Page 165 of The Gathering Storm

‘I’m afraid it’s probably coming quite soon,’ Basil said. ‘Have you heard of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact? It’s a treaty between the Soviets and the Germans, not just promising to be allies but we think there’s a secret protocol to carve up Eastern Europe between them – Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Finland and Poland. So that puts an end to the hope that the Soviets would be on our side.’

‘Would they really have been good allies?’ Charlotte said doubtfully.

‘Better than having them as an enemy. Now Poland’s surrounded, Germany one side and the Reds the other. And if Hitler attacks Poland, we have to go to their aid.’

‘Do you think he will?’

He hesitated. ‘The New York Times reported German troop movements on the Polish border yesterday, but today it’s gone quiet. It’s possible that the Anglo-Polish pact has put the wind up him. But I wouldn’t depend on it. It’s a respite, that’s all – in my opinion.’

Charlotte was silent, staring at nothing, thinking about Milo scuttling off to Switzerland. Was it sensible, or cowardly? He’d said he would be doing war-work over there. Perhaps she should have given him the benefit of the doubt. But if war was coming, she wanted to be here, at home.

Basil, watching her face, said, ‘You’ll find your useful thing.’

She came out of her reverie. ‘A woman’s thing? Helping in a canteen? Serving tea and keeping up the morale of the troops?’

‘Someone has to do it,’ he said.

‘I was toying with the idea of the ATS.’

‘Toy by all means, but no more than that. You don’t want to be a typist or a driver. You’ve got brains.’

‘So have you. What’s your great contribution going to be?’

Basil thought back to earlier that day when he had been summoned to the editor’s office. It was a rare thing to see the great man face to face, and he racked his brain for any egregious misdemeanour he had committed recently. But though Comstock had been grave, he had not looked disapproving. He had come straight to the point. ‘Ah, Compton. I’ve had a communication about you from Lord Culbeath at the War Office.’

‘Yes, sir?’ Basil said, a little surprised.

‘We are old friends,’ Comstock explained, ‘and we’ve been working together for some time on various aspects of war planning. However, all you need to know is that you have a file in a special unit of the War Office. They know all about you there. When the National Service Act comes into force, you will receive a letter requiring you to present yourself to that special unit, but after that you will come back here and continue in your usual job at the Messenger. I have agreed with Culbeath that you will work here until they’re ready for you.’

‘When will that be, sir?’ Basil had found his mouth unexpectedly dry.

‘I have no idea. You will be told. In the meantime, the Messenger will provide cover for you. In the last war, men who were not in uniform were subjected to unpleasantness, and we don’t want that. You will mention none of this to anyone, of course.’

‘Of course, sir.’ The interview seemed to be over. ‘Thank you, sir,’ Basil had said, and left.

Now he said to Charlotte, ‘I’ll come when I’m called and go where I’m sent, just like everybody else.’

Polly had put a team of servants with brooms and buckets to clearing up the debris, among which they unearthed the Avro’s missing wheel. ‘I suppose they’ll want this back,’ she said.

‘Well, we don’t need it,’ said Lennie.

‘I don’t know. Alec might. I remember in the last war, boys collected war souvenirs like anything. This could be a real prize – no-one else would have one.’

Lennie smiled. ‘Give it back. It’s government property.’

‘They took my land. It’s a fair swap,’ Polly said.

Once the beam was lifted the statue of the Lady was found at once, and put into her hands. ‘It’s believed she’s much older than the house,’ she said to Lennie. ‘The wood’s as hard as stone. Look, she’s not even scratched.’ She held it reverently. ‘I’m so glad no harm came to her. I’ll put her on the main altar for now, until we can put her own altar back together.’

The sweepers had started on the debris that had been under the beam, and footman William found the chunk of marble that had broken off the sarcophagus, obviously along a natural fault in the stone. He handed it to Lennie, who said, ‘I’m pretty sure marble can be stuck back together. Ought to be quite easy.’

‘But the altar panelling will have to be completely replaced,’ Polly said. She knelt down to look more closely, put her fingers into the split and pulled. The whole front came away, spitting splinters and ancient dowels. ‘I never knew what it was made of, under the wood,’ she said. ‘I assumed it was a solid stone, but look – there’s a sort of recess at the bottom. Almost like a cupboard.’

‘Maybe it was meant as a cupboard originally,’ Lennie said. ‘Yes, look, aren’t those dowels hinges? A cupboard for putting altar things in – the cup and plate and so on.’

‘But I don’t think they would ever have used this altar for serving communion,’ Polly said. ‘It’s too small.’ She bent her head sideways to look into the recess. ‘There’s something in there, though. I can see it, right at the back.’

She got down even lower, stretched in, felt around with her fingers, and finally drew out a small object, a metal box about six inches square and three deep. ‘It’s really heavy,’ she said, standing up with it.