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

Outside the flat they caught their breath before Billy spoke.

“Bit close for comfort, wasn’t it, miss?”

Maisie held her hand against her chest. “Did you see the way he took the key from the letterbox and then opened the door?”

“Oh, a lot of people do that, miss—keep a key on a bit of string inside the letterbox. My old mum used to do it before shecame to live with us, you know, before she passed away. It meant that when I went round there I didn’t have to knock, I couldjust unlock the door and let myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant. Did you watch him work the key?”

“What d’you mean, miss?”

“Billy, we saw him stumbling along the road, apparently drunk as a lord. We helped him along, and when we arrived at the house it was with a certain dexterity that he pulled out the key, slipped it into the lock and turned it. Most drunks would have spent a good while trying to focus on the lock and trying to get the key into the slot. He went upstairs without missing a step. Yes, he knows his place, but those stairs are not solid. Then the knife.”

“He was quick, I’ll give you that,” said Billy.

“He was no more drunk than I am,” said Maisie.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, miss.”

“Well, perhaps he’d had one or two, but he was not as drunk as he pretended to be.”

“What do you think he’s up to?” Billy began to pat his pockets.

“That’s exactly what you should do, make sure you’ve still got your wallet!” Maisie stepped around a pothole in the pavement.“I think he has a few tricks up his sleeve, Billy—that’s why I wanted to follow him upstairs, to observe him. He can pretendto be drunk, just enough to gain some sympathy perhaps—look at us, we tried to help him.”

“Yeah, but we also wanted to have a word with him.”

“Granted. I bet he pulls that one every day and some poor soul loses a wallet or a watch or something. According to Graceit’s his specialty. He finds a mark, a solitary customer in a local pub, perhaps a soldier from another part of the countrywho’s new to London. He’ll engage them in conversation, and the next thing you know, they’re buying drinks and he’s keepingrelatively sober—not what you’d call ‘sober as a judge’ but enough to retain his balance and, more importantly, his reflexes.And then he’s slipped another wallet into his own pocket.”

“I wonder where the money goes, if he’s that good.”

“Probably on the real drinking, the habit he has when he’s on his own—that’s why he’s a danger to his family and probablyhimself. I wouldn’t mind betting he’s got a bottle or two of the hard stuff stashed at home, where he drinks and drinks andhas days when he cannot get out of those paltry rooms at all.”

“Nasty piece of work.”

Maisie stopped walking.

“Miss?”

“I was just thinking—it’s such a tragedy. When people drink like that, it’s the demons they’re trying to dull that make mewonder what on earth happened to them.” She looked at Billy. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Billy nodded and looked away. Her assistant’s once-blond hair was now almost gray under his flat cap, the lines across hisforehead deeper. “The white stuff? Yeah, I suppose I do. But I never lifted a hand to my family—they’re too precious to me,miss, and you know it. I just didn’t know what to do with the pictures in my mind or the pain in my legs. It’s well behindme now, though if truth be told, them pictures have never gone away.”

“I know, Billy.” She began walking again, Billy falling into step beside her. “We just have to do our best to let them fadeinto the shadows, then build a wall of new things in front of them.”

“Easier said than done, what with all this bombing—and my boys enlisted.”

Maisie realized she hadn’t asked about Billy’s sons lately. His eldest had survived Dunkirk; now it was the younger son, anapprentice aircraft engineer with the RAF, who was the cause of most concern.

“How’s Bobby? Doing well at the college?”

“Still looking to be a navigator on the bombers. He told me they’ve got a new one in the works, and he’s in line for trainingon it.” He shook his head. “They’ve already sent him up to Manchester so he can see what it’s all about. Of course, he saidhe can’t tell us much, but he made my head spin, going on about Merlin engines made by Rolls-Royce and that sort of thing.I tell you, that boy leaves me behind when he tells me about his work—and remember, I was in the Engineers in the last war,so I can generally keep up with that sort of talk. Not with Bobby though.”

“I’m sure it’s a feather in his cap, being chosen to learn something new.” Maisie tried to appear positive, though she knew why Billy wasn’t smiling.

“Not to me, miss. New bomber means more bombings and with bigger bombs. Then he’ll be going over there every night to bombGermany, won’t he? And look how many of them bomber crews come back—not many, eh? That would definitely drive me to drink,if I lost one of my boys. At least our Billy is having it jammy, out there in Singapore. I bet it’s all sun and getting inrounds of fancy drinks, with just a bit of square bashing in between. Mind you, good on the boy. He deserves it, after Dunkirk.”

Maisie and Billy walked on in silence until they reached the bus stop, where they would catch a bus to take them back to theWest End. Both were lost in their thoughts. There seemed nothing left to say, as if they knew any words would only take themback into the terrors of the last war, memories that could rise up from the dark shadows if they paid them too much attention.

Chapter 16

“Sandra, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at