Kate Kingsbury - Death Is in the Air

According to the news report, soldiers from the camp in nearby Beerstowe had joined the local constabulary in a manhunt, and residents of the village were warned to stay away from the woods, where the pilot was suspected of having gone to ground.

Aware that Violet was talking to her, Elizabeth tore her gaze from the newspaper. “I beg your pardon?”

Violet crossed her arms. “I was asking if you and your major will be having dinner in the dining room tonight. What’s in that paper that’s so interesting, anyway?”

Elizabeth read the report out loud. “I feel sorry for the poor man,” she said when she was finished. “He looked so young, hardly more than a boy, and he was obviously terrified.”

“I should think so. I’d be terrified, too, if I saw Rita Crumm and her mob rushing at me. Enough to scare Hitler hisself, that woman.” Violet tilted her head to one side. “You never answered me about your major.”

“He’s not my major, Violet.” Elizabeth folded the newspaper and laid it next to her knife. “And I’d appreciate it if you would stop calling him that. You know how impressionable Polly is-I really don’t want any silly gossip going around. Especially now that Major Monroe is staying at the manor.”

Violet nodded. “So is he coming to dinner or not?”

“I haven’t asked him yet.”

“Well, would you mind getting on with it? That’s where you should be eating your meals, anyway. It isn’t proper for a lady of the manor to be taking her meals with the servants in the kitchen.”

Elizabeth sighed at the familiar argument. “You know very well how much I hate eating all alone at that enormous table in the dining room. Besides, as you also know very well, I don’t think of you and Martin as servants. I consider you both family.”

Violet’s cheeks turned pink. “That’s lovely, Lizzie, but your mother wouldn’t like that.”

“She wouldn’t like you calling me Lizzie, either, but since she’s not here, and I am, I think we can stop worrying about her approval and just do what we think is right.”

“If you say so.” Violet looked inordinately pleased. “Now, about dinner tonight. I need to know what to buy at the butcher’s this morning. Thank goodness we still have enough coupons left in the ration books for a decent meal.”

Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I’ll try to catch the major before he leaves for the base. They all came back late last night, and I didn’t like to ask him then.”

“I know, I heard them. Them bloody water pipes were making such a racket I wonder they didn’t wake the dead. No wonder poor old Martin thought he saw a ghost.”

“I suppose we really should get them seen to, now that Major Monroe’s men are using the east wing bathroom. I didn’t think anyone would be using it again after Mummy and Daddy died.”

“Maybe your major could ask one of his men to take a look at the pipes.”

“He’s not-” Elizabeth began, but Violet interrupted her.

“I know, he’s not your major. Ask him anyway. Here’s your porridge. Eat it while it’s hot.” She dumped a steaming plate of creamed oatmeal in front of Elizabeth.

“I’m sure the American officers have enough to do defending our skies against German bombers.” Elizabeth picked up her spoon. “We’ll have to find someone ourselves.”

“Then you’ll have to go into North Horsham to find a plumber. There are precious few men left in Sitting Marsh, and not one of them would know how to fix a water pipe.”

Violet was right , Elizabeth thought gloomily. Most of the men in the village had been called up or had volunteered for the forces, and those who were left were either too old or too busy with their own businesses to help out with anything short of an emergency.

Her gaze wandered to the newspaper headlines again. The only constabulary left in Sitting Marsh were two elderly men dragged out of retirement to replace those who had joined up to fight for their country. George and Sid did their best, but apprehending a desperate enemy pilot went far beyond their meager capabilities. She could only hope the army routed out the man quickly, before panic spread among the villagers.

She had almost finished her porridge when the telephone jangled loudly across the kitchen, making Violet drop the saucepan she was drying onto the tiled kitchen counter.

“Blasted telephone,” Violet grumbled as she reached for it. “I wish there was some way we could turn down the noise it makes. I jump every time it rings.” She held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

Elizabeth watched her face for some clue as to who might be ringing at this early hour. To her dismay, she heard Violet gasp. “Go on! No, I don’t believe it. Yes, of course I’ll tell her. Oh, my Gawd, what dreadful news!”

On her feet now, Elizabeth stared at Violet as she replaced the receiver and turned slowly to face her. All kinds of scenarios raced through her mind… the uppermost being the possibility that the Germans had launched the long-expected invasion. She waited, afraid to ask the question that hovered on her lips.

“You’re never going to believe this,” Violet said hoarsely, “but that was Marlene. She wanted to warn Polly. That scared young German pilot you felt so sorry for has gone and killed one of the land girls from Macclesby’s farm. They just found her dead body in Hawthorn Woods.”

Polly sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her brow. Scrubbing bathrooms was the thing she hated most about her job. She often wondered why she didn’t pack it in and go down to the canning factory. From what the other girls said, working there was a lot of fun. ’Course, she’d have to lie about her age. You had to be seventeen to work at the factory, and she was only fifteen. But then she was used to lying about her age. She’d been doing it for almost two years down at the pub, and only last week she’d lied to that nice Yank she’d met. Told him she was twenty. He’d believed her, too.

Polly smiled as she wrung out her mop. Good-looking, that Sam. Had to be at least twenty-four. Stolen her heart right away he had, with his dark-brown bedroom eyes and that thick, black, curly hair. Proper man all right. She’d had to lie about her job, too. She didn’t want him thinking she was just a crummy servant. She’d told him she was Lady Elizabeth’s secretary. Good job he couldn’t see her now, on her knees scrubbing the loo.

She leaned forward again and swiped the washrag around the pedestal of the toilet bowl. One day, she promised herself fiercely, she’d be living like a lady, too, with a secretary and a housekeeper and a butler to open the door. Only her butler would have a lot more gumption than wheezy old Martin, she’d make sure of that.

The sound of male laughter drifted down the hallway, freezing her hand. Yanks. So far she hadn’t seen so much as a glimpse of Sam since he’d moved in with the others a week ago.

She’d been shocked to find out he was one of the officers billeted at the manor. Marlene had warned her that once Sam found out how she’d been lying to him, he’d never speak to her again. Marlene thought she knew everything, just because she was her older sister. Well, Polly told herself as she quickly gathered up her mop and bucket, Sam wasn’t going to find out she’d been lying. She’d managed to keep out of sight of the Yanks for a week now, and she’d go on doing it as long as she had a chance with the most gorgeous man she’d ever set eyes on. And like she told Marlene, she’d keep on lying to him until he was so madly in love with her he wouldn’t care when she finally told him the truth.

The voices drew closer, and before the men could round the corner she slipped out of the bathroom and through the door that led to the back stairs.