To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(53)

“Were there any other telephone calls, Sandra?”

“Just one. From Mr. Klein. Wants you to telephone him back ‘soonest,’” he said. “There’s a slight snag with the Ministry of Health that needs to be addressed. That’s all he said. Is it about—”

“Thank you,” Maisie interrupted. “I’ll telephone him now.” Maisie stood up, grabbed her bag and stepped into her office. “Excuse me, Sandra—just for a minute,” she added, as she closed the door separating her room from the outer office.

Maisie was put through to the solicitor with no delay.

“Slight problem, Maisie. Not a huge one, but . . . well, any snag at this point could become more serious if we don’t nip it in the bud.”





Chapter 11




Maisie was torn. Should she go to Hampshire again? Remain in London? Or should she follow her heart, which would be to drive down to Rye to see if Tim and his friend would return to the place where the vessel was usually moored. She looked at the clock and turned on the wireless in her office. Stepping toward the sliding doors again, she drew them back.

“I’m about to listen to the news on the wireless—come in if you want to, Sandra.”

British and French troops last night held Calais and Dunkirk. The French official communiqué stated that Boulogne had been taken by the Germans after fierce street fighting. German shock troops attacking on the outskirts of Boulogne were smashed by shells from British warships firing over the town. The battle for Calais is still south of the town. British soldiers fought magnificently with the French to repulse every enemy attack yesterday . . . and across the Atlantic, President Roosevelt told the USA to prepare for the “approaching storm.” Stressing the “futility, the impossibility” of the idea of isolation, he said, “Obviously a defense policy based on that is merely to invite future attack.”



The two women listened to the news for a few more minutes before Maisie switched off the set.

“It never occurred to me that it would be a good idea to have a wireless in the office,” said Sandra. “But since the war started and you brought it in, at least we can keep up with what’s going on. And it brings us all together, considering everyone across the country’s listening.”

“I sometimes wonder if the news is helpful to us,” said Maisie. “Or if it just makes us more anxious. If Tim and his friend are in the midst of this, it could be days before they come home. Gordon’s parents have asked the coastguard to look out for the boat, but according to Priscilla, Gordon’s father has joined the flotilla, and he hopes to find them along the way.”

They were jolted from speculation by the telephone. Sandra answered the call.

“Billy—Billy!” She looked at Maisie, who held out her hand. “You’re just leaving Mrs. Partridge’s house? All right, Billy, I’m passing you over to her now.”

“Billy,” said Maisie, grasping the receiver. “I’ve heard your good news! You must be beyond relieved—and what a miracle.”

“Miracle? I never believed in them, but now I do, miss—I thought I would go on my knees right there and then. Talk about a weight off my mind—it’s been like carrying around a hundred-weight of coal. But let me tell you, I reckon they need all the miracles they can get, our army over there. You should see the state of them—my boy isn’t my boy anymore, miss—he looks like his granddad. And he looks like the lads I was with in the war—that long stare, as if they’ve seen into the devil’s eyes. Put years on him, this has, but at least he’s on his feet—though he’s got a nasty shoulder wound. The important thing is that he’s back now, he’s over here and not over there. Miss, they say there’s thousands of our boys, waiting to be rescued—thousands of them. And according to Billy, Hitler’s blimmin’ Luftwaffe are strafing men while they wait and they’re bombing the ships what are coming in to save them. And down in Ramsgate—I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s more soldiers than I imagined disembarking, then there’s the people coming in to help. You know, when we heard about the evacuation of Dunkirk, I don’t think I had it in my head what it looked like, and what the soldiers and the navy are going through. Tell you the truth, I still don’t, not really—I can only get a picture of it from what I’ve been told. Our Billy said to me, ‘Dad, at least I’m home . . . I’m home.’ And now I keep thinking about the ones waiting to get away. All that waiting. And the hoping.”

“All right, Billy, you must go straight home to see Doreen. At least Mr. and Mrs. Partridge are safely back in Holland Park?”

“Had to all but drag Mrs. P., but the authorities don’t want civilians getting in the way down there unless they’ve got a job to do. And even she realized that she was doing more harm than good—but who can blame her? I’m glad Mr. P. was there. He’s like a solid rock, isn’t he? Stalwart, that’s what he is, and he takes care of her and keeps her from doing a mischief to herself—and they reckon this evacuation is going to take days and days.”

“Douglas knows what she’s been through. This is her most dreadful nightmare coming true—she knows the whereabouts of only one of her three sons, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t handcuffed him to his bed so he doesn’t move while she’s away.”