In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

“Quite a bit,” Ben said, “but I think the army has it all in hand. Since it’s now temporarily a military post, I heard they are requisitioning supplies to rebuild.” It gave him the greatest pleasure to watch Billy’s face.

“But they’ll still need a qualified builder, won’t they?” he said. “Unless they plan to make do with a few boards tacked across to keep the rain out.”

Ben didn’t answer this but said, “You seem to be doing quite well out of the war.”

“Not too badly, old son. You’ve got to take your chances, haven’t you? Make the most of things.”

“It’s a pity there aren’t more houses being bombed in the Kentish countryside,” Ben said.

“I have enough work to keep me going for the duration, don’t you worry. And some nice little bits on the side, too.”

“Bits on the side?”

“I have a petrol ration, see. I have to get around to repair bomb damage, and the nice government gives me extra coupons. So I can pick up and deliver. Tell your dad if he ever wants anything, he only has to come to me.”

“Black market, you mean?” Ben asked.

Billy grinned. “Supply and demand. Doing a good service, old son. I help those who have superfluous goods load them off to someone who needs them.”

“With a good markup for you in the middle.”

The grin widened. “I’m not a right mug, you know.”

So that ruled out Billy Baxter as a possible German contact, Ben thought. He was profiting so nicely from the war, he probably didn’t want it to end. And if the Germans invaded, he’d be the sort who’d keep them supplied with necessities, too.

He was glad when they reached the station and parted cordially.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


At Dolphin Square


Ben waited in the lobby for the lift to arrive, trying to compose in his mind what he wanted to say to Maxwell Knight. Had he anything of substance to report, apart from a bomb falling on Farleigh, Miss Gumble’s telescope, the two artists at the oast house . . . ? The lift came down, and the doors opened. Ben uttered a gasp at the same time as Guy Harcourt said, “My God, Cresswell. What a surprise.”

“What are you doing here?” Ben demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing, old chap,” Guy said. “Let’s just say we’re both on the same side, shall we? I never did buy that ‘nervous breakdown and having to take time off’ line. You’re as fit as I am. So it seems we both have a standing invitation with a certain captain at Dolphin Square. Well, well.”

“Good God. You too?” Ben said.

“Let’s just say I’m happy to oblige as messenger boy when asked. You’ll be back at our digs, will you?”

“I’m not sure,” Ben said. “I, too, run errands.” He grinned and stepped into the open lift.

He took a deep breath and walked down the hallway to the office. Maxwell Knight was dressed, this time, in a smart army uniform. Ben was ushered into the inner sanctum.

“Come in, Cresswell.” Knight looked up from his paperwork. “Take a seat.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realise you were an army officer,” he said. “I should have been addressing you by your correct rank.”

Knight returned his gaze. “I’m not, if you really want to know. But I felt I was doing as much as any member of the armed forces to end this war, so I decided I had as much right as any man to wear a uniform.” Then he grinned, looking suddenly boyish. “I even awarded myself a couple of medals.” He pointed to the strip of ribbon on his chest. “This one for rescuing badgers. This one for making a frightfully good martini.” Then Knight’s face became solemn again. “You have something to report, already?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Farleigh was hit by a bomb last night.”

“Was it now? Much damage?”

“Luckily, not too bad. The attic caught on fire, and some of the top-floor rooms are not habitable at the moment, but no casualties, thank God. The army chaps helped put it out quickly, and, of course, the building is mainly built of stone.”

“That’s it?” Knight asked, his lip curling in what Ben took to be a sarcastic smile.

“I’ve done a recce of the neighbourhood and have a list here of possible persons of interest. Nothing too promising, I’m afraid.” He handed Knight a sheet of paper. Knight studied it.

“Lord Westerham’s oldest daughter, Olivia, is married to Viscount Carrington, who is chummy with the Duke of Windsor and with him in the Bahamas. She thinks the duke has been unfairly treated. But I get no hint from her that she might actively want to aid the Germans. In fact, between you and me, she has always struck me as the least bright of the girls. And easily panicked. I can’t see her having the nerves to be a spy.”

Knight grinned again. “Women make the best actors, you know,” he said. “But you’ve known her all your life, so I’ll take your word for it.” He paused. “Who else?”

“I’ve put Lady Phoebe’s governess on the list. She’s an educated woman, good family, supposedly writing her thesis. But she did have a telescope in her window in the turret room. And she was very possessive about her papers. I wondered if perhaps she might be studying aircraft and flight paths from Biggin Hill Aerodrome and then somehow signalling them to Germany.”

Knight nodded. “Interesting. Yes, she’s just the sort of person they might use. Disgruntled, feels that life has cheated her. Maybe wants to get back at the British establishment.”

“She seems nice and genuine enough,” Ben said. “She claims to use her telescope for bird-watching.”

“Does she?” Maxwell Knight smiled. “Maybe you should follow up on her. Get a look at her papers. Search her room to see if there is a hidden radio.”

“I’ve been through her papers that were damaged in the bombing, and they all seemed to relate to a historical thesis she is writing, except for one interesting fact. They are about the Wars of the Roses. And two of the biggest battles of that war were in 1461. So I wondered if that might be a coincidence.”

“Interesting.” Knight nodded. “I’m not a great believer in coincidence myself. I’d follow up on her, search her room more thoroughly if I were you.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben thought of this assignment with distaste.

“And anyone else raised a red flag?”

Ben took a deep breath. “There are some people in the area who seem to be doing remarkably well in spite of war, but then I don’t think they’d want to bring it to a speedy close. Oh, and I met a couple last night who seem to have pro-German tendencies and are also supporters of the Duke of Windsor, Lord and Lady Musgrove. They’re on the list. He has just inherited a property and come from Canada. They seem to have plenty of money and enough petrol coupons to drive around. Nobody in the neighbourhood knew anything of them until recently, which made me wonder if they are who they claim to be. But they live at least five or six miles away, so why not parachute into their field?”

“Why not indeed,” Knight echoed.