In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

“So how will someone know to come and meet her at the station?” Ben asked.

“I’ll telephone from Victoria. I’ll tell them there was a bomb, and we had to leave in a hurry. Nothing more needs to be said.”

“You don’t need to talk about me in the third person,” Dido said. “I’m a person. I have feelings too, you know.”

“You don’t deserve feelings,” Pamela said. “You have no idea what feelings are. You always wanted what was mine, all the while we were growing up. And you took it, too.”

They reached the station and ran toward the platforms.

“Eleven fifty-five. We should have time to get it,” Ben said.

“There won’t be a local at this time of night,” Pamela said, gasping a little as they ran. “I’ll tell Pah to come and pick you up in Sevenoaks.”

“All right.” Dido suddenly sounded very young and insecure.

“Do you want me to take her home?” Ben asked. “I’m on fairly flexible hours at the moment, so it would be all right.”

Pamela gave him a grateful look. “Would you really? That would be so kind. I don’t like the thought of her alone on a train in the blackout.”

“You could both come back to my place if it would be easier.”

“It really wouldn’t,” Pamela said. “I’m afraid I need to be alone, and I can’t be civilised much longer. And I want Dido far away.”

“Stop talking about me as if I was a piece of meat,” Dido said. “Look, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. We were drinking, and we were excited by the bombs, and . . . and it just happened. And do you know what? It was jolly nice, and you’re stupid to keep pushing him away.”

“That’s enough, Dido,” Pamela snapped. She almost pushed her sister into the train.

“Tell Mummy I’ll see her on Friday as arranged,” she said.

“What’s happening on Friday?”

“Mummy’s having a little garden party this weekend, and she is in a panic because there’s no proper food and not enough servants, so I said I’d come down and help.” Pamela looked at Ben appealingly. “If you’re not working, you wouldn’t like to come down, too, would you? I was planning on asking Jeremy to come and help serve drinks and things, but now . . .”

“Of course, I’ll come,” Ben said.

“Trixie said she’d come as well. She said she’d dress as a maid and serve things.” Pamela smiled, the lines of worry vanishing from her face for a moment. “We both managed to wangle Friday afternoon and Saturday off. So we’ll hope to catch a train about four if you want to join us.”

“I’ll be there.” He smiled at her as he climbed on board after Dido.

A whistle sounded. Pamela reached up to him and covered his hand with hers. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ben. I can always count on you.”

The train pulled out of the station. Ben looked back and saw her small, slim figure standing there, watching them.



The explanation of a bomb being dropped on the next-door building was readily accepted. Ben stopped at his father’s house, where he spent the night, then he caught an early train back to London.

Guy opened his door as Ben came up the stairs. “So where did you get to?” he asked with a suggestive smile. “Was it two for the price of one? I can see why you chose them over Miss Mavis. A lovely girl but a bit too gushing for my taste. I deposited her at the station at six, as requested.”

“Thank you so much. She must be furious with me.”

“Not too furious, I think. I gave her a bit of a kiss and a cuddle in the taxi, so I think she had a good time and certainly plenty of tales to tell her workmates. How the toffs live and all that.” He stared at Ben. “You look washed up. You’d better come in, and I’ll make you coffee.” Ben needed no second invitation.

“Thank God that coffee isn’t rationed,” Guy said. “My one vice these days.”

“If you can find it,” Ben added. He sank onto Guy’s bed. “What a night,” he said.

“So what was going on, really?” Guy asked as he filled a kettle.

“Pamela Sutton found her little sister in bed with Jeremy Prescott,” Ben said. “The kid is only eighteen or nineteen.”

“Eighteen isn’t what it was before the war,” Guy replied. “People grow up quickly these days. They have to. And many people’s philosophy is let’s grab it while we can because we might not be here tomorrow. And it’s true, isn’t it? If that bomb had fallen a few yards to the right, we’d all be toast by now.”

Ben shivered. “You’re right.”

“So Diana was sent home in disgrace?”

“I took her home, actually. Pamela had to get back to work, and she was too upset.”

“So she was dating Prescott, was she?”

“Oh yes. Ever since they were children.”

“That’s how the RAF behave: I live with danger, so I take what I want.”

“I rather think he’s always behaved that way,” Ben said.

The kettle boiled, and Guy poured coffee. Then he said slowly, “There’s something you should probably know. Lady Margot Sutton . . .”

“Yes, I heard. She was taken by the Gestapo in Paris. A rescue was being planned.”

“And was carried out successfully,” Guy said.

Ben’s eyebrows went up. “Really? She’s home? That’s wonderful.”

“Her family doesn’t know she’s home yet. I’m not sure when they’ll be told. There is some debriefing to be carried out. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I gather that Captain King has mentioned the secret society called the Ring to you.”

“He has.”

“So you know who they are and what they plan?”

Ben nodded. “Aristocrats who want to aid Germany.”

“It seems that Margot Sutton showed up at a meeting the other evening.”

“A meeting of the Ring?”

“That’s right.”

“Did Captain King, as you refer to him, know she was going to be there?”

“You know him, keeps his cards really close to his chest, but I think this took him by surprise.”

“So Margot Sutton will be watched?”

“Oh yes, definitely. And when she is allowed home, I rather think that the task will fall to you.”

“Crikey,” Ben said.



As soon as Ben went to his own room, he wrote a note to Mavis, explaining that one of the sisters had drunk too much and become ill, necessitating that she be rushed to Victoria Station to catch the last train. He hoped she would forgive him and that Guy looked after her well. And he hoped their next date would be less dramatic. Then he took it to the postbox on the corner. With any luck it would arrive by the last post that evening or, at the latest, by tomorrow morning. He didn’t want her to think that he had ditched her in favour of a more sophisticated girl.