by Jules Wake
‘Ah. I understand now. It’s confusing that the Army and Navy are here.’
‘The RAF as well,’ piped up the girl. ‘That’s why it’s called the CSDIC, Combined Services Detailed Interrogation Centre.’
Evelyn took pity on Judith’s confusion and jerked her thumb to the door. ‘The Colonel will tell you all.’
At that moment another uniformed woman arrived. ‘Lieutenant Brooke-Edwards?’
‘Yes, that’s me,’ said Evelyn, swinging round to find another officer addressing her.
‘Welcome. I’m Lieutenant Wenham. Here to show you your cabin.’
She turned to Judith and mouthed, ‘See.’
‘I’m afraid there’s been a bit of ballyhoo and you’re going to be bunking down with a couple others. The quarters in the old dairy have been flooded and so they’re putting two extras in your allocated cabin up in the old servants’ quarters. Lower ranks, I’m afraid. Not what we’re used to but you’ll find round here that we don’t always stick to the formalities. Especially with combined services. I hope you’re not going to kick up a stink.’ She gave Evelyn a narrow-eyed stare from cool grey eyes. Her short hair, swept across her head from a low side parting, fanned around her ears in soft curls, but despite the fashionable hair-do, the grim expression made her look much older than her years, which Evelyn put at around twenty-nine.
Evelyn hurriedly shook her head. It was unconventional but hardly the end of the world and she quite liked the idea of sharing with other women. It would be like the camaraderie of the dorms at her boarding school.
The stocky, stern Lieutenant Wenham was still talking. ‘But needs must. Make do and all that. I’m sure they’ll be decent types.’
‘I’m sure they will,’ said Evelyn. ‘And I can sleep anywhere these days.’ She had a quick longing thought of her bed at Quartiles in Henley, and then thought of the box room at Mrs Rankin’s, which had been freezing in the winter, boiling in the summer and decorated with the slime trails of slugs across the linoleum for most of the year. How her life had changed since those wonderful summers in Heidelberg.
‘You got lucky. You’re in the main house. No rats up there.’ She shot Evelyn a sudden grin and Evelyn wasn’t sure if she were joking or not. She sincerely hoped she was.
Chapter Seven
Judith
After the elegant Evelyn was borne away, Judith sat alone, feeling both curious and terrified. Where had she come to? And why did they want her here? She’d picked up on the words ‘Interrogation Centre’. The thought of coming face to face with fellow Germans who were fighting for their country filled her with unease.
Before she could puzzle further, the door opened and she swallowed down her nerves, smoothing her clammy hands over the rough fabric of her skirt, and followed an invitation into the office as the man standing there introduced himself as Colonel Myers.
‘Do take a seat, Private Stern.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘I expect you’re wondering why you’re here and what this place is and why you’ve been selected.’ There was something immensely … no, likeable wasn’t quite the word. He had a pull about him that made you keen to please him. She immediately surmised that he was the sort of man you would trust with your secrets.
‘You have a very good understanding of engineering, which will be invaluable. Your test scores were excellent.’
‘Thank you.’ Why the importance of engineering?
‘I imagine life has been somewhat turbulent for you but I hope here you’ll find a safe harbour for the time being. There are over fifty German staff here. Many of them Jews who escaped the National Socialist regime.’
She blinked. So many. She’d never been posted with fellow Jews or Germans before.
He took off his glasses and kindness softened his lined face. ‘My sister and her family, two small children, had to flee Germany in the middle of the night.’ He took out a handkerchief and polished his glasses, shifting his gaze away from hers. ‘By all accounts a terrifying experience. I myself had to leave Austria in rather a hurry after an unfortunate, but thankfully brief, episode in Gestapo custody.’
Although he didn’t look at her, she could feel his warm empathy. Like her, he understood what it was like to be hunted and to have that sweat-drenching fear of what might happen if the Gestapo got hold of you.
‘Here we have created an important operation, which is a vital part of the war effort.’
Some of her frustration must have shown in her eyes because he laughed. ‘Sorry, I’ve been talking in riddles for too long. Why don’t I show you something?’
He turned around and grasped the edge of a floor-length green velvet curtain next to the large map of Europe tacked onto the wallpapered wall. With quick hands he beckoned her to follow him through a heavy wood-panelled door as he stepped into a narrow corridor which she imagined had once been a servants’ passageway. The floors were bare boards and the walls here were a dull white, contrasting sharply with the opulent wallpapers and thick carpets of the bedrooms. They walked along and then down a few steps before coming to another door, which he opened. Inside was a solitary chair and a single desk pushed up against a wall, and on top of it were a series of black boxes full of dials and switches reminiscent of an aircraft cockpit. Pressing one of the switches below the mesh wires of a small round loudspeaker, Myers held up one finger. ‘Listen.’
To her surprise she could hear two German voices talking. She listened intently, wondering if this was another test and he expected her to translate. One of the men was bemoaning the fact that he hadn’t seen a newspaper in days and complaining that he was bored, while the other suggested that perhaps they could ask for a chess board to pass some of the time. Before the conversation had finished, Myers cut it off by pressing another switch.
Judith waited, trying to remember word for word what the two men had said.
‘Poor chaps. They’re going to be bored for a while longer. They’re airmen, the Luftwaffe, and we’ve been interrogating them to try and find out more about the ground-based radar systems the Germans are using to detect our fighter planes. I understand you have some knowledge of radar systems and that you worked for Siemens and Halske.’
She nodded, although she still didn’t follow.
‘We listen in to all their conversations and sometimes we overhear some very interesting and helpful information. All of the prisoners of war here are officers of high military rank that have useful intelligence. Of course, they’re not always prepared to reveal it during interrogation, but they often talk when they return to their cells. Some of them think we’re quite stupid and relish telling each other what they wouldn’t tell their interrogators. It would be quite amusing if it wasn’t so very informative.’
Judith’s mouth dropped open. ‘How? Here?’ She looked around the room, remembering the beautiful house beyond its walls.
‘Yes, and no one knows what goes on here.’
‘Really, Sir?’ She stared at him with disbelief.
‘Oh yes, what we do here is of the utmost secrecy.’ His face broke into a sudden grin. ‘It’s ingenious. Each cell is wired with tiny microphones situated in various places so that we can listen in to every word they say. The information we gather is invaluable; from what morale in Germany is like through to where gun emplacements are positioned in Europe, how U-boats protect fleets, the equipment they use on planes and boats, the plans they have for air attacks. From the information we gather we compile in-depth reports which are then disseminated to all sections of the military. This is an intricate and complex operation which has the full backing and support of the Prime Minister.’
Judith’s eyes widened as she tried to take in what he was saying. It seemed almost impossible to believe and in some ways ridiculous, but also incredibly clever. Her brain darted this way and that, trying to gather together all the different implications. ‘So the prisoners have no idea. Nor do the people in the village. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
Myers smiled. ‘And I hope you never will. It is vital that what we do here is kept a secret. You will need to sign the Official Secrets Act and not speak of what you do to anyone, even members of the other services and departments here. This is an extremely well-oiled machine with a team that does its utmost at all times to deliver. With increasing numbers of POWs, we are busier than ever. Make no mistake, this is no sinecure.’
‘Good,’ said Judith, sticking out her chin, fascinated by what she’d heard. ‘I want to work. I want to help.’
‘Excellent,’ said Myers. ‘The work we do here is every bit as vital as being on active service. It might feel a long way from battle but I promise you, it is essential. Don’t ever believe otherwise.
‘You will be part of the listening team. Your technical vocabulary will be very useful when we’re listening in to some of the officers from the U-boats and captured airmen. Welcome to the team.’ He held out his hand.
‘Thank you, Sir.’ She shook his hand, feeling a little overawed and just a little thrilled by his words, but already her tidy, ordered brain was trying to understand the mechanics. It had always been the way with her, like breaking down a technically difficult piece of music. Her father and aunt had teased her about her constant curiosity to know how things worked. It was why she’d enjoyed her work in the factory so much, even though it was a long way from playing the piano, which had been her primary passion. She couldn’t help herself asking the question, even though it might be considered an impertinence to a senior office. ‘But how does it all work?’
Myers beamed as if she’d asked to hold his baby. ‘You really want to know?’
‘Yes,’ she said, suddenly fascinated, the questions suddenly bombarding her brain. ‘How far away are the cells and how do you hear here?’
‘Come with me, I’ll show you.’
After the tour of the house, with her head still reeling, she left Myers on the main stairs and a Wren showed her to another smaller, narrow staircase which led up to the attics. It was like stepping into another world. The M room, as Myers had shown her, was one of the most fascinating and interesting places she’d ever been and lots of people in this house didn’t even know it was there. The room in the basement of the house, in what had been the old wine cellars, was where all the listening to the POWs was done. It was accessed from a Nissen hut extension on the outside of the building that was disguised as an ordinary administrative office. However, behind the office, down a long corridor, double locked with doors at either end, there was a room taking up a whole cellar area where teams of listeners were arranged in groups of four around the listening equipment which was positioned in the centre of a table. There were ten tables in all and each team could listen to up to three cells at any one time. She’d been inspired by the intense concentration in the room and the sense of important work being done. Even better was that she would be part of it, a cog in the machine, and that at long last she had a place and meaningful work to do. Inside a small knot unravelled, as if, like a feather blown about on the breeze, she’d finally come to rest. Her excitement wasn’t diminished by the sight of the small room that was to be home for the foreseeable future.
‘Here you go, your quarters are at the top of the stairs.’ With that the Wren hurried off as if she had a dozen other places to be.
‘Hello, again. Looks like we’re going to be cabinmates.’ Evelyn was standing in the room, a case at her feet, sliding a pressed uniform shirt onto a coat hanger.
‘Hello.’ Judith looked around the cramped quarters. Three beds were crammed in, one along the wall with the head of the bed tucked under the eaves and the other two on the longer wall opposite arranged like the interlocking teeth of a zipper. Between them there was just enough room to weave in and out of them.
‘It’s going to be snug,’ said Evelyn cheerfully, ‘but I reckon we’ve got the best view in the house.’ She pointed to the dormer window cutting into the slope right down to the floor. ‘And look, we can climb out.’ Judith, intrigued by her enthusiasm, crossed the window to look out. From here she could see across the river and a wide stretch of fields to either side. Below the window was a tiny roof area no more than a couple of yards wide, behind the crenellated walls at the top of the house.
‘Our own private terrace.’ Evelyn grinned. ‘Doesn’t get better than that. Do you have a preference for which bed?’ It looked as if she’d already bagged the bed on the far side of the room as her smart suitcase lay on the pile of sheets and blankets.
‘No,’ said Judith. ‘At my last posting there were twenty of us in one room. This feels like luxury. And I think I’ll have this bed.’ She put her father’s case on the bed under the eaves.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes,’ said Judith firmly. She needed the security of being able to escape through the nearest exit if she ever had cause. At the barracks, she’d swapped places to be by the draughty old window. She would never forget the terrifying journey from Berlin to Austria, always looking over her shoulder from the moment she’d left the family home. Four generations of Sterns had lived in the spacious apartment in the tall four-storied building into which her mother had moved with her in-laws when she married her father. Judith had had to leave taking just what she could carry, without saying goodbye to her neighbours opposite, the Cohens, or the Ackerlands upstairs. She’d only been able to take two photos, one of her mother, who had died when she was three years old, and the other of her father.
Evelyn began to unpack with the blithe, uninhibited ease of one who’d never had to worry about the state of her undergarments. Judith averted her eyes from the sight of the silk underwear that came out of the top of her case, feeling embarrassed. What would the other girl think of her knitted vest tops and the flannel nightgown that had been her grandmother’s? Thank goodness for the ATS-issued directoire knickers, shoes and shirts. Her coat, the only one she possessed apart from her uniform greatcoat, was made from an old blanket that had belonged to her great-aunt and, like the few clothes she had, all had been made or altered from her grandparents’ wardrobes when they’d died. Things had been difficult in Germany long before the Nazis swept to power. Evelyn’s wardrobe didn’t look as if it had suffered.
Ducking her head, Judith decided to make her bed instead, focusing on making tight hospital corners.
‘Oh Lord. How do you do that?’ asked Evelyn, coming to stand beside her and patting the neatly tucked-in blankets.
‘Do what?’
‘Make everything stay in place. When I do it, I always wake up with everything almost on the floor. Thankfully my last landlady always made the bed for me and at home, our maid.’
‘Would you like me to show you?’ asked Judith.
‘Would you? That would be super. I’m not very good at housewifely things. My mother despairs.’
Judith pursed her lips.
‘I can’t sew or knit.’ Evelyn gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘But men aren’t expected to, are they?’
‘I suppose not,’ said Judith, never having thought about it before. Judith shook out Evelyn’s sheets and smoothed both over the bed, tucking one end underneath the mattress and pulling out the side and folding it to make the neat hospital corner.
‘Now you try.’
Evelyn mimicked her movements.
‘No, no,’ said Judith. ‘You need to pull it tighter.’ She took the sheet corner from Evelyn’s hand and pulled it taut. ‘See.’
Evelyn nodded and immediately moved up to the head of the bed to try herself. This time she made a much better fist of it and smiled with satisfaction.
‘Thank you, Judith. I think I’ve got it.’
‘Except you’ve tucked in both sheets,’ said Judith tightly, irritated by her incompetence. ‘The top you leave open so that you can get inside.’
Then to her surprise Evelyn began to laugh. ‘I’m such a ninny! Honestly. No wonder Mummy and Mrs Dawtry think I’m so useless. It’s because I am.’ She laughed harder and Judith had to smile. It sho
wed a touch of humility that she hadn’t thought Evelyn was capable of and Judith felt a little chastened that she’d rushed to judge her. They’d both been pitched into a situation not of their making and they all had to get on and make the best of it. It wasn’t Evelyn’s fault that she came from a wealthy family and had never experienced any great tragedy in life.
‘Well, hello,’ came a voice from the open doorway and Judith recognised the girl from the train.
‘Betty!’ she said in surprise. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘Me neither. Got the surprise of my life when they said I was to be billeted here.’ She looked round and her eyes brightened. ‘This is all right, isn’t it? Lawks, what luxury. My own bed.’ With a cheerful grin, she slung her tatty kitbag onto the free bed. ‘At home I have to share with my sister and she doesn’t half fidget.’
‘Betty, this is Evelyn,’ said Judith, feeling a rare sense of being in the know. Normally she was the outsider looking in when everyone else knew each other.
In two quick strides, Evelyn crossed to Betty’s bed and held out her hand.
‘Evelyn Brooke-Edwards, pleased to meet you.’
‘Betty Connors.’ She took Evelyn’s hand and dipped in a funny little curtsy as if Evelyn were royalty or something. Judith shook her head. She’d found it hard to get to grips with the English class system, and here she was, plumb in the middle. Neither one thing nor the other.
‘Lawks, you’re an officer.’ Betty stared at the stripes on Evelyn’s sleeves. ‘Feel like I’ve gone up in the world. Never thought I’d be staying in this house.’ She looked around the room. ‘I remember when Ethel and Doris roomed up here. They were her Ladyship’s dresser and parlourmaid.’
‘You know the house?’ asked Evelyn, sitting down on Betty’s bed. ‘Do tell.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Betty, tossing her golden curls, which next to Evelyn’s looked a lot brassier. ‘I lived in the village nearly all my life, until I got posted to Mill Hill when I joined the ATS.’ Her smile dimmed. ‘I’m going to miss London. But I’m glad that I’m staying here and not at home.’
