The Secrets of Latimer House

by Jules Wake

  Skirting the group, she moved towards the bar and asked for three cocktails and before anyone could stop her or wonder where she was going, she glided out of the room with a small tray and down the hall to the secret passage that Betty had revealed the day before. Her usual mischievous attitude asserted itself and she smiled, clutching the knowledge of the secret passage to herself like a naughty child. Glancing cautiously about, making sure no one was in sight, she slipped behind the suit of armour and with her elbow managed to turn the piece of wood forming the latch. She crept forward into the gloom and waited for a moment while her eyes adjusted. When she’d come down here last night she’d discovered that there was some ambient light and, on the staircases, light switches.

  Hurrying along, careful not to spill the drinks, she climbed the two flights of stairs and then paused at the wooden door that opened out onto the final hallway, mentally crossing her fingers that no one was about when she emerged. Peeping out, she hissed out a small sigh of relief. The coast was clear and she scurried to the servants’ stairs at the end of the corridor.

  ‘Home and dry,’ she said to herself as mounted the stairs. From this point on, the little room tucked under the eaves was their own private eyrie, especially with the rooftop access and their own personal terrace with a view. No one but the three of them had any reason to come up here and she rather liked the fact that her two roommates were so different from her. It was a welcome change because the people downstairs, like so many she’d mixed with all her life, were all the same. They came from the same sort of families, had the same expectations and the same narrow views. She liked Betty’s wide-eyed, open honesty. The fact that she blurted things out without thinking was refreshing. Judith she found fascinating, although she was harder to read, but since Evelyn had lived in Germany too, they had some common ground. Evelyn had loved rural Germany before the Nazis got their stranglehold on the place. Over the years, she’d made some good friends there. It seemed impossible to believe that those people were now supposed to be her enemies.

  She entered the room with the sort of flourish people expected of Evelyn Brooke-Edwards, her self-indulgent moping over. ‘Ladies, I’ve brought some refreshments because if, like me, you’ve had a killer day, then we deserve them.’

  Betty sprang to her feet. ‘I think I might have fallen in love with you. Cocktails! You’re spoiling us.’

  ‘No Baccarat glasses?’ teased Judith.

  ‘No, but the finest pink gin cocktails known to the Navy.’ She held out the tray.

  ‘What shall we drink to tonight?’ asked Judith.

  ‘To me keeping my job,’ said Betty with a huge grin. ‘And getting promoted.’

  ‘Really? That’s wonderful.’ Judith took a drink and lifted it. ‘To Betty.’

  ‘To Betty,’ repeated Evelyn.

  ‘To me,’ said Betty, beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘So tell us what happened?’

  ‘Let’s go out on the balcony.’ Betty was already on her way to the window. Evelyn smiled; ‘balcony’ was rather grand for the small area that could just accommodate the three of them sitting down.

  It was however an excellent suggestion. The early summer sunshine had heated the tiles on the roof and they held the latent warmth of the day as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

  Once settled Betty lifted her glass in another toast. ‘To our private balcony. And no planes today.’ There’d been quite a few overhead in the last couple of weeks but nothing to cause alarm.

  ‘So you are still a typist?’ Judith leaned back against the sloping roof.

  ‘No! I’m not. I am now…’ she paused for effect, her big blue eyes almost as wide as Grandmama’s best tea plates, ‘an analyst. Honestly, it was such a surprise. Major Wendermeyer… Do you know him?’ She sighed and looked dreamily up at the sky. Evelyn exchanged a quick look with Judith, who rolled her eyes but in a motherly sort of way rather than with out-and-out disapproval. ‘He’s quite a dish. He looks like a young Gary Cooper. And he’s with the USAF. Anyway, I had to go see him and I swear to God, I thought he was going to have me transferred or court martialled or sent to jail.’ She clutched at her heart in the most dramatic fashion but Evelyn remembered exactly how she’d felt when she thought the same not so long ago. ‘I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.’

  Evelyn had heard the other girl tossing and turning when she’d lain awake for several hours but she’d been taught not to interfere, not to ask questions, to make the best of things. Now she regretted it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Betty. I know what that feels like. I thought before I came here, I was going to be court martialled.’

  ‘You?’ said both Judith and Betty in unison.

  She grinned at them, able to find it funny now that she was well and truly on the other side of the affair. ‘I’ll tell you all about it, when Betty has finished telling us her news.’

  Betty was only too eager to step back into the spotlight. ‘Well, my heart damn near exploded out of my chest when he started asking me what I thought about what I’d read and asked if I could elaborate on my views. It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about. So I figured by that stage I’d got nothing to lose and any idiot could see what was what. I told him straight.’ She let out a delighted giggle. ‘And now I’m going to be reading all the … the things and making reports on my observations about what’s been said by who and how they all link up. He said I had a good eye and sharp instincts.’ Evelyn bit back a smile; she could tell that Betty was bursting with pride. ‘And I don’t have to type anything up anymore. I have to read everything and write up what I think. How’s that? Me, Betty Connors, he thinks I’ve got opinions worth listening to.’ She looked quite incredulous. ‘Me!’

  Evelyn shook her head. ‘You should have more confidence in yourself. You’re a smart girl. The powers that be have recognised it.’

  Betty snorted disbelievingly. ‘It’s just common sense.’ Then she giggled. ‘But I’m so made up and I got promoted.’ She tapped the single stripe on her arm. ‘You’ll never believe this, but to sergeant!’

  ‘That is wonderful,’ said Judith. Evelyn glanced at her. Was she the only one that had noticed that Judith had been promoted to sergeant as soon as she’d arrived?

  ‘My ma might even be impressed. I’ll be seeing her the day after tomorrow. I’m going onto the night shift for a week.’

  ‘Same here,’ said Evelyn. ‘What about you, Judith?’

  ‘I don’t know. I forgot to look at the rota.’

  ‘When you find out, perhaps we should do something together. I’ve got my car and if I don’t use the petrol ration for this month, I’ll lose it.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Betty, with a disappointed grimace. ‘That sounds a lot more fun, but I promised Ma I’d go visit.’

  ‘Not to worry, maybe next week.’

  When Colonel Myers walked into the briefing the following morning everyone fell silent. Before his arrival the room had buzzed with rumours that a large contingent of soldiers from North Africa were on their way.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the first convoy of German soldiers from Tunisia will be arriving tomorrow. I’m afraid it’s going to be an extremely busy few days. We’ll be working extra hours to process everyone.’

  Evelyn, like the others in the room, stiffened, not with disappointment – there wasn’t a single groan from around the room – but with that alert, we-have-a-job-to-do attitude that characterised the unit. As she exchanged glances with a couple of others, she felt that shared sense of pride in the work they were doing.

  ‘I’d like to divide you into two teams. We have one group of POWs who fought under General Von Arnim, and morale among them is strong, while the second group served under General Hager. They are disillusioned and disaffected.’ For the rest of the briefing, he explained what the tactics would be in questioning the new arrivals and who would be in which team.

  When she went out to her first interview she saw that security had already been incre
ased and when she crossed the checkpoint at the fence she saw that there were a lot more soldiers on patrol than she’d seen before. She hurried across the damp grass towards the interview block, clutching her notes from the briefing. After nearly four weeks, she felt like an old hand and quite confident in herself.

  As soon as she entered, a Captain at the door motioned to her.

  ‘Ah, Lieutenant Brooke-Edwards. Do you have a moment?’

  She could hardly say no, but they were all aware of the pressure each member of the section was under to get through as many interrogations as they could. Top brass wanted to ship out a number of prisoners to make room for the North Africa men.

  ‘Colonel Myers has sent down a message. He’d like to see you at lunchtime.’

  ‘Oh, right-ho.’ Why hadn’t he said anything in the briefing? She put it to the back of her mind; she had a job to do. She made her way to interview room 4 and, as always when she approached the door, wondered what she’d find on the other side. This work certainly gave you an insight into the thoughts of one’s fellow man.

  Today the prisoner was angry and defiant. He didn’t want to answer any of her questions, and instead demanded to know where he was and what had happened to his fellow officers. He made it quite plain that he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  ‘I will die a man of honour,’ he said for the third time, at which point Evelyn realised that he thought he was going to be executed.

  ‘This isn’t a death camp,’ she snapped sharply. ‘The British have honour. We don’t murder fellow soldiers. This is a prisoner-of-war camp where you will be treated with dignity and respect. Are you able to say that the Tunisian people were accorded the same treatment?’

  He sneered.

  ‘I thought not. I have nothing more to say to you.’ She curled her lip in disgust and he stared at her in amazement.

  Sometimes harsh words worked better. She rose and walked out. ‘Take him back to his cell.’

  ‘Wait,’ the man called.

  She eyed him with utter disdain.

  ‘What will happen to me?’

  ‘That depends on how you co-operate. If you’ve got nothing worth telling us, you’ll be shipped out to a camp that is much less pleasant than this one.’ She said this knowing that he was about to be placed in a cell with another prisoner who’d been here a while. She’d also deliberately given him an easy ride, knowing that it was likely that he’d say plenty to his new cellmate about how ineffective his first interrogation had been. No doubt he would also boast about what he did know and wasn’t going to reveal. She smiled to herself as she walked out of the room. This early part of the interrogation process often paid dividends and she had a good feeling about this one. She went back to the general office where she sat down and wrote a very quick note about the meeting and a note to the M Section to listen in to M1636. After only a couple of weeks she’d developed good instincts about the prisoners and to date, she’d been pretty accurate in her early assessments of those who’d deliver good intelligence. Even Lieutenant Colonel Weston was impressed with her psychological understanding of the prisoners. Funny how everything about the war was rather beastly but her job brought her great satisfaction and interest. What would her life have been like if it hadn’t been for the war? She had an unpleasant feeling that she might have found herself rather bored. And now she had to go and see Myers. What on earth was that about?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Judith

  Judith came into the Mess on her own this morning. Betty and Evelyn had swapped shifts and were both still in bed when Judith left their room. Elsie greeted her with a smile and said the next lot of porridge would be out very soon. She nodded her thanks to the ever cheerful woman and her stomach rumbled in anticipation, which made her laugh to herself. Just one of the things she’d grown to like in this country, the hot coarse oatmeal porridge that was very different from that at home.

  Across the room someone waved and she recognised Frida, one of the other listeners from her shift. Over the last few weeks she’d gradually got to know more of them and although they rarely talked about what they’d left behind, she would guess most had similar tales to tell. Nearly all of them had come to England from Germany since 1937. On the whole, they were a friendly but often serious bunch. It was hard going listening all day. It took a huge amount of concentration, so when they broke for tea or lunch, there might be a lot of light-hearted, silly chatter but it never did more than scratch the surface and Judith knew better than to ask.

  As she sat down, she realised that Walther was also sitting there.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, raising his mug of tea.

  ‘Morning,’ she replied, suddenly shy.

  ‘Where is your friend? The film-star girl.’

  ‘Betty? Is that what you call her?’ Judith smiled thinly, thinking that Betty would like the description. ‘She’s on nights this week.’

  ‘Not me, some of the other men. I prefer brunettes.’ One corner of his mouth quirked as he said it.

  ‘Oh,’ said Judith, not knowing how to respond. ‘That’s nice.’

  He nodded. ‘There’s a shift swap coming up, do you know what yours will be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You haven’t looked? Don’t you want to have some free time during the day?’

  She shrugged. ‘It makes no difference to me. I wouldn’t have anything to do or anywhere to go.’

  ‘But we are so close to London, the train is less than an hour. Or there is the beautiful countryside. Amersham is a pretty place.’

  Judith rubbed at her thumb. The thought of going to London with no real reason didn’t appeal. What would she do there on her own all day?

  ‘You should enjoy a day out. Go out and smell the flowers, get some sunshine on your skin. It is good for you to take some time away from here.’

  She gave him a perfunctory smile. ‘Perhaps I’ll go for a walk in the village.’

  ‘That won’t take you very long. There’s really not a lot there. You have to walk to Little Chalfont to find a shop or a pub. There’s a lot more in Amersham but that’s about three miles away.’

  Judith nodded politely. What did he expect her to do? Go wandering about and get lost? And what about the animals? There were lots of sheep in the nearby fields – were they safe? Did they bite?

  He shook his head. ‘I can see I’m going to have to take you in hand. Let’s find out from Ralph when you’re on nights. He’s the warrant officer. Can you use a bicycle?’

  ‘Er, yes. I haven’t ridden one for a while.’

  ‘There is an English saying that you don’t forget how. I will find one for you.’

  She wished he’d leave her alone. He was being kind and she was grateful for that, but she really wasn’t used to being in the countryside. What if she did lose her way and then had to ask someone, and they thought she was a German spy or the enemy or something?

  Elsie brought over a steaming bowl of porridge and Judith gratefully gave it her attention, hoping that Walther would talk to someone else. Thankfully he obliged and began chatting away to the man opposite which allowed her to give him a covert study. A little older than her, he reminded her of an inquisitive bird with those dark, deep-set eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Although he had a ready smile and a wide mouth, there was a reticence about him.

  Just as she was finishing her breakfast, he rose and caught her watching him. He smiled and gave her a wave as he walked off.

  ‘I think he likes you,’ said Frida.

  ‘I don’t think so, he was just being friendly.’

  Frida rolled her eyes. ‘No, Judith, he wanted to know when you were off. And he was trying to find out what you might like to do. I think he wants to take you on a bicycle ride or to London.’

  Judith shook her head in denial.

  ‘Want to make a bet?’ asked Frida with a cheeky grin.

  ‘No,’ said Judith firmly. ‘I need to start work.’ She scooped up her cap and hurried off.
Frida could be a tease. She liked to make jokes and find the funny side of things. Sometimes Judith found it irritating, especially today. Walther was nice to her because she was on his team. They were colleagues and they were here to work and to help bring down the National Socialist regime that had destroyed their country. This was no time to be going for bicycle rides or trips to London. There was a war on.

  The warrant officer approached her that afternoon after tea in the Sergeants’ Mess. ‘Sergeant Stern. I understand you aren’t aware of the change in the off-duty rota.’ His face softened. ‘You are on nights for a few nights from Thursday.’

  She gave him a perfunctory nod of thanks and left the noisy dining room, wondering whether to go into the other part of the Sergeants’ Mess where everyone congregated in the evenings, playing cards or listening to the radio. Neither appealed and she found herself walking down a parquet-floored corridor just for the sake of walking. It looked as if it were a dead end but then she realised there was a door on the far right that was almost hidden from view. Keen to be by herself, she crept forward and carefully pushed open the large, heavy wooden door. It closed behind her with a soft thud, reinforcing the sensation of being sealed off from the rest of the house.

  The half-furnished room held a sad, melancholy air as if all the fine pieces had been removed, leaving the shell of a previous grandeur, the feeling akin to how she felt, as if she’d lost all the best pieces of herself. In her eyes, however, there was only one piece of furniture in the room – two, if you counted the stool. Her gaze was drawn to the wonderful grand piano bathed in sunlight streaming in from diamond-paned glass. It was framed by the heavy, plum velvet curtains draped elegantly on either side of the panelled dark-wood wainscoting of the deep bay window.

  She held her breath and crept over to the piano, running a hand over the patina of the glossy walnut-burr lid. She breathed out a tiny sigh of awe as she moved in front of it to read the gilt letters on the fall board. A Bechstein. Tears filled her eyes. It was so like the one her father had owned. Although she was almost too scared to touch it, her hands crept towards the ivory keys, longing consuming her. The silence of the room hung heavily as if it were waiting for something. Holding her breath, she lifted one finger and pressed the nearest key. The low C note vibrated loud and clear, filling the room with a delightful hum that made her heart bloom with sudden warmth. For a moment she let the delicious feeling of anticipation fill her, the expectation of the music already swirling in her head.