The Confession - Charles Todd [40]
Rutledge found himself thinking that to the people of Furnham, isolated and insular, the murder of an unknown archduke in Sarajevo held little importance in the course of their lives. The arrival of strangers in their midst—some of them volatile and living only for today because they couldn’t count on tomorrow—was immediate and personal. Furnham hadn’t wanted change—or to change. And it was thrust upon them without a by-your-leave.
Finishing his tea, he didn’t wait for his toast. But as he walked out of the dining room into Reception, he heard someone crying in a corner behind the stairs. He thought it was very likely the young woman who had served him.
There was nothing he could do, and trying would only have made matters worse.
He went out to his motorcar and drove back to the farm where he had trespassed the night before.
He found the farmer in the milking shed, busy washing down after the morning milking. The man was ruddy-faced and broad in the chest, a little taller than Rutledge. He looked up suspiciously as the stranger walked into the shed, followed by the black dog busy wagging its tail as if it were well acquainted with the newcomer.
“I thought you were here to protect us,” he said to the animal, then turned to Rutledge. “And what is it you want?”
Rutledge said easily, “My name is Rutledge. And you are—?”
“Name’s Montgomery.”
“Good morning, Mr. Montgomery. I understand your farm was taken over during the war for use as an airfield.”
Montgomery bristled “I had no choice in the matter. Your lot took my land without a word to me, just walked in and told me that my best pastures and the marshes nearest the sea were now the property of His Majesty’s Government. Near enough. And I had to find somewhere else for my cows to graze where those damned aeroplanes wouldn’t frighten them into fits. And somewhere else to grow my corn and my hay for the winter. One of the aircraft crashed and caught fire. The blaze nearly touched off my roof. You won’t persuade me to anything you could have in mind. So you might as well turn around and walk out of here before I lose my temper.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not here to ask anything of you other than information. I’m interested in learning how Furnham felt about the field.”
“I don’t know why it should matter to you. But the fact was, I was vilified. Threatened. You’d have thought I’d written to the King personally and begged the lot of them to come here. I was damned whichever way I turned. If it hadn’t been for Samuel Brothers and the other farms, I’d have lost everything. As it was, it took me nearly a year to clear away the broken glass, uproot the foundations, and turn the landing field back to pasturage. The latrines soured the land, and there was oil and petrol everywhere. I did it myself, and no one volunteered to help me. The rabble-rousers were all for sabotage, but nothing came of that. Still, there were clashes. I’d not have been surprised to see murder done on either side. The fliers called this a hardship post. No one wished to be assigned here. We even had a few American aviators from Thetford, and three of them died here. That upset my wife, I can tell you. When a man burns, the smell doesn’t go away for days.”
“You mentioned Americans coming in from the field in Thetford. Did you know that Ned Willet’s son was in service there?”
“Ben? I can’t tell you when I last saw him. It was before the war, I know that. Is he coming down for the funeral? Ned was a decent sort. I was that sorry to hear he’d died.”
“Ben Willet himself is dead. He was found floating in the Thames nearly a week ago.”
“Ben? Now that’s sad news.” He shook his head. “My wife called him a changeling. Nonsense, of course, but he wasn’t like the rest. He came here with his father one summer, needing work. A boy of twelve, mucking out the stables and the like. She lent him books, and I found him once in the loft, reading. He was that upset, thinking I would sack him.”
“Did you know Wyatt Russell or Justin Fowler?”
“I knew who Russell was.