“What?”
“He wanted me to dig out some files on the First World War. Wanted to know whether there was any looting when the Germans bombed us.”
“I didn’t know that they did bomb us.”
“Yes, well, my knowledge about it was not what it should be. They had Zeppelins then and they did a bit of damage in the East End. Nothing like what we’re facing now, I’m sure, but there was damage and people died.”
“Did they? And was there any looting?”
“A little.”
“Well. Who’d think it. So I suppose he’s worrying about what’s going to happen now.”
“Yes. But he seems like a new man to me. I know he’s got an awful lot on his plate, but he seems really happy for the first time since I’ve known him.”
“Well, it’s that girl, isn’t it?”
“He has a girl? I didn’t know.”
“Yes, that Polish girl, Sonia. You know? The one he met during that American embassy case.”
Claire frowned at Cole. “Tommy Cole. A juicy bit of gossip like that and you don’t let on. I suppose everyone knows apart from me?”
“Well, I don’t think your uncle knows.”
They had reached the top of the queue and Cole paid for their tickets. They entered the foyer. “Hmm. Well, good for Mr Merlin anyway. He deserves a bit of happiness.” Claire laughed and pecked Cole’s cheek as they went through the curtains into the cinema. “As do we, Tommy.”
Chapter 6
Saturday, September 7
“Hello, Sam, keeping you busy at the old cop-shop, are they?” Sam Bridges muttered these words to himself as he and his pregnant wife waited patiently at the front door in the heat of the late afternoon. As sure as the sun would rise in the morning, he knew that these would be his father-in-law’s words of greeting. Frederick Brown was a man of regular customs and habits. He had spent his entire working life in the army, ending up as a Regimental Sergeant Major. “Order, conformity, regularity – that’s what makes the British Empire great, mark my words, Sam. Regularity in all things – from bowel movements to meal times to shoe polishing, that’s what supported our great imperial adventure. Forget all the fancy stuff – regularity, Sam, regularity!”
The door to the small cottage creaked open. “Hello, Sam, keeping you busy at the old cop-shop, are they? And there you are, my darling Iris. Looks like my grandson is going to be a big, strapping boy. Need a lorry to get her down here, Sam?”
Iris wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. “Oh, shut up, Dad, and let us in. It’s boiling out here.”
“Come on in then. I’ll put the kettle on.” Fred Brown was a solid brick of a man, with a ruddy complexion and a ramrod-straight back and, although well in his sixties, Sam guessed that he would be quite as capable of carrying out his full regimental duties now as when he had retired ten years before. Fred Brown liked his son-in-law very much.
“Peas in a pod, we are, Sam. My old Maudie, she always said that girls like to marry men like their fathers, just as boys like to marry girls like their mothers. Well, I can’t speak for boys, only having had Iris, but I reckon she was right about girls. Eh, Sam?”
And indeed, Sam Bridges could have passed for a younger Fred Brown. Excepting the hair, of course. Sam had a shock of fair hair and Fred’s, prior to its reduction to a closely cropped, greyish stubble, had been jet-black. Fred Brown scraped his fingers over the stubble as he waited for the kettle to boil.
“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have got some biscuits in. I could do you both a cheese sandwich. How about that? Or if you hang about for a bit, I could get us some fish and chips from the shop on the corner for tea? What do you say?”
“No thanks, Dad. We just thought we’d pop down and see if you were alright. It’s such a lovely day and we thought we’d hop on the bus and have a cup of tea with you.”