The Secrets of Latimer House

by Jules Wake

  She tilted her face to his and studied his serious blue eyes.

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  He took her face in both his hands. ‘As certain as the fact that I still love you.’ His fingers brushed her lips. ‘I love you.’ He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, her nose and then her lips before pulling back, tenderness in his eyes. ‘I’m so proud of you. You are a woman of principle. I know that this is a difficult situation for you. It’s far easier for me. It would have been easy for you to hand me over to someone else, I think.’

  She shook her head, tears blurring her eyes. ‘I couldn’t do it. I should have done.’

  He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as they picked their way across the tree roots, wandering along under the canopy of leaves. They came to a stile which led into a field and as they crossed, the first drops of rain began to fall. By mutual consent they continued, it was only a light shower, but by the time they reached the middle of the field, the heavens had opened and the rain came pounding down in a sudden rush.

  ‘Let’s run for it. To the cover of those trees on the other side.’ Running together they made for the thick wooded area with a number of big oaks which looked as if they might offer shelter. Despite the mad dash, Peter pulling her along, their feet tripping over the ploughed furrows of the field, they were soaked through by the time they reached the treeline.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Evelyn, wiping her dripping hair from her face and taking her hat off. ‘It reminds me of that time we were in Switzerland.’

  ‘And we had to take refuge in that shepherd’s stone hut. And your cousin almost set fire to the place.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘At least we had a fire to warm us up.’

  He put his arm around her. ‘I’ll do my best. Undo your jacket. We can share body heat.’

  Without questioning it she undid the buttons on her double-breasted wet jacket. He did the same and pushed his aside, pulling her to his chest. Through her thin shirt she felt the warmth of his skin and it seemed totally natural to fit her body to his, her arms around his waist.

  He groaned. ‘You feel so wonderful. I’ve missed you. This. It’s been so long.’

  ‘It has,’ she murmured, brushing her lips across his slightly bristled chin, all the pent-up longing inside threatening to burst free. They’d never anticipated their vows, although temptation had driven them close a few times. If it hadn’t been for the war they would have been married by now.

  He dropped kisses across her throat, loosening her tie knot and undoing the top buttons of her shirt to give him access to her collar bone. She closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his skin and the graze of his chin. How long had it been since she fizzed with this – this intensely alive sensation? It was as if she’d been going through the motions for the last four years, locked in a state of grieving, putting on a brave face to the world.

  ‘Peter,’ she sighed, her body softening against him.

  His mouth returned to hers and their kisses deepened as her hands roved up his back, stroking through his shirt the muscles that had firmed considerably since she’d last held him. She heard him groan and his tongue touched hers in a familiar dance that she gave herself up to.

  He pressed her closer, nimble fingers opening more buttons on her shirt and his fingers skimming tantalisingly across the swell of her chest. Her mother would be horrified but she wanted more, she wanted him to touch her. When his fingers dipped lower she gasped out loud but then moaned at the electric touch which was heaven and hell. Shocking and thrilling. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself but she ached for more. Ached so much that it was almost painful. She kissed him more fiercely, holding him tighter as if that might help the terrible need that drove her hips to grind against him. She could feel the hardness against her and instinct drove her to rub her hand over his groin, revelling in the guttural groan that he let out before he rasped in her ear, ‘Oh, Evelyn.’

  Their harsh breaths punctuated the woodland sounds of the spatter of raindrops on leaves and the accompaniment of cooing wood pigeons. Then his hand swooped down over hers.

  ‘Evelyn, liebling, we have to stop.’

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said, trying to wriggle her hand out of his grasp. ‘I don’t want to.’

  He dropped his forehead on hers. ‘You will surely kill me. We must stop.’

  ‘Why?’ She knew it was foolhardy and against all the teaching she’d been brought up with but how could this be wrong? Two people who loved each other, who could be parted at any moment.

  ‘This is a line you can’t ever cross. I’m the enemy. And I don’t want to be a father when I’m still a prisoner.’

  ‘We might not have a baby,’ she said desperately.

  ‘We might. And how would that be for you? What would you tell people?’

  ‘I’d tell people you were my fiancé and that this hateful war is all that stopped us being married.’ Tears pooled in her eyes. It was all so unfair. ‘I love you.’

  ‘And I love you, but this isn’t possible.’ He put a hand under her chin and lifted it so that she had to look at him. ‘One day, I promise, we will be together.’

  She pulled away, scared that she was going to burst into tears. ‘God, I hate this bloody awful war.’

  ‘So let’s help finish it.’ Peter stroked her face and carefully did up her buttons one by one, kissing her on the mouth once each was safely closed. ‘I will tell you everything I can.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I do, my love. I do. It’s my promise to you. The sooner the war is over, the sooner we can be together again.’

  ‘It will be difficult.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘In the eyes of others, one of us will always be the enemy.’

  ‘I’m prepared to take that risk. And not everyone thinks like that.’ He took her hand and they began to walk again.

  The rain had slowed to a damp mizzle and as they walked back he began to tell her about the tank capabilities of the Panzer divisions in North Africa.

  By the time they reached the camp entrance, she had enough material to write a substantial report but it did nothing to balance the considerable weight of her heart, heavy in her chest.

  ‘Thank you, Peter,’ she said softly.

  He smiled and gave her a jaunty salute, saying for the benefit of the two guards who had come to collect him, ‘Until next time.’

  Evelyn prayed that there would be a next time. While she had some influence over the decision as to whether a prisoner should continue to be interrogated, there were always other priorities and new prisoners arriving all the time. It might be the very last time she saw him until heaven knew when. She wanted to call him back. Wanted to kiss him once more. Wanted to tell him that she’d wait for him, no matter what. But she didn’t.

  She was due to go straight into her next and last interrogation of the day, one that she wasn’t looking forward to. A small mean-spirited Nazi through and through, who had a malicious tongue and a seriously bad attitude. With no one around and with every excuse of needing to change out of her wet clothes, she hurried back to the house, hoping she wouldn’t meet anyone. Any minute her composure could crack and crumble.

  Once in her room, with tears falling, she undid her skirt, letting it drop to the floor, and sank onto the bed, peeling off her sopping jacket, but before she could remove her damp shirt, she gave in to emotion, and burst into full-blown heart-wrenching sobs, letting her grief and worry come tumbling out. Burrowing her face in her pillow, she cried so hard it hurt her ribs, but now she’d started she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d never felt so alone and lost in all her life.

  ‘Hey, hey.’ Someone sat on the bed beside her and began to rub her back. Gulping back a sob which gave way to a hiccough, she lifted her head to find Betty looking down at her, her pretty face full of worry, and Judith standing behind her wringing her hands. Embarrassed, she swiped at her tears and sniffed, k
nowing she must look an absolute sight. She sat up but didn’t have the energy or the spirit to say anything. Betty swept her into a hug and pulled her tight and Evelyn let herself sink into the warm perfumed body, grateful beyond measure for the human comfort, even more so when Judith sat down next to her on the other side.

  Eventually she calmed and wiped her eyes with the linen handkerchief that Judith had pressed into her hand, realising it was one of the fine lawn ones given to her by her grandmother, who most definitely wouldn’t approve of this type of sensibility. She’d have told her to pull herself together, while her mother would have flapped about like an indecisive fairy.

  Judith patted her arm. ‘It’s good to cry,’ she said with one of her gentle smiles. ‘It cleanses the spirit. That’s what my aunt always told me. Tears wash away the sadness.’ She pulled a face and added in a dry voice, ‘Although sometimes it takes a lot of tears.’

  Evelyn couldn’t help smiling at that.

  ‘Want to tell us about it? Someone told me a problem shared is a problem…’ Betty wrinkled her nose and then with a good-natured smile said, ‘Do you know what? I can’t remember what it was but it made sense at the time.’

  Evelyn sputtered out a laugh. Having company, not being alone, not being told to buck up, was already making her feel better. Funny, she couldn’t imagine any of her other friends being this kind or calm. ‘Thank you. Things got away from me.’ She dried her eyes. ‘I’ve got myself into a bit of a fix and there’s nothing anyone can do. I was just feeling a bit sorry for myself.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Betty eyed her with a troubled expression. ‘Because I’m in a fix and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘I think I do. I was scared before because I thought you’d think badly of me.’

  ‘Have you done something wrong?’ Evelyn asked, thinking that if she had, it wouldn’t have been done deliberately. Betty wasn’t that type and Judith took the words out of her mouth.

  ‘If you have, I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.’

  ‘Me! No. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘Well then, why would we think badly of you?’ Evelyn included Judith in the question and the other woman nodded.

  Betty gave them both an embarrassed smile. ‘When we were at your house, Evelyn, you said it doesn’t matter where you come from, but where you’re going. I’ve thought about that a lot. When this war is finished I don’t want to stay in this village, I want to carry on doing things that matter. Judith, you’ve been forced to make so many changes in your life. I admire you for getting on with things. You never complain or moan. You take it all in your stride.’

  Judith shrugged and said in her usual stoic way, ‘There was no choice.’ Evelyn squeezed her hand. Of all of them, Judith had lost the most but she never complained or seemed to feel sorry for herself.

  Betty smiled at her. ‘And I do have choices and I want to make them. I don’t want to get married to the first man I’ve ever met. I want… I don’t really know what I want, I just know I want my life to be different from how it was and how everyone expected it should be.’

  ‘I understand that, exactly,’ said Evelyn, thinking about how much her life had changed since she’d decided to leave university. The irony was that the war had given her an insight into a life she’d never considered before. ‘This war is grim but it has given us the chance to make those changes.’

  ‘It has, but some people won’t let us.’

  Betty’s tone was filled with bitterness and Evelyn raised a brow, sensing there was more to it. ‘Some people?’

  ‘Like I said, I’m in a fix. No one can help, and I don’t know what to do, but I’m going to tell you anyway. My … well, everyone in the village thinks we are as good as wed, but I don’t want to.’

  ‘Is he the one who hit you?’ asked Evelyn.

  ‘Yes. He hit me because I wouldn’t tell him what he wants to know. He thinks this place is a distribution centre.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t he?’ Evelyn frowned. ‘That’s what everyone has been told.’

  ‘Oh, he believes it all right and he’s convinced that there are huge stores of cigarettes and alcohol here.’

  ‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ asked Judith.

  ‘Not when he wants me to give him the location of where they’re stored and how to get past the security.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Judith.

  ‘Hell,’ said Evelyn.

  ‘Exactly. I’ve been avoiding him, telling him I couldn’t get the information, but he’s threatening my mum and sister now. He’s a bully and a thug.’

  ‘Can’t you speak to your commanding officer? The nice American Major,’ suggested Evelyn.

  ‘I can’t. I’m scared I’ll lose my promotion and they’ll … they’ll realise they made a mistake.’

  ‘They haven’t made a mistake. They promoted you because you’re smart and capable.’

  ‘Yeah, they don’t know I’m just a girl from the village.’

  Evelyn gave her a fierce hug. ‘You’re not just a girl from the village. You’re Sergeant Betty Connors, a brilliant analyst. You wouldn’t have been in that meeting with Winnie—’ She glanced at Judith, realising she’d revealed a secret.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Judith flashed her a rare grin. ‘He came to see us too. Those cigars he smokes are horrible things. The M room stank for days.’ She slapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I mean the room.’

  Evelyn looked from Judith to Betty. ‘You don’t need to worry, Judith. I know we signed the Official Secrets Act but I think we probably know what goes on here.’

  ‘I know about the M Room,’ said Betty. ‘I analyse the transcripts and compile reports.’

  ‘And I read the reports,’ said Evelyn. ‘So you’re fine. Not revealing any secrets.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Judith, blushing.

  ‘But that doesn’t help us with Betty’s problem. They wouldn’t have included you in the meeting if they didn’t think you were important enough.’

  ‘So even more reason for me not to let them know where I’m really from,’ said Betty. ‘I can’t tell them, I just can’t.’ Her mouth took on a mutinous cast. ‘And I can’t avoid Bert for ever. The gun’s only going to hold him off for so long.’

  ‘What gun?’ Judith looked horrified.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not loaded,’ said Betty, although she seemed quite regretful about that.

  ‘I loaned her my father’s old service gun. Don’t worry, she’s not going to shoot anyone.’ Although Evelyn was pretty sure that, like her, Betty would fire the gun if she had to.

  ‘I would if I could. If he lays one finger on my sister, I will kill him.’

  ‘Betty, don’t say things like that. Even if you do mean them. It’s wrong,’ Judith begged.

  ‘Oh, bless you, Judith.’ Betty clasped her hands. ‘I’m being dramatic. Although if I were a bloke I’d have blacked his eyes for him.’

  ‘Maybe you should take up boxing. I remember Freddie used to be a dab hand at Oxford.’

  ‘Do you think he’d teach me?’ asked Betty hopefully.

  ‘I can ask him. But I think you’re going to need more than a few lessons before you turn into Sugar Ray Robinson.’

  ‘Thank you. Both of you. I know I have to sort it out but you’ve helped.’

  Evelyn wondered for a moment if she dared share her secret with them but inside she was still too confused about her own emotions to know what to say. ‘Thank you, too. You’ve helped me. And I really ought to get back to work. They’ll be wondering what happened to me. I popped up to change my clothes.’

  ‘My shift finished early today. They have some new people training so they needed my sta… my desk,’ explained Judith.

  ‘And I was owed some time and they said I had to take it this afternoon or lose it,’ said Betty.

  Giving her hair a quick tidy and putting on some powder to hide her blotchy face, Evelyn put on dry clothes,
hung up her wet ones and hurried back downstairs, hoping that no one would notice how long she’d been gone for.

  Funny, she’d had girlfriends at boarding school and in her social set but she’d never had a particular friend who was looking out for her or really cared what happened. Both Judith and Betty had offered their unfailing support even when she hadn’t been able to confide in them. That loyalty was rare.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Judith

  After an early dinner, as she was on the late shift, Judith swallowed down her tea and rose to head towards the door, saying goodbye to the other ATS girls who were sitting with her. She’d got to know quite a few of her fellow German speakers, most of whom worked in the translation department upstairs on the first floor, and she might even tentatively say that some of them were on the way to becoming friends. Since being at Latimer House, she’d found far more people that she had things in common with, even if it was only their nationality. One girl in particular, Lotte, had also come from Berlin and had played the violin and had known her father. They’d talked about music venues in the city and worked out that they might even have played at the same time together.

  Her heart quickened as she saw the familiar figure leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for her as he usually did, ready to escort her the short distance to the main house.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘It was very good. I went for a bike ride with a friend.’

  ‘I hope this friend looked after you.’ Walther’s eyes danced with amusement and she couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘He was extremely attentive and lifted my bicycle over the fence for me when we got a little too close to some very curious cows.’

  Walther laughed. ‘I’ve never been chased by a cow before.’

  ‘Nor me, and I don’t wish to repeat the experience.’

  ‘I promise I’ll take more care of you, next time.’ He took her arm and they set off down the path to the specially built prefab hut that housed the entrance to the M room.