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Part 10
May 11th 1940 - London, England
Insanity is a disease which feeds off itself, better to assume sanity, then to wonder about insanity and become insane. - Anonymous
"Button!" A hand shook Annette's shoulder violently. "Wake up! Come ON! Wake UP BUTTON!"
"What?" Annette squinted up against the torch and made out Annie-Bug's features. "We getting bombed or something?"
"It's no joke Button, now wake UP!"
"Why?" Annette shook her head and peered blearily at her clock, it was two in the morning and she'd only just got to sleep after a hectic day which had made her too tense for sleep.
"The Nazis are waltzing across the continent and you're needed. Which also reminds me that I was reminded to tell you that Churchill has formed a coalition government. But, you're still needed."
"Why?" Annette shook her head again as the mists of sleep slowly dissipated. "And for that matter where am I needed?"
"At the office. Ashie crashed out earlier this evening and they need him to update some files which only you have the necessary clearance to get." Annie-Bug was poking around in Annette's wardrobe with an expression of disgust.
"I'm a secretary Annie-Bug, I'm not cleared to even carry tea." Annette pushed up on one elbow and frowned as Annie-Bug pulled a pair of slacks and a shirt from the wardrobe.
"Where are your jumpers?" Annie-Bug looked up from her delving.
"Bureau." Annette pushed herself slightly higher on her elbow. "What are you doing?"
"Doing my best to get you out the door fast and in something other than a night gown ... which is what Charlie is in."
"Charlie's here?"
"Annette you are needed at the office and you are the only person who has the clearance to get those files ... you're also probably the only person who could find the files."
"Annie-Bug, I'm not cleared for anything." Annette flopped back down in disgust. "I'm a secretary ... and a second-rate one at that."
"If you socialised with the other secretaries at all you'd fast find out that none of them needed passes and identification papers to get into the department." Annie-Bug frowned in perplexity at the assortment of Annette's jumpers. "It's the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries ... there's not much there that the Huns would even be slightly interested in. However, you need pretty high level clearance because you're Ashie's secretary. You actually have the same security clearance as Ashie because in situations like right now you need to be able to grab files for him that technically his secretary shouldn't be allowed near." Annie-Bug finally selected a jumper and placed it with the clothes she had already placed out for Annette. "At risk of offending you Ashie was checking you out over a year ago, and you've been run through the mill more times than I can count to verify that you could do the job. I failed, Charlie failed ... but she never realised she was being tested. Jim passed but he refused the job. Hope would have passed but she's got her own work, and the same goes for Caroline. Kitty failed miserably as did two hundred other women who were tested. You've only been working a month and were this situation not so bad you may rest assured that I would not have received clearance to notify you of your level of security clearance. As it is they NEED those files and you're the only person who can get them."
"Can't Mackle? He worked for Ashie for a week or two." Annette finally rolled out of her bed and grabbed at the clothes Annie-Bug had laid out.
"Mackle is somewhere between Scotland and London and a trifle uncontactable as he doesn't travel with a radio on. I can assure you he would have been sent for them if he possibly could have as Ashie doesn't actually want you to resign on him ... take that as a compliment, it means that Ashie actually finds you a tolerable secretary ... which is saying more than a little. Ashie's said you can look at the files you're bringing if that helps you realise exactly how much trust he has in you." Annie-Bug stopped at the door. "I had thought you'd be better than this."
"Jeez Annie-Bug, it's two in the morning and I've only just fallen asleep. Permit me to be in a grump and wishing someone else can do the work." Annette pulled on the slacks and a pair of socks.
"Well that is a totally different matter." Annie-Bug turned around and leant against the doorframe. "Did you know that you sound exactly like Jeroen when you do that?"
"What files do I need to pick up?" Annette had long since learnt that though Annie-Bug occasionally made remarks concerning Jeroen she did not appreciate the topic at all and usually went to great lengths to avoid it. If anyone had asked Annette's opinion she would have said that Annie-Bug was still very much in love with Jeroen. However no one had asked Annette's opinion and it didn't take a genius to realise that this was another of those no go zones ... yet another which was related to James Darcy. For an invisible person James Darcy exercised an immense degree of control over Annie-Bug's life, but nothing had yet explained why he could exercise such control over her. Annette was absolutely positive now that James Darcy was the sole reason behind Annie-Bug's termination of her engagement to Jeroen, for he was undoubtedly the reason that Annie-Bug continued to not meet Jeroen even though she was living with his sister. If Annette gave James Darcy credit for anything, it was an incredibly exquisite sense of timetabling and subtlety, it had taken her a month to realise that just as all roads lead to Rome, all Annie-Bug's activities were connected to the name of James Darcy ... even if he had not shown his face even once yet. Even the media hadn't yet realised that the vanished cricketer had actually returned to London.
"I haven't the faintest idea ... I don't have your clearance." Annie-Bug waited while Annette pulled on a shirt and began to button it. "However Ashie's remark is that the title has nothing to do with fish and it isn't on the floor."
"You've spoken to Ashie?" Annette shot a sharp look at Annie-Bug, suspicion flaring anew that this was just some joke, for Annie-Bug had slowly revealed herself possessed of a wicked sense of humour with a great appreciation of human emotion.
"For about five seconds." Annie-Bug handed Annette her coat as she finished dressing and pulled her hair back into a knot. "Charlie's waiting downstairs for you. Jeroen will drive you from the office to Ashie's flat and he'll bring you home when it's all fixed up."
"Right." Annette grabbed her keys and headed for the stairs. Charlie stood next to a Humber Snipe in a heavy coat with flannel pyjamas tucked into a heavy pair of boots and a rueful grin on her face.
"Greetings, Neddie." Charlie gave a jaw-splitting yawn. "Do your instructions agree with the fact that I'm just dumping you at the office?"
"Yes." Annette jolted to a halt and frowned as she noticed a large dark shadow in the back seat. "Who's the passenger?"
"He's an obliging individual called Morris who is under strict instructions to ensure that nothing which might even be imagined to be trouble comes near you."
"Who gave the order?"
"Not Ashie ... that much I can tell you. It was a shadow in a dark doorway who hissed the instructions in a whisper ... true theatrical espionage style, he's undoubtedly here to assassinate you." Charlie opened the door of the car as she spoke. "Morris, meet Neddie."
"We've met." That voice, which seemed to emanate from the shadow's boots set to rest any doubts that Annette might have had.
"Get in Neddie, I want to get back to bed." Charlie hurried around to the driver's side as she spoke and Annette hastily slid into the front passenger seat. With a savage snarl, an over-revved engine and a savage clashing of gears the car finally jerked away and moved out. It was not the first time Annette had driven with Charlie and it wouldn't be the last, no matter how often Annette prayed the situation should change.
"Not the smoothest ride I have given to date ... but you have arrived at the office and you are in one piece and not even bruised." Charlie grinned as Annette climbed from the car in a slightly unsteady manner.
"My understanding of anatomy says the stomach and heart should be under the diaphragm and ribcage respectively ... not jammed up my throat and mashed into the back of my mouth." Annette gave a sniff before quickly running up the stairs, she was vaguely aware that Morris had left the Humber Snipe and settled near the stairs as Charlie drove off, but she was more interested in the security man who met her at the door. It took Annette only moments to have her identity fully checked before the main door was opened and Annette shot into the dark internals of the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries with the security man's second torch.
"Don't forget a torch in future ... or an extra coat." Annette smothered a shiver as she dug the keys out of her pocket and tackled first her office door, and then Ashie's inner office door. "What a mess." Annette flashed the torch around the room which seemed to be in an even greater shambles than it had ever been before. "Not on the floor and not concerned with fish." Annette started with the desk in a systematic effort of ransacking the room. Ashie might be able to just pick the relevant file up from whatever place of concealment it lay in, but for anyone else it took an exhaustive and thorough search to find anything.
It took only forty minutes to find the files which were not on the floor and were not concerned with fish ... they were inside the filing cabinet between the back of the cabinet and the top draws. Annette quickly checked the rest of the office for extra files before she finally relocked the offices and headed back down to the main door.
"Give Ashie my wishes for his quick recovery." The security man checked Annette's identification passes and papers again as he spoke.
"You're well acquainted with Ashie?" Annette accepted her passes back and looked at the man in surprise.
"Oh, he often comes back after-hours and chucks in a few hours work." The man relocked the doors. "He usually comes with your driver who is waiting for you."
"Thank you." Annette handed the man back his torch and hurried down the stairs, the files tucked deep in her coat.
"Hullo Button." Jeroen was leaning against the bonnet of an ancient silver Bentley.
"whose car is this?" Annette looked at the vehicle in astonishment.
"Ashie's ... pre-war vintage with a very much more modern engine and much modified suspension. In truth it is a very modern race car with a very old body covering it. Now get in ... we're late."
"Well that is not my fault, my instructions were not precise." Annette slipped into the front passenger seat.
"Of course they weren't, it was Ashie who issued them." Jeroen twisted his head around as he fired the engine. "Morris you in?"
"Settled reasonably comfortably." The deep voice came from behind and Annette blinked to see the man sitting on the luggage rack.
"Don't even bother asking about that luggage rack, they won't answer the question." Jeroen put the car in gear as he spoke and they moved off quickly and headed north.
"I hope you bear two files with the mystic word MAGI scrawled across them." The shadow which met them in the darkened foyer was a woman, the voice calm and cultured.
"Ask Button." Jeroen threw his own coat at a nearby hat rack and took Annette's as she finally worked free of it.
"I did." The voice audibly rolled her eyes.
"Two MAGI files and an envelope with ... well it wasn't on the floor and it didn't concern fish so I brought it." Annette waited for the shadow to move, there was no way she was handing those files to anyone but Ashie.
"Good, security minded to a reasonable degree." The shadow finally moved. "Jeroen there's tea and conversation upstairs if you can stand the idea of being in the same room as James ... Brian should arrive later."
"I thought..." Jeroen stopped abruptly.
"Precisely." The voice was leading the way up the stairs. "Alastair had apparently called for help." The shadow pushed a door open and finally snapped on a light. Annette blinked in the sudden brightness, then finally took a close inspection of the shadow and found herself inspecting a woman well past middle-age, but not yet elderly, who perfectly matched that calm and cultured voice. "I am Caroline Bingley ... which should explain a lot if Annie-Bug actually did explain our somewhat complex inter-relations."
"It does explain why I might find you here." Annette ceased squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. "Annette Fouchiard ... though I am generally referred to as Neddie."
"Then Neddie I shall call you. Go away Jeroen you are not wanted here." Caroline shut the door as she spoke and lead Annette into the living room which a month earlier had been packed, but now stood empty, though still a comfortable mess. There were two unfinished games of chess, several piles of books ranging across any imaginable subject and a small heap of paperback thrillers. Cricket equipment was piled in one corner and a large quantity of rather dirty looking metal occupied the lounge. "Tea?"
"Yes please." Annette subsided into one of the empty armchairs with a sigh and glanced at the pile of thrillers but felt not even the faintest scrap of interest. The front page illustrations seemed predominantly occupied by a woman of marked beauty and scanty attire who generally had either a knife in her back or a noose around her neck.
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait a bit for the doctor is still wiring things up."
"Wiring things up?" The wording was sufficiently odd to catch Annette's rather sleepy attention.
"I take it Annie-Bug did not trouble to explain why Ashie might be unwell then." Caroline Bingley's brows drew together slightly.
"I take it it is not a simple cold or fever."
"Nothing is simple when it comes to Ashie ... and a cold or a fever wouldn't even warrant a mention, let alone time off. 'Not too bad' in Ashie-speak translates back to general English as 'I should probably be in hospital but my mind is otherwise occupied than with my health'. The doctors don't like him at all, but he stubbornly refuses to die so they have to keep treating him when he does get sick enough to admit the need of a medic." Caroline handed Annette a cup of tea before looking through a nearby door and into a well-lit room. "Looks like we'll be waiting quite a few minutes yet." Caroline came back and settled into an armchair. "How do you find Ashie as an employer?"
"Umm." Annette choked on her tea and intently studied the carpet.
"Well a week ago, what was your opinion of him?"
"Lazy and very easy going ... perhaps a bit dim" Annette hesitated only briefly before deciding to speak the truth in all its unvarnished glory. "Forgetful, but possessing plenty of charm for ensuring that others do the work he has forgotten." Annette paused again. "He's fair and generous, never hesitating to ensure that it is well-known that one of the girls did the work if they did. He bought dinner in if he kept us late on forgotten work and he tends to fork out generous tips to people who do stay late. However it is aggravating not knowing whether you're going to be asked to stay late at the office or not."
"Ah ... fiancé or boyfriend?"
"He says he'll marry me when he can support me ... he doesn't want a wife who works in an office."
"Interesting ... I hope he has a lot of patience for you'll probably test him pretty high."
"He's only had a single day in London since I started and Ashie gave me that off." Annette slowly started to relax, Miss Caroline Bingley did not seem all that terrifying regardless of what Annie-Bug and the newspapers might say.
"Nice of Ashie to do that. He in the services?"
"He's in the Supply Department of the RAF, Lieutenant Rory Halifax."
"Nice ... he been there for long?"
"Joined in December last year." Annette let go the last of her defensiveness. "He was an Insurance Clerk but the firm downsized and he was encouraged to enlist. We're both hoping he'll be posted to London, or at least closer to London than Cornwall."
"That is quite a way." Caroline nodded. "What do you do other than play secretary to Ashie? Both he and Annie-Bug have mentioned a lot of typewriting work on your part."
"I type and edit manuscripts ... though I've been promised a translation."
"Ever thought of writing yourself?"
"Not really, but I'd infinitely prefer a biography or suchlike if I did decide to."
"Jeroen called you Button." The look Caroline gave her was rather peculiar. "Were you aware that you write letters which can reduce entire rooms to near hysterics ... you still writing to Mackle?"
"Not recently." Annette flushed slightly, between Ashie, the manuscripts and the news that Mackle was out of hospital she had almost forgotten about him.
"Well try not to forget totally about him, being an invalid at anytime is boring ... during a war it is worse than boring, it is deeply frustrating and it is so easy for those of us who are able to forget about them."
"But..." Annette hesitated.
"Don't underrate yourself, as a correspondent your letters mean more to Mackle then the rest of us put together. You have an interesting perspective on the world which we have essentially no access to. Our access previously was through Mackle and so we've lost that access and he's lost that part of the world as well. Mackle may be out of the hospital, but that does not mean he is not still an invalid ... he still can't walk, though the doctors says that the paralysis is only temporary and should pass within the next couple of months.
"I heard he was Ashie's secretary for a week."
"That was an act of desperation and all that happened was he nearly returned himself to the hospital." Caroline wrinkled her nose in disgust. "If he'd just sit back and wait I have no doubt at all but that he'd stop contracting pneumonia and probably heal a sight faster than he is. As it is he's firmly tied to the belief that he has to get mobile and active as soon as possible and nothing will stop him in that objective."
"Miss Bingley." A tired looking doctor came into the room. "We will be finished in ten minutes and he demands that we notify you that he won't have a shirt on." The doctor retreated and Caroline rolled her eyes.
"He is a tiresome man that doctor ... but he also happens to be one of the best." Caroline sipped on her now cool tea. "My advice for you when you go in is to focus on his eyes and his words and totally ignore everything else."
"Why?" Annette gave a small shiver.
"Because he's no object of great beauty when he's well and he looks a sight worse when he's sick."
"Well can you possibly tell me what is wrong with him?"
"Let's just say that on occasion his kidneys don't function as they should. Ashie's got an intense dislike of the various health asylums this country has ... and I might as well add that they've got an equally intense dislike of him. As a result when they pack it in he gets home treatment from a fairly well respected medico who is a dead bore and only comes because he's paid a fortune."
"His Lordship wants the envelope." It was a harassed looking nurse who came out.
"Which envelope." Caroline's enquiry sent the nurse back into the room from which she re-emerged moments later.
"The envelope Neddie should have."
"Well tell him his secretary is security minded so you'd better throw a sheet over him unless you want to greatly embarrass someone."
"Very well." The nurse vanished back into the room and a minute later re-emerged to hold open the door. "His Lordship is now ready to see you."
"Thank you." Caroline stood up and indicated that Annette should follow her.
"So, how did it go?" Annie-Bug pounced on Annette as she let herself in the front door.
"Annie-Bug, it is ten o'clock in the morning and I have had precisely half an hour sleep in the passed twenty-eight hours. I can tell you that Ashie is not dead and I did deliver the files. However Caroline Bingley has given me firm instructions that I am not permitted to tell you any more before six o'clock this evening. I am also instructed that I am to retire to bed now and not rise before five-thirty ... Caroline is coming to sample your scrambled eggs at six and you will be acquainted then with what happened."
"But..."
"Annie-Bug, I'm tired and I feel very ill indeed. Please, just let me get some sleep before I start crying." Annette abruptly fled for her room.
"But..." Annie-Bug whispered the word once more as her chin jolted violently and tears started into her eyes. "...I've just made some hot chocolate." Annie-Bug savagely wiped away her tears. "Would you like some?"
"This is probably more useful than your sleeve." The large blue handkerchief was pushed into Annie-Bug's hand. "And I'll certainly sample your chocolate if it's offered to me as well."
"Thanks." Annie-Bug wiped her eyes again before blowing her nose vigorously. "Sorry, didn't know you'd come up."
"I doubt Button would have been able to get up here by herself, she's been vilely ill. I also happened to feel fairly confident that you'd have stayed up yourself and need ordering to bed." Jeroen gave Annie-Bug a gentle push towards the kitchen.
"Is Ashie really alright?"
"Of course not ... but he's not going to die and I suspect he intends to accompany Caroline tonight provided he's well enough to actually do it."
"Chocolate, tea or what?"
"Chocolate ... is it too much to ask for breakfast?"
"Scrambled eggs, toast and marmalade alright?"
"Sounds grand thanks." Jeroen settled on one of the stools.
"How's James?" Annie-Bug prodded at the frypan with a fork before abruptly cracking some eggs into it.
"Currently watching Ashie I believe." Jeroen accepted the large mug of chocolate that Annie-Bug offered him. "You free for today or on duty?"
"Free unless called in." Annie-Bug prodded the eggs again before settling on a tall stool.
"Then go to sleep when you've finished feeding me ... you look haggish!"
"James said the same." Annie-Bug took a sip of her own chocolate. "When do you fly out again?"
"This evening provided the weather's clear ... got some people to pick up before the Nazis find them."
"Can you tell me what the fuss was about last night?"
"No." Jeroen buttered the toast that Annie-Bug handed him. "I've got no idea what's happening." Jeroen handed a slice to Annie-Bug. "Eat it."
"I thought I was meant to be feeding you."
"You are." Jeroen bit into his own toast. "But food likes company and I'm really not interested in watching you starve yourself."
"I'm not..."
"When did you eat breakfast?" Jeroen tilted his head in challenge.
"Umm." Annie-Bug abruptly became fascinated with her bare toes, before yelping and scurrying to the frypan and hastily scraping out some eggs which, though not burnt, were very well browned and thoroughly cooked.
"Thank you." Jeroen fearlessly dug into the eggs and nodded in response to Annie-Bug's offer of more chocolate. "These aren't half bad considering that you forgot them ... have some." Jeroen loaded up a slice of toast and handed it to Annie-Bug.
"Would you feed Button like this?" Annie-Bug spoke as she finished eating.
"No." Jeroen finished off the eggs. "But neither does Button have your propensity of totally forgetting to eat when she's tired, worried or both." Jeroen finished his chocolate. "Now off to bed with you. They know I'm here so I'll do a telephone watch for you."
"Thanks." Annie-Bug carefully placed the frypan in the sink and checked that the stove was all off before leaving the room. Jeroen waited a couple of minutes before he rose, placed his own dishes in the sink, and moved into the sitting room where he settled in a distinctly ugly but very comfortable armchair. Jeroen leant back with a sigh and stared distractedly at his hands for a long moment before abruptly shaking his head and pulling a thick and battered wad of maps from under his coat.
"It is not yet five-thirty." It was not even four when Jeroen looked up an saw Annette standing uncertainly in the hall.
"I can't get back to sleep." Annette pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders. "Why are you here?"
"Telephone watch."
"Oh." Annette frowned. "You've been here since this morning?"
"Yes."
"You found food?"
"Annie-Bug gave me breakfast and I found lunch a couple of hours ago."
"I hope it was edible."
"The eggs were a bit brown, but quite edible." Jeroen's tone dried up slightly.
"Sorry, didn't mean it like that ... she gets distracted and forgets about food ... she's a very good cook if she keeps her mind on it." Annette finally came into the sitting room and curled up in the other armchair.
"Feeling better?"
"Much." Annette hesitated. "But I'm not certain how I'm going to respond to Ashie next time I see him."
"Just forget about it." Jeroen gave a small grin. "Ashie will deal with that when the time comes ... probably by hauling you into his office on some utterly pointless and facetious point and driving you halfway to distraction."
"You upset with me?" Annette had spent several minutes studying Jeroen's face before she finally spoke.
"Why do you ask?" Jeroen parried passively.
"You're wearing the expression you tend to wear when you hear that I've got a date with Rory."
"Have you?"
"Not tonight and stop trying to change the subject. What have I done?"
"It's not your problem Button. Yes, I'm a bit upset with you ... but that's purely because I've developed unreal expectations of your character."
"Translation of that says that I have done something that you consider rude, thoughtless or both ... What have I done?"
"You reduced Annie-Bug to tears this morning ... I hope that you're not surprised that I'm a trifle perturbed."
"I'm not ... why did I cause Annie-Bug to cry?"
"She was only trying to offer you a cup of hot chocolate to take to bed with you this morning ... Annie-Bug usually stands guard on those occasions when Caroline is not available. She's had no more sleep than you've had and likely less, but she's still trying to be helpful ... try not to be so short with her."
"Why's she had less sleep? She says she sleeps fine."
"She probably does ... but she's not got the actual hours to do the sleeping in." Jeroen shook his head wearily. "I'm just a bit worried about her Button, she's working hard ... harder than she's ever worked ... " Jeroen shook his head again. "Too hard actually." It was barely even a whisper.
"Why don't you visit when she's around then?"
"I'm not allowed to. I'm currently here under special dispensation because James is also worried, but otherwise I am not allowed near her."
"Bu ... " Annette bit down on her words in response to a look from Jeroen. "Why is so much related to James Darcy not to be spoken of?"
"Darcy Secrecy Act which you'll probably meet officially within the next year. Just after the last war stuff was getting leaked totally unintentionally to the media so the Darcy Secrecy Act was brought into being by a group of men. It's not a legally quotable clause and nothing will really happen if you do break it ... except that James Darcy is likely to become majorly annoyed at you and the media will adore you. The unspoken situation is that James Darcy is that act ... though it can also be extended to anything he cares to bring under its protection. So much connected to James Darcy is not to be spoken of because he is the secrecy act and if you're under the act then you are expected to abide by its restrictions ... which means that James Darcy is not a topic of conversation that you encourage beyond what gets into the newspapers anyway. If you're not under the act then it's highly unlikely that you know enough to gossip about beyond what's in the newspapers." Jeroen scrunched his nose up thoughtfully.
"It's also a nice excuse to use when we've been asked to explain something that is just without explanation." Annie-Bug was similarly wrapped up in a blanket as she shuffled into the sitting room. "I heard voices so I gave up on trying to sleep." Annie-Bug blinked sleepily around the room for a moment before she shuffled across and sat down on Jeroen.
"You can explain if Jim walks in." Jeroen shifted slightly so Annie-Bug could curl up more comfortably.
"D.S.A." Annie-Bug gave a small wriggle before settling.
"That's how you invoke the Darcy Secrecy Act." Jeroen shifted once more before finally turning back to Annette. "So what did you make of last night?"
"Nothing ... except that Ashie very obviously is involved in something other than counting trout in Derbyshire when he misses half a week."
"I'll back that up, he's flying with me usually. What happens for you when he does come north?"
"I get to poke through his In Box after the paperwork he's forgotten to give me to complete ... very tedious ... but I do get lunch on time and I do get a lot of work done."
"You don't usually get to lunch on time?" Jeroen blinked.
"Not unless I place a big red note on Ashie's door that Neddie wants lunch at one o'clock." Annette gave a smile.
"And I believed that twit when he said that only flying made Ashie forget the time." Jeroen shook his head in disgust before frowning as the telephone rang. "Hello?" Jeroen hooked up the telephone and listened with a concentrated frown before dumping it back in the receiver. "Duty calls and Caroline is not coming for dinner tonight." Jeroen gently pushed Annie-Bug off him and stood up. "Mackle's caught pneumonia again and is headed for hospital as we speak ... Caroline wants you up there Annie-Bug because she can't go."
"Can Button drive?" Annie-Bug looked uncertainly between Jeroen and Annette.
"Yes." Annette frowned.
"She means are you in a suitably refreshed condition to drive a hundred miles tonight?" Jeroen was checking his pockets as he spoke.
"I think so." Annette looked curiously at Jeroen.
"Annie-Bug is not so you are chauffeuring her." Jeroen finally grabbed his overcoat and headed for the door. "I'll see you another time Button." The door slammed behind Jeroen.
"He won't see you?" Annette blinked in confusion.
"He probably won't have permission to see me." Annie-Bug gave a shiver before shuffling for her room. "Need to pack."
"Where are we going?"
"Derbyshire!" Annie-Bug pulled two small suitcases out of the chest in the front hall and gave one to Annette. "We'll probably be a couple of nights so pack nightclothes and a change of clothes."
"Right." Annette hurried into her own room and began throwing clothes into the suitcase. Inside of ten minutes they were seated in Annie-Bug's Bentley and headed for Derbyshire.
Part 11
May 26th 1940 - Derbyshire, England
The most tragic thing about the war was not that it made so many dead men, but that it destroyed the tragedy of death. - John Peale Bishop
"Magi ... Magi ... Do you remember Stephenson pushing old Lothar into that tree?" Ashie glanced up abruptly from the book he was reading and looked across at Pyro who was bent over the chessboard.
"Not likely I'll ever forget." Pyro glanced up with a slight frown. "You were hopping mad for weeks after that."
"That was not why I was hopping mad." Ashie responded stiffly.
"No, of course not." Pyro returned his attention to the chessboard. "Probably never even crossed your mind that Lothar was trouble. Probably also never occurred to you to spend the previous pile of months trying to nail him yourself. Definitely you did not have a raging fight with old Johnstone about getting permission to take a special flight to nail the buggar." Pyro finally took his move.
"Wonderful, that only took you twenty minutes." Ashie cast his book aside and huddled back over his end of the chessboard. "Johnstone was rather funny that day wasn't he."
"Old Icey was even funnier, he was hopping mad with you Ashie and raining curses on your head which would have made a Bedouin blush." Pyro picked up a nearby textbook as he spoke.
"I carefully refrain therefore from remembering an occasion when you were raining curses on my head ... I seem to recall I upended a glass of water over your head." Ashie tapped the side of the chessboard thoughtfully.
"That was before I cursed you ... I primarily cursed you because you introduced us to Camels and killed off half the squadron."
"Only half? I seem to recall the green-baby was about the only non-Cad who survived that little exercise." Ashie moved his seat so he studied the board from side on.
"The green-baby refused to even get into one, said he actually wanted to arrive at 175 alive ... can't understand why." Pyro frowned at his page and began scribbling on a nearby jotter.
"We got four rotten Pups out of them ... S.E.5s?"
"No, they were changing to Bristols." Pyro abruptly closed his book. "Katt wanted a figg jam sandwich that morning. That boy had the weirdest taste buds on the planet."
"Batty wanted Barley Sugars." Ashie finally made his move. "Remember the blue sod?"
"Do I never." Pyro glared at the board, then looked up as there was a sudden movement. "Sorry Nelli, we'll try to be silent."
"No." Nelli shook her head slightly. "I was just going to speak to the nurses."
"Joy of joys." Pyro returned his attention to the board as Nelli closed the door behind herself. "She was lying wasn't she?"
"Yes." Ashie responded calmly. "However she is kind enough to realise that we are not just being vulgar and insensitive. Do you think the doctors will deliver the verdict soon?"
"No." Pyro shifted a pawn three squares. "That is rule 72 ... just in case you've forgotten."
"Rubbish, it's rule 25." Ashie glared at the board again. "Is rule 32 still invoked?"
"I thought you were meant to be educated." Pyro glanced over the top of his book. "Of course rule 32 is still active, as if I'd let you change to suicide when your pawn is practically sitting on my poor queen and I've got your silly King cornered."
"Rule 172 ... what is that rule?"
"A or B?" Pyro glanced at the board.
"A."
"I think that is the rule that states that no move is illegal unless it makes Pyro start to lose."
"I'll use it then." Ashie shifted his knight and then grinned as Pyro bent over the chessboard. "Don't tell me you brought office work with you?" The look Ashie gave as Annette laid her book aside and pulled a file from her bag was horrified.
"Just a manuscript." Annette sharpened her pencil. "I'm rather of the opinion you'd burn any office work which came up here."
"That was not my problem, Bob should have come for it sooner."
"What, what, what?" Pyro looked up sharply. "What's this and burning files?"
"Bob was an ass and did not come to collect some files I asked him to collect."
"What he said was that Bob had better come pick up the files before he burnt them ... Bob thought he was merely joking and so did not foreshorten his lunch to get them ... so Ashie burnt them." Annette scribbled a small note on the manuscript before carefully changing to a different sheet of paper.
Dear Rory,
So far the letter had progressed not a millimetre beyond that banal beginning and Annette was feeling a trifle depressed with it. In the other file, hidden in her room at the inn so Ashie would not know that she did have work along, there was a letter to Mackle, the first in rather a long period of time ... it currently sat at three pages.
"Oh, that all." Pyro returned his attention to the board. "Have you heard anything of the green-baby lately?"
"No ... but Jack Carrigan is trying to get back into the army."
"That man is off his nut."
I continue to reside at this hospital which I am beginning to think is a hospital for the mentally unwell, not the physically unwell. Lord James was playing cricket in the hall and woke the whole place up when he sent the ball through the wall. Anyone who might have slept through the original crash was undoubtedly woken by the fight which resulted. Lord James, exercising his rights as a peer of the realm, stated that he had no intention whatsoever of repairing the wall. This brought Nelli into the situation and with her came Annie-Bug. Then Pyro came to back up Ashie's intention of not repairing the wall, he stated that it was a novel and artistic addition and that Ashie should probably autograph it for posterity. Eventually Miss Bingley arrived on the scene and with a distinctly arctic eye she told everyone to be quiet before curtly and precisely telling everyone where to go ... which was to bed. The wall is still not repaired and the hospital cleaning staff is unhappy, though the medical staff seems relatively undisturbed by the whole situation. Perhaps they are used to it for they all seem very well acquainted with Lord James.I think I must be developing immunity to Lord James for I have been having the office paperwork forwarded every couple of days so he does not return to a flooded In Tray. My official instructions were in fact to forget about the paperwork, but I realise I am not that insane yet for I know you have leave upcoming and I will make sure I am free for it. I suspect that Lord James would faint if he returned to the Office and he saw how much paperwork actually amassed in a fortnight. However doing paperwork late at night is not particularly fun and I will be glad when Ashie finally decides to return to the office.
The current topic of conversation around me seems centred on some person they call Green-Baby. Is this an RAF term that Jeroen does not use? Or is it one of those aristocratic things. They were talking about the Green-Baby in relation to Camels when I came in so I assume he was some acquaintance from the Great War.
The atmosphere here makes me feel sick. There is so much denial and falsity among these people. Lord James and Pyro are playing yet another of their supposed games of chess which really have no point at all and never seem to be finished. It is trite and I am tired, why cannot they just admit that invasion is imminent and they might just have to stop fiddling around and actually start working.
Annette pushed the letter aside with a sigh and inspected the room with a somewhat jaundiced eye. Ashie and Pyro were engrossed both in their conversation of do you remembers, and in the game of chess, while simultaneously reading books. It was not a room which was in any way indicative of the fact that Hitler was due to cross the channel at any moment. Neither was it a room which showed any signs of the fact that the remains of the Expeditionary Force and a reasonably large number of French soldiers were even now cornered in Normandy with nowhere to go. The room was shallow, almost farcical in its imitation of normal life. Ashie's garish robe clashed horribly with the senses and the triteness of the conversation clamoured loud against the ears. Yet something jarred at the back of Annette's mind, a strange note or memory which hung within the room disrupting it's trite ignorance. However she is kind enough to realise that we are not just being vulgar and insensitive. It was a curious sentence which Ashie had uttered earlier, curious enough that it nagged at Annette's mind, disrupting her comfortable analysis of the occupants. Charlie had once observed that Ashie was very particular in his choice of words. The past two months had more than born that observation out, and Annette could now determine whether any work actually awaited her when Ashie called her to his office.
A fortnight ago there had been a brief flurry which hinted that appearances might be deceiving in the office, but since that night there had been nothing. It now seemed more like a bit of stray imagination, or a silly dream than an actual event. Annette had studied her passes, but they appeared like perfectly normal identity cards, indicating nothing special or unusual.
Just like the office occasionally jarred with strange vibes did this room jar with a strange current at times. A sentence which didn't really seem quite as trite as it sounded.
"HI!" It was a small RNVR sub-lieutenant who came charging into the room followed by a wispy scrap of pale humanity who Annette had a nasty, sinking feeling she had met before.
"I didn't say anything." Ashie glanced up from the chessboard. "Oh, it's you Claude ... what brings you out here?"
"A little charmer which no one in the department wants to touch."
"Well, what is it?"
"Some sort detonator we think ... awfully sensitive to movement."
"Well chuck it over." Ashie held out a hand and Annette couldn't help but flinch as the small black object flew across the room to be neatly fielded by Ashie.
"Nice catch, they want a report ASAP and preferably legible."
"Neddie will write it up then." Ashie was turning the detonator over in his hands as Claude and the sub-lieutenant retreated. "Chuck us a hammer will you Pyro, need to find out what this little lady has inside."
"It could be self-determining." Pyro handed the hammer over and watched as Ashie settled the detonator on the chessboard.
"Possibly." Ashie struck the detonator a sharp blow before tilting his head to listen.
"Did it tick?" Pyro looked enquiring.
"I don't think so." Ashie hit the detonator a second time before frowning darkly at it. "No, I don't think it's self-determining. However we'll soon find out why they think it is movement sensitive."
"Not an aerial bomb?"
"No." Ashie shook his head firmly. "Jim had blueprints for aerials a few years back and it's totally the wrong setup. I'm more inclined towards a marine mine ... chuck a magnet over will you."
"Use your own." Pyro settled back in his seat before groaning.
"What?" Ashie looked up from the detonator.
"You killed your own King." Pyro indicated the unhappy King which had been felled by the hammer.
"Sorry." Ashie grabbed the hammer and applied it to the other King. "Now we're even."
"True." Pyro picked up his book as Ashie waved a medium-sized magnet over the detonator.
"I think ... I think I'll see if Annie-Bug is awake yet." Annette abruptly decided that she really did not wish to be in the room.
"Right." Ashie's response was distracted as he applied the hammer to the detonator again.
June 5th 1940 - London, England
I was told that no place on earth was more dangerous than a battlefield. I disagree! From the very depths of my size fourteen boots I disagree. There is no place more dangerous than the office of an enthusiastic scientist! - Anonymous RNVR officer
Annette pondered the typewriter which sat in front of her. It was quite a good model, yet not really different from any of the other typewriters. The paper it held was perfectly ordinary paper, the same as any other paper in any other typewriter in the room.
"Why do you stare at your typewriter?" If there was anything that Annette had not missed while in Derbyshire it was Lila's inquisitive nosiness and her confidence that she knew what was best for the entire world.
"Because I'm afraid it will walk away if I don't watch it."
"You're funny you know." Lila's laugh was silvery.
"I'm glad you find me so." Annette frowned at the file next to her before abruptly rising. "Sorry, need another dictionary."
"You're looking almost irate." Ashie looked up from Annette's desk as she came into the outer office.
"I am ... what are you doing at my desk?"
"Looking for a wayward detonator."
"In my desk?"
"Well that's where all the others are."
"Why are they in my desk?"
"Ran out of space in mine ... but then again it may not be ... ah-HAH!" Ashie dove for something in a nearby pile of paper, emerging with a large lump of metal about the size of his fist.
"That doesn't look like a detonator." Annette eyed the object askance.
"Did I call it one? Sorry ... just a shell Claude dropped off. I don't think it will work though, theory is lousy for the RAF and the idea rather clumsy ... this is less than half the shell and it's purpose is not to flatten a building." Ashie dropped the shell on Annette's desk. "Not sensitive enough by half either ... I'll tell them to throw it at the Navy." Ashie picked the shell up again and dropped it into his pocket before vanishing into his office.
"Wonderful day." Annette pulled open her top draw and blinked, it was filled with a rather intriguing assortment of metal lumps, definitely not the paper she expected to find. "Ashie!"
"What?" Ashie glanced up from the shell he was halfway through sawing up as Annette came into his office.
"Is that the shell you were looking for?" Annette stared at the shell in confusion.
"Oh no, just a bit of fun Claude handed to me." Ashie stopped sawing. "What did you want?"
"I want to know where my paper has gone."
"How should I know?"
"Because your detonators are where they used to be."
"Oh those aren't my detonators, they're heading for the Admiralty if Lane ever gets over here to pick them up."
"Where is my paper?"
"I didn't touch your paper ... and I hope you didn't fiddle with those detonators."
"If you didn't touch my paper how did those detonators get in my paper draw?"
"I don't actually know, I just know where they're headed."
"Thank you." Annette turned and stalked from both offices, she needed paper and she needed it immediately, which meant waiting around for a new order to arrive wasn't possible.
"Annette?" It was a startled query and Annette turned around to find Rory coming quickly towards her.
"Rory? When ... what ... why are you here?"
"We brought an assignment up. Are you busy?" Rory came to a halt with a smile.
"I don't know." Annette blinked and shook her head. "I'll check with Ashie."
"I've only got lunch off-duty, but I was hoping..."
"Relax Rory, I just have to ask Ashie ... though I'm almost certain he won't have anything for me to do." Annette hastily dove into the office and found Ashie frowning at the dismembered shell on his desk.
"Back again?" Ashie fished a piece of metal out of the mess and threw it out the window, a sharp little detonation was the result and Ashie scribbled some note on a nearby jotter. "Yes, you're free for lunch and you can tell Rory I was investigating a new method for trout containment."
"Is it?" Annette eyed the pile doubtfully.
"Only if you also seek to kill the trout. This little charmer in water would make a rare mess of anything organic. However." Ashie looked up sharply. "That is not for Rory to know about ... D.S.A. in other words and you can tell them it works on some principle of sound waves and their effect in water and I accidentally activated it."
"You can expound later." Annette retreated and found Rory standing next to Lila in the corridor.
"Annette, I brought your files back because I thought you might have finished with them." Lila looked away from Rory with a smile as Annette came to a halt next to them.
"Thank you." Annette accepted the three files and retreated to the outer office to place them in a filing cabinet. Lila had been annoying before the trip to Derbyshire, now Annette felt distinct distrust and almost fear of her. Annette was distinctly unhappy to see Lila talking to Rory, but relieved to find her gone on her return, hopefully it was just a touch of irrational and paranoid jealousy.
" ... I was talking to Elliday at the time, he was the Supply Major, and this ridiculous shrimp of a Pilot Officer tried to tell us off for not saluting. So many of them are the most arrogant of sweeps ... " Rory broke off, his expression irritated and focused on something over Annette's shoulder.
"Problem?"
"No." Rory responded shortly. "Just an unwanted reminder of the realities of this world."
"Tell."
"Oh it was just this ... incoming." Rory glared at his coffee as Annette finally overcame her reluctance to display bad manners and look for the source of Rory irritation.
"Oh." Annette blinked for it was Ashie who was making his way leisurely through the crowded cafe and he was flanked by Annie-Bug and a total stranger.
"Sorry to disturb you Neddie." Ashie dumped a buff folder on the tabletop. "Give that a squiz will you, I want a summary after lunch."
"But..." Annette carefully separated the folder from her sandwich.
"It's the fish again ... or at least I think it is. Makes no sense at all and I'm meant to talk about it with the Big White Chief tonight."
"When do you want it by?" Annette was already pulling a pen out of her cuff.
"Before seven, I meet him at the Savoy at eight." Ashie turned away before turning back. "This is Claude by the way."
"How do you do." Annette nodded politely and got an equally polite nod in response.
"We wish to invade you tonight and Annie-Bug said that you are the one to ask if you mind five burly military types descending on you."
"Oh." Annette blinked and then glanced at Annie-Bug who responded by inscribing a J in the air. "Ah, right ... .no, no problem at all. Do you want dinner?"
"If that's a serious offer we'll seriously accept it ... unless you serve pulp out of a can."
"No." Annette gave a small chuckle. "I promise, no sludge and no pulp ... but it won't be the Savoy."
"Oh, with the exception of Brian we're Ace of Spade types ... and he only ever Savoys under threat of his mother or a really important date."
"I'll keep that in mind." Annette gave a brief but definite nod of farewell before turning back to her lunch, an irritated Rory and the buff folder.
"Has he no manners?" Rory was underway almost before Ashie and his convoy had moved away. "To just interrupt like that without even having the common decency to appologise."
"That was Wing-Commander Lord James Ashington-Frankston, he is my employer and though he let me leave the office for lunch I am technically still working and required to supply any aide to him that I can." Annette paused before giving a small chuckle. "I suspect it didn't even occur to him that it might be considered rude to so interrupt."
"How can you possibly tolerate him? Such ... such arrogance, insensitive ... such sheer ... to have so little respect for fellow humans who just happen ... the ignorance, the intolerance ... such an insular and protected existence ... that he might even claim to being a person who lives a real life." Rory shook his head and sipped his tea before resuming his expatiation on the subject of Ashie and his type of humanity. Annette found her attention caught by a dark-browed man who was rising from the table behind Rory. The man shook his head in mocking disgust before giving Annette an almost apologetic grin which Annette couldn't help but respond to. Annette then promptly buried her attention in the buff folder, though there was a fair chance that Rory would not have notice her lapse in attention.
"You're not listening." Rory's irritated growl finally broke through Annette's fascination in the file.
"Sorry Rory." Annette rubbed her face, desperately hoping that what she felt inside did not show on her face. "I'm sorry, but he can get really short if things get near the time limits and I've already had an hour and a half for lunch. I was listening, but I do need to at least start reading this."
"No one could read that! It's illegible." Rory closed the file with a sigh. "You've got to stand up for yourself Annie! Don't let them bully you around. You're too sensitive for your own good, you need to be stronger."
"But Rory..."
"Alright I'll compromise today. You have one more cup of tea with me, and then I'll escort you back to the office and you can write this ridiculous summary."
"Thank you Rory." In a way Annette was actually relieved not to have to really face the contents of that file. For all Ashie's remarks the file did not concern fish, it seemed preoccupied with the MAGI and Dunquerque and the handwriting was not Ashie's. In fact Annette was rather of the opinion that the file had merely been written at great speed and in little or no light. It had been almost a month since Annette's last encounter with a MAGI file and she was beginning to suspect that she might see more of them before the end of the year.
"What does D.S.A. mean?"
"Sorry?" Annette looked at Rory in bewilderment.
"It's scribbled in red ink on every page." Rory indicated the file which he was flipping through while they waited for the new tea.
"Rory this is a confidential file." Annette hastily closed the file again. "D.S.A. merely specifies the department the pages are from. When I do the fresh draft I'll put D.A.F. on top of every page."
"Surely it would be easier to just label the folder and keep all the pages within."
"Possibly, but Lord James works in an office where files are very poorly treated and most people label all pages just so when a clean-up does occur the pages aren't consigned to the rubbish."
"Always the same these aristocrats ... "
"Rory, I really need to get back to the office. He'll fire me if he gets too worried and I need this job." Annette hastily interrupted before Rory could get into the stride of his oratory against the aristocracy.
"As I was saying, these aristocrats are all the same ... " Rory resumed almost exactly where he had left off, but he was also rising and arranging for the bill to be paid as he did so. Annette couldn't remember Rory being this tiresome, but perhaps it was merely tiredness which made him so irritable. Soon she would be back in the office and Ashie had all but promised that she would be released before seven unless another emergency arose. Unfortunately that still left five visitors and Annie-Bug was not going to be in as one of them would Jeroen, that left dinner to be prepared before the crowd arrived at some unspecified time. Just as Annette had a nasty feeling that she had seen only the faintest beginning of the MAGI files she also had a feeling that her life, which had been so ordered and right to date, was starting to be turned completely on its head.
Part 12
June 24th 1940 - London, England
Always expect the unexpected ... and therefore the unexpected does not exist.
"Awfully sorry Old Fruit, but things are a trifle busy." The words sank Annette's heart through the soles of her shoes and killed all hope of her request being granted at five-thirty on a dismal afternoon as she lifted her hand to knock before entering the inner office. Whether the day, in itself, had been dismal Annette had no idea as she had started it before the sun rose. However the nature of the day had been very dismal and had started, as per usual with the Newspaper.
Hitler's Terms: Complete Capitulation
If that hadn't been a bad enough sight to meet one over the breakfast table, the attached article concerning Germany's armistice with France more than assured that the day would be bad. The euphoria of the raging success of Dunkirk had quickly passed, being succeeded by the realisation that on Hitler's Timetable the next entry read 'London, England'. For Annette there hadn't even been time to feel euphoric over Dunkirk. In fact there was barely even time to sleep for the fish in Derbyshire seemed determined to create a maximum amount of paperwork in a minimum length of time.
"You look doleful." It was Lila who spoke on Annette's return to the general pit. Lila with her silvery laugh and irritating questions.
"I'm tired." Any other day Annette might have taken the trouble to be polite to Lila, but today she was just too tired and depressed to be even slightly tactful. "I'm tired and I have four more files to do before I can go ... that and I'm meant to be going out for dinner tonight." Annette slumped wearily into her seat and glared at the pile of folders which lay next to her typewriter. There was no way she was ever going to get the files done before she was meant to meet Rory ... in fact it would be little short of a miracle if she got them finished before midnight even.
"NEDDIE!" The intercom spat irritably and with a roll of her eyes Annette rose and headed back to the small double office where Ashie lurked and Annette lurked as often as she could. If she had known Ashie would call her so soon she wouldn't have troubled returning to the pit.
"You wanted something?" Annette had applied a friendly and enquiring smile to her face before she looked into the inner office.
"No." Ashie looked up with a dark frown, his silver hair ruffled out of its usual neat order and a large smudge disfiguring the end of his nose. "I have an order for you. GO HOME!"
"But..."
"Box the whole lot of them and bring them in here."
"They're all due at least yesterday if not last week."
"I can write ... on odd occasions when things get sufficiently desperate." Ashie's frown became irritated. "Now, leg it before I change my mind and you have to call Mrs. Gardiner to intercept Rory and appologise for your inability to fulfill your dinner engagement."
"I'll see you tomorrow morning." Annette had learnt exactly how whimsical Ashie could be during the past months and she knew that only one protest would ever be tolerated before a favourable decision would be reversed, it was much better to just seem selfish and make a run for it in such cases.
"Just what are all of these for?" Caroline Bingley grabbed the two boxes James Darcy was balancing somewhat perilously on top of each other. The two boxes went onto a nearby table before Caroline dove for Ashie's box.
"I gave Neddie the night off." Ashie flexed his hands stiffly with a grimace of pain. "That stuff is not working, Caroline."
"You expected it to?" James' expression was one of polite disbelief.
"Oh, shi-uh-tup!" Ashie shook his head before burrowing into the first box.
"Go wash your face Ashie." Caroline closed the top of the box once more. "You have lead on your nose ... again."
"Oh." Ashie vanished as Caroline frowned at James.
"Why wasn't I asked to help?"
"We figured we could manage it ... and we could, may I add."
"Well I hope you have a sleepless night." Caroline flicked her hands dismissively as she looked into the boxes.
"Oh, I will." James gave a small grin which was twisted by a small edge of self-mockery. "I make my bow to the media finally."
"Alone?"
"Do I look that suicidal?" James' brows rose slightly. "Annie-Bug dines with me and no doubt the newspapers will predict my marriage over breakfast tomorrow. Do you know I would have forty pounds by now if I was paid a ha'penny every time my marriage was predicted?"
"Is that counting the fact that multiple newspapers publish each prediction, or collecting them as a single unit?"
"How stingy, of course I'd charge them all a whole ha'penny for the words." James then nodded and took himself off.
"So turns this world." Caroline sighed wearily before smiling as Ashie re-entered the room in a robe which would have shamed a rainbow.
"Tea?" Ashie paused in the door of the kitchen.
"Please." Caroline pulled a file out of a nearby box and flicked through it, listening idly to Ashie's patter of mostly rhetorical talk as he considered some question or other.
"Deadly boring stuff, but I really couldn't persuade myself to strand us both in the office with it so I let her go and brought it home." Ashie drifted out of the kitchen and cast an eye over the boxes.
"I can see that." Caroline frowned as she picked up a pencil. "Have you met Lieutenant Rory Halifax?"
"He's a pill ... possibly even a wart. Distinctly communistic in his leanings which explains at least part of why Neddie eyes me askance on occasion." Ashie vanished for a minute and returned with two mugs of tea.
"Does she still think you an idiot?" Caroline accepted her mug and balanced it carefully before scribbling a brief amendment to the file she was working on.
"She considers me whimsical and wayward ... but I think she has decided that I am not an utter waste of space." Ashie took a file of his own. "What do you think has possessed Jim? He could well hide for the entire war."
"He wants Lila out of you office Ashie."
"Possibly I prefer the devil I know."
"The devil you don't know I am informed is referred to as Charlie and is currently doing roadworks about a block away."
"Wonderful ... oh, yes. Brawny type who looks like he forgot to get a forehead before being born."
"That means nothing at all."
"I never said it did." Ashie sipped his tea before grimacing at the file. "Well, Neddie will be happy when Lila actually goes. Lila has a rare talent for being an irritating nuisance."
"Not half the nuisance she will become if I read Jim's mind aright ... and he can be only one of two minds at the current moment and the other mind leaves Lila in your office."
"When does Jim predict I'll be rid of her?"
"September, October ... maybe as late as November."
"I wish Canaris worked with the speed of the Luftwaffe." Ashie pushed the file aside before irritably wrenching the gloves off his hands and chucking them aside. "Haven't the foggiest why I didn't leave them off earlier ... not like it's nothing you've seen before."
"Right." Caroline finished her note and then glanced up and met Ashie's somewhat rueful expression.
"Okay, so that wasn't English ... I'll get you another cup of tea as penance."
"I would like some cake as well ... and if you've eaten it all you can find more downstairs."
"Good." Ashie turned off before he reached the kitchen and vanished out the front door, leaving Caroline to chuckle softly as she finished with her first file. The files still needed typing, but typing would not take long. Caroline picked up her new file as Ashie returned with two cake boxes and a very unappologetic expression. "Sorry, couldn't decide which you'd prefer so I brought both."
"Am I surprised?" Caroline gave another laugh before bending back over the file. "You know I never realised how rivetingly exciting fish were."
"Oh, sorry. Should have told you." Ashie returned with the mangled remains of one of the cakes and the teapot. "James says he has only a couple hundred trout and therefore he does not count as a fishery industry and is of no interest to us ... he also gets free fish for the war."
"Along with free eggs and everything else." Caroline shook her head. "He's going back up to Pemberley tomorrow isn't he?"
"He has to, they're expecting a couple more evacuees and it's hardly fair to leave them at Nelli's tender mercy."
"Why don't they just turn it into the local school? He has more than enough space and the schoolmaster is already boarding there."
"Principle of the matter, Pemberley is not a school ... besides which the Chapel is much more easily heated and rearranged than that confounded ballroom."
"Do you think Lady Catherine will finally have that fatal coronary?"
"I'd never dream of us being so fortunate." Ashie fed the remains of his cup of tea to a nearby potted plant and poured himself a fresh cup. "Remind me, we need to drink to Jim's success with the media lately, they'll give him a hounding and a half."
June 25th 1940 - London, England
The right choice is not necessarily the easiest choice, and only one person can decide.
"...And James Darcy was sighted at the Savoy Grill, and Meurice's last night for the first time in almost a year. Mr. Darcy was accompanied by his cousins Lieutenant Miles Bingley and Anneliese de Bourgh Darcy, also old friend Squadron-Leader Brian O'Niell ... blah, blah, blah." Annette discarded the paper with a sigh, for the second day the newspaper gave her a deep feeling of impending doom and disaster.
"Oh, not the front page ... guess we should be happy." Annie-Bug picked up the newspaper somewhat sleepily as she stumbled in. "Sorry if I disturbed you when I came in ... but Miles will wake up with a bad headache and he insisted very persistently that he had to see me to the door ... I think he fell down the stairs." Annie-Bug gave a small giggle.
"He wasn't hurt was he?"
"Of course not." Annie-Bug looked vaguely surprised. "Oh, that reminds me, you have the rest of the week off."
"Why?"
"No work left in the office and Ashie's dragging you off to Portsmouth to next week."
"What about you?"
"Oh, Jim is in Derbyshire now and I am still learning how to cook from Aunt Gardiner."
"How can there be no work in the Office?"
"Ashie did it last night I suppose ... and if he didn't it's certainly not going to be found in any useful form."
"That is not a comforting remark!" Annette sighed and stared at her toast.
"Sorry ... but I really doubt you'd believe me if I just stated that Ashie had done it."
"Well excuse my doubt, but I have yet to observe any signs of legible penmanship from him."
"Of course not, those files aren't important and getting them out of the way is essential." Annie-Bug frowned at the butter before decidedly laying her knife aside and taking a bite of her dry bread. "Jim says that we will be rationed before this war is over, I will become accustomed now. Ashie also warns you that around November you will be transferring to another office ... or at least he thinks so. Anyway either the both of you are moving, or everyone else is moving ... he seemed a trifle undecided on that point. Do you want to come and watch me learn to cook? Aunt Gardiner makes it so much fun."
"What happened to those files?"
"Ashie had finished them by midnight with the help of Caroline, along with a couple of others he found after your departure in his office. Which reminds me, how was your dinner?"
"Oh." Annette shrugged. "Rory's tired and it makes him a bit touchy on some subjects. It was all right until the waiter overlooked us for a slightly ... He was some monied type and it put Rory in a bit of a snit. I think he's being worked too hard."
"I shall eat my toast in tactful silence." Annie-Bug's expression was positively saintly.
"You are impossible and I am going for a walk." Annette piled away her breakfast cutlery as she spoke and then frowned. "Who is Mug-Lump?"
"Why do you ask?" Annie-Bug looked not a little wary.
"Mackle mentioned the fact that Mug-Lump gave him a rapturous welcome in his last letter. I was unable to decide what Mug-Lump was."
"Mug-Lump is ... well I guess most would call him a dog. He's a very large, very hairy ... and in some ways very obnoxious animal. Mackle swears he's still a puppy, but I'm really worried if it can get any bigger because it's ... let's just say that it outweighs me already."
"I'll refrain from meeting Mug-Lump then."
"You don't like dogs?"
"I'm not fond of them, no." Annette made the admission somewhat hesitantly.
"You'd better get over it fast because I'll be very surprised if Mug-Lump or one of his many siblings doesn't make your acquaintance soon." Annie-Bug's expression would have her convicted of any crime in under a second.
"I'm definitely going for a walk. I'll see you at lunch."
"I'll be upstairs." Annie-Bug gave a laugh as Annette left the flat before she quickly bundled her own dishes into the kitchen and began washing the dishes quickly.
"Enter the Conquering Hero." Jeroen was shaking his head as the MG ground to a smooth halt. "I see you do not imitate Ashie in the noble art of gardening."
"Is that what he calls it?" James turned the car off and leant back with a sigh. "What does Nelli want her Lord and Master to retrieve?"
"Dog food."
"I still ask why they can't just be fed porridge? Never hurt Dougal or any of his descendants. What makes this lot special?"
"No idea. You flying tonight?"
"Only as a passenger." James turned the ignition key. "Jump in, this thing is getting properly parked."
"Wise idea, and Nelli commends you on your great bravery ... you only had three companions when you took the press on."
"Ashie was busy so I decided to keep it quiet. Were you aware that Rory Halifax is a lousy supply officer?"
"I certainly was becoming aware that supply is not Rory's natural forte."
"If I didn't know you so well I would suspect that of being a nasty and snide remark." James parked the MG in a converted stable and finally eased himself awkwardly out over the door. "Ashie says that Pyro says that you scared the wits out of Mac."
"Translation, did I do something wrong and nearly kill both of us? Yes I did ... Octo still hasn't forgiven me and Hope is pouring over the plans all afternoon trying to find a way to ground me."
"Has she succeeded?"
"I'm not flying." Jeroen shook his head.
"You have to." James turned and nailed Jeroen with a rather nasty look. "What's more, they both know you have to. What did you fluff?"
"Nothing."
"Then fly."
"No."
"Well you have one of two options." James turned and began to walk away. "Either fly by your own choice ... or you fly with me behind you with a compressed air pistol." James stopped and looked back finally. "You're far too deep in Jeroen and you will die if you try to back out."
"That is not a threat from you." Jeroen spoke after a long and pensive moment during which he studied the ground, the sky, the huge dog which now rested at James' feet and finally the clear grey-blue eyes.
"Well Ashie doesn't yet know you're being obstreperous about a silly little accident."
"I'll rephrase it then." Jeroen returned his attention to the dog. "They're watching me as well."
"Correct ... but they also know that you're just a little fish ... or that is what is hoped and believed."
"You do not know?" Jeroen's brows rose slowly and completely disbelievingly.
"That is what is hoped and believed ... you do not wish to know more or you might just as well slit your own throat and be done with it."
"What a charming thought." Jeroen frowned. "Are you here for long?"
"Three more evacuees arrive this evening and though I do not have to permanently reside in their near vicinity, I am required to sign for them. Back to London tomorrow though, I do not want the press nosing around and yapping about my generosity."
"Ah." It was a rather profound noise which Jeroen made and it could have meant any of a number of things ... possibly even a mixture of things. The only thing which was certain was that James understood the noise and with an expression of extreme disgust he turned and walked off.
"So Jim has laid down the law to you." Mac emerged, dog at his heels, from the stable which served as a hanger for the four spitfires and one immense bomber. "I did warn you."
"You did not tell me that I was being watched." Jeroen didn't even bother to turn. "That I'm being watched makes things very different and calming your wife's fears for your continued existence are not quite so high on the priority list. It is difficult to believe that I am roughly four years older than him ... most of the time I feel at least ten years younger and singularly ignorant."
"He can do that to anyone, but the life which teaches those skills I wish on no one ... particularly to the degree whereby the age is totally unconscious. We have some flying to do Gerkin ... Denmark."
"Well I don't have a word of Danish so we had better not land." Jeroen finally turned and followed Mac back into the hangers, there was work to be done before nightfall and sleep would be in short supply for the next twenty-four hours ... provided he did not enter that blessed realm of eternal sleep.
Part 13
July 1940 - Uxbridge, England
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. - Newton's Laws
Lieutenant Rory Halifax, RAF Supply, was one very unhappy man. It was raining, a wet drizzling rain which soaked through everything and Rory had been out in it for nearly the entire day inventorying the contents of a bunch of boxes he wasn't permitted to even touch. It was the mechanics who would open these boxes, Rory was merely reading the labels, a job any halfwit could do without fouling up and deadly boring.
"Halifax! Stop staring at the ____ boxes and finish that inventory."
"Sir." Rory bent over the next box before shooting a glare at the retreating Captain's back. Squadron-Leader Jefferson was the bane of Rory's existence. They had enlisted and trained together. They'd been posted to the same squadron as Junior Supply Officers and risen in perfect step until three months ago, and the result was all the fault of a stupid corporal. Jefferson was now posted to Group Headquarters as Equipment and Rory's superior. "Wrenches!" Rory scribbled the following details before looking up sharply and almost wistfully at a group of fitters who were taking a break near the hangers.
"Squadron-Leader O'Niell gave us permission, sir." One of the fitters caught Rory's eye and spoke with a 'complain if you dare' tone.
"Not my business." Rory turned back to his boxes and glared at yet another box of tape. Why the devil anyone wanted tape in a squadron was completely beyond Rory, and the quantities the Squadron seemed to require was absolutely staggering.
"Halifax!" The next interruption was supplied by Wing-Commander Vivian 'Mitre' Talbot.
"Sir?" Rory's salute was rather miserable and he winced as Mitre's brows rose slightly.
"Lot of supplies?"
"It's some of what we need." Rory glanced down at the book in disgust. "Mostly tape and toilet paper though."
"Are you telling me that those files still haven't been spat out by the system?"
"A.P. 830, volume one parag..."
"I get it. No need to quote the regs." Mitre waved an impatient hand. "Gibbous is waxing again and I must admit that I had hoped for something other than tape and loo-paper."
"There's a box of wrenches and two of spare wheels."
"Wonderful ... pity the engines are seizing up on rough piston rings and the wheels will be wasted."
"It's only been one month sir, and at least we are getting some of the necessary items."
"Well, Gibbous informs me that you specialized in nasty and pointed letters when a civillian. Exercise this skill and get us at least some files by tomorrow."
"How many do you want?"
"At least one, but preferably as many as possible of suitably wide-ranging grades."
"I'll see what I can arrange after I've finished these boxes."
"Good." Mitre turned and hurried back across to the mess where no doubt his tea was suffering a degree of chill which would be hastily removed by the cook.
"Get some files, eh?" Rory shook his head and flexed his cramped fingers before bending back over the boxes once more. There was only one way Rory could possibly get files by tomorrow and Rory wasn't certain whether he was prepared to do it yet.
"Rather an intriguing package which disturbed our breakfast this morning." Mitre came to a halt next to the desk where Rory was working over piles of paper.
"Thank you, but you may kindly take your smart remarks somewhere else sir. Gibbous wanted files and so he got files. No, they were not meant to be delivered at breakfast, but that is what happened and you may deliver to Squadron-Leader O'Niell my appologies for any embarrassment the error caused after my transfer request has been processed."
"You're confident of it getting through."
"With all due respect sir, even if it is not approved I will be leaving this aerodrome. Now please, I would prefer to leave my successor an empty desk which means I have rather a lot of paperwork to get through."
"Have you sent the request off yet?"
"No sir, I still need you to sign it."
"What will you do if I refuse to sign it?"
"I'd rather not say sir, you'd probably put me on charge for having the thought and that would be inconvenient."
"Would you reconsider if I personally requested you to remain?"
"Why would you? The pilots don't like me, the fitters are afraid of me and to date you are the only person who has ever spoken to me about anything except for the fact that supplies are not arriving with sufficiently expeditious manner."
"Coltishall haven't even started getting their loo-paper, let alone wrenches and spare wheels. You're a decent supply officer, who has improved considerably since you've given up arguing with the people who enter this place. Basically I prefer the devil I have to any possible unknown devil in the current circumstances. Will you reconsider?"
"Sir ... I've got a girl in London who I've been awful hard on for the past half year. I still hope to marry her and I really think I should speak to her. I stay here and Gibbous and Elbow are going to yell at me every day because something or other still hasn't turned up. Jefferson is going to keep coming and complaining because I make too many requests of his department. I'll keep taking it out on Annie who has her own job and her own insufferable boss whenever I get a day in London."
"If you're willing to put it off for a couple of months I'll give you next weekend in London." Mitre frowned. "What is all this paper?"
"Well sir, these are the requests which must be filled in triplicate and sent to the right people. Acknowledgement of the requests, also in triplicate. Transport..."
"Right, you reign supreme here and I'll trust you to do it." Mitre grimaced and looked away from the mounds of paper. "Which reminds me, where did those files come from?"
"They're not useless are they?"
"Hell no, beautifully machined and perfect for working on engines. I was talking to Leo earlier and he's positively drooling over them, nothing so nice been seen for years."
"They're mine." Rory glanced up somewhat apprehensively. "They're not RAF issue, but if it is really just rough piston rings which are causing so high a demand on engine parts it seemed easier just to hand mine over ... I'd prefer you didn't mention it sir."
"Where did you get them from? I've not even got such nice files in my personal kit."
"I was given them sir."
"You can fly can't you."
"No." Rory shook his head firmly. "Rotten eyesight sir, I'm a liability to anyone within ten miles."
"Can you take off and land."
"Yes, sir."
"Navigate?"
"Yes, sir."
"Want to be a pilot?"
"No, sir."
"Then why did you learn?"
"I'd rather not say sir."
"So, will you reconsider?"
"You have your couple months sir and I'll take next weekend in London."
"Thank you. Anything I can offer you?"
"Except a few more hands and an extra brain or two ... no sir." Rory gave a wry smile. "I'm hopeful of getting a real delivery of files within the next week."
"I'll see if I can't keep Elbow and Gibbous off your back for a bit."
"If you could restrict them to only two visits a day I'd probably get a lot more work done here." Rory finished one with one set of forms and reached for the next, he'd separate them later.
August 4th 1940 - Derbyshire, England
Ghosts are not necessarily ethereal inhabitants of another plane of existence ... they often appear as a simple and reliable reminder that another is in existence.
"James Darcy left Switzerland last week and is now in Russia. The tentative schedule supplied by Pemberley gives Germany as his next destination followed by Italy as his final destination before coming back to England. The press observes that the Home Office might like to know how he gets into Germany."
"He probably caught a train." Annie-Bug took the final bite of her toast. "Or he might have walked ... though I really believe it must be an aeroplane for he couldn't otherwise deal with anything in Italy and still get back here in time for his birthday."
"Why his birthday in particular?"
"Because he promised me that he would eat the birthday cake I'm going to bake him. Jim never backs out on a promise ... or at least I've never heard of him doing it." Annie-Bug paused. "Well, he did miss my birthday once when he'd promised to come ... but he really couldn't help that. Ashie was a twit, he flew into the Andes or some such place and they had a bit of difficulty getting back to England and Jim was also late for exams that year."
"Yes, but why can your wretched cousin even get into Germany? We happen to be at war with Germany Annie-Bug and he just waltzes in and out of the country as if he owns it."
"Oh." Annie-Bug frowned at the plate which she had just picked up. "You know, I never thought of that."
"We also happen to be at war with Italy, and though we are not at war with Russia, we might as well be since they have an agreement with Hitler. What is he doing in those countries?"
"How should I know? I don't even know why he went to Japan last year ... or at least I think it was last year. Jim doesn't bother saying why he does things. I still don't know why Jim forbade Jeroen to see me. I can assure you though that he always has a good reason ... or he has on all the occasions when he actually supplied them." Annie-Bug headed for the kitchen. "Well except for the time when he used the pea-shooter on my grandmother's new hat. Uncle Darcy gave him a real hiding, but they were both laughing themselves sick about it when we went back to Derbyshire the next day ... but he admitted he had absolutely no reason except that the bird looked hungry."
"What bird looked hungry?" It was not the first time that Annette found herself wading through a vague morass of half-completed stories, and it was very unlikely it would be the last time.
"The one that sits on my grandmother's hat. She usually has feathers, but she has one hat with cherries, this bird hat and a third one with these beautifully drooping roses which the cat had kittens in after Jim forgot to shut his window several years ago. Well, she had that hat but discarded it after Muffin had her kittens. But the bird hat has this little bird perched on one side and I must admit it is a very hungry looking bird."
"Ah." Annette settled for a profound noise, she was in fact quite confused as she picked up her own plate and headed for the kitchen as a polite knock sounded outside.
"Oh, get the door will you." Annie-Bug was up to her elbows in the sink.
"M-hmm." Annette laid her plate and teacup down before going to the door.
"You are not Annie-Bug." The visitor was a tall man, dark-skinned and black-haired, and he spoke after a long moment of silence. "I wish to speak to Annie-Bug." His appearance and dress were both foreign, as was his accent.
"She's busy."
"Please tell her that Daoud is here and she had better become unbusy."
"Daoud?" Annie-Bug came flying out of the kitchen, proving once more that her hearing far outclassed Annette's. "Daoud!" Annie-Bug hugged the man soundly. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in Russia with Jim. Has something happened? Oh, rubbish, of course something has happened. What's happened Daoud? Is Jim dead? Caught? Sick?"
"Peace little one." Daoud freed himself as Annie-Bug dragged him into the living room and gently pushed her into a chair. "Cousin Jim is in reasonable health and promises that nothing short of a disaster will prevent him from arriving for his cake. Eoan caught some fever so I bring Eoan back to England. Will you look after Eoan?"
"But..." Annie-Bug looked slightly dismayed for a moment before shrugging. "I will take Eoan."
"I will get him then." The man Daoud turned and left the room quickly.
"Who is Eoan?" Annette looked skeptically across the room at Annie-Bug.
"Eoan is Mug-Lump's elder brother who usually travels with Jim. I promise you won't have to go near him, Button and he'll never leave my room. I might even be able to..."
"Am I that big an ogre? I don't particularly like dogs Annie-Bug, but I won't move out just because one moved in."
"Thank you!" Annie-Bug flung across the room and hugged Annette.
"I'll finish the dishes while you settle Eoan." Annette returned the hug briefly before heading to the kitchen, but she never made it. The dog Daoud carried over the doorstep was immense, at least half the size of Daoud himself. The thick, black coat hung limp and damp, the body within limp and nearly lifeless.
"Good-grief." Annette froze where she stood, even she could tell that this was one very sick dog.
"Has he seen a vet?" Annie-Bug knelt over the dog as Daoud lowered it onto the sofa.
"No, James says a vet will not help."
"What happened?"
"It was a tick in the Carpathians ... certainly a tick, for James removed one shortly after Eoan became unwell and it was a well-fed tick. James says to just keep him warm, keep him drinking ... which is troublesome, and hope. If he shows no sign of improvement by the end of the week call Ashie."
"How do we keep him drinking?" Annette had edged cautiously across the room and now looked in puzzlement at the dog, for neither her nor Annie-Bug could possibly even hope to raise the dog, and likely they would not even be able to do it together.
"Tilt his head back and pour it in. You wait a moment and then tilt his head to the side. If he has swallowed nothing will happen ... if he hasn't swallowed it will be a mess to clean up."
"You return to Jim today?"
"He awaits my return in St. Petersbourgh." Daoud gently touched the dog's nose before straightening up. "He does not forget that promised cake and he sends to all that he is well and the journey is so far successful. Keep well Annie-Bug, we will return." Daoud nodded briefly and then left the room.
"Oh, the dishes." Annie-Bug abruptly leapt to her feet. "I won't take a minute longer. Button, will you call Ashie and tell him what Daoud said? He's sure to give you the morning off unless there's some dire emergency."
"I don't need the morning off, but I will call him." Annette was already reaching for the telephone as she spoke, somewhat uncomfortably aware of the face that she sat on the arm of a lounge which contained a very large dog. That dog then proceeded to make its presence more known by pushing its nose into the wrist which Annette was balancing on.
"This had better be good." Ashie was sounding far from happy.
"Daoud just dropped Eoan off and I am instructed to pass onto you that Jim is well, in St. Petersbourgh and has so far had a successful journey."
"What's with Eoan?"
"Daoud mentions fever and a tick." Annette sighed as the dog pushed a whisker more insistently and finally trapped her hand under his head.
"Why the sigh?"
"Because I may be late for work, this wretched dog just turned my hand into a pillow."
"Eoan is using your hand as a pillow?"
"Yes. Stop sounding so surprised about it." Annette had tried to retrieve her hand, but received a very unhappy noise from the dog, so she had terminated the effort and leant back.
"Sorry. Come in whenever, as far as I know there's only boring paperwork and Lila at the office yet and if something else turns up I know where to find you."
"Very funny." Annette hung up and stared at the dog which had shown no signs of life before or since it laid siege to her hand. "Annie-Bug!"
"Yes?"
"This dog won't let my hand go."
"Come again?" Annie-Bug peered out of the kitchen with a confused expression.
"This dog seems to have decided that my hand is his pillow."
"Are you sure? Eoan never paid attention to anyone, not even my Uncle Darcy."
"Well I can promise you that I did not push my hand under his head and he did make objecting noises when I tried to retrieve it." Annette scowled irritably at the dog.
"Could you move his head so we could give him a drink?"
"I'll try." Annette finally responded after a long and reluctant pause.
"I'll get some water then and a towel." Annie-Bug vanished in a flurry, shortly to return with the items she had mentioned.
It took five minutes for them to decide that Eoan had imbibed even half a glass of water, by which time both of them, the towel and certain patches of the lounge and floor looked very damp. Annette was absolutely positive that Eoan was now laughing at them and her hand was still very much a prisoner to the piteous whines and a nice pair of canine teeth which staggered into view on one occasion.
"Oh, dear!" It was Ashie's voice which finally halted their efforts to supply fluid to Eoan. "I see Eoan shares even more with his great-grandsire than previously believed."
"Thank you for such a deep and meaningful comment." Annette looked up in exasperation. "Do you know of a better way to keep this animal alive?"
"Well the Major always used ... oh, a pipe-like thing used on cows to give them nasty drinks ... usually occurs in spring I believe when they've pigged-out like a horse on green-grass."
"You mean these things habitually get sick with fevers?" Annette looked even more exasperated.
"I think it has more to do with the fact that they keep going places where dogs really shouldn't be taken." Ashie approached and proffered a gloved hand to the dry nose. "Never quite able to tell whether they like me or not." Ashie gave a small nod as the big red tongue flipped briefly into view. "Well I'm approved today, but I doubt he'll let me free your hand so you'll just have to wait for him to surrender it ... and then I suggest you keep your hands away from his vicinity or he will capture it again." Ashie handed Annette a folder as he gently stroked the furry head. "Eh, yer a real mess Eoan-boy. What did t'mester mean by doin' it?" Ashie shook his head at the soft whine which came in response. "Yer in worse shape then Ifor ever was, though I've no doubt travelling back from Russia was half the problem. Yer a real chuckle-head to have gone."
"Jim said to give him a week before we call you." Annie-Bug had moved to the foot of the couch.
"Aye." Ashie straightened up. "Eoan's got more fight left in him than Ifor had even at the start of it all ... but it'll be a rare miracle to beat this bug." Ashie stared at the dog for a long minute before called to attention by a choke from Annette. "Problem?"
"This file was never in the office."
"No, it arrived just as you ended the call earlier and so I came bucketing across. Where is it meant to go?"
"St. Petersbourgh." Annette responded after a long moment. "Could Daoud be stopped and used as a messenger?"
"No." Ashie and Annie-Bug responded in firm unison, but it was Ashie who continued. "I would not endanger Daoud by having him bear it, nor compromise Jim by that endangerment. I guess I'm off to Pemberley today." Ashie accepted the file back from Annette. "Bob has promised to bring you anything which hits my in-box and I won't return without a letter from your thoroughly pestilential brother."
"I might at this point make a nasty remark about bringing someone to free my hand ... but such is life, you can't so I will possess my soul of patience and a handy book and learn to like dogs ... or at least this dog as it seems reluctant to release me." Annette had attempted twice since Ashie's arrival to free her hand, but the results were the same, sad little whines and the occasional canine tooth that staggered into view.