The Complete Symphonies of Adolf Hitler by Reggie Oliver Read Free Book Online

out of her sitting room window. It was bent low so that its hands almost touched the ground. She could not see the face, only the back of its head on which wayward, uncombed grey hairs stuck out in all directions. It shambled across the front lawn, moving crookedly yet with some fluidity; then, instead of passing through the front gate, it scrambled awkwardly onto the low garden wall and wriggled through a gap in the privet hedge. Once behind the privet hedge Jane could no longer see it, but it must have passed along the other side of the wall, still crouched low, until it was out of sight from the house.
    Jane felt her heart beating fast. A detached part of her worried that what she had seen would give her a heart attack; and then what would become of mother? What had she seen? It must have been the Major, except that it did not quite look like him, and certainly the creature’s movements were not those of a ninety-year-old man.
    The thumping of Jane’s heart made her so breathless that she had to sit down on the bed. At some point after that she fainted. When she came to there was a hint of early morning in the sky. Jane listened for noise, but there was none. She went downstairs and into the sitting room. All windows were closed and bolted on the inside. She told herself that she had had a peculiarly vivid dream, but she lied.
    The following day a social worker called Lorna came. She asked a great many questions and wrote down the answers on a notepad attached to a clipboard. Jane thought that she had been interrogated rather aggressively, as if she was to be held responsible for the situation. After this Lorna insisted on interviewing the Strellbriggs alone.
    When Lorna came out of that meeting Jane saw confusion and shock on her face.
    ‘Did you get anything out of them?’ she asked.
    Lorna took her notes off the clipboard and placed them in a large straw bag. ‘Mrs Capel,’ she said. ‘I will have to go back and discuss the case with my colleagues. We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘Our guidelines are to respond to these situations as soon as possible, Mrs Capel.’
    ‘In the meanwhile what do we do about them? I have two strange, unwanted old people cluttering up my house. I’m perfectly within my rights to turn them out onto the street.’
    ‘I’m sure you don’t want to do anything like that, Mrs Capel.’
    ‘But what are you going to do about it?’
    ‘Now, Mrs Capel. We will be prioritising your dilemma here, but I have to review the situation, discuss the case with my colleagues. I do assure you, I will be getting back to you as soon as possible.’
    At that moment Jane hated Lorna, with her complacent professionalism, her fat, bespectacled face, her dreadful taste in jewellery, more than she had hated anyone since her schooldays. More than the Strellbriggs? Certainly. Jane found that she could no more hate them than she could the wind and the rain, or her poor crazed old mother. The white heat of her rage stifled all speech. She saw Lorna to the door in silence. Just before she left Lorna turned to Jane and, pointing to the sitting room where she had just interviewed the Strellbriggs, she said:
    ‘Mrs Capel, I have just been called a black bitch in there by that man. Now I don’t have to put up with that sort of thing. You won’t understand how much that hurts; but I tell you, I will do the best for you and your case, but I am not coming back into this house ever again.’ And with that, she left.
    Jane rang up her solicitor and arranged to see him the following morning.

    **

    Normally Jane would not have left her mother in the care of the Strellbriggs for more than an hour at most, but she was past caring. She had to go into central London to see Mr Blundell, whose firm had dealt with her family’s affairs for years. Mr Blundell listened to Jane’s story with enormous professional sympathy. Could she sue Mrs Wentworth-Farrow? Possibly, but the expense might be