The Code Girls

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Lord Woolton pie and apple fritters for lunch.’ Ava paused. ‘Can’t do beans on toast again.’ She groaned, as she tried to think of something quick and easy for Saturday’s supper.

  ‘I could do spicy paprika sausage in tomato sauce?’ Maudie suggested.

  ‘Done! What will we put in the sausage, though?’ Ava asked.

  ‘A few old socks!’ Maudie teased.

  ‘Sunday?’ Ruby called out.

  ‘We could do a mock roast with mince and spam and plenty of fresh herbs, and a fruit pie and custard,’ Ava said.

  ‘Supper?’ Maudie asked.

  Ruby grimaced. ‘I’m feeling sick, thinking about all this food!’

  ‘Come on, it’s the last item on the weekly menu,’ Maudie urged.

  ‘Sunday supper?’ Ava replied. ‘Assorted sandwiches and fake chocolate cake.’

  Maudie dropped her pencil on to the table. ‘Done!’

  ‘Are we going to follow this week in and week out?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Yes, but we can vary it with seasonal vegetables and whatever Peter delivers,’ Ava replied, as she lit up a Woodbine and inhaled deeply.

  ‘What about the gentry upstairs?’ Ruby asked anxiously.

  ‘What about them?’ Maudie exclaimed.

  ‘They’re not going to like apple fritters and potato hash.’ Ruby giggled nervously. ‘They’re used to finer things.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Maudie cried. ‘They can’t have preferential treatment. We’ve all got to make sacrifices’

  ‘No chance,’ Ava added. ‘I had a run-in with her ladyship after Timms promised her all kinds of luxuries: salmon mousse, beef Wellington, caviar, and God knows what! When I reminded her ladyship we were on rationed goods, she said the estate would provide, at which point I had to tell her that most of the produce from the estate was requisitioned for those with greater needs than hers. She certainly wasn’t happy about it, but she’ll have to lump it!’

  Maudie gave a wicked smile. ‘We should lock Timms in the wine cellar and throw away the key!’ she joked.

  ‘Talking of the wine cellar, the Walsinghams expect to be served wine at lunch and supper,’ Ruby told her friends.

  ‘A fine hock with beans on toast!’ mocked Maudie.

  ‘We’ve got more than enough to do,’ Ava retorted, as she stubbed out her cigarette. ‘It’s Dodds’s job to go running up and down the back stairs with bottles of booze, not ours.’

  ‘The rate Lady Diana’s knocking it back, the cellar will be empty before long,’ Ruby remarked.

  Maudie threw up her hands as she cried, ‘What those wretched people drink is not our problem!’

  With a purposeful smile, Ava pushed back her chair. ‘If we’re going to start on our new menus, I’d better ring in the grocery order.’

  ‘What’s Tuesday?’ Ruby asked, nodding towards Maudie’s open notebook.

  ‘Potato hash and rice pudding!’ Maudie replied.

  ‘I’ll soak the rice and start peeling the spuds,’ Ruby volunteered.

  ‘And I’ll go and check what veg and milk Peter’s left in the back pantry,’ said Maudie.

  Before the girls hurried away, they smiled at each other. They had agreed on a daily plan which had to work if they were to feed thirty hungry mouths and survive the rigours of wartime rationing.

  6. Bella Wells

  Annabelle took deep breaths as she made her way down the grand staircase that led into the Great Hall, from which rooms ran off to the left and right; the airy ground floor had been Annabelle’s home until a few months ago, so she was intrigued by the changes that had taken place. The requisitioned areas had a distinct boarding-school air about them. She’d noticed the changes in the dining room before. The spacious drawing room appeared cramped; it was cluttered with battered old sofas and armchairs, there were newspapers strewn around the room and overflowing ashtrays left out on table-tops and the fire hadn’t been lit. The room had the institutional smell of cold tea, cabbage and cigarette smoke but, for all that, Annabelle, unlike her sister, Diana, liked the changes. Hearing the sound of laughter and female voices, Annabelle hurried down the corridor to the secretary’s office.

  ‘Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the brigadier’s office, please?’ she asked when she got there.

  ‘Is it urgent? He’s busy,’ the heavily made-up secretary replied, as she hammered the keys of her Remington typewriter.

  ‘Er …’ Annabelle dithered.

  Her indecision caused the secretary to stop typing and scan the young woman standing tensely before her.

  ‘Come back later,’ she said, grabbed a sheaf of papers and rose from the desk.

  Annabelle stayed where she was. She wasn’t going to put off this meeting one minute longer. Pretending to be looking out of the window, she waited till the secretary’s footsteps had faded away, then hurried on down the corridor, looking for the brigadier’s name on the doors she passed by. The smell of cherry tobacco led her to his office. The door was half open. She tapped on it softly and waited.

  ‘Come in.’

  Anabelle stepped into the office. ‘May I have a moment of your time?’ she asked.

  The brigadier looked up and his face registered surprise. What could Lady Annabelle Walsingham want of him?

  ‘Certainly,’ he said, indicating a chair.

  Terrified that the secretary would walk in and order her out, Annabelle quickly launched into her pre-rehearsed piece.

  ‘I’d like to train in communications,’ she blurted out. ‘I achieved top marks in my Higher School Certificate in Maths, Statistics and Physics at Cheltenham Ladies’ College.’ She blushed as she said this. The brigadier was sure to think she was showing off, but she had to impress him with her qualifications if she was to get him to take her seriously. ‘I’m sure I have an aptitude for communications and I really want to do my bit for the war effort,’ she added earnestly.

  The brigadier looked at the girl in front of him. With her softly curling blonde hair and charming dimple, she had a sweetness and intensity that touched him. If she was telling the truth about her qualifications, she was without doubt better qualified to do the course than most of the girls already enrolled. But … there was one big but.

  ‘Are your parents aware of your intentions, Lady Annabelle?’ he asked.

  She cringed; she hated the sound of her title on his lips; it set her apart from the ordinary and everything she hoped to achieve.

  ‘They really aren’t in a position to stop me, in any case. Female conscription is obligatory,’ she replied, and defiantly stuck out her little chin.

  ‘You’re quite right.’

  ‘Would you consider my request, sir?’ she asked.

  ‘I would have to see evidence of your examination results, plus I’d need a reference and a doctor’s report,’ he replied. ‘If all of those are in order, I would have no reason to turn you down.’

  Annabelle couldn’t stop herself smiling. He noticed her fine, even teeth and, again, the delightful dimple in her right cheek.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I shall attend to your requests right away.’ As she rose from her chair, she said, rather awkwardly, ‘I would prefer to keep my real identity from the other trainees.’

  The brigadier’s thick brown eyebrows shot up.

  ‘I think it would be uncomfortable for both them and for me if they knew I was the daughter of Lord and Lady Walsingham. It’s best that I’m just one of the crowd,’ she finished.

  ‘As you wish,’ he replied.

  As Annabelle left the room, closing the door softly behind her, the brigadier couldn’t help but admire her composed determination. Smiling to himself, he stuffed the stem of his pipe back into his mouth and returned to the papers piled up on his desk.

  Annabelle virtually skipped back upstairs. She was determined not to hang about, waiting for ‘the right moment’ to break the news, because she knew there never would be one. She could easily get copies of her examination results, and she was certa
in of getting a glowing reference from her old headmistress at Cheltenham Ladies’ College. She’d always been a favourite of hers. She’d book an appointment for a check-up with her doctor in Fakenham immediately. Nothing was going to hold her back; nothing was going to keep her banged up with her poisonous family a minute longer than necessary.

  Annabelle checked the rooms upstairs. Only her mother was in, writing letters at her desk. The rest of the family were due back for lunch; she’d have to wait till then. Restless and impatient, Annabelle took herself for a walk around the garden, where she found Peter, busy digging up new potatoes and young carrots.

  ‘Digging for victory?’ she asked, quoting a popular government slogan.

  Peter smiled fondly at her. Always the same, young Miss Annabelle, open and easy-going, treating everybody as an equal. When she was a little girl, she’d loved to grub about in the garden alongside him.

  ‘Grab a spade and get stuck in!’ he laughed.

  As they dug in companionable ease, Annabelle asked about the arrangements below stairs.

  ‘Ruby’s got two new cooks, young girls,’ Peter told her.

  ‘Good luck to them,’ said Annabelle. ‘They’ll have their work cut out, that’s for sure.’

  When she’d finished digging her trench, Annabelle volunteered to drop off the vegetables at the hall. She carried the heavy crate into the back pantry, where she bumped into a tall, slim auburn-haired woman.

  ‘How do you do?’ Annabelle said politely.

  Maudie returned the greeting and relieved Annabelle of the crate. ‘Thanks for the veg,’ she added, with a smile that lit up her tired green eyes.

  Feeling sorry for the attractive young woman, Annabelle added, ‘Peter tells me there are new cooks below stairs.’

  Maudie nodded and swiped a lock of curly hair from her eyes. ‘I’m the latest cook to arrive, Ava was the first,’ she answered.

  ‘And you’ve got Ruby and Timms?’ Annabelle asked.

  Maudie raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Mmmmm, I wouldn’t say we’ve got Timms,’ she replied, with a smile that revealed her even white teeth. ‘She tends to avoid us.’

  Annabelle didn’t need any further explanation; she knew that, after rubbing shoulders with the upper classes for over forty years, Timms assumed she was one of them, too.

  ‘Maybe you’re better off running your kitchen without the old guard,’ Annabelle said cautiously.

  Maudie nodded in agreement. ‘For sure. We’ve got a good routine going, but it’s still a route march.’

  Annabelle couldn’t stop herself from saying, ‘I think you’re all amazing!’

  ‘We try our best,’ Maudie said with a quick smile. ‘Thanks again.’ She carried the loaded crate down the long, dark corridor to the kitchen.

  Annabelle hurried back to her room, where she washed her hands and face, combed her hair then studied her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright and steely; determined.

  ‘Time to drop the bombshell!’

  Between vegetable soup and grilled kidneys, a treat of a dish ‒ Ruby had got the kidneys from the local butcher in Wells ‒ but which everybody ate without any comment or obvious appreciation, Annabelle made her announcement.

  ‘You’re what?’ her mother gasped.

  ‘You heard me, Mama. I’m joining the code girls downstairs. The brigadier’s agreed, he said a healthy young woman of my age is obliged to do war work – it’s the patriotic thing to do.’ She knew she shouldn’t stoke the fire, but she couldn’t resist having a poke at her idle sister.

  ‘Do you really have to do your so-called “war work” right under our noses?’ Diana seethed. ‘By agreeing to join those girls, you’re conceding that the government was right to requisition our home.’

  ‘It’s not the only stately home in the land that’s been requisitioned for war purposes,’ Annabelle retorted. ‘Anyway, I intend to change my name so they won’t connect me with this family.’

  ‘You’re a bloody little traitor!’ Diana raged, as she poured a big glug of white wine into her glass.

  ‘It’s not so bad an idea,’ Edward said with a sneer of a smile. ‘Annabelle could be our little go-between downstairs. She could sneak back here with all the gossip and keep us entertained with tales of common life,’ he mocked.

  Annabelle glared at her self-seeking brother. ‘I don’t think so,’ she answered coldly.

  Diana turned to her father. ‘Papa, tell the stupid girl she’s got to stop this nonsense.’

  His lordship shrugged and looked dispassionately at his younger daughter. She had always been an enigma to him.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Diana, for the reasons your sister has so succinctly pointed out. I rather wish that her training was elsewhere, then I wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation, but if she goes under a false name, nobody need know but us and the servants.’

  ‘Have you a new name in mind?’ her mother, from the other end of the table, asked in icy tones.

  Annabelle nodded. ‘Bella Wells.’

  Lady Diana flopped back in her chair. ‘Christ! It sounds like an ice-cream!’

  ‘My new identity must be kept strictly confidential,’ Bella insisted.

  Lady Walsingham threw up her hands and cried out in disgust, ‘I’d rather die than reveal to any of my acquaintances how low you’ve stooped.’

  Edward turned to Diana and said with malicious humour, ‘Better be careful, sis. If the worthy brigadier discovers there’s an elder Walsingham daughter dodging conscription, you could be in big trouble.’

  ‘You can talk!’ Diana snapped. ‘What’s your bit for the war effort? Discussing the pros and cons of Hitler and Goebbels over brandy and cigars?’

  Aware of an argument brewing, Annabelle quickly rose from the table. ‘One more thing, Papa,’ she said. ‘Please would you instruct Dodds and Timms of my change of circumstances? I wouldn’t want them to be embarrassed if they bump into me with the trainees.’

  ‘I’ll let them know,’ his lordship said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Diana, who was by now well into her cups, called after the departing Annabelle, ‘Run away, little code girl, go and join the riff-raff.’

  Annabelle passed Ruby, standing by the hot serving trays, as she left the room. She grinned at the boggle-eyed girl, who, having heard the entire conversation, gave the discreetest of nods. Of course Ruby would keep her ladyship’s secret – anything had to be better than living upstairs with this bunch of spiteful toffs!

  Once she was out in the corridor, Annabelle punched the air in triumph. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ she chanted, as she ran to her room, where she wasted no time packing a suitcase. Then she slipped down the stairs, went out into the yard, where she collected her bike from the bicyle shed. She balanced her suitcase across the handlebars and, with a grin on her face, cycled out of Walsingham estate the back way.

  Half an hour later, a smiling young woman with soft, blonde hair and pale blue eyes cycled up to Walsingham Hall, passing the ornamental gates on her way. She stopped to read the family motto emblazoned underneath the ancestral coat of arms.

  ‘Prudens qui patiens eternim durissima coquit ‒ the prudent one is the patient one because he digests the hardest things.’ She murmured the words she knew so well under her breath, then shivered as a tingle of excitement slipped down her spine. ‘I have been prudent and I have been patient and now I’m damn well going to do what I want!’

  7. An Army Marches on Its Stomach

  Bella wasted no time in phoning her former headmistress at Cheltenham Ladies’ College, who promised an excellent reference by return of post then she made an appointment for the following day with her doctor in Fakenham, after which she reported back to the brigadier, who looked surprised by her speedy return.

  ‘You’ll have all the official information you require by next week,’ she promised. ‘Please may I report for duty right away, sir?’

  The brigadier appraised the keen young woman standing befor
e him, her chin thrust firmly forward as if she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. The War Office was on the lookout for bright young code girls, and if this determined girl had the right qualities he’d certainly recommend her for code-breaking ops at Bletchley Park.

  ‘Miss Cox won’t like it,’ he said, as he packed the bowl of his pipe with tobacco. ‘Better tell her I said it would a pity for you to miss out on the start of the course while we wait for the paperwork. Have you decided on a name?’

  ‘Wells,’ she answered with a grin. ‘Bella Wells.’

  The brigadier couldn’t help but smile, which lit up his dark brown eyes and softened his usually firm mouth.

  ‘I’m sure your parents will love that,’ he remarked.

  Bella shrugged and cheerfully replied, ‘They don’t like anything about me, so it doesn’t really matter.’

  The brigadier wisely refrained from making any comment; instead he nodded towards his open office door, and Bella quickly took her leave.

  Miss Cox, a stickler for protocol, was quite put out.

  ‘It’s rather out of the ordinary to start without papers.’

  Bella repeated the senior officer’s words. ‘The brigadier thought it would be a pity to miss out on the start of the course.’ Seeing Miss Cox’s grumpy expression, she quickly added, ‘I could collect my reference and copies of my examination results at the weekend, if that would suit you better?’

  ‘And the doctor’s report?’

  ‘I’ve arranged for an examination at the Fakenham surgery in the morning,’ Bella answered politely.

  ‘You seem to have thought of everything, Miss Wells,’ Miss Cox answered grudgingly. ‘There are a few empty beds in the south wing. Settle yourself in there and we’ll see you at teatime, four thirty sharp. Oh, and take your ration book to the cook,’ she added.

  Bella left the room and, in the empty corridor, hugged herself with joy. ‘Goodbye, Your Ladyship,’ she said gleefully. ‘Hello, Bella Wells!’

  Later, Bella made her familiar way below stairs, where she found Ava and Ruby, flustered, loading the teatime trays with bread, butter, jam and jars of meat paste.