by Jules Wake
‘They did what?’
‘True as I’m sitting here. How many times have you seen Peter?’ asked Betty, who seemed to have taken charge of the problem. Just watching her was giving Evelyn a surge of hope.
‘Three.’
‘And that’s given you enough opportunity to assess the situation and come to the conclusion that he might be persuaded to be a stool pigeon.’
Betty said it with such authority and conviction, Evelyn lifted her head and considered it for a moment before saying with a sudden smile, ‘Betty, that’s a brilliant idea. I think you might have saved my bacon. It’s a neat strategy and it would allow me to come clean now before I get caught out.’
‘I think so too,’ said Judith, nodding. ‘If Peter mentions he knows you when I’m not on duty, someone else would report it straightaway.’
‘Oh Judith, I hope I haven’t put you in a difficult position.’
‘Of course not. If I hadn’t been to your house, I’d never have known. None but us three knows that.’
Evelyn reached out and closed her hand over theirs. ‘You’re both absolute troopers. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
Betty shrugged. ‘That’s what friends do. Help each other.’
‘Thank you.’ She took a deep breath, already feeling so much calmer. ‘I’ll request an interview with Myers first thing in the morning. Phew. Suddenly it seems so obvious. I probably should have done it after the first time I saw him.’
‘You were too shocked and surprised,’ Betty interjected. ‘Then after the second, you needed time to assess the situation and now after the third, you’ve come to the logical conclusion.’
‘She’s right,’ said Judith with a nod. ‘Betty the strategist.’
‘Thank you. Thank you for listening.’
‘What was that saying?’ Betty frowned. ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’
Evelyn squeezed her hand. ‘It certainly is.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Judith
‘Right,’ said Evelyn, ‘let’s do this.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Wish me luck.’ With her fine blonde hair lit by the stream of sunshine coming in through the open window, she reminded Judith of a Nordic princess ready to go into battle.
‘Good luck,’ said Judith with an encouraging smile which hid her trepidation. ‘I’ll be in the music room until I go on shift.’ She planned to hide out there because she knew if she saw Walther, with that ready intuition of his, he would know that she was worrying about something, and she didn’t feel it was right to reveal Evelyn’s secret before they knew the outcome.
‘Thank you, I might need a shoulder to cry on, if they don’t frogmarch me out of the front door.’
‘They won’t,’ promised Betty.
Judith thought the other girl overly optimistic but, aware of Evelyn’s wan, strained face, she wouldn’t have dreamt of saying so.
As soon as Evelyn left, the two of them looked at each other. It was still early and neither were due on shift until eight o’clock.
‘Why don’t we bag some tea and toast from Elsie and take it to the music room, if you don’t mind me joining you?’ suggested Betty when Judith looked at her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
‘Not at all. I’m so nervous for Evelyn. It’s like waiting to go to the dentist or something. To be honest, I’ll be glad of the company.’
‘Me too,’ said Betty, linking her arm through Judith’s. ‘Let’s go brave Elsie’s den.’
Elsie was unable to mask her surprise at seeing them so early, as breakfast didn’t officially start until seven forty-five.
‘But it’s the early bird that catches the worm,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a couple of eggs if you’d like them.’
Betty exchanged a quick look with Judith who shook her head. Toast was about all she could manage this morning. ‘No thanks, Elsie. We’ll stick to toast.’
‘Fair enough. There’s tea in the pot, I made it for me and the girls, so help yourself, and the toast’ll be two ticks. Oh and Betty, did you hear about the hen house back home?’
‘No.’
‘Apparently something happened to it late last night. Vandals or something. Not sure what but the whole thing’s collapsed.’ Elsie gave her a kind smile. ‘Your sister sat outside all night with the chickens because she was worried about the fox.’
‘That sounds like Jane.’ Betty winced and pursed her mouth. ‘I haven’t got time to do go down there now and sort things out. I don’t suppose I could ask you to ask one of the girls, when they finish breakfast, to give a message to my ma? Tell her I’ll be down later after my shift finishes at four.’ She shook her head and scowled and Judith heard her curse under her breath. ‘Bloody Bert.’
‘Will do,’ said Elsie, turning back to the big stove and efficiently moving the heavy pans around as she started to prepare the porridge for breakfast.
‘Do you think Bert did it?’ asked Judith in a low voice.
‘A chicken coop doesn’t fall down by itself,’ Betty whispered back. ‘And it’s his style. Sneaky and mean. Those chickens are my ma’s livelihood and bless her, my little sister, Jane, adores them. They’re her pets and they all have names, named after characters in The Beano comic.’
‘She likes chickens?’ Judith couldn’t imagine anything worse. Ugly things that pecked and scratched in the dirt.
‘Here you go, ladies.’ Elsie handed over faded linen napkins, that Betty remembered from working in the house, filled with slices of toast and jam, and they scurried back up the stairs from the old servants’ quarters and along the corridor to the back of the house, where they slipped into the music room.
‘I’d almost forgotten this room existed,’ said Betty, going to sit on one of the deep window seats and unfolding the napkin on her lap. Judith sat opposite her in the bay window and took a loud crunching bite of her toast, savouring the thickly spread lovely raspberry jam, which still seemed a delicious luxury, although she suspected Elsie had given them preferential rations because she was so fond of Betty.
‘The family hardly ever used it, apart from some mad uncle who played the piano, and they left him to his own devices. He had the room to himself.’
‘I found it by accident; I don’t think many people know it’s here. I suppose if no one has reason to come this way, they wouldn’t see the door. Although I don’t know how the piano stays in tune. It has the most gorgeous tone.’
She glanced across at the beautiful instrument in the opposite corner, the crowning glory of the room. This morning sunlight slanted with golden beams in through the window, highlighting the gold and yellow floral designs on the Aubusson rug and turning the dust motes into tiny fluttering fireflies.
‘Ah, that’s easy. Elsie’s brother, the Vicar. He’s also a piano tuner and he used to come and play in return for tuning it. I bet he still pops in. When you’re a Vicar nobody questions what you’re doing somewhere, do they?’
‘That’s true. The dog collar gives them an open invitation.’
They lapsed into silence, sipping their tea, and giving the door an occasional look, both hoping that Evelyn might appear soon.
‘It will be terrible if Evelyn has to leave,’ said Judith, finishing her cup and putting it down on the window seat. She stood up and wiped the toast crumbs from her skirt.
‘It won’t come to that,’ said Betty.
Judith stared out of the window looking at the muddy tracks across the grass where the lorry had driven to collect the defused bomb. The drama of that day seemed a lifetime ago.
‘Don’t worry. Don’t borrow trouble until it gets here. That’s something my dad always used to say.’
‘I can’t help it. I think I’ve always worried.’ She turned and walked into the centre of the room, studying the intricate patterns of the Persian rug on the parquet floor. The thought of Evelyn leaving unsettled her. It reminded her of how she’d been when she’d first come to this country. That hollow, empty feeling. Until now,
she hadn’t appreciated how much she liked and admired the other girl or how deep those tentative roots of friendship had already sunk. It seemed impossible to imagine their little room without Evelyn or without Betty, for that matter.
For the first time in such a long time, she belonged. She enjoyed sharing a room with the two girls, liked their differences and relished their different outlooks on life. During these last few months, she’d learned so much from both of them and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. Life had taken on meaning in this house; she’d found a purpose, friendships and the closest thing to a home she’d had since she’d left Germany.
Somehow without realising it, she’d drifted across the room and found herself in front of the piano and lifted the lid and idly stroked a couple of keys. She sat down on the piano stool. The sheet music she’d borrowed from Evelyn’s brother was where she’d left it a few days ago. She’d played a few times before her evening shift but not as often as she’d thought she would because Walther had other ideas. She smiled. He’d filled their off-duty time with another lunch to the Kircheners, whom she adored, and he’d taken her to the local theatre one evening.
‘What are you smiling about?’ asked Betty, coming over to stand by the piano.
‘Walther,’ said Judith.
‘That’s getting serious,’ said Betty.
Judith nodded and pressed her fingers to the keys, playing a couple of notes. ‘I think so. It’s nice having someone who cares for you, who makes you feel that you are important.’ Walther had a way of making her feel that she was the centre of his world.
‘That’s how Major Wendermeyer makes me feel, but then I don’t believe it will last. I think he’ll find me out. But he also makes me feel as if I could fly, fizzy inside like champagne.’
‘Do you think that’s what being in love is like?’ asked Judith, a little uncertain. Did she love Walther? Last night Betty had glowed when she talked about her Major, and her eyes had sparkled. Judith wasn’t sure her eyes were capable of sparkling. Had her emotions been so numbed and inured to life that she couldn’t feel like that, or was Walther not the man for her? He was safe and steady. Was that enough? Did she want romance and grand gestures? Did you get the love you deserved? With Walther, was she settling for something easy and comfortable?
‘I think it might be,’ said Betty, clutching her hands to her chest and doing a quick twirl on the spot. ‘It ought to be. Does Walther make you feel like that?’
Judith paused, not wanting to be disloyal – he was a wonderful man – but she’d never had a girlfriend to talk with about this sort of thing before. ‘I’m not sure. I enjoy being with him, but it’s not exciting. It’s safe, but I know he’ll always catch me and he understands me better than myself sometimes – no, a lot of the time. It’s almost as if he can see inside me, to all my fears and worries.’
‘That sounds good, though. Compared to what it was like with Bert, I’d be happy with that, if I hadn’t met Carl. Maybe love gives you what you want. Do you want excitement and gaiety? I don’t think you do. I’m frivolous and silly. Maybe love is different for everyone and it gives you what you need. Look at Evelyn with her Peter, I think their love is a much deeper thing. More of a connection. She’s not the trapeze artist flying through the air—’
‘Or the elephant plodding through the sawdust,’ mused Judith.
‘Not that I think you’re anything like an elephant, but it sounds as if you want something solid and reliable, and I think Evelyn is more like the Ringmaster, she wants a hand on the reins and to be a partner. In control and a master of lots of different things.’
‘I don’t mind being an elephant, you know. I’ve had too much excitement in my life and it wasn’t good. I want a nice, quiet life, a space to grow and be left alone.’
Betty sat down next to her on the padded seat of the piano stool and put a hand over hers. ‘Then that is good. I think I want to live a bit, get away from the village when the war is finished. Away from everyone who thinks they know you and your business.’
‘And I’ve done that and now I want to settle. We’re opposites in many ways, wanting what the other has.’
‘Which makes us understand each other better, I think.’ Betty shot her one of her optimistic, cheery smiles. There was something to be said for looking on the bright side of things and it made her think of the jaunty happy tune she’d played the other morning. Perfect for Betty.
She began to play and Betty bounced on the seat beside her.
‘Oh, I love this song, “You Are My Sunshine”.’ She began to hum along to the music and then began to sing in her rich, sweet voice. It rang out beautifully within the proportions of the music room. Someone had known what they were doing and the acoustics were perfect. Judith couldn’t help smiling at the little stab of joy that the lyrics, the music and Betty’s singing brought. This was happiness, she thought as her fingers raced over the keys and Betty’s voice dipped and soared in flawless synchronisation. She really was a beautiful singer.
When the song came to an end, Betty clapped. ‘Oh, that was heavenly. Play another.’
So she played ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’ and again Betty sang along. Then Judith slowed the tempo, keen to see Betty’s range in action, swapping to the more mellow ‘The Starlit Hour’, which Walther had told her was sung by the singer Ella Fitzgerald. Much as she’d loved her father, she realised that he had a very narrow definition of music, considering only classical music as music worth listening to and playing. These popular, jazzy compositions called to her in a completely different way. She’d always love Mozart, Bach and Liszt but there was something about the vibrancy and excitement of modern music that lit up her nerve endings. It made her want to move, to improvise, to make her piano sing in a way that she’d never experienced before.
‘We should go on the stage,’ said Betty, as Judith played the dying chords of the last song. ‘Connors and Stern, musical double act.’
‘I’d like that,’ said Judith, suddenly a little shy at the idea. It wasn’t like her to push herself forward but she did love to play and she loved to perform. Somehow when she was playing the piano in front of people, she became a different person.
‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ drawled a voice from the doorway. Neither of them had noticed it opening and someone slipping in through the heavy oak door.
‘Evelyn!’ screeched Betty, jumping up from her stool. Judith followed a bit more slowly but they both ran towards her because the slow, pleased smile on her face suggested that things had gone well.
‘I still have a job.’
‘I told you.’
‘Thank goodness.’
Betty threw her arms around Evelyn in an ecstatic hug. Judith hung back a second until Evelyn held out her arm in invitation. Then the three of them were hugging and crying.
‘What did he say?’
‘God, it was awful. I told him everything and then he told me to wait and he left me in the office on my own for ages. I honestly thought he’d gone to get the MP to march me off to prison.’
‘No!’ murmured Betty, her big blue eyes wide with the drama of it all.
‘Poor you,’ said Judith, imagining how awful that must have been.
‘When he came back, he told me to sit down. I got a bit of a ticking off because I should have told him, but then he said he admired my initiative and that I’d delivered some excellent intel. So now I have to talk to Peter about becoming a stool pigeon. That’s the trade-off for my peace of mind.’
‘It’s a good one,’ said Betty.
‘Mmm,’ said Evelyn, and Judith could see that she wasn’t convinced.
‘Well, at least you can rest easy now and not worry about being caught out,’ said Judith. ‘Do you know when you’ll next see Peter?’
‘All being well, this afternoon. In the meantime, I need to go and make some apologies. I was rather beastly to poor Freddie yesterday.’
‘Just tell him it was your month
lies,’ said Betty with a naughty grin. ‘That always makes men uncomfortable. He’ll be so embarrassed he’ll forgive you anything.’
‘You are awful,’ said Evelyn with a laugh.
With her spirits lifted, Judith went into the M room for her shift and Walther gave her a quizzical smile when she took her seat and beamed back at him. It was obvious he’d been wondering where she was this morning. No doubt Betty would say something like it was good to keep him on his toes. The thought made her smile more and now Walther was definitely looking puzzled. He pulled off his headphones, grinned back at her. ‘You look happy this morning.’
‘I am. One of my room… my friends had some good news. In fact both of them did.’
‘That’s good. It reminds me of a quote. Friendship improves happiness and abates grief by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of our grief.’
‘What a wonderful saying.’
‘I can’t take the credit. It was Cicero, a Roman scholar.’
‘I must remember it. Can you write it down for me? I want to share it.’ She pulled on her headphones as she decided that perhaps she could write it out on the postcards that she’d bought in Amersham last time she’d been out cycling with him, and give one each to Betty and Evelyn.
Then she flicked on the switch to open up the channel and all thought of friendship disappeared as she had to concentrate on listening to two prisoners who’d recently arrived. Both simmered with resentment and frustration at being captured and were full of scorn for their captors and their ‘soft’ treatment thus far. Judith had time to muse that killing with kindness had its merits as she scribbled down their comments and quickly assessed their attitude. They were unlikely at this stage, she knew from experience, to be co-operative but their derision made them unguarded in their comments about what they did know and planned to conceal from the enemy.
Their talk turned to their experiences on the front and she kept her pencil poised for any useful information. When one of them said that he’d been posted in occupied Poland and had spent some time in a town called Mizoch, her muscles tensed. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard of the ghetto where many Jews had been sent under enforced segregation.
