Chapter Text
Not once in his entire career had the whereabouts of his off-duty men interested him. He liked to know the movements of those under his command as much as the next officer, but for the Captain that was either ‘in’ or ‘out’. On Sunday afternoons their time was their own – they were ‘out’. For all he cared, they could canoe across the Channel, as long as they were back with time to spare before their status returned to ‘in’. That being said, he did wonder sometimes where his second in command disappeared to during his period of limited freedom. Of course, this was due only to him being higher in rank than the others, an integral cog in the mechanics of Button House XI. Not to mention being privy to many a state secret. Why, it was only natural to be curious as to the location of such a vital asset – heaven forbid anything happen; spies lurk in the most innocent of places, and would jump at the chance to prize the name of an operation from an unsuspecting lieutenant. That explained his curiosity perfectly – there was absolutely nothing else to it but that.
The Captain often found his excuses for these thoughts terribly tautological. He sat for an entire meal contemplating how very natural it was to be concerned. Purely professional, he told himself as he picked through the gristly bits in his lamb stew. Indisputably duty-driven, he said as he donned his cap, straightened his tie and stepped out onto the driveway, wedging the rain-swollen door closed behind him as covertly as his clumsy hands could manage. A responsibility of his to his Majesty the King, he reassured himself, waiting until the lieutenant had turned a corner, then quickly pursuing, pulling his collar up to ward off the chilly October gusts. Another twist in the driveway, and he waited again, peering round to see whether his target turned left or right at the gates.
It soon became clear that the Captain wouldn’t be making a quick trip into town as he had expected, because the lieutenant had instead made quick progress to the train station. The Captain pressed himself against the exterior wall of the building, the green gutter dripping water every now and again onto the shoulder of his coat, and he strained his ears to hear the conversation being had between his second in command and the ticket master. Yes please…ticket to Eu…tha…good evening. Perhaps if the CO had been twenty years younger, he could have picked up a little more of the conversation, but he had to work with what he had.
Once he was sure that the coast was clear, he himself approached the ticket master under the awning.
‘Good afternoon, sir. Where can I get you to today?’ asked the gentleman, his service smile showing slight signs of wear – no doubt the result of a long day repeating the same phrase time and time again.
‘I need a ticket to wherever the gentleman you last served is going,’ replied the Captain, ‘top priority, you see,’ he said, leaning in a little closer and gesturing to his shoulder straps identifying his rank.
The old ticket master’s eyes lit up, his interest piqued. ‘Of national importance, sir?’
‘Something like that,’ his customer said, tapping the side of his nose with a slight smile.
‘Well, in that case sir, the gentleman with the rucksack has just bought a ticket for Euston – in fact, that’s his train coming up just now.’ He gestured to the engine chugging rhythmically towards them.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement come from inside the building, no doubt his lieutenant preparing to embark on his journey. ‘Yes, a ticket to Euston, then. Quick as you please,’ he requested, a hint of urgency in his voice. He mustn’t be seen.
With a ticket in his hand he darted away from view, back to his wall. The train shuddered to a halt and a handful of people disembarked. He spied the lieutenant hop up into the second carriage, so he lunged forward for the door to the third. Once safely inside, he found himself a seat from which he could open the window and view the second carriage, just in case. What was he going to Euston for? Strange indeed. The Captain settled himself against the high backed seat and checked the time on the big clock on the platform. It would likely be getting dark by the time they arrived in London, which would simultaneously help and hinder him in his endeavours. As Hemel Hempstead dissolved into fields, another thought entered his mind – what on earth was the lieutenant doing with a rucksack like that?