Capital Union, A by Victoria Hendry Page A

he just nodded and made a note in his book. The officer came into the drawing room and asked him where he wanted the papers to go. He had a box full of Jeff’s things. I jumped up and shouted, ‘You can’t take those,’ but Mr Ford told me to sit down in a sharp voice, as if I was a dog. I insisted I wouldn’t unless he told me what was going on.
    ‘There is a war going on, Mrs McCaffrey,’ and he added that Jeff had declared in a letter to
The Scotsman
that he would not accept conscription. ‘Your husband has set himself against the government at a time of national emergency, Mrs McCaffrey.’ It put him beyond the usual niceties and what did I know about that?
    ‘It’s not my fault if people take me to rallies, or use funny German words.’
    He leant forward. ‘What kind of German words?’ But the only one I could remember was ‘
der Tag
’.
    ‘Can you remember who said that?’
    ‘I think Douglas said, “
Komm der Tag
”.’
    ‘So was that Douglas Grant, Mrs McCaffrey?’
    ‘Mr Grant, but you needn’t think anything bad about him.’
    ‘I am not thinking anything yet, Mrs McCaffrey, but canyou remember what he meant when he said, “
der Tag
”? It means, “Come the day”. You will be helping your husband if you cooperate with us. I wouldn’t like to have to ask him the same question down at the station.’
    I said I thought maybe they were talking about Douglas’ appeal, or Hitler in Norway, or something. He nodded and wrote some more in his book, then lifted his head as if he was listening and I recognised Jeff’s feet on the stair, taking them two at a time. When he rushed in, I was so glad to see him I began to greet. He looked as if he wanted to hit Mr Ford. ‘How dare you come into my house and distress my wife!’ he shouted.
    I was proud of him. He looked so brave. Mr Ford held out his hand and said he was sorry to spring this visit on him but in the present circumstances he was sure he would understand the reason for his call. He passed him the search warrant. The wind went right out of Jeff’s sails and he sat down and glared at Mr Ford, who seemed to be enjoying himself. His eyes sparkled . He was sure Jeff would understand that since a certain German had dropped in outside Glasgow so unexpectedly last year, His Majesty’s Government had been understandably alarmed at the prospect that certain, and he paused before he said the word – Nationalists – might have been tempted to accord him a warm welcome.
    Jeff went bright red and said no Scotsman would have anything to do with a Nazi like Hess, but Mr Ford only replied that some Scotsmen were finding it a problem having anything to do with Churchill, either.
    ‘Scottish Nationalism is not National Socialism, Mr Ford,’ Jeff said, as if he was talking to a tumshee-heid. It went very quiet. They glared at each other and I asked if I could go to the bathroom but Mr Ford snapped, ‘Just a minute, Mrs McCaffrey,’ and they kept staring at each other, although I was bursting.
    ‘The day your lot added a capital letter to the word “ nationalism ” it became my business, Mr McCaffrey – it threatenedthe body politic,’ said Mr Ford. ‘Politics is semantics writ large.’ He paused. ‘Your wife tells me you are a close associate of Douglas Grant?’
    Jeff looked at me and then nodded. Mr Ford straightened his cuffs. ‘I believe I noticed you, and your lovely wife, at the Bannockburn rally yesterday.’
    ‘Did you?’
    ‘Can I assume then that you are of the same mind as Mr Grant?’
    ‘Don’t pigeonhole me, Mr Ford. I have my own opinion on these matters and I certainly don’t like to be told what to do by Westminster. They aren’t forcing conscription on Northern Ireland.’
    ‘I am sorry you see it like that. It is a matter of some urgency that we garner sufficient forces to fight the Nazi menace and at the same time preclude an attack on another front. As you know, the Germans are in Norway on a northern