‘Yes I do. Ten shillings is nothing to Honor Brinklow, but she hates to lose.’ Henry held Ena close and looked dreamily into her eyes. Ena laughed. ‘What is it now?’
‘You,’ Ena giggled. Unable to help herself, she laughed out loud. Henry swung her round several times, lifting her almost off her feet. They danced until the band announced they were taking a twenty-minute break, and then walked back to their seats laughing like a pair of teenagers.
Ena took her purse from her handbag. ‘I’m going to buy you a drink.’
‘No you’re not,’ someone said at her shoulder. ‘At least not yet.’ Ena looked up to see Binkie at her side with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She put them on the table. ‘Enjoy, children.’
‘Champagne!’ Ena exclaimed. ‘Where on earth did you get champagne?’
‘The Honourable Lady Dibbs, dear. But shush, don’t tell everyone, or they’ll all want a bottle,’ Binkie whispered. ‘Can’t stop, darlings. Ciao.’
‘Thank you,’ Henry called to Binkie, as she turned to leave.
‘Don’t thank me, dear heart, thank Ena for stepping in at the last minute and making Dibbs and the rest of us look divine.’ Binkie pretended to pat her hair into place as she danced across the room. She disappeared among her crowd who were shouting, ‘Where have you been?’ and ‘Champagne for Binkie!’
Ena laughed and poured two glasses of champagne. Henry shook his head and pushed his glass into the middle of the table.
‘I’ll have that, if it’s going begging,’ Freda said, arriving almost immediately after Binkie had left. She fell into the nearest seat, reached across the table, and pulled the glass of pale bubbles towards her. ‘Thought I’d never get here. Some friends took me to the local pub. Hello?’ she purred, making a show of noticing Henry, ‘I’m Ena’s work colleague, Freda.’
‘Yes, I know. How do you do, I’m Henry.’
‘Henry? But--’ Freda eyed Ena suspiciously and with a nod, tutted. ‘Of course it is. Silly me. How do you do, Henry?’ Freda shook Henry’s hand, sat down, and picked up Henry’s champagne. ‘Cheers!’
Both women were content with champagne but Henry wanted beer and went to the bar, leaving them to chat. ‘I thought you were walking out with an American named Ben?’ Freda said.
‘I am. Henry’s an old friend from Lowarth. I told you that I’d seen him at the Park. It’s because he works here that I asked him if he would accompany me tonight.’
‘What about Ben?’
‘Ben works in London. There wasn’t time to write and tell him about the dance. I – we – didn’t even know about it until yesterday.’
‘I suppose.’ Freda narrowed her eyes. ‘So tell me. What does Henry do at Bletchley Park?’
‘Something to do with communications. Beyond that, I have no idea.’
As Henry returned, the band started to play. He hadn’t had time to sit down before Freda was on her feet and at his side. ‘Would you like to dance, Henry? You don’t mind do you, Ena?’
‘Of course not,’ Ena said, smiling up at Henry. He didn’t look too happy about the prospect of dancing, but took a swig of his beer and allowed Freda to pull him onto the dance floor.
Ena enjoyed the music. She enjoyed watching the dancers too. Some were doing the modern Swing dance, others the Jive – both were new American dances. She watched Freda and Henry until they merged with the other dancers.
When they returned to the table, Henry sat down without waiting for Freda to sit first. Freda didn’t seem to notice. Strange, Ena thought. She had never known Henry to be bad mannered, not when she was younger and he had walked out with Bess, nor during the time she had been coming to Bletchley.
‘I’m going to the Ladies,’ Ena said. Pushing back her chair, she got up and left the table. After using the toilet, she washed and dried her hands. Before refreshing her lipstick, she deliberated about the way Henry had behaved towards her friend. She wondered if he and Freda had disagreed about something while they were dancing.
It was obvious that Freda had been drinking, she’d said as much when she’d arrived. Ena had experienced her friend when she’d had too much to drink on several occasions. Her mood could change from bright and chatty to dark and morose in a very short space of time.
On her way back to the table, Ena encountered a group of people standing on the periphery of the dance floor, deep in conversation. She stopped behind them. She was only half interested in what they were talking about, her main reason for being there was to observe Henry and Freda. Swaying to the music, unnoticed by the group, and unseen by Freda and Henry, she watched the way her two friends behaved to one another.
By the frown on Freda’s face, her mood had changed from friendly to angry. She looked at Henry. He picked up his glass of beer, took a long drink, and put the glass down heavily. Freda shot him a startled look. While she feigned interest in who was on the dance floor, Henry drummed his fingers on the table. Not to the beat of the music, Ena thought. Henry is as angry with Freda as she is with him – and it looks personal.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Returning to the table, smiling first at Freda and then at Henry, Ena said, ‘Dance?’ Henry jumped up straight away.
‘I’ll get some more drinks,’ Freda said, and got up too.
Ena pulled Henry into the middle of the dance floor.
At the end of the first dance, she led him to an unlit corner of the room. There were drinks on a table and a handbag on one of the two chairs. She needed to get straight to the point in case the occupants of the table returned.
‘What was that all about?’ The lines on Henry’s forehead deepened into a frown and he shrugged, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Come on, Henry. When Freda first joined us the two of you pretended not to know each other. But you did, didn’t you?’ Henry didn’t answer her. ‘I know you did. The way you were arguing just now was not the way two people who have never met before argue. It was much more personal, intimate almost.’ Henry looked at Ena, his eyes widening with surprise. ‘So you do know her. Where from? Here?’
‘Yes. Horace Dalton thought there was something about her that wasn’t quite kosher. He got me to take her out to tea, as a friend, and find out what I could about her.’
Ena knew all about having to find out about people. She had done the same to Ben under Commander Dalton’s instructions. ‘And?’
‘And we’ve had tea together twice when she’s been at Bletchley with Herbert Silcott.’
‘Freda didn’t say anything to me, nor did Mr Silcott.’
‘He wouldn’t have known. Both times were on Fridays when she was spending the weekend with her uncle in Northampton.’ Ena looked over to where the three of them had been sitting. Freda had returned with the drinks and was placing them around the table. ‘Perhaps she wants more from me than friendship.’
‘And you?’
‘No. I don’t want more. I told you, Horace Dalton asked me to find out about her.’
‘So?’
Henry looked at her as if he didn’t know what she meant. ‘Does the commander have any reason to be worried? Do I have reason to be worried? Could Freda be involved in sabotaging the work for Bletchley?’
‘No,’ Henry said with certainty. ‘I’m positive she isn’t involved in anything like that. I told you, I think it’s just that she has read too much into me taking her out to tea. Which is why she was annoyed when she arrived tonight and saw me with you.’
‘And why she asked me so bluntly about Ben. Now you’ve explained the situation, it makes sense. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be angry with you, I’m just tired of suspecting everyone I meet of being a spy or a traitor.’ Ena laughed. ‘Except for you, of course. You couldn’t be a spy and be as close as you are to Commander Dalton.’ Ena put her hands up to her face and gasped. ‘Perhaps it’s the commander who’s the spy. He could be sitting in his office now, plotting and planning the country’s demise, laughing at us as we run round in circles accusing and falling o
ut with each other. What do you think?’
‘Horace Dalton a spymaster?’ Henry shuddered and grimaced. ‘That’s much too frightening to contemplate.’
Ena looked over Henry’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Freda looks miserable on her own, let’s join her.’
By the time they reached the table, Freda was sitting with her head in her hands.
Pretending to be out of breath from dancing, Ena picked up her gin and tonic. ‘Thank you, Freda,’ she said, taking a drink.
Freda lifted her head and nodded. ‘Sorry, for being a misery.’
‘Nothing to be sorry for.’ Ena looked at her watch. She wished now that she hadn’t lied to her friend. She should have told her about the dance, and that she was staying at the Station Hotel, as soon as Commander Dalton told her he’d booked the room. Ena sighed. Maybe if Henry had told her yesterday what he just said, she would have told her.
Ena wasn’t a good liar, or good at getting out of situations by lying. Which was what she had to do now. ‘It’s time I left, or I’ll miss my train.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Freda said. ‘Well, as far as Northampton.’
‘No! Honestly, Freda, there’s no need. Besides, the dance doesn’t end for ages, if we both leave poor Henry will be all on his own. No, you stay here and keep him company.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course.’ Ena turned to Henry. ‘You don’t want to leave yet, do you, Henry?’
Henry looked at Ena and shook his head very slowly. She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t saying he didn’t want to leave, but that he couldn’t believe Ena’s ploy to get away without Freda. He stood up as Ena stood. ‘I’m going to get my coat and case, won’t be a tick.’
Wearing her coat, and carrying her small case, Ena returned to the table and picked up her handbag. ‘I’m off,’ she said, kissing Freda on the cheek. ‘Have a nice weekend with your uncle. See you at work on Monday.’ She walked round the table, leant forward, and kissed the air next to Henry’s cheek. He pushed back his chair to get up. ‘Stay where you are!’ Ena ordered. ‘Thank you for accompanying me tonight, even if I did have to twist your arm up your back to get you to do it.’ Henry began to protest, but Ena put up her hand and turned to Freda. ‘Look after him, won’t you. Make sure he doesn’t spill beer down his suit. It goes back on Monday.’
Turning her back on Henry, Ena cut across the room to the door, yanked it open and left.
It was unseasonably cold outside. Ena stopped and buttoned her coat before setting off for the hotel. As she walked along the side of the building, she heard a girl call out. It made her jump and she stopped dead.
A second later, Ena heard a man’s voice. It was deep and husky. She couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was it made the girl giggle – so Ena resumed her journey.
In the distance, she saw the hooded headlights of a motorcar. It turned into the car park. Its lights extinguished, she heard someone, presumably the driver, open and shut the door. It was too dark to see where he was heading, the faint sound of his footfall disappeared in seconds.
As she neared the car park, Ena thought she heard other footsteps. She stopped and looked round. There was no one behind her, or to her left or right. She tutted loudly. With security guards on the gates around the clock, no one could get in or out of the Park without identification, a pass and a damn good reason to be there, which no stranger to the Park would have at this time of night.
She took a calming breath, told herself that Bletchley Park was the safest of places, and carried on walking. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards when she heard the footsteps again. She stopped, and they stopped. Her nerves tightened at the top of her stomach and she could feel her heart pounding.
Approaching the entrance to the car park, she quickened her step. She was about equal distance from the mansion to the main gate when she heard the footsteps behind her speed up. She stayed close to the cars and when the footsteps grew louder, nearer, she sidestepped to her left and ducked down behind the first vehicle in a row of seven or eight.
She put her hand on the bonnet to steady herself. It was warm. It was the car she had seen parking a few minutes earlier. She held her breath and hoped the owner would return soon and help her. Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared whoever was following her would hear it.
Crouching, with one hand on the car’s mudguard and the other on the bumper, Ena leaned to the left. Poking her head round the side of the car, she froze. The moon was on the wane, giving only a little light, but she saw clearly enough the silhouette of a man in an overcoat and trilby hat. She held her breath as she watched him walk towards her. If she didn’t move he would be on top of her in seconds.
She slid her suitcase and handbag under the car and, on all fours, crawled as quickly and quietly as she was able along the ground until she was midway between the first and last car. She stopped and listened. The footsteps began again, slower, more of a shuffle, but nearer. She moved again, as she had the first time, until she arrived at the end of the row.
There was a footpath on her right. It ran along the front of several huts – and it was a mere six feet away. If she could only get to it, she could hide behind one of the low walls. She heard what sounded like someone exhale. She strained her ears, trying to work out where her stalker was. Not daring to look round the car, she bent down to look under it – and froze again. He was on one side of the car, Ena was on the other. With a few feet between them, Ena had no choice but to make a run for it now.
Easing herself up from a kneeling position to sitting on her haunches, ready to make her escape, Ena heard voices in the distance. Not allowing herself to be distracted, but hoping that her stalker was, Ena sprang up and fled from behind the car. Launching herself over the low wall, she landed between it and a door. With fear pounding in her ears, she waited for the footsteps to begin again. When they didn’t, she reached up and tried the door. It was locked.
She was about to run to the next hut when she was grabbed from behind and pushed into the doorway. She opened her mouth to scream, but a mouth firmly covering hers, stifled any sound she attempted to make.
She tried to move, to wriggle free, but the man had her pinned against the door with his body and was gripping her arms at her side. She thought about kneeing him in the groin, but his legs were between hers. She couldn’t move.
She heard footsteps again, but this time they walked past. The man who was kissing her had saved her from whoever had been following her. He loosened the grip on her arms and lifted his face from hers. ‘Quiet,’ he whispered.
‘Henry?’
‘Don’t speak. He may be hanging about.’ They stood in silence listening for the sound of footsteps. They didn’t have to wait long. At first they seemed near, but they soon receded into the distance. Eventually they couldn’t hear anything at all.
With his head bent down as if he were still kissing her, Henry said, ‘I think he’s gone, but he may be lying in wait. Look round me, see if you can see him.’
‘I can’t see anything, because I can’t see past you.’
‘Right. Hang on, I’m going to lift you up. When I do, moan a bit, or giggle. Pretend you’re enjoying it and have a look around.’ Ena didn’t have time to say anything before Henry had lifted her up. With her legs round his waist, she began making similar noises to those she’d heard the girl make when she first left the dance. Embarrassed and feeling very stupid, Ena whispered, ‘You can put me down now.’
‘What?’ Henry whispered.
‘Put me down!’ she hissed, boxing him on the shoulder.
Henry lowered her to the ground. ‘Well?’
‘I couldn’t see him. I think he must have given up and gone into the dance.’ She shivered. ‘Do you think he knows me, was watching me in the dance, and waiting for me to leave?’ she said, her voice trembling.
‘No. He had no way of knowing you’d leave on your own. I’m sure he was just chancing his arm for a kiss and a cuddle.’
<
br /> ‘Which reminds me. Thank you for, er…’
‘Kissing you?’
‘Almost suffocating me,’ Ena retorted. ‘But no, seriously--’
‘It was my pleasure.’ Henry’s voice sounded hoarse. ‘Not many men would disturb a couple canoodling in the shadows.’
‘No.’ Ena felt tearful. ‘Oh God,’ she cried, ‘What would have happened if you hadn’t left the dance when you did?’
‘Don’t think about that now. Come on, I’ll walk you to the station.’
Before leaving the car park, Henry retrieved Ena’s suitcase and handbag from under the first car. Insisting on carrying the case, he handed Ena her bag. Her legs felt like jelly. She stumbled and went over on the side of her shoe. ‘Hang onto me,’ Henry said. Ena leant into him. She held him round the waist and he put his free arm round her.
At the entrance to the station, Ena stopped walking. ‘I’m not catching the train.’ Henry looked baffled. ‘I’m booked in at the hotel,’ she said, pointing to the Station Hotel a little further along the street. ‘It was a last minute thing. I’ve been working all hours, most Saturdays and some Sundays. Anyway, Mr Silcott, insisted I stayed overnight on expenses,’ she lied. ‘I didn’t tell you earlier because I thought it best not to say anything in front of Freda. She’s been working long hours too, but he didn’t offer to treat her to the hotel. Anyway, I didn’t think it was fair to say anything.’ Ena felt the colour creeping up her neck to her cheeks and laughed nervously. ‘She’d probably have thought I’d planned it to--’
‘To what?’
Ena laughed, again. ‘Oh, I don’t know... To get you back to my room and trap you in some way! But I didn’t plan it, so she’d be wrong.’
Henry walked Ena to the hotel. ‘I fancy a drink,’ he said, opening the door. ‘I promised Freda I would travel to Northampton with her, but I can’t face going back to the dance. And I am not going to hang about the station for three quarters of an hour. Would you keep me company?’
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