“Take a look at what they’ve brought us, while you’re at it,” David said. “Food and drink of the gods.”
“We’ll need to be sure Edgar doesn’t keep the drink to himself,” she said, leaving the room.
“Very kind of Meredith to be so accommodating,” I said to David as he escorted Big Mike to his room. “She seems different now that her father’s gone.”
“Yes, she does,” David agreed. “Odd duck, our Meredith. Here you go, Big Mike,” he said, opening the door to a room next to mine.
“How did you hear about a ship being sunk?” I asked as we waited for Big Mike to stow his bag.
“From Crawford,” he said. “He mentioned that you and Piotr went out early after receiving a call, something to do with a German attack on a convoy, I think. He was going to go out fishing and telephoned a friend of his on a shore battery to find out if it was safe.”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering the snatch of pre-dawn conversation. “A cousin, I think.”
“That’s right,” David said as Big Mike shut his door behind him. “I assumed that was still your assignment. All right, let’s get those sandwiches organized. So sorry Helen isn’t about to meet our new guest. She hasn’t been herself lately. I think her father’s death has had more of an effect on her than she let on.” I followed as David led us downstairs, not wanting to stick my nose in and ask what he and Crawford had been arguing about. Besides, Kaz would do that in his own way.
In the kitchen Williams and Mrs. Dudley were ohhhing and ahhhing over the rations we’d brought along. Meredith and Edgar were there, too, along with Crawford, who was leaning against a counter smoking a cigarette, having already opened the carton of Chesterfields.
“Sugar!” Mrs. Dudley said, feeling the heft of the package. “I haven’t seen this much sugar since before the war. Thank you, gentlemen. Oh, I must finish packing your lunch!” She scurried off, wiping her hands on her apron.
“It wasn’t necessary, Baron Kazimierz,” Meredith said. “But it is appreciated.” It was funny how people in this house usually addressed such comments to Kaz exclusively. Their types much preferred talking to a baron over a mere American captain. Hey, who could blame them? Kaz would always be a baron, but when this war was over, I’d be a cop again, relegated to the back door of any place as fancy as this on Beacon Hill. Still, Meredith had treated Big Mike nicely, reserving her cutting remarks for her own husband, and that had to count for something. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Edgar inspect the Scotch as Meredith supervised the stocking of the larder.
“Let’s leave that for drinks tonight, shall we?” she said, a disapproving eyebrow raised in her husband’s direction.
“I’ll take the bottles to the library,” Edgar said, not exactly agreeing or disagreeing.
“Have you seen Helen?” David asked, pulling Meredith’s attention away from Edgar, who was walking away from her, bottles clinking in his hands.
“She went out for some air,” Meredith said. “She mentioned something about creditors upsetting her. Well, that’s what they do, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure it will all turn out fine in the end,” David said, directing a reassuring smile at Williams and Crawford. No reason to let the help know about financial problems, even in such a progressive house as Ashcroft, I figured.
“Have you set a date for the funeral?” Kaz asked. “We would like to attend, duties permitting.”
“In two days,” Meredith said. “Thank you. That is most kind. I know Father enjoyed your company, as well as yours, Captain Boyle. I do hope you can be there.”
“Don’t worry about that, ma’am,” Big Mike said. “You tell us where and when, and I’ll make sure they get there on time.”
“How nice of you, Sergeant,” Meredith said. “Ten o’clock, St. Peter’s in North Cornworthy. It’s the only church in the village. We’re very C of E around here. Church of England, I mean,” she added for benefit of us outsiders.
“We’ll do our best,” I said, noticing that Meredith was warming to Big Mike as easily as any crusty old general at SHAEF. “But now we should see Lady Pemberton and pay our respects. Is she in her sitting room?”
“Yes, go on up,” Meredith said. “The poor dear is exhausted, so please don’t tire her out. I think the events of the past few days have had their effect on her.” She wished us well and returned to her list of US Army rations.
Upstairs, we knocked on Great Aunt Sylvia’s sitting-room door. She beckoned us in with a weak voice, and we found her sitting in an overstuffed armchair by the window, a blanket on her lap. She did look tired, and quite pale as well.
“Ah, visitors,” she said, her eyes still holding a twinkle of life. “How nice. Baron Kazimierz, Captain Boyle, who do you have with you?”
“Sergeant Michael Miecznikowski, Lady Pemberton,” Big Mike said, giving her a bow that wouldn’t have been out of place at a society shindig. “I’m afraid I will be taking advantage of your hospitality for a few days. Official business; I hope you don’t mind.”
“What exactly is your business, young man?”
“Keeping these two officers out of trouble. It’s a full-time job, Lady Pemberton.”
“So I imagine, Sergeant. What did you say your name was again?” She squinted, as if she was having trouble seeing.
“Don’t even try, ma’am. I answer to Sarge or Big Mike, which is what General Eisenhower himself calls me.”
“Big Mike,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “If ever a name fit the man, yours does. You Americans always seem so large in comparison to our English boys. Thin and pasty, many of them, while you are so fit and tanned. Even our soldiers often look puny in comparison. Boys of eighteen have been living with rationing since they were thirteen years old, raised without proper foods. There are young children in the village who have never seen an orange. Small wonder that our servicemen are often engulfed by their uniforms.” She waved a hand across her face as if banishing the image from her mind. “But my manners-please, sit down, and tell me what happened so early this morning.”
“We only have a few minutes,” I said, sitting on a couch next to Kaz while Big Mike tested the limits of a chair across from Lady Pemberton. “We’re looking for survivors from a ship that was torpedoed out in Lyme Bay. Some senior officers haven’t been accounted for yet.”
“We hope they’ve been picked up by one of the rescue vessels,” Kaz said, which didn’t sound too much like a lie.
“I think Crawford went out in his boat,” she said. “I seem to recall seeing him from my window, bicycling out shortly after you left. That was today, wasn’t it? I get up before the cock crows these days, and I think I watched all of you leave … Yes, this morning; it must have been. You’ll have to excuse my memory. This isn’t one of my better days.”
“Crawford didn’t mention going out,” I said, watching Great Aunt Sylvia furrow her brow, worrying as she tried to remember the early morning events.
“Apparently he heard from some relative who saw the explosion. He thought it was close enough in that he might find men still alive in the water. But the navy turned him away, saying it was restricted. From what Crawford reports, they have enough boats out and about.”
“Good of him to try,” Kaz said.
“Indeed,” Great Aunt Sylvia said, stifling a yawn. “I mustn’t keep you gentlemen from your duties. It was very nice to meet you, Big Mike. Good luck to you.” Her eyelids fluttered, and she seemed about to nod off to sleep. She managed a wave before her hand dropped limply in her lap.
“Nice lady,” Big Mike said as we walked downstairs.
“She’s a firecracker,” I said, pointing to her portrait on the staircase. “That’s her.”