Agatha nodded. ‘You may be right. Let’s stick with fun people.’
‘No, no,’ said Freddie with a wave of his hand, ‘invite the duke. Old bores are fine. In fact, invite the whole bloody gentry!’
‘We need to write this down or we shall forget,’ said Pearl, going to the dresser drawer and taking out a writing pad. ‘You must ask Bunny Warren.’
‘Who is Bunny Warren?’ said Freddie.
‘Oh darling,’ Pearl scolded. ‘He’s the man who gave me away at the wedding.’
Freddie turned his attention back to his toast. How could he have forgotten that stupid old buffoon? His raucous laughter had near driven him mad at the reception. What on earth his mother-in-law saw in the man was anybody’s guess – unless it was his money. He made a mental note to put Bunny Warren at the top of his list; after all, he’d look quite fetching hanging from a lamppost.
Just the day before, Freddie had been up to London and the German Embassy with his photographs and a few picture postcards of the local area. Prussia House was a magnificent building which only last year had hosted a party with a thousand guests to celebrate its reopening after a £100,000 renovation. The guest list included royalty: Prince George, the Duke of Kent and his wife Princess Marina. Freddie’s dinner party might not reach such lofty heights, but the type of people Agatha wanted to invite sounded just perfect.
As his wife and mother-in-law put together an impressive list of the great and the good, he smiled to himself. Little did the British know that the German Embassy had been used as a base for the Gestapo ever since its formation.
When he’d handed his little treasure trove into the office, he had been told to wait for further instructions.
‘You have done a good job,’ Christoph, his superior said, as he sifted through the photographs. ‘Good shot of that plane coming in to land at Shoreham.’
‘I thought so too,’ said Freddie, careful not to mention being chased by an angry swan in full view of Pearl’s sister Milly. ‘It gives you a really clear idea of the flight path.’
‘And nobody suspects you?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Freddie said emphatically. ‘I’ve done everything possible to make them believe I have no time for the Führer. To them I am the perfect English gentleman.’
‘Sehr gut.’ Christoph put the photographs and cards to one side. ‘We have had a communiqué from your uncle. He wants you to contribute to the Sonderfahndungsliste.’
Freddie gave him a confused stare.
‘We are collecting the names of everyone who is antagonistic towards the Fatherland and those who are sympathisers. When we invade these shores, all traitors will be immediately arrested and deported to Germany.’
‘What about gypsies?’
‘It goes without saying,’ said Christoph, ‘that they will be rounded up with the Jews and the imbeciles. No, the people we are looking for are those who speak out against us, people of influence; the sort of people the British call the upper crust.’
‘I shall need money,’ Freddie had said. Hence the roll of notes he’d given Agatha.
Now he looked over Pearl’s shoulder. His wife and mother-in-law were rejigging the names on their list. There were plenty of upper-crust-sounding names in the mix. Good, good. He couldn’t wait to rid the world of these snobbish bores.
‘What about the members of the local Masonic Lodge?’ he suggested. ‘Or perhaps one of the local clergy or a Boy Scout leader?’
Agatha looked up. ‘Okay, why not?’
Freddie gave her a nod of approval. And you, my dear mother-in-law, will be the very first on my list, he thought savagely.
Seebold, Nan, Cyril and Milly had spent the day helping Lena to move into the cottage. Milly had been busy cleaning while Nan had changed the sheets and washed the curtains. The men had been working outside, building a chicken run and setting up the pigeon loft while Lena had taken her Shetland ponies to the stables on the Horsham Road. By the time evening came, the cottage was looking cosy once more.
Nan had prepared a hotpot which only needed to be heated through to be ready to eat. Milly laid the table.
‘Does she know what she’s going to do?’ Nan called from the kitchen.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Milly. ‘One thing is for certain: she doesn’t want to go back to Rainbow George.’
Nan put her head round the door. ‘Tell her I can get her daily work in service anytime she wants,’ she confided. ‘There are a lot of well-to-do people in Findon Valley who are crying out for domestics. They pay good wages too.’
‘I’ll mention it,’ Milly promised as Nan went back into the kitchen.
For Milly, being back in the cottage brought mixed feelings. She’d enjoyed some happy times here but also some very sad ones. A couple of times, as she’d turned quickly, she thought she could still see her poor father sitting in the armchair and doing his best to be jolly when it was obvious that he was in a lot of pain. It also reminded her of that night when Angel had been here and she and Pearl had been outside in the dark. Milly shuddered. She had never got around to telling Lena what they had done, and there were times when, even after all these years, it still weighed heavily on her mind. As she put the condiments onto the table, Milly heard the sound of voices and the door burst open. Lena was the first to come in, her face wreathed in smiles, but she was quickly followed by someone else. ‘Look who I found on the doorstep,’ Lena cried.
It was Pearl. Milly almost fainted with the shock, especially when she saw what her sister was holding in her hand. It was the doll. Milly’s heart went into her mouth. Pearl was going to tell Lena what they had done all those years ago, wasn’t she? Oh, why-oh-why had she put it off for so long? By the time Pearl was finished, Lena would hate her. A lump was forming in Milly’s throat and her eyes were already pricking with unshed tears.
‘Come in, come in,’ Lena told Pearl. ‘Sit down. Make yourself at home.’
Pearl nodded regally and placed herself in the armchair. Nan popped her head around the kitchen door. ‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Pearl,’ she said in a measured tone. ‘How nice to see you. Can I get you some tea?’
‘That would be very kind of you, Mrs Martin,’ Pearl cooed. She smiled up at Milly but Milly didn’t return the smile. She felt sick. Although it was all done, she turned her attention back to laying the table. Her hands were trembling. Was Pearl going to do this in front of everybody or would she ask to speak to Lena in private? Stupid question – Pearl would want to have her revenge in public. Milly sucked in her lips and struggled to control her sense of panic.
Cyril came in, stamping his feet on the mat and taking his coat off. ‘There’s going to be snow before long,’ he said then, spotting Pearl, he touched his forelock. ‘How do?’
Nan brought in the tea tray.
Lena chatted away, telling Pearl that she was going to stay here permanently now but she wouldn’t bother them up at the house. Politely she asked after Milly’s mother. Pearl, all smiles, spoke about the upcoming parties at Muntham Court, clearly waiting for her moment. Milly was in agony. Cyril might consider what she’d done as a childish and foolish superstition, but what would Nan and Seebold think when they heard that she had cursed Lena’s mother to death? And more importantly, how would Lena react? She would be horrified to know that her own sister had been so cruel.
‘May I ask,’ Lena enquired eventually, ‘what are you doing with that old doll?’
Pearl looked down at her hand as if she’d quite forgotten the doll was there. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘is it yours?’
‘It’s Milly’s really,’ said Lena. ‘When she was a little girl, she left it in the wood pile.’ And turning to her sister she added, ‘Don’t you remember?’
