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Part 62 continued . . .
March 26th 1944 - A World Broadcast, W. Churchill
He is a rash man who tries to prophesy when, how, under under what conditions victory will come, but come it will. That at least is sure.
"That's our bulldog alright." Rory would have preferred to sleep, but Mallern had threatened to dislodge his brains with a gun if he did. Annette's comment that it was an incentive as opposed to a disincentive earned her a very dirty look from both men. "I told you nothing so simple as a crookie could get him."
"You also said that it was a pity." Annette eased her legs and glanced around the room. The place was packed and the radio only sort of audible though still loud enough to hurt the ears.
...We were still confident of victory, but we did not know that in less than two months the enemy would be driven with heavy slaughter from the African continent, leaving at one stroke 335,000 prisoners and dead in our hands.
Mallern was paying minimal attention to the radio and a lot of attention to the people around them as he sketched rapidly. Rory was dividing his attention between the radio and what people were saying. Annette was quite honest with herself, she was simply along for the ride for Rory was guaranteed to get in an argument, at the very least, with someone long before this speech was over.
We have been disappointed in the Aegean Sea and its many islands, which we have not yet succeeded in dominating, but these setbacks in the eastern Mediterranean are offset and more than offset by the panic and frenzy which prevail in Hungary, Rumania, and Bulgaria, by the continued activities of the Greek guerillas, and, above all, by the heroic struggles of the Partisans of Yugoslavia under the leadership of Marshal Tito.
"Annie!" Rory's tone was nothing short of a growl. "Why are there two parrots and a second dog under the table, along with Eoan and Diemos?"
"Is Diemos under there?" Annette abruptly twisted around and looked under the table.
"ANNIE!" It was an irate hiss as Rory dragged Annette back up to sit properly in her chair.
"I just wanted to see if he was there." Annette jerked her arm free and frowned.
"You are not six and this is a public venue."
"You're the one who's making a fuss and drawing attention to the fact that I might have done what some other people could consider to be inappropriate."
"I..." Rory suddenly stopped and turned to glare at Mallern.
"You..." Annette had heard what Rory had heard and she turned to glare at Mallern as well, he was counting down under his breath.
"Would you care to explain what you are counting?" Rory's tone was icy and Annette blinked in surprise.
"Errm." Mallern closed his mouth and studiously studied the dripping candle which was not helping the atmosphere at all.
"Mallern?"
"No." Mallern's response was a calm monosyllable and Rory frowned even more darkly. Annette's brows drew together for a moment and then she began to laugh.
"Oh, you think it funny do you?" Rory swung his scowl back to Annette.
"Yes." Annette choked violently as she endeavoured to swallow her laughter.
"Even Tom doesn't think it that funny and he was doing it."
"I know." Annette was using both hands to hold her laughter in and her ears had turned scarlet with the effort.
"I'm rather curious that she even seems to think she knows what I was doing." Mallern had laid pencil aside and was gazing at Annette rather curiously.
"Kitty." Annette downed half a glass of what was meant to be water, choked as she recognised it to be something else and spat it out. "Very good way to dispose of laughter." Annette picked up her actual glass and washed out her mouth carefully. "I have no idea what that was, but it was vile."
"Barak." Rory had taken a quick sniff from the glass. "Undoubtedly the landlord here has smuggling connections."
"Barak?" Annette's brow's rose.
"Or something like that, it's out of the Balkans and is some form of Apricot Brandy...I think."
"That fills me with confidence." Annette gave a sniff, a small giggle and then a sigh. "Kitty did it, Mac sometimes did it and..." Annette stopped and shrugged. "I'll leave it to him to explain why he was counting down a full-scale row in public...but Kitty did it to stop a row."
"I confess my guilt here and now, I was hoping to stop you from having a row over a couple of extra animals under the table."
"I wasn't starting a row, I just wanted to know why they were there."
"It may not have been your intention to start a row, but it was undoubtedly going to become a row." Mallern spoke bluntly. "You invariably row at these places and if Annie isn't spoiling for a row I haven't lived with the two of you for almost a year. I'm going now and the two of you are going home. Have your row and have it properly, make up, make out...whatever takes your fancy, I won't be back before breakfast."
"Wonderful." Rory was scowling at Mallern's departing back.
"What's wonderful?" Annette paused in extracting animals from under the table.
"Tom, he makes me feel two years old."
"But..." Annette stopped and firmly closed her mouth. Their departure was swift and discreet and the walk home did not take long.
"Night." Rory watched in perplexed silence as Annette tucked herself into her bed, he had a nasty feeling that he'd missed something rather important. Rory hesitated for a long moment and then elected not to retire for the night, he settled on the window sill and looked out across the darkness. It was two hours later when he stirred again.
"Annie?"
"Mm?" It was a sleepy noise, but definitely a conscious query.
"Who else did you know who counted fights?"
"Well...Ashie and James, though James only ever did it once that I'm aware of. Ashie did it a couple of times, but it usually meant he was very bored indeed with some beauracratic proceeding...and invariably he had chucked in the stirrers which actually caused the disagreement between parties."
"Why not say it earlier?"
"Seemed inadviseable...still seems inadviseable but I'm too nearly asleep to actually act on the inclination."
"Why inadviseable?"
"Rory...do you really want to fight now?"
"I never want to fight, I just want to understand."
"Well you won't so take my advice and drop it before we have a totally pointless row."
"I don't think I can." There had been a longish silence before Rory responded and an even longer silence followed, he rather suspected Annette had fallen asleep before he'd answered. Then there was a very tired sigh and a rustling of material. Rory squinted into the darkness and came to the conclusion that Annette had sat up and was now hugging her knees.
"James Darcy is a friend. A very good friend, but only a friend when it comes down to it. He lives a life I don't understand, he is motivated by things I have not the faintest comprehension of...and if you really want the brass tacks of the matter, what I feel doesn't matter a swat because body and soul that man belongs to someone else."
"But..."
"I've lost count of the times I've told you that man is just a friend and yet you always drag him up.
"I..." Rory stopped because what she had said was regretably true.
"I'm tired, Rory." Her tone was odd now, somehow cold and distant. "Tired of this war, tired of all the sickness and death I seem to wade through every day. I'm tired of the cheesy entertainments, of the yelling, speech making and placards. I'm tired of translating stupid documents written by even stupider idiots who seem to have no idea of what they're doing. I'm so tired now that I'm starting not to care and I find myself slowly, but inevitably drifting into a world which I was once told about, but had no real comprehension of. I've been picking fights with you for the past couple of months and I've been doing it because it is only in those fights that this...other world is pushed back. Then the fights became tiring and I began to drift even faster. I become an observer, watching the world as if through some translucent, but totally impenetrable barrier. I deliberately picked a fight with you tonight, hoping that if the row was good enough that I would get back past the barrier for long enough to ask for help...Tom Mallern prevented that."
"You've been picking fights with me?" Rory flipped his mind through that last few nightmare months, the raging fights, his own growing sense of futility and despair...Tom's concern.
"I never claimed I was a nice person, Rory. I'm rather attached to this world I was born into and I'm damned reluctant to give it up. Wouldn't you go down fighting if some unknown enemy was forcing you to give up what you love?"
"Fighing makes an ugly mess." Rory spoke after a long and rather reflective silence as he considered his own life. "Which side of the barrier are you on currently?"
"The other side. If I wasn't so tired and detached I would probably be crying...I think I want to cry and yet I know that I can't."
"Umm." Rory settled for silence, filed all the information and waited for Annette to continue.
"I've lost count of the times you've asked me to trust you. I'm not even trusting you now, it just so happens that I'm so divorced from things that it doesn't matter. How can I trust you, Rory? You haven't trusted me since December of Nineteen Hundred and Forty. I'm not some fragile china doll, Rory. I'm no different from the girl you kissed in the back cupboard at the Anson's...except for a couple of years. You say you believe me when I say I'm enjoying this...but your eyes say that your lips lie." Material rustled again and Annette came out of her bed to grab Rory's shoulders. "What does it take? What do you require from me Rory? How can I show you that this is the life I want?"
"I..." Rory stopped, his mind and tongue jammed.
"I let you in to my life when I was sixteen and had no idea what I was doing." There was a moment of silence. "I trusted you at sixteen...I trusted you when I was two. I trusted you in Nineteen Hundred and Forty-One when you were writing outright lies to my face and kissing Lila behind my back. I trusted you in Nineteen Hundred and Forty Two when you came back into my life and said you wanted to be friends...you were lying then just as much as you were lying when kissing Lila. I trusted you when I married you last year. I've trusted you every time you've opened your mouth and accused me of not trusting you. I've trusted you because I believed you were speaking the truth and I have sought and sought for the solutions...it's killing me, Rory. It's killing me and I don't want to die!"
"I..." Rory stopped again and turned his attention back out the window. His eyes told him he could see twinkling sparks in the distance, the battlefield of Monte Cassino. Annette's hands had gone from his shoulders. "What's in this world you've slid into?"
"Nothing." There had been a very long silence before the response came.
"Leaving me wouldn't get you out?"
"It might for a bit, but in the long run it wouldn't." It was that queer tone that Annette responded, it was deadish and dull, a tone she'd started all this conversation in. The voice came from that other world. Rory turned his attention back into the room and blinked as he realised that Annette had not gone back to her bed, she was crumpled in a rather boneless looking heap at his feet.
"On your feet." Rory grabbed the closest arm and pulled, perforce the rest of Annette followed and after a bit she actually put a bit of effort into things and took her own weight on her feet, as opposed to hanging by her shoulder and Rory's hand. "Now sit." Rory pushed Annette into the window sill, neatly hedging her in with his chest behind her, his leg and arm keeping her from falling back into the room and the glass, miraculously intact, preventing her from falling out the window. "Now, tell me what you see."
"Dark." The word came after a very long silence.
"Only dark?"
"Yes." There had been another long silence before the answer emerged.
"Then look harder." Rory carefully undid the silver necklace Annette always wore, he drew it back and squinted at the assortment of small charms that hung off it. The charms came off a necklace he'd given her many years ago. Then he carefully removed the leather cord she wore around her neck. The four rings hung surprisingly motionless in the darkness, but Rory laid them aside with little more than a basic glance, he'd seen them before and knew the promise which lay behind there presence. Two earring were then laid carefully aside, as yet they had no story to tell, to him or anyone else...unless it be how they were made and sold. Rory hesitated before he finally selected the first pin to remove from her hair, it said something of the state of her mind that she had not taken her hair down and brushed it before going to bed.
"What are you doing?" There was almost an element of curiousity in her voice.
"I asked what you saw outside the window." Rory selected his second pin. There was a definite trick to it, but with care it was possible to remove all but one pin without disturbing the hair.
"I find your activities too distracting."
"Never mind my activities. What do you see out the window?"
"I've told you, darkness."
"Nothing else?"
"What else might there be?"
"That is what I wish to find out." Rory selected his third pin. "Recount to me every little thing you see out that window. I want to see what you see...and I want to see it how you see it. I am blind. What do you see?" Rory found his fourth pin.
"Why?" There was frustration leaking into her tone and Rory allowed himself a tiny smile, before taking the fifth pin of his choice.
"Because I wish to see it with someone else's eyes."
"What do you see?"
"Where?" Rory found his sixth pin and placed it carefully with the others, hair pins were like gold and almost unobtainable at any price.
"When you look out the window."
"I see faces...the same faces I see when I close my eyes at night. It is not a view I like and so I seek another view."
"Do you see those same faces in my hair?"
"No."
"Then why worry about the window?"
"I worry because I see occasional flickers of light, yet you apparently do not see that light. It would be better if I found another view out the window." Rory selected the second last pin, smiled quietly to himself and then extracted the last pin with his other hand. The plaits tumbled down, losing their neat conditioning and beginning to unravel.
"I can see the flares and flashes from the lines." Annette paused for a moment as she felt a small tug against her hair and then she focussed out the window once more. "I can see a few...twenty clear stars. I can see a couple of small clouds." Annette half turned back into the room, but an authoritative hand stopped her. "I can see smoke from a chimney, which is a direct contravention of blackout rules. I can see nine rooves." Annette hesitated.
"What else?"
"There's a man walking down the street...going home I think." Annette relaxed slowly as she continued to catalogue what she could see. She mentioned every person who moved in the street. There was also an owl of some variety, and a window which lit for a moment. A door opened, but no one passed through it. A gust of wind which tickled a tree. A loose shutter which banged on the house across the street and two doors down. Annette stopped, waiting for more to happen, but Rory spoke first.
"You are not in that other world are you?"
"No." Annette hesitated only briefly before she shook her head.
"Don't shut me out Annie...we're in this together."
"Why is it that you quote that more frequently to me, than I ever quote it to you?"
"I lie, I run away, I embellish the truth...the one thing I can't do is close myself away from people. You cop ever flicker of guilt I feel about everything." Rory hesitated and then gently touched the side of Annette's face with the tips of his fingers. "I can't help feeling guilt because we live in almost the pits of poverty, rarely knowing from one day to the next how much food will be available to us. Mallern and I at least get rations when we're up near the line. I want us to be able to do anything we want to do. I want to buy you things. I want...I want for us to go around the world. I..." Rory stopped and rubbed his face. "It gets so damn confusing sometimes that I really have no idea what I want...except for you to be happy...and you're not."
"I keep acquiring animals. I forget to feed you because I've found something interesting to read. I embarrass you at the worst possible moments...and I'm introduced to people as your sister." Annette hesitated. "I don't want to be a nuisance and I know that my refusal to return to England made me a nuisance. In Africa I was useful...but not here. I was foisted on you, Rory and..." Annette stopped, unable to articulate around the hand which had covered her mouth.
"Do you remember when you were 'foisted' upon me?" Rory waited until the small nod finally came before he moved his hand. "If you remember that I really do not understand why you can even imagine one, that you were foisted, or two, that I might even consider in the light of a sister for a second."
"Because you're treating me like a little sister." Annette wiped her face on Rory's sleeve. "You're treating me like Jeroen used to when he came home for holidays. You've barely kissed me in months and you haven't hugged me at all."
"The last time I did you stiffened like wood and shrieked like a steam whistle."
"You scared the living daylights out of me." Annette scowled abruptly. "I was peacefully reading an very tedious manuscript when out of nowhere I get smothered in dark material and wrapped up in iron bands...you'd have stiffened and screamed as well under the circumstances."
"We did send a note that we were incoming."
"It never arrived and I was not expecting to be disturbed for an entire week yet. Afterwards all you would do was appologise and beat a hasty retreat. What can I possibly do against such actions?"
"That never occured to me." Rory blinked and then tugged on a scrap of nearby hair. "Well...if I promise not to treat you as a little sister, not to be too busy to torment the living daylights out of you, and not to be so hung-up on money that I get miserable..."
"I really don't want to know what I have to do in return."
"Very simple." Rory eased off the windowsill and stood up. "I want you to be happy."
"I don't want you to promise anything." Annette rose and pushed her face into Rory's shirt front. "I just want you to be Rory...and stop worrying."
"Mm." Rory gave a soft chuckle. "Deja vu?"
"Possibly." Annette shifted slightly. "No dark cupboards though."
"This room is no bigger than that cupboard."
"It has to be, I don't have a shelf digging into me."
"Do you want something digging into you? I'm sure I can find something if you insist."
"No thanks."
"You are picky."
"You think that's picky?"
"Uh-uh, we are not going to have another..."
"Fight?"
"N-o." Rory frowned as he sought an appropriate word. "Academic debate."
"Such a pity."
"Oh shut-up."
"Maybe I don't feel like it."
"You don't ha...oh shut-up."
"You've already said that."
"I never said I was going to be original."
"That is less than original."
"Oh shut-up."
"But I don't want to."
"Will you...oh shut-up."
"Monotonous...very monotonous." Annette gave a small shake of her head. "Sad place this world is coming to. Really quite dreadful." Annette hastily avoided a silencing hand. "I mean when a person..."
"I told you to shut-up." There was a distinct element of satisfaction in Rory's voice when he finally spoke.
"If you think that such a low down, cowardly act is suff..."
"As a matter of fact I do...and I know it as well as think it." Muted amusement was in Rory's voice.
"I call that taking an unfair advantage." Annette's words were sniffy, but Rory caught the laughter behind them and it was with an inner cheer that he played his last card and drew outright laughter.
"Oh shut-up."
We listened to the broadcast last night and it was a very nice and inspiring type effort. I got into another fight but did not end up in hospital this time around (not that I needed to spend any time in hospital last time) and tomorrow we head back out again. Cassino is proving a ghastly bore and I heard that Edward is headed home with one less leg. Fortunately I am still intact, though I have had one small stitching job (two stitches after I rammed a pencil through the web of my hand because Tom thought it would be funny to make me jump...and jump I most certainly did.) Hopefully will be able to send more in my next letter.
Rory
P.s. love from Annie and she has acquired another dog but I am hoping to persuade her to find another home for it...it is the most infernal yapper on the planet!
P.P.s. Annie comes this time, but only with the usual accoutrements.
P.P.P.s. I'm not doing it to get rid of the dogs.
P.P.P.P.s. Okay, maybe I am.
Love from us all and I PROMISE I'll write properly next time. Breakfast has just arrived. RDear Mums,
Part 63
April 19th 1944 - Weybridge, England
When in doubt, be suspicious for the innocent face may hide a devious mind.
"Has he arrived yet?" The cool, and icily polite voice startled Mac out of his concentration and he turned with a glare towards the source of distraction.
"What the devil do you mean by disturbing me when I'm out with the dogs?" Mac was furious and his ire only rose as it met with dead, and unresponding silence. "No, he hasn't."
"How annoying." There was a moment of silence. "Please tell him to call when he arrives."
"Why the devil should I?" Mac finally managed to clear his thoughts away from dog training and began focussing on the woman who had interrupted him.
"I made my request in a polite manner and I am unaware of any reasons for why you might not acquiesce."
"Manners have nothing to do with the matter Miss Darcy." Mac rose to his feet and rubbed his forehead. "If, as you phrase it, I refuse to acquiesce, it is simply because I have no expectation of seeing Jim anytime soon."
"You might have no expectations of seeing him, but he most certainly had expectations of seeing you when I last spoke to him."
"Fine." Mac sat down again. "Any information on what you require his attention for?"
"I am short a steward and seek his advice on what to do about getting a new one."
"Your agent can't help?"
"My agent is the Pemberley agent, and he only takes orders of this nature from Mr Darcy or Mr O'Niell. For some strange reason, due to Mr Darcy's enforced residence at Rosings, Mr O'Niell is not speaking to me and as a result I am forced to attempt to persuade Mr Darcy to attend to this rather trivial matter. Even Mrs O'Niell failed to make him see that he was defeating his own intentions by not dealing with me."
"Which Mrs O'Niell?"
"Both."
"I'll let him know." Mac gave a very resigned sigh before gazing thoughtfully across the back yard at the exceptionally large black and tan canine who was proving singularly recalcitrant to training.
"Who's the dog?"
"That is Gaius Caligula." Mac paused to give a short whistle and called the dog to him. "Today we may finally have learnt to come when called."
"He seems a trifle old for such basic training."
"He's not one of mine. A...friend picked him up and seemed to think I'd appreciate the challenge of dealing with a real character."
"Is it a character?"
"Couldn't say, but for sheer bloody-minded stubborness I have only ever met one dog to equal this one."
"Worth training?"
"Sharp as a bag of monkeys. An incredibly smart dog, even for an Alsatian...which he isn't. He knows all his lessons up to his current age, and then some, even though I've only had him for two months."
"Then why is he learning to come when called?"
"A little issue of independence. Gaius Caligula will perform any training activity to perfection...provided it suits his fancy to oblige."
"Pure blood?"
"No." Mac grinned suddenly at her display of abysmal ignorance, scratched Caligula's head and commanded him to sit. "There is at most a quarter Alsatian in him...as for the rest...well, let's just say it's possibly very interesting."
"I see." Juliette rose from her crouch to inspect the dog and Mac was calmly ignoring her when he heard her growl softly. Mac jerked his head up and around in complete perplexity for it was the last noise he would have expected to hear from her. At first Mac saw nothing, and then he saw James Darcy standing by the gate exchanging thoughtful expressions with Nemo. Nemo was reared up against the gate with a range of teeth on display, but there was no saying at the present moment whether he was happy or mad.
"Which one is it?" It was an audible reflection of a rhetorical thought and Mac was startled when Juliette replied to it.
"The real one." A firm hand flicked across skirts to straighten them.
"How do you know?"
"Nemo doesn't like Stan."
"You have a point." Mac noted the hand which was scratching behind Nemo's ears, a tongue now hung out from between the teeth and the tip of Nemo's tail was just beginning to twitch in happiness. "Jim!"
"What?" James looked up from Nemo and across the yard.
"Stop corrupting my dogs and making saps of them."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't ask nicely. The Princess here seems to think she needs a new Steward."
"I know."
"If you knew you might have saved me from attempting to deal with Mr O'Niell." Juliette's expression darkened slightly and Mac hastily swallowed a grin.
"I felt you were enjoying it too much." James had come through the gate and approached Mac and Juliette with one dog and four pups on his heels and a faint smile on his face.
"You..." It was a splutter of indignation which came from Juliette and Mac carefully swallowed any expression he might have had.
"Meet Gaius Caligula, Jim."
"Oh, interesting name for him." James bent down to make the acquaintance of Caligula and inspect him with a careful hand. "I highly doubt any of the Roman Emperors had this mix of blood in them."
"You recognise something?"
"I recognise the additional markings...you've got about a quarter arctic wolf on your hands."
"No good for selling?"
"Not unless someone wants a personal guard dog."
"He wants it." Juliette's tone would have been waspish in a slightly less well-bred lady. "Set it to guard him...at least then we'll be able to find him."
"I only do it to please you, darling."
"You..." Juliette seemed to swallow something of a rather awkward shape. Mac glanced between the two in perplexity, but it was only after Juliette abruptly stalked off that he fully comprehended James' comment.
"Rather ruthless of you, Jim." Mac spoke rather hesitantly as he ended Gaius Caligula's training and threw him a ball to fetch.
"Ruthless?" James' paused to count on his fingers. "Eight seconds that time, my form is slipping. I wouldn't have considered it ruthless at all."
"Why?"
"Brian will not speak to Juliette, that is true...but there is nothing that says he will not read a letter from her."
"Just because trite technicalities rule your life does not necessarily mean that they rule everyone elses."
"That is far from being a trite technicality, it happens to be a highly ingenious legal evasion which ensures we speak the truth while giving a totally erroneous impression. If it was just a steward which brought Juliette here today she would have written to Brian and saved the trip. Juliette was spoiling for a fight and I obligingly came up to scratch when Brian so disobligingly refused to rise for the bait."
"That doesn't stop you from being ruthless."
"I would have said it was actually most kind-hearted of me." James threw Caligula's ball to the far end of the yard. "I acted from the most pure motives and given approximately twenty-four hours Juliette will send me a letter of thanks...couched in sufficiently diplomatic terms that only someone who knows her would have the faintest idea that she is writing about anything which is not covered by the latest visit by the local mayor...whom she finds an abominable bore, and usually is the cause for these...occurances."
"You claim to know her?"
"Depends on your definition of know." James yawned and threw the ball again. "The motives of Juliette de Bourgh Darcy are simplicity itself, she is concerned first for her own reputation, then Rosings, and finally for the family name...which causes much conflict for her since one half of the family has been engaged in a diplomatic war with the other half for nigh on fifty years now."
"I thought the Major got on well with his aunt."
"Only after he reached marriageable age...and before he had the temerity to marry someone other than his cousin Anne." James yawned again. "Tireder than I thought. You got a bed I can borrow or do I go in search of a bed somewhere else?"
"Made up and waiting for you." Mac threw Caligula's ball one last time and rose to his feet in preparation of leading the way inside. "Do warn me next time if there is any probability of having to lie to Miss Darcy...I shall take cover in the woodshed and await her departure."
"Coward." James dropped his bag on the floor and dropped heavily onto the bed. "Though I freely concede that you are a coward with comfortable beds. You've only had to lie to her once, whereas I lie to her about every time we meet...strangely enough she doesn't seem to believe a word I say anymore."
"How bizarre." Mac gave a small shake of his head and retreated, well aware that James was soundly asleep before the door had even closed.
"The sleeping wonder has roused I perceive." Mac poured out a mug of tea and pushed it along the bench so James could pick it up.
"Very funny." James sniffed the contents of the mug, stifled a massive yawn and seemed to drink the entire contents in a single mouthful. "What horror landed on my bed with a thump a minute ago?"
"Did it just thump?" Mac had glanced automatically, and half fearfully towards the open back door.
"No." James poured himself some more tea. "It also shrieked something ghastly about Uncle Jimmy and the weather."
"That would be Marine...and she left for school two hours ago."
"I said it was a minute ago." James was nursing his second mug of tea with significantly more respect and care. "How are the dogs today?"
"That is a damn stupid question." Mac gave vent to a disgusted snort. "I have seven untrained pups and one Caligula and you dare to ask how they are?"
"Would you prefer I simply made a vague noise of commiseration?"
"I would prefer it if you took over Caligula."
"Mac..."
"He's an Alsatian for...goodness sake, though I'd prefer that you didn't let him go wild, he is quite capable of surviving on his own if you are so stupid as to get caught again."
"That's..." James sighed and then made a disgusted noise. "Fine."
"Thankyou." Mac dumped some porrige into a bowl and shoved it down the counter. "Now you may imperil your digestion with breakfast."
"You mean I could have saved myself indigestion by refusing?"
"No, but you have saved worse indigestion by accepting...I made sure it had fresh milk."
"Thankyou." James hesitated only a moment longer and then began systematically shovelling the food into his mouth. Mac watched in silence for a couple of minutes before pushing to his feet with a brief look at his watch.
"I'm afraid I'm required at the aerodrome."
"Telepathy?" James looked up from his porrige with a curious lift of his brows.
"Very clever." Mac pulled a face. "I found out by telephone about an hour before you polluted the room with your presence. I was given five minutes to ensure you weren't dead after descending and then told to get across unless I wanted to endanger my hearing."
"Ahh." James returned his attention to the food. "I will entertain myself with the venerable Gaius Caligula until such time as I am disturbed."
"Sure you wouldn't prefer to come to the aerodrome?"
"Quite certain." James spoke rather curtly and without looking up. Mac frowned slightly began to speak, noticed something he hadn't seen before and moved away without saying a word.
"Call the usual number if there's a problem, otherwise we should reappear with food at the usual intervals...if we don't, feed yourself." Mac retrieved his hat and coat, glancing around in a seemingly casual manner as he did so.
"Right." If James had looked up from his breakfast he would have noted Mac's manner and acted accordingly.
"Errm." The hesitant noise caused James to look up sharply, but he was too late to take action as Mac had already got himself on the otherside of the door.
"What?" James swept a quick scan of the room, but found no reason for why Mac would suddenly begin behaving so furtively.
"It's your dog." Mac carefully eased the front door to until only his head was still visible, and that easily withdrawn. "He's chewing on your right leg." Mac withdrew his head smartly and banged the door as a precaution against flying peril. The curse and a crash, not against the door, from inside were still more than just audible through the door and it was with a grin that Mac headed for the aerodrome. That was one memory which was going to be carefully treasured and dusted off at strategic moments.
"What's biting you?" Hope was scowling as Mac ambled into her office, she'd not slept in twenty-four hours now and Mac was looking far too cheerful for a man of his temperament facing a day of paperwork.
"Nothing." Mac caught the two pads which spun through the air at his head. "Nothing is biting me at all."
"Well, you're too damn pleased with yourself considering you know what's in store."
"Ahh, but you did not witness the warming occurance which I witnessed before my departure."
"Do I want to ever re-enter the house?" Hope put her pen down before staring at Mac with an expression akin to despair.
"I did nothing." Mac dropped into a nearby chair and frowned at one of the pads. "Why have I been given some flight notes written by Seddons?"
"Because Seddons is in hospital, in a coma and not expected to emerge." Hope picked up her pen again. "We want to know whether Seddons had any hint that he wrote down before his plane shed its wings."
"Ouch." Mac flipped through some pages. "There's likely to be something for Seddons was meticulous...if rather unintelligible."
"What happened?"
"I'm not a magician, give me at least a minute to read the notes."
"I meant concerning the warming occurance I missed and you did not instigate." Hope reached for her slide-rule. "You might as well tell since you know I won't let you escape without telling."
"Ahh, but you have no way of telling whether I've told the truth or not."
"I do know that it did not include complete destruction of the house."
"She shed her wings?"
"Yes."
"Height?"
"Hundred feet...fifty feet...he was coming in to land and ended up in the trees."
"Ye-es." Mac grimaced as he scowled over the pad. Hope watched in silence as Mac flipped first from one page, then to another and then back again. Long experience had taught her that Mac would find something, though it would take most of the day to actually convert it from his vague 'flyer's impression' to her useful 'facts and figures'.
"So?"
"Gaius Caligula."
"That menace seems hardly a cause to grin over."
"Ah, but Gaius Caligula was not biting me."
"I thought you'd trained that dog not to bite."
"He wasn't biting anyone...at least not directly."
"How do you indirectly bite someone?"
"You try chewing on a nice wooden peg." Mac gave a sudden smile. "What really got me though was that Jim did not notice until I told him."
"What's broken?"
"Probably nothing, but I think he overset a chair getting up."
"That's a relief." Hope hesitated and then carefully turned back to her own work. Whatever the reason, Mac would not be providing instant information from those pages of scribbled notes. There wasn't time for her to sit around and wait for him to provide wisdom, she'd have to work until he spoke.
"Heat?" It was over an hour later when Mac finally spoke and it was to ask a question.
"Heat?" Hope looked up in complete incomprehension from some calculations on a new wing.
"Heat." Mac looked up with a shrug and a slight headshake. "He's scribbled it on the side of the page with a question mark."
"But that doesn't mean anything."
"It shouldn't be there." Mac frowned at the page. "Several other places it might go...but not there."
"Why?"
"It's scribbled next to the bank assessment."
"Bank assessment?"
"Not the financial institution." Mac scratched his head and drew a multi-angled something or other on the corner of his second pad, which had been blank.
"No sense."
"Why?"
"There shouldn't be heat then and he wouldn't just have the page open for the fun of it." Mac wrote the word on his blank page and then resumed reading. "What are you doing?"
"Empennage stress analysis." Hope picked up her pencil again. "Some new stuff came out based on nuclear theory and the distribution of stress through an aerofoil. Edgar sent it down because he seemed to think it affects us."
"Edgar would." Mac smiled wryly for he himself had dealt frequently with Edgar, who was positive that anything, even the most pointless, of new discoveries in the scientific world was vital information regarding his aeroplanes. Mac was not going to forget any time soon the disaster of the 'padded' seats which supposedly reduced strain on the airframe caused by the pilot bouncing against restraints while involved in a dogfight. It was Mac's unaltered opinion that the airframe invariably caused him more damage than he could possibly ever cause it with anything short of a sledge...and these days those sorts of weights were far beyond his abilities.
"You've been staring into space for almost ten minutes." Hope had laid her pen down.
"Just thinking." Mac drew a neat circle and after a moment of thought filled in most of the interior with black ink.
"About what?"
"I've got a job to do which I haven't done for several years now." Mac abruptly pushed to his feet and grabbed his coat. "I'll get back to you."
"Why?" Hope's expression darkened to a frown.
"Jim can help with this, but he will not come here." Mac had the door open. "If he won't come here, then the work is going to him."
"Your call." Hope turned her attention back to the pages in front of her and dismissed the matter without another thought. Mac wedged the pads into a pocket and slammed the door behind himself as he headed back across the airfield.
"That didn't take long." James was on the steps with Caligula when Mac came through the gate. Both man and dog looked curiously comfortable for such an uncomfortable perch.
"Technically it is not over yet." Mac dropped onto the step besides James, carefully choosing the most distant position to Caligula.
"Then why come back?"
"Because I have a sneaking suspicion that you can help me with the problem." Mac glanced across at Caligula and sighed. "How do you do it, Jim?"
"Do what?"
"Caligula. You've done more in the hour and a bit I've been gone, than I managed in the entire two weeks and a half he was with me."
"Oh." James returned his attention to some distant point far beyond the airfield. "Experience with the breed."
"You're never going to tell why you went to Greenland are you?"
"What's to tell?" James brought his attention back from the distance with a blink. "I had a fight with my father and wanted away."
"Most people don't go to Greenland to avoid their parents."
"Most people aren't me." James gave a faint smile. "What brought you here?"
"Heat."
"Well, I can't help you...I forgot my portable fire."
"Heat, a scribbled query beside some bank assessment notes. It shouldn't be there and I think it has got to be relevent."
"Ask Pyro."
"Pyro won't know the answer any more than I do...or Hope does."
"Fork." James held out a hand for the pad with a sigh. "How important is this?"
"Relatively speaking who knows." Mac looked away himself. "But Seddons is lying up at the hospital in a coma he is not expected to wake from...and I'd at least like to be able to tell him what happened really before he slips his wind. Always a beastly feeling to think that it's something you did, or didn't do, which made the mess."
"True." James began nibbling on the corner of his thumb as he flipped through the pages.
"I'll be out the back with the dogs." Mac rose to his feet, gave a faint shake of his head and moved away.
"Mac?" James' head lifted as Mac began to close the door.
"Mm?" Mac turned back with an inquisitive eyebrow raise.
"Can you get your hands on the plans and mathematics?"
"You got something?"
"No." James returned his attention to the pad. "I have an idea which might be relevent, but I need the plans and maths."
"What?"
"Seddons was doing high-speed banking in what looks like a jet...I'm guessing it's something even more if they've pulled you out of retirement to read the notes."
"Why do you conclude that?" Mac's eyes narrowed abruptly.
"I rather think you don't want to know that." James scribbled a small note to himself and then sighed. "In fact I know you don't want to know that."
"Jim." Mac turned back and dropped back onto the stairs. "When did all this happen?"
"What?"
"The last I had much to do with you was when you were fourteen and spending the summer here. You've always been quietly bloody-minded...but you've not had this damnable...I dunno. I really have no way of explaining what I'm trying to say."
"Nothing happened, Mac." James gave a faint smile. "I ceased being a child and grew up. Regrettably some aspects of my personality have not yet managed the transfer. They'll come in time...but probably not until after this war is over."
"Bloody war if you ask me." Mac rose again. "I'll get onto Hope about the stuff you asked for."
"Thanks." James had turned his attention to the page Mac had been scribbling on and seemed to have found something interesting there. Mac decided this would be another thing he didn't want to ask about and he headed into the house after the telephone.
May 1944 - London, England
Education is...hanging around until you've caught on. - Robert Frost
"Oh, here. I SAY!" Claude Watson lunged desperately for the window of the train, trampling on shoes and bruising shins other than his own, he scanned the platform worriedly for the person he sought. "CHARLIE!"
"What?" Charles looked back irritably, his mind already occupied on other things.
"This what-not you've dumped on me." Claude waved his hand rather agitatedly.
"It's a magnetic mine and what about it?" Charles' irritation deepened and a scowl came onto his face.
"Will the what-nots of the train have any effect on it?"
"Shouldn't think so and Lane said he defused it."
"That's the world's most comforting statement." Claude withdrew his head from the window and resumed his seat with a sigh. "One of these went off only yesterday." Claude kicked the parcel he had ever so carefully stowed under the seat. "But I'm pretty certain today is my lucky day." Claude pulled a book from his bag and began to read. Already two people had found excuses to seek seats elsewhere in the train.
"You know..." Thomas carefully inspected the corridor before he closed the door behind the last person to leave the compartment. "For someone who never lies, you achieve better results then those of us who do lie...though I'm inclined to think you lied today."
"I did?" Claude looked up from his book in visible confusion.
"I rather think so."
"When?"
"You observed that one had gone off yesterday."
"And?"
"We've never had one go off."
"I never said it was ours." Claude raised his book again. "One is guaranteed to have exploded somewhere in the world during the previous twenty-four hour period. Technically not a lie. It was their error in not enquiring as to where and when the explosion had occured."
"You do like technicalities."
"You know James Darcy and you end up living and breathing technicalities. Besides which, it means I can sleep with an easy conscience." Claude pushed the book back into his bag and snapped open his briefcase. "So, let's check these results."
"Whatever." Thomas opened his own case and pulled a thick sheathe of papers out. It was handy to have a compartment to yourselves when you had work to do...and an explosive device, be it ever so harmless, was a good way of ensuring isolation.
May 19th 1944 - Cassino, Italy
An eye for an eye can only lead to blindness. - Margaret Atwood
"It seems to have been a singularly futile waste of lives and five months to take this place." Rory kicked at the loose stones underfoot. Eoan sniffed at the stones himself and gave a small whine. Annette carefully tugged on Eoan's collar before stepping back and away from where Rory and Mallern were. Eoan whined again and Annette didn't blame him for the air was rank.
"I've no doubt the high command had their reasons...even if those reasons were simply ones of appearance and politics." Mallern looked around and made a rather tired noise. "Nothing doing here, we might as well call it a day and go back."
"Right." There was a certain alacrity in Rory's action which caused Annette's eyebrows to rise slightly. Rory was more inclined to imply pressure and make Mallern work than to simply agree and tear off back towards town.
"So you've received a telegram as well have you?" Mallern looked rather quizzically at Rory.
"No." Rory paused where he stood four steps further down the mountain and glanced back. "Annie received a letter which mentioned that it looked like you were on the verge of being moved again. I drew some conclusions and it seems they were the right ones to draw."
"Ah." Mallern calmly followed after Rory, leaving Annette to bring up the rear with Eoan and a frown.
"Rory." It was several minutes later when Annette abruptly called out.
"We going too fast?" Mallern looked back with a note of concern.
"No." Annette was glad for the momentary breather though. "It actually concerned that letter of mine he was quoting."
"Oh boy, you're in for it now Halifax, should never go reading the missus' mail without permission." Mallern was grinning where he stood.
"I never read it at all." Rory was looking very perplexed. "Annie simply asked me whether I'd heard about your transfer, I responded not yet and drew my own conclusions on the matter. Can we get down this damn mountain now?"
"Certainly, Mrs Tiddle-Mouse." Annette's response drew a perplexed frown from Mallern and a dry laugh from Rory as he turned and continued his descent.
"Mrs Tiddle-Mouse?" Mallern's expression was inquisitive as he drew even with Rory on a large rock.
"An old joke...which is only funny because it's so old and has somehow lasted so long without ever being funny." Rory re-settled his pack and frowned.
"Why is it a joke?"
"Because, if you believe Annie, I don't look at all like Mrs Tiddle-Mouse."
"I'd agree with her there, but I still don't see the point."
"The point is that there is no point." Rory gathered himself briefly before jumping onto another rock. "Insofar as it might be considered funny, the humour is contained in the fact that there is no humour. Insofar as it lasted it is safe to say that it lasted because for approximately five years it was a sure-fire way for Button to make me lose my temper...and afterwards it was our quiet laugh which no one else understood."
"Well you're still safe for I still don't understand." Mallern cursed as he slid from a rock and then hollered. Annette and Rory both froze where they stood, uncertain of what had caused Mallern's outcry. "Don't move a muscle."
"I wasn't intending to." Rory gave a groan as he saw Mallern scrabbling for his sketch-pad. "Annie?"
"What?"
"Did you pack your patience today?"
"Why?"
"You're probably going to need it."
"Any more than last week when I forgot it?"
"Mm, tough call." Rory shot half a glance at Mallern. "I think it might be a winner though."
"Wonderful." Annette glanced around and then wrinkled up her nose. "Will you ask him if I'm allowed to sit down?"
"I can answer without asking." Rory gave a brief laugh. "No."
"I rather feared that." Annette glanced first to the left, then to the right and then she frowned. "Mrs Tiddle-Mouse?"
"Do you HAVE to call me that?"
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Would you believe me if I said because it's fun?"
"No."
"Pity."
"Why?"
"Because since you won't believe me I am now compelled to tell you that a former acquaintance of both of us is ascending towards us."
"Who?" Rory had looked around in some confusion and without any recognition.
"Someone who would probably kill you of embarrassment if you weren't already dead because I'd called you Tiddle-Mouse twice in about an hour."
"WHO?" Rory had looked around twice in complete confusion without seeing a familiar face beyond Annette and Mallern.
"Oh well, that being the case I wouldn't worry at all." Annette waved to someone with a faint smile. "Do ask Tom if I can move."
"Tom?"
"She can leave...you can't."
"Fine." Rory turned back. "You may shift with Mallern's blessing."
"Good." Annette carefully moved across to where a couple of FANYs stood talking. Rory frowned for a moment and then turned back to Mallern, if Annette thought there was cause for him to become embarrassed among those women, then he certainly did not wish to gawp at them...particularly since he had no idea why she thought that.
"What was all that about this afternoon?" Mallern was leaning against the doorframe, watching as Annette studied a cookbook and Rory endeavoured to follow her oft conradicted instructions.
"All what?" Rory looked up from the pot in surprise.
"That stuff about death by embarrassment."
"A joke." Annette scratched the side of her head. "Do the Italians use double negatives?"
"Wouldn't have the faintest." Mallern frowned. "Joke?"
"I saw a mutual acquaintance and decided to have a little fun at Rory's expense...she's coming by later tonight with something I have no idea about." Annette scowled at the book. "Either the carrots are added now, or the carrots are not added now...I'm not quite certain though."
"Does it really matter?" Mallern gave a small shake of his head. "It's just going to look like mush anyway."
"That is not the point." Rory calmly shovelled all the rest of the ingredients into the pot, added a bit more water, gave it a stir and then settled back on his heels. "This is now an academic issue of grammar...and we won't hear the last of it until we have an answer."
"Rory!" Annette looked up with a scowl.
"It's true." Rory stifled a hasty yawn and then frowned as a knock sounded on the front door. "I thought you said she was coming later tonight."
"What's to say it's her?" Annette laid the cookbook aside and pulled a jumper on before going to answer the door. "However, you were correct." Annette had opened the door and looked out before she pulled back to add the last.
"Who is it?" Mallern came out to the door and frowned because he somehow couldn't see who was on the otherside of the door.
"Lila." Annette had the briefest of hesitations before responding. "I'll be back shortly." Annette skirted around the door and closed it carefully behind herself.
"Who is Lila?" Mallern turned back to the kitchen in perplexity, but it deepened to concern as he noticed Rory's expression. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Rory wasn't quite certain how he got the word out, but once he'd said it words became easier. "As Annette said earlier it's something I don't want to even think about."
"Who is Lila?"
"She's a girl I saw behind Annette's back...and somehow it ended up in the national papers. It should have caused my discharge from the RAF, but someone decided to change the minds of the Air Board and somehow I ended up in Burma."
"Oh, that mess." Mallern settled down on a stool and helped himself to a newspaper, which even if it hadn't been more than a month out of date he still couldn't have read since it was a greek newspaper. Mallern looked up suddenly. "If she's that girl...why is Annie talking to her?"
"To be quite frank, that is a question I do not want to know the answer to." Rory turned back to the pot and gave the contents a stir. "Lila is acquainted with James Darcy and was trying to marry him before she decided that Annie was interested. Annie wasn't interested so Lila's plan didn't work. That world however seems to consist of multi-part agendas...for all I know she's James Darcy's private secretary and we're shortly to lose Annie temporarily to Darcy concerns."
"Only temporarily?"
"She's my wife, if it's not temporary then there's going to be one hell of an arguement."
"I trust Rory is a better liar these days."
"No." Annette studied the woman next to her curiously. "He's not interested and Mallern takes Rory's lead in what is interesting or not...apart from art stuff."
"Good."
"Who are you really?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I know of you as Lila...but Lila would most certainly not know the MAGI code. Therefore, you are clearly someone else before you are Lila."
"Why should I trust you with that sort of information?"
"Because you've no one else to go to." Annette came to a halt. "I officially do not exist anymore...and that was done for my safety, and the safety of others. Your coming here leaves a trail and therefore that safety no longer exists. If I've lost my protection then I'd like to know why you remain safe?"
"I forgot you could be this obnoxious." Faint annoyance was audible in the voice. "You've lost your security...isn't that all the more reason for me to preserve mine?"
"You're either going to kill me, and prove that I was wrong to trust you simply because you had the MAGI code, or you've contacted me in pure desperation knowing that all hell could well break loose because of it."
"Always knew you couldn't be a stupid as Rory thought." The woman paused, her expression grim. "Ashie was the only reason I ever had anything to do with the MAGI, and you definitely spent too much time in his company." She hesitated again and then grimaced. "I am Grafn Hilde von Nickel."
"How did you persuade Mr Darcy to trust you?" Annette had actually wanted to ask a different question, but it didn't come out and she was thankful afterwards.
"I didn't." Hilde's expression was empty and the subject was clearly closed.
"What's the problem then?"
"Someone is in trouble in Berlin and is going to be ferried at high speed down through Italy within a couple of weeks. I can't do the job because I'm being transferred but someone has to be here...someone who knows the party being ferried."
"How fast are we talking?"
"We're talking of three days to get him from Berlin to London...without any advance preparations, and no aeroplanes before Gibralter."
"I know the party?" Annette had considered Hilde's words for a long moment before she finally spoke.
"You'd better." Hilde glanced around abruptly. "I have to go now and you needn't worry about seeing me again...but expect a message to come via Rory for Neddie."
"I take it he's not to know?"
"Correct."
"Anything else?"
"Yes." Hilde pulled a wry face. "I trust it will make sense to you but it was a request. Neddie, send Diemos home."
"That all?"
"Yes."
"What fun." Annette gave a faint shake of her head and then turned back towards the house. "Keep safe Hilde."
"I'm the last person who requires to be worried about."
"I'm not worried." Annette gave a smile. "I just encourage a judicious course of action over the heroic."
"Ugh!" Hilde grimaced again, but it was with a smile that she headed off into the darkness. Hilde had no friends, it was too dangerous, but tonight she had a distinct knowledge that after the war she and Annette were going to become very good friends indeed...though in all probability at a fair old distance. It was a pleasant thought and a harmless thought, pleasant company for the long journey back to Berlin.