“All right.” Sadie moved to the door. “How long do you think it will be before we get an answer?”
“Don’t know. I s’pose it depends on how quick it gets across the ocean.”
“It don’t seem right, does it. Those men so far away from home, and nobody bothers to even write them a letter.”
“Well, they’ve got lots from the village now. Marlene said they were real excited to get them, too.”
“Yeah.” Sadie smiled with pride. “We did a good thing, Polly.”
“Yes, we did.” Polly got up and hugged her friend. “Be careful riding home.”
Calling out to Polly’s ma, Sadie let herself out the front door and climbed on her bicycle. Already the night had crept in from the ocean, leaving just a pale pink glow above the dense woods. Sadie could see the silhouette of the old windmill as she cycled up the hill, and above it a formation of airplanes heading for the base. The rumble of their engines floated down as they circled inland and then faded into the shadows of the evening sky.
A moment later Sadie heard the roar of another engine. She looked up, expecting to see a straggler in the sky. No one liked to see that. It usually meant that something was wrong with the plane, and the pilot was having trouble getting home.
The sky appeared to be empty, and she realized that what she’d heard was the sound of a Jeep’s engine. She peered ahead in the shadowy twilight, watching for it to come around the bend. The Yanks never could remember which side of the road to drive on.
When she eventually caught sight of the Jeep, it wasn’t on the road at all. It was bouncing across the downs, heading for the woods. It was hard to see in the gathering darkness, but it looked like there were four people sitting in it.
Frowning, Sadie pedaled on. What would the Yanks be doing taking a Jeep into the woods? They had to be doing some training. “Maneuvers” they called it. She heard them now and again, when the wind was in the right direction. The soft explosions in the distance and bright flashes of light had scared the dickens out of the villagers until they got used to them.
Smiling to herself, she put her head down and pumped faster. It would soon be too dark to see, and she still had that driveway waiting for her.
Violet still wasn’t home when Elizabeth arrived back at the manor, and, more worried than ever, she made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to eat her Cornish pasties. They didn’t taste quite as good as she remembered, though she was generous enough to allow that her anxiety had probably tainted her appetite.
Rather than sit in absolute silence, she switched on the wireless and listened to the gentle strains of a Brahms symphony. She was halfway through her second pasty when the announcer’s voice declared solemnly, “This is British Broadcasting, and here is the news. The Allies bombed areas of France again this evening, inflicting heavy damage. Casualties are light, and the War Office reports-”
Elizabeth lunged for the radio and switched it off. The dogs, who had been sleeping under the table, leapt to their feet, growls rumbling in their throats.
“It’s all right, darlings.” Elizabeth dropped to her knees and patted both their heads. “It’s quite all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. She had seen no Jeeps in the courtyard when she’d put her motorcycle away. None at all. And there had been none at the pub. What was it Earl had said? Things are heating up. They were getting ready for something. Something big. No one would know about it until after it was underway. And then it would be too late.
Her fear became overwhelming, and she clasped both dogs to her, burying her face in their soft fur. She prayed as she’d never prayed before. She was still on her knees when the shrill jangle of the telephone shattered the silence.
Nellie winced as the Jeep bounced over roots and in and out of deep ruts between the trees. The jolts jarred her teeth and rattled her bones until she thought they must all be broken. What frightened her most was that the driver of the Jeep couldn’t possibly see in the dark, and she expected any minute to crash into a tree and be struck dead. It was somewhat of a relief when they burst out from the trees and swung into a narrow lane bordered by hedges too tall to see over, even in daylight.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, struggling to free herself from the rope that bound her hands.
“You’ll see,” muttered the driver.
She stared at her kidnappers, still numb with disbelief. Not only had she let herself be captured and tied up like a trussed chicken, the “men” had turned out to be young kids, probably still at school. After she’d dragged the scarf from one of their faces, the other two had uncovered theirs as well.
What a fool she was going to look, being kidnapped by schoolboys. “You’re going to be in dead trouble when they catch you,” she said, glaring at the boy seated next to her.
He shrugged. “So who’s going to catch us? That bunch of old biddies squealing like stuck pigs back there?”
“The American MPs, that’s who.” She smiled with grim satisfaction. “Just wait until they get hold of you. The Yanks can be really nasty when they get fired up. I’ve seen them in action.”
“I just bet you have,” the boy sneered, making her itch to slap his face.
“Shut up, Robbie,” the driver snapped. “Just ignore her. You’ll give too much away if you talk to her.”
“Robbie?” Nellie nodded. “Nice name that. Robbie who?”
The driver flung a vicious scowl at Robbie. “Now look what you’ve bleeding done. Now she knows your name, stupid.”
“Yeah, well who was stupid enough to let her pull his scarf off then? Bighead Stan, that’s who.”
“Robbie and Stan.” Nellie was fast losing her fear. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy herself. “Now we only have one name to go.” She looked at the boy seated next to Stan. “So what’s your name, love?”
The third boy didn’t answer her, and her apprehension returned as the Jeep swung off the road and came to a halt in front of a gate.
“Open it,” Stan ordered.
Neither of his companions moved.
“Open the bloody gate, Robbie,” Stan yelled.
“Why me? Why can’t Jimmy do it?”
Both boys turned around to glare at him. “If you can’t keep your bloody big mouth shut I’ll shut it for you,” Stan muttered. “Now get out and open the bloody gate.”
“All right, keep your hair on. I’m going.” Robbie climbed out and shoved the gate open. He waited until Stan had driven the Jeep into the field, then closed the gate behind it.
Nellie considered making a run for it, but with her hands tied behind her back she’d never make it. Better to wait until she could free herself and then escape. Her uneasiness increased as the Jeep bumped across the plowed ruts. It was pitch dark now, but she could see the outline of a huge barn in front of them.
They halted when they reached it, and this time Robbie jumped out without being asked. After dragging the huge doors open, he stood back and Stan drove the Jeep inside. Nellie’s spirits dropped as the doors squeaked shut behind her. The barn smelled of manure and dried hay, and the dust tickled her nose, making her sneeze.
A beam of light probed the darkness from a torch in Stan’s hand. He cut the engine and jumped out. “Bring her over here,” he ordered, pointing to a ladder leading up to a high ledge.
Despite her struggles, Nellie was helpless as the two boys grasped her arms and forced her over to the ladder. She was beginning to realize now that though they were much younger than her, she was powerless against them together. Once more her fear was thick in her throat.
Her hands were roughly set free, then Stan ordered, “Get up there!” and gave her a shove.
“Keep your filthy hands off me,” she snarled, managing to sound threatening in spite of the heavy hammering of her heart.
“Or you’ll what?” Stan said nastily.