Dominion (69 page)

‘Who are you all?’ David asked. ‘The man in front’s got a captain’s tabs.’

‘Used to be a regular soldier until Churchill left Parliament,’ the Yorkshireman answered. ‘Decided to help him “set Britain ablaze”. Remember that
speech?’

‘And you two?’

‘We’re soldiers of the Resistance,’ the Cockney answered, ‘not forces of the Fascist state. We steal army uniforms as well as trucks. Two of the men who brought you here
were real firemen, though. That’s their jobs finished, because of this,’ he added reproachfully. ‘They’re on the run now.’

‘So am I, pal,’ Ben said, an edge to his voice. ‘I had a safe job nursing in a loony bin for years till last week. That’s the price of servin’ the cause,
eh?’

‘We’re all in it together,’ the Yorkshireman said gently.

The truck halted. They had only travelled a few streets. The thin Cockney shone his torch under the seats; David saw a number of canvas bags there. ‘Right,’ the Cockney said briskly,
‘everybody take a bag, get out and get changed.’

‘I want tae know where we’re going,’ Ben said stubbornly.

The Cockney shone the torch full in his face. ‘Listen, Jock. We lost good people tonight in London, thanks to you lot. So do as you’re fucking told. Now out, all of you.’

They were in a narrow street beside what looked like a small factory. A man was waiting there, a thin man in a bowler hat and a long coat; he looked like a rent collector. He
went over to the captain, who had stepped out of the cab, and exchanged a few whispered words. Then he came over to Natalia. ‘You’re to come with me please, miss.’

Natalia glanced at David. She said to the man, ‘Can you give us a few moments?’

He nodded reluctantly. ‘All right. But just a minute.’ David and Natalia stepped away from the others. He said, ‘We – I’m sorry that—’

She smiled. ‘I’m not. How could I be? We’ll meet again soon.’ David looked at the group of soldiers, a dim huddle in the fog. Frank and Ben were changing into army
uniform. ‘Will we?’

‘Yes. I’ll see you soon.’ She hesitated. ‘Though from what Eileen said your wife will be joining us.’

David took her hand. ‘Do you know, that was the first time I’ve ever been unfaithful to her?’

Natalia took a deep breath. ‘Then perhaps you were right, and it is over between you?’ She looked uncertain.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The captain came over. ‘You have to leave now, miss,’ he said sternly. ‘And you –’ he gave David a look of disapproval
– ‘you have to change into uniform. Now.’

Natalia leaned up and kissed David quickly. ‘Till later,’ she said with a sad smile. She touched his hand briefly, then went over to the man who had come for her. Without another
word the two walked away, their shapes instantly swallowed up in the fog.

‘Come on,’ Ben called impatiently. David wondered what the Scotsman thought of him and Natalia; he hadn’t given any sign. Geoff might have disapproved, but Geoff was dead.

They changed quickly into thick, itchy army uniforms. They were all privates now. The uniform felt familiar to David, took him back to 1940. He adjusted his cap and felt in his pocket for the
cyanide capsule he had transferred there. They climbed into the back of the truck again and it set off once more, rumbling slowly through the empty streets. Through the window into the cab David
looked past the heads of the driver and the captain, outlined against the weak beams of the headlights. The road ahead was full of swirling fog.

‘How are you doing, old friend?’ he asked Frank quietly. He was sitting next to him; he seemed in a daze.

‘All right, I suppose. It’s strange wearing this uniform.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I ran, David, I broke my promise. But I thought we were going to be
captured and I was the only one who didn’t have – you know, a pill.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘A church. The police were coming. This vicar found me. He helped me, got me to the Resistance people, gave me his jacket.’ He was silent again, then he said, ‘I keep thinking
about Geoff.’

‘I know. He was a brave friend.’ He glanced at Ben, sitting on his other side. He was frowning.

‘You all right?’ David asked quietly.

‘I just wonder what they’re goin’ tae dae with us,’ Ben whispered. He looked at the Yorkshireman, then asked, ‘Where are we goin’ now?’

‘Out of town, that’s all I know.’

They passed through a busy area, the truck slowing to a crawl, inching along in the fog. Then they speeded up again for a while. Outside the fog seemed to be lifting a little. Then David heard
the captain say from the cab, in a tense tone, ‘Here we go.’ Looking into the cab David saw a roadblock ahead, a wooden barrier across the road. The Cockney got up and pushed David
aside to watch through the glass panel as the truck pulled to a halt. The Yorkshireman leaned across and tapped Frank on the knee.

‘We’re being stopped. But the captain will get us through okay.’ He spoke as though to a backward child. ‘You just keep quiet. All right?’

David whispered to Ben, ‘I suppose Frank’s pills are back at the O’Sheas’?’

‘The Largactil? Yes.’ A policeman appeared then, shining a torch into the cab. The captain wound the window down. ‘Evening, officer,’ he said confidently. The policeman
saluted.

‘Where are you going, sir?’ he asked. His tone was respectfully polite but there was something worried, David thought, about his look.

‘Taking some men to the Jew camp at Dover. Guard duty. I’m going to be assisting the Commander.’ He handed a document to the policeman, who studied it by the light of his
torch. ‘Having trouble with the Yids?’ he asked apprehensively.

‘No. Why should we be? But the camps need guards. Why the roadblock?’

‘Escaped terrorists. Three men and a woman, all in their thirties. They got away from a raid at New Cross. The Branch is pulling all the stops out on this one for some reason.’

‘Locking the stable door after the horse has bolted, eh?’

‘That’s about the size of it, sir,’ the policeman answered heavily.

‘We haven’t seen anybody. Though it’s hard to see your own hand in this fog.’

‘I know. Never seen anything like it. Strange night for – what’s happened in Germany.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Hitler’s dead. It’s official.’

The men in the back of the cab looked at each other, their faces suddenly bright. Frank said, ‘Did he say—’ The Yorkshireman leaned forward and put a hand over his mouth.
‘Shhhh.’

‘Are you sure?’ David heard the captain ask.

‘They’re saying at the police station that it’s true.’

‘Good God,’ the captain said. ‘What’ll happen now?’

‘Who knows?’ the policeman answered. ‘I hope the Jews don’t hear, that’s why I wondered if there might be trouble at the detention camps. Anyway, we’ve got to
check all vehicles going out of London. Mind if I just have a look in the back?’

‘Be my guest.’ The captain leaned back and called out, ‘Open up!’

The Cockney private opened the canvas flaps. The policeman leaned in and shone his torch over the men, and under the benches. Ben said in a joking voice, ‘Wisnae anything to do with me,
Constable, that missing crate of Spam in Aldershot!’ The others laughed. The policeman grunted and closed the flap. He waved them on, saluting the captain again as they passed. Everybody let
out their breath and relaxed, except Frank, who sat staring rigidly ahead.

The captain slid open the glass partition. His face was animated now, excited. ‘You chaps hear that? They’re saying Hitler’s dead!’

‘That bastard, gone at last,’ the Yorkshireman said feelingly.

They weren’t stopped again, and they drove slowly but steadily on. David thought they were heading east rather than south but he wasn’t sure. He wondered where
Natalia was, whether he would see her again. And Sarah. Was it over with Sarah? He still didn’t know.

The fog thinned further, eventually vanishing to leave the starry darkness of a December night. Twisting his head to look into the cab, David saw they were travelling along country roads now,
the skeletal shapes of trees appearing and vanishing again, ghostly white in the headlights. He thought, we’re not going to the coast, we’d have been there by now. He glanced at Ben,
who sat looking ahead of him, frowning. The roads became worse, the truck banging and clattering over them. As the journey continued, heads began to nod despite the jolting. David leaned across and
whispered to Ben, ‘Frank’s asleep. He wasn’t looking too good earlier.’

‘He needs another dose. But I had to leave all his stuff at the O’Sheas’. Where the hell are they taking us?’

‘Why are you so worried?’ David whispered.

‘I want tae know where we’re going. Why won’t they tell us? There’s something in their attitude – I don’t like it.’

‘They’ve lost people tonight.’

‘So have we.’

David sat back. After a while his eyes closed from sheer weariness. He woke with a jolt as the truck came to a halt. The captain opened the cab window. ‘Everyone out!’ he called.

They all climbed down. David helped Frank, who was shaking. They stepped into pitch darkness, onto what felt like a gravelled driveway, tall trees on either side just visible as shapes outlined
against the sky. It was very cold; there was a smell of wet, freezing air. No lights were visible anywhere.

‘David,’ Frank whispered urgently. ‘Where are we?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘No talking,’ the captain snapped. ‘Follow me.’ The three soldiers had surrounded them, their rifles held at the ready. Beside David, Ben took a deep breath. The thought
flashed through David’s head:
they’re going to shoot us
. We’ve caused them so many problems they’ve decided to get rid of us, somewhere quiet out in the country. Or
perhaps they’ll keep Frank alive, interrogate him, find his secret. If Hitler’s dead everybody’s calculations will change. He looked at the dim outline of the captain, marching
steadily ahead of him. He didn’t like him, there was something cold and implacable about the man.

They were led down the pitch-dark driveway, footsteps crunching softly. Then the shape of what looked like a large country house loomed ahead, and David glimpsed tall chimneys against the sky.
They walked slowly on towards it.

A slit of light appeared, as a door in the side of the house opened a fraction. ‘Aztec,’ the captain said, quietly. The slit widened. David’s party was led up a short flight of
stone steps and through the door. They found themselves in a long corridor lined with pictures, blinking in sudden light. A young man in khaki uniform with a Union Jack sewn on the breast pocket
was posted at the end, a rifle over his shoulder. The corridor windows were all heavily curtained, the sort of thick material David remembered from the 1939–40 blackout. In the distance he
heard voices; this place was big, probably owned by some aristocrat who had come round to supporting the Resistance. A telephone rang somewhere in the depths of the building. It was answered
quickly.

The man who had opened the door was elderly, tall and thin, dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat, like a butler. He looked them over, then stepped forward with a smile. ‘Welcome,
gentlemen. Mr Fitzgerald?’

David stepped forward. ‘Yes?’

‘Could you take Dr Muncaster upstairs please? Mr Hall, could you come with me? Your account of what happened in London is needed.’

‘All right,’ Ben said. ‘See you soon, Frank.’ Ben followed the man away down the corridor. The captain accompanied them. The man with the Union Jack on his uniform
stepped forward, addressing David and Frank in a friendly tone with a strong Welsh accent: ‘Come with me, please.’ He turned to the uniformed men. ‘You chaps, go outside and
someone will show you where to park your truck and bunk down.’

He led David and Frank down the corridor to a hallway with a wide central staircase. Through a half-open door David glimpsed furniture covered with white dustsheets. Another man in a uniform
with a Union Jack and a rifle joined them. They walked upstairs. From behind a closed door nearby they heard a murmur of male voices; another telephone rang somewhere. David guessed this place was
some sort of headquarters. The reports of Hitler’s death would be causing a flap.

David and Frank were shown into a large bedroom, again with heavily curtained windows. There was a double bed and a pair of camp beds on the floor. ‘Keep the curtains closed please,’
the Welshman said, his tone still amicable. ‘There’s a toilet just up the corridor. We’ll have some food brought up. Mr Hall will join you later. I’m Barry, by the
way.’ He was the first person they had met since their rescue who had given them his name.

‘Can you tell us where we are?’ David asked.

‘No, sorry,’ Barry answered apologetically. ‘Not now. Is there anything else you need?’

Frank said, ‘I’m supposed to have my – my medicine, to help me sleep. I need it. Ben knows about it.’

The Welshman nodded. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’ He smiled. ‘Have you heard the news?’

‘The rumours that Hitler’s dead? Yes.’

‘It’s more than rumours. German radio say Goebbels is the new Führer. Maybe things are going to happen now, eh?’

When he left the room Frank sat down wearily on the bed. ‘What d’you think of that?’ David asked.

‘I don’t know if I believe it.’ Frank scratched his chest. ‘I feel bad. I can’t stop thinking about Geoff, seeing him on the ground. And Sean and Eileen. I nodded
off in the truck, but the pictures that came into my mind . . . He put his head in his hands.

David sat beside him. He looked at his watch; it was past one in the morning. He felt exhausted, and suddenly angry with Frank. Was it any worse for him than the rest of them? David knew that
what had happened tonight would affect him for the rest of his life. Assuming he survived. He looked at the top of Frank’s head, then thought, he didn’t volunteer for this the way the
rest of us did. He put a hand on his arm. ‘We’re safe now.’

Frank looked up. ‘Are we?’

There was a knock at the door and Barry returned. He had a tray with sandwiches on it, and also a glass of water and a bottle of pills. Frank’s eyes lit up. ‘This what you
need?’ Barry asked.