A Jewel in the Crown by David Lewis

Author:David Lewis [Lewis, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2024-04-11T00:00:00+00:00

21

Bodyguard Thompson was rightly proud of his handiwork and hoped Churchill would be too. He waited until nightfall to present it, because that was when his gift would be most effective.

“This is for you, Sir,” Thompson said. “A custom-crafted gift from me. I made it myself.”

Churchill peered at the gift and growled, “You do know that’s my own walking stick you’re holding, Thompson.”

“Yes, Sir, it is, but this is the gift part. See?” Thompson pointed to a leather holder fitted to the handle. “It holds a torch pointed toward the ground so you can see where you’re walking at night.”

Churchill took the stick and switched on the torch. “That’s damn clever of you.”

“Thank you, Sir. I checked, and its brightness is well within blackout regulations, and if you like”—Thompson clipped a filter over the torch lens—“you can have blue light, or red.”

“This will save lives, or at least your face,” Churchill said with an impish grin. They both remembered a recent blackout walk through St. James’s Park when it was so dark Thompson walked right into a tree and moments later saved Churchill from a similar fate. He wagged the stick at Thompson. “But you must never ever call it a gift. It’s a present.”

“Why not?”

“Because in German gift means poison.”

“Beware of Nazis bearing poisons?”

“Clever of you, Thompson, clever and unexpected. Shall we go out and test your present?”

“Now?” Thompson said, knowing it was a pointless question to ask because Churchill was already marching to the front door.

He would never get used to stepping out of the Annexe building into a darkened London. It felt as though the wounded city was holding its breath, hibernating to heal. This strange period would linger in his mind until he died. He would remember two things most of all: the barrage balloons swaying above their heads like so many creaking gray elephants, as if they were listening to you; and the sound of footsteps. In the absence of the usual city sounds of cars, buses, and lorries, footsteps could be heard clearly. And after a raid they would become a constant brittle crunching over shattered glass.

“We’ll cross Horse Guards, go up to Duck Island Cottage, and make a loop around the lake and back over the bridge,” Churchill said. “That will give your present a good tryout.”

They crossed Horse Guards Road, and Thompson was relieved that, so far, it seemed the Germans were taking the night off.

“Convoy SC7 lost twenty out of thirty-five ships to U-boats on the Western Approaches,” Churchill said. “They got all the way across the Atlantic and died in sight of home.”

“That is terrible.”

“It is a grievous loss of men and matériel. And that flying fool Lindbergh is making speeches everywhere attacking Roosevelt about wanting to drag the Americans into a European war. The Americans lack a tradition, a history essential for a nation’s foundation,” Churchill said and pointed his torch at Duck Island Cottage. “Even that little cottage is part of English history. There’s been a version of it there since the 1600s.

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