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Authors: Daphne du Maurier
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Lieutenant Sherman. Emma felt her cheeks go red, and was furious with herself in consequence.
“Good day to you,” he said, smiling.
“Good day,” replied Emma, but it was not an expression she ever used and she felt a fool doing so.
“The officer has come to tell us that the state of emergency will be over tomorrow,” said Dottie, “and we shall all be free to come and go as we please. That’s a great relief, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Emma. “Does it mean we shall have our telephone working again and the boys can go back to school?”
Lieutenant Sherman stroked his chin. “Well now,” he replied, “as to your first question, yes, your telephone should be working normally from 6 a.m. onwards. As to the second… I fear I’ve not been briefed. But I rather think your schools will remain closed until next week.”
“What a nuisance,” said Emma. “It’s such a bind to keep them amused.”
Lieutenant Sherman smiled again. “You find it so?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have thought it. They seemed fully occupied to me.”
He winked at her, which was rather fun, she thought—though she hoped he was thinking of Joe and Terry in the shrubbery rather than Andy with his bow and arrows in the chimney. It was nice that he had a sense of humor, though actually it hadn’t exactly been apparent the other day when Ben uttered his first word—Ben hadn’t spoken since—but then the commanding officer had been present, and everyone was under strain, what with the P.M.’s announcement and having to eat Mad’s cake. Emma wished she could ask him to come in later for a drink, but Mad might not like it, or, if she did, then she might come and pour out the drinks herself and hog the conversation.
“We’ll be seeing you, then?” she said casually.
“I hope so,” he answered. “By the way, my name is Wallace Sherman, known to my friends as Wally. My respects to your grandmother. I hope she’s been able to rest these last days and we haven’t disturbed her.”
Disturbed her, you little know… She’s sharpening arrows this moment below in the basement. Emma watched the lieutenant return to the stable block with reluctance, but she was slightly put off by the name Wally. One couldn’t imagine saying to Mad, “I’m going out with Wally tonight…”
There was no question of Lieutenant Wallace Sherman coming in for drinks or offering Emma iron rations in the stables, because later that evening they heard continual coming and going between the main road and the stable yard. A couple of jeeps had now appeared on the scene, and the marines were evidently clearing up their equipment in preparation for moving off.
“Good job too,” said Terry, peering out of the kitchen window into the dusk. “We don’t want them hanging about here any longer.”
“They’ll not be going far,” said Joe quietly, “only down the bottom of the hill. Corporal Wagg told me there are two commando units in our district, and they’re taking over all of Poldrea sands and the docks as well. The sands are to be roped off, and they’re to requisition the bathing huts and caravans as living quarters.”
“But what the hell for?” exploded Terry. “That Lieutenant Sherman said the state of emergency would be over by tomorrow.”
“He didn’t tell me why,” replied Joe, “and I don’t for a moment suppose he knew.”
“It’s the Communists, depend upon it,” said Dottie. “I expect they’ll be parachuted down from Russian airplanes dressed as nuns, as they did in the last war.”
“I know what the Communists will do,” said Colin, who had suddenly emerged from the playroom where, so it appeared from the state of the wallpaper later, he had been teaching Ben to write. “They’ll swim in to Poldrea beach disguised as mermaids, lashing great rockets to their tails that are full of T.N.T. At least that’s what I would do, if I were a Communist.”
Ben, who was clinging to Colin’s hand as usual,
“Good day to you,” he said, smiling.
“Good day,” replied Emma, but it was not an expression she ever used and she felt a fool doing so.
“The officer has come to tell us that the state of emergency will be over tomorrow,” said Dottie, “and we shall all be free to come and go as we please. That’s a great relief, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Emma. “Does it mean we shall have our telephone working again and the boys can go back to school?”
Lieutenant Sherman stroked his chin. “Well now,” he replied, “as to your first question, yes, your telephone should be working normally from 6 a.m. onwards. As to the second… I fear I’ve not been briefed. But I rather think your schools will remain closed until next week.”
“What a nuisance,” said Emma. “It’s such a bind to keep them amused.”
Lieutenant Sherman smiled again. “You find it so?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have thought it. They seemed fully occupied to me.”
He winked at her, which was rather fun, she thought—though she hoped he was thinking of Joe and Terry in the shrubbery rather than Andy with his bow and arrows in the chimney. It was nice that he had a sense of humor, though actually it hadn’t exactly been apparent the other day when Ben uttered his first word—Ben hadn’t spoken since—but then the commanding officer had been present, and everyone was under strain, what with the P.M.’s announcement and having to eat Mad’s cake. Emma wished she could ask him to come in later for a drink, but Mad might not like it, or, if she did, then she might come and pour out the drinks herself and hog the conversation.
“We’ll be seeing you, then?” she said casually.
“I hope so,” he answered. “By the way, my name is Wallace Sherman, known to my friends as Wally. My respects to your grandmother. I hope she’s been able to rest these last days and we haven’t disturbed her.”
Disturbed her, you little know… She’s sharpening arrows this moment below in the basement. Emma watched the lieutenant return to the stable block with reluctance, but she was slightly put off by the name Wally. One couldn’t imagine saying to Mad, “I’m going out with Wally tonight…”
There was no question of Lieutenant Wallace Sherman coming in for drinks or offering Emma iron rations in the stables, because later that evening they heard continual coming and going between the main road and the stable yard. A couple of jeeps had now appeared on the scene, and the marines were evidently clearing up their equipment in preparation for moving off.
“Good job too,” said Terry, peering out of the kitchen window into the dusk. “We don’t want them hanging about here any longer.”
“They’ll not be going far,” said Joe quietly, “only down the bottom of the hill. Corporal Wagg told me there are two commando units in our district, and they’re taking over all of Poldrea sands and the docks as well. The sands are to be roped off, and they’re to requisition the bathing huts and caravans as living quarters.”
“But what the hell for?” exploded Terry. “That Lieutenant Sherman said the state of emergency would be over by tomorrow.”
“He didn’t tell me why,” replied Joe, “and I don’t for a moment suppose he knew.”
“It’s the Communists, depend upon it,” said Dottie. “I expect they’ll be parachuted down from Russian airplanes dressed as nuns, as they did in the last war.”
“I know what the Communists will do,” said Colin, who had suddenly emerged from the playroom where, so it appeared from the state of the wallpaper later, he had been teaching Ben to write. “They’ll swim in to Poldrea beach disguised as mermaids, lashing great rockets to their tails that are full of T.N.T. At least that’s what I would do, if I were a Communist.”
Ben, who was clinging to Colin’s hand as usual,
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