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

“I can’t remember about the light and any direction, miss. It was very bright everywhere, on account of the moon. There wasn’tmuch in the way of clouds. And as I said before, I was close enough, but they couldn’t see me. I saw them though. And I sawthose lines, or whatever they were. I thought they were scars, like I told you before.”

Maisie smiled. “That’s all I needed, Freddie.” She reached into her bag for her purse and took out a shilling. “There youare—every little bit helps, doesn’t it? Are you working after school?”

Freddie took the shilling. “Thank you, Miss Dobbs.” He put the coin in his pocket. “I’ve to go over to Baker Street, but Idon’t know if there’s any messages for me to run with until I get there. They let me go home if I have to wait more than anhour.”

“Use some of your money to get the bus over there, Freddie. It’s a long way from here, so don’t wear yourself out.”

“Oh, I like running, miss. I like how my legs feel. All sort of tingly. Running’s what I’m good at. Everyone says so. When the war’s over, I’m going to the Olympics. Then when I’m too old to run, I’m going to teach other boys how to do it. My old PT teacher said I could be anything I wanted to be.” The boy looked down and kicked his foot against the wall. “He was training me, but then he went off with the evacuees.”

Maisie looked through the railings as if she were peering at Freddie through prison bars—though any railings were rare now,so many had been ripped out to send to the factories making war’s hardware: aircraft, tanks and munitions. “You know, Freddie—Ithink you stand every chance of going to the Olympics.”

Chapter 13

Maisie knew that as soon as she arrived at Chelstone railway station, her first task would be to go to Priscilla’s cottageso she could get the conversation she dreaded over and done with. Only then could she set her mind to anything else. She wouldbe unable to give any other matter her full attention until she had broken news of Elinor’s death to the family who lovedher.

Experience had taught Maisie that drawing back from the work of facing up to tragedy could cripple a person from within. Sheknew only too well that any reticence to look grief in the eye might cause emotions to atrophy, as if the heart had been drainedof an ability to feel even the most searing pain. Hadn’t she done the same thing, years ago, when she could not face the truthof what had happened to her first love, Simon, during the last war? The casualty clearing station where they were workingcame under attack, wounding them both, though Simon had sustained an injury to the brain from which he would never recover.Maisie had put off seeing him time and again, until months of fearful avoidance had become years and she was unable to takethe first step in the direction of a man so changed by war. No, she was determined to see Priscilla as soon as possible, orshe would drag her feet and too many days would elapse, and then MacFarlane would take up the task.

It was fortuitous that Douglas, Priscilla’s husband, was working at the cottage for a few days. He would anchor his family as news of Elinor’s death brought a dark cloud down upon them. Douglas, like his son, Tim, had lost an arm in the midst of conflict. It was an affliction that had become a joke in the family, after Tim recovered from his amputation. Yet Douglas had proven time and again that he had the ability to hold his family tight and close, that the act of encircling them during a time of deep sorrow had everything to do with inner and not physical strength.

“Maisie! My goodness, I thought I wouldn’t see you until Saturday—you usually go straight home from the train and bury yourselfaway with Anna! Come on, let’s have a . . . let’s have a cup of tea.” Priscilla chattered on, almost as if she had an innateawareness of something terrible closing in, and only constant conversation on her part would stave off the monster. “You almostcaught me there—I was going to say, ‘Let’s have a gin and tonic,’ and then I looked at the time—far too early for a drink.Mind you, I always maintain that the sun must be over the yardarm somewhere in the world, eh? Now then—”

“Pris—Pris, we must talk. Come along—let’s go into the sitting room. Is Douglas here?”

“Is it Tom? Is that why you’ve got that look on your face? What is it? I’ve got Tim and Tarquin accounted for, and Douglashas popped along the road to post a letter, but I don’t know about Tom.”

“No, it’s not Tom—all I know about Tom is that he’s training new pilots somewhere in Northumberland, and he’s in love witha flame-haired air force meteorologist.”

“Thank god for that—though I have my doubts about the meteorologist, and—”

“Pris—sit down.”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if my toads are all alive and well.” Priscilla took a seat on the small sofa and reached for her cigarettes and lighter. “Go on then, Maisie—fire away!”

Maisie took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself before plunging into a freezing cold lake. “Because we’re friends—likesisters . . .” She felt her throat become tighter. “Because we’re as good as family, I have been requested to inform you thatElinor has been tragically killed in a freak accident while driving a lorry between two military establishments. I don’t knowthe specifics, though I was assured that her passing would have been instantaneous. She would have felt no pain, no prolongedsuffering.” Maisie looked at Priscilla to check her reaction; she was staring straight at Maisie, a single unlit cigarettedrooping between two fingers.

“You’re lying.”

“No, Priscilla, I am not lying. I am telling the truth. I am really so very sorry.” Maisie stopped to take