The Forgotten Village. Lorna Cook

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СКАЧАТЬ enough for a formal photo, but the hand that was holding Veronica’s was clenched; as if he were holding on to her far too tightly. Melissa tried to see past his ridiculous good looks and wondered if he didn’t have a bit of a domineering edge to him.

      Melissa peered at Lady Veronica again and tried to work out Veronica’s expression. Her mouth was set in a straight line and her eyes were slightly wider than was normal, but there was something else …

      ‘Look at Lady Veronica,’ she said. ‘Look at her face. Does she seem a bit odd to you?’

      Guy looked. ‘Maybe. Perhaps she’s not happy having her picture taken?’

      Melissa wasn’t sure. She read the words that accompanied the picture to see what had happened to the couple after they had left Tyneham. It didn’t say. All the other boards had little stories about each family, but the Standishes had no information at all.

      ‘What happened to them after the requisition?’ she asked Guy. ‘It doesn’t say.’

      ‘Yes, I wondered that,’ he replied. ‘I’ll ask my gran, she might know.’

      Melissa turned back to the photograph of the couple. After a few seconds she’d worked out what the expression was on the woman’s face: fear.

      Lady Veronica Standish looked scared to death.

       CHAPTER 4

       Tyneham, December 1943

      ‘Hurry. Put that in there.’ Veronica threw her leather jewellery box through the air to her maid, Anna. Anna pushed it into one of the trunks that was open in the middle of the bedroom and looked up at her employer, ready to catch the next item. Veronica rifled in drawers and grabbed whatever she could that she thought she could either use or sell.

      With nothing else flying through the air, Anna dashed past Veronica and yanked open the wardrobe doors, helping to pull clothes from rails and piling them into the middle of the room. Both women knew there was no time to sort, simply to stuff suitcases and trunks and get Veronica out.

      ‘I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.’ Veronica was breathless, quickly throwing fur stoles that she knew she’d get good money for into the trunks.

      ‘I understand. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go back to my parents after you’ve left. And then, in a few days, we’re all leaving the village anyway …’ Anna trailed off as she picked up a beige booklet from the floor. Her eyes were wide. ‘Why have you collected your ration book from Cook?’

      ‘I’ll need it,’ Veronica said.

      Anna frowned and put it inside the trunk.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ Veronica asked.

      ‘I don’t think that was a good idea. What if she tells Sir Albert you’ve got it?’

      ‘I told her I had to take a quick shopping trip to London. She can’t possibly know what I’m doing.’

      Anna looked worried. ‘Let’s hope not. Will you be going to London in the end? I mean, really?’

      ‘I don’t know where I’m going yet,’ Veronica said. ‘Anywhere will be better than here. I’ll get a hotel first near a station and then I’ll make plans to move on.’

      ‘Don’t write to me,’ Anna said. ‘He’ll know.’

      Veronica nodded and wondered how a seventeen-year-old was so wise beyond her years. Living with Veronica and Sir Albert had obviously opened Anna’s eyes to the harsh realities of human behaviour.

      ‘All right, that’s everything I think I’ll need.’ Veronica stuffed the last of her clothing into the trunk, snapping the clasp shut. ‘Your brother’s still coming with the trap, isn’t he?’

      ‘He’ll be here any minute.’ Anna took down the eighteenth-century marble and gold clock from above the mantelpiece and held it out. ‘You might get a few pounds for this.’

      Veronica shook her head. ‘It belongs to Bertie. It’s a family heirloom. Best to put it back.’ She didn’t want to give her husband any more reason to hate her. She knew he’d be enraged and would begin hunting her down the moment he realised she was gone. Any further excuse would add to whatever sentence Bertie had in store when he found her.

      If he found her.

      The sound of a horse and cart crunched rhythmically over the sweep of the gravel drive.

      ‘Is it your brother? Is it William?’ Veronica asked.

      Anna dashed to the window and her hands flew to her face.

      Veronica’s head shot up and she pushed her long auburn hair out of her eyes. ‘What? What is it?’

      ‘It’s not William.’

      Veronica dashed to the window. The house had been so quiet for ever so long. Visitors were few and far between since the war had started. ‘Who on earth is it? No one is expected. Not today. Why is someone visiting today?’

      Veronica peered down as the cart approached the front door. A well-dressed man in a suit was sitting next to the driver, but from the bedroom window, the angle made it impossible to see his face.

      ‘I’ll go down and tell them no one’s at home. William will be here any minute and …’ Anna trailed off. William’s horse and cart had come into view at the end of the driveway and was on its way towards the house.

      ‘Oh, dear God, it’s too late. Anna …’ Veronica closed her eyes and tried not to let panic get the better of her.

      ‘No, it’ll be all right. We can still get you away. Just wait here for a minute.’ Anna turned and left the room.

      Veronica clutched the thick curtain so hard that the whites of her knuckles showed. She stared at the first cart, hoping for it to turn and leave with its passenger still on board.

      Veronica saw Anna rush round from the side of the house and spin her fingers in the air, indicating to William to turn around and go. Halfway down the drive, William threw his hands in the air to his sister, indicating the task was an impossible one. He continued towards the house in order to sweep past and exit through the other entrance and, as he did so, acknowledged the passenger of the first cart with a tip of his hat. Veronica strained her eyes downward to try to identify the suited man but was unable to get a glimpse of his face.

      William’s cart continued away from the house and out of the space where the large iron gates had once stood. Veronica had loved those gates. But having been taken in the metal drives in 1940 to help build weapons and Spitfires, they had not yet been replaced. It didn’t matter now. She would not be here to see them remade.

      From the latticed window of her bedroom Veronica watched as Anna stopped momentarily in front of the visitor. Anna started to speak and then narrowed her eyes as if in confusion.

      Anna opened the front door, indicated for the СКАЧАТЬ