In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

Reverend Cresswell looked around. “Now I’m trying to remember what I came in here for. My mind is like a sieve these days. Oh, I know. Book on birds. There’s an owl’s nest in that big elm, and I rather think it’s a screech owl. I caught a glimpse of it at twilight, but I wanted to be sure.”

A brilliant idea came to Ben. Miss Gumble’s telescope. He could ask to borrow it for his father. Perfect. He packed an overnight suitcase ready for his trip, then cycled over to Farleigh. As he rode up the drive, he had to pull over to the side while a convoy of army lorries drove past, and the enforced wait brought back his doubts. If he asked Miss Gumble to borrow her telescope, she’d probably go and get it for him. She wouldn’t want him in her room, especially if she had something to hide. But if he went up to her room without her permission and was seen, she’d hear about it and there could be a fuss.

“Damn it,” he muttered. He wasn’t cut out to be a spy. He thought of those chaps who were being sent to rescue Margot Sutton from the hands of the Gestapo and how stupid he must have sounded volunteering for such a job. Margot must have nerves of steel to be receiving and delivering radio messages in occupied Paris. He remembered he’d always been a little in awe of her—she was several years older than Pamma and sophisticated and glamorous, even as a teenager. But surely it had always been Pamma who was the brave one, the one who climbed trees and accepted dares. He felt a great wave of relief that it wasn’t Pamma who was in Paris now, waiting to be rescued. Because the chance of a successful rescue from German headquarters in an occupied country must be pretty slim. It was likely that they’d all end up dead. He wondered if Lord and Lady Westerham could have any idea that their child was in such danger and how difficult it was that everybody had to keep secrets.

The last lorry in the convoy passed. Ben continued his ride up to the house. He saw that panels of plywood were being unloaded and carried up the steps. Presumably repairs for the roof. The place was busy with soldiers, which enabled him to slip past unnoticed and reach the stable yard. He went up the steps and tapped on her door, just in case she wasn’t at lessons with Phoebe. Then he tried the handle and pushed. The room seemed to be locked.

“Damn,” he muttered and put his shoulder to the door. It swung open, and he was in Miss Gumble’s room. His heart was beating fast as he looked around and saw the telescope lying on top of one of the piles. A radio. That’s what he was looking for. And any incriminating papers. The room was tiny, and he went through the piles of books and her few possessions quite quickly. But no sign of a radio.

He certainly hadn’t seen a radio among her things in the stable room. He wondered if he dared go up to her turret to see if there might be a radio hidden there somewhere. An excuse, that’s what he needed. He remembered that he’d been wearing his dinner jacket. Yes, that would work. He went back around to the front steps, into the house and up the two flights to the top floor. Nobody stopped him until he came to the spiral stair leading to Miss Gumble’s turret. Several soldiers were trying to manoeuvre a sheet of plywood up the narrow stair. One of them turned to see Ben.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” he asked. “As you can see, we’re rather occupied up here now, and I’d appreciate it if you went downstairs again.”

“It’s just that I was the one who rescued the lady from that turret room,” he said. “And I was wearing my dinner jacket, and I lost one of my gold cuff links. So I wondered if I might take a quick look. It has rather a sentimental value.”

The officer nodded. “Of course, sir. Hold up, men. Let the gentleman past.”

Ben hurried up the stair. The room was a sorry mess with plaster lying across the floor and blackened stains on the walls. It still smelled of smoke. Ben picked his way around, examining under the bed, the window seat, looking for any loose floorboards, but found nothing. He was forced to retreat. If she had a radio, either it was well hidden or she’d spirited it away.

There was nothing to do but to complete his assignment to the battle sites in the north of England and see if any clue became obvious when he was there. He retrieved his bike and rode home without encountering anyone he knew. Then he walked to the station and caught the train up to London.



That afternoon, right after tea, Lady Phoebe slipped out of the house and made her way down to the gamekeeper’s lodge. Mrs. Robbins looked like a different person, much older, with hollow eyes and an almost dazed expression.

“He’s in there, your ladyship,” she said in a flat voice. “Go on through if you like.”

Phoebe had forgotten for the moment that the Robbinses’ son had been reported missing. She wondered if she should say something but couldn’t think of the right thing, so she merely smiled and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Robbins.”

She went into the kitchen and found Alfie eating a piece of bread and jam. He looked up and grinned when he saw her.

“You and I have to talk,” she said. “Leave that and come where we can’t be overheard.”

Alfie followed her outside, and they walked some distance from the cottage before she said, “We have to get a move on with our sleuthing. There have been developments.”

“There have?”

She nodded. “You must have heard our house was bombed.”

“Yes. I know. Bloomin’ awful.”

“Well, I’ve started thinking—about our parachutist, you know. Why bomb Farleigh?”

“Well, there’s a ruddy lot of soldiers staying there, you know.” He grinned.

“All right. That would be one reason. But what if there was another?”

“Like what?”

“Someone or something at Farleigh should be destroyed. Do you know Mr. Cresswell, the vicar’s son?” Alfie nodded. “He was there the night of the fire. He rescued me and my governess. Jolly brave, actually. But he was interested that Miss Gumble had a telescope. And today I was up in the schoolroom, and I happened to look out of the window and I saw him going around to the stable yard, which is where Miss Gumble is staying at the moment. So it made me wonder whether he suspects anything funny is going on. Or”—and she paused—“whether he might have something to do with that parachuting man himself.”

“What do you mean?” Alfie asked.

“I mean I know he was injured in that plane crash before the war, but why isn’t he in the army or something? He’s the sort of person who might want the Germans to take over. He’s the quiet and sneaky type, just the sort they might use. So I think you and I should get cracking. I know he went to the station, but if he comes back, we need to keep an eye on him. And I’ll snoop around the house to see if there is anything suspicious there. You snoop around the village to see if you can come up with anything suspicious. All right?”

“All right,” he said, “although I have been listening to people talking. Some of them think that German bloke staying with the doctor might be a spy.”