No Known Grave (14 page)

“That’s not a nice thing to say!” burst out Daisy. She stepped over to the little man and took him by the hand. “Cream bun? Yum.” She patted his stomach, then touched her fingers to his lips. Bhatti smiled, said something incomprehensible, and nodded.

“See,” said Daisy. “He understood that.”

The Gurkha held out his arm, indicating he was ready for the lead they used for the blind patients.

“Good, he’s coming.”

“Hey, Daise, I said I want to go on the tandem,” protested Eddie. “We can’t both get on it. Somebody has to steer.”

“Bhatti can walk with Jeremy and me. Vic can go with you.”

“No offence, Vic, but you’re not the steadiest of leaders. Last time we almost ended up in the river. Daisy, come on, be an angel and you ride.”

“Sort it out, children,” said Melrose. “I’ll meet you at the shop.”

He strode off, tipping his hat ostentatiously to the constable on guard at the gate.

Vic gestured that he was going to get the bicycle and limped slowly to a shed by the gate.

“Daisy, are we going or not?” asked Jeremy, shifting impatiently in his chair.

“Coming,” she answered. “We’re taking Bhatti.”

“Jeez. Do we have to? I was hoping for a private conversation with you.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows. “He won’t understand what you say. It’s as good as private.” But she could see he was put out. Vic returned, leaning on the handlebars of the tandem for balance.

“Would it be possible to take Bhatti with you and Eddie?” Daisy asked him. “As long as you don’t go too fast, he can trot alongside. He likes that.”

Eddie heard her and called out. “Daisy, will you stop fussing over everybody. I want to go very fast, like the frigging wind. He won’t be able to keep up.”

More sounds from Vic, who was nodding his head at Daisy, making clear he would take charge and it was all right for Bhatti to go with them.

“Vic has said he can go with you, Eddie, so you’ll have to put up with him.”

Prescott swore under his breath. “Bloody hell. Let’s go then.”

Vic brought the tandem close so Eddie could get on. The bicycle had been made especially for the hospital by a local merchant, and the low frame was designed for a woman. Easier to get on. There was a short piece of leather with a loop at one end, dangling from the handlebars. Vic reached for Bhatti and pulled him over so he could fasten the lead to his wrist. The little man complied readily and stood waiting for the next signal. He was used to this method of getting around.

“Do you want help getting on the bike, Vic?” Daisy asked.

Clark shook his head, put his cane in the basket on the front handlebars, and with a groan swung one leg through and sat on the saddle. Eddie followed suit with the rear seat and clutched the rear handlebars.

“Fire the torpedoes, Vic,” he called out. “Officer, open the gate if you please.”

The constable addressed Daisy. “How long will you be gone, miss?”

“Only about forty minutes. Inspector Tyler has given us permission.”

The constable swung open the gate.

Initially, the tandem wobbled violently, but Clark righted it and they rode out to the road. Bhatti trotted right beside the bicycle. He knew to keep a tension on the lead so he wouldn’t bump into them.

“Whoopee,” shouted Prescott.

The threesome turned onto the road.

Daisy returned to the wheelchair and took the handles. “Sorry, Jeremy. They’re off now. We can talk.”

Bancroft didn’t respond immediately but waved her on. As the others had done, they passed through the west gate and turned onto the road heading for the bridge into town. There was a thin rope threaded among the hedges for the blind patients to follow if they felt like being more independent. On the other side of the river loomed the walls of the ruined castle. In spite of everything, Daisy could feel her mood lifting ever so slightly. The brightness of the light made it easier for her to see. Even the few roadside flowers were distinct enough for her to recognize them. Orange wood anemones and buttercups, a scatter of blue borage.

“I can hear the sound of the weir,” said Bancroft. “Can we stop here?”

Daisy guided the wheelchair to the side of the road and put on the brake.

Bancroft reached for his shirt pocket.

“Daisy, will you read a letter for me? I just want to confirm something.”

“Course I will.”

He pulled out an envelope.

“It’s from Lydia,” he said. “She dabs eau de cologne all over her letters because she thinks that way I’ll know they’re from her.” His shoulders sagged. “Some other guy might think that’s cute. Not me. I feel like a dog having to sniff out the prize.”

“Jeremy. Don’t be silly. She doesn’t mean that at all. A lot of girls do what Lydia does.”

“Open it, please, Daisy.”

“Are you sure? It’s from your fiancée. Perhaps one of the orderlies should read it to you.”

He burst out laughing. “Oh, Daisy, sweet innocent Daisy. Do you think my fiancée is writing me dirty letters so I’ll get all hot and bothered and have wet dreams every night?”

Daisy didn’t answer. He couldn’t see that she had blushed at the crude language, so unlike him. She tore open the envelope. There was one piece of paper inside. The handwriting was large and sprawling.

Dearest Jeremy
,

I can’t believe that after all this time, I finally got a 48-hour pass and promise of a lift as far as Shrewsbury. I will take the first train from there to Ludlow. This means I should be at the hospital by early afternoon Tuesday. I can hardly wait to see you, my darling. I hope you get this letter in time, but if you don’t I shall surprise you. All my love, your own Lydia

“I didn’t see any visitors yesterday,” exclaimed Daisy. “Didn’t she come?”

Bancroft banged his fist on the armrest of the chair. “Oh, she came all right. She arrived after lunch. Sister Clarissa is a great believer in the healing power of fresh air, as you know, so us wheelies and blindies were trundled out to various parts of the garden. You said you were going to help with Babs and you left me with Hughes. He took me to the front garden, then he buggered off to tend to some other helpless sod.”

His voice was more bitter than Daisy had ever heard it, and she instinctively put her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off. “Don’t pat me, Daisy. I might bite.”

“Jeremy!”

“Sorry, it’s just … Anyway, as I was saying, here I was in the fresh air with a nice breeze, sound of bees buzzing all around. I decided I need some sun so I took off my shirt to get a bit of a tan. It felt good and I must have dozed off, but I woke up suddenly to the sound of the gate opening. I could tell somebody was walking in my direction. There was the click of shoes. Woman’s shoes. ‘Hiya,’ I calls. ‘Who is it?’ There was no answer. ‘That you, Shirley?’ says I, thinking she was the only one who would be wearing shoes like that. Still no answer. Whoever it was came closer, then stopped within a few feet of me. ‘Identify yourself,’ I said. ‘Friend or foe?’ Trying to be funny.” Bancroft shifted again. “There was a bit of a snuffle, like the woman was blowing her nose. Then the footsteps retreated. Faster this time. In fact, I’d guess she was running. I heard the gate again as it opened and my visitor left.”

“Jeremy, you’re saying it was Lydia?”

“It was her all right. I caught a whiff of the scent she had drenched herself with. She reeked of eau de cologne, the same as the letter.”

“But why didn’t she speak to you?”

“Because, my dear girl, she had the opportunity to see what I looked like as I lay there in all my nakedness. She’d come to the hospital shortly after the crash, but at that time I was invisible in the bandages. White, clean bandages that give away nothing. She could have had no idea what has happened to me. What she would be saddled with if we were to marry. As Melly might put it, she came, she saw, but she couldn’t conquer – her own revulsion. I’m sure that in the next few days, I shall receive another letter calling off our engagement. All very sorrowful and ‘It’s for the best’ sort of thing. But the truth is, I’m too hideous to be married to.”

Daisy rested her cheek on top of his head.

“Looks aren’t everything. People have to get used to us, that’s all.”

This time it was his turn to pat her arm. “Keep thinking like that, little Daise. Keep thinking like that.”

22.

N
IGEL
M
ELROSE WAS ALREADY WAITING OUTSIDE
De Greys. The tandem riders and Bhatti were panting from the climb up the steep hill.

“Too late,” Melrose called to them. “You chaps were too slow. They had only one cream bun left and I ate it.”

“Greedy sod,” said Prescott. “I fancied one of those, I did.”

Melrose laughed and whipped out a brown paper bag from behind his back.

“Gotcha! In fact, chaps, I bought the last six. I thought given our ordeal we deserved them more than the local Luddites.” He turned and pointed at the clock on St. Laurence’s church. “Time moves apace. I suggest we all stroll up to the square and nab a bench. Eddie, you can stand us tea from the Castle Café. Okay?”

“I didn’t bring any money with me.”

“No matter; they are only too keen to give it to us for free. We’re heroes in their eyes. If not, we can owe them. After all, we’re not hard to find, are we? Follow me, you happy band.”

They started towards the square. Eddie was walking beside the bicycle, holding on to the rear saddle, and Bhatti was still tethered to the handlebars. Vic was wheeling the machine, leaning on it for support. Nigel was slightly in front. All of them, even Bhatti, were wearing their dark glasses. As the group went by a seedy looking pub across from the church, two young men in farm dungarees and tweed caps emerged. Even at this hour and with war restrictions, they’d somehow got a good start on inebriation. One of them guffawed loudly.

“Hey, Bill. Look at this lot. You’d think they was film stars, wouldn’t ya?”

His friend, who had more manners and knowledge, tried to hush him up. “They’re from the hospital, Wilf. Them’s pilots. They’s blind.”

That seemed to irk the young lout. “Gives ’em an easy crib, don’t it? Get waited on hand and foot, I wouldn’t wonder. Girls lie down for them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ain’t just pretending.”

The four St. Anne’s residents were directly across from them now.

“Keep going, chaps. Don’t get drawn,” said Nigel.

Eddie turned his head. “How many are there, Melly?”

“Two. And that’s one too many. Keep walking.”

But Eddie stopped, holding on to the bike so that both Vic and Bhatti were forced to stop as well.

“Hey, fellas,” Eddie called in the direction of the two men. “Do you wanna take on a blindie? I’ll play fair. I’ll take on the two of you at the same time. Give you an advantage.”

Nigel put his hand on Prescott’s arm. “Don’t be an idiot, Eddie. They’re arseholes. They’ll step on you soon as spit. Ignore them.”

It was too late. Perhaps the two farm boys didn’t believe that Eddie was truly blind, perhaps they were too drunk to care.

The one called Wilf snickered. “That’s a nice little black boy you’ve got there, mister. Keeps you warm at night, does he?”

“Don’t be silly,” said the other man. “You’d have trouble finding him in the blackout. I suppose they have to feel for each other.”

Bhatti turned to the sound of the voices.

“Lookee, Bill. He’s on a leash. I do that with my bitch when she’s in heat. ’S that why he’s tied up?”

What happened next took everybody by surprise. Eddie grabbed Vic’s cane from the basket, took two steps forward,
and held it double-handed in front of him, like a sword. Wilf didn’t have time to jump back, and the stick caught him across the side of the throat. He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, gasping and choking. Eddie continued to swing wildly, shouting.

“Sodding bastards. How’d you like these apples?”

The other man stepped back in alarm. Both Melrose and Clark grabbed Eddie and pulled him away.

“Calm down, Eddie. Calm down,” said Melrose. “These pieces of shite aren’t worth it.”

Prescott was almost crying. “Let me at them. Sodding bastards. I’ll show them, Melly. I’ll show them.”

“Sure you will, scout, but later. Leave it be for now.”

Wilf was sitting up, still clutching at his neck. His pal helped him to his feet.

The proprietor of the tavern had run out at the sound of the skirmish. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he shouted at the two farm boys. “These men have sacrificed a lot for their country.”

“They’re loonies, the lot of them,” said his pal as they limped away.

The publican turned to address the four St. Anne’s men. “My apologies, lads. And to think we’re fighting a war for the likes of them lot. Look, why don’t you come in and have a pint on me.”

“Don’t mind if we do,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“Who’s that?” Eddie asked.

“It’s Bhatti,” answered Melrose. “He seems to have got his English back.”

Speaking in his finest plummy voice, he thanked the landlord but said they’d come back another day for their free pint when the company was more convivial. The landlord didn’t press them.

With Vic and Eddie riding slowly, the group proceeded back to St. Anne’s. Bhatti had been released from his tether and Melrose had linked arms to guide him. The little Gurkha had lapsed back into Burmese and was chattering away excitedly to his uncomprehending friends – as if the sudden return of his English had never happened.

Eddie didn’t speak until they reached the bottom of the hill. Here he burst out laughing. “I’d say that was a jolly good show, wouldn’t you, lads?”

“You certainly showed your killer instinct, Mr. Prescott. Which I always knew was there, seeing where you were spawned,” said Melrose.

Eddie growled. “Sweet suffering Jesus, Melly. I thought for a minute you’d lost your fangs. Obviously not.”

As they approached the gate at St. Anne’s, Eddie reached out and felt for Vic’s shoulder.

“Thanks, mate.” He squeezed hard. “I have to tell you, I was ready to fight. Fight to the death, if truth be told. Being blind is driving me mad.”