To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(91)

“Just two?” said Billy.

Maisie nodded. “Oh, but they’re big. One is that I am a widow, though I am a woman of independent means, and of course I have a title bestowed upon me by marriage that has smoothed the way a little.” She shook her head. “But to tell you the truth, that infuriates me too. I was brought up by people who, when all is said and done, did their very best for me. No matter what privations we faced as a family, I was loved. That’s all that really matters. Anyway, my references are excellent and my house passes muster with the Ministry of Health.”

“So, one thing is that you’re a widow—a woman with no husband.”

Maisie nodded, wiping away a tear.

“And what’s the other thing?”

There was a moment’s silence before Maisie could speak.

“My work.”

“Oh,” said Billy, nodding his understanding. “Yes, I’m beginning to get the picture.”

“So you see, I have to ‘box clever’ as the saying goes. I cannot be identified as being at the closure of a case, for example. You know how the press have reported it in the past—that I have been involved in an investigation. That’s why I could only go so far with Vivian and Archie, why I could not go to challenge Jimmy Robertson. I’m worried enough at how reports of Sally Coombes’ suicide might look in tomorrow’s papers.”

“What don’t they like about it—your job? You’re doing something decent and good, not like some people—and it’s to do with justice, after all, and helping put wrong things right.”

“First of all, it’s the danger inherent in the work—and we know it carries a risk, even though we are careful enough. And then there’s the fact that I am likely to come into contact with a criminal element of society.”

“But if it’s dangerous, what do they think of you joining the Auxiliary Ambulance Service, as a volunteer? That’s blimmin’ dangerous too! Or haven’t you told them?”

“I’ve declared my involvement in volunteer work with the ambulance service—but that’s seen as me doing my bit, as a citizen, and we’ve all been called upon to do our voluntary service, haven’t we? And they don’t see that as dangerous at the present time. They don’t even mind the fact that I spend several days per week in London, though that may have to change.”

“These people make me ill—can’t see to the ends of their noses. And what about little Anna, bless her?”

“She’s very happy. She adores Dad and Brenda, and even Lady Rowan and Lord Julian have started treating her as if she were the grandchild they always wanted.”

“Can’t they speak up for you?”

“They provided my first references.”

“And I suppose there’s a pen-pusher somewhere who doesn’t want to feel pushed around by the upper classes.”

“Something of that order.”

“Blimey.” Billy finished his tea and placed his mug on the tray. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to keep my nose clean, so to speak. I can continue my work, though I will have to be careful, not do anything to draw attention to myself. I have never liked it on those occasions when my name has appeared either as a special witness in published court proceedings or the newspapers—I’ve tried to remain as anonymous as possible. But I admit, in terms of securing new business, it’s useful. Anyway, a hearing has been set for September. I’ll have to go before a panel, which includes a special judge, to state my case for becoming Anna’s adoptive parent. I almost dare not hope—”

“Oh, miss, it’ll all come out in the wash—that’s what my old mum used to say. Just you wait and see.” Billy moved to Maisie’s side and put an arm around her, pulling her to him as she wept. “You have a good old cry. It’ll do you good, what with everything that’s gone on lately, and seeing Sally Coombes top herself today. Let your tears fall, and then come out fighting. It’ll be all right.”

“Oh, I hope so, Billy. I do hope so. I don’t want to lose her.”

“I know, miss. I know.”

“I love Anna, Billy. I love her as if she were my own.”

“But she is—she is yours. Anyone who sees you two together knows that—she belongs with you. If your Dr. Blanche were here, I reckon he would say she’s always belonged to you.”



Maisie slumped down onto one of the wicker lawn chairs without even entering her garden flat in Holland Park. There were telephone calls to be made, for her day’s work was not yet done, and she was anxious to find out if Tim was improving. Every time she thought of her beloved godson, she felt her breath catch. She wondered how he might be feeling, now that the enormity of his undertaking—and the loss of his best friend—was in all likelihood beginning to come into focus. She allowed herself another five minutes outside, before opening the French doors wide for the fresh evening air to blow through. She removed her jacket and hat, and placed her document case and shoulder bag on top of the desk in the corner. Once again she had left the office without her gas mask.

She was just about to sink into the armchair when the telephone began to ring. She lifted the receiver.

“Tante Maisie! Thank goodness! Where is everyone? I can’t find my parents or my brothers—have they all trotted off on holiday?”