The 9

by Madalyn Morgan

  In an attempt to suppress the contradictory feelings of excitement and fear, Ena breathed deeply and slowly. Then, with the nerves on top of her stomach as tight as the skin on a drum, she opened the first of the letters. It was from Freda’s brother Walter and began “My darling Frieda.” There was something about the salutation that wasn’t right. She read it again, “My darling Frieda.” Darling was a little over-affectionate for brother and sister, but it wasn’t that. After scrutinising the first three words, Ena saw that Walter had spelt his sister’s name differently.

  She read on. “I cannot wait until we are home.” Ena looked at the envelope. The stamp was postmarked Northampton. So, home wasn’t with their uncle… He went on to say, “I will be on the Liverpool train, as arranged,” and he finished with “Wear the red beret I bought you in Paris, it reminds me of the happy times we shared when we were young.”

  Ena had never seen Freda in a red beret. Then it came to her. She had seen her wear a beret once. It was not long after she started working at Silcott Engineering. She wore it with a grey suit with matching gloves and-- Ena froze. She could hear voices outside the door. Quickly returning Walter’s letter to its envelope, she put it in the drawer. She hadn’t had time to look at the other letters, but after reading Walter’s letter there was no need.

  Bending down to make sure the grooves on the sides of the drawer were level with the ledges on the desk’s frame, she noticed a strip of brown industrial tape across the back of the cabinet. Looking more closely she could see it was concealing something bulky.

  Fearing that whoever was outside would come in and catch her, her heart thumped. She toyed with replacing the drawer and looking at what the tape held later, but once Freda had arrived, Ena wouldn’t get the chance.

  Besides, if Freda was planning to leave – and it looked like she was – she might take whatever it was behind the tape with her, and then Ena would never know. She ran to the door and put her ear against it. All she could hear was the throb of her own pulse. Satisfied that whoever had been talking outside had gone, she returned to the desk and dropped to her knees.

  Reaching into the back of the wooden casing, Ena touched the bulk of what was hidden there. Then, walking her fingers to the end of the tape, she picked at it until it came loose. She took a calming breath and listened again for signs of life beyond the door. There were none. Now, fully focused on the job, Ena pulled the end of the tape and a key fell from its adhesive hold. Her worst fear had been confirmed.

  Ena picked the key up and, holding it against the wood with one hand, drew the tape back across it with the other. She studied the tape for some seconds. She needed to be sure that the protrusion was in the same place as it had been when she first noticed it. It was.

  After closing the drawer, Ena made two telephone calls: one to Mr Silcott at Beaumanor Hall, to ask him to bring back copies of the dates and times that Freda had booked in work at the facility. The second was to Commander Dalton, to tell him about finding the key to the safe, the ferry tickets and Walter’s letter. When she had relayed every detail of Freda’s forthcoming departure, she moved the desk away from the door and went to Maintenance.

  Borrowing a mop and bucket, Ena cleaned the area where she had spilt tea and returned the desk to its original place. When the room was back to normal, she switched on the kettle. When it had boiled, she made a fresh pot of tea, and while it mashed, she returned the cleaning equipment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The continual hum filtering through from the machines on the factory floor, usually a comfort to Ena, irritated her as she tried to concentrate on her work. She looked at her wristwatch, it was four o’clock. Whoever took work to Beaumanor was usually back by now. She turned her attention back to the X-board she was working on. Sensitive to the slightest noise, she sat up with a jolt as the door clicked open.

  ‘Mr Silcott!’ Ena jumped up as her boss entered the room and she ran to meet him. Relieving him of his briefcase, she laid it on a side unit and helped him out of his coat. The telephone rang.

  ‘Get that will you, Ena? And tell whoever it is, I’ll ring them back.’

  Desperate to see Freda’s booking-in sheets from Beaumanor, Ena reluctantly crossed to the telephone. ‘Silcott Engineering. May I help you?’ she said, hoping whoever was on the other end of the telephone would ask for her boss, so she could end the call quickly.

  ‘Hello, Ena, it’s Freda,’ her work colleague said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Freda?’ In her head, Ena had thought of a dozen things to say when she saw Freda but she was so shocked to hear her voice she couldn’t think of one. It didn’t matter, Freda didn’t give her time to speak.

  ‘I’m still at my uncle’s. I’ve had an upset stomach. Hopefully it’s one of those twenty-four-hour things and I’ll be all right tomorrow.’

  ‘Wasn’t anything you had to drink on Saturday night, I hope?’ Ena said, her knuckles white from gripping the telephone receiver so tightly.

  Freda laughed. ‘You never know, we did have quite a night, didn’t we?’

  Ena forced herself to laugh. ‘We did. It was certainly a night to remember.’ And one that I won’t forget in a hurry, she thought.

  ‘Did Herbert take the work up to Beaumanor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank goodness. I was worried about it.’

  ‘He’s just got back. Would you like him to ring you--?’

  ‘No need. Just tell him I’ll be in tomorrow, late morning.’

  ‘Don’t come in unless you feel up to it,’ Ena said. She was hoping Freda would ask about the letter. She didn’t. ‘You do sound poorly,’ she continued, with as much concern in her voice as she could muster. ‘I’m sure we could manage without you for another day.’

  ‘Thank you, but honestly, I’m much better today. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.’

  ‘You know best. Goodbye then, see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, before you go?’

  Here it comes, Ena thought, the question she had been waiting for. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Have I had any post today?’

  ‘There’s a pile of letters on the side, but with Mr Silcott going up to Beaumanor, I haven’t had time to sort them out yet.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be a dear and have a quick look to see if any are addressed to me?’

  Got you! Ena punched the air. ‘Of course, hang on a second.’ Ena laid down the receiver and went over to Freda’s desk. Ena counted to ten, picked up the letters and returned to the telephone. ‘Now let me sort yours out.’ Pretending to go through them, she said at last, ‘Four addressed to Mr Silcott, and …. three addressed to you! Two are from suppliers – bills I expect.’ Ena put them down on the desk, slowly, to make Freda wait. ‘And one,’ she said, turning it over in her hand to read the back of the envelope, ‘is from a ferry company. I expect it’s work. Do you want me to open it and see?’

  ‘No!’ Freda’s rejection of Ena’s offer of opening the letter was immediate and final.

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Yes. I know what it is. It’s a ticket for my uncle, for his birthday, which isn’t until next month. I’ll deal with it, and the other post, when I come in. Oh, Uncle has made me some soup, I’d better go. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, see you tomorrow,’ Ena said, through gritted teeth. She put the telephone receiver down and stood for some minutes, trying to calm her palpitating heart.

  ‘Freda,’ she said, when she eventually turned round and spoke to Herbert Silcott. ‘She isn’t well, but feels sure she’ll be better by tomorrow. She said she was in Northampton, so don’t expect her until late morning,’ Ena said, unable to hide her anger.

  Herbert Silcott acknowledged the information with a nod. ‘Not like her,’ he said. Ena didn’t comment. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on, Ena?’

  Suggesting her boss sit down, Ena ran through the events of Saturday night, finishing with how she was followed when she left the dance and had to hide behind
the cars in the car park. ‘I was frightened out of my wits. If it hadn’t been for Henry Green leaving the dance a few seconds after me, noticing a man acting suspiciously, and coming to my aid, God only knows what would have happened.’

  She chose not to tell Herbert Silcott that Henry had saved her life by kissing her in a dark doorway. She didn’t think she could report that particular piece of information without embarrassing him as well as herself. Even now, just thinking about it, butterflies played havoc in the pit of her stomach.

  A mixture of care and concern crossed Herbert Silcott’s face. Rubbing his chin, he very slowly shook his head. With Freda’s letters still in her hand, Ena showed her boss the address on the back of the largest envelope.

  Reading the name of the ferry company aloud, he said, ‘I don’t understand. What is this?’ Ena told him that, while he had been in Beaumanor that morning, she had steamed open the letter, and gave him the sheet of paper with the information that she had relayed to Commander Dalton over the telephone. ‘And there’s something else,’ Ena said. Herbert Silcott lifted his head from Freda’s travel details and raised his eyebrows. ‘Freda’s brother spelt her name with an ‘i’. I expect it was a slip. He’s never done it before, but he clearly wrote, F-r-i-e-d-a.’

  Ena crossed the room to the kettle. Her throat was dry. She’d only had one hot drink since arriving at work that morning – the rest she’d let go cold. She also thought a cup of strong tea would be welcomed by her boss.

  By the time Herbert Silcott had listened to every detail of Ena’s expedition into the secret life of Freda King, if that was her name, the tea was made. Ena carried two cups to her boss’s desk and handed him one. He accepted his cup with shaking hands.

  They drank in silence.

  When they had finished, Herbert Silcott took the delivery sheets that Ena had asked for from his briefcase. ‘The one you’ll be most interested in is at the bottom of the pile.’ His mouth was turned down at the corners in disgust and his eyes flashed with anger. ‘The first time Freda took work to Beaumanor on her own was the day I was set-upon by thugs, you were drugged, and your work stolen on the way to Bletchley.’

  Ena took the delivery sheet from the bottom of the pile and read it. The time Freda had arrived at Beaumanor was 2:35pm.

  The following morning, Ena arrived at work early. Meeting the postman by the front door, she took four letters from him. Two were addressed to H. Silcott, and two were addressed to Freda. One Ena knew was from a supplier because it was addressed to Miss F. King, had Invoice in brackets and had been written on a typewriter. The second was handwritten with Personal in the top left hand corner. She dropped that day’s post on top of the previous day’s, levelling the letters into a neat pile as she always did, and telephoned Commander Dalton for further instructions. There were none.

  ‘I have passed on everything you told me yesterday to MI5,’ he said. ‘They are putting certain measures in place, which I will tell you about when I am told. For now, behave to Miss King as you would if you hadn’t found the ferry tickets or the letter from her brother. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mr Silcott will be in soon. Shall I ask him to ring you?’

  ‘No. I spoke to him last night.’ There was a sudden silence. Sensing that the commander had more to say, Ena waited. ‘Herbert is extremely angry. I told him that MI5 was involved and it was imperative that you and he treat Freda King as you always have – ordered him to do so – but he was still huffing and puffing when we said goodbye. I am relying on you to make sure he doesn’t give the game away, Ena. Make him understand that he must behave normally towards her.’

  ‘I will, sir. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No. I’ll let you know what MI5 plans to do, as soon as they tell me. Goodbye.’ The commander put down the receiver without waiting for Ena to reply.

  Herbert Silcott arrived within minutes of Ena speaking to Commander Dalton. He took off his coat and threw it over his chair. Ena said good morning and asked if he would like a cup of tea, to which he only grunted. Before lighting the gas jet under the kettle, she hung up his coat.

  While she made the tea, Ena went through several scenarios as to how she was going to convey the importance of treating Freda normally to her boss. ‘Commander Dalton phoned just before you arrived,’ she said, handing her boss his cup.

  ‘Does he want me to ring him back?’ he asked, reaching for the telephone on his desk.

  ‘No! He rang to make sure I understood the importance of treating Freda as I always have. I – we – mustn’t act differently towards her.’ Ena lowered her voice. ‘He said MI5 was planning something, and it was imperative that we don’t give her cause to suspect anything’s wrong. You know.’ Ena nodded at the stack of letters.

  Her boss shrugged. ‘I shan’t say a word. I was angry. I am still angry. She has brought the Silcott name into disrepute. We may never be trusted to work for the MoD again. This business could be the end of Silcott Engineering.’

  Ena put her hand on her boss’s arm. He looked up at her. She could see he was fighting back the tears. ‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ he said. ‘I won’t let Horace Dalton or damned MI5 down. I want the woman caught and thrown in jail. The last thing I want is for her to disappear back to Germany.’

  ‘Quite right, sir. I told the commander not to worry, that we will both act normally for however long it takes. There is just one thing.’ A puzzled frown appeared on Herbert Silcott’s face. ‘If Freda bats her eyes at you, you know the way she does sometimes for a joke, you mustn’t react differently. Treat it as a joke, as you always do. Every aspect of the working day must be normal. As you said, sir, if she gets an inkling we’re on to her she’ll disappear, and we don’t want that.’

  Herbert Silcott put up his hand. ‘No, we do not! Trust me, Ena, if she does suspect we’re on to her, it will not be because of anything I have said or done!’ A sharp nod told Ena that, as far as he was concerned, the subject was closed.

  The moment Ena dreaded came just after eleven o’clock. She heard the door open, the distinctive clip-clop of Freda’s high-heels as she came into the annexe, and again when she turned and closed the door. Ena shot a look at Herbert Silcott and saw his back stiffen. She was annoyed that he hadn’t acknowledged Freda’s arrival, which he always did.

  ‘Hello, Freda,’ Ena whispered, ‘shan’t be a minute.’ Pulling the last of the wires through the rotors on the X-board, she picked up the small drill and found the right bit. Usually used for boring holes in metal, Ena used it to engrave her initials on her work. Not as big in circumference as a knitting needle, the cutting tool created perfect cylindrical holes and…and was ideal for…piercing holes in pear drops!

  Ena stared at the twist drill bit. Fingers of fear walked down her spine as the realisation of how the sleeping draught had been put into the pear drops, hit her. Her hands trembled. She made fists of them, clenched them beneath the desk and, leaning close to the work, pretended she was checking it. She needed time to calm down, put the poisoning of the pear drops and the theft of her work out of her mind. She needed to play the part of Freda’s friend, as Freda had played the part of being her friend these past three years.

  ‘That looks… fine!’ she said, lifting her head from the work. She put down the drill and exhaled loudly. Not with relief, because she had finished the job, but because until then she hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath. ‘Welcome back,’ Ena said, beaming a smile at Freda, which she hoped looked natural.

  Freda took off her coat and hung it up. Sighing heavily, she crossed the room to her desk and dropped onto her chair. ‘I’m exhausted. I’ve hardly slept for forty-eight hours.’

  ‘Tummy upsets are horrid,’ Ena said, sympathetically. ‘You open your post and--’ Damn! She could have bitten off her tongue for mentioning the post so soon after Freda had arrived. It was too late now. ‘You took your post, didn’t you, Mr Silcott?’ she said, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

  He mumbled, ‘No’
, but didn’t turn round.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Freda mouthed, running the letter opener along the top of the first letter. Ena lifted her shoulders and shook her head.

  Ena understood how her boss felt – she felt the same – but he needed to play along as she was doing. Freda was an intelligent woman. The slightest inkling that anything was wrong, and she’d be gone. Ena reckoned that knowing what he knew about Freda, Herbert Silcott would either pull out all the stops and treat Freda as he always had, or let fly at her. Ena couldn’t let that happen.

  ‘If there are any letters for Mr Silcott, take them over to him, will you, Freda?’

  Freda flicked through the pile. ‘Only bills I’m afraid, Herbert,’ she said, putting them on his desk.

  ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled, without looking at her.

  Freda glanced over Herbert Silcott’s shoulder at the sheet he was working on. She raised her eyebrows. Back in her own seat, she whispered, ‘He’s costing a job. Do you think we should buy him an abacus?’

  ‘I heard that,’ Herbert Silcott said. Turning round, he looked over the top of his glasses and winked at Ena. ‘And what time do you call this, Miss King?’ he said to Freda in an overly stern, theatrical, voice. Both women laughed. ‘Good to have you back,’ he said, and returned to his work.

  Ena rolled her eyes with relief, and laughed. It wasn’t until he made the joke about Freda’s timekeeping that she dared to hope her boss would behave towards Freda as he had done before Ena had told him his assistant was a German spy.

  Ena’s cheeks ached from forcing herself to smile. She was bitterly disappointed by Freda’s disloyalty to the company, devastated by her treasonous acts, and hurt that their friendship was a sham, but she would die before letting Freda King know she felt any of those things.