An Unlikely Spy

by Terry Deary

  Aimee nodded silently.

  Major Ellis tapped the table with his finger. ‘She helped your father escape at the same time as they were both being chased by Silver Hand and his partner.’

  ‘Silver Hand?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘We called him that because he had a false metal hand,’ the major explained. ‘Your mother risked her life several times, helped the British army to win the war and saved your father from a prison camp or worse.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you helped the British win the war, Maman,’ Brigit said, cross and accusing.

  Aimee Furst closed her eyes. ‘I was machine-gunned by a German aeroplane, your father and I were trapped in a church tower and chased by a tank. I was pursued for miles by German soldiers and saw my lovely town in smoking ruins. I passed through stinking trenches and wasted woodlands.’

  ‘So brave and so young,’ Major Ellis muttered but Aimee’s mind was still in the world of over twenty years ago.

  ‘We were hiding down a well when the spies found us and pointed a gun to our heads. It took a brave old Frenchman to save us in the end. They were days of horror and hunger, terror and terrible sights. We saw so much death and we were close to death so many times – times when we were quite sure we were going to die.’

  ‘Dad saved you?’ Brigit asked.

  Aimee nodded but Major Ellis cut in. ‘It wasn’t that simple. Your maman saved Marius just as many times as he saved her. And he was an enemy. She could have left him to die, but she didn’t. Saving your enemy takes a far greater person than the one who simply saves a friend.’

  Aimee shook her head to clear it of the memories. ‘I still have nightmares about it. Twenty years ago, and I’m still haunted by the man with the silver hand. I didn’t want to share those dreadful days with you, my love.’

  Brigit nodded. ‘But you were a hero. You and Dad. You should have got a medal.’

  Aimee shrugged. ‘It wasn’t that important. We all did what we could to help France win the war. Your grand-maman Colette was as brave as me. She was part of a group called the White Lady that carried secret messages to the British about the German army. If she’d been caught, they’d have shot her. We all did what we could,’ she said, avoiding her daughter’s stern gaze.* Major Ellis smiled gently.

  ‘So, Major, why are you here?’ Aimee asked.

  ‘Because we need your help… again.’

  ‘Help? Help Britain?’ Brigit said, angry now. ‘When you’ve just taken Dad away and locked him up? And his only crime is having been born in Germany? Why would Maman want to help you?’

  Major Ellis raised his hands as if faced by a raging tigress. ‘Marius’s arrest was nothing to do with me. This is the first day of the war. The whole country is in chaos. We have to follow the plans we’ve had for five years… and interning German-born people is just part of that plan.’

  ‘But Marius hates the Nazis,’ Aimee said. ‘You heard me tell that to the sergeant. He left Germany as soon as Herr Hitler started to preach his hatred. He came to France, he married me, and we moved to Britain. Brigit has grown up here. He doesn’t want to see Germany invade and march into Castle Bromwich. In fact, he’s just the sort of person the Germans would execute if they ever landed.’

  Again, Major Ellis raised his hands. ‘We know, Aimee, we know. And I will make sure he’s released as soon as the storms of war have died down. I’ll talk to Mr Churchill himself, if I have to. It may take a month or so, but he’ll be free, I promise.’

  ‘You know Mr Churchill?’ Brigit asked quietly. ‘They say he’ll be Prime Minister before the end of the year.’

  Major Ellis nodded. ‘It is likely. But he has been planning for this war for years. He has a top-secret plan that’s going into action right now. And you, Aimee, are one of the first people we want for his new team.’

  Aimee blinked. ‘Mr Churchill knows about me?’

  Major Ellis blew out his cheeks. ‘Of course he does. You are a hero for what you did in the last war. You didn’t get medals and reports in the newspapers, but the people in power know what you did back then and they need your help again.’

  ‘Because she was so brave in the Great War?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘No, because she is French,’ the officer said with a faint smile.

  * You can read about Aimee’s adventures in the First World War in The Silver Hand.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘We need a new way of fighting them’

  Major Ellis looked at Brigit. ‘Young lady, what I have to say to your maman is so secret I can’t really share it with you. Would you be able to go somewhere else for half an hour? Maybe pack a case for your evacuation?’

  ‘No,’ Brigit said flatly. ‘I don’t want to be evacuated and I want to know what you’re asking Maman to do.’

  The major’s mouth opened but he struggled to find words.

  ‘Brigit, you can’t speak like that to the major,’ Aimee sighed.

  ‘You always told me to stand up for myself…’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘And say what I think.’

  ‘Yes, I meant…’

  ‘And not to let anyone make me do what I don’t want to do. You said that’s what made you grow up strong and I should be like you.’

  The major shrugged. ‘She sounds like a girl I knew back in France in 1918,’ he said. ‘Stay, Brigit. But only if you promise never to breathe a word of what you hear.’

  ‘I swear on Billy Anderson’s life,’ she promised.

  ‘Who’s Billy Anderson?’

  ‘The boy who threw a brick through our window,’ Brigit said with her sweetest smile.

  ‘Behave, Brigit,’ Aimee murmured then turned to Major Ellis. ‘I trust her. What can I do for you?’

  The major poured himself another cup of tea. ‘It’s a shame you don’t have any milk,’ he said.

  ‘No. The milkman has stopped delivering to us. I think it’s because Marius is German.’

  The major looked at her sharply. ‘Broken windows and tradesmen refusing to serve you? It sounds as if it would be good for you to get away from Castle Bromwich.’

  ‘Probably,’ agreed Aimee.

  ‘I am no longer in the army… though I still call myself a major. Ten years ago, I joined the British SIS… the Secret Intelligence Service.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it,’ said Aimee.

  Brigit rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the whole point, Maman. It’s secret.’

  Her mother blushed a little and muttered, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘We are spies. We’ve been finding out the enemy’s secrets: their new weapons, the factories where they make their weapons and where their important bridges and power stations and railway links are. The idea was that if the war came…’

  ‘Which it has,’ Brigit put in.

  ‘Which it has… then the Royal Air Force would know where to drop our bombs.’

  ‘You’ve had spies finding all this out and sending it back to Britain?’ Aimee asked.

  ‘We have – and it was dangerous work. If they’d been caught – even before we went to war – the Nazi secret police, the Gestapo, would have arrested them and they’d never have been seen again. No trial, just torture then execution.’

  ‘I don’t see why the SIS needs me,’ Aimee said softly.

  ‘Ah, that’s because Germany has blitzed Poland and our spies have told us they will head south to invade France next. We’re pretty sure the French army isn’t strong enough to stop them. The German army will march in and take over.’

  ‘Like they did in the last war?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘Exactly. We’ll send our soldiers across the English Channel to help the French, of course, but Mr Hitler has spent ten years building up a terrible force of armies attacking with tanks and bombers. We need a new way of fighting them.’

  ‘Like the White Lady secret agents Grand-maman Colette worked with?’ Brigit asked.

  Major Ellis nodded. ‘The White Lady told us where the German armies were and
how strong they were. We want a new group to do more.’ Brigit and her mother stayed silent, waiting. ‘We want a secret army of French people to fight the invaders from the inside.’

  Aimee shook her head. ‘The White Lady spied, but we weren’t an army. We couldn’t pick up guns and fight the German tanks and dive-bombers. We wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.’

  ‘No one would ask the secret army to fight in that way. But if the Germans want telephone lines, the secret army can cut the wires. The enemy can guard every telegraph pole if they like – millions of them – but then they won’t have enough men left to fight the war. The secret army would be ordinary French men and women, working during the day and turning to sabotage at night. We will provide the weapons, the explosives, the wireless sets and the leaders they need. They will be proud to fight for their country against the invaders.’

  Aimee took a deep breath. ‘And you want me to be one of the leaders? You want me to go back to France and wreck the German war machine?’

  Major Ellis nodded.

  ‘Why pick Maman?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘If we drop a British agent into France, the French may not like it. They are a proud people. And the agent may give themselves away because they don’t speak perfect French. Your mother knows the area around Bray as well as anyone. Your grandmother still lives there.’

  Brigit gave a slight smile. ‘When do we start?’

  The adults looked at her. ‘You will be evacuated to Wales, Brigit. There will be no one here to look after you.’

  ‘Maman can look after me when we go to France. My French-speaking is perfect too. And no Gestapo men will suspect a woman with a daughter.’

  The major blew out his cheeks again. ‘Your mother’s not going to France straightaway. She needs to spend the coming months training. How to fight with just her fists or maybe a knife. She needs to learn how to work the radios, to send us messages in code, to plant bombs and learn all the tricks of our top spies. Sorry, Brigit, Mr Churchill says the SOE won’t be ready to start till enough of them have been trained, even if the Germans invade France tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s the SOE?’

  ‘The Special Operations Executive… his name for the secret army.’

  Brigit gave a single nod. ‘Okay. But if I let myself get evacuated to Wales, will you promise to let me see Maman before she goes?’

  Major Ellis was silent for a long while. ‘I shall do my best. I can do no more.’ He spoke briskly. ‘Now, Brigit, you must prepare for evacuation. And Aimee, get ready to go to the secret SOE training camp.’

  ‘Where are you sending her?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘It’s a secret,’ the major replied with a grin.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘She wants me to tell them you’re my sister’

  Monday, 4 September 1939: Castle Bromwich, England

  The line of schoolchildren wound its way towards the railway station with a lot of noise. Teachers snapped at their pupils to stay off the road and to stop snivelling. ‘Think of it as a great adventure,’ a red-eyed Miss Dennison said. ‘How many of you have been to the countryside before?’

  About a quarter of the children raised their hands. ‘And how many of you have been to Wales?’ Most of the hands dropped. ‘It’s famous for its sheep.’

  ‘Please, miss,’ John Archbold said. ‘Last term you said it was famous for its dragons and you told us the story of the dragon that kidnapped a princess and chained it to a rock.’

  ‘A dragon is not going to mistake you for a princess, Archbold.’

  ‘No, but that was just a trick by the dragon. It wanted the princess’s dad to send a common boy or girl for it to eat every day or it would eat the princess, so the king did and we’re common and…’

  ‘Archbold, if you had listened to the end of the story you’d have known the dragon was killed by Saint George and he set the princess free.’

  ‘Yes, miss, but there must be other dragons. I mean he can’t have been the only dragon in Wales.’

  Miss Dennison’s face turned as purple-pink as her peppered eyes. ‘Archbold. There. Are. No. Child-eating. Dragons. In. Wales. Only sheep.’

  ‘What about if the dragons eat all the sheep? They’ll come after us then,’ John Archbold said, and a shiver of fear ran down the line.

  ‘Enough about dragons,’ Miss Dennison roared. ‘You will walk in silence from now on.’

  But the teacher couldn’t order the parents to be silent. A few had come with their children to wave them goodbye.

  The wise parents told their children how much fun they would have. The foolish parents sobbed and told their sons and daughters how much they would miss them and that set their children off crying.

  Brigit Furst had no parent with her. Her dad was in the camp that had been quickly built on the Hodgehill golf course and her maman was already on a train that was heading to the SOE training camp.

  As the snaking line of pupils reached the road past Castle Bromwich Hall, a line of children from Hodgehill School joined them. The road took a long loop around the great gardens of the hall. Army lorries were smoking and roaring along the road then turning into the gardens. ‘More dangerous than a smoking roaring dragon,’ Brigit thought.

  ‘They’re using the hall as a store now that old Lady Ida’s dead,’ Billy Anderson said. ‘The place’ll be full of stuff. If I wasn’t being evacuated I bet I could rob the place and make a fortune.’

  ‘I bet you could,’ Brigit said. ‘Wouldn’t help us win the war, though.’

  ‘No. Maybe not. But it’d help me and Mum get through,’ Billy argued.

  They walked on and the pupils from the other school began to mingle. Suddenly Brigit almost stumbled over a girl who’d stopped to tie her shoelaces. The girl looked up. ‘Brigit,’ she said.

  ‘Jessie?’

  ‘I have to speak to you. In secret,’ the thin girl squeaked. The two dropped back in the line till there was no one near them.

  ‘Listen, Brigit, Gladys Turnbull has a plot to get you.’

  ‘She’s had a plot to get me ever since I came to Castle Bromwich,’ Brigit said. ‘But I’m still here. I’m not scared of her.’

  ‘I know. But she can make your life really nasty when we get excavated.’

  ‘Evacuated.’

  ‘Yes, that an’ all. She wants me to stick with you. When we get to the other end there’ll be people there to give us a home. She wants me to tell them you’re my sister and we want to be kept together. In the same house, like.’

  ‘We have different names. I’m Furst and you’re Burdess.’

  ‘Gladys has thought of that. She says I’m to say we’re step-sisters – same mum, different dad.’

  ‘And how will that help her plot to get me?’

  ‘She won’t,’ Jessie moaned. ‘I’ll be the one to do it.’

  Brigit blinked. ‘Thanks for warning me. But how?’

  ‘Listen. These people that give us homes think us city kids are dirty and full of fleas and never take a bath and don’t know what a toilet is. They think we’re so mucky we wet the bed… and they won’t have that. They make bed-wetters sleep on the floor, Gladys says.’

  ‘But I don’t wet the bed,’ Brigit said with a puzzled smile.

  ‘That’s why I have to take a cup of water and pour it on your sheets.’

  ‘Why is it a problem? You just don’t do it.’

  The thin girl moaned. ‘Because we’ll all end up in the same school, probably. If I don’t get you in our new house, then Gladys says she’ll get me in the classroom. At break. She’ll take scissors and cut off my hair. She’ll twist my arm till I can’t write. She’ll jam my head through railings and leave me to starve to death. It’s all part of her wicked plan.’

  Brigit shook her head. ‘If Gladys can make plans, then so can I. Don’t worry, Jessie, you won’t have to wet my bed.’

  Jessie gave a scared grin. ‘I knew you’d think of something.’

  Brigit wrapped an arm round the thin
girl’s shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘Thanks for telling me, Jess. It took a lot of courage. Now, this is what we’re going to do.’ She whispered in Jessie’s ear and the girl nodded.

  They hurried on and joined the back of the Hodgehill School line.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘The early worm catches the train’

  The pupils reached the bridge over the River Tame and looked across the water. The old rubber factory stood prison-grey and ugly to their left. Ahead the aeroplane factory was swarming with workers like ants. The bomb shelters for the workers, in fresh red brick, stood out.

  To their right the new Castle Bromwich airfield was being finished with smart tarmac runways and hangars. An orange wind sock showed there was a breeze from the south-west.

  A fighter plane with curved wings was pulled out of a hangar by the air crew and the propeller blade stuttered into action then whirred and roared.

  The pupils and the teachers and parents stopped to watch as it trundled down the runway to the far end. It turned so the nose was facing into the breeze and rolled ever faster towards the river side of the airfield. It leaped into the air, over the heads of the evacuees and its wheels were tucked up into its wings.

  The children cheered and waved their hats and caps. Someone said the pilot waved back. An excited Hodgehill boy told Brigit, ‘They’re going to use this airfield to test the Spitfires from the factory before they set out to fight the war in the air.’

  His teacher, an older woman with grey hair set in fixed waves, spoke sharply. ‘Quiet, Fred. You never know who may be listening. If the Germans find out this is one of our Spitfire factories they’ll bomb it. Careless talk costs lives.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss South,’ Fred muttered, blushing.

  The teacher’s lined face softened. ‘Don’t worry, Fred, I don’t think there are any Germans within a thousand miles of here. Just be careful in future.’

  A girl with spectacles that were two perfect circles shuffled close to Brigit. She wore a fawn coat over her white blouse and grey skirt, white knee socks and black shoes. The Hodgehill uniforms looked just like Brigit’s and she was sure her plan would work.