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Part 6
January 22nd 1940 - Little Gaddesden, England
"The road to a friend's house is never long."
~ Danish Proverb
Chere Button,Ça va?
Well, that's all the French I'm in the mood for today. This will be a gloomy little scribble, but TOG has ordered me to write a letter or something because I am driving him insane with my pacing around the room. Though TOG is hardly one to talk since he paces himself. Being TOG he now points out that he is well aware that he is not one to talk, but he is talking nonetheless and he is going to continue talking regardless of whether it is in total contradiction to his behaviour. That's the TOG for you, he's totally insufferable and then he utterly disarms you by devastating frankness coupled with inimitable charm.
I took twenty minutes to write that because I'm scared. It's two o'clock in the morning here and there are four of us packed into this little anteroom. Mackle was up for his last operation yesterday ... it was meant to be simple and brief, but it wasn't. We're now standing around for the doctors say he is going to die shortly. TOG grunts that the medics talk garbage, but TOG is worried nonetheless for he is pacing. If I was a little less selfish I would go and speak to Helen who is crying on the other side of this little anteroom, but I am selfish and scared for myself.
The family grapevine let me know that you'd told Jeroen you'd be willing to be a flatmate for me. I can't say thank you enough, but I must warn you of what you are getting yourself into. I'm used to servants Button, and a lot of them. I don't know the first thing about running a house and, at least in the beginning, the only thing I'm going to supply is the ability to look very pretty. I'm shockingly extravagant (though Mackle promises in all seriousness that I have improved in the past few months) and terribly thoughtless and forgetful. If you tell me once you'll probably have to tell me a hundred times, but I promise I will honestly try to remember and work. Mackle observed that you'd better know that there's an apartment above TOG's which you can use if you want to get away from me for a couple of days. That's not Mackle being nasty, I asked whether the space was available because I realised several months ago that I would be an immense trial to any potential flatmate. I find it funny how these things work, before Mackle nearly died it never occurred to me that people might find me lazy, idle and useless. Since then I've realised that I was all of the above three, and I've also discovered that TOG and Mackle have some bet running about the day I learn to make scrambled eggs (it's a very complex bet, which started when I was ten and failed to scramble eggs edibly. The money laid has gone up exponentially [is that really a word?] every year since and TOG currently has several pounds wagered that I won't ever successfully scramble eggs) Helen says it is important, regardless of what status one is born into, that one can cook a simple meal, can keep basic accounts and be unafraid to try anything. I have a year to learn that in and I do not want the servants breathing down my neck and complaining while I try. In fact I must admit that what I really want to do is what Jim did several years ago and lose my identity for a period of time and become a normal person (Jim says it is truly an enlightening experience and good for thought. TOG says that it would work equally the other way around, but he admits that he wouldn't trust the family estates to just 'anyone' off the street.)
It is now five in the morning, Mackle was still alive at three so we were sent back to our respective rooms, only to be called again now because apparently he slid further. It seems that Mackle neglected to mention that he doesn't respond well to surgery. The doctors get all technical about it, but some medical acquaintance of my Uncle David explained it more bluntly by stating that Mackle responds badly to injections. How this medical type knows Mackle responds badly to injections I have no idea, he's also a Canadian Neurosurgeon who arrived midway through the surgery and was furious when he heard they'd gone ahead without him. But apparently this explains why Mackle was so bad for months after the original operation. We were not the only people who just assumed that it was general shock from the sheer amount of surgery tied to the morphia he was on for the pain and the pneumonia. Apparently it had a lot more to do with the injections he was getting to keep the pain under control than anything else. Currently Mackle is apparently almost pulseless and breathing almost not at all...they say it will only be a matter of time. Mr. March, the neurosurgeon from Canada, seems to agree with TOG about the fact that Mackle won't die, but I will admit that their confidence and logic to reach that conclusion is beyond me, it is also beyond Helen who has returned to her room. I will find out later exactly why Mr. March has come and what he is doing lurking in this anteroom. I will also find out more about this ridiculous injection stuff.
It is lunchtime, but I am not hungry. TOG and Mr. March have been huddled in the anteroom corner for hours and they've been talking flat-out and shutting up if anyone comes within earshot. Mackle is currently breathing, but if last night was anything to go by he will slide again in twenty minutes and we'll go and hover outside his door waiting for the doctor to come out and tell us that he's still continuing to breathe. Is this cold-blooded and uncaring? I think it has happened too often now for it to even register. I'm numb and I think I'll stay numb until he's been conscious and lucid for at least half a day. So far he's not even regained consciousness, though Mr. March says it could be two days before he regains consciousness. I almost wish he'd make up his mind, for I don't want him to die, but I don't think I can take much more of this without screaming. If I scream I won't be able to stop and the nurses will sedate me and...
Will not finish that sentence. Will not finish that sentence. Will not finish that sentence. Will not finish that sentence.
Annette rubbed her stinging eyes as she quickly glanced at the rest of that page. The sentence was repeated over and over again until the bottom of the page. On the next page it changed only slightly.
I will not finish that sentence. Mackle will be fine.
Like some mantra for courage or a prayer the sentences were repeated over and over again, covering several pages, before the pattern changed slightly and Annie-Bug began to write again.
Mackle officially rallied ten hours ago and spoke two minutes ago. The medical types now profess the optimistic view that he might survive provided nothing from a seemingly endless list of complications does not occur. However I know Mackle, and if he bothered to regain consciousness and speak it was because he fully intends to live. Mackle is a great believer in saving effort and he has no flair for the dramatic at all. If he doesn't think something is worth the effort, he won't do it. However once he makes up his mind I don't think anything can unmake it.Well, if I haven't scared you off from being my flatmate send your stuff to Mrs. Edward Gardiner (also known as Jeroen's old Land-Lady) and bring yourself to May's Tea Shop in Paddington on the 17th of January. I'll be sitting in the corner, but if you can't find the corner like I usually do, just ask Ivy who serves the tea for Annie-Bug and she'll point you in the right direction. I do hope you'll come.
Annie-Bug
"Oh dear." Annette looked rather helplessly at the last paragraph and then out the window.
"Something the matter Annette?" Mr. Fouchiard looked over the top of his own mail.
"Annie-Bug wrote asking me to be at a rendezvous in London on the 17th."
"It's the 22nd."
"Precisely." Annette chewed her lip for a moment. "Could I please call Mrs. Gardiner and see if she can help?"
"Go ahead, go ahead." Mr. Fouchiard waved a dismissive hand as his attention returned to his own mail.
"Thank you." Annette hurried from the room.
"Gardiner speaking."
"Good afternoon. I'm Jeroen Fouchiard's sister Annette. I was trying to..."
"Ah-hah! Annie-Bug's wayward flatmate. I'll get Madeleine to get Annie-Bug up here. What happened by the way?"
"I received the letter about five minutes ago."
"Oh, wonderful!" Mr. Gardiner had given a great shout of laughter. "Trust Annie-Bug to do something like that. I take it you're coming after all?"
"If Annie-Bug hasn't found another flat-mate I certainly intend to."
"No, not at all. Here's Annie-Bug so you can sort it out between you."
"That you Button?"
"Yes ... I received your letter today."
"Oh, bother!" There was a brief pause. "Do you still want to come?"
"Definitely." Annette hesitated. "How about we just change the date?"
"Well, I can just retreat to Jim's until you arrive."
"Jim?"
"He's my cousin about twice removed or some such. I can also remain here and continue depending on Aunt Gardiner."
"She's your aunt?"
"Well ... she's Jim's maternal great-aunt, but she's Aunt Gardiner to all of us."
"Right." Annette shook her head in brief confusion. "Can I ask a question?"
"Can I guess it first?"
"Yes."
"I'm guessing that at the very most Jeroen has told you that my name was Anneliese."
"You're being generous, he only ever told me the Annie-Bug. Am I correct that you are the Anneliese that fished Jeroen and Bill out of a Derbyshire bog?"
"You are very correct, and I'll assume it was Bill who blabbed that." Annie-Bug hesitated. "My name is Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy in its full glory. I was wearing my cousin Jim's trousers when I fished them out of the bog ... but I'll tell all of that another time."
"How's Mackle?"
"Recovering fairly steadily now. Mr. March has taken over his case completely and I must admit to a great deal of thanks that Uncle David thinks more than any of us do. Remind me whenever you come to send a postcard of thanks to Uncle David...also remind me to get the contact details off Jim ... I'm almost guaranteed to forget."
"Annie-Bug."
"Yes?"
"Remember to get the contact details off Jim."
"Very funny. When can you get here?"
"Well ... how about we say 17th of next month we meet at Ivy's?"
"Sounds lovely ... Aunt Gardiner wants to speak to you."
"I'll see you on the seventeenth then." Annette leant against the wall, listening to the brief clatter as the receiver changed hands and Madeleine Gardiner's voice finally spoke.
"Button? Are you still with us?"
"Reading loud and clear. Something the matter?"
"No. Just going to mention that Jeroen left most of his heavy stuff behind. Bed, stove, armchairs, couch, table ... not to mention the cutlery, dishes and glasses. If you don't mind the idea of using Jeroen's bed you probably needn't bring any more than a suitcase of clothes and a toothbrush."
"Well that will make arriving on the seventeenth a lot easier...are you certain Jeroen isn't going to want his stuff back?"
"Well, he's been away for several months now and hasn't countermanded his permission to lease the flat as a furnished flat."
"Good. I'll see you all on the seventeenth then." Annette remained for a brief moment longer, exchanging a few tidbits of news before terminating the call and slowly returning to the library, the frown on her forehead almost pensive.
"Success?" Mr. Fouchiard looked up from his book.
"Well, Annie-Bug hasn't got another flat-mate yet and we've arranged to meet on the seventeenth of next month."
"That doesn't leave much time for folding up your life here."
"No." Annette settled back onto her seat with a sigh. "But I have work waiting for me in London and I will be a lot nearer Rory."
"Mm." Mr. Fouchiard retreated behind his newspaper again. "Hasn't actually asked you to marry him yet has he?"
"No." Annette hugged her knees briefly. "But he has some rather old-fashioned ideals about women and working and he wants to be able to support me."
"Wise precaution even if you do call it old-fashioned. I suppose it is better than the 'gothic' which Lucille was calling me yesterday."
"Lucille called you Gothic?" Annette blinked in surprise; that was a trifle harsh, even for Lucille.
"She wanted to go to London with you and you'll probably be glad to hear that I played the authoritative father figure finally and said no."
"Well I do think that she too irresponsible." Annette hesitated. "What's she intending to do?"
"I believe she's made some arrangement for an apprenticeship with the dressmaker. Perhaps, if she finishes this apprenticeship I will consider this wish to go to school in London...just as I will consider Candy's request to join the Wrens."
"Candy wants to join the Wrens?"
"She was asking your mother whether she knew anything about the Wrens earlier ... no doubt she'll come to me shortly and ask permission." Mr. Fouchiard shook his head. "Enjoy London Annie and don't forget to write as I fully expect to not hear a sensible word unless you are visiting."
"Well, you might possibly be able to visit as well." Annette glanced quickly at her remaining letters before smiling and shaking her head. "Jeroen writes that he is not dead but he does not expect to write any time soon. Do you think that it ever occurs to him that people impose on his good nature?"
"Undoubtedly not. Don't forget to write."
"I won't." Annette shook her head again before leaving the library. As Mr. Fouchiard had observed, she was not going to have much time to spare if she was going to really be ready to go to London on the seventeenth.
Part 7
February 17th 1940 - London, England
Humans are so very complex ... but I have found over the years that when meeting a strange one I should say the most personally embarrassing thing I can remember. At worst they will walk off, otherwise the situation can only improve.
"Just Ducky." The girl seated at the corner table gave a small wave and bounced on her seat. She was a tiny girl, with thick black hair and the most ridiculously brilliant sapphire blue eyes Annette had ever seen in her life. The clothes, though simple slacks and a shirt, were undoubtedly expensive because they held that understated elegance which in its own field has no equal. There was no question why Jeroen had fallen for this girl if it actually was Annie-Bug. "You be Button?" The question was asked as Annette hesitantly lowered into the other seat.
"Annie-Bug?"
"Correct. Oh, you do look exactly like Jeroen described ... and he made me promise to tell you that he did not liken you to Susie to describe you."
"Very kind of him." Annette responded hesitantly. "My actual name is Annette, but you're quite welcome to continue calling me Button."
"I will then. I'm Anneliese ... as I told you. Probably best that we remain Annie-Bug and Button."
"Did you really happen to fish my brother out of a Derbyshire bog?" Annette was having difficultly picturing this girl anywhere but London in all honesty.
"Yes. On my Uncle Charles' tractor what's more and in a pair of my cousin's trousers with mud on my face. My cousin is a lot taller than me and I had to conceal the excess rollup in the gumboots and under my uncle's coat ... I had them tied up with baling twine."
"How...how elegant." Annette really couldn't think of anything else to say.
"I quite agree...but I can claim with certainty the most unromantic environment for being asked out on a first date." Annie-Bug had the slightly stressed appearance of someone fighting to keep their countenance.
"I had wondered why this angel Bill waffled about as the saving grace of my brother's flying was never apparently taken to dinner by him." Annette bit her lip when she realised that she had made the remark out loud.
"Jeroen was rather embarrassed." Annie-Bug gave a small giggle. "However, he certainly wasn't giving Bill a chance to get in first. He just popped his canopy stood up and offered to take me out to dinner if I'd lend my tractor so they could get out."
"He offered you dinner to borrow your tractor?" Annette shook her head in disbelief.
"Yes." Annie-Bug choked on her giggles. "He still claims that he deliberately landed in the bog so he could offer to take me out to dinner, but I don't believe him still. Anyway, off Jeroen and back on you. Who, or what, is Susie?"
"Susie was a very large and hairy spider Jeroen brought home one summer. Then in Sunday School when doing a project to describe family members he described me as 'exactly like Susie.' I got a month worth of black marks because I hit him as he returned to his seat."
"Well done. Tea?"
"Please." Annette watched Annie-Bug as she went to the counter to order. Annie-Bug was tiny, and an exquisitely fine bone structure seemed only to accentuate her diminutive size.
"Jim called me Mouse for years." Annie-Bug settled in her seat again. "Then one year I swore I'd never speak to him again if he called me Mouse and so he thought about it for a few minutes and asked whether Annie-Bug was acceptable. I'd probably have accepted anything as long as it wasn't Mouse. However I quite liked Annie-Bug at the time ... and now the entire family calls me Annie-Bug, though the last to stop using Anneliese was my Uncle David. That leaves only Button and we've probably run out of embarrassing name stories."
"Button isn't too embarrassing because I don't remember Jeroen ever addressing me otherwise. Mother says it came about because I tried to eat the buttons on Jeroen's favourite shirt when I was a year old and when he insisted it was his shirt and his buttons I disagreed apparently and said me Button and so Jeroen has called me Button ever since, though no one else in the family uses it."
"Right, now we can't get embarrassed about anything else so let us finish our tea discussing something tepid and polite like books ... oh bother, photographer. Don't go near Jim if he shows his face any time soon or they will plaster it all over the news that I was checking out his potential wife. Never have a cousin who is too well known to the press, they make up the most shocking bouncers."
"Jim?"
"James Darcy, Cricketer. He's my mother's cousin's son to get the relationship right. Jim has been missing for months so you probably needn't worry, but reflected glory can be a nuisance. For the most part they ignore me, but courtesy of his run for it we're all a bit more interesting than we used to be." Annie-Bug stirred her tea vigorously. "Which reminds me, somewhere in the boxes there is a letter for you. Mackle was an idiot and got sick yet again so he couldn't write for a bit. The doctors waffle a whole bunch of technical garbage, then Mr. March groans and mentions that the physical human form is not actually designed for lying in one position without movement for an extended period of time. They eventually told us that Mackle had caught pneumonia again. Hence what should have ended months ago will last for another three months at least as they wait for him to recover and rebuild his defenses. Something not good apparently happened during the last bout of surgery which is why he nearly snuffed it...but no one has yet managed to explain it to me...however the doctors do assure us that he'll have some mobility when they're done. To be honest I think he'd prefer he was dead right now."
"Nasty." Annette hesitated. "Did the last couple of letters arrive?"
"Definitely." Annie-Bug's eyes abruptly lit up. "I hope you don't mind that everyone reads those letters. They've been so fun to receive and read...almost made Mackle forget he was up for more surgery on one or two occasions."
"Why did he not mention he was up for an operation?"
"I don't know." Annie-Bug shook her head. "None of us know. The minute the time is set for the next op he clamps down, doesn't speak to any of us. My Uncle Jermyn says he rather thinks that...I'll talk about it later...please change the subject."
"Umm." Annette sifted around for a topic. "The house."
"What about it?"
"What can you do?"
"I can wash dishes now and dust without breaking things."
"Mm." Annette creased her brows in thought before frowning as she watched a curious mix of expressions flitter across Annie-Bug's face, it was almost as if she were searching for the right expression to wear and trying each one on for size.
"Do you think you have the patience to let me learn everything?" Annie-Bug finally settled for an apprehensive expression.
"You want to learn everything?" Annette blinked in confusion.
"Of course. Nelli says that it is actually important to know such things as we cannot know what the future holds."
"Nelli?"
"The Housekeeper at Pemberley. Nelli was the Lady of a Great Estate in Ireland but they lost the Estate in the Easter Rising while Nelli was nursing in France. Nelli says she actually prefers being the Housekeeper to being a Lady of the House and she bakes the most wonderful custard tarts."
"Why did you not learn from Nelli then?"
"Oh I only met Nelli recently. I mean I've always known her, but one did not speak to the Housekeeper unless one was Lady of the House or had a complaint. My Aunt Georgiana is Lady of Pemberley and has been for at least a decade and one really can't complain about anything at Pemberley. Aunt Georgiana is a real stickler for proprieties and I never dared talk to my chambermaid even. My Aunt Elizabeth apparently was no stickler at all, but I was only seven when she died so I do not remember her at all. My grandmother speaks exceedingly ill of her lack of 'proper' breeding, but everyone else seems to have loved her so I am inclined to think that my grandmother has erred in her judgement."
"Then how do you know Nelli now?"
"Oh, she's taken over from Caroline for helping with Mackle. Caroline had to come back to London because she was getting awfully behind on work and had tax or something similarly horrible to deal with. You should hear Ashie on the topic of Tax, Mackle says it's fair but Nelli says it's unrepeatable."
"Doesn't Mr. Darcy object to losing his housekeeper?"
"Oh, he hardly could since he hasn't been told. My Aunt Georgiana cannot complain either for Nelli goes back to Pemberley for weekends to check that everything is running well. The Senior Maid is very capable."
"Oh." Annette gave a small shake of her head to clear it. "Well, we'll start by going to the flat. I don't know about you, but I'm tired."
"Whoops." Annie-Bug frowned. "How do you keep a room clean without a maid?"
"You just put things away after you're finished with them...either that or put them in a washing basket."
"Oh." Annie-Bug frowned again as she finished off her tea. "You ready to go now?"
"Yes." Annette rose and blinked as Annie-Bug scribbled something on the bill before dragging her from the shop.
"I just credited tea to Jim, he won't mind."
"Right." Annette shook her head again before leading the way quickly through the streets. Living with Annie-Bug was undoubtedly going to be an experience not easily forgotten.
"For the most part I have a very boring family tree, or as Jim puts it everyone is easily classed as Mr. so-and-so or Lady what-not." Annie-Bug was frowning as she rearranged her wardrobe for the second time.
"Jim?" Annette looked up from her investigation of a large box of books which were going to be put somewhere. Annette was more than a little relieved that Annie-Bug had brought up the subject of her relatives, the afternoon had been very confusing as names just waltzed in and out of conversation with no explanation at all.
"There's only one Jim and that's my cousin James Darcy." Annie-Bug hesitated and frowned at an exceedingly elegant dinner gown. "Joseph and Uncle Jermyn are I think the only other J relatives. Joseph is over ten years older than me and he is married with a son of five already. My Uncle Jermyn is the current Earl of Matlock and he is the older brother of my Uncle Edward. Uncle Edward is a Lieutenant-General who will probably retire when this war ends."
"These names are what relation of James Darcy?"
"Jermyn and Edward are the brothers of his grandmother Anne ... they're also brothers of my grandmother who was Catherine. Anne married George Darcy and Catherine married Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Jermyn actually had six children of whom Joseph is the oldest and Frederica is actually younger than me ... I always felt sorry for Freddie because she's a Freddie Fitzwilliam and I really think that rather rough."
"The Earl was not in the war?"
"Oh yes, but he was only a Colonel when he was demobilised in 1918. My cousin Stephen is the only one of that family who has so far entered the army...though I suspect that Peter will probably join as well when he's old enough. With the exception of the Bennets everyone who is either cousin, uncle or aunt is directly related through a sibling of Jermyn Fitzwilliam."
"Brian?"
"He is the son of Nelli, the Housekeeper at Pemberley...I shouldn't refer to him as cousin. You'll probably meet Brian before long because he is apparently up for some leave really soon as he is not part of the Expeditionary Force to France. Claude I'll also mention, but he's just a friend of Jim's from Oxford."
"M-hmm." Annette rearranged a couple of books. "So we reach the Bennets ... and they are?"
"My Aunt Elizabeth, who died in 1930, was the second of five Bennet Sisters. Elizabeth married my Uncle Darcy and was Jim's mother. My Aunt Jane married Captain Charles Bingley, my Uncle Charles, and their children are my cousins Miles, William, Jack and Elizabeth. Aunt Jane was the oldest sister. My Aunt Mary married some Academic type and their son is my cousin Alastair. My Aunt Mary and her husband are both long since deceased and my Aunt Katherine is guardian of Alastair ... or she was until he came of age. My Aunt Katherine, whom I'll probably refer to in the future as Kitty, is awesome and so much fun. My Aunt Lydia died in 1916 when a patient went crazy in her ward."
"So Jane and Kitty are the only sisters who are still alive?"
"Yes." Annie-Bug frowned. "You'll probably meet my cousin Miles and possibly William in the next couple of months. William is an old sobersides, but he can be good fun when he forgets his intention to become an Oxford Don."
"Exciting." Annette blinked and then shook her head again. "Rather a high profile pile of ancestors and relatives."
"Well it guarantees a good crowd at any major celebration." Annie-Bug gave a chuckle. "Miles, William, James, Joseph, Brian, Alastair and Stephen are the cousins I'm most likely to mention or you're at all likely to meet. My Uncle Edward and Caroline are about the only ones of the older generation you're likely to meet, though any other year you would also have met my Uncle Darcy." Annie-Bug frowned and then abruptly drew a smiley face on the corner of the page where Annette had been making a brief family tree.
"Who is Caroline?"
"She is the older sister of my Uncle Charles and she and Kitty share a flat over in Paddington. The flat used to be my Aunt Elizabeth's apparently but she left it to Kitty and Kitty asked Caroline to share with her. Caroline is a stickler who makes my Aunt Georgiana look quite mild and tepid."
"Georgiana?"
"My Uncle Darcy's only sister and current Mistress of Pemberley. My Uncle Darcy had a brother who died in India before the Great War, and then there is my Aunt Georgiana who is years younger than my Uncle Darcy." Annie-Bug drew a second smiley face before taking a determined breath. "There's also Ashie...but I've no idea if you'll ever meet him for he is best described as whimsical." Annie-Bug was clearly fighting a laugh. "Actually you probably won't meet Ashie as he's currently tied up in some hush-hush war stuff up in the north, but if you do meet him, you'll probably meet him in the company of Caroline. Ashie is engaged to Caroline...but since they've been engaged for over thirty years it really isn't news at all. That's just so you don't get shocked by them...though Jim swears that if Ashie's father hadn't been such an ass they would have gotten married before the Great War. As it is they've both sworn never to marry, and also never bothered to terminate the engagement Ashie's father arranged. Jim swears he's going to hold a bash to end all bashes if they clock up fifty years of engagement." Annie-Bug wrinkled her nose. "Ashie's fun, but rather annoying. I do not agree with Jim at all on that subject for the only common ground they seem to have is a liking for the most exquisite clothing. Ashie's the only man I know who can play cricket and finish the day looking like he's only just left the hands of his valet."
"Who is Ashie? A relative?"
"No, he's an...acquaintance of my Uncle Darcy who just seems to be part of everything. That might just be because of Caroline though. Ashie fagged for my Uncle Darcy at Eton, he then got expelled from Eton in his sixth year for...disruptive behaviour. Ashie finished his schooling at Harrow where he holds the reputation as the most unreliable bowler ever fielded."
"Unreliable?"
"He took six wickets in one over and then sent every other ball he bowled to the boundary for five extras ... that sort of unreliability. He's been in and out of all manner of things over the years and he got quite a decent reputation during the war for all the low opinion his relatives seem to have of him." Annie-Bug scratched her head thoughtfully. "Guess that's why he's tied up with this hush-hush stuff."
"Who. Is. He?" Annette tilted her head.
"Oh dear, sorry. He is Wing-Commander Lord James Claude Francis Abraham Aristide Clarence Ashington-Frankston...known everywhere as Ashie, except that Caroline sometimes calls him James...if Caroline calls him Lord James you are advised to take cover for it means she is furious at him. Ashie was the second son of the late Earl of Deraux ... though Ashie's father was the grandfather of the current Earl of Deraux. Kenneth is the current Earl and he's about six. Ashie's trustee for the current Earl of Deraux, but it's no secret that Ashie handed the entire Estate over to Caroline and won't touch it with a barge pole."
"Well, you're about to touch the kitchen with a lot less than a barge pole." Annette jumped to her feet.
"Jim said I was walking proof that being a woman did not mean we could cook." Annie-Bug followed much more slowly.
"Your cousin James has no idea what he's talking about ... but everyone does need to learn first. It is merely that men are much too lazy to learn."
"Jim classifies himself as a master of basic trench cookery...but he can scramble eggs infinitely better than I can."
"James is starting to irritate me...though I suspect that what you'll learn from me will also be basic trench cookery..."
"That means you can scramble eggs, make coffee, burn toast and fry fish."
"Okay, you'll learn a bit more than basic trench cookery...what can you produce?"
"I can make tea and coffee." Annie-Bug looked around the kitchen with an expression of confusion. "Nelli taught me how to make sandwiches just before I came down and Mackle has given me some recipe which he says can be forgotten for the day. I checked the recipe with Nelli and she agreed that it would be edible regardless of appearance." Annie-Bug finally settled on a tall stool. "James says that I can't scramble eggs though."
"Well let's see what Jeroen and Mrs. Gardiner have left us before we decide on what to eat." Annette opened the first cupboard and frowned before moving quickly through the other cupboards and the refrigerator. "It would seem we have eggs, bacon, coffee, tea, tomatoes, cheese and milk." Annette settled on a nearby chair with a sigh. "That is going to have to supply us with breakfast as well as dinner ... that is not much food."
"Well..." Annie-Bug hesitated only briefly. "We're going out to dinner. If Jim complains I'll tell him it is how I scramble eggs."
"But..."
"Relax, we'll only go to the Ace of Spades where you're bound to see some familiar faces and I'll hopefully find a cousin or two for company. Now, move it or I'll call Jim up and tell him in advance that we're burning him for scrambled eggs on toast for dinner."
"And you call yourself extravagant?"
"Oh I am, but Jim introduced me to these eggs last year and I'm rather fond of them. Even extravagant people occasionally enjoy plain food."
Part 8
March 30th 1940 - London, England
No news is good news ... sometimes!
The piercing shriek rang through the small flat and Annette flinched instinctively, shaking her head as she checked that her flinch hadn't caused her to push a key she wasn't meant to push. Annette was now rarely caught off guard by Annie-Bug's shrieks, but today she had been caught off-guard. Annette shook her head again and wondered briefly what relative had just turned up before she returned her attention to the manuscript she was typing up.
"BUTTON!" Annie-Bug came dancing into the room where Annette was working. "They've finished! They've finally finished!"
"Who have finished what?" Annette fended off Annie-Bug's delighted hug and hastily slid the cover over the typewriter.
"The medicos." The deep voice caused Annette to look up and she blinked at the serge uniform before nodding. He was a tall, brown and broad-shouldered man who was well past twenty, if not closer to thirty. The mouth was firm and clipped, a mouth which gave away no secrets. The eyes were bright and curiously far seeing in their appearance.
"I'll assume you're Brian." Annette held out a polite hand at the same time as she finally gave Annie-Bug the hug she wanted. "What medicos have finished? and who were they working on?"
"MACKLE!" It was an absolute shriek that Annie-Bug gave for the second time and Annette flinched away from the noise. "They've finished cutting him up and he's out of that pestilential hell-hole!" Annie-Bug resumed dancing around the room.
"And here was me thinking that it was me she was happy to see." The man shook his head before finally shaking Annette hand. "Brian O'Niell. You were quite correct in your guess. I assume it was scatter-brain here who actually explained the somewhat complex workings of the Bennet-Darcy-Fitzwilliam Clan."
"Scatter-brain yourself." Annie-Bug emitted a big huff. "I explained it all to her the first day without even having to be asked! How is he?"
"How do you think I know?" Brian's brows rose. "Suffice to say the idiot is breathing steadily and has a heartbeat to match. He was playing 20 questions with Ashie this morning ... I'll swear that dictionary was the worst gift he could possibly have been given."
"Nelli?"
"She's back at Pemberley and I'm requested by..." Brian abruptly stopped and pulled a much folded scrap of paper from his pocket. "Sorry, muffed it. By Pemberlian command that blighted lovebird Annie-Bug is to get her rear up to Pemberley no later than the tenth of next month unless she wishes her allowance to be in imminent peril of termination. The JMD which poses as a signature has all it's irreproducible squiggles and squirrels."
"Rot!" Annie-Bug stopped dancing and pounced on the scrap. "Well, Jim is clearly in a charming mood. When did he resurface?"
"Oh, he just returned one night last week. Nelli's in a fair pelter about it all and the wing is withdrawing to Cambridgeshire. I frankly don't know what's got into him lately but I pity any reporter who tries to talk to him ... he'll eat them alive and then probably spit it out so he can stomp all over it."
"Ashie won't be happy at getting sent over to Cambridgeshire."
"Well he can't really complain since he's owner of the barracks where they're going ... which reminds me. Button, Jeroen sends you his greetings, appologises for being a shocking correspondent and says that he's been a bit too sore and busy to write to anyone ... even little sisters."
"I thought he was flying."
"Oh he is." Brian made a small choking noise. "But when you're flying with Ashie, Mac and Pyro the name of the game is nothing like the gentlemanly stuff we do in the RAF."
"He's ... He's..." Annie-Bug stopped a second time. "Are they trying to kill him?"
"No ... just teach him to fly by their standards."
"What does that mean?" Annette was more than a little worried for Annie-Bug had gone a trifle pale.
"Ashie's idea of flying is going at 200 knots with your wheels on the ground!" Annie-Bug gave a convulsive swallow. "Will the wing have gone by the tenth?"
"I don't know ... but I think so." Brian shook his head before abruptly pulling Annie-Bug in for a brief hug. "Look here Beetle, they have no intention of killing Gerkin ... in fact they want him alive possibly even more than you do."
"Who said that?" Annie-Bug's tone was tight.
"Ashie." Brian gave a brief nod. "Just came to let you know the news and give you the ultimatum. If I can find another couple of spare minutes before I head back out I'll come and find out whether these eggs are as good as you claim them to be." Brian left the room at that and Annie-Bug sank somewhat uncertainly onto the bed.
"ANNIE!" The yell echoed through the house.
"Charlie!" It was almost a curse as Annette glanced uncertainly at Annie-Bug before she abruptly bolted for the front door.
"What was Brian doing here?" Charlie was looking down the stairs as Annette came to a stop beside her.
"Dropping off a financial ultimatum from Mr. Darcy for Annie-Bug, informing us that Mackle is out of hospital and dropping the bomb on Annie-Bug that Jeroen is apparently flying with Ashie, Pyro and Mac ... whoever they might be."
"Big names ... so that's the whole story." Charlie nodded her head in an impressed manner. "Don't worry, I've no intention of even mentioning it to a soul that Gerkins tied up with that lot. Did you know that Candy's in Portsmouth?"
"As in my sister Candace?"
"The one and the same. She joined the Wrens and is apparently a teleprinting Wren."
"How do you know that?"
"Well Sue's down there and she happens to be the PO in charge of the teleprinting room. Intense interrogation revealed the fact that Wren C. Fouchiard did in fact have three sisters and a brother. Further interrogation produced the names Patrice, Annette and Lucille for the sisters and Jeroen for the brother. Sue mentioned it to me in a letter along with the fact that Candy is quite a decent Wren and teleprinter ... they got caught by a stuffy Commodore using the main gates and 'cheeking the NCO in command' to quote the twit. Why the Wrens can't use the main gate no one has yet figured out, but such is the case."
"Do you want to come in for tea or are you just going to bolt as well?"
"I was hoping you'd ask before I ended up inviting myself." Charlie gave a wide yawn and then grinned over Annette's shoulder. "Greetings Annie-Bug, Jeroen mentioned you might be found here ... you two up for a night at Teddie's?"
"Oh." Annie-Bug sounded a bit limp. "N-not tonight."
"Good, we'll set it for next week then. Say, Pops is calling me insane and a traitor ... I just signed into the ATS."
"Why?" Annette inspected the condition of the kettle with a frown.
"Because they knocked on the door before the Wrens or WAAFs did." Charlie accepted the cup of tea Annette handed her.
"Annie-Bug was turned down by the Wrens and the WAAFs ... not strong enough or something, but frankly I think it was her name which scared them."
"It would." Charlie looked serious. "I mean PO Annie-Bug, what good publicity for the service!"
"Ouch!" Annie-Bug was nursing her ribs and almost hysterical with laughter.
"I quite agree." Annette was only slightly more contained in her laughter than Annie-Bug. "So what have the ATS got you doing?"
"Well I was in Wales ... but they don't like my cooking." Charlie heaved a great sigh. "This caused me to become a secretary ... apparently my handwriting is nice and neat. I was fired from my second secretarial post twenty minutes ago and tomorrow I am to show up for duty as a driver."
"Can you drive?"
"Well, I'll be able to answer that tomorrow." Charlie managed to keep her expression flat for almost ten seconds before she joined Annette and Annie-Bug in near hysterical laughter.
"Do ... do you ... would you like to learn in advance of having to drive some general somewhere?"
"If you can teach me I'd love to!" Charlie sobered up in a flash.
"You don't mind?" Annie-Bug glanced across at Annette uncertainly.
"Do whatever ... I have a chapter to finish anyway ... why were you fired as a secretary?"
"Well the first time it was because I couldn't use a typewriter at all." Charlie stood up and gave a mischievous grin. "The second time it was because I couldn't make head or tail of my officer's handwriting."
"Ashie got the job?" Annie-Bug looked positively gleeful.
"You got it Annie-Bug, Ashie is currently parked in Whitehall driving the politicians absolutely nuts ... he's also driving the ATS nuts as they try to keep a secretary with him for more than ten seconds."
"Three cheers for Ashie ... how about we go and annoy him while you learn to drive."
"I won't argue if you reckon you can get into that building." Charlie picked up her coat again. "See you later Annie and have that chapter done before we get back because I'm in a good mood tonight for both the Annies." Charlie followed Annie-Bug out the door, leaving Annette to sigh and return to her typewriter. The end of the chapter now looked incredibly boring, but she had promised she would get it finished.
April 13th 1940 - London, England
I want my fate to creep up on my all quiet like ... looking like a big fluffy cloud and a nice sleep if possible. - Moff Ball
"Annie-Bug!" Annette was sorting through the mail and stopped to scowl at a grubby piece of much folded paper with a distinctly illegible scrawl on it.
"Yes?" Annie-Bug came into the room wiping her face dry.
"Someone signing himself A has left you a note asking you to meet him at Ivy's for lunch."
"What?" Annie-Bug seized the scrap of paper and frowned at it intently before looking back at Annette in surprise. "You just read it?"
"Well it wasn't actually addressed to anyone ... I just conclude it's for you since no one would ask to meet me at Ivy's."
"I know." Annie-Bug shook her head. "I mean did you just read the note or did you know what it was going to read?"
"I read it ... though it wasn't precisely easy." Annette gave a shrug and handed over the rest of Annie-Bug's mail.
"Oh good, Jim has finally sent those papers." Annie-Bug shoved a large envelope into her belt. "You're coming to keep the rendezvous at Ivy's."
"But..."
"It's Ashie and he asked me the other day whether I knew anyone who wasn't family who could read his scrawl. You're looking for work and you can read his scrawl. It's perfect."
"Yes?" Annette looked distinctly unpersuaded as she hastily sorted out her mail.
"He's not that bad Button ... won't you please just give it a shot? You said yourself that only an unorthodox employer would ever want you as a secretary. Ashie is unorthodox and you definitely will not become bored as his secretary. I know he's an aristocrat ... but you said yourself that I actually make you almost decide we were tolerable as an existence. Give Ashie a chance will you? He's ... he's not your average lord of what-not."
"I know, he's been engaged for thirty odd years and has a reputation for violence when he's drunk." Annette was clearly still unpersuaded.
"He doesn't get drunk ... and it's only Bobbies and medics he lays finger on when he does get drunk ... and quite frankly it wouldn't surprise me if he has good reason for his dislike." Annie-Bug sighed. "Give him a chance will you Button? He didn't kill your brother and he can talk cricket."
"But... "
"You'll probably have plenty of time for your manuscripts on the side ... please, just a try?"
"All right!" Annette shook her head. "You're worse than Jeroen at persuading me to do things I had no intention of doing ... Rory is never going to forgive me."
"Forget Rory, he can't talk cricket and he doesn't like me."
"Of course he doesn't like you." Annette shook her head. "Annie-Bug you were only wearing a towel when you answered the door the first time."
"You mean I was meant to leave him waiting out there?"
"You could have just asked him to wait a moment and then gone and got dressed before opening the door."
"Oh." Annie-Bug frowned for a thoughtful moment. "Well that's still hardly an excuse for being as rude as he is. So, I made a mistake, anyone could do it. Do you think he'll get over his miff if I make cake for his next visit?"
"I have no idea." Annette shook her head somewhat helplessly.
"Maybe I'll try it ... but thank you for agreeing to give Ashie a shot." Annie-Bug abruptly squeaked and fled. "I'm late and I'll make dinner tonight."
"Okay." Annette shook her head with a wry noise and closed the front door before returning to her typewriter. A few minutes later the front door crashed open and shut and Annette leant back with a sigh. Just how was she going to explain to Rory tomorrow that she'd agreed to try being secretary to Lord James Ashington-Frankston, the very epitome of what Rory despised, was currently a mystery to Annette.
"He's late." Annie-Bug nibbled elegantly on yet another piece of teacake. "This means that either he has crashed, he's sick, he's dead ... or he's just forgotten he asked me to meet him here."
"Aren't those options at extremes?" Annette finally gave up watching Annie-Bug eat teacake and took some herself. Living with Annie-Bug had fast taught her that any food eaten at Ivy's or the Ace of Spades was automatically credited to James Darcy. Quite frankly it was not a practice that Annette liked, though she could hardly complain since Annie-Bug clearly didn't think twice about the issue.
"We're talking about Ashie here." Annie-Bug wiped her fingers fastidiously on her napkin. "He can have five more minutes and then I'll call him up and we'll walk around to his flat to deal with this issue."
"But..." Annette stopped.
"And Ashie is paying for the cake today." Annie-Bug spoke with grim satisfaction before smiling as Ivy approached the table. "Message Ivy?"
"Yes." Ivy had given a small shake of her head. "Caroline Bingley requests you to credit the tea and cake to Ashie and then catch a taxi to Ashie's flat ... he apparently forgot and when reminded observed that you'd have to visit him since he's too busy to go out."
"Trust Ashie." Annie-Bug shook her head. "Thank you Ivy, credit the cake and we'll depart ... and could you wrap some cake up for us? It was lovely!"
"Certainly." Ivy departed and Annie-Bug neatly piled the plates up and pushed her chair in before going to the counter to accept the cake box from Ivy.
Ashie's Flat was not what Annette had expected in the slightest. The building was a solid lump of four flats in Cherningham Place, which was barely a hundred metres from Ivy's and definitely not worth wasting a taxi ride for. The flats had the essential, weed-filled window-boxes and smutty windows, but on entry to the main foyer Annette realised that the outside was perhaps a trifle misleading, though she still couldn't think of a reason why a Lord would live in such a area. The main foyer, though plain, was scrupulously clean and the carpet in very good condition. The stairwell neatly slit the building in half and Annette glanced somewhat blankly at the mailboxes before blinking and looking sharply at Annie-Bug.
"Do these people happen to like their anonymity?"
"Why?" Annie-Bug stopped mid-step up the first flight of stairs.
"Kitty, Pyro, Ashie and Jim ... hardly informative of who lives where."
"It is informative to those who need even know about these flats." Annie-Bug resumed climbing and Annette hurried after her with a final shake of her head.
"Who is Pyro?"
"A friend of Ashie's. Haven't seen him in years. He's in the RAF, Pilot Training at Cranwell I believe." Annie-Bug gave a hefty pounding on a dark, wooden door.
"Come in, come in ... we're talking aeroplanes so you'll have to wait a minute." It was Brian who opened the door with a shake of his head. "Hullo Neddie, why'd Annie-Bug drag you out here?"
"She'll explain that one." Annette responded after a brief silence when she realised that Brian had in fact been addressing her and not some invisible ghost.
"She can read Ashie at his worst ... and what's more she can read it faster than I can." Annie-Bug kicked the door shut after letting Annette in. "Who's talking aeroplanes?"
"Basically everyone except Jim who isn't here and Caroline who's gone north to fix some mess Charles made in his accounts. Pyro, Mac, Hope and the twins ... though they're making a mess more than talking, Denny's here as well. Seems there's some mess at the Vickers Factory concerning some new tail. Hope brought the plans, with full permission, for an expert analysis. They analysed it to an inch of its life by eleven this morning and since then it's been old war stories, current war stories and who's who of 284 and 83 Squadron." Brian chucked the coats at the hat rack and lead the way into the rather crowded sitting room.
"They brought cake." Brian settled on a small stool next to the fireplace.
"Cake!" The two simultaneous shrieks gave Annie-Bug just enough time to hand the cake to Annette before she was engulfed by two whirlwinds and knocked to the floor.
"Ouch!" Annie-Bug strove briefly before glaring across the room. "Mrs. Ellis McKenna, call the cake fiends off."
"I think they're just happy to see you." Hope McKenna rose and came across none the less.
"Rubbish!" Annie-Bug, now freed of the twins rose to her feet once more. "They couldn't have cared less until Brian blabbed about the supplies." Annie-Bug took the box back from Annette and threw it at the man who was on the verge of hysterics.
"An..." Annette's shocked protest got no further as her jaw dropped. The man, who had clearly been in no condition even to stand, let alone catch a flying cake box when the box was thrown, stopped laughing and neatly fielded the cakebox just before it hit him. He pulled the top open almost at the same time as fielding the box and sniffed the contents with appreciation.
"Wonderful." The tone was cultured and very satisfied. "Apple tea cake." The man uncurled from his armchair and vanished through a nearby door. Annie-Bug leapt for the vacated chair and glanced around the room quickly.
"People, this is Annette who has been dubbed Neddie. Neddie, the twins are James and Joscelyn ... but they're called Marmelade and Marine for reasons I will not explain. The twins are nine years old and cake fiends of the worst order. Their mother is Hope McKenna, and almost as bad about cake as they are. The father is the greying RAF uniform behind Brian ... he's Group-Captain Ellis McKenna who's gunning for a down-grade so he can resume active duty flying again. He's called Mac though. Next to Mac and bent over the chessboard is Pyro ... who can explain in his own sweet time why he's wearing an RAAF uniform instead of his usual RAF uniform."
"Test piloting Annie-Bug ... I landed this morning and haven't had time to change to my other commission since Ashie wanted my opinion on this mess the designers have the gall to call an empennage." Pyro looked up from the chessboard with a sleepy grin.
"Harold Denny is the charmer who is watching the chessgame. Denny is an Author." Annie-Bug glanced over the back of her chair as the man came back into the room with the cake sitting on a plate. "That is Ashie and he can explain himself at his own leisure."
"So, is Neddie some bit of magic who can read my handwriting?" Ashie had attached himself to a piece of cake before he sent the plate circling the room.
"Well she could read that abominable scrawl you sent asking me to come to Ivy's today." Annie-Bug grinned as Ashie glanced about the room and then vanished into another room. Ashie returned with a largish folder under one arm and two chairs, one of which he handed to Annette and the other he sat on. Ashie glanced briefly into the folder before handing it to Annette as well.
"See what you can make of that while I finish pulverising Pyro." Ashie settled his seat closer to the chessboard ad bent his attention over it. "Oh, and Denny I lay any money you like that I can supply a photograph for that crash you want."
"Cranwell have a version of it in the main hall." Pyro frowned as he spoke before finally shifted his bishop one square.
"How can you have a photograph Ashie? You were in the wretched plane."
"I never said I took the photograph, just that I had it." Ashie glanced over his shoulder at where Annette was studying the first page of the file he had given her.
"Wouldn't worry." Annie-Bug swallowed her bite of cake hastily. "Let her near any written document and she clean forgets that there's a world which exists outside of that page."
"How do you get her attention then?"
"A good scream or a hand in the middle of the page usually catch her attention quickly enough." Annie-Bug gave a grin as she took another bite of cake.
"Wonderful." Ashie shook his head and frowned critically at the board before grinning. "Suicide!"
"Damn!" Pyro buried his face in his hands before reluctantly taking the king he had been on the verge of check-mating.
"Thank you. Chess." Ashie retrieved his King and set it back in its original square.
"Then I get an invisible castling." Pyro shifted his King as he spoke and Ashie's Queen got relegated to the side of the board.
"Bother." Ashie frowned at the board again.
"Has it ever occured to them to play by the actual rules?" Annie-Bug looked towards Denny.
"Not that I know of." It was Mac who responded. "You should have seen them pulverising the yanks though. Some Captain thought they'd be easy bait because of their refusal to use the traditional rules ... poor fellow never realised that they invented their rules to 'liven the game up a bit' in their own words."
"What Mac means is that if those Cads played by the real rules they always ended up in a tie. Only time it wasn't a tie they had a three second move limit and Florrie had a bad hangover and just couldn't think fast enough." Denny spoke with a chuckle. "You should have seen their three way games."
"Four ways was more fun." Ashie pounced upon one of Pyro's pawns which was getting too close to getting Queened. "So, expound on the wonders of Neddie and why, other than that she can read my scrawl, she should get this coveted position as my secretary."
"She knows your driver, she needs to learn that just because someone inherits a lot of money does not automatically make them on par with Hitler ... and anyway, she needs a job and you've got one to give away."
"How does she sleep?"
"That I can't answer." Annie-Bug responded after a frowning moment. "But I think she's a light sleeper. At any rate she doesn't look half as doped as I do in the morning."
"You know Jeroen's analysis of her ... what do you think?"
"He's right, particularly concerning her tendency to jump to conclusions ... and on top of that she definitely knows how to hold her tongue."
"She told Charlie."
"All she said to Charlie was that Jeroen was flying with Ashie, Pyro and Mac ... and Brian told her that, not Jeroen and on neither occasion was she sworn to secrecy anyway. Besides which Charlie can be trusted and we have Jeroen's word for that which is why you ever copped her as a secretary to begin with."
"It's closer than it was initially conjectured she would ever get."
"Well Jim was meant to be your secretary and he has refused so things aren't going to plan anyway."
"Oh." Mac gave a shake of his head. "Brian, you've been posted to Coastal Patrol."
"Why?" Brian's frown was distinctly unkind.
"Because Jim had you shifted. Seems the Air Board are rather too partial to his financial help." Mac turned back to the chessboard.
"Did he tell you why he blackmailed the Air Board?"
"No ... and he probably won't tell you either. However I think it safe to say that he has his reasons."
"Of course he has his reasons, he always has his reasons." Brian shook his head in irritation. "He just forgets that the rest of us deserve to know them when he's playing with our lives."
"Very nice." Ashie's remark was grave and slightly vague in meaning. Pyro had just pounced Ashie's bishop. Denny had just pushed some pencil drawing under his sleeve and the telephone had rung.
"Ashie's telephone." Pyro had leant back and hooked up the receiver on his fingertips. "Mm-hmm. Will do, I'll pass it on." Pyro dumped the receiver back down in the rest and settled his chair on all four of its legs. "That was Nelli." Pyro pondered the board for a moment before making his move. "Jeroen landed his spit in a tree near the pins." Pyro paused again and studied the chessboard. "He wants to know whether Hope thinks it can be retrieved without cutting the tree down."
"Why did he land in a tree?" Mac was frowning darkly.
"It seems that he wasn't given much choice. Rudder failed completely and that's the result. We probably should be glad that he didn't hit Pemberley. Why the rudder failed is a question and whether the tree will have to come down is another question."
"Why is the tree important?" Denny lifted the question.
"Comgerrie." Ashie shook his head. "Take a bet that it's Comgerrie Pyro?"
"Negative. It's the Comgerrie."
"Jeroen crashed into Comgerrie?" Annie-Bug looked scared. "Jim will kill him."
"Not if we get the spit out without bringing it down." Pyro leant back in his seat. "Which also causes me to note that either Neddie is finished or has given up on that file of yours Ashie."
"Finished." Annette had laid the file aside and been listening with a perplexed frown for a good couple of minutes.
"Wonderful. What was it about?"
"Mostly technical terms, but it seemed to be a report concerning a rather nasty crash. What is Mach 1?"
"A speed pilots have been trying to break since we could fly." Ashie gathered up the file with a nod. "If you want the job you can try it for a week. If at the end of a week you're willing to continue then we'll see whether I want you to continue and go from there." Ashie vanished into the room he had originally got the file and chairs from before returning empty handed. "Now the lot of you will have to scram. Get up to Pemberley by the quickest method you know ... except for Annie-Bug and Neddie who won't be coming. We've got a plane to shift without bringing down the tree it's in. Pyro, we'll need the ropes. Mac, try and get a Wimpy or something with a decent whack of lift. Hope, your analysis kit is still up there so you needn't get another one. Annie-Bug, be telephonic wonder and find Jim, I don't care what you do, but DON'T let him near Pemberley and don't tell him that Comgerrie's been hit."
"Do you think I'm insane?" Annie-Bug humphed and headed for the door, within minutes she and Annette were installed in another taxi heading for the flat. "That was Ashie."
"He didn't seem too odd ... though the chess was strange."
"You haven't seen half of that. Denny and Mac have some real horror stories about them playing while Florrie was still alive. Games that went for years ... games that had rules that sometimes worked and other times were illegal ... games where pieces weren't captured but doubled ... that sort of game I believe is won by the person who can make the last move." Annie-Bug hesitated. "Jim says that Ashie's not a fool ... but that is sometimes VERY hard to believe."
Part 9
April 14th 1940 - London, England
Be careful what you wish for, it might come true.
Annette trod up the stairs of the imposing governmental building with all the confidence she wasn't feeling. The girl at the front desk looked liked any one of hundreds of girls who sat at imposing desks. The girl's job was clear-cut and well-defined, a job which most people believed anyone could do in their sleep. If you understood how governmental departments worked you acknowledged that only a miracle worker would even attempt the job, let alone succeed at doing it.
"Miss Fouchiard to see Wing-Commander Ashington-Frankston." Annette was going to ask Annie-Bug why Ashie apparently worked in the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries at some later date. As far as Annette knew Ashie probably didn't know a harrow from a hoe, which really didn't lead one to any confidence in the work he might do in the Department.
"He's expecting you." The girl didn't even look up. "Bob will be here to show you the way in a moment." Bob might be just a moment, but equally Bob could be several hours in coming. Annette settled on one of the uncomfortable chairs, prepared to wait several hours if need be and remind the girl any number of times of her wanting to see Wing-Commander Ashington-Frankston.
"Neddie?" The man who appeared five minutes later was all nose and big, flapping, projectile ears. The hair was mousy brown and stuck-up in all directions, a perpetual fashion disaster. The suit was dark and marked by chalk dust.
"I suspect you mean me." Annette rose and held out a friendly hand.
"Wonderful." He shook her hand firmly and grinned, a move which made his ears project even further, but made him look very kind. "I am Robert Jonstone Webberly ... but I'm called Bob by one and all. Ask for Mr. Webberly and they'll probably tell you you've got the wrong department. If you want me, ask for Bob and I can promise to materialise within the next century from this murky morass called bureaucratic red tape." Bob led the way to a small set of stairs. "Also ignore me, a chap called Mac or Mackle has been filling in as Ashie's secretary for the past week and he's utterly insane ... almost as bad as Ashie actually and if you ever heard them together you'd get hysterics. Ashie tended to call him Mudguard ... but that was because of his tin leg ... or at least I think that's why he was called mudguard. Anyway, Ashie's insanity is highly contagious so never hesitate to turn to me if you need some equally insane conversation."
"Thank you." Annette frowned, her brain attempting to sort out the complex threads of that jumble of sentences. "Tin leg?"
"Mm. Mudguard was down a pin and a couple of fingers ... also a back injury seems to be hanging around because that boyo never even stirred a toenail that I saw and most people would stir more than a toenail after three hours in a wheelchair ... unless they couldn't. But then again Ashie acquired a wheelchair and they did spend one afternoon racing in the south corridor ... which would indicate no back trouble at all. A very rude man to the poor innocent worker ... I was utterly devastated to see he hadn't turned up this morning. I had a nice response to his nasty, cutting insult last night and now it's been wasted." Bob banged on a door he had halted outside of and poked his head cautiously inside before letting Annette in. The room was a small office place which had another door which obviously led to an inner office. Bob approached the inner office and knocked again, looking into that room with even greater caution.
"Ah, if it isn't Bob. What can I do for you?"
"Neddie is here!"
"Well go tell Neddie to discover America."
"Alright." Bob withdrew his head and closed the door before glancing around the outer room. "Definitely the Mudguard will not be coming back any time soon."
"What did he mean by discover America?"
"I have to say that I haven't the faintest idea." Bob finally lead the way back out into the hallway. "Mudguard discovered it quite frequently and in his case it seemed to consist of writing some great long screed to a girl he called Button ... he didn't encourage questions on the subject but we assume it was probably some relative or other. He's got a cousin called Annie-Bug and my hat is that girl a princess, nice but unquestionably out of bounds to types like us."
"Yes, but..."
"He'll find you if he needs you. There's a canteen downstairs and I have to fly. If you want to get back here for any reason at all just ask the nearest person for The Pit and they'll bring you here." Bob turned and hurried away, leaving Annette to stare blankly at the wall.
"You have the appearance of someone who has been told to discover America." The words interrupted Annette's reverie some fifteen minutes later and she turned to find herself looking at Charlie's rather horse-like face.
"Charlie!"
"Well someone is glad to see me." Charlie gave a grin and grabbed Annette's arm. "Come have tea and a biscuit. Annie-Bug got hold of me and observed that there was a fair chance that you'd like company."
"Just how did she get hold of you?"
"Well she called Jeroen who gave her Teddie's number. Teddy called Suds and had Suds call Annie-Bug. Suds gave Annie-Bug my number and so Annie-Bug called me up. Annie-Bug is very good at finding people, even when they don't want to be found ... though I believe that James Darcy can still vanish totally even for Annie-Bug."
"Thank you for that. This place is insane."
"Oh, you haven't even tried their biscuits yet ... don't judge till you've lasted at least twenty-four hours." Charlie led Annette into a packed little canteen and placed an order before settling them at a small table near the back. "So any questions?"
"What does Ashie mean by telling me to discover America?"
"Means he has no work for you and sees no point in your sitting around and doing nothing."
"Does anyone else do that?"
"Of course not." Charlie took the two cups of tea and the biscuits from the mousy looking waitress. Charlie handed one cup to Annette, then dropped her biscuit into her own cup and stirred it. "Don't even attempt to eat the biscuit without soaking it first Arnold holds that they're made of left over plate iron ... though May states that the colour is wrong and holds that they're produced by emptying our trash baskets, pulping the lot and then drying them at high temperatures ... Bob!"
"Mind if I park with you for a second?" It was Bob Webberly once more. "I see you've taken command of Neddie ... Ashie was having morning tea I think."
"He calls it second breakfast for some obscure reason he has never deigned to explain." Charlie then frowned and rolled her eyes. "Ashie has found us ... I wonder who he wants?"
"It'll be Neddie." Bob glanced up only momentarily from his tea and biscuit. "I had to deliver some file to him and he asked if I'd seen her since I'd looked into his office."
"And he responded that he'd left her in the hall. Shockingly rude behaviour and Neddie, I need you upstairs right now and looking busy." Ashie paused for the briefest of seconds at the table before looping out of the canteen by way of the counter where he collected some packet or other.
"Don't understand it at all." Charlie quickly finished her tea and lead Annette out of the canteen. "You can go anywhere you like, but if he wants you he will find you ... and that may well be at midnight."
"Midnight?" Annette glanced sharply at Charlie. "Does he never sleep?"
"He spends most of his time asleep ... but he's a decent dope for all that and he'll feed you if he has you out after hours. He usually has you out after hours because he's found something he'd forgotten about and it's due like yesterday."
"Is that what I'm wanted for right now?"
"I doubt it, he only asked you to look busy."
"There's a difference?"
"Haven't the faintest idea, but I assumed so for Annie-Bug says that Ashie is very particular about his choice of words."
"Wonderful." Annette entered the small outer office and after a brief hesitation knocked on the inner door. A violent crash, which shook the floor, punctuated her knock and was followed by a very calm 'come in'. Annette cautiously looked around the door and blinked, it looked like a bomb had gone off in the small inner office. Paper lay everywhere along with innumerable odds and ends of twisted metal, fractured wood and thick text-like books.
"A problem Neddie?"
"What am I meant to do?"
"Look busy."
"Doing what?"
"Anything ... just look busy." Ashie fished a page out of the mess and frowned at it. "I'm not at home if anyone wants me for anything at all ... and that includes George."
"George?" Annette blinked and shook her head violently.
"The King ... I'm not at home to anybody. Alright?"
"What do I tell them?"
"Anything you like ... tell 'em I'm asleep if it strikes your fancy ... or I'm in conference with Hitler ... I really don't care, just keep 'em out."
"Very good." Annette withdrew and blinked at her desk. Annette had no real idea how to go about looking busy when she had nothing to be busy about, however there was the possibility that she might at least find a typewriter if she looked in the right part of the office.
"How was it?" Annie-Bug was bouncing in an armchair when Annette let herself wearily into the flat.
"He's insane." Annette dropped into the other armchair with a deep and heartfelt groan. "Ashie is totally, completely and utterly insane."
"Why?" Annie-Bug continued to bounce.
"I don't have a typewriter ... they make a foul racket. I don't have an inbox ... .they look far too depressing. I don't have any work to do ... you want work? On top of that I was told eight times to discover America and three times my only instructions were to tell anyone who wanted to see Ashie that he was in conference with HITLER!"
"Oh, classic!" Annie-Bug nursed her ribs as she rocked with laughter.
"Annie-Bug!" Annette glared across the room. "You can tell him I quit!"
"Oh, please don't." Annie-Bug sobered up very quickly. "Or at least not until you get another job."
"Why?"
"Because you said yourself that the manuscripts don't bring in enough money. Please Button, I don't want another flatmate ... you're fun!" Annie-Bug hesitated. "Honestly, Button. I'll get you a typewriter for tomorrow if you don't quit."
"You can persuade him to put up with that nasty racket?" Annette's brows rose slowly.
"No, but Caroline could ... and failing her Jim undoubtedly could."
"What is it with James Darcy that he doesn't even have to lift a finger to get people leaping all over the place? It's not like he's the only man with power and more money than he could possibly spend in a life time."
"Oh, he's far from that status ... doesn't everyone like to have their own way?"
"Well why would Ashie give in? He was adamant today that no typewriter was going to get into that office."
"Oh, Jim won't get you a typewriter in that office ... not even Uncle Darcy could persuade Ashie to do that. Jim will just get you a nearby typewriter which you can use while discovering America or filling in appropriate papers."
"Now I am officially confused." Annette shook her head. "How is James Darcy going to get me a typewriter which isn't in my office?"
"That is not something I'd ask into ... just accept it if you get it ... but I doubt it will be any more difficult then giving the department a desk and a typewriter to go in a specific place. Forget about it, but I will be officially VERY surprised if you do not have a typewriter somewhere by tomorrow morning." Annie-Bug gave a firm nod of decision. "Now, I'm going out to dinner with Jim because Jeroen is coming to see you tonight."
"Why don't you stay?" Annette creased her brows.
"Because Jim asked me to come to dinner."
"Can't you go another night?"
"No. Now forget about it and get cooking. You can't feed Jeroen that slop I produced last night." Annie-Bug abruptly swirled from the room. "I have to dress, let me know when someone arrives."
"Alright." Annette sighed and gently rubbed her head. Not only did she have an insane employer, but James Darcy was starting to seriously annoy her with his tendency to meddle in the lives of other people.
"Oh, and you've got a letter from Mackle." Annie-Bug emerged briefly and waved at the small table where mail was put.
"Thank you." Annette shook her head and picked up the envelope. It was a thick envelope and Annette's brows rose quite a considerable distance as she felt how tightly the envelope was packed. A quick rip supplied access to the thin sheets of paper and Annette counted them quickly before emitting a soft chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Annie-Bug emerged once more.
"Forty-two pages." Annette gave another chuckle as she glanced up from her reading. "He's written a forty-two page somewhat detailed study of the running of governmental departments." Annette shook her head before turning back to it. "Or at least he calls it somewhat detailed ... it looks pretty intensely detailed at the present moment."
"Repeat what's repeatable later and remind me to bait him about working in a governmental department when I next see him."
"Do I comment yet?"
"No!" Annie-Bug whirled around and vanished back into her room while Annette chuckled and continued to read.
It was a firm knock which disturbed Annette almost an hour later and with a sigh she uncurled and went to answer the door. The man who stood outside had the appearance of a large truck, and not a new truck ... more like one which had run into a cliff and then had the cliff fall on top of it.
"Good evening." Annette controlled the desire to slam the door in his face.
"I'm Morris, miss. Here for Annie-Bug."
"Give me a moment." Annette had no hesitations about leaving the man on the doorstep. "Annie-Bug, there's a man called Morris who says he's here for you."
"Looks like a truck in bad repair?"
"Remarkably."
"You can let him in, he's quite safe ... tell him I'll be a couple of minutes."
"Very well." Annette returned to the front door and took a deep breath before opening the door and inviting the man in. James Darcy might at least have had the decency to pick his own cousin up if he had so summarily invited her to dinner ... instead he seemed to have sent a retired thug.
"Morris!" It was less than five minutes later when Annie-Bug swept into the room and Annette couldn't help but blink at the rich dress.
"Miss Annie-Bug." Morris nodded and the flat face contorted into what Annette assumed to be a smile.
"I'll be back before midnight Annette unless I call and say otherwise." Annie-Bug pulled on a thick cloak and followed Morris out the door, leaving Annette to shake her head and turn to the kitchen. There had been not the slightest hint that Jeroen might even be in London, but Annette had learnt long since that when Annie-Bug said someone was going to visit it was usually correct.
April 15th 1940 - London, England
Work: that nasty four letter word which the wise attempt to avoid.
Annette, now armed with the appropriate passes and bits of paper easily passed through the ground floor of the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries the next morning. Unfortunately that was by far the least of her problems and it was almost twenty minutes later when she finally found the small offices which she was housed in. Ashie was seated on her desk when she arrived, his attention occupied by a folder which seemed to confuse him.
"Ah-hah!" Ashie slid off the desk and closed the folder firmly. "What took you so long? Annie-Bug said you'd left an hour ago?"
"This is the first time I have been required to find this office by myself." Annette responded calmly as she deposited her bag in the corner. "Did you want me for something?"
"Merely to introduce you to your typewriter and second desk." Ashie opened his office door and threw the file into the room before banging the door firmly shut. "So, follow me and I'll perform the introductions. After that you may discover America until I come and find you."
"How long do I have?"
"I haven't the faintest idea, I'm waiting for a file and I really have no idea when it might decide to turn up ... I don't even know how it's going to turn up. Satisfied that I haven't killed your brother?"
"I've never seen a better black eye in my life." Annette paused. "Are fractured ribs and collarbones the usual accompaniments of minor crashes?"
"Minor crash is not a word which exists in the aero industry. Either you crash and survive, you crash and die or you don't crash. The last option is by far the most advisable, but the first is the only other I've experimented with ... the second option is not one I'd advise to anyone."
"Comforting." Annette frowned at the medium sized room which had about ten desks and an equal number of typewriters.
"One of these ... ah-hah!" Ashie settled with a clump on one of the desks. "This is your desk and typewriter."
"How do you know?" Annette came over and frowned in puzzlement.
"Because." Ashie hauled a piece of paper from the typewriter and brandished it as if magic had produced it. "Jim left his stamp of approval on the machine before sending it in."
"Lovely." Annette glanced briefly at the page which had been used to check the keys. A strong hand had scrawled across the bottom of the page that all keys were operational and the ink refilled. The note ended with a rather curious hieroglyphic which rather reminded Annette of the hieroglyphic that Ashie used himself when signing off pieces of paper and various files.
"Well I'll leave you to make friends with that abomination and I'll find you if I need it ... you, I'll never need it!" Ashie made a disgusted noise and stalked from the room.
"You must be Neddie." The girl at the next typewriter finally looked up as Ashie vanished. "What possessed you to get bullocked into being his secretary?"
"Nothing, I needed work."
"Don't we all ... you're not a service girl."
"No." Annette responded evenly, she couldn't say why but she disliked this girl. "Civilian."
"Siblings in the services?"
"I've a sister in the Wrens and a brother somewhat loosely connected to the RAF."
"Wow. My boyfriend hasn't joined but he'll go soon. His family have a real history with the military and I don't doubt for a second that he'll even consider not upholding it." The girl smiled, but it wasn't a smile Annette liked. "Lila Thompson."
"Neddie." Annette shook the offered hand. "If you don't mind I need to get a file I didn't finish yesterday."
"No problem." The girl turned back to her work and Annette headed for her small and dusty office in relief.
"Run it to the Med." The voice which filtered through from Ashie's office was unfamiliar and it took Annette only the tiniest of moments to decide she did not need to hurry back to the larger room. "Your friends made it plain that they would not leave their airspace."
"What word from Brian?" Ashie was obviously in the room and had the name not been familiar Annette would probably have left.
"Not a peep that I've heard since he got moved."
"Well Rome wasn't built in a day and I've told you not to come here ... rather difficult to explain if it got out."
"Yes, I noticed Lila was getting to work fast. Well, don't grow your beard too long in this place, Jeroen will possibly come by later."
"Wonderful." Ashie's dry response was the only sound in the office and after a long period of silence Annette realised that the visitor must have left. What had been meant about Lila getting to work fast?
Annette was halfway back to her other desk when she realised that with only one door there was no way Ashie's visitor could have left. Annette half turned back, hesitated and then resolutely continued to her desk. Annette was not going to pry ... or at least not until she knew for certain that the weird discussion meant something.
"You forgot your file." Lila had looked up as Annette returned to her seat.
"Oh, no. I finished the file before I came back ... just a few brief notes which Ashie wanted attached to it." Annette loaded a page into her typewriter, more than a little stunned at how easily that lie had come.
"Come in." It was less than ten minutes later when Annette had returned to her office and tapped on the inner door. Annette peered cautiously into the room before slipping around and into the room. The office was slightly neater than it had been the previous day, but that might just be because some of the papers had been kicked into a pile in the corner.
"I had a bit of an unusual question to ask." Annette glanced back out into the outer office for a second.
"Fire away ... at worst all that will happen is that I can't answer."
"How do you lie well?"
"That is unquestionably odd ... why do you want to lie well?"
"I don't like the girl I'm situated next to but it's hardly polite to request my desk moved. Therefore I need to learn how to lie well so I can have plenty of reasons for taking off when I'm tired of her."
"Can't you just tell her to shut up?"
"She's not like Annie-Bug and I do not find the thought or estranging that whole room at all encouraging."
"Good point." Ashie perched his feet on the desk. "Why do you think I'm any good at lying?"
"Not actually anything, just that it seemed logical you might know about it."
"My advice is don't lie ... just keep remembering errands to run ... remember a few you've already run as well. I'll also see whether Lila can be shifted ... but no promises there. Frankly my advice is either to insult her or suffer her."
"Thank you." Annette hesitated and glanced around the chaotic office. "What do you actually do?"
"I haven't the faintest idea actually ... but it seems mostly to concern fish in the Lake District. There's a file somewhere ... " Ashie dove into the pile of paper in the corner and emerged a few minutes later with a thick file. "This should explain a few things and will give you plenty of excuses for ignoring Lila."
"I never said who it was who irritated me."
"You didn't need to. I stayed as long as I could earlier because she will not speak to you if I am around. For some reason I cannot fathom she does not like me ... however work called and there wasn't much I could do about it. Some chap from ... Derbyshire, I think, who was complaining about some restriction or other. Trout I seem to recall. Anyway go read that and tell Lila it's critical and due yesterday ... .she won't irritate you under those circumstances for I've given her a couple of due yesterday files and she doesn't like them for some reason." Ashie deposited the newspaper on his face, very blatantly preparing to sleep.
"Surprise, surprise." Annette spoke dryly before letting herself out of the office. Annette grabbed a small jotter pad on her way through the outer office. Annette settled into her seat and scribbled a brief memo before she inspected the outside of the file Ashie had given her. The file was almost smothered in stamps, seals and stickers, most of which were red and indicated a need of urgency. Annette opened the file and groaned as it revealed a page of Ashie's shocking scrawl.
"A due yesterday file?" Lila's expression almost made the grade to commiserating. "Ashie's good at that, he forgets and then gives them to us."
"So I gathered." Annette responded flatly before groaning. "Where can I find a Greek lexicon?"
"You'll have to ask Ashie that one." Lila shook her head with a laugh. "He gave me one which he'd written mostly in Latin."
"You want this one?"
"No thanks, got my own work."
"Then I'll go ask Ashie about the lexicon." Annette took the folder with her as she departed, more than a little amused at the speed with which Lila had retracted all interest when Annette had offered her the file.
"Will you stop knocking!" This time Ashie didn't even bother with inviting Annette in.
"What am I meant to do?"
"Just walk in! At most give a knock and walk in as you do so. No need to wait for an invitation ... lexicons and dictionaries are on top of the bookshelf." Ashie removed the newspaper which rested over his face as he spoke.
"You knew why I was coming back?"
"Just wanted you to have an excuse to escape if you wanted one. Take both Greek one's and the Latin one. You speak French?"
"A bit." Annette paused at the door with her armload of lexicons.
"Do you speak as well as Jeroen?"
"Yes."
"Good, you won't need the French dictionary then ... but be aware sometimes it isn't actually the language it looks. Twiggez vous?"
"Oui." Annette had considered for less than a second responding in kind, but in the end decided she didn't really wish to risk muffing up the conjugation of a word which didn't actually exist.
"Good. Now scat ... .though never hesitate to decide you need another dictionary if Lila annoys you."
"Right." Annette shook her head as she closed the door and double-checked the lexicons and file she held before she finally returned to the pit.