30th May, Early morning: A morning as any other

Davy's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He hadn't heard the name Palmer before, when Pye was telling him about his friends. And now that Palmer brought up Lucy, his suspicions were roused further. His lips thinned out and he didn't answer.

Not until Cotton spoke up and identified himself, and then a little of the sullen look went out of Davy's expression. "Ye're Cotton?" he repeated. That was the man who had always been at the top of Pye's list. Cotton, and Newbury, and a few others. But always Cotton first. Davy's hands relaxed on the jacket a little, though he was still not willing to hand it over. "Ah took Zack's jacke' te give i' te wor Lucy," he muttered. "Ah was gan te hev her fix i' fer him."

He looked up sharply at Cotton. Davy was still not sure just how much it was safe to tell Cotton; even if Pye trusted him, Davy didn't know what his friend would want him to know. Maybe Pye would be in trouble for fighting. "He divvent break wor nose," he added defiantly. "Wha' ye gan te de when ye find him?"

"I didn't think he did," Cotton said, mystified as to why the lad should open up simply because of what his name was, but he wasn't going to turn his nose up at the opportunity offered. "You're goin' to take his jacket to Lucy to mend? That's real nice of you." He smiled amicably at the boy. "Well, we want to talk with him, help him if'n he'm hurt, get brekuss. Though, the longer we'm out here without findin' him, the more likely it is he'll get in trouble with our officer, an' we don't want that at all. So if you could help us find him, you'd be helpin' him too. An' there'd be tea an' brekuss for all of us, then."

He hoped the offer of food would help thaw the boy out towards them, even just a little.

Mayden was studying the jacket as best he could from where he was standing, a light frown on his face.

"How'd his jacket get to be tore up like that, d'you know?"

Davy's eyes were still wary. Pye had said Cotton was a good sort, but he didn't know who any of these others were, he didn't like the Germans at all, and whatever he said might get his friend in worse trouble than he already was. "Ah divvent knaa hoo i' happened," he said. That couldn't possibly hurt, could it? He didn't know exactly, anyway. They could ask Pye about that when he came back. "When Ah go' i' Zack was arready gan awa'," he added. That was true, too. By the time he thought of grabbing the coat Pye had scarpered.

"Ah divvent want te tyek ye where Ah found i' nither," he added. This couldn't hurt to say. "There's a sarge frem wor regiment there, frem 33rd, an' he's a bad ane." He didn't name Hakeswill, it didn't seem wise to do that. "Ah'm no' gannin' back there fer breffist or nowt else. Ah'm no' lettin' Ha - Ah'm no' lettin' him ge' hands on us, he'll think as Ah stole this or sommat."

Palmer gave Cotton a dark look. "Was it him who done for your nose, that sergeant?"

Hakeswill. Mayden's expression hardened.

"What's that bastard doin' within spittin' distance of a Rifleman?" He wanted to know, one hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sheathed sword-bayonet.

Davy's face closed off. "I' weren't him," he said shortly. "He divvent ge' Zack fer nowt, nither!" he added, sharply. "Zack divnae de nowt wrang."

"A sergeant of the 33rd?" Cotton's expression darkened. "Hakeswill. I'll bet me last farthin's it's that bastard. An' it weren't him that done for Zack, but someone else? We have to find him, lad. Would you... D'you know where he went off to?"

Things were looking worse and worse for Pye, now, if he had two equally nasty bastards out for him - though Cotton couldn't imagine who the second one was. Oh. Oh, hell. Yes, he could, at that.

Davy bit his tongue at the mention of the name; he didn't say anything, but he knew right after that, the look on his face had probably given him away. He didn't know what to say, now. He stared at the ground for a moment before he looked back up at Cotton.

"Zack's no' been fightin'," he said defensively. "He's no'."

"Even if he ain't," Mayden bit out, "it ain't nothin' good havin' Hakeswill anyplace nearby him."

They didn't seem to think well of Hakeswill either...and maybe they really were Pye's friends, and just wanted to look after him. He could lead them back to Hakeswill, and maybe that would get Starling off somehow. But then Starling might go and open his mouth about what had been going on with Pye. Davy had no idea if that would be trouble for the rifleman or not.

"He buggered off afore...the sarge could ge' him," Davy said firmly. He shouldn't confirm that it was Hakeswill, probably. "Zack's clivvor, he knaas wha's wha'."

"If it weren't the sarge what did your nose for you, then who was it?" Palmer asked again. "And who tore up Pye's coat for him? We found his rifle left behind in the stream. Why would he leave it behind, and his jacket? If we don't find him, it'll look like he's run. Deserted. And that's big trouble."

"Which way did he go?" Cotton asked urgently. "We've got to find him afore anyone else does, lad."

Davy's face darkened with anger. "Zack wouldn't run awa' an' leave me an' Luce or any else," he said to Palmer, glaring. "He divnae desert." He didn't answer as to which way Pye had gone...he didn't know.

This was stupid.

"So he ain't deserted," Mayden cut in. "Where was you when you found his jacket?"

"Ah divvent knaa weor he went," Davy said truthfully, and then buttoned his lip. He was not saying any more.

Cotton didn't think Pye had deserted, either; he hadn't seemed the sort of lad who'd do a thing like that. He'd seemed to look up to the Captain and to want the good opinion of the other Riflemen too much for desertion to even be an option.

"We'll jus' have to keep lookin', then," he said, and looked at the lad. "Would he... d'you think he might've gone to see anyone in the 33rd, if he didn't want to speak to us, if he thought he was goin' to be in trouble with us, like?" It was the only other thing Cotton could think of.

"He could hev gan te see wor Lucy," Davy answered slowly, "or Johnny Wilton." They should have known that anyway, if they'd heard about him and Lucy, which Palmer seemed to have.

Cotton blinked. The lad's accent was thick, very thick, and it took a moment before he could untangle the words and make sense of them. "Johnny Wilton... I know he've bin back to the 33rd to see him, an' Lucy. Mebbe he has gone there, at that." He hoped so; he really did not want to think about the alternative. Whatever that alternative was.

Mayden rolled his eyes. He hadn't asked where Pye had gone, dammit.

"Where was you when you found his jacket?" He repeated. They were wasting time with this boy, really they were. Should be forming a search line, before the call to form companies was made.

Cotton looked around at the gathered Riflemen. Who could he ask to go and enquire with the 33rd to see if Pye had gone back there?

Though... it'd be mighty strange of him to have headed anywhere without his jacket; he'd been so proud of it!

"His jacket is in tatters." Weber thought aloud. "He's been too proud of it to want to see himself without it." Or better. "He could have considered it something bad to appear in our camp without it. Simple as that. He might have gone to the 33rd if he believed he would both find a place to retire as... not have us see the damage he'd done to his uniform."

But there was something wrong there. The coat was indeed left behind. Davy took is. Or did the new rifleman agree that he does. But this woman could certainly not have mended the jacket in the short time that they had till they were to begin with the march. "At best we could ask if they know where he would have gone." He relented. "Even if he's probably not with them. They knew him longer n' we. They might know something we don't." He gazed at Davy. He felt the boy would refuse to lead them to the spot where he had found the coat, but less so, to accompany them to the 33rd.

"But he wouldn't leave his jacket!" Palmer finally yelled in exasperation. "Just tell us where you found it!"

"Ah divvent knaa," Davy lied. "Ah scarpered as fast Ah could an' Ah divvent knaa which way as Ah was gannin'."

Palmer threw up his hands in disgust. "Well where was you headed before you found it? Were you coming to see Pye? Heading back to your own camp?" If the boy had not already acquired a bloody nose, Palmer would have been tempted to give him one now.