Easterleigh Hall at War (23 page)

Dobbs leaned away, speechless it seemed, so Auberon proceeded to tell him what he had said, all over again, and the detail of what the major needed to do, and left.

The next day the order came round via the adjutant forbidding contact with home, bank, or tailor. By January 1916 Kommandant Habicht had been removed, and Kommandant Klein installed. Mail was released, and letters could be written again.

On 12th January, when work had begun on an escape tunnel under the dining hall, which doubled with the concert hall, to head out beneath the foundations of the barrack wall, Auberon entered Major Dobbs' room again, and plonked himself down on the edge of the desk before speaking. ‘I have repeatedly asked for your support in my request for the transfer of my men. You have refused to take it to the colonel, though you promised before I agreed to leave the transit camp. I was told that to remain with my men would set a bad example. I know exactly where they are now, thanks to letters they have written home. We have had many more officers join us, many without orderlies, such are the hardships of war. Colonel Mathers will just have to hear whose idea the strike was, unless you explain to him that we have need for more orderlies, but more importantly, we have need of miners for the tunnel.'

Dobbs laid down
The Thirty-nine Steps
, borrowed from the camp library, and found his voice. ‘Get off my desk, and we dig our own tunnels. It is a matter of honour, and how dare you blackmail me?'

Auberon ignored him. ‘I repeat, my men are miners, there are four of them, these are their names, and the stalag where they are being held.' He slapped the paper on Dobbs' desk. ‘My sister, Lady Veronica Brampton, has been in touch with your family, to be supportive, you understand. If you do not, in turn, support this request they will hear of your duplicity. My men will be brought here as orderlies by the end of January, they will also help in the digging of the tunnel which should prevent falls as happened, last week, and injured Captain Frost. The existing orderlies will assume their duties. My men will, of course, be amongst the escapers.'

He stood now, his shaking hands deep in his pockets. His heart was hammering so hard he was surprised that Dobbs could not hear it. Throttling the bastard would not achieve anything, but doing so metaphorically could be extremely productive. Still keeping his voice level, he continued, ‘Finally, of course, this is your initiative, your idea to seek advice from such men, in order to expedite the work. Who knows, it could raise you to Lieutenant Colonel, especially if a remarkable number effect an escape from a well-built tunnel.'

He sauntered from the room, hearing Dobbs almost scream, ‘You bloody Terries, you have no sense of what is good form.'

Auberon whirled on his heel, and re-entered. ‘That reminds me. Smythe and Frost will be in the escape party. Frost's arm should be healed by then. It will take a long time to tunnel, such is the subterranean composition of the ground.'

As he left he heard Dobbs' high-pitched voice. ‘Go to hell.'

Auberon slipped and slid across the icy square where some officers had created skates and were twirling. No doubt he would do as Dobbs said, but at least hell would be warm. He entered his hut. Frost was lounging on his bed, his arm strapped, and Smythe was writing a letter. They looked up. ‘Well?'

Auberon grinned. ‘Carrot and stick. Now we wait, but he's had a bloody bayonet up his backside and I reckon it will move him. He feels we have no sense of good form.'

‘Hooray to that,' Smythe laughed. ‘If you could have gone straight to Mathers it would have been different. He's a good sort. Let's see now.'

On 30th January Auberon was called into Mathers' office. He stood to attention. Major Dobbs stood at Mathers' side and Auberon nodded, but let his body relax out of attention. Mathers said, chewing on his empty pipe as he always did, ‘Sit you down, Brampton. Now I hear Dobbs discovered that you have some miners whose expertise we need. As you know we normally do our own digging, but getting around the foundations has thwarted too many attempts, and the rocks beneath these barracks have proved insurmountable. We need a miracle.'

He tapped his pipe on the desk, and replaced it. It was extraordinary how easily the man could speak with it gripped between those teeth.

Auberon wanted to punch the air, but instead smiled. ‘Jack Forbes is used to pulling those out of a hat, trust me.'

There was no heat coming from the colonel's stove. He would only light it as the sun went down as part of his war effort; the other was to organise as many escapes as possible. Auberon wished he wasn't quite so principled. It was bloody freezing. The colonel continued, frowning, ‘Ah yes, Sergeant Forbes.'

Auberon's heart sank. What the hell had Jack done now?

‘The problem is that I have already contacted him, and word has just reached us that Sergeant Forbes has refused, therefore so have Corporal Preston and the two privates. It would have been a good idea, but as it is, it is a balls-up and time-waster.'

Auberon felt his jaw drop, saw the fury in Dobbs' eyes. What the hell was Jack playing at, the stupid bugger? He'd told him he'd bring them out. He coughed. ‘Was a reason given, sir?'

Mathers scanned a note on his desk. ‘It seems that there's a fifth miner, Corporal Mart . . .' He strained to make out the name.

‘Dore,' said Auberon. ‘Of course, Mart Dore.'

‘Unless he's included, they won't come. It seems that an order is not an order in this man's army. Another strike on our hands, I feel.' Mathers' tone was dry.

Auberon wanted to laugh with relief. Bugger Jack, bugger him for being as strong and awkward as he'd always bloody been. It meant he was fit and well. He said, ‘Mart Dore worked with them back home, I had forgotten my sister's news on that. They've all been drafted into this mine that's been reopened. There's a shortage of coal in our enemy's house, it seems, though knowing Jack he's slowed production up a bit.'

Mathers threw the letter down. ‘Not sure we want trouble-makers here.'

Auberon felt like crossing his fingers as he lied, ‘Oh no, not Jack. Never caused a moment's trouble in his life, just doing what we have all been ordered to do, a bit of sabotage and try to escape.'

Dobbs wriggled, because he was one who had declined to join the escape, preferring, Auberon was pretty sure, to sit out the war playing chess and reading novels. But who could really blame him?

Mathers pointed to the note. ‘Deal with this immediately in the affirmative, Dobbs. We have a huge intake of officers and we can't have them denied their servants, can we?' He shared a glance with Auberon, one of distaste, or was it despair. Perhaps it was both.

EVIE HEARD THE
lorry being driven into the garage yard, and snatched up her shawl, following Annie who was back at Captain Richard's request, her loyalty to Easterleigh Hall firmly in place. Together with Mrs Moore they ran out of the door and up the steps to meet Harry Travers, and his bees. As they reached the top step they heard Harry's voice. ‘Steady, old chap. The bees are on their sofas having a snooze.'

They grinned at one another as he jumped out of the lorry, or hopped perhaps, because his weight was on his proper leg, not his wooden one. Their rush towards their favourite returning ‘son' was overtaken by the laundry girls, who had been loitering over the task of hanging up the washing, waiting for him. ‘Mr Harry,' Sally called, a wet sheet bundled up in her arms. ‘Grand you're back, and not just because we all like honey.'

The other girls laughed. Harry used just a cane nowadays, his father had told them when he had laid down the conditions under which the consortium of fund-raisers would help to support the hospital and convalescent home. He had explained to Richard and Ron Simmons that his son had not settled at university, because he felt it full of children. ‘All he wants is to return to Easterleigh Hall to do something to help, so that is the first of our conditions, well, mine, as I am the chief, and most willing, contributor: that he is allowed. The other conditions are of an economic nature, and basically we insist that any extraneous expenditure is discussed with the fund-raising committee before being implemented.'

Evie called over the heads of the laundry girls, ‘Wonderful to have you back, Harry. How have the bees travelled, do you think?'

Annie was slipping round to the rear of the lorry. Raisin and Currant had found their way there, and were yapping. One of the volunteers carried them back to the kitchen. ‘Lock them in, will you, Lily,' Evie called. ‘Can't have them upsetting new visitors.' She and Mrs Moore waved to Harry.

The tailgate was pulled down by Arthur, the elderly driver, who worked as a gamekeeper on Sir Anthony Travers' estate south of Washington pit village. Harry joined Evie and Mrs Moore after weaving his way between the laundry girls. His hair had been tousled by old Mrs Webber. He slapped his gloves against his good leg, and straightened his hair. ‘They should be all right, we've taken it steady, haven't we Arthur? Arthur's going to help me erect the hives if we can have a few helpers to get all this to the meadows. The honey will taste much better if the bees can gather pollen from flowers, rather than down near the ha-ha, which Richard thought might be the best place.'

Mrs Moore smiled as he clasped her in a bear hug. ‘Right glad to have you back, we so need the honey, bonny lad. The food shortages are mounting . . .' She patted him and he moved on to Evie, holding her tightly, replying to Mrs Moore over her head.

He nodded. ‘Yes, I passed the queue outside the co-op, and nowhere else is any better. Why the hell the government don't take control I don't know. They could use the Defence of the Realm Act to set up ration rules, surely?'

‘When you're ready, Harry,' Arthur called, climbing up into the lorry and shoving one of the bee carry-boxes towards the tailgate. Harry released Evie, landing a smacking kiss on her cheek. ‘So damned glad the lads are with Aub. Excellent, excellent. Just need the bloody government to sort out the food . . .'

Evie waved him to silence. He laughed, as he said, 'Sick of hearing it are you, Evie?'

‘You could say that, our Harry.'

Harry smiled as he grabbed Evie's hand and they hurried through the girls to the lorry. He took one end of the box, and, helped by Evie, lowered it to the ground. She could hear a humming, and a slight vibration. Harry touched her arm. ‘It's quite safe, and I checked that we've a queen in each. They've weathered the winter well and will be eager to feed. I didn't need to give them sucrose, which is marvellous. Let's get 'em set up and settled, and within days they'll make a rush for the meadow flowers, you mark my words. I've brought three cases of honey too. And Mother is packing up more from the hives at Searton. You said you were looking for an alternative sweetener?'

Evie touched his sleeve. It was strange to see him in mufti. He looked even younger. ‘You are an angel, Harry. Yes, sugar is short, everything is, and we should be able to supply as much as we can ourselves, surely to God, with Easterleigh land, and Home Farm. Those poor beggars ploughing across the Atlantic and heaven knows what oceans in supply ships are going to get picked on more and more by the submarines, and what's available should go to those without means. Or so our Richard says. Bangs the table he does.' Harry roared with laughter.

Evie continued as Arthur shoved another box along to the end of the lorry. ‘We've more volunteers coming every day from the villages, and we have German POW patients who are recovering and want to help.' She and Harry shared the load again, and settled the box gently on the ground. Mrs Moore tapped his shoulder as he straightened up. ‘Oh Harry, pet, you'll be billeted in the under-gardeners' cottage, or what used to be theirs, and Evie's right, the Germans are champing at the bit to do something. We've got some of our facial injuries too, who are being eased out into the sunshine by Lady Margaret to try and build self-confidence.' As she said this, the sun went behind a cloud, and the wind seemed to freshen.

Annie was helping Harry lower another box to the ground. ‘Millie's nipped off to fetch the prisoners out. Matron's given them permission to escape for a moment to help with the bees. It's her they're afraid of, not the guards.'

Mrs Moore laughed as she chivvied the laundry girls back to their pegging out. ‘Not surprised, the two old boys guarding them must be sixty if they're a day, and still in the reserve for heaven's sake. Imagine if they were in the front line. Now I don't want to hear a word out of you girls about that silly old duffer who thinks he's God's gift to cooks, and brings flowers every day. Pinches them from the nursery bed, he does, young Harry. Now, Evie, let's get back to the coalface. Annie, go and hurry Millie up, she'll as like as not be dawdling along with that young Heine she's taken a shine to. No need to speak German it seems, sign language is doing the job just grand, it is for too many of them, including young Maudie.' Mrs Moore stalked off, and stopped at the top of the step. ‘They're the enemy, after all.'

Evie hurried after her, waving to Harry, calling, ‘They're also young men who've been hurt, you old witch.'

‘Enough of your cheek.' Mrs Moore's words ended on a roaring laugh. In the kitchen they checked that the mixed-grain bread was rising nicely. It was Home Farm barley and wheat, though their own winter-sown grain was doing well and the harvest should be good in the fields around the church, arboretum, and all land in between. The land south of the cedar tree and beyond the ha-ha had been planted with potatoes and the early crop could be lifted any day now, and many more rows earthed up in land behind the stables. Spinach was sown in fields along the lane to Easton, plus spring greens. Old Stan and some of the prisoners had just started tomatoes in the glasshouses, and a whole swathe in the conservatory below the grapevine.