Free Any Human Heart by William Boyd Page B

Flag by 8.20.
    It was quite a nice pub, the Lamb and Flag, not too busy, and we had pickled eggs and sardine sandwiches with our pints of bitter. We did attract a few strange glances from some of the regulars as one or other of us went to the bar for replenishments — our khaki trousers and hobnail boots did rather signal ‘military’, I thought — but nobody queried our presence. The landlord asked us if we were anything to do with the archaeological dig at Little Bradgate and Ben said, very smartly, that we were on our way there to lend a hand, so that seemed to settle the question of our identity.
    Tess arrived early, just before 9.00, and asked for a port and lemon. Ben and I both went to the bar to fetch the drinks to allow the lovebirds a moment alone. When we returned they were sitting squeezed up against each other, holding hands.
    This was as close as we had ever been to Tess and, given we had witnessed her tender ministrations, both Ben and I could hardly conceal our curiosity. She was a quiet plumpish girl with a pale square face and the slightest hint of dark downy hair on her upper lip and a slightly more luxuriant silkiness upon what we could see of her forearms. When Peter introduced us she said, in a quiet voice, ‘How do?’ to each of us, her eyes lowered demurely.
    She and Peter talked to each other in hurried, almost inaudible voices. I could tell from the pitch and timbre of her words that she was tense — a crisis brewing at the Home Farm — and that whatever they were planning clearly was of some urgency. Ben and I went back to the bar for our third pint. By now I was feeling a little tight.
    ‘Look at them,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe it. It’s like a dream.’
    ‘A bad dream,’ Ben said. ‘How did Peter end up with this wench? What’ve we done for him, Logan? What did we think we were playing at?’
    We talked on resentfully, glancing round from time to time, not bothering to conceal our jealousy from each other. I looked at Peter, almost with hatred, as he sat there holding hands with his sturdy country girl.
    ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ I said.
    Ben looked at his watch. Ten to ten,’ he said. ‘Better telephone school and tell them we’re lost.’
    Then the door of the pub swung open and Captain Gregory and Sergeant Tozer walked in.
     
     
Friday, 6 June
     
    In half an hour I’m up before the Lizard. We have been separated, like prisoners, and have each been moved into new studies. I feel curiously indifferent about my fate — in fact I think I’d rather like to be expelled. Ben feels the same: the sooner he goes to Paris the better, he said, and invited me to join him. Only Peter is in a state of shock, terrified as to what his father might do if he were sacked.
    The only bit of luck we had was that Tess was not discovered. Peter had leapt away from her the minute he spotted Tozer and Gregory (who were making for us at the bar) and, besides, they would never have dreamed there could have been a girl with us. They were in a filthy mood: St Edmunds had captured the Abbey ammunition dump with conspicuous ease.
    Things became worse when we couldn’t find the bramble bush beneath which we’d hidden our rifles and Tozer swore vilely at us until Gregory asked him to stop.
    Parker has just poked his snouty face round the door and has said that the Lizard will see me now.
     
     
    Later. I am going to be controlled about this. I am going to set down the facts and record the sequence of events as they unfolded while they are fresh in my mind. I must never forget this, I must never forget what happened.
    I knocked and was summoned in. The Lizard was standing looking mournfully out of the window, his pipe going hard. He puffed steadily as I stood there and I could hear his lips making unpleasant little popping sounds like a gas mantle not firing properly.
    ‘I’ve bad news for you, Mountstuart,’ he said, still looking out of the window. ‘But I’m not going to sack