Against the Tide (32 page)

This was going to be difficult. He'd taken refuge in an almost childish truculence. I felt like a housemaster interrogating a wayward pupil. How would I get information out of Alan? I decided to be indirect. ‘How did you first meet him?'

He looked surprised. ‘Green Street slipway. July 20
^th
1896. We were both eight.'

‘That's over forty years ago yet you remember the exact date?'

‘It was a rather special occasion.'

‘Why?'

‘He was drowning. I saved him.'

I must have looked incredulous.

‘You remember when you fell off the wall at the pool and almost drowned when you were about six?'

I would never forget. It was probably the reason I was still frightened of deep water. ‘I don't remember the date though.'

‘Ned was always very precise about such things. We even celebrated the anniversary a couple of times.'

‘What happened?'

‘He slid off the slipway. I was there playing with some friends and pulled him out.' He was agitated again. ‘I'm sorry, Jack, but this really isn't important now. Can't we leave it?'

My side still throbbed with pain but I pressed on. ‘No. What was he doing in Jersey?'

Fred gritted his teeth. ‘On holiday, with his mother. They were staying at Bramerton House, overlooking the beach. She waded in fully dressed to help pull him out.' He paused. ‘She bought me an ice cream.'

It was so incongruous that I laughed.

‘It was my first ice cream.' He seemed lost in time again.

I switched tack. ‘How did you get the bike?'

‘This is bloody silly. I got it. That's what matters – and now I wish I hadn't.'

‘Why?'

‘Alright, if you must. I was ordered to get reacquainted with Ned –'

‘By whom?'

‘The bloody party. Who else?'

‘Why?'

‘He had a certain use.' He inspected his hands. ‘He knew people. Oh, bloody hell, he knew everyone. You must have read that in the paper.'

‘You said reacquainted?'

‘Yes, we were friends at Oxford.'

‘I didn't know you went to university.'

‘There's a lot you don't know and, believe me, now is not the time for my life story.'

‘I understand, so just tell me about the bike.'

He rubbed his hands together and gave Malita the “more tea” look. ‘After the inquest, his brother inherited the bike. I bought it from him and took it to the BUF.'

‘The British Union of Fascists? I thought you said you were working for the Communist Party?'

He cracked his knuckles. ‘I was. I had to join the buffers – Oswald Mosley's mob – to report on them. It's how the Nazis got the votes – jackboots on the streets. The party were worried the same might happen in England.' He leant back in his chair. ‘Mosley was very keen on Ned. Thought he could save Britain – mistook his love of Arabs for a hatred of Jews. Not too many brain cells in that organisation.'

Was he trying to confuse me or had he led such a tortured existence that truth was on a long holiday? If I stuck to the essentials, I might make sense of it.

‘Why did they want the bike?'

He chuckled. ‘Mosley couldn't have Lawrence but he wanted his bike as a talisman. He also believed that it had been sabotaged and that certain papers might have been hidden in it.'

‘What?'

‘Oh, yes. That wasn't reported, was it? Ned couldn't stop writing – letters, books, diaries. After the accident, his cottage at Cloud's Hill was searched but his most recent diaries weren't found.'

‘How do you know?'

‘I'd already taken them.'

Was there no end to my uncle's nefarious activities? I looked askance at him. ‘What was so important about them?'

‘Names, places.' He was serious again. ‘A few minutes before the crash, he sent a telegram to Henry Williamson to arrange a meeting with him to discuss something of importance.'

‘Who's Henry Williamson?'

‘I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He wrote
Tarka the Otter
and the
Patriot's Progress
. Joined Mosley after meeting Hitler at a Nazi rally in Nuremburg. Harmless, wouldn't hurt a fly, but a true British eccentric. Also wealthy enough to be acceptable to Mosley. Great friend of Ned's. He and GBS helped buy the bike.'

‘GBS?'

‘George Bernard Shaw, another of Ned's friends. You must have heard of him.'

‘Of course but what was that about a telegram?'

‘The telegram is public knowledge. There was lots of press speculation about the purpose of the meeting.' He leant forwards again. ‘Williamson was working with Mosley to arrange for Ned to meet with Adolf Hitler.'

31

I was stunned. ‘Are you sure?'

‘I was working for Williamson – as his chauffeur. Ned got me the job. Look, Jack, this is so complicated. Do you really want to know more?'

I wanted to know why I'd been beaten up by one group and followed and threatened by another. Both were connected by their interest in the bike.

‘Let me get this straight. You bought the bike and gave it to the BUF. What happened to it then?'

‘They had me strip it and check every part for sabotage. It hadn't been tampered with, though it did need a complete service. The rear brake needed relining but had worked in his emergency stop. The front brake cable had snapped though. He was in second gear and travelling at about thirty-five miles per hour at the time.'

‘So it was an accident?'

‘Yes, it was the most unfortunate accident.'

‘How can you be so sure?'

‘Williamson wanted to see Lawrence that day. I was driving. We stopped at Cloud's Hill but he wasn't there. We drove into Bovington. On the way, I saw him riding towards us.'

He stopped. The words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He looked at me, his eyes liquid. ‘As we passed each other, I waved. He looked round in surprise, recognised me and smiled. Then he was gone out of sight over the rise –'

‘The black car.'

‘Jack, nearly all cars were black then but you're right – I was driving the mystery car. There was a national appeal to find it but Williamson wouldn't come forward.'

‘But didn't you stop to help Lawrence?'

‘We didn't see the accident. Williamson decided he wanted a newspaper and told me to drive into Bovington before we went to see Lawrence.

When we returned, the road was closed. An ambulance shot past us. I asked a soldier what had happened. He mentioned a motorbike accident and I knew immediately.'

He exhaled deeply. ‘I told Williamson but he ordered me to find another route to Cloud's Hill. He sent me in to see if I could find anything which might have been incriminating. Stupid bigot. He trusted me – not very bright for a eugenicist.'

‘A what?'

‘Eugenics. Breeding humans, keeping the herd healthy. We've practised it for thousands of years but only with animals. Like Hitler, Williamson believes in improving the bloodline through selective mating. More importantly, he believes in removing all contaminants. All those with a mental illness, Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals. In short, anyone who isn't of pure Aryan stock.'

‘What? Aryan supermen like Himmler, Goebbels and Goering?' I'd seen their photographs. It was laughable.

‘That's what I mean about brain cells. The BUF seem to have had theirs bred out of them.'

I tried to refocus. ‘Did you find anything?'

He sipped his tea and looked out of the window. His face was gaunt in the reflected sunlight. He made his decision. ‘The less you know about that the better.'

‘Why, Uncle?'

Malita rattled her cup, spat something in Spanish at him then turned to me. ‘Is reason we go to France. I tell you if he don't.'

‘Right, Lita, if he's that desperate to know.' He grabbed my wrists. ‘Even she doesn't know where they are and I won't tell you. If I don't survive… then the diaries will never be found, which is just as well.'

‘What's in them?'

‘You don't want to know. It's the connection with the bike that you're after, isn't it?'

‘Yes, but this could be the reason why these men are so interested in
Boadicea
–'

‘Possibly – anyway, they were written in exercise books. After I was instructed to steal the bike back by my masters, I rolled them up, slotted them into the tubular frame and sealed it. I crated the bike up, locked it in a garage in Birmingham and gave them the key. I thought the books would be safe there. And they were. The party sent me to Spain soon afterwards.'

He smiled at Malita. ‘When we returned, they were so grateful they gave me the crate. And that's it, Jack. That's the story.'

‘At least all you're going to tell me.' I must have sounded exasperated.

‘For the moment, Jack. One day, perhaps.'

‘So, when they broke into your house, they were looking for the diaries?'

‘I don't really know. I have no idea how they might have guessed where they were. The only one who might have suspected I had them was Williamson.'

He picked up the photographs. ‘This is what's important now. I have to meet Hélène, show her these, get her advice on the diamonds, but I can't get to France and they'll probably stop her getting in.' He scratched his wiry hair. ‘I wanted to keep you out of this, Jack. You know I did but –'

‘It's alright, Uncle. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. What do you want me to do?' I just hoped it was something violent to that little Carl bastard.

‘I need you to ask a favour of your friend Saul.'

‘Pardon?'

‘His boat, the
Star
?'

‘
Jacob's Star
.'

‘Would he take me –'

‘Us,' Malita interrupted. ‘He take us. I go with you this time.'

‘Us.' Fred rolled his eyes. ‘ To Les Écréhous.'

‘I see. Clever thinking. Halfway to France – no active customs or immigration, only a few people staying overnight.'

‘One of your relations has a cottage out there, doesn't he?'

‘Yes, he goes there most weekends though.'

‘How about tomorrow afternoon? Do you think he'd let you have the key?'

Thursday, half-day closing. No school. Saul would jump at the opportunity.

‘Don't worry about the key, I know where it's kept. I'm sure Saul will help, any excuse to put to sea. He knows about the diamonds but not about Hélène or Lawrence. Are you prepared to tell him more?'

Fred looked at Malita who nodded. ‘Do you think he'll understand?'

I tapped my nose in imitation of Saul. ‘Well I'll only tell him enough to get to sea. The rest can wait until needed.'

I left
Boadicea
with Fred and retrieved my own bike,
Bessy
, from the yard. On the journey to Saul's, I tried to make sense of Fred's story. I found the information about Lawrence quite disconcerting and, should I ride her again, I would feel more wary of
Boadicea
– perhaps I should call her by her real name and change her sex.

I was way out of my depth but the anguish caused by Caroline and Kohler grated with me like a broken tooth. I had to resolve that even if the other issues were way out of my reach.

I contemplated visiting Ralph and showing him my bruised body. I rehearsed the scene in my mind.

My patronising uncle stood up to greet me. Refusing his hand, I pulled out my shirt. No explanation just a sardonic “thanks” then I marched out without waiting for a response. It was tempting, but what would it achieve?

I didn't plan to show Saul my bruises. I didn't want to frighten him. He laughed at my cricket outfit then ushered me into the kitchen and pointed to his purchases.

‘I could only get six tins of Lyle's golden syrup and I tried three shops. That's twelve pounds in weight but I'm not sure it's enough. Have you got any?'

‘I don't make cakes but I know my mum keeps some in the larder. I'll see what I can find. What about the bleach?'

He pulled a crate from under the table. ‘Here we are, six bottles of the best. I got some strange looks buying these at the same time as the syrup.'

‘You think this will work? Wouldn't it be easier to dump some seawater in the tank?'

‘Much simpler but you'd need quite a lot and if the tank is nearly full, it would spill over. It's only plan B but, if you can find two more tins, that should give us nearly a gallon of sludge. Add in about the same of bleach. The tank in Hayden-Brown's boat probably holds about 200 gallons.' His eyes gleamed. ‘Now, if we were to mix some ammonia in with the bleach, we would liberate some chlorine gas and have a nice little explosion.'

‘Saul, surely you remember why you were removed from chemistry classes?'

‘Spoilsport. The fuel mixture is plan B anyway. Don't forget that torque wrench. You have to get the injectors back on at the right tension after you've dropped the ball bearings in. Everything should appear normal so the engines have to start and run. We don't want them breaking down in the harbour.'

‘I've had another thought about that. Those ball bearings will certainly bugger the engines but they may not get very far. We need them to break down way out at sea. I wonder if something smaller but more abrasive might be better –'

‘Good thinking and how appropriate. I'll pick out a handful of the hardest diamonds and you can pop them in. Hoist with his own petard, as we naval folk like to say.' He was getting overexcited now.

‘Calm down. We've got to sneak aboard first and hope that the key is still where it was when I was last there with Caroline. If we can't get in without breaking something then it's plan B. We mustn't forget the fuel funnel from your boat.'

‘Don't worry, I've checked the tides and it's quite a big one this evening – over thirty-seven feet. It's not going to be dark until the tide is falling though so we need to wait until after eleven to make the move. I'll get a taxi to run me and the supplies down there early evening and load the tender. You meet me at the harbour at ten o'clock. Afterwards you can run me back here.'