“Oh, all right,” I said, plodding alongside her like a disgruntled five-year-old.
At least she was taking me into her house, away from the road where I might be seen by the Brigadier. I let her take my elbow again as I stumbled over the stone path to her front door. She opened it wide and walked me into her sunny front room, where I slumped down on the nearest sofa, desperate to ease the pain in my hip.
Mrs. Tilling disappeared for a minute, arriving back with tea and sandwiches, further alerting my suspicions about her motives. “Why did you bring me here, Mrs. Tilling?” I blurted out.
She didn’t look dismayed, just sat neatly on the edge of an armchair and began to pour the tea. “It was a good thing I came into the shop and rescued you when I did,” she said, completely ignoring my question. “Ralph Gibbs is a brute these days.”
“Yes,” I muttered. “I suppose it was lucky you came when you did.”
“Fortune had nothing to do with it,” she proclaimed, looking up from the teacups. “I saw you on the bus and guessed where you were headed.”
I sat up, alarmed. “Ralph Gibbs?” I uttered. How the devil did she know that Ralph bleeding Gibbs had my money?
As if reading my thoughts, she said, “Kitty told me.” It was as simple as that. She had the whole bleeding village informing on me. “Don’t worry,” she added, picking up her little teacup. “I’m not going to hand you in.”
“If you mean you’re going to stop accusing me of some kind of baby swap, then I can only say it’s about time,” I snapped.
She made a long, audible sigh. “It’s all right, Miss Paltry. I know you did it. I’ve just decided not to do anything about it. Now, do you want me to help you or not?”
We sat in silence for a minute or two. I was busy trying to work out how she could help me, and whether she was bluffing about not handing me in. She, meanwhile, was eating a cucumber sandwich in the most irritatingly calm way. I felt like punching her delicately chewing mouth.
“It’s not that it’s right, what you did,” she added, after swallowing her dainty mouthful. “But it was done, and exposing it would end in far more harm than good, especially for the poor babies. I dislike the dishonesty that this entails, the deceit that your little scheme has led me to, but I can’t see any other way. I must put the stability of the community above my own integrity.”
I stopped myself from raising my eyes to Heaven, but, Lordy! Her moralizing makes me want to give her a hearty slap.
“I do wonder sometimes if you ever felt any remorse about the action, though?” she asked, her eyes creased up in thought. “Do you think it’s wrong to put the babies with the wrong parents?”
I looked at her blankly. One baby is much the same as the next, as far as I’m concerned. But I did feel rotten that it had all come to nothing. And I was certainly wrong for having touched it in the first place. So I put on a nice smile and said, “Of course it’s wrong. Says so in the Bible, doesn’t it?”
She looked oddly puzzled, then continued, “Well, the babies are both doing well at the Winthrops’, and that’s the main thing. Venetia is taking her Godmother duties to heart and helping to look after Rose until Victor returns, and I must say the whole situation of her being surrounded by her real family makes me more comfortable.”
“Well, I’m very glad for them, and pleased you’re drawing your accusations to an end,” I said brusquely. “Not that anything happened, mind.”
“Come, come, Miss Paltry. All three of us know that you did it—you and I”—she paused, narrowing her eyes—“and the Brigadier. He told me about your corrupt little scheme. I know everything—the meeting, the money, the swap, the bomb, and your clumsy efforts to retrieve and then lose the money.” She gave her little Miss Marple smile. “You have nothing left to hide, you know.”
I have to admit that at this point the fight had gone out of me. It was as much as I could do to keep breathing, a fear gripping me like a snake tightening round my throat.
“Calm down, Miss Paltry.” She came and sat next to me, put her hand on my arm. “I’m here to help you.”
I drew a deep breath, wondering what was coming next. “What kind of help?”
“Well, for a start, I’ve found you somewhere to live. I’m the Billeting Officer, so it’s my job.” She smiled, and I got the oddest feeling that this boring WVS stalwart was actually trying to help me. She got out some forms. “This is the billet information. You’re staying with the Vicar and Mrs. Quail for now. I’ve got some things for you, too, clothes and household things. They’re secondhand, but they’ll be fine for the time being.”
I sat sullenly looking into my cup, unable to grapple with the situation. What was going on? Why wasn’t she turning me in?
“Look, Miss Paltry, perhaps we could go about this a little differently.”
“What do you mean?”