Dead Ground in Between (13 page)

“It's several feet underground. They all are. Easier to conceal that way. It's about eight feet long, over six feet high, and six wide. Cold to be sure, but snug. Put a paraffin lantern in there, paraffin stove, and cook yourself a chop. There's even a chemical toilet.”

“Blimey. Sounds better than what we've got here.”

“Almost. The walls are lined with planks and so is the floor. Originally this one must have been part of a big rabbit warren because three or four holes on the one side look out down the hill slope. They've been glazed in for protection
and have blackout shutters. You'd never even know the place existed from that side of the hill. There's a second exit in case of emergencies several feet away, and it's just as well concealed. An old cattle trough stands over the entrance, and when you pull on a latch, a grill drops open onto a chimney just wide enough for a slimmish man to climb into. Jasper Cartwright was lying at the bottom of the ladder.”

“How'd the nippers find the bunker if it was supposed to be so well hidden?”

Tyler winced. “Good question. They're keen Boy Scouts, and according to them they decided to look for signs of enemy activity. All the lads are told to do that. Keeps them busy.”

“Rotten weather to be out scouting.”

“Jan said they were getting some fresh air. He does most of the talking, and according to him his little brother needed something to distract him from the upset of being in a court of law. He talks like that. He's either going to be a successful criminal or a politician, he is. He says they actually investigated what they thought were rabbit holes in case there was a mine buried in the warren.”

“You'd think that was a good reason to stay away,” said Rowell.

“You would, wouldn't you? But Jan says he noticed the hole was covered with a glass window. Smart lad that he is, he thought that was a bit fishy, rabbits not being big on windows. He and his brother explored all around and realized the trough was in a peculiar place. He could see it had been moved. Remarkably, they found the trigger that released the lid to the entrance. Jan climbed partway down and almost stepped on the old man's body. That's what he told us, anyway.”

Rowell whistled through his teeth. “Sounds like a lot of malarkey to me.”

“Me too. That hideout is so well hidden it's practically invisible. And it was quite dark when they supposedly came across it.”

“What's the truth, then?”

“I don't know as yet. Constable Mortimer also thought the boys weren't coming clean, but what they're hiding she couldn't say.”

“Are we to assume the old fellow knew of the hideout and climbed down there to get out of the storm?”

Tyler shrugged. “He must have. A lot of the Auxiliaries were recruited from the Home Guard. However, Jasper Cartwright was a bit long in the tooth to be trained as a commando, not to mention that by all accounts he was starting to lose his marbles.”

“Surely there's a list somewhere. Aren't we the police in this region? The chief constable must have some knowledge of the goings-on.”

“Presumably he does. He should know who has been recruited and where the hideouts and observation posts were built. But it's highly classified information.”

Rowell shook his head. “Lord help us, I can't stand all this rigmarole. If we're not in the know, how the hell – excuse the language, sir – how the heck can we keep law and order?”

“I'm with you, Oliver, but I've been told that the chief had to take a secrecy oath, with a promise to commit suicide if we were invaded so he wouldn't reveal the whereabouts of the cells if he had the misfortune to be tortured.”

“Blimey.”

“Blimey indeed. Might be a good thing for us we haven't been included in the secret.”

“If the chief constable gives you the list of the Auxiliaries, will you have to take that oath too? The one swearing to kill yourself?” Oliver raised his eyebrows.

“God, I never thought of that. I suppose I will.”

“Blimey.”

“I'll take the train to Shrewsbury headquarters tomorrow. I daren't talk on the telephone. Let's hope the chief will cooperate and not force me to torture him.”

He was joking, they both were, but there was something about the topic that cast a dark shadow.

“Do you think there's still a possibility the Krauts will invade us, sir?”

“If we lose the war, they will.”

Rowell had splurged and built up the fire, and Tyler watched the flames dancing in the fireplace for a few moments in silence.

“Must have been the devil to get the body out of there,” said Rowell.

“You're telling me. He was stiff as a board. Place was dark as hell. Dr. Murnaghan got the job done fast, all things considering.” Tyler smiled. “Nimble as a monkey that man. He's past retirement age but he's like an eager kid when it comes to examining bodies.”

“How did the Cartwrights take it?”

“John Cartwright took it very hard. His wife not as much. It was obvious there was no love lost between her and her father-in-law. According to Edie Walpole, their Land Girl, Jasper was a righteous old misery to both Susan and her son. He's from her previous marriage, name of Ned Weaver. He hardly said a word, but he certainly wasn't grieved.”

“Shame all round, though, isn't it, sir?”

“Certainly is, Oliver.”

After his meal, Tyler walked down the hill and through the arch of the old gate into Lower Broad Street. The street was completely dark, no lights showing anywhere. If he hadn't had his torch he would have tripped over the rough, untended patches
of pavement. This area of town below the wall seemed like a poor relation, not well cared for.

A rickety gate almost off its hinges guarded the entry to River Close, where Nuala Keogh lived. It creaked abominably when Tyler pushed it open. The row of cottages had originally been built for workers at the gristmill and they all faced the river, which he could hear below but not see. The ground in between had obviously been “dug for victory.” Every scrap of land was being used to grow vegetables. This strip was probably lush enough in summer but muddy and barren now, drab and forlorn in the rain.

The cottages were two-storey, narrow-fronted, and seemed shabby and rundown. Only number two, second to the end, showed any evidence of care. The white trim was painted, the brass knocker was polished.

Tyler rapped on the door, which was opened almost immediately by Mrs. Keogh. He was rather gratified by the look of pleasure that came into her eyes. She was wearing a snug plaid dressing gown that fit in all the right places.

He tipped his hat. “Sorry to call on you so late, Mrs. Keogh. You've obviously retired for the night. I just thought I'd do a last check on the boys.”

“No, no. That's quite all right. I was reading. They're in bed, though.”

“I, er…”

“Come in out of the cold, at least.”

“I won't stay…”

“You can have a cup of tea, surely? I'd be glad of the company.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

She followed the obligatory blackout regulations and brought him into the dark tiny hallway before closing the front door behind him.

“Here, let me take your hat and coat.”

He handed them over, awkward in the confined space and darkness.

“I'm in the kitchen.”

She pulled aside a felt curtain and they went inside. Here, the room was lit by only a couple of oil lamps that created deep pools of shadow. It was warm, although the fire in the hearth was low, embers really. Tyler had the impression of worn furniture but, like the front door, everything seemed clean and cared for. There was a smart ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and a couple of framed photos. Wedding pictures, as far as he could tell.

“Here, have yourself a seat,” she said, and pulled an armchair closer to the fire. She had clearly been sitting in the other chair, a rocker, and he glimpsed an upturned book. He couldn't see what it was.

“So then would you be for having a cuppa tea?”

“Thanks.”

There was a kettle simmering on the hob and she lifted it off and carried it to the sink. While there was obviously no electricity, at least there was an inside pump.

“How are the lads doing now?” he asked her.

“Unusually subdued. As you can imagine, it has been a shocking experience for them.” As she poured the hot water into a teapot, her sleeve fell back to reveal her pale forearm.

I truly am love-starved
, thought Tyler.
Everything this woman does seems attractive. The way she speaks, moves. Oh, God help us
.

“When she brought them here, your lady constable said you had spoken to the boys, at the farmhouse. I hope we can leave them for the time being. Just so they get a chance to recover. Neither of them wanted to go to bed. I made up a fire in their room to cheer them up a bit and I had to leave a candle lit.”

“Of course. That interview about the Woolworth's incident can wait. I just wanted to follow up on today.”

Mrs. Keogh brought over a tea tray and placed it on the padded footstool.

“Sorry, I'm all out of biscuits, and you'll have to scrape that bowl to get sugar. I used up my rations too fast this month, and I'm trying to hold back a bit of the sugar for the Christmas.”

She poured him a cup of very strong-looking tea and, without asking, added a splash of milk.

“I only moved in here in May, from Dublin. It's hard getting used to having no electricity. We don't even have an indoor toilet here. We have to use the communal privy down the end of the row. Five of us, would you believe. Dreadful.”

She dragged the rocking chair in closer.

“This always makes me feel like an old granny but the other chairs are in the parlour. I don't get a lot of company, truth to tell. You know how the English can be with us Irish. Cromwell all over again.”

Tyler muttered an apology for his fellow Brits. He took a sip of the tea. It was tepid and very bitter.

She must have seen his expression. “Sorry, it's impossible to get the silly kettle to a boiling point.”

“It's fine. Very robust, really.”

She burst out laughing. “For a policeman you have excellent manners.”

“Hey, come on!” He grinned back at her. “Why shouldn't a policeman have good manners?”

“My apologies. I'm judging you by Irish standards.”

Another sip of the dreadful brew.

“You were saying? Your neighbours aren't too friendly?”

“It's not that they're unfriendly exactly, but they don't quite know what to make of us. Me and the boys, that is. It'll take
time I'm after thinking. So why am I living here, you're wondering.”

“All right. Why are you?”

“I came to be near to my husband. His mother is English and he felt a certain loyalty to her country. He joined up with the 5th Suffolk Battalion. Dublin seemed far away, and there was a position come available at the local library, so I jumped at the chance to be closer to him.” She paused. “Nobody knew that the catastrophe of Singapore lay ahead.”

Tyler recalled that, according to the magistrates' docket, Mrs. Keogh was a widow. He waited.

“I got word that he was missing in action, believed dead.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Keogh. That must have been dreadful for you.”

She stared into space for a moment. “ ‘Believed dead' leaves one open to hope, doesn't it? Not
confirmed
dead,
believed
dead. I keep hoping he's been taken prisoner. I want him to be alive, but then there are fearful stories coming out about how the Japanese are treating the
POWS
.”

Tyler had heard those stories too, and he felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her.

“I was glad when the town council put out a notice that they still needed homes for evacuees,” she went on. “This house is small but I was most happy to have the boys. They give me something to take my mind off Paddy.”

A silence fell between them but it was companionable rather than awkward. Tyler found Mrs. Keogh easy to be with.

She spoke first. “Your constable filled me in when she brought the boys home but she couldn't say too much. Even Jan said they had taken an oath on their Scout's honour not to disclose where the body was found. They both seemed
so frightened and oppressed by that. The oath, I mean. Was that necessary?”

“I'm afraid it was.”

“How did the man die?”

“We don't know exactly. The coroner will do a post-mortem.”

“There weren't ghastly wounds or anything like that, were there? I don't want the boys to start having nightmares again. They've only just begun to sleep through the night.”

“No. No obvious signs of violence. It's most likely Jasper Cartwright died from exposure.”

“And that's all you can tell me?”

“At the moment.” Tyler chewed his lip. “One question about the lads. Is it usual for them to go so far afield?”

“Why not? They're used to riding all over the neighbourhood. Why do you ask?”

“For one thing, the weather was miserable.”

“They're hardy. I've bought them macks and boots and they seem to be fine.” She winced. “Sorry, I sound defensive even to myself, but I do care for the little rascals, and I've tried to strike a balance between giving them independence and being overly protective.”

“And I get the impression you've done a great job,” said Tyler. “But when I spoke to the boys about what they were up to, I thought they weren't being entirely truthful.”

“Perhaps it's because you're a police officer,” she said with a shrug. “Their early encounters with local authorities have not been positive. They've learned to be wary. Not to mention the upset of the court experience.” She picked up the poker and prodded at the log. The dying fire leaped into flames. “They like being here with me, but school has been difficult. Not all the children are willing to give my two a bit
of leeway. They don't understand them.” She stared into the fire. “They've said so little. Sometimes I can only guess at what they've already experienced.”