up to him.

From behind Bess, Ena beckoned the newspaper photographer. ‘Any chance of you taking a picture of those two men?’

The photographer winked. ‘It would be my pleasure.’ A second later he was standing next to them at the bar.

Distracted by the exploding flash bulb, the two men turned from each other and faced the photographer. Sutherland’s nostrils flared with anger. The older man put his hands up in an attempt to hide his face. He was too late.

‘Sir Gerald? Miss Katherine?’ The photographer nodded his thanks.

‘Give me that camera,’ Sutherland slurred. The photographer stepped back. ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand it over.’ Sutherland took a swing at the photographer, but the photographer reacted quickly and stepped back again. Sutherland overreached, lost his balance, and fell to his knees.

Bess let go of Margot’s hand and pushed herself off the doorframe. ‘And if you know what’s good for you,’ she said, looking down at Sutherland as he scrambled to his feet, ‘you’ll leave my hotel.’

Sutherland turned at the sound of Bess’s voice, an evil grin on his face. ‘Your hotel, is it? Well, well, well, haven’t you done well for yourself,’ he smirked, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket and doing his drunken best to regain his composure. ‘Do your fancy friends know what you got up to in London, Bess?’ Sutherland said loudly, surveying the crowd. ‘No? Perhaps I should tell them.’

Bess felt sick. She thought she would die of embarrassment and turned her back on Sutherland, so he couldn’t see the distress he was causing her. Fearing the consequences if Sutherland opened his drunken mouth, she turned to the barman. ‘Close the bar, Simon.’

Bess’s cheeks burned scarlet with shame and anger. ‘Ena, would you make sure the back door is locked. Then check that the windows on the ground floor are closed, and secure the kitchen? Tell Chef, if there are any kitchen staff still on the premises they should leave by the hotel’s main entrance.’

Bess turned to Claire. ‘I’d like you to go upstairs and make sure the windows at the end of each landing - and in the bathrooms - are closed, especially those on the first floor. But first, telephone the police station at Lowarth. Tell Sergeant McGann there’s a Nazi in the hotel, and he’s threatening people.’

‘A what?’

‘Just do it!’ Ena fled across the hall to the kitchen, Claire to the reception desk and the telephone.

David Sutherland looked doe-faced at the girl and offered her his hand. ‘Come on, honey, let’s get out of this place.’

The older man, who the photographer had called Sir Gerald, grabbed Sutherland’s arm and forced it down by his side. ‘Katherine is coming with me.’

He handed Bess a small white business card. ‘What happened tonight was regrettable, for which I can only apologise. My address,’ he said, nodding at the card. ‘I shall be at home tomorrow if the police wish to speak to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to take my daughter home.’

Sutherland made a grab for the girl, but Bess stepped forward and pulled her away from him.

‘This is none of your business, Bess Dudley,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with anger. ‘There’s something about women who poke their noses into other people’s business that makes me so mad.’ He clenched his fist and raised his arm, as if he was going to strike Bess.

‘Don’t you dare!’ Margot shouted, running from the door to her sister’s side.

Sutherland’s mouth fell open. ‘Well, if it isn’t Margot Dudley, the pushy little usherette who jumped into her friend’s dancing shoes the first chance she got.’

‘I had no choice. You almost killed her, you bastard!’

Sutherland shot an embarrassed look at the older man, before turning his attention back to Margot. ‘What are you talking about, you stupid bitch?’

He lunged at Margot, but the older man side-stepped and blocked his way. ‘Get out of here. Now!’ he bellowed. ‘That’s an order!’

‘Come on, David, Dad’s right. You should go home.’ Looking up into Sutherland’s face, the girl took him by the hand and led him across the room. At the door, Sutherland put his arms around the girl and, lifting her face to his, bent down and kissed her long and hard. Bess turned away from Sutherland’s staged display of affection. ‘What’s the matter, Bess, are you jealous?’

The girl whispered something that neither Bess nor Margot heard, then her father shouted, ‘Get out, David, or I shall put you out!’ He leaned forward until his face was only an inch from Sutherland’s and growled, ‘We do not need the police asking questions tonight!’ Sutherland put his hands up in a gesture of surrender and Sir Gerald shoved him through the door of the public bar into the hotel’s main hall.

Bess and Margot followed. They were met by their sisters, Ena and Claire, and husbands Frank and Bill.

‘Good God!’ Bill said, ‘What the hell is he doing here?’

‘Who?’ Frank looked across the hall to the entrance foyer where Sutherland, Sir Gerald and his daughter Katherine, were putting on their coats.

‘The younger of those two blokes about to leave is a fascist thug called David Sutherland,’ Bill said. ‘He almost beat one of Margot’s dancer friends to death when she worked at the Prince Albert Theatre in London.’

‘Sutherland?’ Frank turned to Bess, his face distorted with anger. ‘Is that--?’

‘Leave him, Frank, please?’

‘The police are on their way,’ Claire said, ‘Let them deal with him.’

Ignoring his wife and sister-in-law, Frank stormed across the hall to the foyer and punched David Sutherland on the nose. Sutherland stumbled backwards, but didn’t go down. Frank hit him again. This time Frank’s fist skimmed Sutherland’s cheekbone, removing the skin, stopping only when his knuckles clashed with the bone of Sutherland’s right eye socket. The fascist went sprawling to the ground,

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