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

“Is it Pascale?” asked Maisie.

MacFarlane nodded. “The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. We’ve heard via our sources that she managed to reach her grandmother’s house and is in hiding. The shoulder wound was caused by a bullet, though as far as we know it’s not too bad, but not entirely superficial—and she has lost some blood. The grandmother wants her to recover, but Granny is also nobody’s fool. She knows Pascale is effectively hiding in plain sight and must be on the move again soon. Seems both the old lady and Pascale have a way with canines, otherwise both would have been torn to shreds by the German guard dogs. I’d pay good money to see how the women calm them down—I could use their technique with my sister’s Jack Russell. Little piranha that he is. If it were a Saturday-morning comedy at the picture house, this would be a funny situation—how that grandmother is working right under the noses of the Gestapo.”

“How will Pascale get out?”

“Same way she got in—as you suggested, the place is full of hiding places and escape tunnels used by the aristocracy duringthe Revolution. She’s been seen by a local doctor—ostensibly called to attend to Chantal, who as we know is as strong as anox. She’ll leave tonight, alone, then meet her courier on the road. All being well and with the gods in attendance, she’llmake it into Spain and then to Gibraltar. We’ll have someone ready to meet her as soon as she reaches British territory. Atthat point she’ll be as good as home and dry.”

Maisie rubbed her forehead.

“Gibraltar bringing back memories, lass?”

Maisie nodded. “It’s the thought of her getting through France before reaching Spain that worries me—and she could be at riskin Spain. It might be a neutral country, but we both know the police there have been handing over known escapees from Belgiumand France to the German authorities.”

“We have confidence that she will get by in Spain because she speaks the language as fluently as if she were a native. Amazing, being able to slip from one language to the other like that, and then into English as if she were born to the upper classes. Anyway, if a navigator from Stepney named Dennis Kemp, who bailed out of a Wellington over France ten days ago, can get home and be in his mum’s kitchen having a cup of tea this afternoon, then she can make it to England in one piece too.”

“The shoulder wound—that’s a giveaway, surely.”

“Any German soldiers might try to flirt with her if they see her in a town, Maisie, but I don’t think they’re going to ripoff her jacket.” He shuffled his notes.

“But you’re worried, I can tell—they know who she is, don’t they? The Gestapo must be looking for her.”

“Maisie—she’ll get home. She’s been trained for this—she’s laying low and will be moving with care under cover of darknessfor the most part, and she won’t take any chances—she knows the risks.”

There was an hiatus in the conversation. An image flashed in Maisie’s mind’s eye: thirteen-year-old Pascale galloping towardher on a high-spirited stallion, laughing as she directed the horse toward the gate and clearing it by a foot before executinga perfect landing and cantering in a circle around Maisie.

“There’s the problem, Robbie—and I’m on the record drawing attention to it in my report. Pascale might know the risks, butit never stopped her taking them, even if she isn’t as hotheaded as Priscilla.” She looked down at her hands, then at MacFarlane.“You say she’s coming home via Gibraltar?”

MacFarlane appeared to consider the question for a moment. “No. I’m ahead of you, Maisie, even before you float the suggestiontoward me. The answer is a very firm ‘No.’ I’m shocked you’d even think about it.”

“I was just thinking that—”

“We will have someone meet her—someone else who knows her and knows Gibraltar and that part of Spain just across the border—but it won’t be you. You have other things to attend to, and other responsibilities. One of them is named Anna.”

“Yes, of course. You’re right. Sorry—it should never have crossed my mind. Am I free to leave now?”

“It’s gone five o’clock in the afternoon, so yes, you’re dismissed, Miss Dobbs. But before you go—a couple more files to takea gander at. Early days. Nothing doing yet—just possibilities. Bit of homework for you—but be careful with it. I’ll telephonein the morning.”

An ATS driver took Maisie back to her flat, where she once again checked the blackout curtains, then flopped down into thearmchair next to the fireplace. She had not bothered to remove her jacket, though she unpinned her hat and threw it to oneside, where it landed on the sideboard. She kicked off her shoes.

“Five minutes, and I’ll make a cup of tea,” she said aloud.

“Just what the doctor ordered—a nice cup of tea!”

Maisie started and jumped up from her chair. “Mark!”

Mark Scott walked from his hiding place in the dining room and took her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers before speaking.

“Missed you, Maisie.”

“I missed you too.” She looked up at him, the instant honesty of her comment rendering her heady. “I really missed you.”

“How about my specialty? Spaghetti, a nice bottle of wine and a great guy on the opposite side of the table?”

Maisie smiled. “Perfect! Though where will we find the guy?”

“I fell into that one, didn’t I?” Scott held her close. “I’m afraid I must leave after supper. I’ve a late briefing at theambassador’s residence.”

“Oh—”

“But I can come over here every evening for dinner this week until you leave, and then down to Chelstone on Saturday morninguntil Sunday, or even Monday morning—if you like.”

“I’d like that very much, Mark. So would Anna. She’ll be so excited—she has been despondent since Emma died.”

“I’ll cheer her up. And I’m sure Brenda will be overjoyed to see me!”

Maisie laughed. “Oh, it’s good to have you home, Mark Scott.” She blushed again as she spoke the words.

Scott lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “We’ve