Elizabeth almost smiled. “Tell Mrs. Crumm I am eternally grateful.”
“Yes, m’m. Oh, and I heard from the inspector. He says he’ll be down here in a day or two to look into the wedding guest murder.”
The news gave Elizabeth a jolt. She’d been so wrapped up in Nellie’s kidnapping, she had neglected her promise to the Winterhalters that she would do what she could to investigate the murder. “Thank you, George.” She paused. “I will join the search party as soon as I can. I have an important errand to run first.”
“That’s all right, your ladyship. I don’t think you should be tramping around in the woods anyway. Not fitting, is it.”
“George, when one of my tenants is in trouble, doing what is fitting is the least of my concerns.”
“Yes, m’m. So I’ve noticed.”
His dry tone told Elizabeth he would rather she stayed out of the search altogether. He might know that wasn’t going to happen. At least he wasn’t aware of her investigation into the murder. Not yet, anyway. With any luck at all, he wouldn’t find out until she had discovered Brian Sutcliffe’s killer.
“All right, everyone. Let’s get in line. One behind the other, please!”
Grumbling, the ladies obeyed Rita’s orders. With much shoving, pushing, and complaining, they finally managed a straggly line in front of the police station where they’d been told to assemble.
“Now,” Rita announced, “I’m going to pair you off. Each pair will go in a different direction. You all have your whistles, don’t you?”
A few of the women nodded: a couple of them held up the whistles hanging around their necks.
“Just to make sure,” Rita insisted, “I want everyone to blow their whistles. Once.”
Unfortunately, her last word was drowned out by a chorus of shrill screams from the women’s whistles. Jumping up and down, Rita waved her arms in an attempt to quiet them. No one paid any attention to her. In fact, they seemed determined to outdo each other, blowing until their faces were red.
In the midst of all the horrendous racket, George came running out of the station, with Sid hot on his heels. “ ’Ere, ’ere,” George yelled, “what’s all this then?”
“Crikey!” Sid shouted. “I thought it was the bloomin’ invasion.”
“Shut up, shut up!” Rita screeched, only adding to the noise.
Finally, George went down the line, tugging whistles from the mouths of the grinning women. “It’s about time you lot learned to keep order,” George grumbled. “This is serious business. One of your members is missing, in the hands of hardened criminals. I should think you’d all be more worried about her than tormenting your leader.”
The women sobered at once, exchanging sheepish glances. “Sorry, Rita,” Florrie said, always the first to kiss Rita’s boots. “We didn’t mean no harm.”
Red in the face herself, Rita pulled herself up straight as a ramrod. “Now listen to me,” she barked. “Nellie’s life could depend on how fast we find her. I suggest we get to it and start looking for her.” She called off names and gave them the direction in which they had to go.
Marge wasn’t too happy to find she was paired with Florrie. She’d have much rather been with her mate, Clara, who wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Florrie was such a baby, jumping at every little noise and always afraid the Germans were going to come and take her away. Though why on earth the Nazis would want her, Marge couldn’t imagine.
She managed to wave to Clara as they set off, happy to notice her friend didn’t seem any happier than she was with her partner, Joan Plumstone. Joan was all right, but she hardly ever smiled, and if she ever really laughed she’d crack her face. Clara wouldn’t like that. She liked to joke around all the time. Though Marge had to admit, Nellie being missing wasn’t much of a joke.
“Come on,” she said to Florrie, who looked as if she’d wet her drawers any minute, “we’ve got a long walk before we get to the woods. We need to hurry.”
“I can’t hurry too much,” Florrie said in her whiney voice. “My feet hurt.”
Blimey, they’d barely started and her blinking feet hurt already? Marge heaved a sigh. This was not going to be much fun.
Nellie pulled her knees up under her chin and watched the sunlight creeping through the cracks in the barn walls. She’d heard her captors come back hours ago. From what she could hear, their mission, whatever that was, had failed. They would have to try again tonight.
She was hungry and thirsty, and she needed to piddle. The thought of enduring another day and night in this horrible place was enough to drive her barmy. Right now the three of them were sleeping.
When she thought about the lousy night she’d had, trying to sleep on the hard floor, she got really, really mad. Bloody sods. She’d like to ram their teeth down their throat. Her anger goaded her into action. She slid forward until she was close to the edge of the ledge and could look down.
They were right below her, lying on their backs, mouths open, sleeping like babies. Well, she’d settle that. In her temper she kicked a pile of hay over the ledge.
It showered down on the three below. None of them moved. Not even when some of it went in Stan’s mouth. He just blew it out with his next breath.
Frustrated and angrier than ever, Nellie eyed the lamp. That would make a nice noise. She picked it up and hurled it to the ground. It landed with an almighty crash and a splintering of glass.
“What the…?” Stan sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Robbie rolled over and stared sleepily at him. “Watcha doing?”
“I didn’t do nothing. The lamp fell down.” Stan looked up, straight into Nellie’s face. “No, it didn’t. That bitch threw it down. It could’ve killed one of us.”
“Too bad it didn’t,” Nellie said nastily.
“’Ere, watch it. Or I’ll come up there and show you what for.”
“You and whose bleeding army?”
“Just me, that’s who.”
“Shut up, Stan. Don’t let her lead you on,” Jimmy said.
Nellie sat on the edge of the ledge, her legs dangling over their heads. “What makes you think the bobbies are going to mistake you for the musketeers, anyhow? Them blokes are a lot older than you. How old are you anyway? Thirteen?”
Robbie snorted. “We’re fifteen, stupid.”
“Shut up,” Stan warned.
“Fifteen.” Nellie shook her head. “Old enough to know better. You’re never going to get away with this, you know. The bobbies will know you’re not the musketeers. They’re a lot more clever than you are. They wouldn’t have messed up a mission.”
“We didn’t mess it up,” Robbie muttered. “We couldn’t get on the base, that’s all.”
Both his companions turned on him. “Shut your mouth!” they snarled in unison.
Nellie felt a stab of hope. “Is that your mission? To get on the American base?”
“Never mind what our mission is. Just keep your nose out of it if you don’t want it smashed in.”
Nellie smiled. “What if I was to tell you I know how to get you on the base?”
All three boys stared up at her. How’d you know that?” Stan demanded.
Sadie shrugged. “Been on it enough times, haven’t I. I know all the tricks. I could get you in and out without anyone knowing you’d been there. That’s as long as you didn’t mess things up while you was there.”
“Why would you want to help us do that?” Stan asked, his voice full of suspicion.
“It’s blinking obvious, isn’t it. I tell you how to get on the base, and you let me go.” She waited, holding her breath, for his answer. If they didn’t let her go soon, she didn’t know what she was going to do.