Polly's War (47 page)

As the man turned to leave, still smiling and longing to know the full details which his observations, no matter how painstaking, had failed to fully ascertain, he saw another figure emerge from a nearby alley. Tom Shackleton. The last piece of the jigsaw. He’d know him anywhere. And with him were Sarah Jane and Sean. More worryingly, both the children looked bewildered and Sean as if he’d been crying. As Tom hustled them towards the canal basin and across the foot bridge, the man slipped quietly out after them.

It was while Lucy was sitting in Minnie’s front parlour, wondering why Charlie hadn’t appeared with the children, that the door knocker rattled. This couldn’t be them. They’d charge straight in. Who could it be? Not Lily Gantry with more bad news, she hoped. She really wasn’t up to that old troublemaker, not today with all this business over Hubert going on.

Polly had sent the letter days ago, since when she and Benny had lurked beneath the railway arches, keeping a watch on Potato Wharf in case the inspectors came. Lucy felt sick with nerves. Hubert Clarke, as Minnie so frequently reminded them, wasn’t an easy man to cross. But as she went down the lobby, Lucy glimpsed a uniform through the glass of the vestibule door. She opened it to find not one, but two very official soldiers in full dress uniform. They looked exceedingly smart with their brass buttons, chevrons glowing white, and red caps on their heads.

On seeing her they both saluted, then one stepped forward and handed her a paper. It identified them as Military Police. Lucy had already guessed as much.

‘Would you know the whereabouts of one Private Tom Shackleton? We understand he used to live in this street, ma’am, and, according to our information, has unexpectedly returned home. We very much wish to question him. Looks as though he’s been AWOL.’

‘AWOL?’

‘Absent without leave, ma’am. He’s a deserter.’ The man’s voice was unemotional, official.

Somehow Lucy managed to step back from the door. ‘There must be some mistake. I think you’d best come in.’

As they followed her into the small front parlour Lucy found she was shaking. She would like to have sat down but it didn’t seem quite the thing to do, so she stood facing them, feeling confused and helpless, while the two MPs proceeded to explain how they’d been given information that Tom had been hiding in Spain for some years.

‘Spain? Don’t you mean Italy? He was in Germany for a long time, as a prisoner of war,’ she corrected, though not with any real conviction in her voice.

‘Sorry to contradict, ma’am, but according to our source, he left Italy long before the war ended.’ They went on to question her, asking for details of where Tom might be hiding now.

Before she had time to gather her wits the door burst open and Charlie came hobbling along the passage. Lucy could guess by his expression what had happened, even before he got a word out. He was beside himself with worry and by the time he’d told his tale about the missing children there wasn’t a breath of colour in Lucy’s ashen face. ‘I must go to him. Get them back.’ She was half way to the door when one of the MPs stopped her.

‘If he’s got his back to the wall, he could prove dangerous.‘

‘They’re my kids. And Tom is my husband.’

‘And our prisoner. I wouldn’t be too sure about that. According to our information, he married a young woman out there, a Spanish senorita.’

Lucy felt as if her whole face had grown stiff with shock, ‘Married? How can he have married? He already is married, to me?’ She felt bewildered, unable to take in what was happening.

The MPs dropped their official stance and for the first time looked shamefaced, apologising for bringing her such bad news. ‘We have to take him in for questioning, love. Sorry.’

Lucy drew in a deep, steadying breath, realising they were only trying to do their job. ‘He won’t hurt the children, or me, if I go to him. Maybe I can persuade him to give himself up. Let me try. It’ll surely make it better for you, and him too.’

The MPs conferred but finally agreed to let her try on the grounds that it would indeed go better for him at the Court Martial if he surrendered of his own free will.

‘Thank you.’

‘But we’ll be outside. Watching,’ they said. ‘Give us a shout and we’ll be there in a jiffy.’

Lucy saw Sean first. He was sitting on a chair by the fire sucking his thumb. She could see no sign of Tom. When the little boy spotted her through the back window he had the sense not to jump from his seat, simply removed the thumb and grinned at her, then nudged Sarah Jane with his foot. Lucy saw that her daughter was curled up on the rug and her heart leapt to her throat. Had she been hurt? Why was she lying down like that? But Sarah Jane sat up and stretched, rubbing her eyes, making it clear she’d only been asleep. Lucy put her finger to her lips to urge them both to keep quiet as she let herself in through the back door. Within seconds her children were in her arms and she was asking if they were all right.

‘Didn’t I tell you Mam would be home soon?’ Sean said, not understanding.

Sarah Jane seemed more aware of what was really happening. She half glanced over her shoulder, then grasping her mother’s arm thrust her towards the back door. ‘Let’s go to Aunty Minnie’s. Quick, before ...’

‘Before what, Sarah Jane? You weren’t thinking of going anywhere without me, were you?’ The voice from the door stopped them all in their tracks. Lucy spun about to face Tom and gasped when she saw him. In his hand was a gun, the German Luger she’d once caught a glimpse of in his drawer and dismissed as a product of her vivid imagination. Now here she was, looking down the barrel of it. Time seemed to slow, to stretch endlessly as a sense of utter disbelief swamped her. This surely couldn’t be happening.

‘Tom? What are you doing? Her voice sounded calmer than she felt. ‘Why don’t you put that thing down. You wouldn’t want to hurt Sean or Sarah Jane, now would you?’

‘I’m aiming it at you, Lucy, not the children. Can’t you tell?’

She moved her lips, stiff with fear, into what must be a parody of a smile. ‘Yes, of course I do. I’m aware that I’ve hurt you, Tom.’

‘You have indeed hurt me. You’re the guilty party. Not these innocent children. Isn’t that right?’ When she didn’t immediately answer, he repeated the question, only louder. ‘
Isn’t that right
?’ It made them all jump and Sean to realise that all was not well, and start to cry
.

‘Hush, sweetheart. It’s all right. Yes, if you say so, Tom. But let me send the children out, so we can talk this thing th...’ She got no further as he suddenly yelled at her to be quiet.

‘
Don’t tell me what to do
! I’m in charge here. I’m the one with the blasted weapon. Can’t you see it?’ He was shaking the gun now, waving it about in front of her face. Sean stared at it wide-eyed with horror.

‘Don’t you hurt my mam,’ the little boy bravely shouted, and Lucy hushed him again, anxious he didn’t irritate Tom into some reckless act. This was the last thing she’d expected. Yet Lucy realised that she should have been alert to the possibility. She’d underestimated Tom for too long. She should have protected her children better.
 

‘Let Sean go. He’s just a baby. Let him go. Sarah Jane too.’

‘And have them fetch help? Do you think I’m stupid? Once you have the children back, you’ll run off with that fancy man of yours. I know what you’re up to Lucy. I’ve seen all the toing and froing. I’ve been watching you all for some time. And I’ve seen him hanging about by the wharf.’

‘Who? Michael?’ Hope leapt in her but he only laughed.

‘That got you going, eh?’ It quickly died again as Lucy tried desperately to make her brain work, to think, to plan, to decide what she ought to do. Should she tell him about the MPs waiting outside for her signal? If she shouted could they break in before he fired the gun? Or should she keep on talking and smiling and hoping for the best. While she was still striving to make up her mind, Tom stretched out his hand and flicking a finger said, ‘Come here son. Come and stand by me.’ Before she could make a move to stop him, Sean had done as he was told, apparently mesmerised by the chill command in his father’s voice. Tom grasped the boy and held him close to his side, oblivious to his noisy crying. Dear lord, why didn’t someone help her? Could they hear his cries outside?

Tom was beckoning to Sarah Jane, ordering her to come to him too, before he lost his temper good and proper.

Swallowing her fear Lucy grasped hold of Sarah Jane and pushed her behind her own back. ‘No, you’re not having her.’ Lifting her chin she braved the furious anger that twisted Tom’s face into something utterly unrecognisable. ‘Listen to me, Tom. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Oh, but you will. Everyone leaves me. Francesca left me for her old lover, just as you’re doing.’

Lucy froze. So that was her name. This didn’t seem the moment to accuse him of bigamy. ‘It’s not true, Tom. I haven’t seen Michael in - oh, I don’t know - ages. Not since before the fire in fact.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ he snapped. ‘You
lie, lie, lie
all the time, just to serve your own evil purpose.’

This seemed rich, coming from the smoothest liar of all, but Lucy had the good sense not to say so. ‘Don’t shout, Tom, please. You’re frightening the children. Anyroad, it’ll do no good,’ she gently urged him, using her most cajoling tones. She let go of Sarah Jane’s hand. Pushed her further away. Took a step closer to Tom. ‘It’s all over. Give me the gun before you hurt our lovely kids. You know you’d be heartbroken if you did anything to harm them.’

‘It’s
you
I mean to harm.’

‘No, I don’t think so, Tom. You’ve had a bad war, I accept that. Now it’s all over. They’ve come for you. The MPs, I mean. It’ll be much easier if you give yourself up. Don’t make it any worse for yourself.’ She held her breath, wondering if she’d done the right thing to warn him as he stared at her in silence. Lucy could have sworn there were tears as well as panic in his eyes, and a curl of hope rose in her breast, swiftly quenched by his next words.

‘The fighting at Salerno was a mess,’ he told her, his voice scathing, filled with a brash arrogance as if entirely unconcerned by the fact that the truth of his inauspicious war career had at last been revealed. ‘A combination of mud and military bungling. I wasn’t hanging around just to get shot or die of disease. I escaped through Greece, across North Africa and have been living all nice and cosy in Spain ever since. Then Francesca left me, stupid bitch. Went back to Diego. Not that I really cared, you understand. I was getting bored with her in any case.’ He spoke with his famous bravado. ‘I decided to come home to you, Lucy, that you were worth the risk of returning.’

‘You mean you couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,’ Lucy responded, the first hint of bitterness in her tone. Tom was quick to respond.

‘No, it’s true. I did miss you. But I only intended hanging around long enough to persuade you to come somewhere fresh, to a new life. America or Australia. Except you were hooked up with this Hopkins chap.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said, though she wasn’t at all.

‘Now I suppose bloody Benny’s grassed on me.’

‘Benny? What does he know about any of this?’

‘Only that he guessed I’d deserted. But he promised to keep his bleedin’ mouth shut.’

Lucy decided to pursue this matter later with her brother, and again held out her hand. ‘Please, Tom. It’s over now. Give me the gun.’ It was almost there, almost within her grasp when there was a loud crack. Then every door seemed to burst open at once and the room was suddenly filled with people, Benny and Michael coming from one direction at the back and the MPs from the front. It was several moments of utter pandemonium before she realised that the gun had been fired.

A pair of handcuffs were being slipped on to her unprotesting husband’s wrists. Words were spoken, informing him of his rights and where he would be taken. Tom was shouting at Benny. ‘I’ll get you for this, for shooting your bleedin’ mouth off.’

‘You’re wrong,’ the MP calmly informed him. ‘It wasn’t your brother-in-law. It was someone else. They told us you’d set fire to a warehouse, thereby adding arson to the charges. We’ll be investigating the matter fully, of course.’ The two MPs were obviously enjoying themselves.

Tom paled and, switching his attack, said, ‘Bloody Hubert Clarke. After all I’ve done for him. I’ll kill him.’

‘I don’t think so, Private. You’ll be tucked away somewhere very safe for quite a long while.’

It was only when Tom was safely shackled that an ashen-faced Benny asked if anyone was going to spare a thought for him. The bullet had nicked his shoulder. One of the MPs gave it little more than a cursory glance but assured him he’d live. When Benny groaned in pain, the military policeman laughed and began to strap it up with a scarf, packing it with a tea towel Lucy brought, and promised to drop him off at the local hospital on their way back to base.

‘So if it wasn’t Benny, who was it?’ Tom yelled, glaring at Lucy.

‘Actually I was the one who shopped you,’ Michael said and smiled with satisfaction as Tom made a lurch towards him, quickly stifled by the two MPs. ‘Benny and I met up some weeks ago and he told me about your lies. Then when he confirmed that Ron was innocent of arson, we guessed you were responsible for that too. I thought it about time you settled the debt you owe to society, and to Lucy. As soon as I was sure Hubert Clarke was in the bag, I brought in the military.’