The Runaways (10 page)

Outside the snow stopped and the sky began to clear. Yarra went to bed, on the hard board, twisting and scraping restlessly until she was settled. The river ran by, murmuring quietly to itself. A water vole made a plop as it dropped into the stream and began a night forage down the bankside. A barn owl sailed low on silent wings over the water meadow, quartering the grass and reed tufts for mouse or shrew movement. A fox coming up the river, flicking his pads fastidiously against the thawing snow, caught Yarra's scent from the hut. He decided to have nothing to do with whatever made it, and trotted a wide half circle away from the hut to the river path above it. In an old wren's nest in the roof of the hut a sleepy dormouse burrowed its snout into its fur for warmth and gave a sharp
bleeb.
In her light sleep Yarra heard the noise and flicked one stubby ear momentarily. Beyond the river and the railway, cars moved along the Warminster–Heytesbury road, their headlamps washing cottages, hedges and trees with gold light.

The low depression system which had brought the snow up from the west against a strong east wind now moved away east itself. The high pressure area that followed it swung the wind gently into the west and the temperature rose. The snow melted fast and in a couple of hours was gone from all but the sheltered dips and north slopes of the high ground.

At three o'clock in the morning Yarra, stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping on the board seat, woke and left the hut. She went down river and over the railway line. On the southern outskirts of Heytesbury she struck a side road into the village. The night was still, and deserted of all humans. She crossed the river by the road bridge and padded into the village. Her scent roused two dogs in near-by yards to a frenzy of barking. She came out on to the main road at the side of the Angel Inn. She paused for a moment, looked about her, and then crossed the main road and went north up another side road. A few yards up the road on the left-hand side was a large red notice board with a white-painted inscription which read:

IMBER ARMY RANGE
ROAD CLOSED 1 MILE AHEAD

Yarra padded up the tree-bordered road leisurely. The road steepened, mounting the higher contours of a narrow combe running up to the far-stretching plateau of the easterly part of Salisbury Plain. As Yarra passed the drive entrance to Danebury House the Jack Russell terrier saw her. The terrier slept on a rug in the window bay of his mistress's bedroom where the curtains were always drawn back at night. The movement of Yarra on the road caught the alert eye of the unsleeping terrier. He jumped up, body and tail quivering with aggression, and began to bark his head off. From her bed, half in sleep, Mrs Angela Lakey reached over to the floor – where she kept a small pile of hassock-like cushions for the purpose – and hurled one at the terrier, hitting him amidships as she muttered, ‘Go to sleep, you old fool!'

Above the house the road cleared the tree line. Where it ran on to the first of the open downland and the wide sweeps of the plain which the Army used for artillery, tank and infantry training, there was a small hut at the side of the road. The road itself was barred with a red-and-white painted drop-post. The hut was not manned at night. Yarra went under the drop-post, and then left the road for the easier going of the rough, wild grassland. She went across country for half a mile, veering away from the road. Ten minutes later, on the side of one of the downland slopes she came across an old, rusted Sherman tank which was used as a target for practice shoots. The turret had been blown askew. The tracks lay collapsed and wrecked on the ground, and there was a large gap in the side of the empty hull. Yarra walked around it, sniffed at the cold metal work, and then looked through into the hull. Somebody had long ago dumped a load of cut bracken inside and covered it with a couple of sacks to make a resting place. To one side of the rough couch were some empty beer bottles and a litter of old cigarette packets and newspapers.

Yarra jumped inside, sniffed around the small interior, and then began to tread the sacks and bracken to make a bed for herself. When she was satisfied she flopped down and stretched out her forelegs, easing her muscles. In a few minutes she was sleeping.

Above her on the inside plates of the tank someone had written in white chalk –
Bombardier Andy Goran, only 5 yrs and 13 days to serve.
Under that, in another hand, was –
Please leave this hotel as you would wish to find it.

The alarm bell brought Smiler out of bed with a jerk. Outside it was still dark. He had a quick wash in the kitchen, ate some of the biscuits he had left, and then tidied everything up in case Mrs Bagnall made a surprise visit.

When he went out it was to find that the snow had all gone and there was a fresh wind blowing. Seeing the bulk of the barn against the sky, he tiptoed over to it. He didn't want to leave the door open all day, but he wasn't overlooking the fact that Yarra might have come back at some time during the night. He crept down the side of the barn. When he came to the door he reached quickly for the handle and pulled it shut with a slam, dropping the catch. He stood outside listening. If Yarra were in there, the noise would have wakened her and he would hear her movements. No sound came from inside the barn.

A few moments later Smiler was pushing his bicycle up the hill away from Ford Cottage. At the top of the hill he began to ride and soon passed the spot where Yarra had crossed the road with her hare. But Smiler was not thinking about Yarra. He was giving himself a talking-to for not having thought of buying a bicycle lamp in Warminster. Although it was light enough for him to ride without danger, it was still officially dark enough for him to be showing a light. The last thing he wanted was to be stopped by some patrolling local policeman and have to answer awkward questions.

Warm and snug in his pullover and anorak, he turned left at the crossroads in Sutton Veny. He had a good memory for maps, a ‘bump of locality' as Sister Ethel's Albert used to say. Thinking of Sister Ethel and her Albert, Smiler decided that some time soon he would have to get a message to them that he was all right. He didn't want them going about thinking that maybe he was dead, or anything like that, and then writing off to his Dad and putting the wind up him. The problem of how he could send a message, without giving himself away, occupied him as he rode.

Some time later, the light in the easterly sky brightening fast now, he passed over the Wylye river bridge at the point where Yarra had crossed the road on her way downstream. To his left he could hear the sound of the little waterfall. From the river bridge it was not far to the main road that led to Heytesbury.

Smiler arrived at Danebury House at twenty minutes past seven. He was met at the drive gate by the Jack Russell whose name, he later learned, was Tonks when he was not in disgrace, and Mister Tonks when he was, which was pretty often. Tonks gave him a yapping welcome and then trotted up the drive alongside him.

Smiler was met at the back door by Mrs Angela Lakey. She was dressed as he had seen her the day before, except that she now wore gum boots and a red beret.

She greeted him heartily, smacking him on the back, and said, ‘Morning, Boy. Punctual. That's what I like to see. Begin as you mean to go on.' The whole time he was to be at Danebury House she never called him anything else but ‘Boy'.

She gave him a cup of hot coffee in the kitchen, and instructed him in his duties. She then took him outside and ‘showed him the ropes' as she called it.

At Danebury House, Mrs Lakey – and her sister, Miss Milly Finn – ran breeding kennels for English and Gordon setters. They also had boarding kennels where people going on holiday, or Army folk going off on tour of duty abroad, could leave their dogs. There was a small section, too, which held room for about eight cats. Mrs Lakey would have nothing to do with these. She didn't rate cats very high in the animal creation. But Miss Milly did and they were her responsibility, though Smiler had to look after them most of the time. Miss Milly ran the house, did the cooking, and kept the books without any outside help.

In addition to these animals, there were also two hunters in a stable near the beech copse. These Mrs Lakey hired out to people who wanted to ride or hunt – but she took very good care that they were the kind of people who understood and could handle horses. There was a chestnut mare, Penny, and a bay gelding called – for some reason Smiler never discovered – Bacon. Bacon, he soon found, liked to give you a quick nip if you didn't watch him. Penny was very even-tempered except that now and then she would see things under her nose that no one else could see – invisible fairies or dwarfs or snakes. Then, she would leap sideways or pirouette like a ballet dancer on her hind legs – and off you would come unless you were wise to her weakness. Over the stable loft there was a pigeon cote full of white fantail doves. In a run at the bottom of the vegetable garden lived twelve white Leghorn hens – known as the Apostles. At the back of the kennel runs was a storehouse where all the hound meal and dog-and-cat meat was kept and cooked in a big boiler.

Although Smiler had nothing to do with the horses to begin with, he had plenty on his hands. It was, he soon learned, his job to cut up and cook the dog meat, weigh up the hound meal, feed all the dogs and cats and keep their water bowls full. He had to clean out the kennels twice a week and lay new bedding, feed and water the hens and collect the eggs, and exercise the setters in the five-acre paddock beyond the beech copse. He had to groom and brush all dogs twice a week, fetch in the logs for the house from the wood stack, wash down the horse-box, and dig the vegetable garden when he had any spare time. Also it was his duty to keep an eye on Tonks who was at perpetual war with the fantails and the Twelve Apostles.

On the first morning, as Mrs Lakey rattled off all this to him and ‘showed him the ropes', his head spun and he felt that he would never be able to manage. After a few days, however, he was managing easily, though – since he hated digging – he made sure that he didn't often have spare time for that. His free ‘working overalls' turned out to be ex-Army stock, green, and covered all over with brown, yellow and black camouflage markings.

Overwhelmed a bit by all this on the first day, the most cheering thing for Smiler was Miss Milly, who was younger than Mrs Lakey. She was short and plump, fair-haired and fresh-faced, and jolly and kind. Her kitchen was spotless and smelled always of baking and cooking. She never called him ‘Boy'. Right from the first it was ‘ Johnny' which was a bit awkward, now and then, when she called him because he forgot that he was Johnny and didn't answer.

Smiler's first free lunch was a revelation that banished from his mind any culinary prowess that his Sister Ethel could show.

When he was called for lunch. Miss Milly said, ‘Gum boots outside the door, overalls off, face and hands washed, and then to table, Johnny.' She talked a bit like Mrs Lakey but there was always laughter and kindness in her voice.

Johnny ate in the kitchen by himself. After he was served lunch, the two sisters would have theirs together in the diningroom. That first day he was served steak-and-kidney pie, Brussels sprouts, and butter-creamed mashed potatoes. He had a glass of milk to drink with it and fresh-baked bread. For ‘afters' he had a great slab of treacle tart with custard and could have finished up with Cheddar cheese and homemade bread if he had had room for it. Later, when he really got into his working stride, he never missed the cheese and bread.

That first day there was only one personally awkward moment for Smiler.

At the end of the day he came into the scullery next to the kitchen where he had been instructed to hang his working overalls each night. Miss Milly was there, polishing a pair of tall, black riding boots belonging to Mrs Lakey.

‘How long does it take you to get home, Johnny?' asked Miss Milly.

‘Oh, not long, Miss Milly.' He had been instructed to call her that.

Miss Milly nodded and then stared thoughtfully at the sheen she had worked on one of the boots and said, ‘I know Crockerton well. Hillside Bungalow? Can't recall that, Johnny. Where is it?'

Smiler hadn't the faintest idea where it was because he had just made up the name without giving it a location. But he gathered his wits and said, ‘ Well… it's sort of… Well, you know, not in the village and not exactly outside of it.'

Miss Milly grinned. ‘That's a good description for finding a place on a dark night. New, is it? One of the new bungalows?'

Smiler wasn't going to be pinned down, so he said, ‘ Well… it's not really new. Nor old either. It's sort of past the post office and then down a little sidepath towards the river.'

‘Near the old millhouse, you mean?'

‘That's right. Miss Milly.'

‘Well ride home carefully.'

From Mrs Lakey he got a different farewell for the day. As he wheeled his bicycle out of the yard, Mrs Lakey came round the corner on Penny which she had been exercising in the paddock. She pulled up, looked at her wrist-watch, and said, ‘Finished for the day, Boy?'

‘Yes, Ma'am … I mean, Mrs Lakey.'

‘Shut the hens up?'

‘Yes, Mrs Lakey.'

‘Good. Well, Boy, we'll make something of you. You move well. Should stay the course if your wind holds. Right, cut along, Boy. Get a good night's rest and come back fighting in the morning.'

She moved off on Penny and Smiler rode down the drive, accompanied by Tonks as far as the gate.

In Heytesbury he stopped at a garage and bought himself a bicycle lamp with the last of his hoard of fivepenny pieces. The garage assistant looked at the money, looked at Smiler, winked and said, ‘Been robbing the poor box, then?'

Yarra left her tank shelter not long after first light. Outside she stretched herself and then spent some minutes giving herself a good grooming. It was a clear, almost cloudless day with a brisk wind blowing across the plain from the south-west. A solitary lark, emboldened by the bright sun, climbed aloft and held a short song practice for the promised coming of Spring.