Pauline flushed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  Vi raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t ya? You think no one can smell it on you? You can eat as many mints as you like, but if you’re not careful Matron’ll sniff it out and you’ll be out on your ear.’

  ‘You’re a spiteful bitch, Vi Williams. And if I like a drink now and then, what’s it to you?’

  ‘Just sayin’, Paul. You ought to be careful. My nan was a right one for the sauce, and she ended up yellow as a daffodil and dead by fifty.’

  Without a word, Pauline stood up and stalked away.

  Lily watched her go with a concerned frown. Vi was right; Pauline’s flask was always with her at the moment. Last night when she’d returned from her walk with Bert, she’d stunk of booze, but Lily hadn’t thought anything of it, because she’d been in the pub with Bert. But now she thought about it, there was always the faint aroma of alcohol around her. And she did eat a lot of mints. But surely she wouldn’t be stupid enough to drink on duty?

  After Pauline’s bad-tempered departure, the other three quickly finished their tea. But as Lily was hurrying to the supply cupboard to fetch the mop and bucket, she stopped short as she saw Pauline and Dick deep in conversation again. Those two really did seem to have a lot to say to each other, but she couldn’t begin to imagine what. She marched up to them. ‘Come on, Paul. No time for a chat, we’ve got to get on.’ She shot a glare at Dick. ‘And what were you doing round mine yesterday?’

  Dick smiled. ‘I was just taking a stroll. You lot looked very cosy. And all that lovely grub. Give my regards to your ma when you get back. On second thoughts, I might pop in there myself later. Can’t deny your sister’s a good little cook. Catch you later, Pauline.’

  ‘Urgh,’ Lily said as she turned to Pauline, whose face was paper-white. ‘Hey, what’s up, love? Did he try to feel you up or something?’

  ‘No! No, he didn’t. I just don’t like him, is all.’ She turned the handle of the cupboard and went in, causing a racket as she kicked over one of the metal buckets before reaching in to her pocket to pull out her flask.

  Lily grabbed it from her before she could open it. ‘For God’s sake, Pauline! Vi’s right. You’ll be chucked out if they catch you. And Bert won’t be happy if you turn up to your date drunk.’

  Pauline’s shoulders sagged as she sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. Take it away and hide it from me till later.’

  ‘But why do you drink so much?’

  ‘It just . . . helps me. When I’m nervous or worried or something.’

  ‘What are you worried about?’

  Pauline hesitated, and Lily briefly wondered if she was going to confide in her. But then Pauline waved her hand vaguely in the air. ‘Well, it’s nerve-racking, ain’t it? Bombs, shells, bloody planes. I can’t hear myself think for the noise. The wonder is we’re not all drinking.’ She picked up the mop and bucket and left without another word.

  Chapter 21

  Nellie groaned as the bell above the door rang and the tall, thin figure of Muriel Palmer, clad in a smart blue dress and a tin hat, strode in. Instead of taking a seat, she marched up to the counter and held out a hand. Nellie looked at it for a moment before raising her eyes to the other woman’s.

  ‘To what do I owe the honour, Mrs Palmer?’ she asked.

  Mrs Palmer withdrew her hand with a frown, blinking as she took in Nellie’s outfit. Today, she was wearing the bright pink apron covered in yellow flowers over her red summer dress. The effect was startling. ‘As promised, I have come to talk to you about how we can join forces.’ She glanced to her right and her eyebrows rose at the sight of Polly watching her from the cage, her head cocked to one side. ‘Is that a parrot?’

  ‘No. It’s a German spy,’ Nellie said sarcastically. ‘So be careful what you say around her.’

  Mrs Palmer sighed. ‘I had hoped we could have a civilised conversation. But perhaps I need to speak to someone else about my cave task force.’

  Nellie relented. ‘All right. Let’s take a seat. Glad, bring us a couple of teas, would you?’ she said, as she came around the counter and sat down at Jasper’s usual table, gesturing for the other woman to take the seat opposite.

  Mrs Palmer perched primly on the edge of the chair, her handbag on her lap, and nodded her thanks as Gladys placed a cup of tea in front of her.

  Gladys threw a perplexed look at Nellie, who just shrugged. The last time Mrs Palmer had been in, she’d galvanised them all to help the evacuated soldiers, and, Nellie thought grudgingly, she’d done a pretty decent job of that so the least she could do was hear her out.

  ‘Like I said the other day,’ Mrs Palmer began, taking a sip of tea, ‘now that Dover seems to be in sight of the German guns as well as the German planes, the caves are starting to be utilised more and more by the townsfolk. The WVS has been tasked with providing refreshments to families who take shelter, and when I considered who best to help me with this endeavour, only one name came to mind.’

  Nellie was flattered in spite of herself. ‘Funnily enough me and Marianne have been talking about that very thing. We reckon we could provide soup, tea and sandwiches. Just need something to keep it warm. They’ve got electrics down there, haven’t they?’

  ‘They have. And there’s talk of arranging proper sanitary facilities. I anticipate that with the caves being as big as they are, we could all move there.’

  ‘Not on your life,’ Nellie asserted. ‘Shells or no shells, I’m not budging. But that don’t mean we can’t help out.’

  Mrs Palmer smiled. ‘I must say, Mrs Castle, you are far more receptive than I anticipated. Now . . . What I suggest is—’

  Her words were cut off by a commotion at the door as Roger Humphries strode in purposefully, his expression grim as he looked around the room.

  ‘Constable Humphries! I wasn’t expecting to see your ugly mug again today,’ Nellie called to him.

  He walked directly up to her. ‘I’m here in an official capacity, Mrs Castle,’ he said pompously, as the customers looked on curiously. ‘Perhaps you and I could go into the kitchen for a little chat?’

  Nellie stiffened and crossed her arms. ‘Why?’

  Roger glanced around, then bent closer to Nellie. ‘We’ve had some disturbing reports from a concerned member of the public and I’ve been instructed to verify them.’

  Nellie stood up then, her face paling. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘If you could step into the kitchen with me, Mrs Castle. I need to speak to Marianne as well.’

  Around them, the customers had gone silent as they waited for the latest drama to unfold, and at a table by the window, Nellie noted a scruffy-looking man wearing a checked shirt, his tin hat sitting beside him on the table. She frowned. The journalist had been coming in almost every day, sitting at the table, listening to the conversations around him and scribbling busily in his notebook.

  With a sinking heart, Nellie led Roger into the kitchen where Marianne was frying rissoles for lunch.

  ‘What seems to be the problem, Roger?’ she asked, turning to look at them in surprise.

  ‘The problem, Marianne, is that we’ve had reports of contraband goods being stored in the café. Which leads us to believe that someone here—’ he looked at Nellie ‘—has been procuring goods illegally.’

  Marianne felt her stomach clench as she shot a look at her mother, who, though pale, looked composed. ‘And who told you that?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who. I’m here to verify the reports, and if I find there has been any wrongdoing, then I have no alternative but to report the matter to the highest authority.’

  ‘My, Roger. Here’s me thinking you was just a humble copper, but all the time you have a direct line to God,’ Nellie sneered.

  Roger flushed. ‘This is not a joking matter. If the reports are true, then there will be serious consequences for you and the café.’

  There was a knock at the back door and when Marianne went to answer it she found two more policemen waiting there. Without a word, she stepped back and let them in.

  Gladys poked her head through the hatch. ‘People are still ordering food, Nellie. Shall I tell them to leave?’

  ‘Don’t you dare. Marianne, get on with your work. As for you lot, wasting your time harassing innocent people, you should be ashamed of yourselves. But if you must, you must. Go on then. Search away. And if you find anything send it my way. We’re a bit short of quite a few things as it happens. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to my meeting.’

  Nellie marched back into the café and sat down at the table. ‘Where were we, Mrs P?’

  Mrs Palmer stared through the kitchen door curiously. ‘What’s that all about?’

  ‘It appears someone’s gone and told the police we’ve got black market goods here. But he won’t find anything.’

  ‘Won’t he?’ Mrs Palmer took a sip of tea and replaced the cup very precisely on the saucer then looked at Nellie carefully.

  Nellie held her gaze for a moment, then looked away. ‘He might.’

  ‘You don’t seem too concerned.’

  Nellie shrugged. ‘My conscience is clear. Anything he finds has been bought solely for the purpose of helping people.’

  Mrs Palmer was silent for a few moments. Finally, she gave a slight smile. ‘That’s very altruistic of you, Mrs Castle. I suppose under those very special circumstances, getting a little extra can be excused.’

  Nellie smiled back. ‘Alitistic, eh? Whatever that is, that sounds about right.’

  ‘So you’re saying they might find something?’

  Nellie sat back. ‘What if they did? You still want my help?’

  ‘Oh yes. I still want your help. And I might have to confess to the good constable that you have very kindly allowed the WVS to store a few bits and pieces here since our storeroom got damaged by the shells the other day.’

  Nellie stared at her in shock. ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘If, as you say, the goods are for local use, then just this once – and I mean, just this once – I will see what I can do.’

  ‘Well, well, well. Maybe you an’ me have more in common than I thought.’

  ‘Maybe we do. Now, do you want me to talk to the man?’

  Nellie gestured towards the kitchen door. ‘Be my guest.’

  Mrs Palmer stood up and swept into the kitchen. ‘Mrs Castle,’ she said loudly, ‘we’ll be sending a van around later to pick up the goods you’ve so kindly stored for us now that we’ve found a new place.’ She stopped short as she caught sight of Roger emerging from the basement carrying a bag of sugar. ‘Oh, how very kind of you, Constable Humphries. But the van won’t be here till this afternoon, so if you come back then, you can help us load.’

  Roger stared at the woman. ‘What do you mean? I am here investigating a very serious allegation, and it appears I’ve caught you red-handed, Mrs Castle. There’s bags of stuff down there.’

  ‘Well, of course there are, Constable. I put many of them there myself,’ Mrs Palmer said haughtily.

  Roger’s mouth dropped open. ‘Are you telling me that you have been buying black market goods.’

  Mrs Palmer drew herself up to her full height. ‘How dare you. The very thought!’

  ‘I-I mean, this bag of sugar . . . and the flour. Are you telling me it’s yours?’

  ‘Of course it’s mine. Well, not mine, exactly. These are goods assigned to us by the mayor himself for the relief of the townspeople. You didn’t really think that Mrs Castle would be trading on the black market, did you?’ She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Can you imagine? A woman of her character. Why, there would be an uproar.’

  ‘I-I . . .’

  Nellie was watching the scene with growing admiration. Who’d have thought Muriel Palmer would be saving her bacon – literally! ‘It’s a scandal, that’s what it is. The police are harassin’ me. What I’d like to know, Rog, is who had the gall to imply that I would do such a thing? Marianne, take that sugar from the constable, will you? Stick it back where it belongs, nice and safe, so Mrs P can collect it later.’

  ‘I-I most heartily apologise for the misunderstanding, Mrs Palmer; I’m sure we’re all very grateful for your efforts.’ He held the bag out to Marianne, who was standing by the stove fiddling nervously with a tea towel. ‘Of course, you must put it back, Marianne. And apologies for interrupting your work.’

  Nellie tapped her foot. ‘And me, Roger? You got anything to say to me?’

  Roger stared down at his feet for a moment, but finally he cleared his throat. ‘I am sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs Castle. Let me gather the other officers from upstairs, and we’ll be out of your hair.’

  Nellie followed him to the bottom of the stairs. ‘And if I find any of your buffoons have nicked my drawers there’ll be hell to pay,’ she shouted. ‘I know what you lot are like – any excuse to wear a woman’s knickers.’

  Laughing uproariously, she winked at Mrs Palmer, whose lips were twitching. ‘I don’t mind admitting, Mrs P,’ she whispered, ‘I’m not often lost for words but that little performance was worthy of the Hippodrome.’

  Mrs Palmer inclined her head. ‘Like I said, Mrs Castle, just this once.’

  ‘Understood. And I’d be delighted to give you a hand. How about we pop down the caves now and you can show me what’s what?’ She darted into the pantry and returned holding up her large wicker basket. ‘Marianne’s taken to doing a batch of baking each morning to hand out in the basement, but we may as well take it to the caves now. Then maybe later you can bring your battle bus round to Castle Street and we can load up. What do you say?’

  ‘You want to go now? But what about—?’ She nodded towards the stairs.

  ‘Marianne and Glad can see them out.’ She took down her tin hat from the hook and made her way through the café, Mrs Palmer following along behind.

  At the door, Nellie paused and stared at the journalist. ‘You get all that, did you, Ron Hames? I don’t know why you spend your days loitering in here. Why aren’t you on the cliffs with the other ghouls, watching those young men’s lives get shot down in flames, or propping up the bar at the Grand?’

  The man shook his head. ‘There’s enough of them there. I’m interested in the people’s war, Mrs C. And I’m especially interested to hear about the policemen wearing your drawers.’ He held up his notepad and pen.

  Nellie rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve been here all day eavesdropping on conversations. You could be a German spy for all I know. So go on, git! Give us a bit of privacy. And if I see one word printed about any of this, you’ll not be welcome in here again.’

  The man grinned at Nellie and stood up. ‘I’ll leave for now. There’s enough material in this café and the market square to keep my editor happy for weeks.’ Chuckling, he slammed his helmet onto his head and walked out into the square where he was swiftly swallowed up by the crowds of people.

  Outside, Nellie paused as she stared at Lou Carter, who was serving some servicemen at the whelks stall. It was only a few days since the woman had threatened to report her, and she felt her anger swell. Pushing a couple of people aside, she marched up to the counter.

  ‘Reckon you should get rid of those cigs soon as, Lou. Wouldn’t want our friendly local bobby sniffin’ around your stall, would you?’

  Lou frowned. ‘’Scuse us a mo, love,’ she said to the waiting soldier. ‘What are you on about, Nellie?’

  ‘As if you didn’t know. Just had a visit from Roger Humphries. No harm done, given as I’ve done nothing wrong, but I don’t need the hassle.’

  ‘And you think I dobbed you in?’

  ‘Last I remember, you said you would, and seems for once you were as good as your word.’

  Lou narrowed her eyes. ‘I might shout me mouth off now and again, but you know me well enough to realise I got no time for the boys in blue.’ She stared through the windows of the café, then frowned. ‘I think you should be lookin’ closer to home.’ She nodded towards the window. ‘I seen that young man before.’

  Nellie followed her gaze and for the first time noticed the young man sitting in the corner by the window. He had his cap pulled low over his face, but she recognised him all the same. It was the same man who’d watched them at lunch through the window the day before. The same young man that Pauline had rushed out to see.

  ‘Who is he?’

  Lou shrugged. ‘No idea. He buys a tub of jellied eels from me now and gain. Always very interested in your place. Askin’ questions.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Stuff about you and the kids.’ She hesitated. ‘I feel like I’ve seen him before . . . he has the look of someone . . . I just can’t quite bring it to mind . . . So I’d start my questions there, if I were you. You and me have our differences, but I’m no grass.’

  Nellie stared thoughtfully through the window. Lou was right. The Carters had always skirted on the wrong side of the law, and she couldn’t see the woman reporting her, no matter what her grievance. So who had? And why was this man so interested in her and her family?

  She nodded. ‘I’ll believe you this time. But if those rozzers are back at my door, then you and your Terence need to watch out, cos I might not be so forgiving next time.’

  Lou folded her arms across her ample chest. ‘I’m tellin’ you, Nell, if you’re havin’ trouble, then it’s nothing to do with me. If I want to have a go I’ll do it to your face.’

  Nellie nodded reluctantly. ‘Fair enough. But do us a favour. Let me know if that one comes back, and if you see him and that Pauline together. He were round here yesterday and the minute she saw him she were off like a whippet.’

  Nellie joined Mrs Palmer, who’d been watching the exchange from a few feet away. The woman shook her head. ‘My my, I never realised what a hotbed of scandal it was here. What with police raids, journalists and conspiracies over the whelks, it’s a wonder Mrs Christie doesn’t come here for inspiration.’

  ‘Who?’ Nellie asked.

  ‘You know, Miss Marple – Murder at the Vicarage?’

  At Nellie’s blank look, Mrs Palmer sighed. ‘Oh, never mind. Hopefully, there’ll be no murders here, at any rate. Though judging by the look of Mrs Carter, I have my doubts.’

 

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