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

into London, and I think some additional teachers are needed because so many haveremained with their classes while they’re evacuated. I know they’re a bit short at my daughter’s school, and that’s in thecountry.”

Grace shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. Not now. It was a long time ago, and I’ve been cleaning houses to make ends meet foryears. Even if I was called for an interview, I’d just be the woman who scrubs floors, dusts, does the laundry and polishesthe silver.”

“You’ve done well with your children, Mrs. Hackett. I understand that Freddie is coming along at school”—Maisie turned herattention to Freddie—“when he goes.”

Freddie, still standing, looked down at his shoes.

“I know it’s a new school, Freddie—but I think you should attend,” said Maisie. “You’re not that long from getting your schoolleaving certificate, and that will make all the difference to your future.”

“I’ll end up in the army anyway, what with this war,” said Freddie.

“I believe it will be over by the time you’re of enlistment age. But I want you to go to school, Freddie—and I can make sureyour mum is safe.”

Freddie shrugged, still sullen.

“Anyway, the reason I came here today is that I wanted to see you, Freddie.” Maisie reached into her bag and brought out thephotograph of Major Chaput. She passed it to Freddie. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

Freddie studied the photograph. “He looks posher in this photo, what with him wearing a uniform. And younger. But he’s theone I saw when I delivered the envelope to that house, on the night I saw the murder.”

Maisie stared at Freddie. “And you told Mr. Beale and myself that he was the same man who committed murder.”

Freddie paused, looking again at the photograph. “Yes. Yes, he was. He’s the same man.” He passed the photograph back to Maisie.“And he’s got them funny lines on his face, big folding lines like an old bloke, but he doesn’t look old.” He avoided Maisie’seyes. “I s’pose they look like scars, and there’s that bit under his eye, like he got splashed with bleach.”

Maisie nodded. “You’re sure it was the man to whom you delivered the envelope?”

Freddie nodded. “Mmmm, yes, I’m sure. And he looks like the same man who came to the school. How did you find him, Miss Dobbs?”

“It was a bit of luck, actually. I met this man a few days after you came to the office to speak to us. Because he fitted your description, I thought it would be unusual to come across a person similar in looks so soon after having a picture in my mind of a man who looked like him, based upon your recollection. I paid attention, and I was therefore in a position to make inquiries. That’s what I do.”

“Mr. Beale said you make lucky guesses about things.”

Maisie laughed, picked up her cup and took another sip of the cooling tea. “I suppose it might look like that—but as I said,it’s about paying attention.” She replaced the cup in the saucer and set it on the tray, and this time stared Freddie in theeye for more time than he might have found comfortable. “Yes, I watch and listen, Freddie. To everything people say and do.I also listen carefully to the things they don’t say and do.”

She put away the photograph, and came to her feet. “Mrs. Hackett, thank you so much for the tea. I should be on my way. Donot worry about your journey to and from work—you will be safe. You are secure in this flat, and it is being monitored bythe local police—a favor to me from people I know.” She turned to Freddie. “Which means you can return to school. If you like,I can speak to your teacher. You will be perfectly secure there, Freddie—and you don’t have to worry about your mum. You areall so much better off than you were living with . . . living at your previous address.”

“What about the other man, Miss Dobbs—the one who was knifed? Have they found him yet?”

Maisie’s reply was direct. “Yes, they have. He has been identified, though I cannot tell you more than that.”

“Will that man go to prison and be hung, the one who killed him?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he’s important. I could see that in the picture. He’s in a French uniform, and he’s got a lot of medals. He mustbe important.”

“No one is too important to get away with a crime, Freddie.”

Maisie regarded Freddie Hackett and saw him draw into himself, as if he were already sprinting away in his mind, his legs carrying him from the room as a fear-stoked engine drove his energy forward.

 

“Oh how lovely to see you, Your Ladyship. I am sure Miss Hunter will be delighted you’ve called again. She’s in her study,working on something she’s penning for a journal.” Gabriella Hunter’s housekeeper stood back to allow Maisie to enter thehallway. “Mind you, I don’t know when it will be published—it’s all they can do to get enough paper for the dailies, isn’tit? Everything’s running short—except Mr. Hitler’s bombs!”

Maisie agreed—it seemed that everyone had an opinion these days, whether it was about the shortage of sugar, of bread, orwhether that beef in the shop was really horse meat and the butcher was pulling the wool over his customers’ eyes.

“Maisie, my dear, I can’t say I’m surprised to see you again so soon. You’re so like Maurice at times—give you a little somethingto chew on, and then you come back to ask for more. Sit down and tell me.” Gabriella tucked her bobbed hair behind one ear,as if ready to hear what Maisie had to say. “Something exciting?”

“It might be exciting to some,” said Maisie as she took a seat.

“Go on.” She put her notebook and pen onto a side table and faced Maisie, her hands in her lap. Maisie thought she lookedlike a schoolgirl.

“I am here to ask for more help. You still have some contacts in France, though you may not even have to go that far to findout what I