The Codebreakers

by Alli Sinclair

  Mrs Hanley and Ellie waved until Kat’s bus disappeared.

  Ellie’s shoulders slumped. ‘I’m going to miss her.’

  ‘She’s going where she needs to be.’

  ‘She is.’ Ellie blew upward, trying to move a wayward curl. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier, though.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’ Mrs Hanley put her arm around Ellie as they walked among the crowd of wellwishers. The electric atmosphere had fizzled, with people crying and embracing each other.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Mrs Hanley.

  ‘I thought I might go for a walk down the river. Maybe pop over and say hello to Louis and Maude.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Ellie didn’t answer.

  ‘Are you planning to return to your family?’

  ‘Longreach will always be close to my heart but I’ve changed. I’ve seen and done things I could never have dreamed of.’

  ‘You’ve outgrown it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Hanley patted Ellie’s hand, ‘I hope you find joy in whatever you do. Life is too short to be caught up in doing things that make us unhappy.’

  Ellie rested her head on Mrs Hanley’s shoulder. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For?’

  ‘Thank you for not telling me what I should do. Everything is in a state of flux and it’s hard to know what’s right and what isn’t.’

  Mrs Hanley stopped walking and looked into Ellie’s eyes. ‘Because I’m getting on in years, I have already borne witness to the difficulties everyone faces in the aftermath of war. The men suffer in silence, never ones to talk about the tragedies they’ve suffered. We women try to hold everyone up with our strength, until our knees shake and our arms threaten to drop the heavy load. But we do it. We carry everyone who needs support. We help the world right itself and nurture those who need it most. Women are incredible creatures; don’t you ever forget it. So, if you have the chance to do something you want, take it and don’t be apologetic. Women spend too much time bowing to society’s expectations instead of allowing ourselves to be who we truly are.’

  An urge bubbled within to tell Mrs Hanley about Central Bureau and all the wonderful women who worked there. Mrs Hanley would have loved to have heard about Florry and her ability to bring out the best in everyone, and Lillian who was a whizz on the TypeX, as well as Cassandra who instinctively knew what people needed in intense emotional situations, and Joy with her talent for maths and her business savvy. So many talented, brilliant women helping keep Australia and other Allied nations safe. Yet she couldn’t breathe a word about them, and that hurt immensely.

  Ellie gave Mrs Hanley a friendly kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you for always looking out for me and for your guidance.’

  ‘You and Kat are the daughters I never had. And, just like every mother, there comes a time when we have to let our baby birds learn to fly on their own. If you need to spread your wings, then do so and know you can return to this nest any time you need.’

  After dinner Ellie retired to her bedroom early. She lay on her side, staring at Kat’s empty bed. She now had a full wardrobe and dresser available, but she couldn’t bring herself to space out her possessions. By now Kat would be in international waters. And here was Ellie, still in Brisbane.

  It felt like everyone was leaving—including her Garage Girls. The American troops were pulling out and heading home, leaving behind women with broken hearts or clutching to the hope their relationship would weather distance and bureaucracy. There were the lucky few like Kat, who had turned their world upside down and taken a leap of faith. Life changed like the tide, ebbing and flowing, bringing new adventures and changing relationships and situations. Nothing stood still for long.

  Sighing, Ellie rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She would have given anything to talk to Florry right now. She wanted to know how she was adjusting to not working for Central Bureau. Did she miss the challenge of deciphering and encrypting messages? Did she miss the deep friendships they’d forged working in such an intense environment? What about those moments when, after a particularly difficult shift, they would laugh at the silliest things to release the pressure?

  Although Ellie didn’t fully understand Florry’s desire to break ties with the women of Central Bureau, she had to respect her friend’s wishes. Maybe time was all that was needed.

  She kicked the cushion off the bed.

  Ellie rested her hands behind her head and concentrated on the paint peeling in the far corner of the ceiling. She’d loved her time at Central Bureau and had accepted the sacrifices of signing her life over to the government. It was the least she could do, given the turmoil the world was in. And she was willing to do anything to bring the boys home. But now the war was over and Central Bureau had set her free she felt lonely, useless. Mrs Hanley and Florry were right, Ellie had to find a way to spread her wings.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It had been three days since Kat had left and Ellie felt like she’d been walking around in circles, lost in memories of what was. She got off the bus a couple of miles from home to stretch her legs as they ached from standing all day. The shift at Mossman’s had been more enjoyable than she’d anticipated. Perhaps this job wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought. After all, it was refreshing to be surrounded by an array of colours rather than the drab, dark confines of the garage at Nyrambla and the khaki green of 67 AWAS Barracks.

  She walked along Kitchener Road and although she hadn’t consciously chosen this route, her feet, and quite possibly her heart, had made the decision. Before long, she was standing out the front of 21 Henry Street, Ascot.

  The trees seemed fuller and taller, the paintwork on the building a little more weather-beaten. Who would have thought, when she’d first gone through the gates of Nyrambla, that this top-secret world would change her life? She never regretted working for Central Bureau—far from it, as the people she’d met, the work she’d done and the knowledge that she’d helped save lives made it all worthwhile. It was the secrets she had to keep from her loved ones that were her biggest regret. There’d been no contact from the government advising their position of silence had changed, and she doubted there ever would be. This was one secret she would have to keep until her dying breath.

  A woman in her early twenties lugging a basket of groceries made her way up the street. Ellie grew self-conscious when she was caught staring at a building that wasn’t hers.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked the woman.

  ‘No, I’m all right, thank you.’

  The woman cocked her head in the direction of the house. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She was used in the war as headquarters for some organisation.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Central something-or-other. Just another department of paper-pushers is my guess.’ Her gaze turned to the house once more. ‘I think she’s better suited as a residence.’

  ‘Is that what it’s being used for?’

  ‘It’s recently been divided into six flats. I live in one of them with my auntie and sister.’

  ‘What are the flats like?’ Ellie couldn’t contain her curiosity. It was hard to imagine this building that once buzzed with activity day and night now hosting a handful of people who slept in rooms where some of the war’s biggest secrets had been discussed.

  ‘Want to take a look?’

  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t.’ Though she desperately wanted to.

  ‘I don’t mean come into my flat, but you might want to look at the hall and foyer and some of the common rooms. It’s something to behold.’ She shifted the basket to her other arm. ‘I’m Barbara, by the way.’

  ‘Ellie,’ she said.

  Barbara opened the gate and Ellie followed, almost expecting the guards to stop her. Instead, she made her way down the gravel path, just like she used to.

  ‘The entrance is here.’ Barbara walked across the blue and white tiles on the verandah. She o
pened the front door and Ellie stepped in, taking in every detail. In all the time she’d spent at Nyrambla, she’d never gone through this door with its grand ladies etched in glass on either side of the entrance. Gone was the constant murmur of people talking, typewriter keys clacking, papers shuffling. Instead, the place was silent.

  Nyrambla was finally at peace.

  ‘There’s a really beautiful view from the balcony upstairs,’ she said.

  As Ellie followed Barbara, memories of Commanding Officer Buckley crashed in on her. She tried to suppress a smile when she remembered the Rottweilers—also known as Michael and Jack. Images of Lieutenant Cox, Richard, Jonathon, and even cranky Charlie flew through her mind. Where were they all now? Had they had trouble adjusting to their post-war lives? Had they all managed to remain silent about their work?

  Barbara held open a door. ‘The balcony is through here.’

  They entered the space that once served as the office for Commanding Officer Buckley. Ellie’s steps became tentative, her shoulders slightly hunched, like she was waiting to be told off by the commanding officer’s assistants.

  The white walls that had once proudly displayed portraits of men such as General MacArthur and the king were now adorned with watercolours of Parisian-style gardens. For a few years these walls had contained some of the biggest and most challenging decisions of the war. What conversations had there been in this office that she—and the rest of the world—may never know about yet would experience their effects for decades?

  The room closed in. Her chest tightened. She stepped onto the balcony and rested her hands on the rail. Below lay the street she’d travelled up and down hundreds of times, never knowing what the day would bring. The same street that had seen special couriers delivering and despatching messages and commands that changed the world in so many ways. Yet now, with the jacarandas in bloom and swaying in the gentle breeze, this street was just like any other.

  ‘What do you think?’ Barbara stood next to her.

  ‘It is absolutely gorgeous. You’re very lucky to live here.’

  ‘I am.’ She gave a half-smile.

  ‘The gardens are beautiful. I imagine they’re just as lovely around the back,’ said Ellie, hoping her subtle suggestion worked.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  Barbara led the way down the stairs and through the main entrance once more. A lump formed in Ellie’s throat. No. No. No. She couldn’t get emotional.

  They turned the corner and there it was—the garage.

  It looked so unassuming with its cream fibro-board exterior and grey tin roof. The garage door was down, blocking any visual inside but Ellie had a clear image in her head—the rows of desks, TypeX machines, and the women she adored and missed greatly.

  Barbara looked at her watch. ‘I better get dinner started.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ said Ellie.

  ‘It’s a pleasure. This is such a beautiful property and it’s nice to share it.’

  They walked towards the gate and Ellie tried to commit to memory every plant, every tree, the way the sunlight shone through the filigree surrounding the verandah. Barbara waved goodbye and Ellie was on Henry Street once more.

  An array of emotions battled within—nostalgia for the friends she missed, the honour of being chosen to do such important and difficult work, and pride knowing she’d made a difference to many lives. It was all in the past, though. How long would she cling to it before it stopped her reaching for the future?

  A few days later Ellie knocked on Louis and Maude’s door but no one answered. It had been a long and hot trek over to their house, so Ellie sat under the tree to contemplate what to do next. They weren’t expecting her, so they could be gone for hours.

  She waited for half an hour and was readying herself to leave when Louis’s car pulled up. He got out, slammed the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. His head was bowed and the weight of the world appeared to be on his shoulders.

  ‘Louis?’

  His head jerked up. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Well, that’s a nice way to greet … What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He slid past and stormed up the steps. Putting the key in the lock, he grumbled, ‘I’m not in the mood for company.’

  Ellie planted her hand on the doorframe, blocking his progress. ‘I’m not company.’

  ‘What are you then?’

  ‘Annoying.’ She grinned.

  Louis’s lips twitched but not enough to be called a smile.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa and we can either sit in silence or you can let it all out. Your choice.’

  Louis stepped back and let Ellie through. She went straight to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Then she went looking in the cupboard for the tin of biscuits Maude constantly hid from Louis and his sweet tooth.

  ‘Where are they?’ she asked.

  ‘Maude threw the tin at me and it split open.’ Louis slumped onto the kitchen chair.

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  He gave an exaggerated shrug.

  Ellie turned off the boiling kettle and sat next to him. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’ve just dropped her at the bus station. She’s going to stay with her parents up north.’

  ‘For how long?’

  Another shrug.

  ‘Why did she go?’

  Louis rolled his eyes. ‘I thought you said we could sit in silence if I wanted.’

  She nudged his foot with hers. ‘I thought you knew me.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I thought I knew my wife too. Turns out she’s been leading a double life.’

  Oh no. ‘What has she done?’

  ‘One man is not enough for her, apparently.’ His fury bounced off the walls.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Some Dutch officer. She says she doesn’t love him, but it would be better if she did. At least that way she’d have a reason for destroying our marriage.’

  ‘Oh, Louis. I’m so sorry.’ Ellie abandoned the idea of tea and went to the ice box, found a large bottle of beer and opened it. She handed it to him.

  Louis took a swig and wiped the froth from his mouth. ‘I thought we were finally on the right track. We were getting along better, she seemed happier …’ He shook his head. ‘She was happier because she was having an affair.’

  ‘Louis’—Ellie took a swig too—‘this is not your fault. I’ve seen the way you are with Maude.’

  ‘I wasn’t perfect.’

  ‘No one is. I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, though I know you well enough to understand what kind of person you are. And from my point of view, you loved her with all your heart and she never wanted for anything, certainly not love.’

  Louis took another drink then put the bottle on the table and pushed it away. ‘Love is for fools.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘I do.’ His eyes locked on hers. ‘You can’t tell me you still believe in love after what that swine did to you.’

  ‘Harry had his reasons. He—’

  ‘Come on, Bug. It’s me you’re talking to.’

  ‘Fine.’ She took a long drink and nearly emptied the bottle. Ellie slammed it on the table. ‘I hate what he did. It was low and cowardly.’ She paused, but only for a short moment. ‘Would you take her back?’

  ‘I want to say no but …’

  ‘Love never makes sense.’ She had certainly learned that the hard way.

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  As a last-ditch attempt to help, she said, ‘Mrs Hanley’s making a roast. I’m sure she’d love you to come over.’

  Louis shook his head. ‘Thank you for the invitation. I need to wallow here for a while.’

  ‘If you change your mind, just turn up.’

  When he hugged her goodbye, she sensed every hurt, every worry, every question about his marriage swirling crazily through him.

  Ellie whispered, ‘Things will work themselves out. They always do.’<
br />
  Ellie had left Louis’s and wandered the streets, not quite ready to go home. Louis’s news had been a surprise, especially as she’d thought he and Maude had got through their rough patch and had a rock-solid relationship. How wrong she’d been. If they couldn’t make it, then what hope did others have? She tried not to think about Kat and Leonard. They had an even greater challenge. Moving anywhere new, let alone a foreign country, puts immense strain on a relationship. She prayed Kat and Leonard could make it work.

  She walked aimlessly, passing businesses that had now removed the sandbags that once protected their doorways in case of attack. Yet the bunkers in the streets remained, many serving as bus and tram shelters.

  A young boy scootered beside his parents, who smiled at Ellie. She returned the gesture, still not used to seeing more men in civilian clothes these days. At the height of the war in Brisbane, Ellie had felt like she was living in a large barracks with uniformed personnel on every street. Now, most troops had left and the city had reduced to its pre-war population. Although, with the number of pregnant women she’d seen lately, the population would climb once more.

  A pang of regret hit Ellie. Marriage and children could have been her life. For a while it had been the road she was travelling down. Then Harry had ripped that future away—no explanation. As much as she wanted to believe she’d got over him, she hadn’t. Would she ever?

  Ellie crossed the park that had been a camp for American troops. The men who had lived on this land were now back home, hopefully reunited with their loved ones and making plans for a bright and fulfilling future.

  She sat heavily on the park bench and watched a couple of families nearby. The mothers sat on a blanket and laughed; the children kicked a ball to each other while their fathers ran after them.

  Ellie had to find a way to concentrate on things she could change rather than lamenting what she couldn’t. Yet her mind kept returning to how other people who served in the war adapted to their new lives. How could a man who had bombed villages or shot people because they were deemed the enemy ever go back to being normal? What about the men who felt guilty because they returned and their mates hadn’t made it out alive? What about the servicemen, like Mrs Hanley’s husband, who had taken their own lives as they’d felt it was the only way to stop the suffering? And those poor wives and children, after the joy of having their man back safely, then having to endure the devastation of losing him forever. But how could any of this be fixed when men wouldn’t talk and women were too afraid?