The Consequences of Fear Jacqueline Winspear (i can read book club .txt) 📖

he wants to fly to the moon. He looks after her enough for her to have the baby well away from anyone who knows her, and then the next thing, she finds out he’s upped and married a nice young lady more fitting to his station in life. Meanwhile, with the money he’s ‘settled’ upon her running out fast, Freddie’s mum passes herself off as a widow and marries the first man who comes along and sees she’s got enough in her purse to treat him to a drink or two. But it’s rough for her because he turns out to be a bit of a nutter. They have another child, and that child is . . . well, you’ve seen her, poor little mite. Hackett senior doesn’t have a son of his own, but what he does have under his roof is two kids who are a reminder that he is a failure. And as we’ve already mentioned, he’s quick with his temper and even faster with his hands.”

“Oh, poor Grace.”

“Poor all of them. But I’ve heard from your Mr. Beale that you’ve swept in to the rescue.”

“I have the means and opportunity to lend a hand and I’ve an empty flat, so someone might as well use it.”

Caldwell nodded. “Good for you, Miss Dobbs. I’ll make sure our boys over at the local station walk past a bit more regularthan usual when they’re out on the beat. They could even pop in just to make sure.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“So, what will you do, Miss Dobbs?”

“Continue with my work, as I said. I believe Freddie. I believe that on this occasion he saw events unfold exactly as he describedthem to me.”

“I don’t doubt he saw them, Miss Dobbs. I just don’t think they happened. It’s all very delicate and that’s why I wanted tohave this here little chat, so I could tell you what we’ve done at this end, and what we found out. Now then, I haven’t gotall day. Must be getting on—which is what the missus says when she’s been listening to the wireless and dinner’s nowhere nearthe table.”

Maisie extended her hand toward Caldwell, who nodded in her direction and shook her hand. No words were spoken; there wasno need.

 

The conversation with Caldwell had thrown Maisie. Walking along the Embankment at a slow pace, she reconsidered everything that had happened since she received the call from Billy regarding Freddie Hackett. She held each image in her mind and aligned them like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, yet even though she pressed hard on those she thought should fit, the whole picture failed to emerge. She saw the scene of the murder, the items found at the site, her visit to the house where Freddie delivered a message to a man he maintained had scars—or at least deep lines—on his face. She reflected upon her journey to Scotland, meeting the Frenchman, Major André Chaput, and then the second murder. Yes, the second murder. She had to find out more—and she had no reason to believe that MacFarlane would help her at this juncture.

Taking a seat on a bench, Maisie closed her eyes, feeling another weight—that of doubt settling inside her as it preparedto take up residence, ready to sap her energy, slow her mental reflexes and bring down her defenses against that most powerfulof emotions: fear. And wasn’t there enough fear in the air, despite the fighting talk of politicians and despite the cheerystrength of Londoners who were doing their best to keep each other going every single day, surmounting it with humor, compassion,hard work, and an immersion in being busy? Fear, she thought, had a viscous quality to it, to the extent that you could evenfeel it in your feet as you were running to the shelter; a burden slowing you down, despite the fact that you were movingas fast as your legs could carry you. Fear was sticky, like flypaper, something to steer clear of as you went about your business,because if you were sucked into that long banner of worry, you would be like an insect with wings adhered and feet stuck,never to escape. Fear was the scariest of emotions and it nestled there, growing ever stronger and sprouting shoots, a seedin the fertile soil of doubt.

Once again she drew upon her early lessons, reaching back into the foundations of her work to answer the question of what lay before her. “Go back to the facts, Maisie. Return to the question of information,” Maurice had counseled. “When the way forward is not clear, perhaps there is a need for discovery. Identify new sources, Maisie, and go toward them.” She allowed her eyes to close, turning her head toward the sun’s beams and for a moment banishing the acrid smell of smoke that hung in the air. Sounds of the city became fainter, and a light sleep enveloped her.

“Sorry to bother you, madam, but is this seat taken?”

Startled, Maisie gasped and began to apologize.

“Oh, it’s me who should be apologizing.” The man sat down at the other end of the bench as Maisie came to her feet. “And pleasedo not leave on account of my arrival here. I won’t disturb you; I have my reading matter.” He held up a paperback book.

“No, no—sorry—it’s not you. I just have to be on my way to see someone. Really, you did me a favor, waking me up.”

She thanked the man and walked on, increasing her pace to a run. She knew exactly where she was going and what she would dowhen she arrived at her destination. She was returning to the task of gathering the facts, building a cache of informationand while doing so, remaining alert to the possibility that she might encounter that nugget of illumination that would changeeverything.

 

Crossing the road in the direction of the nearest telephone kiosk, Maisie decided it would be best to place a call first, especially as Dr. Elsbeth Masters might be in the midst of another attempt at retirement. All