The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

“I’ve put the kettle on, Maisie,” said Brenda. “Let’s have a nice cup of tea before your father comes back again with Anna.I’ve been meaning to ask you about that lovely necklace—I’ve not seen you wearing it before.” She raised an eyebrow. “Mindyou, it’d be nice to see that stone in a ring.”

Chapter 8

“Maisie! Hello, darling!” Priscilla tossed her cigarette onto the rails as she walked along the platform, and upon reachingMaisie, leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “I should have let you know I’d be taking the same train up to town, butI only decided last night—it’s a spot of luck though, isn’t it? We’ll have time for a nice long chat,” said Priscilla.

Maisie smiled, glad to have her friend’s company—she was becoming tired of her own thoughts, which had been circling timeand again around the question of Freddie Hackett and what he might have seen, or thought he had seen, on the night a man wasmurdered. “Bored with being in the country, are you, Priscilla?”

“Bored with myself, actually.” Priscilla sighed. “Douglas loves working at the cottage, with perhaps just the odd journey up to town to see the bods at the ministry to discuss his next story about the war, or to talk to his editor about the new book.” Douglas, Priscilla’s husband, had been assigned to work for the Ministry of Information for the war’s duration. “But now I’m feeling better—and more to the point, relieved that Tim is doing well—as well as can be expected anyway. Now I just have to get back to civilization a bit more often. I’ve tried gardening, tried watercolor painting and I’ve even tried to cook, all to no avail. And please—one more evening spent at a meeting of local women and I will have to tear my hair out. I’ve even seen Rowan gritting her teeth—we are not your jam-and-cakes sort of people, and neither are you. Your stepmother does a lovely lemon curd though.”

“You make me laugh, Pris—and I love you for it! But what will you do in London?”

“Well, the first thing I’m going to do is find out what’s going on with my niece! I’ve loved those long summer visits eversince you found Pascale for me, and now she’s a grown woman in London on a more permanent basis, it actually made me feelas if I had a daughter, instead of being the lone female among my four men. I do worry about her though, and I know she’sterribly concerned about her grandmother, as you can imagine. I keep telling her that Chantal is more than a match for anyGerman officer living at her chateau—the woman has steel for a backbone. But I—I suppose I just would like to see more ofPascale.”

“Pris—Pris, as I said before, she’s a young woman about town.”

Priscilla sighed, took her cigarette case from her handbag, but put it back again. “First sign of trouble and I want to lightup.” She shook her head. “Of course I know how it is. You find a party every night, if you can, and you make the most of itbecause tomorrow might not come. That’s what I did, anyway.”

“There you are—don’t expect to see her, Pris.”

“Maisie—” Priscilla turned to her friend. “Maisie . . . can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t know what’s goingon? As my dearest friend—the friend who saved my life? The friend who I know will be at my bedside as soon as I wake up frommy final operation on this dreadful scar.”

“Oh no you don’t, Pris—that’s pretty low even for you. Don’t start the ‘poor me’ line, when it’s clear I have no idea what Pascale is doing with her life. I mean, has it occurred to you that she might be seeing someone and she doesn’t want you to know because you’ll have a very definite opinion that might not match her own? The girl is over twenty-one.”

“So you don’t know then?”

“No—and why do you think I would know anyway?” Maisie did not flinch from her friend’s gaze.

“Because you know all sorts of things that are supposed to be on the q.t. Did you know she’s not at her flat? Told her flatmateshe had a work assignment in Scotland.”

“Priscilla, I suggest you stop gnawing at that bone. You know she has a translation job, and I am sure she is very busy—andyou were right when you said it could be hush-hush, which means it has nothing to do with anyone but Pascale and her employer.Ah, here comes our train.”

They boarded the train, Priscilla taking a seat opposite Maisie in the comfort of a first class carriage, with its wide seatsand mirrored bulkhead. Maisie felt her friend staring at her.

“What?”

“Have you heard from your James Stewart yet? Or is he out of sight, out of mind?”

“Pris—”

“Oh, never mind. I suppose any talk of your dishy American is considered careless!” Priscilla opened her newspaper and tookout her cigarette case. “To hell with the bloody operation. I need another gasper—and don’t worry, I’ll move over to the window.”

Maisie felt a sigh of relief as the train reached the buffers at Charing Cross Station. Not only had it been a long journey due to trains being held up as they progressed toward the bomb-damaged station, but Priscilla had been increasingly snippy. Yet upon arrival, after they had made their way along the platform and passed the ticket collector, Priscilla turned to Maisie and wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m sorry—I was just dreadful on the train.”

“You’re worried, Pris—and you’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time.”

“What with Tom flying bloody Hurricanes, Tim becoming quite another person after losing his arm, and then taking it out oneveryone around him—mainly me . . . added to which I have Tarquin going off to be a forestry worker. I worry that he’ll beset upon by thugs and beaten to a pulp for being a conchie! Douglas is immersed in his work, and then there I am—the lostsoul