down on the three below. None of them moved. Not even when some of it went in Stan’s mouth. He just blew it out with his next breath.
Frustrated and angrier than ever, Nellie eyed the lamp. That would make a nice noise. She picked it up and hurled it to the ground. It landed with an almighty crash and a splintering of glass.
“What the…?” Stan sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Robbie rolled over and stared sleepily at him. “Watcha doing?”
“I didn’t do nothing. The lamp fell down.” Stan looked up, straight into Nellie’s face. “No, it didn’t. That bitch threw it down. It could’ve killed one of us.”
“Too bad it didn’t,” Nellie said nastily.
“’Ere, watch it. Or I’ll come up there and show you what for.”
“You and whose bleeding army?”
“Just me, that’s who.”
