“How’d you know they weren’t Yanks?” Marge demanded. “They could’ve just been dressed up in ordinary clothes.”
“Nah.” Nellie looked smug. “I can tell a Yank a mile off.”
“I don’t know how you could tell that. I couldn’t even see their faces. They had them covered with scarves.”
Florrie let out a shriek that startled them all. “Oh, my God! It was the three musketeers!”
A chorus of horrified exclamations greeted this alarming statement.
Rita bellowed above the din. “For heaven’s sake, shut up that bloody noise!”
The chatter died away, with one last echo of a whimper from Florrie.
“What are we going to do?” Nellie demanded. “They stole a flipping Jeep.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Rita said, assuming command once more. “We only surmise that. We can’t go around accusing innocent people without being sure.”
“Well, it weren’t no Yanks in there, that’s for sure,” Nellie insisted.
“Perhaps not, but in any case, they are too far away for us to do anything about it now. I’ll have a word with P.C. Dalrymple tomorrow. But for now, can we please maintain silence while we assume our position on the cliffs.”
Marge sighed. For a moment there it looked as if they might get out of the invasion watch for once. She might have known Rita wouldn’t give up on it. It made her feel important. Rita liked to feel important. If it were up to her, she’d have the whole blinking village turn out for her missions, as she called them. Luckily for them, most of the villagers had more sense than to listen to her.
Marge joined the others as they resumed their march to the high point of the cliffs. She often wondered why she bothered to go along with it. All the plodding around trailing after Rita, watching for Germans and looking for spies. Not once had they ever caught anyone. Not once. Not even when they had a German pilot cornered in the windmill. There was always someone else there to seize the glory.
She could almost feel sorry for Rita, if she didn’t know the woman enjoyed every minute of it. Pity her when the war was over. Rita Crumm would have to find another way to throw her weight around. Wonder what she’d do. Probably get rid of Lady Elizabeth and take over the Manor House if she had her way.
Marge pulled a face, imagining what life would be like in Sitting Marsh with Rita Crumm as lady of the manor. She’d blinking move, she would. Go and live in North Horsham.
“You got a blister or something?”
Marge jumped as Nellie hissed in her ear. “No, why?”
“You had a sour look on your face.” Nellie grinned. “You need to piddle?”
Marge scowled at her. “No, I don’t. I don’t know-” She broke off, her breath catching in her throat. They had just rounded the bend, and Rita stood transfixed in front of them, looking at something straight ahead. The way she stood there, all still and quiet, gave Marge the chills.
“What’s she looking at?” Nellie whispered loudly.
The rest of the group had halted, all apparently struck by Rita’s odd posture. They huddled together, afraid to speak, and Marge was quite certain that the dreaded invasion had begun after all.
Then Rita turned and came back to them at a run. “You were right, Florrie,” she said, sounding breathless. “Three men, all with scarves tied over their faces.”
“Oh, my,” Florrie moaned.
The other women started muttering, until Rita silenced them with a sharp raise of her hand. “This is our chance,” she said, her voice low and hoarse with excitement. “We’re going to capture the three musketeers.”
“How the bloody hell do you think we’re going to do that?” Nellie demanded.
“Shhh!” Rita put a finger over her lips. “We want to take them by surprise.”
“And they’re going to come along quietly? I don’t think so.” Nellie crossed her arms. “The best thing we can do is get George and Sid up here. They’ve got the authority.”
“I’ve got authority, too,” Rita said stiffly. “As General of the Housewives League, I have the authority to apprehend anyone endangering the lives of the villagers.”
Nellie smirked. “Says who?”
“Says everyone. That’s who. It’s understood.”
“So how are they endangering us?”
“They could shove the Jeep over the cliffs and it could hit a mine and blow all our heads off.”
Shocked cries arose among the group. “Ere, I’m orf,” someone said.
“Me, too.” There was a general movement of the crowd to turn tail.
“No one is going anywhere,” Rita muttered fiercely. “They’ve been trying to cath these criminals for months. All that damage they’ve done to the American vehicles and property-we can’t let them go now.”
“Even if we do catch them, how are we going to get them back to the village?” Florrie ventured.
Rita quelled her with a glare. “All right, what we have to do is keep them talking while someone goes down to the village for George and Sid.”
Nellie sniggered. “How do you think you’re going to keep them talking? Chat about the weather?”
“I’m not going to,” Rita said calmly. “You are.”
Nellie’s grin vanished. “Me? Not on your life.”
“You have to do it.” Rita put on her stubborn look. “You’re the youngest, and not bad looking. You’re the only one they’ll take any notice of; and after all, you’ve had plenty of experience chatting up the boys.”
Nellie looked offended. “Here, what does that mean?”
“I only meant that you’re the most experienced one to do this. Think what it will mean, to be the one who catches the three musketeers. Some of the most wanted criminals in the country.”
Nellie stared at her, and Marge could tell that she was weighing the price of glory against the need for self-preservation. Finally, she said, “All right, I’ll do it. But you’d better all be close behind me. And someone had better get down to the village really fast because I don’t know how long I can keep them talking.”
Rita beamed. “Good for you, Nellie. You won’t regret this, I promise you.”
It wasn’t often Nellie got praise from Rita. If ever. She turned red and muttered, “I bloody hope not.”
Rita turned to Florrie. “You go down to the village, Florrie, and fetch George and Sid. If they’re not together, then send them up here one at a time. And make it fast. We don’t want to lose them now we’ve got them in our grasp.”
Florrie had been turning even more pale throughout this speech. Finally she spluttered, “Oh, I couldn’t. Really I couldn’t.”
“Of course you can,” Rita said, losing all vestige of patience. “All you’ve got to do is run down the hill and tell George the three musketeers are up here and to come right away. It’s downhill all the way. How hard is that?”
“Why can’t Marge go?” Florrie whined.
Rita uttered a grunt of contempt. “Look at her. She’s twice your size. It would take her forever to get down there. You can do it in half the time.”
Marge was about to protest, then thought better of it. After all, she didn’t want to be the one to go down to the village. She wanted to stay and watch the excitement.
At last, Florrie was persuaded, and she set off at a panicky run in the direction of the village.
“Now,” Rita said, giving Nellie a pat on the shoulder. “Off you go. Tell them you’re on your way home and ask them for a lift or something. Or pretend you’ve lost your dog and want them to help you look for it.”
“I haven’t got a dog,” Nellie said, beginning to look scared.
“I know that.” Rita actually grinned, though her mouth looked as if it were fighting it. “But they don’t know that, do they. Just get on with it. We have to stop them before they leave and disappear again.”