A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [56]
“Oh, I see. Well, you never know, perhaps he’ll go down with chicken pox—do you know his name?”
Daniel shook his head. “His father is that man Dunstan—I can’t remember the surname. He’s been here to the college, oh and—” He looked around as if he were about to reveal a secret. “I think he’s sweet on Miss Lang. I’ve seen him with her, but I think they don’t want anyone to know.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. When I saw them they seemed as if they were on the lookout for people who might recognize them—which is silly, really. For a start, you can’t really avoid looking at Miss Lang—she’s so pretty.” He laughed, waved, and hurried to catch up with his classmates.
Maisie scooped up the essays left for her, and pushed them into her briefcase along with her notes and two books she had brought to class. She knew she had to work fast. There were people she wanted to see, and only so much time in which to see them.
As she walked towards the office on the way to the staff room, Maisie was stopped by Miss Hawthorne, the bookkeeper. Miss Hawthorne, who usually came in on a part-time basis, was now at the college every day, helping with administration until a new secretary could be found. A temporary typist had been taken on, and though paperwork was kept in check, it was clear that Miss Hawthorne was having some trouble with her work—she seemed more than a little harried, and rather breathless, as she called out to Maisie.
“Miss Dobbs! A moment, please.”
Maisie turned. “Hello, Miss Hawthorne—keeping your head above water?”
The woman sighed and shook her head, which seemed to have become even grayer overnight. “I’m choking on the water, if you must know.” She held out a small sheet of paper towards Maisie. “Please be advised that I am not a runner of messages; however, a Mrs. Partridge telephoned, most insistent, and asked that I inform you immediately”—she pronounced the word immeejetly—“that she needs to speak to you as a matter of some urgency.”
Maisie took the paper. “Oh dear. I wonder what’s wrong.”
“You’ll have to walk down to the telephone box on the corner, you know. No staff telephone calls from the office.” She looked at her watch. “You’ll have time before the next period, if you go now.”
Maisie did not reply, but turned and ran to the main door, across the driveway and down the street to the telephone box. Shaking, she pulled out a few coins and pressed them into the slot. Had something happened to one of the boys? What was so urgent that Priscilla had tracked her down at the college? The telephone rang just once before Priscilla answered.
“Priscilla, what on earth’s the matter? Is everything all right?” She could feel her hands shaking.
“Thank heavens! I thought I would have to wait by this telephone for hours before you called back. And what are you doing at a college? Good Lord, have you lost your senses—a couple of terms at Girton was enough for me, but you are a glutton for punishment.”
“Pris! For goodness sake, what’s the matter?”
“Sandra is in police custody.”
“She’s what?”
“That hurt my ear. She’s in police custody; Douglas is on his way to Vine Street police station, where we understand she’s being held on suspicion of breaking and entering. We think she’ll be moved to Holloway Prison, at some point.”
“Breaking and entering?” Maisie put her hand to her head. “Breaking and entering? You are sure we are talking about the same young woman—Sandra? Breaking and entering? Holloway Prison?”
“I don’t think I have ever heard you panic, Maisie—you’re repeating yourself. Anyway, it wasn’t one, but two properties, so young Sandra is in a fair bit of bother.”
“Priscilla, I can’t get away until Friday—can you and Douglas do what you can to get her out? I will deal with this when I get back.”
“You should know that she broke into the offices of a William Walling. He’s quite the businessman, top-notch city contacts, that sort of thing.”
“What on earth would she . . . ?” Maisie’s mind was racing now. “Where else did she break into?”
“The garage off the Marylebone Road where her husband