Ena exhaled with relief. She was about to go to Freda, tell her who the man was, when she saw him again. He was directly behind Freda, his face a scowl. Freda didn’t realise and kept walking. Ena opened her mouth to shout a warning, but she was too late. The man grabbed Freda from behind, putting his hand over her mouth. Ena watched her friend struggling, trying to fight the man off, but he was pulling her backwards, dragging her into his compartment.
Carrying the suitcase, Ena made her way along the corridor to the compartment where the spy, for that was what Commander Dalton had called him, had taken Freda. Craning her neck, her back as flat as she could make it against the nearside wall of the corridor, Ena looked through the window. The blinds were drawn, but not fully. Crouching, she could see the man’s back. He had pushed Freda up against the window. He had his arm around her neck and was talking into her face.
‘Freda?’ Ena shouted, sliding the door open with such force it crashed home, rattling the glass in the windows.
The man spun round, loosening his grip on Freda. She wriggled free. He lunged at Ena. ‘Be careful!’ Freda shouted, and put out her foot. The man tripped and Ena swung the case as high as she was able. It connected with his chin and he staggered backwards. As he fell, he caught his head on the brass ashtray attached to the window ledge and his head jerked.
Near hysterics, Ena watched his eyelashes flutter and his eyes roll back in their sockets. He let out a horrible rasping breath, closed his eyes, and slumped sideways, hitting his head again, this time on the floor. ‘Oh my God!’ Ena screamed, ‘What have I done?’
‘You’ve saved my life, Ena, that’s what you have done.’
‘Why isn’t he moving, Freda?’ Ena’s friend bent down and felt the man’s wrist for a pulse. She shook her head. ‘No!’ Ena screamed, again. ‘Please don’t say I’ve killed him. Please God, no!’
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Freda said, stepping over the man’s body. Staring at him, still gripping the case of work, Ena shook uncontrollably. ‘Ena, we’ve got to go. Now!’ Freda shouted, taking Ena by the shoulders. ‘Come on. Don’t look at him,’ she said, steering Ena out of the compartment.
In shock, but still clutching the case, Ena allowed Freda to push her along the corridor to their compartment. Inside, Freda took the case from her, put it by the window, and forced Ena to sit down. ‘Stay here and don’t move. Ena, are you listening?’ Ena looked up in shock and nodded. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘No! You can’t go. Please don’t leave me, Freda.’
‘I won’t be long. I’m going to check he’s all right, and have a quick look through his pockets, see if he has any ID on him.’ Freda knelt down and looked into Ena’s face. ‘Promise me you’ll stay here? Ena? Promise me.’ Ena nodded.
As Freda left, Ena heard the brakes grumble and felt the train slow down. Shaking, she gathered her handbag and gasmask, and hugged them to her. As the train pulled into Bletchley station, Freda returned. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, collecting her own handbag and gasmask.
Ena nodded, picked up the case of work, and followed her friend into the corridor. As they passed the end compartment, Ena saw the blinds were fully drawn. Freda had pulled them down to stop people from looking in. Ena thought she was going to be sick and gagged.
Freda armed Ena into the buffet, sat her down at the back of the room, and ordered two teas. ‘Drink this,’ she said, when the waitress brought their cups. ‘You’ll feel better.’
‘Was he all right?’ Ena whispered, ‘When you went back, I mean. Was he all right?’
‘Don’t worry about him. He won’t be hurting anyone again,’ Freda said, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be heard.
Tears rolled down Ena’s cheeks. ‘Are you saying that I-- Is he?’
‘I don’t know. I couldn’t find a pulse but I’m not a doctor. He might just be unconscious. I pulled him round and sat him up. He looked as if he was asleep. With a bit of luck, he won’t be found until Euston.’
‘With a bit of luck?’ Ena shook her head. ‘I’ve killed a man. I need to report it, tell the police. They’ll understand if we tell them he was attacking you, and he--’ Ena almost said, was the man who drugged me and stole my work last year, but she stopped in time. She hadn’t told Freda about the incident, Commander Dalton’s orders. But after what Freda had done for her today, Freda was the one person Ena knew she could trust.
‘Listen to me, Ena.’ Freda held Ena’s hands and waited until she had her attention. ‘It was as much my fault as yours. You lifted the case but it was me who tripped him up. I killed him as much as you did.’ Ena shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. ‘Think about it, if you hadn’t come into the compartment – hadn’t stopped him when you did – he might have killed me. Chin up,’ Freda said, with a sad smile, ‘We’re in this together.’
Commander Dalton sat behind his desk and listened without interrupting Ena and Freda’s account of what had happened on the train that day. When they had finished, he asked to speak to each of them separately. Ena asked why, when their account was the same. The commander said that sometimes going over something as important as this, on your own, you remembered things that you perhaps didn’t think of, or thought unimportant, when you were with someone else, listening to their account.
After asking Ena if she was happy to carry on without taking a break, Commander Dalton suggested Freda might like to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. His suggestion did not require her to answer. ‘Give us half an hour,’ he said. Freda looked at Ena, smiled supportively, and left.
Ena leant forward and braced herself for an interrogation but the commander picked up the telephone. ‘Get me Sir James Hillingborough at MI5 will you? His private line.’ Ena’s mouth was suddenly very dry. She licked her lips – it didn’t help. ‘Good afternoon, Sir James, it’s Horace Dalton here. Very well thank you. And you? Jolly good. Sir James, I have favour to ask.’ There was a short pause and the commander laughed. ‘Now I shall owe you two.’ Another pause, this time Ena suspected it was Sir James who was laughing. ‘Thank you. It’s a rather delicate matter. There’s a body on a train that is due into Euston station in the next--’ He looked at his watch, ‘half an hour. It’s the 9:45 from Rugby. Could you get someone at Euston, someone who will keep this under his hat, to locate the body and stay with it until your chaps get there?’ Horace Dalton nodded and said, ‘A spy. German we think. Fell over and hit his head. Probably caused a heart attack.’ The commander laughed again. ‘Thank you, Sir James. Goodbye.’ Dalton put the receiver on its cradle and looked across the table at Ena. ‘MI5’s problem now. They’ll deal with it discreetly. The death certificate will say heart attack. So there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘What will happen to him?’
‘When MI5’s medical examiner has finished with him, he’ll be sent to the morgue. There’ll be no way of tracing his next of kin, even if he has one. These people are professionals. His identity card, ration book, petrol permit and driving license will be forgeries. Did Miss King find any papers on him?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask her.’
The commander shook his head. ‘They’ll be false anyway,’ he said. ‘If there’s an address it won’t exist. If on the off chance the address is real, I can promise you that whoever lives there won’t have heard of him.’ Dalton leaned back in his chair, put his hands on the desk palm down, and spread his fingers. ‘Even if he was carrying something that was traceable, no one will admit to knowing him.’
‘What? No one will come forward to claim the body?’
‘No. Spies know what’s in store if they are killed. If they’re caught they kill themselves anyway, by cyanide capsule.’ Ena sat wide-eyed, hardly able to take in what the commander was saying. ‘Better to be dead than risk giving up their handler and fellow spies under interrogation. It sounds harsh but spies are well aware of the rules before they sign up for the job.’ Dalton shook his head, ‘Don’t feel too sorry for him,
Ena. He would have killed you without a second thought if you hadn’t…’
‘Killed him,’ Ena whispered. She felt tears well up. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind that I have killed a man. I keep seeing him on the floor, his eyes staring up at me but not able to see… I know he was a spy, and I know he would have killed Freda if I hadn’t stopped him, but he’s still someone’s son.’ Ena burst into tears.
Commander Dalton picked up the telephone again. He pressed down several times on the receiver’s cradle. ‘Get someone to bring in a cup of strong sweet tea, will you? Then find some bloody sugar!’ he barked. He banged down the receiver. ‘Ena?’ No sooner had she looked up at him than the phone rang. ‘Dalton! What is it? Yes of course, put him through.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There was a tap at the door. Ena rose instinctively. The commander nodded and, wiping her eyes, she crossed the room. She opened the door to see a waitress from the canteen holding a cup of tea. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, taking the cup shakily. When waitress left, Ena closed the door and returned to her seat. She sipped the tea. It was just as the commander had ordered; strong and sweet. When he put down the phone, she said, ‘What is it? You look worried. Is it the man on the train?’
‘There wasn’t a man on the train, dead or alive, that fitted the description you gave, Ena.’
‘There must have been. I saw his lifeless body on the floor of the compartment. He was dead. I wish he hadn’t been, but he was. It was exactly as I told you. His eyes were open, but they were dull and staring. He was dead, I tell you.’
The commander got up slowly and walked over to the window. He looked out for some minutes before speaking. ‘And you’re certain that the man on the train today was the same man who stole your work last year?’
‘Yes. Absolutely certain.’ Ena put down her tea, pushed herself out of her chair, and joined the commander at the window. ‘I’d have known him anywhere. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him. His face, grinning when he gave me back the pear drops. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. I had nightmares for months.’ Ena stared out of the window. A flock of wild geese flew overhead and landed on the lake. She watched the water wave and settle to a ripple. ‘I recently began to sleep better.’ She shuddered. ‘I expect the nightmares will start again now.’ She lowered her gaze as tears fell onto her cheeks.
The commander laid his hand on her arm. ‘Ena?’ She lifted her head and looked at him through her tears. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone that MI5 met the train and didn’t find a body. Do you understand?’
Ena nodded. ‘I wonder what happened to it... to him?’
Commander Dalton shrugged. ‘He might have had an accomplice on the train who got the body off before it arrived in London. There are plenty of stations between here and Euston. Or he could have planned to meet someone at one of the smaller, less busy stations. If that was the case, when he didn’t get off the train, the person expecting him would probably have boarded – and when he found the body, got rid of it.’
‘What, threw it off the train?’
‘He’d have had no choice,’ the commander said. ‘And if his accomplice threw him out where there was dense foliage or woodland, we may never find it.’
Ena jumped at the sound of someone knocking on the door. ‘Remember,’ Dalton hissed, ‘Not a word about MI5 to Miss King! Come in!’ he called, as soon as they were seated.
A Wren opened the door and ushered Freda into the room. Ena got up to leave. ‘I don’t think I need to speak to Freda on her own,’ Commander Dalton said, smiling. He looked down at the notes he’d made earlier. ‘There’s just one thing. Did you find any ID on the man?’
‘No Commander. Not even a train ticket. But I only had a quick look in his jacket pocket.’
‘Thank you, Miss King. You were lucky Ena was with you.’
‘I was, sir. I dread to think what might have happened if she hadn’t come to my rescue.’
The commander nodded and looked at Ena. ‘A clear case of self-defence.’
‘That’s what I told her, sir.’ Holding her hand out to Ena, Freda said, ‘You saved my life, my friend.’
Ena opened her handbag and plunged her hand inside. ‘Where’s my damn hankie?’
‘You should have a medal,’ Freda said, taking her own handkerchief from her handbag and giving it to Ena.
‘Here, here. Now dry your eyes, Ena. The man is not worthy of your tears,’ the commander said, lifting the telephone again. ‘Would you get someone to bring in tea for three and something sweet if they can find it,’ he said, politely this time.
While they waited, Freda brought Commander Dalton up to date with what was going on at the factory. She wasn’t aware that Ena gave him regular updates. Nor did she know that Ena was watching everything the staff at Silcott’s did, even what she did. Ena felt disloyal. Freda had just helped her cover up… She couldn’t bring herself to even think the word.
The door opened and the Wren brought in a tray with three cups of tea and a plate of digestives. Ena took a cup of tea but refused a biscuit.
When they had finished their refreshments and were leaving, the commander shook Freda’s hand. ‘Look after her, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
While Freda collected their coats, Commander Dalton shook Ena’s hand. He held it for a little longer than usual. ‘The friendly chat changes nothing, Ena. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, ‘I understand.’
On the way home, Ena cried again.
Freda put her arms around her. ‘When we get to Rugby I’ll treat you to a drop of brandy.’
‘A drop? I could do with a large one. Do you think Mr Silcott would notice if we had a drink or two from the bottle he keeps in the annexe for medicinal purposes?’
‘Not when he knows why we drank it.’
Ena burst into tears again. ‘Oh Freda, I killed a man.’
‘No Ena, he killed himself when he fell.’
‘But it was because I hit him with the case that he fell.’
‘Ena,’ Freda said, exasperation in her voice, ‘you have to stop blaming yourself. You hit that madman because he had me round the throat.’
‘But I didn’t mean to kill him.’
‘Of course you didn’t. As the commander said, it was self-defence.’
Ena felt a little better knowing that the commander and Freda agreed about the man’s demise. But that was all they agreed on. Freda thought the man was a madman, the commander and Ena knew he was a German spy who would think nothing of killing them both.
Freda knew nothing about Mr Silcott being attacked the year before, the man stealing his clothes, drugging Ena on the train and stealing her work, replacing it with sabotaged work, posing as Mr Silcott, and delivering it to Bletchley Park. Ena wanted to tell her. She thought she owed it to her friend to warn her, so she knew how dangerous people like the man on the train were, but the commander had strictly forbidden her to tell anyone.
Over the next six months, Freda helped Ena to come to terms with what had happened on that terrible day, reminding her every time she talked about it that she didn’t have a choice, that the man who attacked her would have killed her if Ena hadn’t intervened.
‘It was him or me,’ Freda would say – and Ena would agree. She didn’t know what she’d have done without Freda during those months. Sometimes, although those times were getting fewer, Ena would find herself remembering vividly what happened. Out of the blue, she would see the man’s face, his eyes, and it would make her tremble. Freda was a Godsend when Ena got the shakes. And when Ena had to talk it out, Freda would listen patiently, never interrupting, until Ena had got it out of her system. Freda would tell her over and over that what had happened was not her fault. She helped her to be strong, to come to terms with what had happened, and to live with it.
A couple of times when they were talking, Ena had come close to confiding in Freda that the man’s body hadn’t arrived in Euston. She w
ondered what she’d say if she knew he had most likely been thrown from the train and lay rotting somewhere along the railway embankment? After six months he still hadn’t been found or Commander Dalton would have told her.
For all this time, the man had been exposed to the elements and to wild animals. He had probably been eaten by foxes. Ena felt the bitter-sweet taste of bile rise from her stomach to her throat. Breathing deeply and slowly, she stopped herself from being sick.
She banished all morbid thoughts of animals and corpses from her mind. There was a time when she saw his face every time she closed her eyes. When she slept, she would see him on the floor of the train, his eyes open, dull and staring. He would sit up and his chalky face would come towards hers. It would get nearer and nearer – until she woke up clenching her teeth, drenched in sweat.
The nightmares happened less as time went on. In later months, Ena had even started to accept that the man’s death was unavoidable. A terrible accident that, unless she could turn back the clock, she couldn’t change. The man was going to kill Freda. Ena had to do something to save her.
Ena knew she would never be able to forget what had happened, that it was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life, but she was at last trying to forgive herself.
It was early summer when Ena received a telephone call from Commander Dalton telling her that work sent to Beaumanor had been compromised. Her heart sank with frustration. She was no nearer to finding out who had stolen and sabotaged her work eighteen months before, and now she had the added problem of Beaumanor.
The 9 Page 15
