‘I’m not in the habit of travelling third class,’ said Giles as the train pulled out of Temple Meads.
‘Well, you’d better get used to it while I’m paying,’ said Harry.
‘So tell me, Harry, what’s your friend Captain Tarrant up to? I know the government has appointed him Director of the Citizens Displacement Unit, which sounds pretty impressive, but I’m not sure what he actually does.’
‘What it says,’ said Harry. ‘He’s responsible for finding accommodation for refugees, in particular those families who are escaping the tyranny of Nazi Germany. He says he’s carrying on his father’s work.’
‘Class act, your friend Captain Tarrant.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Harry.
‘Tickets, please.’
The two boys spent most of the journey trying to work out where Emma and Mrs Barrington could possibly be, but by the time the train pulled into Paddington Station, they still hadn’t come to any firm conclusions.
They took the tube to Leicester Square, emerged into the sunlight and went in search of Soho Square. As they made their way through the West End, Giles became so distracted by the bright neon lights and shop windows full of goods he’d never seen before that Harry occasionally had to remind him why they’d actually come to London.
When they reached Soho Square, neither of them could have missed the steady flow of bedraggled men, women and children, heads bowed, shuffling in and out of a vast building on the far side of the square.
The two young men dressed in blazers, grey flannels and ties looked strangely incongruous as they entered the building and followed the arrows directing them to the third floor. Several of the refugees stood to one side to allow them to pass, assuming they must be there on official business.
Giles and Harry joined the long queue outside the director’s office, and might have been there for the rest of the day if a secretary had not come out and spotted them. She walked straight up to Harry and asked if he had come to see Captain Tarrant.
‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘He’s an old friend.’
‘I know,’ said the woman. ‘I recognized you immediately.’
‘How?’ asked Harry.
‘He has a photograph of you on his desk,’ she said. ‘Follow me. Captain Tarrant will be delighted to see you.’
Old Jack’s face lit up when the two boys – he should stop thinking of them as boys, they were now young men – walked into his office. ‘It’s good to see you both,’ he said, jumping up from behind his desk to greet them. ‘So who are you running away from this time?’ he added with a smile.
‘My father,’ said Giles quietly.
Old Jack crossed the room, closed the door and sat the two young men down on an uncomfortable sofa. He drew up a chair and listened carefully as they told him everything that had happened since they’d seen him at the play the previous evening.
‘I saw your father leave the theatre, of course,’ said Old Jack, ‘but it would never have crossed my mind he could treat your mother and sister quite so appallingly.’
‘Do you have any idea where they might be, sir?’ asked Giles.
‘No. But if I had to guess, I’d say they were staying with your grandfather.’
‘No, sir, I spent the morning with Grandpa, and even he doesn’t know where they are.’
‘I didn’t say which grandfather,’ said Jack.
‘Lord Harvey?’ said Harry.
‘That would be my bet,’ said Jack. ‘They’d feel safe with him, and confident that Barrington would think twice before going after them.’
‘But Grandpa has at least three homes that I’m aware of,’ said Giles. ‘So I wouldn’t know where to begin looking.’
‘How stupid of me,’ said Harry. ‘I know exactly where he is.’
‘You do?’ said Giles. ‘Where?’
‘At his country estate in Scotland.’
‘You sound very certain,’ said Jack.
‘Only because last week he dropped Emma a line to explain why he wouldn’t be able to attend the school play. It seems he always spends December and January in Scotland. But I’m damned if I can remember the address.’
‘Mulgelrie Castle, near Mulgelrie, Highlands,’ said Giles.
‘Most impressive,’ said Jack.
‘Not really, sir. It’s just years of Mama making me write thank-you letters to all my relations on Boxing Day. But as I’ve never been to Scotland, I haven’t got a clue where it is.’
Old Jack got up and removed a large atlas from the bookshelf behind his desk. He looked up Mulgelrie in the index, flicked over several pages and then laid it on the desk in front of him. Running a finger from London to Scotland, he said, ‘You’ll have to take the overnight sleeper to Edinburgh, and then change to a local train for Mulgelrie.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got enough money left for that,’ said Harry, checking his wallet.
‘Then I’ll have to issue you both with rail warrants, won’t I?’ said Jack. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a large buff-coloured pad and tore off two forms. He filled them in, signed and stamped them. ‘After all,’ he added, ‘you are clearly stateless refugees in search of a home.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Giles.
‘One last word of advice,’ said Old Jack as he rose from behind his desk. ‘Hugo Barrington is not a man who likes to be crossed, and while I’m fairly confident he won’t do anything to annoy Lord Harvey, that doesn’t necessarily apply to you, Harry. So be on your guard until you’re safely inside Mulgelrie Castle. Should you at any time come across a man with a limp,’ he added, ‘be wary of him. He works for Giles’s father. He’s clever and resourceful, but more important, he has no allegiance to anyone except his paymaster.’