James? - Section XVIII

    By John

    Previous Section, Section XVIII, Next Section

    Part 58

    Posted on Sunday, 11 June 2006

    September 3rd 1943 - Weybridge, England

    It is the small things in life that matter.

    Hope had reduced two pencils to small wooden splinters and was now working on her third, which had perhaps a minute more before it ceased to be a pencil. The page was a mess of scrawled calculations and a nearby plan had half a dozen notes scribbled in red pencil indicating points along the wing.

    "Hope." The soft interruption drew a frown to Hope's forehead and she turned to apply it to Mac who was standing in the doorway.

    "What?"

    "It's two in the morning." Mac moved across to perch on the edge of the desk and for a minute or two he studied the papers on the desk. "It's the wing isn't it."

    "It shouldn't behave like that." Hope savaged her pencil anew. "There's got to be a reason for it, but even Barnes says the design work is sound."

    "Well, it was flying pretty quickly when the trouble made its presence known."

    "We can't put a speed limit on a fighter, those idiots will never abide by it."

    "After all, when running from the opposition you're significantly more worried about getting away than some theoretical speed limit."

    "It's not a theoretical speed limit." Hope abruptly scowled at the plan of the wing. "That plane would have lost its wing if he hadn't noticed the ripple, throttled back and come in for an immediate landing. Go have a look at the wing, it's classic fatigue and failing at four points."

    "What about the other wing? Could it simply have been an assembly error in that particular wing?"

    "No." Hope pulled another plan out from a nearby draw. "We pulled the whole craft to pieces in hopes of proving just that and discovered that the other wing was only slight less fatigued."

    "In other words when applying a jet engine, even of rotten design and power, you can't maintain the design standards of propeller aircraft."

    "It's got nothing to do with the engine type." Hope spat out the remains of her pencil and sighed tiredly. "It's that bloody sound barrier. The design is breaking down because we don't understand what's happening at these super high speeds."

    "Those chaps working for Rolls Royce can't help?"

    "We've already asked if they've any thoughts on the subject and the response was a bunch of swearing and a reluctant admission that they'd been about to call us to ask if we knew anything helpful."

    "Why?"

    "They're engine people, not airframe people."

    "Point." Mac stared at the plans and resolutely squashed the wish to get his hands on one. The damage, not quite so bad on one side as it was on the other, was perfectly symmetrical about the central axis of the aircraft. "What's the empennage condition?"

    "Not as bad." Hope pulled out yet another plan with red scribbles on it. "I would never have let them put me here if I'd known this mess would get dumped in my lap."

    "Then you shouldn't have grumbled about boredom." Mac frowned at the plan for the tail, again the damage was symmetrical. "What's the percentage of damage in the tail factored against the wings?"

    "About fifty percent lower." Hope dug around for a couple pages of calculations. "It's not too unlike an inverted calculation for the old problem they had of stopping the early aeroplanes. Some bright spark used a boat anchor and kept tearing tails off. I remember my father trying to design a tail strong enough to take the forces and not prevent the aeroplane from ever taking off to begin with."

    "He figured something out in the end didn't he?"

    "Yes, but it concerned how the anchor was used rather than re-enforcing the tail." Hope sighed again. "Unfortunately, to my knowledge we're unable to redesign the behaviour of the atmosphere when we travel through it at high velocities ... leaves us only the aeroplane to work on and we simply don't have enough information at the present moment."

    "Re-enforce the leading edge?"

    "We re-enforce it that much and we'll never reach the speeds where the re-enforcement in required."

    "Which leaves the materials and aerodynamic design as the only items where you can rearranged things ... and to think I once flew a Sopwith Pup and felt all powerful because in a dive I could crank it up to sixty."

    "I thought you only ever flew two man fighters and bombers."

    "Officially I did, but unofficially everyone was always pinching any machine that came past and wasn't sufficiently well guarded. But I flew the Pup with Ashie's permission and blessing." Mac smiled quietly to himself. "We were mad in those days ... quite mad."

    "You don't think you're mad any more?" Hope raised her eyebrows.

    "Oh no." Mac smiled tiredly and dropped into a nearby chair. "If I was still mad I'd have wanted to fly that test."

    "To be quite honest I wish you had been flying it ... then at least we'd have some more information to work with." Hope rubbed her nose and then frowned. "You didn't want to fly the test?"

    "Not really." Mac put his hands behind his head. "I guess I'm finally starting to get old or something, I honestly wasn't even interested until I knew the wing had attempted to part company with the main body. That makes it interesting."

    "I'll say it does." Hope grimaced and then looked back at the pages. "Why would there be a difference?"

    "Streamlining?"

    "Sorry?"

    "You could stick a Spitfire engine in a Pup, but the Pup would either be torn to pieces or go little faster than it did with its original engine. Assuming of course it could take off at all, which I doubt. Ashie was flying a Camel with a Pup engine for a few weeks, the Camel went slightly faster than the Pup would have because its air design was slightly better. There's no point powering up the engine if your air design isn't good enough to maximise the qualities of the engine. Something needs to break the air up ... bit like diving people. If I go diving I make a big splash and barely get into the water. That chappy we saw a few years ago got right down to the bottom and he made almost no splash at all. If I try to dive harder I simply make a bigger splash and get bruised. No point doing it. You say air is a fluid, so you're just crashing this rotten diver into it with a more powerful engine and he's hurting ... teach him some technique."

    "Thanks a packet." Hope began chewing on a new pencil.

    "After all with a bigger engine and higher speeds you know perfectly well you need less air stability to fly ... the camel was a classic case of that because it couldn't glide as well as a pup."

    "Go away, I'm thinking."

    "I'm trying to annoy you."

    "You've already succeeded." Hope was beginning to scribble on a new sheet of paper.

    "Consider me gone, and do tell me later if I was of any use."

    "I can tell you that already, you were useful." Hope was fairly savaging the pencil as she went digging into a nearby draw. "Barnes Wallis left some drawings in here the other day which were deemed too unstable for use."

    "Have fun and I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you surface."

    "Thanks." Hope had pulled half a dozen pages from one of the draws and was clearly thinking much more about them than about what Mac had just said. There was in fact no dish on the planet which could wait as this supposed breakfast would be called on to wait for. Mac was in fact going home to the new litter which was just old enough to begin training. When he saw Hope crossing the aerodrome towards the gate he would simply apply heat under the oats which were soaking for porridge. With a bit of luck they would not have been reduced to clag and they would be done by the time she arrived. Who knew though, they were both used to the disasters and neither of them minded.

    September 10th 1943 - Deraux, England

    Revenge is sweet!

    Brian O'Niell paced as far as the wall allowed, then turned and paced back the other direction until he ran into the other wall. He had been pacing like this for what seemed an eternity and if something didn't change soon he was going to go mad. He'd probably spend the rest of his life pacing rooms and muttering under his breath. He'd have tried reading, except he couldn't see to read. He'd have tried listening to the radio, except that he still wasn't allowed to. They'd only just given him permission to remove the bandages during the early morning and late evening. He'd tried eating, but been miserably sick. He'd tried to think of someone who might be available to keep him company and had been unable to think of anyone, with the exception of Ronan who was patiently pacing with him. He'd been reduced to pacing and it felt like he was going to spend the rest of his life pacing.

    "Brian." It was audible and Brian promptly spun and pounced on his mother who stood in the doorway.

    "How is she?" Brian wished his vision was clear enough to read his mother's face, but she didn't feel unhappy.

    "Not interested in the baby?" Nelli's voice was amused, though there was an odd note in it.

    "Not even slightly until I know how Luce is." Brian pulled his mother into the room in an attempt to actually see her face.

    "Relax, she's fine." Nelli paused for a moment. "I told you there was nothing to worry about and it would be a short labour and I was quite right. Don't worry Brian, she'll be back on her feet faster than you know ... though possibly a little more preoccupied with other matters than you in future."

    "Irrelevant." Brian flicked it aside. "Now, about this baby?"

    "It's a boy and very healthy. Lucille wants to see you in about ten minutes."

    "Where is she in this pile?"

    "I'll come and fetch you when the ten minutes are up. We don't need you barging in early." Nelli gave Brian a brief hug and retreated to the doorway. "Go find a sandwich or somesuch. No point fainting from sheer hunger and don't you dare use that dog to come early."

    "Umm." Brian dropped into the armchair and buried his face in his hands.

    "Brian?" It was ten minutes later when Nelli came into the room once more.

    "Umm?" Brian lifted his head.

    "Lucille says you can come up now ... she also says revenge."

    "Revenge?" Brian blinked in utter confusion.

    "I'm sure she'll enjoy explaining." Nelli lead the way back to Lucille's room and just as promptly departed again.

    "Revenge?" Brian found the edge of the bed and sat down.

    "Just the slight matter of pacing rooms and feeling both helpless and thoroughly annoyed."

    "When did you pace around feeling helpless?"

    "Oh, just about every time I knew you were flying ... in particular when you went bombing in Germany."

    "I'd always wondered why I made it safely back so often." Brian found a familiar hand. "Nelli says it's a boy."

    "Mm-hmm. A nice healthy specimen with your nose."

    "Is my nose important?"

    "Probably not ... just telling you what I've been told about it."

    "You haven't seen it?"

    "Of course I've seen it ... but I will confess it looked more like a scrunchled red handkerchief than a human-being."

    "I'll take your words for it." Brian suddenly felt very tired indeed and by the sounds Lucille was almost asleep herself. "We've landed in Italy."

    "Oh?" Lucille seemed to wake up a trifle.

    "Landings at the toe a week ago. Landings at Salerno yesterday." Brian paused. "What makes it so terribly funny is that the Italians have already surrendered ... we fight in Italy because the Nazis have pinched their defensive positions and invaded their land. One hopes the locals will be helpful ... but I fear they will not be allowed to."

    "Still more war." Lucille blinked. "Do you think Mr. Darcy is still alive?"

    "I don't know." Brian eased his breath with a sigh. "I hope so."

    "So do I." Lucille blinked again. "Owen O'Niell is a decidedly odd sounding name."

    "You chose it, you can change it." Brian leant against the bedpost with a slight frown, his ears were ringing again.

    "No ... go to sleep Brian." Lucille very definitely went to sleep at that point, and though Brian had fully intended to remove himself before he fell asleep, he was sprawled across the foot of Lucille's bed when he woke up the next morning. So much for good intentions.

    September 13th 1943 - Annecy Barracks, France

    In the beginning there was ... - Skenvoy ('Shinkei' by Gillian Rubenstein)

    Lieutenant Alistair Bennet, 1st SAS, had grown tired of counting bricks in Africa, he'd tired of counting bricks in Italy and now he was more than fed up to the back teeth with counting them in France. Why he was even in France was far beyond his understanding ... or maybe not, there were times when he was all too willing to curse his aunt for having married into the Darcy Family. The Germans were certainly not going to allow a connection to the Darcys placidly return to fight for England simply because the Italians had been so spineless as to surrender. The Germans had swooped swiftly and nailed not only Alistair, but several other vaguely prominent figures among the prisoners. Some of them had already been shipped away from these filthy barracks and Alistair had yet to decide whether he was relieved or mad at being so overlooked.

    "They want you in the interrogation room." The orderly had kicked the door open and now lounged rather sullenly against it. Beyond, fairly hidden in the shadows Alistair perceived an armed guard.

    "Right." Alistair rose and straightened his uniform as best he could without destroying it, and then stepped from the cell and fell into position among the guard with the ease of long practice. To an observer it must have looked like an exhaustively practiced drill ... which in a way it was since it had been at least weekly in occurrence ever since he'd been dragged into German hands. Why the Nazis thought he could help with anything was completely beyond Alistair's comprehension, he was a lieutenant who had never taken any part in 'family' secrets.

    "Dismissed." The Interrogation Room held two people, three chairs and a small table. The table was not normal, but then neither were the guard completely dismissed after delivering a prisoner. "Sit." The woman crossed swiftly to the door, slammed it and then pushed the two bolts home. "They're the most comfortable I could get, Al."

    "Thank you, Hilde." Alistair settled in one of the chairs with a sigh. Gräfn Hilde von Nickel had first entered the sphere of his existence when he'd been a prisoner in Italy, and somehow she'd never left again. Alistair gave Hilde a brief smile and then returned his gaze to the unknown figure who was leaning against the window frame with his hands buried deeply in the trouser pockets of his uniform ... a move which creased his jacket rather badly, but the man clearly wasn't interested in that. There was something distinctly familiar about the man but for the life of him Alistair could not produce the similarity which would give an identity.

    "Your name and rank?" Hilde had settled at the table and produced the standard form which she produced and filled out every time they met.

    "Lieutenant Alistair Bennet." Alistair responded automatically.

    "Gunner Tom Biddey, 56th Heavy Artillery." The correction came softly from the window and Alistair was startled to note that Hilde wrote the correction, not his name. Alistair turned to stare anew at the shadowy silhouette in the window.

    "That is?"

    "Hauptmann Friedrich Stübel." Hilde had continued writing as she spoke and Alistair was startled to discover that in very short order he became Gunner Tom Biddey, 56th Heavy Artillery, R.A., with no particular relatives and who'd spent most of the war running around England, before being sent to Africa and being caught early on in Italy.

    "Oh." Alistair gave a small shrug. "I hope this little lot won't get me shot at dawn."

    "No." The man by the window finally pushed off it and came into the room. "Provided, that is, that Stübel actually obliges by not checking the records until tomorrow morning."

    "He said he was going shooting." Hilde looked up with a frown.

    "A jeep departed a moment ago and it certainly looked like Stübel in the front seat." James shrugged and then grinned for Alistair was looking flabbergasted.

    "You're dead."

    "I feel it rather often, but unfortunately no." James settled on the remaining chair and stared out the window at the distant mountains. "I'm also not here ... or at least no more here than a file of information might be."

    "Ah." Alistair scratched his neck. "What is this in aid of?"

    "Getting you transferred to a batch of prisoners who travel south tonight." James gave a jaw smashing yawn. "Not my idea, not my plan and certainly achieved by no activity on my part since Hilde could have written anything without the slightest problem."

    "Ahh." Hilde abruptly scribbled out a new sheet and handed it to James. There was a choke of laughter and James' expression was rather strained as he handed to sheet to Alistair.

    "Mm." Alistair managed to maintain a steady expression, but only because James' choke had warned him in advance that whatever the sheet contained was unique. "That his?"

    "Could well be." Hilde very carefully tore the sheet into innumerable tiny little shreds and scattered them across the floor before applying her foot to them. "Though he lacks slightly in the horizontal dimensions."

    "I'll say." Alistair cast a speculative eye over his cousin but was forced to concede that there was not even enough James currently to produce half of one Heinrich Himmler.

    "I'm afraid this shadow on the wall is now going to prettify you for the purposes of satisfying the guard." Hilde rose. "For the guards you will remain Alistair Bennet, but be prepared to move quickly tomorrow morning."

    "Mm." Alistair barely registered Hilde's departure concentrating as he was on the purposeful way in which James was rolling up his sleeves.

    "So, where did you meet her?" James began his work with a handful of dirt from the floor.

    "Italy." Alistair was unable to restrain a flinch as James hit an old bruise.

    "Sorry." James was frowning at his work. "Surprised you trusted her."

    "I didn't ... until she accidentally saved me from the firing squad. Then she gave me some cigars and has undoubtedly risked her own life to keep me in good nick."

    "Mm." James narrowed his eyes. "She's telling them that it's a carefully prepared trick to gain your confidence."

    "I've nothing to confide."

    "They don't know that so I'd call it irrelevant." James went to work again. "I'm still surprised for you've got to be one of the most suspicious dogs there are."

    "Juliette was the one who kept her under observation before." Alistair blinked the tears out of his eyes, James had found a decidedly tender nerve. "I have had a couple of mild poundings."

    "I was doing my best to be careful." James narrowed his eyes again. "Making you look like you received a fair pounding without actually pounding you is no trick."

    "Why not simply pound me?" Alistair knew from painful experience that James was not holding back because he didn't know how to pound.

    "Because a pounding won't wash off with a damp rag and that's what needs to happen tomorrow." James gave a small nod of satisfaction. "Of course Juliette had her under constant observation, she happens to enjoy blackmailing me."

    "Juliette or Hilde?"

    "Hilde." James gave a snort. "Juliette wouldn't even consider blackmailing anyone. If the world turned upside down you might still depend on Juliette to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth ... unless of course she refused to open her mouth at all."

    "Why does Hilde enjoy blackmailing you?"

    "Because of my father I presume ... but equally she might just happen to get a kick out of blackmailing."

    "My head is not coping with this." Alistair gave a sigh. "I'll ask Juliette about it later ... or maybe I'll just save it until you surface again. I presume I'm to go home."

    "Mm." James gave a curt nod.

    "Yourself?"

    "Who knows, I've lasted this long without dying so I'll probably scrape through a few more years."

    "Why don't you hook into this ride I'm apparently taking?"

    "Al ... I'm dispensable." James moved back to the window and gave a slightly bitter sounding laugh. "It has to be one of the worst jokes ever played on a war."

    "It does?" Alistair was feeling slightly sick in his stomach.

    "The person all the governments want to find is in fact the most unimportant and irrelevant person on the planet. I don't even need to be here ... except Hilde seemed to think it would present a more plausible situation should an enquiry occur over this situation in the future."

    "Hilde's not in trouble is she?"

    "Unlikely." James gave a small shrug. "I think it was more she felt it would reassure our relatives for there to be a confirmed sighting of me."

    "But still, why not come?"

    "If I vanish Hilde will die more surely than if I were to hold a gun to her head and pull the trigger." James turned away from the window. "They know I'm here, not knowing me as me, I have a legal identity at the current moment and irrelevant and dispensable though I am, I'm not about to endanger the indispensable by being stupid ... and yes, Hilde is indispensable."

    "So what now?" The silence had been rather marked and decidedly uncomfortable, Alistair broke it for no other reason than an interrogation room should never be silent.

    "No comment ... but my greetings to all and I will get back as soon as I can." James pushed the door open and waved Hilde to summon the guard. Alistair slumped himself against the wall and hoped his posture befitted his appearance. It can't have been too bad since the guard took one look and then simply carried him back to his cell. Alistair wished he had a mirror by which to inspect his person. Alistair also wished he had never asked why James was not leaving Europe as well. It was as though he was cursed with never learning, he always seemed to put his foot in it with James and this time he'd found a reeking, stinking pool of bitterness and resentment. The only question was bitterness about what and resentment against whom. Alistair knew one thing, and that was that life as James Darcy lived it was never as simple as it might appear.

    Part 59

    Posted on Wednesday, 21 June 2006

    October 1943 - Salerno, Italy

    Dear Mother,
    I am in Italy.

    Your loving son,

    Barmy Fred - Spike Milligan

    "ANNIE!" Rory went crashing into the rooms they were renting and was quite ready to start singing if need be. The news was delightful. The news was divine. The news was little less than heaven served on a plate with an elegant garnish.

    "What is it?" Annette emerged from the back room with a slightly perplexed expression.

    "The Foggia Airfields." Rory grabbed Annette and began waltzing her wildly around the hall. "We've captured the Foggia Airfields."

    "The..." Annette's shoulders began to shake as she buried her face in Rory's shoulder, utterly convulsed with silent laughter.

    "It's good news, but it is not that funny." Rory pulled Annette's face out of his shoulder after one final, wild whirl, and kissed her. "Do sort yourself out old thing and tell me what's so terribly, hysterically funny."

    "The Foggia Airfields." Annette stuttered slightly as laughter threatened to take her once more. "I'm sorry Rory, it's just ... " The laughter bubbled up for one brief little hysterical moment and then dissolved into tears.

    "Annie!" Rory had nearly no idea what to say, or do. What could he do except hold her and wait for the return of coherency? She hadn't been like this at breakfast and it wasn't even lunch time yet. They'd have known about the airfields at breakfast except that somehow they'd not got a newspaper, or anything. What had happened during the morning?

    "Sorry." Annette abruptly dried her eyes and began to pull away. "I think the war must be getting to me."

    "No, Annie." Rory felt an ugly fear bloom and twist within him, his arms remained firm in their grip. Annette was staying right where she was, in his arms and safe until he understood. For once in a long time he was putting his foot down. "The war won't take you like that ... what ... what's happened?"

    "How do you know it won't?" Annette looked up gravely, silently and Rory saw something within which fed the fear.

    "The war might take Lucille in tears and hysteria, but not you." Rory pulled Annette in more tightly as he spoke, as if it would reduce the distance he abruptly felt gaping between them. "Please Annie, something ... please."

    "You're squeezing me." The words were quiet, grave and empty. Annette had herself back under control ... too much control. This was how the war might take Annette, or there was the other extreme, but regardless of anything else there was something seriously wrong.

    "Sorry if it hurts, but I'm scared." Rory managed to loosen his grip slightly, but he knew it wasn't enough for comfort. "Please Annie." A soft appeal followed by a very long silence.

    "Honestly Rory, it's nothing, just a bit of homesickness."

    "Why the devil don't you return to England then?"

    "No need to swear." Annette gently tugged herself free and moved back into the backroom, which housed their kitchen and laundry. Rory realised rather abruptly that he was staring with his mouth open. Rory closed his mouth with a snap and abruptly walked across to the bookshelf. The books were all Italian, but there was something in the action of reading through the titles and handling the soft leathers and hard fibres which ... Rory froze as his mind jerked back to a moderately old and well forgotten memory. Another place, another man who had similarly stared at book titles. Rory jerked around and abruptly stalked into the backroom.

    "Does it have anything to do with James Darcy?"

    "You want it to have something to do with Jim." Annette jerked her response out as she scrubbed viciously at a badly marked shirt. "No, Mr. Wonderful Psychologist, it does not have anything to do with Jim."

    "Then what's wrong?"

    "I told you..."

    "Don't even attempt to brush me off with that twaddle about homesickness. Not but what you may be perfectly right in claiming homesickness, but it was not homesickness that gave you hysterics before lunch." Rory abruptly ran his fingers through his hair and then frowned. "Who died?"

    "Wha ... " Annette's mouth dropped open in shock.

    "I'm serious, who died?"

    "I..." Annette turned viciously back to her shirt. "No one."

    "Mm, you said the same thing when Badger died." Rory stood still for a moment and then gave a tiny shrug. "Should have known it was stupid to even think it possible." He mumbled it to himself as he left the room and it was rather a grim realisation to have. He'd known her too long, he knew when she was lying. Unfortunately, though she might marry him in an attempt to avoid trouble, that did not mean she was going to trust him. Whoever had said half a loaf was better than no bread had maggots in their head, half a loaf was simply a tormenting reminder of what might have been.

    Rory hesitated at the front door for a moment and then turned right. He'd been so happy when he'd come in earlier. So happy he'd taken it for granted that the world in general was happy. The problem was that he refused to keep all his own enjoyments in check until he had verified that those around him wanted to be happy. It was not like anyone asked his permission to be happy, so why should he have to ask for permission. But equally it wasn't fair to get angry just because someone else was unhappy and didn't share your enjoyment of something. He'd tried to find out what was wrong and had the door closed very firmly in his face. Perhaps he'd find a way in later ... back door or possibly a window.

    "Hullo." Rory turned to blink at Eoan who had just poked his cold nose into Rory's hand. "Please don't tell me I'm wanted back at the house." Eoan didn't respond, just withdrew his nose and settled into a comfortable amble just touching Rory's leg. "Why me?" Again the response was silence and Rory extended his stride slightly before he returned to his own thoughts. They were leaving tomorrow, and Rory had wanted to have some fun, not a fight ... and now he only had until tomorrow to try and stop the fight. There simply wasn't enough time.

    "Thanks for lending me Eoan." Rory had let himself quietly in the back door of the tiny cottage. There was a smell of cooking about the house, but Rory was not inclined to delude himself and rather expected that old bread was probably the best he could get.

    "You're back!" It was clear relief which flared in Annette's eyes.

    "Sorry if I worried you ... just wanted to do some thinking." Rory glanced down for a moment and then moved to the cupboard. "Eoan fed?"

    "You've had him all afternoon."

    "True." Rory fished around in the cupboard for some odds and ends to feed Eoan. "Would be a bit tricky to feed him if he wasn't around."

    "Just a bit ... dinner in five."

    "Thanks for the warning." Rory put down Eoan's bowl and glanced at his hands. "I'd better go wash."

    "Is Tom coming in?"

    "Nope." Rory paused in the doorway to look back. "I think he's got a lead on some hidden masters he wants to see."

    "Fun." Annette gave a brief nod and turned to stir something on the stove. Rory hesitated for a moment and then quietly went out to the pump. The meal passed quickly and silently, Rory was still eating when Annette left her seat and got back to her manuscript. Rory finished eating, glanced briefly over Annette's shoulder to find the manuscript in what looked like Italian, and gave a shrug before getting his own work out.

    It was after midnight when Rory glanced at the clock, he carefully packed his pens away and retied the files. Overall, if one considered results, the evening had been very unproductive. If one considered how much more of the masses of pointless reading he'd got out of the way it had been a very successful evening.

    "What are you working on?" Annette looked up curiously from her typewriter as Rory pushed himself to his feet.

    "I..." Rory hesitated and then sighed. "Peter made an odd comment and I thought I'd see whether I could do something about it. Things are a mess here already and it's only going to get messier. There are a lot of lost people out there ... some are so lost even they don't remember who they are. Prisoners have been transferred without paperwork. Prisoners have escaped without it being recorded. I think quite a few have been killed without the fact being recorded and there were plenty who are prisoners who have simply never been registered to begin with. I had a list of prisoners the Italians thought they had. I have a list which is thought to be what the Germans think they have. There's also the list of what we know we have. Most of it is dead boring checking names on all three lists, but I've run across a few unaccountable entries and it helps to pass the time when I'm not at Mallern's beck and call."

    "Do you want any help?"

    "Of course, but you seem to be busy."

    "Not that busy." Annette sighed wearily. "I really hate appologising, but sorry about earlier ... I just didn't want to talk about it."

    "So I gathered ... and you still don't, so I was exercising what little tact I have and avoiding the matter. We're leaving again tomorrow and I've a feeling we won't be back for a while." Rory gave a weird, lopsided shrug. "I'm sorry you can't come."

    "It's probably good I don't." Annette grimaced. "I thought I was coming down with the flu ... but I seem to have got over it."

    "You call if you get sick in future. Mallern's quite capable at fending for himself." Rory drew his brows together, half opened his mouth and then closed it quite firmly. "Got to be up at five tomo ... today, I'm turning in."

    "Sleep well." Annette turned back to her typewriter as Rory disappeared into the shadowy darkness which was the bedroom.

    It was over two hours after Rory had vanished into the shadows that he silently re-emerged. His clothes were unchanged, except that he'd removed his boots, and his eyes were not even slightly sleepy.

    "I was wondering how long you'd last out against your curiousity." Annette continued to type, not even bothering to look up.

    "It's not actually my curiousity which brings me out." Rory sat carefully on the edge of the table.

    "I'm fine and you need your sleep."

    "I've gone without sleep before and I'll go without it again." Rory flipped through the pages of completed typing. "I caught you by surprise this morning didn't I?"

    "I don't want to talk about it."

    "You're not." Rory leant back against the wall and yawned. "I'm the one who's talking."

    "Well, what are you talking about?"

    "Something which stupidly never occured to me before." Rory sighed softly and abruptly slid back off the table. "You needn't worry, Annie, I'm not going to pry or ask any awkward questions ... I realise it is something I'll never understand, but I do wish you'd remember that I also lost something." Rory paused at the edge of the shadows. "In fact I lost out twice because it seems I also lost your trust ... again."

    "It's not that." Annette's head was almost touching the keyboard. "You've got more than enough to do and worry about ... I didn't want to add to your worries."

    "I may grieve a loss, but I won't worry about it. There is only one worry in my life Annie, and that is a worry which no one can do a thing about except my own sweet little self. I ... we ... you do so much for us, please let us do something in return ... if only to solace our pride. I don't doubt you can manage by your own ... but you don't have to ... and it makes me feel lousy that I ever brought you when I know that I'm giving nothing for what I get. I can't shake the thought that you'd be happier if I'd left you in Africa ... or forced them to make another plan."

    "Don't you ever even think that." Annette was out of her chair in a flash. "I need to feel useful and I am useful here. They need me at the hospitals. They need me at the canteens. You and Mallern can get past by yourselves, but you know you need me to make things comfortable. I..."

    "Annie." Rory caught her hands and held them tight, they were trembling. "We couldn't have survived in Sicily without you. It is the fact that you are so vital to our sanity which makes us care like we do. Please, at least let me do what I can ... then I can feel a bit useful too."

    "Oh Rory, you're horrible." It was a strangled mixture of laughter and tears as Annette buried her face in his shoulder. "Always throw my words back at me. Always so horribly humble and honest just when I want you at your insufferable and egotistical worst ... and now I can't stop crying."

    "Why try? It's warm enough that my shirt gets dry between each drop."

    "Liar." Annette gave a sniff and then a sigh, the tears fell unabated, but they lacked the irrationality of before. "It just seems so unfair. So unreasonable ... and don't you dare get all trite on me."

    "Wouldn't dream of it." Rory studied the dark head which was buried in his shoulder. "Why did you marry me? It wasn't to escape dusty offices and it wasn't because it was done behind our backs ... do you know why?"

    "You treat me like a normal human being." Annette carefully dried her eyes. "I think I'm done crying for now."

    "How else would I treat you?"

    "Like some bizarre artifact or curiousity." Annette sighed. "Dear heavens, I worked for Ashie and maintained my sanity for a year and a bit. I've been known to hold my own in an argument with James Darcy. I apparently ... It's stupid. People were behaving like I was someone special, in need of careful handling and studied treatment. I'm nothing special ... well, a bit weird because I don't like back fence gossip and being patronised. I'm not special."

    "Oh yes you are." Rory started to chuckle. "You're married to me ... that makes you special."

    "That is the tritest, most pig-headed comment anyone could possibly have..." Annette made a small squeak of frustrated irritation and Rory let his laughter go completely. It rang through the room and chased back the shadows.

    "You need to go to bed." Annette was aware that her voice sounded obnoxious, even if she didn't mean it to.

    "Fine." Rory headed for the bedroom, then grinned and came back to take Annette by the arm. "I'm due for sleep, and you can either rest with me or do your wifely duty by giving me company while I rest."

    "Pig." Annette shook her head and dropped onto the edge of the bed. She did need to rest, the doctors had told her to rest, but somehow she simply hadn't been able to do it.

    "Yep." Rory kicked his boots off and dropped onto the bed with a groan. "I'd forgotten how nice a bed felt."

    "Not a bad one is it." Annette settled on the bed herself and tucked under Rory's arm. "Any other orders before rest?"

    "Just one." Rory rolled over abruptly so he could catch Annette's eyes. "Never try to shut me out like that again."

    "I didn't want ... afraid you'd be disappointed ... hurt you." Annette shifted around and hid her face.

    "Oh, no you don't." Rory swiftly rolled Annette over and used a hand to keep her from hiding her face again. "We're in this together ... a team ... friends. I'll undoubtedly slack at times and require reminding, so I'm reminding you now. We're in this together Annie, and something like that ... " Rory stopped and closed his eyes.

    "Rory ... we can't go through life being afraid of what might have been." Annette spoke carefully. "It happened and I didn't die, but in all honesty I must confess that it hurts and I'm not altogether certain that I don't regret that it didn't kill me."

    "Then I'm sure as ... smoke going to make sure you don't regret surviving." Rory opened his eyes abruptly, released Annette and rolled back over onto his back. "A definite challenge which I have accepted. Annie will acquire confidence that living was the best option." Rory yawned and pulled Annette back under his arm. "Wonderful, I'm starting this campaign by falling asleep." Annette couldn't help but laugh for Rory was asleep almost before he finished speaking. However his arm remained firm even in sleep, and after a bit of wriggling Annette managed to get comfortable and drifted off herself. Somehow the knowledge that Rory was fighting to ensure she didn't regret surviving eased the pain and the loss a tiny bit. Inside Annette knew that this was going to be their first real test and she hoped they were going to pass it.

    Part 60

    October 31st 1943 - Aberdeen, Scotland

    War makes for many strange allies

    It was freezing cold at the station and Annie-Bug hugged first herself and then her bag in an attempt to keep from freezing to death. The rain was misty and not quite wet enough to warrant a raincoat, but quite damp enough to make life miserable. Annie-Bug had been waiting for fifteen minutes already and the train had been over an hour late on arrival anyway. Juliette was not usually so tardy and Annie-Bug was beginning to worry.

    "Anneliese!" The sharp call had Annie-Bug spinning and she dove across the road to jump into the back of the waiting car.

    "What's the hold-up?"

    "Mechanical trouble." Juliette wove skillfully through the mix of pedal, foot and motor traffic. "No trouble getting away?"

    "Not too much." Annie-Bug finally pulled the hat off her head and let her hair fall back down around her shoulders. "You were right, I was being followed."

    "Of course I was right." Juliette checked over her shoulder before turning sharply into a side alley and then diving into a sunken garage.

    "Why did you get me up here?" Annie-Bug pulled her hat back on, but didn't trouble to tuck her hair away.

    "Denmark." Juliette was leading the way at a quick walk down towards the docks. "The Nazis, as you probably know, blew the whistle on their occupation agreement finally and they proceeded to round up every jew they could find."

    "Heffelmeyers?"

    "The SS found about two thousand and they're furious. There are currently some five thousand jews in hiding in Denmark. We're pinching the Hawk and going to see if we can help."

    "See..." Annie-Bug took a careful breath and stared at Juliette's back. "Juliette, the Hawk isn't here."

    "Yes it is." Juliette pushed through a rough crowd on one of the docks and lead the way into a filthy little back water which seemed to have been forgotten by centuries. Rusty ironwork and rotting timber filled the area with major hazards and a foul stench. Annie-Bug was quite positive she could see at least one rat, which meant there were hundreds she couldn't see.

    "It's supposed never to leave the route between Glendevie and the mainland."

    "It needed some repairs." Juliette dropped easily down onto something Annie-Bug couldn't make out in the darkness. There was a weird scuffling noise and a soft gurgling noise.

    "Ju..."

    "Oh, for goodness sake, Anneliese." Juliette's face appeared out of the darkness. "Are you coming or not?"

    "Coming where?"

    "I'm standing on the Hawk and you are holding onto the mast for balance. I refuse to see you break your neck out of sheer stupidity."

    "But..." Annie-Bug abruptly frowned at the wooden pole she'd been clinging to and realised it was far too firm, smoothe and well treated to be a rotting pier post. "Do I just jump?"

    "Yes." Juliette vanished into the darkness. "And hurry up or we'll be here for hours drying this blasted engine out again."

    "I'm down." Annie-Bug settled nervously in a back corner as with a shattering roar an engine came to life under her feet. The roar settled abruptly down to a soft little 'putt-putt' and the boat was definitely underway by the time Juliette came flying up the companionway and threw herself at the tiller. Some dark obstacle was narrowly avoided and then they slid softly out of the backwater and into the harbour.

    "There are clothes down on the table. The glowstick should give you just long enough to change and push your clothes into the locker. Grab yourself a pair of gloves as you come back up and remember to tie your hair back." Juliette was consulting some chart as Annie-Bug cautiously negotiated the companion ladder.

    Juliette lifted her eyes from the chart and found her bearings swiftly in the darkness. The chart actually hadn't been necessary, but Juliette had decided to make doubly sure of her course before she acted. It had taken over a week to nurse the crippled Hawk to Aberdeen for repairs. Not that she had wanted to complain as they'd leisurely crept around the northern tip of Scotland. Now there was a week and a half in which she could do whatever she liked until the Hawk was due back at Glendevie. The North Sea and the Baltic were pretty bad at any time of year, nasty in winter, but Juliette had sailed many times before and she knew how to navigate.

    "Are you certain we won't be in trouble for this?" Annie-Bug came back out on deck in the trousers and heavy jersey Juliette had sent her after.

    "Only if the boat isn't back to Glendevie in a week and a half. We can at least help a little bit in that time."

    "Yes, but..." Annie-Bug stopped and sighed. "I can't help you realise."

    "I just need you to make sure I don't fall asleep or starve." Juliette gave a tight little grin in response to Annie-Bug's laugh. Another ten minutes and they could hoist the sail. It was going to be a long trip, but at the very least Juliette intended to find out the fate of the Heffelmeyers.

    The inlet, one of thousands scattered along the Swedish coast, seemed to have spent the entire two days the watch had wound through in a heavy fog. Anneliese would have left the boat except for the one fact that Juliette had ordered her to leave the boat under no circumstances what so ever. In the very worst scenario she was to push off and sail away. Juliette had made very clear how to sail the boat, but Anneliese was quite certain that she would make a mess of it.

    "Bug?" The call came softly from the shore.

    "Boots." Annie-Bug flipped the torch on and off in two quick little flashes which lit up the heavy fog.

    "Thanks." Juliette scrambled aboard and sank down with a very tired sigh. "The Heffelmeyers haven't got out yet."

    "Denmark?"

    "Denmark." Juliette nodded a tired head in agreement and then grinned. "Time to get these sails up again."

    "Right." Annie-Bug watched in quiet awe the skill Juliette displayed as she seemed to effortlessly pull those massive panels of canvas up. The jib was poled out to one side and achingly slowly the Hawk began to crawl backwards out of the inlet. The pole was brought in as the Hawk came clearly out into the Baltic Sea and Annie-Bug willingly threw her weight behind the task of getting the sails set for the crossing.

    "I realised we were swimming out to one of these little pirate boats which is attempting the crossing of the Baltic...but I never realised it was my own boat." The soft, dry voice scared Annie-Bug completely out of her wits. Fortunately she seemed to have lost her voice in the scare and her wits returned and warned of the danger of noise before she was in any position to make a noise.

    "You might at least have knocked." Annie-Bug crossed to the stern of the boat and used her torch to inspect the people in the water there.

    "I tried but couldn't." The response was calm. "Rope please."

    "Julie..."

    "If I have to climb aboard this boat unaided and with frozen hands I can assure you that Juliette will be the very least of your problems. Rope!" The voice was still remarkably soft, but Annie-Bug recognised the tone behind it.

    "Coming down." Annie-Bug hesitated and then abruptly scrambled a small rope ladder out of one of the lockers. The ladder had some neat little hooks and hung down the stern in a very nice way for a climber.

    "Thanks." There was a moment and then four people came scrambling aboard. Annie-Bug was astonished to realise that one of the people was actually two people, for a very small child was strapped to their back.

    "Get down below, there's clothes which he can find for you." Annie-Bug was looking at the shore as she spoke. "There's also food and probably anything else you might want or need."

    "Right now we need the first aid kit." James bundled the entire group down the companionway and then vanished after them with remarkable rapidity.

    Annie-Bug was scanning the shore and intervening water ceaselessly as she sought the double flash of Juliette's torch. This waiting was rather murderous, but the fact remained that french was not an appropriate language to employ in Denmark and Annie-Bug knew no others. However, at least now if she did have to sail without Juliette, she would not be sailing alone.

    "Have you eaten inside of twelve hours?"

    "I doubt it." Annie-Bug moved to the other side of the boat and squinted into the gloom. There was something on the shore.

    "Right, I'll bring food up for you."

    "Thanks." Annie-Bug applied binoculars to the task and then smiled for the double flash through the binoculars was almost blinding. Annie-Bug quickly replied to the flash and watched as two small boats separated from the darkness of the shore and began to cross. The boats were low in the water and piled high with people. Annie-Bug counted at least twenty heads.

    "Looks like you'd better eat fast." It was Alistair who settled beside her with two fairly heaped plates. "I'd better eat fast too. Jim's feeding the others down below and then we're going to go into hiding somewhere in this boat." Alistair was literally gulping the food down. "What a blessing to eat something other than bread and water."

    "I thought prisons also fed you veggie soup?"

    "Well if you can call dirty dish water with the odd unidentifiable floaty soup then you are welcome to it."

    "Erg." Annie-Bug wrinkled her nose.

    "Precisely." Alistair swallowed the last of his food, waited a moment or two while Annie-Bug finished hers and then vanished below with the plates.

    "That was quick rowing." Annie-Bug heard the faint knock against the side almost before Alistair had gone.

    "So would you row fast if you had the bloody SS on your tail." The voice came up from the water, but it was Juliette who was first over the rail, and with her came three small children, and then a massed rush of people. They went down the companionway almost as fast as they came onto the deck. A few bags were thrown up and then with a soft word both boats vanished into the darkness. There were a couple of hassled minutes while everyone was settled down below and the bags were sorted out and then Juliette was working on the sails as Annie-Bug began to bring up the anchor. The explosive ignition of the donkey caused Juliette to curse, and with the sail less than half up she headed back towards the cockpit to give a piece of her mind to whoever had so insanely betrayed their position.

    "You need the speed now." Alistair was at the tiller, his eyes fixed on some point directly ahead.

    "Where did you come from?" Juliette's expression was far from pleasant.

    "Irrelevant, there's an nazi cruiser coming in from further out, and unless we get moving they'll embay us."

    "How do you know there's a cruiser coming?"

    "I don't, Jim said it was out there and I'll take his word on his boat any day." Alistair's brows rose slightly as Juliette muttered an extremely impolite word.

    "I'd say they've embayed us already." Juliette had located the dim bulk of the cruiser and glanced worriedly down the companionway where so many people were packed. "On top of that the ignition of the engine will have given away our position."

    "They have no idea what sort of vessel they're after." The abrupt arrival of the new voice drew a slight squeak from Juliette and she noticed that Annie-Bug was watching worriedly from the edge of the companionway.

    "Did you know they were aboard?"

    "Of course she knew we were aboard." James abruptly waved Alistair forward. "We need to finish getting the sails up. Keep us on this heading."

    "But..." Juliette stopped. Everything in the boat froze actually, with the exception of the donkey which continued its soft 'putt-putt'. The movement was not very big, nor was the sound very loud, but the gun itself was very recogniseable and the click of a lifted safety was not to be mistaken.

    "Keep us on this heading or I can promise you I will blow your brain out of your head." The words were very, very soft. "This is a bad bay at the best of times and now there is only one way out and our chances are well over a million to one against. I wouldn't consider trying to move us elsewhere after I go forward for I can shoot just as well from there."

    "Where are we going?" Juliette had taken the wheel and settled on the sightings for heading. Annie-Bug felt numb as she stared across the cockpit at Juliette, a chilled detachment which isolated her form the world. Annie-Bug was stunned at the cold calmness with which her twin had responded to the gun. Annie-Bug knew James Darcy, he had not been joking and he would have fired that gun if Juliette had argued, and yet Juliette was completely undisturbed.

    "Old canal route." James went forward to help Alistair with the sails. "Goes well inland to a couple of lakes. Assuming they've not put a guard on it we'll be fine and we'll come out enough ahead that we can lose that cruiser even if they do spot us again. For now they know we're going for cover and they're willing to let us land the fugitives rather than pursue us and risk their hull."

    "How can we possibly come out ahead if we come out the same way as we went in?"

    "Don't be daft!" James came back from getting the sails up and shook his head. "We're not coming out the way we went in...we're coming out at least fifteen miles further down the coast by means of a drainage canal and a bay which no one is using because you have to be bloody mental to use it."

    "What about them?" Juliette indicated with a comprehensive finger towards the cabin as she moved aside and let James take the tiller.

    "I said mental to use it, I never said it was actually dangerous." James rubbed his nose and adjusted the course slightly. "I'm pretty certain we won't be wanted for another run after this shambles so with your permission we'll drop this lot in Sweden and burn straight back across. Dump Alistair and Annie-Bug at Aberdeen and then take the boat back around."

    "Oh, how kind of you. I have a reputation to consider."

    "So, we'll tape their mouths shut with DSA before we put them ashore and no one will know except for ourselves that you spent a week with a fiend in human form...a man." James gave a sudden grin as Juliette gave a huff and stalked off.

    "Why do you bait her like that?" Annie-Bug manage to find her voice again and somehow it brought her back up to speed with reality.

    "Half mo'." James gave a brief order to Alistair and narrowed his eyes for several moments, then relaxed. "What was that you asked?"

    "Juliette, why do you bait her like that?"

    "It's fun."

    "For you maybe, but not for her." Annie-Bug's mouth had tightened.

    "She could try leaving me alone." James kept his attention forward. "She could also attempt to behave in a partially intelligent manner."

    "She's scared...and so am I for that matter. Can't you be a little bit nice?"

    "Not that rope Al!" James made a slightly frustrated sound as he lunged forward to grab the necessary rope and pull it in. Alistair staggered slightly as the rope he held was literally torn from his hand, James knew how to pull those ropes and had significantly more pull than Alistair even when off balance. Annie-Bug watch in faint disbelief for James was stearing with one foot on the tiller.

    "I don't think that's very safe." Annie-Bug spoke as James resumed his seat and put his hand back on the tiller.

    "What you think in matters concerning this boat is totally irrelevant." James blinked. "Infact to be totally rude to you, what you think about any boat is totally irrelevant. Go reassure the princess that I'm only endangering her blasted reputation because I'm expecting nothing but storms and foul weather for the entire trip back and she is the only person who is going to be even halfway capable of helping me...she'd better get some rest because she won't get any more after we get out in the North Sea."

    "You can be awfully rude when you want to."

    "I specialise in it...particularly when I have the Nazis on my tail and I'm trying to keep people alive!"

    "Can't Alistair help?"

    "No." James' expression was totally disgusted. "That landlubber is a liability on legs."

    "Your kindly words are music to my ears." Alistair had come back into the cockpit. "How bad is the weather you're expecting?"

    "Force 8 or worse and we'll be fighting every inch of the way."

    "Why can't we help?" Annie-Bug was frowning.

    "Because you don't know this boat upside down, back to front and inside out. You sail in a storm in the middle of the night and you have to know you've got the right rope by feel alone...even when all the ropes are messed up on the floor of the cockpit and sloshing around in half a foot of water...which they usually are in conditions like we're sailing into. I'm intending to use you two for every last second I can afford to."

    "Jim, you need to rest as well." Alistair's brows had come together.

    "I will rest...after Juliette's back on deck and the storm is well and truly underway. It's called sleeping at the tiller on the long tacks. Juliette will be keeping watch and she'll wake me if anything needs my attention."

    "You seem confident about that."

    "Well, I feel fairly confident that Juliette de Bourgh Darcy likes life as much as the rest of us. She'll know perfectly well that it will need two experienced crew to get this boat back intact the moment she sets foot on the deck later." James returned his attention forward, very markedly signaling that the conversation was finished.

    There had been no conversation at all for several hours. Infact there had been almost complete silence ever since the Hawk had turned her bow for Scotland. There had been about two sentances at irregular intervals, but those had been strictly confined to the immediate business at hand, and the odd bit of cursing when things went too wrong and James had to lunge forward from the tiller to sort the mess out. Of the three people on the deck one was too preoccupied to talk and the other two were too scared of what might happen if they did talk. James' curt orders and thunderous expression were not conducive to cheerful chatting, nor was the weather if one were honest.

    Alistair was finding it harder and harder to do his job on the deck. If anyone had ever bothered to ask him for an opinion he would have firmly stated that they were on the verge of sinking. When waves weren't sloshing around ankle deep, the deck seemed to have malicious intent to throw him overboard. To pull the sails in with each tack was becoming a serious fight as the wind sought to tear the ropes from his grasp, which meant more and more often James was simply lunging forward to correct the sail himself, for clearly he felt the matter too urgent to waste words on. Alistair was pretty certain that within the next couple of minutes James was going to send them below deck and haul the unfortunate Juliette up. Alistair was about as keen for those two to be left alone on deck as Annie-Bug seemed to be. Alistair also failed to see how Juliette could possibly manage where he was expending every ounce of strength just to keep even. However honesty compelled him to admit that he was fast becoming more of a liability than an aid, and James seemed quite confident that Juliette would not be a liability... somewhat logical since she had clearly got the boat across from Scotland in the first place, though how she had done that was completely beyond Alistair. Annie-Bug was not becoming a liability, as Alistair had been, she had been a liability from the very first tack and Alistair had no idea why she hadn't been sent below deck already.

    "Alistair." James yelled rather abruptly from his station at the tiller. This was the moment of changing the crews, Alistair knew it because they'd only just finished setting the sails from the last tack.

    "Aye?" Alistair had found himself grabbing for support as once again the boat sank away violently and tried to throw him overboard.

    "Get some rest." James turned his head slightly towards Annie-Bug, who was huddled down in a corner and looking miserable. "You too Annie-Bug."

    "But..." Annie-Bug began to protest as Alistair slid into the cockpit.

    "Juliette is awake again. If you go down she knows she has to come up and you need the rest. Go." The tone brooked no arguement and Annie-Bug reluctantly slipped down the companionway ladder after Alistair.

    Alistair was not sorry to leave the deck, he was tired, his hands had been torn to shreds and his stomach seemed to have been tied in knots, but he had a bad feeling that things were only going to get worse for his stomach. Juliette looked incredibly small and fragile on one of the long couches. She was wearing oilskins already, a hat was in one gloved hand and she was reading the book she held in the other. James had been correct that she was awake. Infact Juliette was clearly expecting them to come down and send her up. Alistair looked at her for a thoughtful moment and then shrugged, clearly Juliette was very experienced in boats, but the wheres and whyfores were well hidden.

    "James seems to need you on deck."

    "I know." Juliette rose to her feet as Annie-Bug came cautiously down the ladder. "Sleep well, we'll probably be off the coast of Scotland when you next get on deck."

    "It's going to be bad?"

    "It's barely even started if the weather report I got hold of is anything to go by."

    "Wonderful. Anything we can do?"

    "There's a pump with the donkey." Juliette waved a vague hand. "Pump out any water that gets in."

    "Right." Alistair had stripped off his outer layer of clothes and was frowning thoughtfully.

    "There's tea in the galley and a set of dry clothes waiting for you."

    "Thanks...try not to get in another fight with him." Annie-Bug had worry in her eyes.

    "I fully intend to be totally civil. If there is a fight I can assure you it will not be of my making." Juliette tilted her head slightly in response to a yell from on deck. Alistair had jumped easily to a point halfway up the ladder and stuck his head out into the elements for a couple of moments. Alistair would later confess that that agile move was more of an accident than an act, and it had scared him witless.

    "Oh, James said to close the hatch as you go up. Something about the weather deteriorating." Alistair came back down the ladder and made way for Juliette.

    "I was aware of the deteriorating weather." Juliette spoke dryly as she picked up a second set of oilskins. "Sleep well both of you." Juliette shook her head slowly. "Use the galley sink if you must be sick because it won't be safe for you to come on deck until we tell you."

    "Right." Alistair nodded and then frowned, it had occured to neither him nor Annie-Bug that James was going to need oilskins, even though they'd both been ordered down and into them hours ago. James was still wearing just the water soaked uniform he'd been wearing when they'd met on the train. The man must be absolutely freezing. The hatch crashed shut behind Juliette as Annie-Bug struggled forward to change her clothes and find the tea Juliette had mentioned. Alistair dripped patiently and considered his thoughts as he waited for Annie-Bug to return.

    Juliette slammed the hatch shut and ran the bolt across it as soon as she reached the cockpit. The wind was a tearing force, but divinely fresh after the stuffiness of the cabin. She paused for a moment to clear her head and accustom herself to the conditions before she scuttled back to James and handed him his oilskins. Ducking under James' arm to take the tiller was automatic, but she wasn't sorry that James kept at least one foot on the tiller as he struggled into his skins.

    "Thanks." James was glancing up at the main with a worried frown, his mind clearly working in high gear. "Take us into the wind, I want to take those reefs now before this gets too bad."

    "Right." Juliette watched James dive forward, and reached to loosen the main halliard as he went. Once he'd attached himself to the mast, she pushed the tiller down and brought the Hawk plunging around and into the wind. The battle was brief but furious and the Hawk was much easier to hold with almost two thirds of her main neatly rolled around the boom and taking no wind.

    "Nicely done." James came back and grabbed the tiller.

    "Go change and get some dinner." Juliette hadn't released her hold on the tiller, or ducked away. "There should still be quite a bit of tea in the thermos, there's a cold pie which I didn't tell them about and you've a set of dry clothes forward."

    "I..."

    "You're shivering violently and you're no good if you bring yourself down with fever. Go while I can still hold her."

    "Right." James released the tiller and vanished below deck to the dull crash of the hatch slamming behind him. It took less than ten minutes for him to come back and Juliette wasn't sorry to see him. "Thanks for the orders, go curl up out of this wind for a bit."

    "Right." Juliette checked all the ropes carefully and then huddled down and took shelter from the wind in the cockpit where she was ready to move at the slightest call or gesture. This trip across was going to be hard for the weather was foul!

    "What the devil are you trying to do? Drown?!?!" James' expression was irate as he pulled Juliette back on board.

    "I think I must have been." Juliette gagged twice and then emptied a stomach full of salt water onto the floor of the cockpit. "I..." Juliette retched again, but it seemed that she had successfully ejected all the salt water on her first effort. "I'll be more careful this time." Juliette took a deep and steadying breath before she moved forward once more. Once more, just as she reached the mast the water flooding across the deck became too deep and knocked her feet out from under her. The Hawk came up into the wind with a snapping crack of canvas, fell over and eased around and down, giving James just enough time to lunge across and grab Juliette's life line which was as taught as a bar of iron. The Hawk eased back around and came broad side to the sea as James pulled Juliette back on board.

    "Devil take you for a stubborn fool." James brought the Hawk around until her back was to the wind, and in a flurry of foam and creaking rigging they tore back towards the Baltic as he hastily untangled the mess of ropes and returned them to there proper hooks.

    "It has to be done." Juliette threw up yet again and stared forward at the mess of ropes and halliards which jagged.

    "Coming round." James put the helm across and simultaneously heaved on the mainsail sheet.

    "All else seems good." Juliette winced as the mess for'ard flogged mercilessly. "I can do it this time." Juliette had flung herself forward before James even began his protest. James watched in tense silence, his attention split between the seas and the sails as he sought the safest route for all concerned. Juliette had scrambled frantically forward and just secured her second lifeline when the first wave slammed into her and winded her. Two wild lunges almost sent her into the water, but the mess remained beyond her reach. The jib clapped, shivered and then clapped again. Juliette recognised what was happening even though she could not hear James and she wasn't even really aware of what was happening to the jib.

    The Hawk came plunging around into the wind, and as the sails shook, shivered and snapped in frustration James watched as Juliette caught the mess and hooked it down. The Hawk was already falling off the wind and James kept his eyes firmly on Juliette, knowing that any moment now she was going to throw her hand up in the air and call for the Hawk to come up once more. The hand rose and James pushed the helm across firmly, driving the Hawk to plunge directly into the wind. He held it as long as he could before he let the Hawk resume her former course. Then the hand rose again and James drove the Hawk up again.

    Juliette got the staysail halliard tied down and had finished tidying the last of the ropes. A quick double check and then Juliette hastily untied her forward lifeline. The safe cockpit seemed miles away as Juliette turned towards it. The deck swung and lunged savagely, forcing Juliette to grab for some nearby stays, it was the only warning and it wasn't enough. An already chaotic world dissolved once more into the tearing green hands of a very hungry sea. The sea felt even hungrier now than it had before and as blackness swallowed her whole Juliette was aware of one desolate little thought. Of all possible acts of complete stupidity and senseless idiocy, she had committed the worst imagineable. She had failed to replace her stern life-line before coming forward this last time. Already exposed twice to the savage ferocity of the North Sea, this third event proved too much, there was only the faintest of checks around her middle as the rope failed. This time there was no agonising drag as the line caught and held her anchored to that little collection of wood and canvas in the middle of the North Sea.

    It was with a great deal of reluctance that Juliette opened her eyes again. The pain was bad enough that Juliette wanted little else than to die. However, pain meant that she had not died, and that meant that by some freak miracle of fate she had been fished out of the water before death had taken a hand in her affairs.

    "Oh...oh...urg." Juliette curled up on herself as she expelled her first load of sea water. Three more loads followed the first and it only seemed to make matters worse. Juliette knew that things really were better, but she was feeling terrible. She also seemed to be somehow entangled in a trawling net caught in the middle of a demented nightmare. Juliette carefully crawled out of the clinging confines of the net and began to fold it up. Whoever owned the net would undoubtedly prefer it put away rather sprawled in this messy fashion all over the cockpit and knotting the sheets.

    The net was stowed in an after locker when Juliette finally glanced to see who was helmsman in this nightmare. The dark, hunched figure looked like one of Notre Dames Gargoyles...not that there was anything particularly remarkable about those gargoyles, just that when you're likening the person you owe your life to to a gargoyle, it is always adviseable to at least find a prominent sort, as opposed to the simply ugly sort. Juliette began working on the assortment of knotted sheets and halliards which seemed to be swimming in about a foot and a half of water. The ropes were familiar to touch and Juliette couldn't help as smile as she carefully stowed them in their appropriate hideaways.

    "Thanks for picking me up again." Juliette had finished all her throwing up and all the tidying up as well as pumping most of the water out of the cockpit before she finally scuffled around to sit next to James. The tiller seemed to have a life of its own, creaking and banging as it sought escape from the remorseless grip which held it, a ceaseless war with a tiller which was never happy anywhere. They seemed to have been waging this war for all eternity...though in truth it had only been two days.

    "Well, thanks for pumping out the cockpit." James dropped his eyes for a brief, flashing grin. "Makes my chucking the trawling net over the side more than worth it."

    "I always wonder what a fish felt like."

    "That's actually a mine trawl and I'm glad you haven't exploded like one." James' tone was dry and he was frowning thoughtfully. "I think you'd better go below for an hour or two. You're undoubtedly freezing, shocked and still quite ill. Go get some rest, I can hold her."

    "The very most I'm willing to do is go down, change, grab some food and drink and then come back up." Juliette set her jaw stubbornly and scowled before giving a firm shake of her head. He was quite correct in what he ordered, because she was freezing, shocked and ill, but there was no way she was going to even consider agreeing. "There is no way I'm going to quit this deck."

    "Ju..."

    "No."

    "Fine." James turned his attention back out to the rough seas which surrounded them. "Go change, I'm starving."

    "When did food for you get mentioned?" Juliette gave James a definite look before she scrambled stiffly across to the hatch, unbolted it and jumped down in a spattering of spray and a howl of wind.

    "What on earth is happening?" Annie-Bug was peeking out of her bed. "Are we sinking?"

    "No, just bad weather." Juliette peeled off her oilskins, then several other layers. "Where's Alistair?"

    "Sensibly guessing you're down here to change and not looking." Alistair's voice came from the other side. "Why all the circling?"

    "Halliard got loose and needed to be tied down." Juliette dug a change of clothes out of a locker. "Easier to tie them when you're going head on into the wind...problem is you can't head the wind for long in this weather without falling off, so we circle." Juliette towelled herself down roughly and scrambled into the change of clothes. "The weather continues to deteriorate though so you'd better meet the inboard pump we will start taking water."

    "Right." Alistair pushed his curtain aside and dropped down onto the floor. "Where?"

    "Back here with the donkey." Juliette pulled up the boards and revealed the small pump. "Just a simple matter of pulling on the handle."

    "Right." Alistair nodded briefly and scrambled back into his bed as Juliette went delving in the galley for food. The food was in a watertight cabinet and Juliette looked at it twice before frowning and looking a third time. The pie was untouched, and yet James had come down to eat earlier. Juliette quickly inventoried the supplies and came to the conclusion that if he'd eaten anything it was an orange or two. Juliette frowned and then proceeded to grab what she'd come for. Two slabs of pie joined a couple bottles of lemonade and then Juliette donned her wet oilskins before scrambling back out onto the deck.

    The weather had deteriorated markedly even in the short time Juliette had been below deck. The waves were now almost incessantly breaking across the bow and foredeck. The canvas gleamed earily in the darkness and the rain, occasionally flogging as the Hawk came too high as it fell off the back of a wave. The water was already almost ankle deep in the cockpit as Juliette shuffled across to where James sat.

    "Think we can hold it with one hand each?" Juliette grabbed the tiller with one hand as she handed James the second slab of pie. "Change that, one hand each and my knee." Juliette braced herself as she began pushing the pie into her mouth.

    "Certainly." James cursed as his pie went over the side and with a sigh he turned his attention to the fizz. Juliette had opened her mouth to offer him her pie, but then she closed it again, firmly gagging herself with a mouthful of pie. James Darcy dropped nothing overboard by accident. Juliette wasn't about to sacrifice her pie to the salt sea just because James was too polite to refuse food he didn't want. James spat the cork over the side and gulped a couple of mouthfuls before coming up for more air. "Could hold it one hand myself, just wouldn't be as smooth or direct as it might be." James' tone became slightly distracted and a sharp glance up showed Juliette that he was squinting at something forward.

    "Wha..." In that moment Juliette caught a first glimpse of what had caught James' attention. Without a word Juliette shoved her pie in a pocket and dove for the sheets.

    "Ready about."

    "Aye." Juliette continued to keep her eyes on the faint patch of light which occasionally glimmered out.

    "Going round." James put the tiller over and brought the main across before resetting it. Juliette had the jib across and set almost as soon as the bow had passed through the wind. The Hawk lunged forward on her new course and James took a moment to consult his watch and the compass. The results of his consultations joined many other scribbled consultations in a small book.

    "We going to clear it?"

    "We'd better." James' eyes had narrowed in annoyance. "That's Scotland...or at least I hope it is! We're in one hell of a mess if it's not."

    The Hawk creaked quietly on her mooring. The peaceful water of the bay made it impossible to even consider the foul weather which had plagued the entire trip back. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and barely a knot of wind disturbed the water in the harbour. James had been three parts comatose and enjoying the sunlight when a soft hail disturbed him and brought his head up.

    "Hullo." James straightened up with a blink, Juliette was standing on the small wooden jetty with an unreadable expression on her face. "I think I managed to finish everything before I fell asleep."

    "Looks like you did." Juliette had already noticed the spotless decks and coiled ropes. "Mind if I come aboard?"

    "No." James pushed to his feet and watched as the small dinghy came across, then extended a steadying hand to help Juliette aboard. "Come for a reason?"

    "The house is cold and silent."

    "Fair enough." James settled back down again. "Pinch a pew and soak up the sun...it'll only give you freckles."

    "Are you staying for long?" Juliette had tucked herself into a corner of the cockpit and was hugging her knees.

    "You're making a mess of your skirt." James made the observation quietly and then there was a long moment of silence. "I don't know...I doubt it."

    "Why did you come at all?"

    "Accident." James tried to make his legs a bit longer so he could stop some more of the divine sunlight. He'd seen so little sun of late that he was fast turning into a sun-worshiper who would no doubt spend the rest of his life chasing the sun. "I was just moving to safer territory, but I ran into Bennet and it seemed a trifle too rude to simply ignore him...so I tagged along."

    "I thought Alistair was meant to go south with the prisoners."

    "He was." There was a queer finality to the words and Juliette tactfully withdrew from that particular issue, though she marked it in her mind for consideration. There was also the question of how James had managed to terminate his time as a prisoner of the Nazi Regime, but that was a question which would probably never be answered and Juliette knew better than to even consider asking it.

    "I presume the usual question will receive the usual answer."

    "It will." James gave a small, and decidedly rueful smile.

    "When will you come back?" There was a long silence before Juliette asked her next question.

    "Not until the war has ended at the earliest."

    "I see." Juliette stretched her legs out and closed her eyes, reclining comfortably in her corner. There was something about boats which made life so easy and comfortable. James sat in silence for several minutes, then closed his eyes and let himself go back to sleep. A few moments of peace. A chance to forget the insanity of governments. A chance to dream of worlds that might have been and might yet be.

    December 16th 1943 - London, England

    Determination is one of the most important ingredients in success.

    They made a very nice tableau as they stood in the doorway. Lucille appreciated the symetrical nature of the scene as well as the taste in attire. The twins were identical, in both dress and opinion, to look at one was to look at the other and it was only after careful consideration that Lucille reached her conclusion of which was which. The man between them was impeccably attired and seemed somehow to set off what was best in the appearance of his companions. Lucille studied the man for a very, very long moment before a faint smile graced her expression.

    "What is it?" Brian was finding his first public outing far more frustrating than fun.

    "The Darcy party has arrived." Lucille spoke softly. "Juliette and Anneliese are attired in identical dresses, with identical hair. Mr Darcy..." Lucille hesitated.

    "Mr Darcy?" Brian leant forward imperceptably.

    "I think it is the real Mr Darcy." Lucille spoke after a long moment. "I'm not sure why I feel so, but I'm quite certain it is not Rafe."

    "He's real name is Stan."

    "I first met him as Rafe and I'm not likely to ever forget that."

    "So why has the room fallen silent?"

    "Because everyone is looking." Lucille smiled slightly.

    "They would, for de Bourgh Darcys and Darcys to be seen voluntarily in each others company is unheard of...are you sure one of them doesn't have a concealed weapon?"

    "In those clothes they couldn't conceal a toothpick without ruining them."

    "It does sound like they've done the dressy thing...try and get Jim over here."

    "It's terribly tempting to make a snide comment in response to that." Lucille gave a sniff and moved away while Brian chuckled and settled himself more comfortably.

    "I have been sent over to entertain you." James settled on a nearby seat with a soft noise of relief. "Not dancing?"

    "You're going to sacrifice yourself again are you?"

    "I am not that suicidal tonight...nor will I accept any dares."

    "Then why ask me?"

    "I had to ask something."

    "Why?"

    "I was told to entertain you."

    "Well I prefer to ask questions as entertainment."

    "Fire away." James stretcthed his legs out and gave a small yawn.

    "Where have you surfaced from?"

    "The deepest of dark depths where I have been in search of..."

    "You really can be a pain!" Brian shook his head. "Where's Luce?"

    "Your ever so charming wife stole my fair companions for what she described as a good old gossip. Juliette was looking sick at the mere idea and they've vanished to that place where all women vanish when they wish to gossip."

    "I wanted to ask about Pemberley."

    "What about it?"

    "What's happening?"

    "Absolutely nothing."

    "Can anything happen?"

    "Tonnes...but it will take both time and money and we have neither."

    "Jim..." Brian hesitated, began again and then stopped again.

    "Spit it out, Binks, you've clearly got something in mind."

    "I want you to change this damned...regency."

    "Why?"

    "Because I can't do the work." Brian abruptly pushed his fingers through his hair. "I can see enough these days not to fall on my face and I can hear enough to carry a conversation, but I certainly can't do the work that you want from me."

    "How do you know I want you to do anything?"

    "Because Danning is dead, Pyro hates management, Caroline has enough on her hands and Dr Marshall is dead."

    "When did she die?"

    "Six months ago."

    "Damnation...better go make my appologies to her grave." James rocked his head irritably. "I thought there were three others also helping you?"

    "Yes, but they don't do anything."

    "All the more reason for me not to change the trust."

    "Jim!"

    "What do..."

    "Put me in charge of Pemberley."

    "Uh, Binks..."

    "The Dowager Countess of Deraux has returned to her castle on the grounds that she finds the Dowager House too uncomfortable and she was...concerned...about the children."

    "Umm." James drew his brows together. "Binks, you can't use the house."

    "There's the chapel and the cottages." Brian cracked his neck. "We can rebuild the house as we work on the gardens...we can work on the farms and clean up the land."

    "There's a lot of land..."

    "James, we never have fewer than fourteen children. Those children need somewhere to live where they can be children. They need activity, they need challenge, they need lives to live." Brian abruptly sighed. "Things were working at Deraux until that old bat came back. Things will work fine if we just get somewhere else to go. Lease us Pemberley and at least we'll be doing something that's good for Pemblerley."

    "I'm not leasing Pemberley to anyone." James closed his mouth firmly.

    "Fine." Brian cracked his neck again. "I just thought you'd be willing to let us do something for Pemberley since it's just getting messed up being left as it is."

    "I'll keep the idea in mind." James rose to his feet. "Looks like you've got company coming."

    "Thanks for the warning." Brian's mouth twisted up as he watched James' vague shadow depart. It was such a pain that Jim could so reliably play true to type, it had been a nice idea. The newcomer was a complete bore and Brian was not sorry to see the last of him.

    "Annie-Bug is furious because Annie is married." Lucille's return was unheralded before that comment.

    "What-what-what? " Brian shook his head to clear the trailing ends of various conversations which had been within audible range.

    "Annie-Bug, she mad as hops because Neddie got married."

    "Neddie is married? When? Where? Who? and how did you find that out?"

    "Juliette had it from Caroline who heard about it from a friend of hers, a polite way of meaning Pyro, who had it from a friend of his...meaning the MAGI network."

    "How do you know about the MAGI?"

    "Well it does keep cropping up everytime I turn around and is treated so hush-hush that it's only sense to listen and figure things out."

    "That doesn't explain the when, where and who...though it clearly explains the how."

    "The when, where and who are unknown...except that I know Annie was fighting with Rory and so the conclusion is obvious...though equally it's a not to be mentioned matter...which means everyone is talking about it."

    "Except for those who have yet to hear." Brian rubbed his head. "Why is Annie-Bug furious?"

    "I think she wanted Annie to marry James."

    "Wouldn't have worked and anyway..." Brian stopped and rubbed his head again. "Why does Annie-Bug want that?"

    "I think she considers it romantic."

    "Well I wish she'd consider commonsense for once. Whenever this gods-cursed war does end the only thing that will change in Jim's life is that instead of running around in circles for a reason he shares with none, we'll be all too aware that he's running around trying to make money and save Pemberley."

    "Why?"

    "Because ducky, if Jim goes bust we're going to be in a pretty pickle since my pension won't cover us." Brian wrinkled his nose. "Besides which there's a shortage of houses if Jim runs out of them...though I've a nasty feeling we're running out of houses currently."

    "Well if her little imperial highness would cease trying to tell me what I should and shouldn't do every time I draw breath there wouldn't be half the problems there are...oh bother, I'm wanted. I'll bring you back a drink later."

    "Have fun." Brian leant back and shook his head slightly. Lucille would not be back for ages and she would undoubtedly forget the drink.

    "Hullo?" It was Juliette, or at least Brian thought it was Juliette rather than Anneliese, in truth he had no idea.

    "Which one are you?"

    "It's me."

    "That would be terribly helpful except that I recognise one aspect of that which Annie-Bug would never consider using for a second. How's Rosings?"

    "Wet."

    "Come for a reason?"

    "To be polite and notify you that your wife is making your excuses so you can stop considering whether you can sleep under your chair."

    "Wonderful." Brian smothered a yawn. "Did she say anything else?"

    "She's bored so you're going to waste some petrol and you'd best agree to sleeping in the car."

    "Fine with me...tell her I'm delighted but I'm still waiting for my drink."

    "The car will be here any minute and she'll then come grab you."

    "Wonderful." Brian sank back in his chair for Juliette had departed again, after yet another of her vaguely human moments.

    "Where are we?" Brian winced as he bashed his knuckles into his head and blinked around in the blackness.

    "There you rather have me." Lucille spoke with mild confusion. "I've followed the directions exactly...but really I rather thought I'd have seen it by now."

    "Seen what?"

    "Well...there you also have me." Lucille nibbled on a handy thumb. "I mean, there are directions, but you see I'm used to my own directions and it rather occurs to me that perhaps I should have not...ah-hah!"

    "You found it?"

    "Mm-hmm. Just another ten minutes." The car lurched and then jolted onto some side road which was clearly in a very bad state of repair.

    "So what were you thinking you shouldn't have done?"

    "Well, it doesn't matter any more...I mean I was told to pretend that Annie gave them to me, and I did, but then it occured to me that perhaps that comment was not actually meant literally so much as figuratively and the map-maker was perhaps not aware of what a liability Annie was as a map-maker."

    "I thought your sister was an infallible guide."

    "She is...she is not an infallible map-maker though and she's even worse at writing directions. However I apparently under-rated this map-maker for clearly her vagaries are well known."

    "Who..." Brian stopped abruptly, his nose lifting as he suddenly sniffed the air. "We're at Pemberley."

    "How can you tell?"

    "I just can." Brian slowly inhaled a deep lungful. "Why come here?"

    "I got given the directions and I wanted to have a look."

    "This must be the back entry."

    "Why?"

    "Front drive has at least one tree blocking it." Brian sniffed the air again. "Who gave you directions for it?"

    "James."

    "But..."

    "He told me to tell you in firm and definite terms that he rents Pemberley to none...particularly not his steward who has been defaulting on his duties for approximately..." Lucille brought the car to a halt and used a torch to inspect Brian's watch. "Mm, almost eight hours now. Unless of course he was delayed by Lady Mallerby."

    "Knowing James he was not delayed...least of all by Lady Mallerby." Brian shook his cuff back down over his watch. "But what are we going to do for tonight?"

    "There's only about ten minutes left of tonight and James seemed to think there were two cottages and a chapel which could accomodate us. I wanted to see them before we even began considering bringing the children up here. With Paige having come back with Peter and both Marmelade and Marine being around we need to be certain all is well before we bring them."

    "Good sense...it will also let you know what sort of a mess I'm pitchforking you into in our quest to escape from her ladyship."

    "Anything will be better than living with her Ladyship."

    "Well, it's been two and a half years since anyone's spent any time or effort on this place...it will be a very bad mess."

    "Good. Gardens in the morning, your accounts in the evening and mayhem in the afternoons." Lucille started the car again. "He said there was at least the imitation of beds in one of those cottages and we might as well find them."

    "Do you think we can make this work, Luce?" It was a queer little qualm which had oozed up and the question was almost pleading.

    "We're going to make it work." Lucille's response was grim and uncompromising. "We're going to make it fun while we are at it...but we are going to make it work." There was a moment of silence and then Lucille spoke again. "This place is too beautiful and has far too much potential to be let die like this. We're going to make it work."

    Continued In Next Section

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