Tim Binding - Island Madness

“What?”

“You were seen tipping her down a shaft!”

“I never tipped no one down a shaft. And I ain’t no murderer.”

“Not much you aren’t, trying to get us all killed.” He touched Albert on the arm. “What would Kitty have thought of all this, Uncle? She’d have hated it.”

At the mention of her name, Albert grew contrite.

“I was seized by the wrongness of it, all the wickedness here on this one bit of rock.”

“You didn’t kill her?”

“On my Rose’s grave, I didn’t. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have if I had to. But I didn’t. So.” He drew himself up, ready to be marched downstairs. “What am I to do now?”

“Dismantle it. He’s not coming.”

“Not coming?” Albert was indignant.

“He’s got another engagement.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a policeman. I’ve been told.”

“I suppose I’m under arrest, then. That’ll be one for the record books. A nephew arresting his own uncle.”

“I can’t arrest you for trying to blow up Adolf Hitler, can I?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“There’s another reason. I’m taking your advice, making a run for it.”

“To England!” Albert gripped Ned’s arm. “When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’ll be there by morning!”

“I bloody well hope so.”

“You’ll go see our Kitty.”

“Only if you promise to keep out of mischief.”

“Look after her, Ned. She’s all I’ve got.”

“Ifyou look after Mum.”

“I’ll move in with her, if you like. I’ve had it with this lot.”

Ned walked down the stairs. His uncle followed, rubbing his duster along the balustrade as he went. A few minutes ago he was prepared to blow Guernsey to ashes. Now he was back polishing the woodwork. He’s going to escort me to the front door too, Ned thought, wish me good luck. Offer me some friendly advice.

“One thing, Uncle. I still don’t understand where you got the custard from.”

Albert rolled up his trouser leg. There was a yellowish bruise and the line of a badly healed cut.

“It were me that broke into van Dielen’s yard that night. My foot went through one of their containers. It were ruil of them. So I took a couple, sort of farewell treat. Gave one to your mother.”

“No more than two?”

“What would I want with any more? I weren’t planning to take a bath in the stuff.” He looked up to the ceiling. “Though I know of some as might.”

A picture came to Ned, of George Poidevin standing atop a pile of half-opened containers.

“Did you open any more crates?”

“Why should I do that?”

“To see what else you could find? To make it look like the foreigns had been there.”

“Foreigns wouldn’t bother to open crates. They see enough of what’s inside crates as it is. Anyway…” He stopped. “Ah, what’s the use. Go on, be off with you. And don’t you worry about the bomb.”

“You won’t try to blow up any Germans?”

“I won’t blow up any Germans.” He wiped his hand on his apron. “You row safely, now. The sea is a treacherous beast.”

“I’ll row safely.”

“And be careful of the milk over there. It curdles in the stomach, the muck the English drink.”

They all tried to get some sleep for the rest of that afternoon, the Major and the boy sleeping on his mother’s bed, Ned lying half awake on his own, listening to his mother and Veronica below. Then in the darkness the door opened quietly. Veronica slipped in under the blanket.

“V,” he whispered, “Mum’s downstairs.”

“I don’t care. Neither does she.”

She snuggled in and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t want to…not after…”

“No.”

“I will in time, though. When you get back. You will be coming back, won’t you, Ned? I couldn’t bear it now, if you didn’t.”

“V!”

“Sometimes I feel bad about it all, Tommy and the Captain. Gerald too, of course.” She sat up on her arms. “Do you know, until just now I’d forgotten all about Gerald. And I thought he was going to be my passport to a better life. That’s all I ever wanted, a better life.” She pulled his hair gently. “Do you mind about the others?”

“I do a bit.”

“I had my eye on the Major too, you know.” She laughed and rolled over onto the pillow. “God, you must have thought me a fooi.”

“You just got carried away, V, that’s all. Lost your sense of balance.”

“Well, I’m back on my feet now.”

“You’re not on your feet at all.”

He made to lean over. Veronica pushed him back.

“Just you lie be. In my arms.”

When they woke it was dusk. She got up, lit the candle and bent to the mirror, running a quick line of lipstick round her mouth. She caught Ned’s face in the mirror, watching her, his hands behind his head. It was like a marriage almost.

“I did what you asked,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Dreamt of you.”

She threw back the blanket. “Come on, rise and shine. We’ve no time for that now. We best get that fat on you.”

She put her hands on her hips while he stripped, then rubbed the cold grease over his body.

“I could get to like this,” she said.

He needed help putting his vest back on. She pulled it down hard and turned him around. She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his waist.

“Ned Luscombe,” she said.

“That’s my name.”

“If I squeeze you too hard you’ll pop out of your togs.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Actually we would.” She kissed him. “I’d better go. It’s the first performance tonight. We can’t all do vanishing acts.”

She left without any further fuss, a kiss, a long silent embrace, another kiss, quick and wet with tears, and then a hurried clatter down the stairs. Ned watched as she half ran down the garden path, puiling her coat around her shoulders. He hoped she might turn, wave to him, blow him a kiss, but she did not. She shut the little wooden gate and, head down, set her face against the wind. Then the space where she had been was empty. Veronica was gone.

Albert climbed the stairs. He felt tired and stiff. The town was empty. He could hear the faint noise of the music hall band coming from the theatre a few streets away. Mrs H. would be there, half the town too. There was no one to disturb him here. All he had to do was to extract the detonator. The rest he could dismantle in dribs and drabs. He was glad now that he didn’t have to do it. Since knowing Ned would be seeing Kitty, it was as if a boil had been lanced. He’d always hoped that Ned and Kitty would get together. Rose had maintained that Ned wasn’t Kitty’s type, she was too serious for him, too old fashioned. “Wait till he settles down,” Albert used to tell her. “He’ll see reason. She’s one in a million, our Kitty.” Yes. Perhaps in the months to come he’ll get another letter from the mainland. He could just imagine what it might say. Guess what, Dad. Ned and I are getting …

He opened the door and walked over the creaking wooden floor. Beside the unwashed window stood his lovely dangerous bomb cloaked in its paper mask. It would have worked. He laid the drainpipe down carefully and fetched out the clockwork mechanism. The wires were still in place. His hands were trembling. Suddenly, at the far end, the door to the storeroom at the back was pushed open and a man’s broad back emerged, with a snort and a rattle as he turned.

“Tommy?”

The big man gave a start. There was a crash and something metallic started to roll across the floor towards him.

“Mr Luscombe? What in blazes are you doing here?”

The object came to a rest against the toe of his boot. Albert picked it up. It gleamed in the dark.