by Jules Wake
‘And where are the people starving in the streets because of the Atlantic blockade?’
If only you knew, thought Evelyn, not moving a muscle, thinking of the paucity of rations that people like her landlady in Falmouth had to eke out each month.
‘What else isn’t the Führer telling us?’ said Peter, almost angrily.
‘He has been misinformed. There are too many yes men around him. That fool Von Ribbentrop, for one.’
Peter laughed. ‘He is a complete idiot. How he convinced Hitler that he had the ear of Chamberlain, I do not know. The man surrounded himself with even bigger British idiots. One only needed to know the smallest amount about British politics before the war to realise that he had no understanding of how things here worked.’
‘You sound knowledgeable about such things, Oberst.’
‘I have been to England many times, General,’ said Peter mildly in response to the Lieutenant General’s suspicious tone. Was the more senior man trying to probe as to whether Peter had been a spy? ‘I visited a place called Henley on Thames, several times.’
Evelyn had to pinch her lips tight and pray that he wouldn’t mention her name or her parents. Thank goodness Myers wasn’t in the car.
‘So you have sympathies with the British?’ asked Schmidt.
‘I know many British people but I am loyal to Germany. I might not agree with our leading party but they have brought us national pride. We can hold our heads high again.’
‘We certainly can, although I am not so convinced that Britain is going to be as easy to invade as has been suggested. There is nothing here to suggest a country that will capitulate easily.’
‘I agree. We have been misled over the amount of damage that has been done by the Luftwaffe.’
Evelyn deserved an Oscar for her performance that afternoon. Betty would be inordinately proud of her. Not so much as a twitch crossed her face as the two men talked quite openly, oblivious to the fact that she understood every word.
‘I’m quite confused,’ said Schmidt. ‘I would have expected to have been interrogated by the British but they seem to be disinterested. Apart from being asked my name, rank and personal information, they don’t seem to be very worried.’
‘No, that is strange. It is not the approach we use to deal with prisoners of war.’
‘But perhaps this is the calm before the storm. So that we lower our guard, thinking that this is how we’ll be treated and then the torture will begin.’
‘If that happens we need to remind them of the Geneva Convention protocols.’
Schmidt snorted. ‘The way that we adhere to them! Have you been to a camp?’
She might not be able to see Peter stiffen but she knew from his frigid tone that he had. ‘I have had the misfortune to visit one of the camps. I would hope that men of the Wehrmacht behave with honour to their fellow soldiers.’
‘Van Hoensbroeck, are you so naive?’
‘I don’t like what is happening in the camps. But the SS are barbarians. They are not soldiers.’
Evelyn blinked, listening avidly, but suddenly, as if aware of her, both men shut up and Schmidt changed the subject. It didn’t matter, she’d heard enough to brief Myers on both men’s frame of mind. And now she was going to have to report back on the man she’d once promised to marry.
When they pulled back into the rear entrance of the house after a long morning, there were two armed soldiers at the checkpoint ready to escort the Germans back to their cells. Evelyn got out of the car, her hands shaking as she tugged her hat as low down over her eyes as she could. She was desperate to look at Peter but she knew if he recognised her, he’d know that she could speak German and it would ruin, in part, Myers’ tactics.
Slowly she stepped out of the car, all her senses attuned to Peter, mere inches away. She had to close her eyes for a moment to fight the wave of longing to reach out and touch him. It had been so long since she’d seen him.
Unable to resist, she turned, keeping her head low, and sneaked a peep. Her heart stalled in her chest and for a strange moment, she thought she might faint. She gripped the car door and straightened herself up, giving herself a stern talking to. Her fingers itched to trace the contours of his face, the strong firm chin which spoke so much of his strength of character, and that aquiline nose that had once nuzzled at her neck, inhaling the scent he’d bought her. She swallowed, noting his grim expression. The lines on his face had deepened and there was a small scar to the right of his mouth. Had he changed as much inside? Was he still the man she’d fallen in love with? That man had been strong, forthright and kind. He’d been a good man. Now she wasn’t so sure.
It sounded as if he supported Hitler even if he didn’t approve of some of his policies. The promises to restore German interests had been widely welcomed and a blind eye turned to his more fanatical policies. People had believed, perhaps because they wanted to believe it, that his worst excesses could be kept in check by the vast majority of decent Germans. Evelyn had seen at first hand how that hold on decency had been chipped away, how people like the Graf and Gräfin she’d stayed with in Bavaria had lived in fear of speaking out against the Nazis and how their own son had been brainwashed by the Hitler Youth movement.
In his uniform, Peter looked so different – a man now. The last four years had worn away the softer lines of his face, hardening his features, and his shoulders seemed to have broadened. Her pulse quickened and she had to quash the sudden, desperate longing to feel his arms around her and the fierce ache to feel his lips on hers. This could be the last time she’d ever see him, and he didn’t even know it was her. There was a strong chance he might only be here a matter of days before being sent on to a permanent prisoner-of-war camp. Panic rose, her throat tightening. She’d never thought she’d see him again and now he was here, within touching distance, but as out of reach as ever.
The guardsmen stepped up to escort him and Peter turned away from her, already walking towards the house. She sucked in a gasp of air and watched him.
‘P—’
‘Edwards. My office,’ said Myers, a sharp snap in his voice.
A blush burned up her cheeks as she turned to her commanding officer. ‘Sir.’ Did he suspect? Did he know? It wouldn’t surprise her. He seemed to know everything.
But Myers climbed back into the car and didn’t even give her a second glance.
She straightened and gave Peter’s figure one last regretful look as he and the Lieutenant General were escorted away to the checkpoint in the perimeter fence. Then she got back in the car to drive slowly round to the front entrance of the house. It was important the prisoners didn’t see the house and they couldn’t from their cell blocks. There was a terrible irony in that General Von Ribbentrop had actually stayed numerous times at the house when he was German Ambassador to London, and it was always a worry that a prisoner might recognise the house, which would increase the risk of an escape attempt.
From the car they went straight up to Myers’ office where she repeated almost word for word what the two men had said in the car.
‘Excellent work, Lieutenant. That gives us a view into their mindsets. The Lieutenant General is clearly very shocked and that gives us a good way of prying him open. We can feed on the fear that Hitler has not been honest with them. The younger man, Van Hoensbroeck, seems to have a sharper grasp on reality, however.’ Myers smiled. ‘It would appear that you and he have a connection.’
Evelyn gripped her knees tightly together. All she could do was nod. How much trouble was she in?
‘Didn’t you tell me that you knew Heidelberg?’
She glanced up at his face, realising that he hadn’t meant what she thought he’d meant.
‘Er, yes, Sir.’
‘I think that will give you common ground. I’d like you to take the lead on interviewing him over the next few days.’
‘Me, Sir?’ Her heart skittered out of control in her chest, sure he must be able to see her consternation.
‘Yes.’
She stared at him. The thought of coming face to face with Peter both horrified and excited her.
What on earth would she say to him? Could she even do her job properly? Where did her loyalty lie? To the man she loved or to her country?
‘I think appealing to his values of decency and honour will have considerable traction. If we can share some of our intelligence on the atrocities that are being committed in the name of Germany, we might get him to co-operate quite fully. Also having demonstrated that Britain isn’t suffering so badly, it will convince him that the war is far from being won by Germany, especially after the collapse of the North Africa campaign. What do you think?’
Her mind was in such a whirl, it was difficult to think about anything but she managed to keep her composure and nod, and was grateful when he stopped there. ‘I think we’ll reconvene in the morning and discuss strategy in more depth, but what do you think?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Excellent work, both on the driving and the listening in. You really are shaping up to be an excellent operative. I’m delighted you were able to join us. Reports of your treatment of commanding officers were greatly exaggerated.’ His eyes twinkled as he looked at her, reminding her that she didn’t have an entirely unblemished service record. She ought to confess here and now that she knew Peter. That would have been the right thing to do, but then they might stop her seeing him, and she wanted to see him more than anything else in the world.
Chapter Nineteen
Judith
‘Here, you should wear this.’ Betty thrust a plaid skirt with a single pleat at the front towards her. ‘It’s Norman Hartnell.’
Judith looked at her blankly.
‘The Queen’s designer. He’s designed it for the utility range.’ She pointed to a curious two-pieces-of-cheese design on the label which Judith now recognised as being the logo from the Board of Trade that showed an item met the government’s austerity regulations. ‘It will look marvellous with that jumper.’
Judith was about to refuse but Betty was right, the cherry-red checks of the skirt would be perfect with her newly completed jumper. She had stayed up an extra hour to finish it last night, while Betty had insisted on painstakingly pin-curling her hair. The jumper, knitted from a pattern she’d seen in Good Taste magazine, was a little snugger than she would normally have chosen for herself but she didn’t have the time to unpick it and both Evelyn and Betty assured her that it was the latest fashion and that she’d look like the cat’s pyjamas. A phrase she’d not heard before. She tried to imagine a cat wearing pyjamas and couldn’t. It was too ridiculous.
‘Let me brush your hair out. You need a roll-in at the front, give you a bit of height. I could put a filler in for you, if you’d like.’
‘I’m going out on a bicycle for the day,’ she protested, pushing a hand through the loose waves Betty had created for her with the overnight pin curls. They felt rather marvellous and she was secretly quite pleased with how they’d come out. Betty and Evelyn both always looked so well put together. Betty with that touch of glamour and Evelyn ever elegant. It was wrong to be envious of them but there’d been so many times she’d wished she had an ounce of their style.
‘I’m very good with a bobby pin. Just you see.’
Under normal circumstances Judith would have declined but it was the first time in a couple of days that she’d seen Betty so animated. The other girl had been rather subdued since she’d visited her mother and it didn’t take a detective to see that she was favouring her right hand and was extra careful when she moved, particularly when she stood up or sat down. It reminded her of a time when her father had been knocked to the ground outside his shop one evening. He’d been stiff and sore for a few days, while she’d been boiling mad at the injustice of an old man being taunted by fascist thugs. Even though she hadn’t said anything, Judith had been shocked by the bruises she’d seen when Betty had changed into her nightgown the previous night.
As she had another hour before she was due to meet Walther, and Betty seemed to have found her spirit again, she acquiesced although she did draw the line at borrowing Betty’s very red lipstick. ‘It’s just a bicycle ride with a friend,’ she said severely. Betty’s lips twitched.
‘Course it is, darlin’,’ she said in an American accent. ‘Now hold still while I finish your hair.’
By the time Betty’s nimble fingers had finished rolling and pinning, Judith almost didn’t recognise herself. The smart hairstyle, with the rolls of hair pinned on either side of her head, enhanced the shape of her face, giving her sharper cheekbones, and even – though it was vain to admit it – made her look pretty. What would her father have said? Would he have been proud of her? She’d only been seventeen when she’d left Germany, barely a young woman. She pushed back the threatening sadness that he’d never seen her grow up to become who she was now.
‘You look beautiful, Judith,’ said Betty with a heartfelt smile, reaching up to touch her cheek. ‘Really lovely. I hope you have a nice day. Walther is a nice man.’ Her face sobered. ‘And they are worth diamonds.’ Judith caught her hand, worried by the shadows in Betty’s eyes.
She wanted to say something, to offer … support? Comfort? She wasn’t sure what but she didn’t feel brave enough to raise it with Betty. Perhaps she’d have a quiet word with Evelyn.
‘Go and have a super time,’ said Betty.
Judith left her and despite her misgivings about her roommate, skipped down the stairs, feeling quite chipper, one of her favourite English words. It was a lovely sunny day and she had no expectation of the day. She’d enjoy giving her brain some time off.
Walther was waiting for her outside the kitchen with Elsie.
‘Oh, look at you, don’t you look fine,’ said Elsie. ‘I do love seeing you girls in mufti. It makes you into real people, if that doesn’t sound too strange.’
With surprise, Judith realised that she knew exactly what Elsie meant. It was one of the many nice things about life at Latimer House. The rules were more relaxed and much less strict, especially about having to wear uniform when you weren’t on duty. Today she felt like a real person instead of the automaton she’d become, putting one foot in front of the other day after day, plodding through life. She was actually looking forward to the day, even though she hadn’t been on a bicycle for years.
‘Thank you for lending your bicycle.’
‘It’s not a problem at all,’ said Elsie. ‘Once upon a time I’d have made you a nice picnic to take with you. Now off you go and enjoy yourself.’ She shooed them with the skirt of her apron as if they were a pair of naughty children, for which Judith was extremely grateful. It took any awkwardness away from the moment when she had to finally confront Walther.
‘Guten Morgen,’ he said. ‘You do look very nice. That is a good colour.’
She was delighted that instead of blushing she was able to accept the compliment.
‘I made it from the wool of a cardigan that belonged to my aunt. I think you would have found her interesting. She was very Bohemian and interested in architecture and art and music. She lived in Berlin and performed in a very risqué bar.’ Judith couldn’t seem to stop talking. ‘She was, as the British would say, very naughty. She performed burlesque.’ And for some reason wearing the jumper made from her aunt’s cardigan made her feel brave. Neither Evelyn nor Betty seemed afraid of living or enjoying life; maybe it was time for her to do the same.
‘She sounds very interesting. My aunt was a schoolteacher. She went to America.’
‘My aunt died in 1932. She would have hated the Nazis and I think would have been arrested many times.’
‘Shall we go?’
‘It’s a while since I’ve been on a bicycle, so you may have to be patient with me.’
‘We have all day and it is so nice to be outside in the fresh air. Sometimes I feel like a rabbit in a hutch all week. I’m glad the summer is here and we have the evenings to enjoy.’
Judit
h found a pedal with her foot and pushed off, wobbling slightly but pleased that she’d managed to keep her balance and move forward in a reasonably straight line. At least she hadn’t knocked Walther off his bike, she thought as they rode side by side up to the main road by the church.
‘Do you know, I haven’t seen the village since I arrived, but it looked very charming from the car on my first day.’ There, she’d opened the conversation, feeling rather proud of herself, especially when Walther responded easily.
‘It is very pretty. If you go the other way you reach Flaunden, another pretty village. They have a pub there. The Green Dragon, and would you believe it, but Von Ribbentrop was a regular visitor there when he was based in England.’
Judith shuddered at the thought of a high-ranking German official being here, being so close.
‘They say it’s a small world,’ said Walther thoughtfully. ‘I wonder sometimes if I might hear a prisoner that I once knew.’
‘I suppose it is possible,’ said Judith. ‘What would you do? Would you tell anyone?’
‘I think so. As long as I was honest about them and how they had behaved when I knew them, then that is the most important thing.’
They rode into the village, the sun bright on the white-and-black timber-framed buildings with their diamond-paned windows that she remembered from the first day she arrived. Walther drew to a stop at the village green, leaning on his handlebars, to point out the memorials built there.
‘One is the cenotaph for the Boer war. The other is dedicated to Lord Chesham’s horse.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘That is very British. They are very attached to their dogs and horses.’
‘Are they? I didn’t know that. Most of the time I’ve spent here has been in the cities. I thought I was being sent to somewhere in London when I came here because it was on the underground. I had no idea I would be in the countryside.’
