Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(83)

‘How?’ asked Harry.

‘He has a photograph of you on his desk,’ she said. ‘Follow me. Captain Tarrant will be delighted to see you.’

Old Jack’s face lit up when the two boys – he should stop thinking of them as boys, they were now young men – walked into his office. ‘It’s good to see you both,’ he said, jumping up from behind his desk to greet them. ‘So who are you running away from this time?’ he added with a smile.

‘My father,’ said Giles quietly.

Old Jack crossed the room, closed the door and sat the two young men down on an uncomfortable sofa. He drew up a chair and listened carefully as they told him everything that had happened since they’d seen him at the play the previous evening.

‘I saw your father leave the theatre, of course,’ said Old Jack, ‘but it would never have crossed my mind he could treat your mother and sister quite so appallingly.’

‘Do you have any idea where they might be, sir?’ asked Giles.

‘No. But if I had to guess, I’d say they were staying with your grandfather.’

‘No, sir, I spent the morning with Grandpa, and even he doesn’t know where they are.’

‘I didn’t say which grandfather,’ said Jack.

‘Lord Harvey?’ said Harry.

‘That would be my bet,’ said Jack. ‘They’d feel safe with him, and confident that Barrington would think twice before going after them.’

‘But Grandpa has at least three homes that I’m aware of,’ said Giles. ‘So I wouldn’t know where to begin looking.’

‘How stupid of me,’ said Harry. ‘I know exactly where he is.’

‘You do?’ said Giles. ‘Where?’

‘At his country estate in Scotland.’

‘You sound very certain,’ said Jack.

‘Only because last week he dropped Emma a line to explain why he wouldn’t be able to attend the school play. It seems he always spends December and January in Scotland. But I’m damned if I can remember the address.’

‘Mulgelrie Castle, near Mulgelrie, Highlands,’ said Giles.

‘Most impressive,’ said Jack.

‘Not really, sir. It’s just years of Mama making me write thank-you letters to all my relations on Boxing Day. But as I’ve never been to Scotland, I haven’t got a clue where it is.’

Old Jack got up and removed a large atlas from the bookshelf behind his desk. He looked up Mulgelrie in the index, flicked over several pages and then laid it on the desk in front of him. Running a finger from London to Scotland, he said, ‘You’ll have to take the overnight sleeper to Edinburgh, and then change to a local train for Mulgelrie.’

‘I don’t think we’ve got enough money left for that,’ said Harry, checking his wallet.

‘Then I’ll have to issue you both with rail warrants, won’t I?’ said Jack. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a large buff-coloured pad and tore off two forms. He filled them in, signed and stamped them. ‘After all,’ he added, ‘you are clearly stateless refugees in search of a home.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Giles.

‘One last word of advice,’ said Old Jack as he rose from behind his desk. ‘Hugo Barrington is not a man who likes to be crossed, and while I’m fairly confident he won’t do anything to annoy Lord Harvey, that doesn’t necessarily apply to you, Harry. So be on your guard until you’re safely inside Mulgelrie Castle. Should you at any time come across a man with a limp,’ he added, ‘be wary of him. He works for Giles’s father. He’s clever and resourceful, but more important, he has no allegiance to anyone except his paymaster.’





39


Giles and Harry were directed to another third-class carriage, but they were both so tired that despite the frequent opening and closing of carriage doors during the night, the clattering of the wheels over points and the regular blast of the train’s whistle, they slept soundly.

Giles woke with a start as the train pulled into Newcastle a few minutes before six. He looked out of the window to be greeted by a dull grey day and the sight of lines of soldiers waiting to board the train. A sergeant saluted a second lieutenant who didn’t look much older than Giles and asked, ‘Permission to board the train, sir?’ The young man returned his salute and replied in a softer voice, ‘Carry on, sergeant,’ and the soldiers began to file on to the train.

The ever-present threat of war, and the question of whether he and Harry would be in uniform before they had the chance to go up to Oxford, was never far from Giles’s mind. His uncle Nicholas, whom he’d never met, an officer just like the young man on the platform, had led a platoon of soldiers and been cut down at Ypres. Giles wondered what would be the names of the battlefields that would be commemorated with poppies every year if there was to be another Great War to end all wars.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a passing reflection in the carriage window. He swung round, but the figure was no longer there. Had Captain Tarrant’s warning caused him to overreact, or was it just a coincidence?

Giles looked across at Harry, who was still sound asleep, but then he probably hadn’t slept for the past two nights. As the train shunted into Berwick-on-Tweed, Giles noticed the same man walking past their compartment. Just a glance, and he was gone; no longer a coincidence. Was he checking to see which station they got off at?