A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [1]
Maisie stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. She rinsed her mug while looking out of the window and across the garden. “Dad, I hate to say this, but you’re being stubborn.”
“Well then, all I can say is that you know where you get it from, don’t you?”
They had parted on good enough terms, with Frankie giving his usual warnings for her to mind how she drove that motor car, and Maisie reminding him to take care. But as she replayed the conversation in her mind—along with those other conversations that had come to naught—she felt her heels dig in when she looked at the vehicle on her tail. She was damned if she would put up with some amateur following her for much longer.
She wound down the window and gave a hand signal to indicate that she was pulling over to the side of the road, thus allowing an Austin Seven behind to pass, followed by the motor car that had been shadowing her for at least half an hour. As soon as they passed, she turned back onto the road again and began to drive as close to the vehicle in front as safety would allow.
“Now you know I know. Let’s see what you do with it.”
She noted that there was no number plate on the black motor car, and no other distinguishing mark. Both driver and passenger were wearing hats, and as their silhouettes moved, she could see the passenger looking back every so often. When they turned left, she turned left, and when they turned right, she followed. Soon they were back on the main road again, traveling up River Hill towards Sevenoaks. At the top, the Royal Automobile Club had stationed two men with water cans, ready to help motorists having trouble with overheated vehicles. It was a long hill, and on a hot day in August, many a steaming motor car lurched and rumbled its way to the brow, with the driver as glad to see men from the RAC as a thirsty traveler might be to reach an oasis in the desert. Allowing the black motor car to continue—she thought it was an Armstrong Siddeley—Maisie pulled in alongside the RAC motorbike and sidecar.
“Having a bit of trouble, love?”
“Not yet, but I thought I might get the water checked. It’s a hot day.”
The man glanced down at the radiator grille and nodded when he saw the distinctive silver RAC badge with the Union Jack below the King’s Crown.
“Right you are, Miss. Don’t want to risk burning up a nice little runner like this, do you?”
Maisie smiled while keeping an eye on the road. Soon the Armstrong Siddeley approached the hill again, this time from the opposite direction, and as it passed, both driver and passenger made a point of looking straight ahead. Police, thought Maisie, sure of her assessment. I’m being followed by the police.
“She didn’t need much, but just as well you stopped,” said the RAC man. “Can’t be too careful, not with this weather.”
“Thank you, sir.” She reached into her shoulder bag for her purse and took out a few coins. “I wonder, could you do me a favor? A black Armstrong Siddeley will presently be coming back up the hill; he’s probably turning around at this moment. Could you pull it over for me?”
The man frowned, then smiled as he took the coins and looked in the direction Maisie indicated. “Is this the one, coming along now?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Maisie thought the man looked quite the authority as he stepped forward into the middle of the road in his blue uniform and peaked cap. He held up his hand as if he were a guard at a border crossing. The Armstrong Siddeley came to a halt, and Maisie stepped forward and tapped on the window. After a second or two, the driver wound down the window and Maisie leaned forward just enough to appear friendly, smiling as she affected a cut-glass aristocratic tone.
“Gentlemen, how lovely of you to stop when you must be so terribly busy.” Her smile broadened. “Would it be too boring of me to ask why you’ve been following me? I think it might save on petrol and your time to