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me to make a slip like that . . . I assumed—”

“Just don’t do it again, and you’ll be all right. No need to make a confession to Mr. MacFarlane. Have a safe journey back.”

Bright saluted again. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“And please—Corporal Bright, there really is no need to salute. I am not in uniform, so it’s quite unnecessary.”

Maisie watched as the white-faced ATS driver reversed her vehicle back onto the driveway, then turned toward the gate andthe main road, on her way to collect Robert MacFarlane, who, it appeared, was accompanying a body back to London.

 

Maisie sat in the conservatory with Anna and Emma, the old Alsatian Maisie had rescued following the brutal murder of herowner two years previously. Anna and Emma had become inseparable, the dog accompanying her charge to school every day, andwaiting by the gate for her return. As Emma’s breathing began to falter, Anna lay beside her, her arms around the dog as herlife ebbed away. Maisie lifted the weeping child, while her father knelt down to wrap the animal in a white sheet. With herdaughter’s little body tight against her own as she sobbed, Maisie felt the pain of loss leach into her heart, and gave thanksfor the argument that had brought her home to her family sooner than planned.

The following morning, Maisie, Anna, Brenda and Priscilla stood alongside the grave Frankie Dobbs had prepared for his granddaughter’s beloved dog. It neighbored the place where he had laid his own dog, Jook, at the turn of the year. As he lowered Emma into the ground using the sheet and allowed it to fall across her body, Anna threw handfuls of petals from late-blooming roses onto the white linen, calling to Emma that she was the very best dog in the world and it was good that she had company because she was now with Jook and they could play together in the fields. With the impromptu funeral service complete and the grave filled in, a rosebush that promised scarlet blooms, come summer, was planted atop the grave according to Anna’s wishes—she had stipulated that the roses had to be a different color from those that would bud and open again next year on Jook’s grave.

“I’ll put the kettle on for a nice cup of coffee,” said Brenda. “And I’ve made some Eccles cakes—a treat for all of us, tocelebrate old Emma’s life.”

“I’m going with Grandad to see Lady before it rains again,” said Anna. “Grandad says a job of work is what we need, so we’regoing to do a job.”

Frankie winked at Maisie, then ruffled his granddaughter’s hair. “All right, love. Have you decided about the show? What doyou think about riding Lady?”

Anna shook her head. “I want to stay here, with you. And Lady’s sad about Emma, so she doesn’t want to go either.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Anna—we can all stay at home and tell stories about Emma if you like. Come back for somethingto drink soon, when you and Grandad have done your jobs.” Maisie watched as Anna took Frankie’s hand and they walked awayin the direction of the stables.

“That child scares me at times,” said Priscilla. “She’s upset, grieving, and she’s shed her tears, but she takes it all inher stride. I had a complete tantrum when I was that age and my dog died.”

“It’s a sad thing, when your child knows how to deal with death—but she’s had practice. And she will feel Emma with her.”

“That’s what worries me,” said Priscilla. “The thought of some ghostly canine roaming the house—brrrr, it gives me the shivers.Anyway, shall we get that cup of coffee? And look—I didn’t bring any gaspers with me. I’m taking your advice and giving upfilling my lungs with smoke . . . well, inasmuch as I can.”

Maisie smiled and shook her head in mock disbelief. She consulted her watch as they arrived at the kitchen, knowing that in all likelihood it was only a matter of time before the telephone started ringing and MacFarlane was shouting down the line from a mortuary somewhere in London. She wanted to speak to Billy first, so as soon as Priscilla left the house, she went straight to the privacy of the library.

 

“Billy—hello.”

“Miss—you’re back a bit early. Thought you wouldn’t be home until Friday.”

“Change of plan, Billy.”

“How’s the littl’un? I heard from Doreen that the dog was on its last.”

“Emma died last night, but Anna is taking it as well as can be expected. She planned a little funeral, so that helped her—andnow she’s with Dad. He’s lined up some jobs for her.”

“Bit of work never hurt anyone. Anyway, I’ve got some information on Freddie Hackett’s father, miss. Not a lot, because Icould do with more time.”

“Have you heard from Freddie?”

“Only once, from a telephone box yesterday. He sounded all right, but I was going to wander over to the school today, catchhim and have a word as he’s leaving.”

“Not a bad idea—but be careful. You don’t want his friends seeing you.”

“Reckon most of his friends are still evacuated. There’s not a lot of kids in that school.”

“So what did you find out?”

“Arthur Hackett, the father, was in the East Surrey Regiment in the last war. He was at Plugstreet Wood, then copped a Blighty a bit later on, but had a shock when they sent him back to join another regiment after he’d recovered—he thought he was out of the army and the war for good. He had some attitude about it, by all accounts. Got a temper on him too—he had a fight with an Australian while in the field hospital, then went for another bloke too. Poor soul survived a shelling and was almost killed by Hackett.”

“I saw both sides when I was a nurse, Billy—most of the men just did their best to help each other out, but there were somewho carried the weight of their wounding in anger.”

“Yeah, but I went a bit deeper and it turns out he’s got previous as long as your arm. Was discharged from prison early inthe

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