back to the pub and tell someone they were out there cutting up the tires on the Jeeps. But if they saw her, Gawd knows what they'd do to her. She felt sick at the thought.
In any case, by the time she got back to the pub, they'd be off and running anyway. It wasn't worth risking her life. She'd just have to wait until they were gone.
Squatting down behind the bonnet of the Jeep, she tried not to think about the pain in her knees. It seemed hours before they moved off. By that time they'd cut every one of the tires on every Jeep in the car park. Eight of them all told. Looked as if the Yanks would be walking home.
Just before the masked men left one of them chalked amessage on the wall of the pub. Polly saw them running out of the car park and down the road. Even though her knees hurt and her legs were cramping, she waited until their footsteps had faded away into silence before she crept out from her hiding place.
She hobbled over to the pub to see what they'd scribbled on the wall. It was a message she'd seen a lot already.
Yanks go home!
And underneath, three distinct Ms, linked together. The three musketeers had been at work again.
CHAPTER
5
"Did you find Martin's glasses yet?" Elizabeth asked the next morning. She sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Violet to finish stirring the stodgy porridge that had become a regular offering for weekday breakfast. With eggs and bacon rationed, that particular treat was reserved for Sunday breakfast.
Now and again Violet managed to buy some smoked haddock, but Elizabeth didn't care for it without the customary poached eggs on top, and reluctantly settled on the porridge as a way to fill her stomach until the more palatable lunchtime menu.
"Can't find hide nor hair of them," Violet announced, as she dished up the steaming oatmeal onto the remaining china plates that were part of the second best service. "Isent Sadie all over the house looking for them. I'll have Polly help look for them today. Sadie won't go up into the attic rooms by herself. Not that I think that old goat climbed the stairs to the attic, but you never know with him nowadays."
"I thought the attic doors were locked," Elizabeth murmured. She was glancing at the headlines, disturbed to see the announcement that the Allies were expected to invade Sicily, and that bombing raids had already begun. As always, her thoughts were on Earl, and how involved he would be in the campaign.
"They are, but you know Martin has a set of keys to all the doors. I think we should take them away from him. Heaven knows what he's been up to lately."
"I don't think that's really necessary, do you?"
Violet dumped the plate of porridge in front of her. "I think we should lock him in his room, but I suppose that's too much to ask."
Elizabeth tore her gaze away from the newspaper. "Why? Has something happened?"
"I wondered when you were going to pay attention to me." Violet glanced up at the clock. "Where is he, that's what I want to know. He knows what time I serve breakfast. If he can't get here on time he doesn't deserve to eat it."
The door swung open at that instant and Martin shuffled slowly into the kitchen.
Violet gave him a sharp look. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"
"Good morning, madam," Martin said, pausing by Elizabeth's chair. "May I be permitted to join you at the table?"
"You certainly may, Martin." Elizabeth smiled at the old man. He looked so different without his glasses perched on his nose. "I see you haven't found your glasses yet."
"I haven't?" Martin fumbled at his forehead with shaky fingers. "Bless my soul, no wonder I can't see to tie my shoelaces."
Obviously irritated at being totally ignored, Violet snapped, "You never look through them anyway, you old goat. You see just as well without them. I don't know why you bother to wear them at all."
"Perhaps you should try wearing spectacles yourself," Martin said huffily. "Then perhaps that fuzz on top of your head would look more like real hair
In any case, by the time she got back to the pub, they'd be off and running anyway. It wasn't worth risking her life. She'd just have to wait until they were gone.
Squatting down behind the bonnet of the Jeep, she tried not to think about the pain in her knees. It seemed hours before they moved off. By that time they'd cut every one of the tires on every Jeep in the car park. Eight of them all told. Looked as if the Yanks would be walking home.
Just before the masked men left one of them chalked amessage on the wall of the pub. Polly saw them running out of the car park and down the road. Even though her knees hurt and her legs were cramping, she waited until their footsteps had faded away into silence before she crept out from her hiding place.
She hobbled over to the pub to see what they'd scribbled on the wall. It was a message she'd seen a lot already.
Yanks go home!
And underneath, three distinct Ms, linked together. The three musketeers had been at work again.
CHAPTER
5
"Did you find Martin's glasses yet?" Elizabeth asked the next morning. She sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Violet to finish stirring the stodgy porridge that had become a regular offering for weekday breakfast. With eggs and bacon rationed, that particular treat was reserved for Sunday breakfast.
Now and again Violet managed to buy some smoked haddock, but Elizabeth didn't care for it without the customary poached eggs on top, and reluctantly settled on the porridge as a way to fill her stomach until the more palatable lunchtime menu.
"Can't find hide nor hair of them," Violet announced, as she dished up the steaming oatmeal onto the remaining china plates that were part of the second best service. "Isent Sadie all over the house looking for them. I'll have Polly help look for them today. Sadie won't go up into the attic rooms by herself. Not that I think that old goat climbed the stairs to the attic, but you never know with him nowadays."
"I thought the attic doors were locked," Elizabeth murmured. She was glancing at the headlines, disturbed to see the announcement that the Allies were expected to invade Sicily, and that bombing raids had already begun. As always, her thoughts were on Earl, and how involved he would be in the campaign.
"They are, but you know Martin has a set of keys to all the doors. I think we should take them away from him. Heaven knows what he's been up to lately."
"I don't think that's really necessary, do you?"
Violet dumped the plate of porridge in front of her. "I think we should lock him in his room, but I suppose that's too much to ask."
Elizabeth tore her gaze away from the newspaper. "Why? Has something happened?"
"I wondered when you were going to pay attention to me." Violet glanced up at the clock. "Where is he, that's what I want to know. He knows what time I serve breakfast. If he can't get here on time he doesn't deserve to eat it."
The door swung open at that instant and Martin shuffled slowly into the kitchen.
Violet gave him a sharp look. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"
"Good morning, madam," Martin said, pausing by Elizabeth's chair. "May I be permitted to join you at the table?"
"You certainly may, Martin." Elizabeth smiled at the old man. He looked so different without his glasses perched on his nose. "I see you haven't found your glasses yet."
"I haven't?" Martin fumbled at his forehead with shaky fingers. "Bless my soul, no wonder I can't see to tie my shoelaces."
Obviously irritated at being totally ignored, Violet snapped, "You never look through them anyway, you old goat. You see just as well without them. I don't know why you bother to wear them at all."
"Perhaps you should try wearing spectacles yourself," Martin said huffily. "Then perhaps that fuzz on top of your head would look more like real hair
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