Chapter 19

“I heard about that. One woman can make things difficult for the rest of us females. I still think she probably has a mental problem which manifests as temper tantrums. I do believe he should not be put off marrying you, Phemie. The others would not be here without you snaffling him first. They should grant you the formality, and simply be the second and third wives in practice. You all deserve some happiness, it appears to me as an outsider.”

Phemie came over and gave Elizabeth a big hug. “Elizabeth, I already don’t see you as an outsider. You fit in so well with us all. Regard yourself as at home with us, dear.”

Fiona and Theresa chimed in with their approval, saying that Phemie had it right. I stayed out of it, wisely. Elizabeth turned to look at me again, and asked, “What have you been saying about me, Aled?”

I spread my hands. “Nothing, Elizabeth. This is all your own doing. You have been yourself with us, and the girls like you; that’s all.”

Theresa came out with, “It’s true, miss. You are a nice lady, and it shows. I would have loved to have a sister like you.”

“You don’t have a sister, Theresa?” Elizabeth asked her.

“No, miss. I was an only child and my parents are dead, so I was on my own when Alec rescued me from school bullies. He was so forceful, so decisive!”

“Definitely officer material, Theresa. My husband was a junior officer, and it showed in his demeanour. I am just a lowly sergeant.”

Fiona gasped, “You are a sergeant, Elizabeth? That is a great achievement for a girl in a man’s world. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I agree, Fiona. She has a lot to be proud of. My boss thinks the world of her, but he thinks she takes too many risks.”

Elizabeth waved this off, saying, “I was just working off my upset at losing my own lovely man.”

I wagged my finger at her. “that is not a reason to take unnecessary risks, Elizabeth. Henry would not approve of you wasting your life; now would he?”

She glared at me and her fists balled up tight, but she said nothing. Phemie observed this and added her bit, “Alec is quite right, dear. Taking risks is not a good way to keep your man in memory. You have to show that you are worthy of his sacrifice. Think it over, girl. History is not made by wasting your life, is it?”

Elizabeth took in Phemie’s words, and this time pondered them.

At last she spoke, with a catch in her voice, “Phemie, losing a close relative is never easy, but Theresa told me that she managed to cope, so I will try to follow her example, for she is wise beyond her years. Thank you, Theresa.”

Theresa, tears in her own eyes, rushed to Elizabeth and gave her one of her regular hugs. That was all, but it got Elizabeth crying and they cried together. I did not know what to do, and it must have shown, for Phemie signed to me with her hands, to stay out of it, so I subsided and left to make coffee for all of us. A cup of tea or coffee always helps, I find.

By the time I got back with a tray of mugs, sugar and milk, things had settled down and all the ladies were seated near each other. Phemie was holding Elizabeth’s hands, and there was only a sniffle in evidence. I announced, “Coffee will be ready shortly, for all who want it.”

My words were greeted with a few smiles of appreciation, and multiple hands were raised, “Yes, please.” so I returned to the kitchen to complete the filling of the coffee pot with boiling water over the ground coffee holder. The day continued in that vein, and apart from overnight, I left the ladies to chat while I attended to other matters. Bed was back to our normal rotation, but I was disturbed at how often Elizabeth’s name came up in conversation. It was almost like hero worship, for she had been telling them things she had been getting up to in her work. It appeared she did not regard her duties as secret in the way my tasks for Smith had always been regarded, or else he had avoided female operatives being exposed to dangerous work. I had my view that it was the latter up until recently, when she had started volunteering for dangerous missions.

She certainly settled in with my girls, and began visiting the Academy as a voluntary security advisor supposedly on my recommendation. I had my own opinion as to why she was taken away from me; to keep us from getting too close. Nice woman though she was, I didn’t think of her that way.

Several days after he left me, Charles Grey got back in touch, to ask about his commission on art recovery or sales.

“What I was assuming, Mr Jones, was that a figure of between eight and ten per cent might be acceptable to you.”

“Perhaps so. Please explain a bit farther, Charles.”

“The way I see it, sir, any reward for recovery of stolen art would merit eight per cent, as it is a simple transaction. Obtaining a good sale price for originals means more work for me, negotiating with interested galleries pr private parties. It also involves more of my expertise in the art world, so a ten per cent commission appears to me to be deserved. How do you see it?”

“I go along with you one hundred per cent, Charles. Your reasoning is justified, as is your percentages, so go ahead on that basis. For me, it is all profit, so I think you merit your cut.”

“Thank you, Mister Jones. The statuettes, more abstract than figurative, were by Italian sculptor Umberto Mastroianni. They were made in gold in the mid-fifties but the ones in the attic were disguised by a layer of grey paint to make them seem to be less valuable pewter objects, probably for smuggling into this country. I recognised the style but had to prove that they were the original gold artefacts. The price we settle on with the insurers will reflect the material and the sculptor’s fame. There may be a figure posted at the time of the theft, but I am not sure.”

“Fine by me, Charles. I presume the other works will take more time to sell?”

“Most definitely. The time will be variable depending on demand for the works and the number of interested parties and their financial resources at this time. I will keep you apprised of progress.”

“Thank you, Mister Grey. I shall look forward to giving you my bank account for the deposit of the proceeds after your commission.”

It was only after closing my phone that I thought of Smith as a possible partner in the proceeds, so I rang him and explained what had happened between Grey and myself.

He laughed, “Just what I expected from you, Jones. You have a conscience, which is why you don’t like killing without justification. In this case, I spoke to Grey in advance of employing him, and told him I didn’t need a cut of the proceeds. He was free to negotiate a deal with you, and it would stand. It cost me nothing, for I used an art collector who owed me, and he paid for Grey’s initial examination of the artwork: keeps me out of it. Any results that were profitable, was up to him and you to get what you could. And don’t worry about me demanding a share. Instead, I’ll demand your services at some time ahead. I am sure you are aware of that expectation.”

“I am, sir. I just wanted to be sure that I was not treading on your toes over the artworks. I don’t call it conscience, just the good behaviour of an officer and gentleman.”

Smith chuckled, “Comes to the same thing, my boy: right thinking. Look after my female agent, will you?”

“Will do, sir. She is fitting in quite well with my ladies; surprisingly well. They are very sympathetic about her loss, and keep telling her it is not her fault. She is at least listening to them.”

“Excellent! Just what I was hoping for. I’ll keep in touch, but I have no plans for either of you in the immediate future. Keep that in mind, Jones.”

“Yes, sir. ‘Bye for now.”

I sat back and thought about this for a while. He doesn’t want a cut of the income from the artworks? He has no jobs planned for me or Elizabeth in the near future? Odd. Does that mean he has no work for any of his team? Or does it mean he is excluding us from such tasks to give us a break? Or do his present plans have no component that we could be best for?

Oh, well. I can live with that, and my girls will have me around more often. Thinking of which, what do a bunch of women find to talk about all the time? Of course, my girls have their work to do, so Elizabeth must be at a loose end during much of the day. How does she justify being around the school all the time, I wonder?

I learned more when Phemie told me that the Rector wanted me to call in and see him again. I asked why, and she explained that Elizabeth had apparently been talking to as many girls as she could, establishing which males were bullies.

“Great”, I replied. “Good for her. Does she report them to the school authorities?”

Phemie grimaced and said, “She tried that, but the Rector explained that the pupil being bullied had to report the event, and have witnesses willing to support her.”

I sighed, “Rules, rules, rules; always getting in the way of justice.”

“Not for Elizabeth, love. She spent another day identifying all the bullies, then confronted one of the younger ones out of the sight of teachers, and duffed him up, so that he went crying to the older bullies. He couldn’t very well go to any teacher, could he?”

“Quite so, Phemie; loss of face. So what happened next? I am presuming there was a next.”

It took until the next day, but word got around that all the bullies were going to gang up on her to teach her a lesson for interfering. It didn’t seem to occur to them that her duffing up a bully was a sign of what she was capable of. They were still thinking that she was just a woman, so vulnerable. Boy, were they wrong.”

“Great story, Phemie. Go on.”

“They had heard that she walked through the playground area at the end of the school day, so that was where it would happen. Elizabeth got some of the older girls to persuade teachers to be near the playground at the time, quote ‘as they heard that a bully was going to harass some girl’. That was what Elizabeth asked them to say, to keep it low key until the bullies started. Enough teachers decided to hang around and see what happened. There were many girls watching as well.”

“Sounds like Elizabeth was setting the scene. I hope she was not hurt.”

“Hurt? Let me tell you, darling, how she went about it. They gathered around her, taunting her, but she simply stood there, unfazed, until one of them took a swing at her. That was the trigger for what followed. Her assailant missed when she moved, but she didn’t. She kicked him in the groin, and he collapsed, howling in pain. The others decided they should support him, so they all started in on her. This was what she was waiting for, as she unleashed a barrage of karate kicks and I don’t know what else. In seconds there was a collection of injured bullies lying about, writhing in pain and howling. The last of them took to their heels and ran off rather than face Elizabeth.

At this point one of the teachers approached the battle site an asked Elizabeth what did she think she was doing.

Elizabeth looked him in the eye and stated in a loud voice so that everyone could hear, “Defending myself from bullies, sir; defending myself, no less. Did you not see the attack made on me?”

“Attack? One of them swung at you!”

“Yes, sir. If one of them swung at you, do you suggest you would not defend yourself? You would let them walk all over you and put you in hospital?”

“No, but look what you did to them!”

“Yes. That sometimes happens when you are defending yourself against superior numbers. You take every opportunity to defeat your attackers. Take Rorke’s Drift, for example. A small unit was attacked by a horde, and they defended themselves valiantly. Some won the Victoria Cross, I believe.”

“Umm...” the teacher was a Physics teacher and had little knowledge of the Rorke’s Drift historical clash. That is as may be, but he can’t have young people being hurt by adults.”

“Oh? But you imagine it is all right for bullies to threat and hurt younger pupils in this school? You approve of that behaviour?”

“No, of course not!” he blustered.

“Then why do you make it so difficult for the pupils to report the bullying, by having rules that make it almost impossible for justice to be done? So whose side is the school on, pray? The bullies or the victims?”

By this time, the girls and teachers who had been listening decided to speak, and they all supported Elizabeth. One of the teachers declared, “This lady is not a pupil or member of staff, so she can go to the media to report being attacked in this Academy! Do we want that to happen?”

By now, the Rector was striding over, demanding to be briefed on the excitement. Elizabeth stood silent while teachers and pupils all reported how the bullies had ganged up and her, taunted her, and then attacked. I was there, and said, ‘The playground is full of witnesses to the attack on this young woman, Rector. She is entitled to go to the Press and tell of this atrocious behaviour at the Academy, and then where are we then? No-one will want to send their children to this school if they know they are not safe from bullies... ‘ The Rector looked more closely at Elizabeth, and glanced at the bullies lying on the ground nearby. He asked, “Did you do this?”

Elizabeth candidly told him. ‘Yes. They attacked and I defended myself; that is all.”

“You were able to lay them all out, all by yourself?”

“No, not all of them. A few ran off rather than face me.”

“But how?”

“Training, sir: special forces. We are taught to defend ourselves by all possible means, but I refrained from killing these ones. Bad form to kill bullies, you see.”

By this time a few of the bullies were taking notice of their surroundings, and heard the comment about not killing them as it was bad form. That terrified them as they observed that their target was chatting amiably, and without a scratch. The Rector had another reaction.

“Bullies. I recall you came to me to ask about our anti-bullying procedures. You were not happy about the rules laid down.”

“Too true. I decided instead to let the bullies invite their own retribution. I waited until they decided to attack me, and when they did I had justification for fighting back. That is what I did, and they found that not all females are susceptible to bullying. I am prepared to offer an after-school self-protection class for the female pupils, Rector, but I am still of the opinion that your school rules need to be amended to protect the innocent rather than the guilty.”

“Your point is well made, madam. I shall instigate such a review immediately. I have to take your proposed self-protection class to the Parent-Teacher Council for scrutiny, but I suspect it will be greeted with some enthusiasm, particularly by parents of children who have been bullied in the past.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “She was not kidding when she said she could defend herself, Phemie.”

“So it would appear, Alec. You said something about her working for the same boss, so it should not be surprising that she has similar ... abilities ... shall we say? I do admire her selfless approach to justice. She was not making a name for herself; she was protecting the name of the school. I am not sure if she even gave the Rector her name afterwards. Like you, she is good at having a discussion without revealing her name. In fact...”

I interrupted her praise.

“All right. I’ll visit the Rector and see what he has to say about Elizabeth, and as for the similarity, it comes with the territory, my love,” I told Phemie. “At night, all cats are black.”

She eyed me disbelievingly. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, we both have had similar training and have developed a similar ethos, that is all, Phemie. We both see ourselves as protecting the civilian population in one way or another.”