by Jules Wake
Surprised, she found it hard to find the right words for a moment, and even then they were incoherent at best. ‘Er … um … yes … sure … um, if you want to.’
‘Why would I not want to sit beside the prettiest girl around?’ he teased.
‘Shouldn’t you be with the other officers?’ she asked, ignoring the compliment, trying not to squirm at the foolish flutter in the base of her belly.
‘Why would I want to do that? Have you seen those guys? Old and grizzled.’ He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I don’t think any of them know the meaning of the word “fun”.’
‘And I do?’ She couldn’t help flirting back at him. There was something so appealing about that open, easy charm, even though he probably said the same sort of thing to every blue-eyed blonde that crossed his path.
‘You have a glint in your eye.’
‘I do, do I?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He paused. ‘And one of the sharpest brains to match, which I find kind of appealing.’
‘Oh,’ said Betty, taken aback. Those blue eyes that she found so blinking mesmerising twinkled at her. Honest to God, she’d never seen anything like them and when he looked at her like that, everything inside her wanted to get up and dance.
‘That’s taken the wind out of your sails, hasn’t it, honey?’
‘No,’ she said primly, although her pleased smile gave her away.
‘So, tell me, what do you do for entertainment when you’re not slaving over reports?’
‘Not that much. It’s quiet around here. Although London’s not so far away. You can get there and back before a shift or after a shift. There are some good shows in the West End.’
‘Well, that sounds swell, except I wouldn’t know where to go. Perhaps you could show me sometime?’
‘I… I…’ She was about to tell him that she was already taken but something stopped her. She didn’t owe Bert anything. Not anymore, and she knew she didn’t want to marry him. It wasn’t as if he’d ever asked her. Somehow it had been assumed by everyone, him as well, that they would wed one day. She clenched a hand on the grass beside her; she wouldn’t be assumed into a marriage with someone she realised she didn’t even like. With sudden resolve, she faced the American officer. ‘I’d love to show you London, Major.’
‘I think if you’re going to be my personal tour guide, you could think about calling me Carl, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Carl,’ she said with an impish grin.
Her tea went cold as she talked to him about the places he might like to see in London and it was nearly an hour later when she realised she was cutting it fine to change into her uniform for her shift.
‘I’ve got to go. Gosh, sorry. I have prattled on.’
‘Not at all. I could listen to your English accent all day.’ Those blue eyes held hers steadily and she almost forgot to breathe. ‘I forgot the time.’ He rose and held out a hand. ‘May I?’
Thinking the gesture courtly and romantic – he made her feel like a proper lady – she extended her hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Then she spoilt it by ducking back down, bottom in the air, to pick up her cup.
‘I’d have done that for you.’
She laughed and said without thinking, ‘Instead of me sticking my bottom in your face.’ As soon as the words left her mouth, she flushed scarlet. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t, that was the problem. It had been so easy talking to him, she’d completely forgotten who he was. Her commanding officer and a man who wasn’t part of her family.
‘It’s a pretty nice bottom.’
Her eyes widened. No man had ever said anything like that before. Of course, she knew Americans were much more forward, but even so, she hoped he didn’t think she was fast or something.
‘I must go,’ she said and dashed off, the cup rattling in its saucer as she ran towards the house, rather too much like Cinderella for her liking, her heart thundering because she’d made such a twit of herself.
‘Sergeant Connors, would you mind coming to attend a meeting?’ There was an air of suppressed excitement in the Lieutenant’s words as if he were hoarding a great secret and his face had that exceptional blandness that was clearly hiding something. ‘Now.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, instantly rising from her desk and grabbing her hat, a little puzzled but definitely feeling a lot more confident about attending. At the last one she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself and they were inviting her back. Gathering up the most recent reports she’d been analysing, she followed the officer and another sergeant downstairs to the library. A couple of people were loitering outside the door trying to look busy with folders of paper and there was a hush among them as if they were listening hard for something. It reminded Betty of the annual occasions when Lord Chesham had come to the village school and all the pupils were wheeled out to stand in front of the building to have their photograph taken.
Wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of cigar smoke, she walked into what used to be the dining room, keeping her head down as she made for the far end of the grand, highly polished table which had been extended to its full size. She remembered it being laid with glistening crystal, polished silver, candle-laden epergnes and dish upon dish of food when the Cheshams had people for dinner. Today there were nearly as many people around the—
Oh giddy aunt. It was Winnie!
Winston Churchill, clear as day, sat at the other end of the table flanked by Colonel Myers, Commander Todd and two men she didn’t recognise. Just to the left sat Major Wendermeyer, for once looking serious and stern.
Betty tried not to stare. It was that or pinch herself. She was in the same room as Winston Churchill and she couldn’t even tell her ma. Or anyone, ever. There was a shuffling of chairs and Colonel Myers called the meeting to order. Betty prayed that no one asked her any questions. She’d die of fright. The Prime Minister looked exactly like he did in the photographs she’d seen, except he seemed very short and his hands were tiny. But the familiar gruff voice more than made up for it as it boomed down the table.
‘Thank for all your hard work, ladies and gentlemen. The work you are doing here is vital to the war effort. I and my cabinet are indebted to the information that has been forthcoming. This intelligence is the very linchpin on which we base our strategic plans and it directs and informs much of our strategy. Unfortunately, I cannot share them with you but we have great plans afoot based on the intelligence that has been so timely delivered by CSDIC. I must congratulate you on the intelligence work that has helped us to piece together the existence of yet more of the odious apparatus of the Nazis, those secret flying weapons. They may be congratulating themselves on their plans to destroy our way of life, our Christian civilisation, but thanks to your efforts, we will strike at the heart of their plans. Without your work here, we would be in the dark. You have given us light. Your work will deliver Victory.’
The stirring speech left the room utterly silent. Betty could almost feel her heart pounding in her chest and she didn’t dare move for a moment in case it disturbed the weighty hush that had fallen.
Then Colonel Myers rose and said he was proud of his team but she wasn’t listening, her ears were still ringing from the Prime Minister’s words. She pushed her shoulders back, bolstered by a definite sense of pride. She’d been involved in analysing the transcripts that helped piece together a detailed report about what they’d discovered regarding the secret weapons and could remember, clear as day, the rudimentary picture of a ramp and a rocket. It had looked like something H. G. Wells might have dreamed up and she didn’t believe that such things were possible, but the German prisoner whose conversation was included in the transcript sounded excited and confident about the flying bomb.
Betty was glad that her family weren’t in London. If Hitler really did have these things, it would be terrifying. There would be no plane formations crossing the Channel that enabled the Observer Corps to send warning to Air Wardens. The idea filled her with dread, as it
did nearly all the people around the table.
For the rest of the meeting discussion focused on the numbers of prisoners coming through, the current fronts of battle and strategic defence plans. Betty listened hard and across the table spotted Evelyn listening equally intently. It was fascinating to see the Prime Minister in action when she’d only ever heard his words on the radio before.
When the meeting drew to a close, he shook each of their hands and thanked them for their work and Betty found herself out in the hall at the bottom of the staircase standing beside Evelyn, her hand gripping the polished banister as if trying to ground herself back in reality.
‘Can you believe that?’ asked Evelyn, seeming as awestruck as she was.
‘No. Did it really just happen?
‘It did. And I can’t even tell Mummy.’
Betty laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
Evelyn linked her arm through Betty’s. ‘Do you think one day we might be able to tell our grandchildren that we met the Prime Minister during the war?’
‘I hope so. I don’t think my ma would believe me even if I was allowed to tell her.’
‘Ladies.’ Major Wendermeyer stopped them. ‘An interesting meeting.’
‘Was it ever?’ said Evelyn.
‘Oh, this is my…’ Betty ground to a halt.
‘… friend,’ interrupted Evelyn with a nudge, pulling a teasing, chiding face at Betty.
‘This is my friend, Lieutenant Evelyn Brooke-Taylor,’ said Betty.
‘Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Major Wendermeyer, United States Air Force. And what did you think of the Prime Minister?’ He turned his attention to Betty after giving Evelyn the briefest of nods.
Betty stared at him, expecting him to want to speak to Evelyn; after all, she was the more senior officer. Evelyn nudged her again and she found her tongue.
‘I thought he was … very small.’
The Major laughed. ‘Ah, Betty! You always nail it. Sure was a privilege to meet him, though.’
‘It was nice of him to thank us. Especially when we’re just doing our jobs. That’s never happened to me before.’
‘I think perhaps because we’re doing extraordinary work here,’ he replied.
‘I’ll agree with that,’ said Evelyn, but the Major barely looked at her, which was most odd. Couldn’t he see that she was the swan next to Betty’s paddling duck? But he seemed far more interested in smiling at Betty.
Then another officer walked past. ‘Carl, you ready for a drink?’
‘Be right there.’
‘I think I’ll go and search out a pink gin,’ said Evelyn. ‘Nice to meet you, Sir.’ She moved away and behind him she mouthed, ‘Nice,’ to Betty and put both thumbs up and winked before she disappeared into the Officers’ Mess.
‘Shame I can’t invite you for a drink,’ said the Major with a shake of his head as if he were genuinely disappointed. ‘But we’ll make up for it when we go into London. How do you fancy one day next week? I believe we have the same shift pattern.’
‘We have?’ she asked with a coy lift of her eyebrow, although inside she wasn’t half as collected.
‘I might have used my influence to fix it.’
She laughed and pointed out, ‘We’re always on the same shift pattern.’
‘Hell, you caught me. I was trying to impress you.’
Betty swallowed and admitted in a small voice, ‘You don’t need to do that. I’m already impressed.’ While on the outside it might look as if she liked to play games, inside honesty counted all the way. She might have grown up poor but her dad had instilled good values and telling the truth was one of them. ‘I must go back to work.’ She pulled a face. ‘Sergeant Major Baxter will be watching the clock again.’
‘Tell her the Major delayed you,’ he said.
She gave him a reproving look. ‘I’m not sure that would appease her. I don’t think she approves of you either.’
‘Hell no. I’m a foreigner and a Yank at that. Lucky for me she has no jurisdiction over the USAF, otherwise I might be in a whole heap of trouble.’
Another one of those unbidden giggles sneaked out. For an officer his levity was most misplaced but he had looked very serious in the meeting, so maybe when he was with other officers, he didn’t play the fool the way he did with her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Evelyn
Evelyn watched Betty fussing with her hair and sighed as she gave hers a cursory pat. She didn’t have the energy to fuss and primp this morning. It had been a long night, most of it spent staring up at the ceiling listening to the soft snuffles of her roommates while her mind turned things over and over and over.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Judith’s soft voice. ‘I heard you tossing and turning in the night.’
Evelyn gave her a weak smile. ‘Just tired. I didn’t sleep well at all.’
‘You’re worrying about something. I can tell.’
Evelyn considered her for a moment, tempted to confide in the two girls, but it would place intolerable burdens on them. They’d have to keep her secrets too and that wouldn’t be fair.
‘Just a work thing.’ She gave herself a quick look in the mirror, alarmed by the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘Think I’ll pop out for a smoke.’ She climbed onto the roof and stood studying the pink-stained sky and the dark trees silhouetted against it on the hillside on the far side of the valley. She took a long drag of the cigarette and watched the smoke curl upwards. She was due to have another meeting with Peter today. She’d had two now, the last one being fairly disastrous. For the thousandth time she wondered whether she should have told her commanding officer that she knew him. Of course, she bally well should have done. There was no doubt about it and now it was too late. She could kick herself for being such an idiot but then if she had done, she’d probably never have seen him again.
‘You coming down for breakfast?’ called Betty.
‘No, I’m not hungry. I’ll stay here a bit longer.’ Through the window she saw the other two exchange worried looks.
She stubbed out her cigarette and as soon as she heard them leave, lit up another one. Her biggest fear now was that Peter might inadvertently talk about her in his cell. He had a new cellmate this week, the last one having been transferred to a camp in Northampton. What if he confided in him? She couldn’t warn him. That would be a far worse crime than keeping her relationship with him a secret. She sucked in another drag on her cigarette, hating that she didn’t know what to do. One thing she did know was that she had to go downstairs very soon and face the day.
Unable to bear the thought of being stuck in an interview room with Peter, which last time had been awkward, their conversation strained, she decided to take him out for a walk again. On the previous occasion she’d met him, he’d not wanted to talk at all, still convinced that there were microphones in the room and it had turned into an interrogation with her putting questions to him that he refused to answer. She’d hated that feeling of being in a position of power over him; it made her deeply uncomfortable. Despite his recalcitrance, she’d lied on her post-interrogation report, saying that the conversation had gone well and that she’d found some commonality and that she was building a relationship that would dispose him to reveal more. Thankfully he’d given her enough small crumbs at that very first meeting for her to recommend that he stay at Latimer House for further questioning, but that couldn’t go on, if he refused to co-operate.
They walked in silence until they passed through the gate and moved away from the guards.
‘I still can’t believe that you can bring me out here, like this,’ he said.
‘It seemed better, although I’m not sure that the weather is on our side.’ There was a very dark cloud on the horizon which could be headed their way.
He reached for her hand and although she tried to pull away, it was half-hearted. ‘I’m not sure we should be doing that.’
‘Why not? What difference does it make?’
‘To me, if someone saw us, a huge amount.’
He gave a twisted smile. ‘You could tell them that you were seducing me for my secrets.’
‘I would never prostitute myself for my country.’ She tried to snatch away her hand, insulted that he could say that.
‘I’m sorry. That was unkind. I’m frustrated. You’re so close and yet you’re so far and I see no end in sight.’
‘There will be an end. You’ll be sent to another camp eventually.’
‘When?’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘When you are no longer useful to us.’
‘Ah, so that is how it works. And you would like me to be useful. That is convenient.’ His mouth twisted in that ugly smile again.
She sighed, possibly her hundredth sigh of the day. ‘The final decision will be out of my hands. It will be made on the strength of my reports.’
‘So you would have me prostitute myself?’
‘No,’ she said in a level voice. ‘Would you like to go back?’ She rubbed at her temple, trying to ease the headache building there. This was hopeless. Perhaps it was time for her to tell the truth to her superiors, explain that he wasn’t prepared to talk, and to have him sent on his way.
She jumped when he touched her face, his fingers swiping the purple shadows under her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. You are trying to do the right thing and I am being a difficult fool.’
‘It’s an impossible situation.’
‘No, it isn’t. What are a few secrets, to spend more time with you? Ask me what you want to know.’
‘You don’t have to—’
‘I want to. I owe it to you.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you are doing the job for your country. Because you are a woman of honour.’
‘But you’re a man of honour.’ She hated to take that away from him.
‘I’ve been thinking about that. A man of honour would do everything he could to end this war, to stop further bloodshed, to stop the madness. As would a woman of honour, and that is your purpose. To bring the war to an end. If I stay quiet I am doing the opposite, helping keep the war going. That is not the honourable thing to do.’
