With apologies for the excruciatingly slow update...:)
Peter squinted for a moment thinking her request through, staring at one of Freddie's toys that was lingering on the carpet as his mind processed the information he had learned and equally, considering what she ought to know.
"Tell me please" Chummy implored him as she stood over him. "I'll understand better as at the moment after that, one has no idea what on earth one has to do". She sat down next to him with a thump utterly confused and desperately needing him to provide clarity. It was more than clear he knew more about this than he currently seemed to care to mention and she was determined to find out.
She had brought Isobel upstairs, the letter in hand and presented it to her husband. She saw his shoulders tightening as he read through each word and now, with Isobel back to her bedroom, they were alone to discuss the events of this last half an hour and discuss it they needed to do.
Peter knew she had to know it all this time and decided that he would have to dive in as this was far too close to home now. She had to know to protect herself and her friend.
"George Bolton" he began, carefully enunciating the syllables. "He was the one we were after the other night. Except according to one of the girls - Ginny - she's his favourite girl that he always goes to - we missed him by about ten or fifteen minutes. We've had people there but he just changed his time to visit", he said, watching her nod. 'Visiting' wasn't quite the right terminology but it had to do. "The raid was set up deliberately to get him and him alone. Anyone else happened to be a bonus" he concluded.
"What did he do?" Chummy asked tentatively. Peter almost didn't know where to start with that particular question and whilst he had told her story and after story all these years as it helped to get things off his chest, he knew he could not sanitise this one.
"There are three forces looking for him" he said, clasping his hands together. "Hampshire….Gloucestershire and us. This Bolton chap started off as a petty criminal – shoplifting, pick pocketing, nothing earth-shattering. A few months in prison here there and everywhere. Then as far as we know about two years ago came into the company of people with far more money than him no matter what he pinched and well…..there was a mutual arrangement to the benefit of a number where Bolton would supply drugs. He is a courier. I have no idea how Isobel's husband or Daniel are tied up in it. Except they are and Bolton…" He took a breath. "He is dangerous".
"How dangerous?" Chummy asked carefully. She wasn't soft enough to realise that the East End had its underbelly but she did not expect it to touch her privileged friends.
"Hampshire want him for an assault that left a fifteen year old lad with brain damage and Gloucestershire for a robbery where a woman was pistol whipped. There may be more" he concluded with a loud sigh. "Probably will be more. Potentially country-wide".
"Oh my lord!" Chummy exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth as her heart raced, it slowly sinking in just how much trouble her friend could be in. She felt quite sick with it all, wondering what was running through Isobel's mind and indeed how frightened she may be.
"I think I need to take Isobel and that letter down to the Station tomorrow…" Peter continued before he turned to face his wife properly. "And she is to go home after that. I don't want her here if she has some association with someone like that, even second or third hand…."
"But someone knows where she lives; to write that letter" Chummy responded. "If Philip is tied up in it all, they know where he lives too. She might be in danger if she goes home". Suddenly her friend's matrimonial problems seemed to pale into insignificance. "At least if she's here she's out of the way…."
Peter paused before he said anything else. Protective instincts for the safely of his wife and son aside, she actually had a point. Someone had written directly to her about her husband's associations so what would stop them turning up on her doorstep? "Alright but she still comes to the station with me tomorrow. She has no choice in the matter and subject to what she says, I'll decide if she stays or we make arrangements for her to go somewhere else." They had plenty of safe houses but somehow Peter really didn't think the refined Isobel would take to those two up two downs in Barking.
So the pair went, packed off in the car and with Freddie standing once again at the tall office window, Chummy was sure their young son must have felt the atmosphere. He had been oddly quiet all day; his mother wondering if he was coming down with something but without him running around like a lunatic, Chummy had had a rather productive day. If she was being honest with herself, she was also trying to keep as busy as she could to stop her mind wandering as to what was going on in Poplar. She daren't telephone the station to speak to Peter. She knew full well the Inspector frowned on personal telephone calls unless it was an emergency so she had to stop her hands wandering to the receiver and dialling that familiar number far too many times. She had even refrained when she knew he was on his breaks.
So, in an attempt to occupy herself, the girls records were now entirely up to date and Chummy was sitting at her desk writing (with a weight in her chest) yet another begging letter to the Council. She glanced at the small brass clock on her desk and pressed her lips together as for a minute she watched the hands.
"Five past four" she sighed, putting her pen down and leaning back in her chair, hearing it creak under the strain. Peter was on days this week so he would be home in a couple of hours and hopefully, maybe, no definitely hopefully, with Isobel in tow.
"Mumma?" a curious voice came from behind her. Freddie, for some reason, had decided he wanted to sit and watch the world go by from a space on the floor behind her. He was between the glass and the net curtains, having crawled under there to sit. Chummy did wonder what he was looking at but he was quiet so she didn't complain.
"Yes handsome?" she asked, slightly distracted deciding to go back to the paperwork in front of her and finish this blasted letter.
"Man" Freddie replied, a finger pressed against the glass as he strained to look.
"Man?" Chummy responded absently, scrawling 'Sister Camilla Noakes' across the bottom.
"Man" Freddie repeated, still looking sideways. "At door".
Chummy turned in her seat and, just about able to see the front door from the floor to ceiling window, she pushed the nets aside and off from where they had landed on her son's head as he settled underneath some time ago. There was indeed someone standing there in the closing in evening fiddling with the inside pocket of his coat. Whoever it was had his back slightly to her so she couldn't really tell who it was. It certainly wasn't Peter fiddling for his keys.
"It is a man" Chummy responded curiously to her son. "But Mumma isn't expecting any visitors tonight. Only Daddy".
She saw the man straighten his camel coat with a sharp tug, hoping he had not seen the curtains move or the little boy watching the world go by. Hoping too he wouldn't turn around and see the pair staring at him. Chummy would have to admit that she was slightly unnerved at the appearance of this person uninvited. Perhaps he was just delivering something or needed directions, but no matter how much she tried to second guess, she saw him step forward and raise his hand to the door. She noticed he was wearing leather gloves and they looked expensive.
The moment the bell rang, Freddie was up and off and faster than a speeding bullet had made it to the front door before Chummy had a moment to think. She was going to have put a stop to him running off and answering the door all the time. It was bad enough that he would answer the telephone, but at least now he was saying 'Aston Lodge' rather than that deathly silence that he used to do; not even a 'hello'.
This time, with the Lodge door unlocked for Peter, Freddie had managed to open it and was looking up at their visitor. The visitor was rather befuddled at finding a miniature blonde haired butler open the door and hesitated before speaking.
"One is so sorry!" Chummy said, rushing towards them both across the hallway. "He slips away and has a fascination with opening the…." She looked up and her heart dropped. "Door", she finished.
The man tipped his hat, taking it off and smiled. She hadn't changed one iota. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he replied, feeling somewhat anxious himself at having to make this journey in these circumstances. "Such a while, you'd agree?…."
Chummy felt Freddie take hold of the skirts of her uniform before she realised and picked him up, installing him on her hip. "It has" she replied, voice tight. "Been a while. It certainly has".
"I won't use the word friend" he continued. "But would you invite an old acquaintance in?"
