Menzies chuckled grimly to himself as the car drove off. It was obvious that Strong belonged to the Freddie Morgan school of appreciation when it came to discussing the British ground forces commander. The trouble was that there were far too many prima donnas treading on each other’s toes, from Montgomery at the top all the way down through the senior command levels. And there were other examples of divided opinion high up in the Allied Command. The air forces were a case in point. Some of the personalities within the RAF and USAAF were almost out of control. People like Harris and Coningham for the RAF, Spaatz and Vandenburg for the Americans - these were grown men behaving like medieval robber barons, jealous of their own personal fiefs and reluctant to listen to any other voice but their own in their personal quest to win the war. Sometimes it seemed not to matter that they were all serving officers under higher military and political control, in their burning desire to protect their own interests and do what they thought best. He hoped to God that they would see enough sense to make sure that the prospects of victory were not spoiled by petty internal squabbling.
South Devon 1730
‘Well, what do you think?’ Patricia stopped the car at the entrance to the lane. The view was spectacular. A long avenue of trees led through a meadow towards a converted farmhouse, a long two-storey building with outhouses that stretched back towards a low hill behind. The sea was visible over to the left in the near distance, a greyish blue backdrop where scattered clouds blocked the sun’s arc. It was peaceful, idyllic, almost a million miles away from the prospect of war and all its horrors. Simon flipped open the side window, and inhaled the salt tang of the sea and the green of the countryside. It was a welcome change from the confines of London.
‘What a lovely location. Are we stopping to admire the view, or is there some other reason why you’ve brought me here?’ Simon winked slyly at her and smiled. He suspected he knew exactly the reason why they were there.
‘Yes, but all will be revealed in due course!’
‘I take it this is your mother’s house, and your family home.’
‘Naturally- where else did you think I’d take you? After all, I did let on that I come from this part of the world, and there’s absolutely no chance of anybody getting a room at a hotel around here, not that there’s much of a choice with all these damn Yanks around.’
‘Hmmm. You seem to know a lot about them, don’t you?’
‘Not jealous, by any chance, are we?’ She laughed, shaking her blonde curls and looking sideways at him. ‘I think you should know by now that I’m not the shy retiring type, meek and mild, who’d never say boo to a goose.’
‘No.’ Simon grinned. ‘I could never mistake you for that. You take a special pride in living your life to the full. As for me, I couldn’t agree more. That’s what life’s all about. But before we do go in and meet her, I think we should discuss who I am.’
‘Okay, Mr Secret Agent,’ she said, throwing a mock salute. ‘How do you want to play this?’ She smiled, sliding her hand up the inside of his thigh and sticking her tongue in his ear.
He grabbed her hand and pulled his head away. ‘That’s not quite what I had in mind.’ He faked a frown, and then kissed her quickly. ‘Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe later. This is serious. I know you’ve spoken to her on the ‘phone, but your mother can’t know where I come from, nor my relation to Canaris and why I’m in England. That’s obvious enough. We’ll just have to say that I’m on sick leave from the army, and that we met recently, and that we’re madly in love or something like that.’
‘Have we? Are we?’ She said coolly, looking from underneath her eyebrows. ‘Lust, perhaps, but don’t get too presumptuous.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He grinned again and shook his head. ‘After all, what did Saint Augustine say - there’s nothing finer than lust.’
‘Did he? They never taught me that at school. All right then. Don’t mind her too much. She’ll make the usual fuss, but she means well. The fact that I very rarely bring home men should not be mistaken as a sign of great favour.’
‘Naturally,’ he said evenly. ‘I’ll always bear that in mind.’
She let off the handbrake and drove steadily forward. The car crested a small rise that led onto a gravel drive, and pulled up outside the main building. A woman was opening the front door. Medium
height, good figure, well dressed, Simon guessed her to be in her early fifties. As the car drew nearer, it became obvious to him that she still retained some of the beauty of her youth, and that her daughter had been equally blessed.
Patricia turned off the engine, got out and hurried over to where her mother stood, hugging and kissing her in a firm embrace. They both turned as Simon approached them, his footsteps crunching on the gravel.
‘Mum, this is Ma- err Richard. I told you about him on the telephone. Richard, this is my mother Victoria.’
‘Actually, call me Vicky.’ She smiled, extending a warm handshake. ‘Patricia tends to get a little formal when making introductions. That is, if she got your name right.’
Simon looked sideways at Patricia, and then recovered quickly. ‘Richard Hollingsworth, ma’am. It was just a slip of the tongue. Thanks so very much for allowing me to stay at your home. It’s absolutely delightful. I’m looking forward to staying here.’
‘Please - don’t be formal.’ She smiled again. ‘It’s Vicky from now on. Now come in, both of you. Leave your bags here- we’ll sort them out later.’ They walked inside the house. ‘I’m sure you must be tired from your journey. I would have thought the train would have been easier if not quicker. Surely that’s not your car’, she said, turning to Patricia. ‘You haven’t decided to buy one, have you?’
‘No, not yet anyway, mum. It would be nice to have one but the Underground is just too handy. Anyway, I managed to sweet talk my boss Arthur- you remember him from that summer party last year?’ Vicky nodded. ‘He’s always had a soft spot for me and so he lent me the car for a week or so.’
‘Heavens above! That was remarkably generous of him. Are you sure there wasn’t any ulterior motive?’ Vicky grinned in an old-fashioned way.
‘Mum!’ Patricia was mildly outraged. ‘He’s not like that at all. Well, admittedly he’s come out of his shell since his wife died last November, but all he sees in me is a sharp brain. I don’t think he fancies me. Besides, he’s almost twice my age!’
‘It’s never too late for an older man to act less than half his age, especially if he’s got someone as pretty as you to distract him’. Vicky turned to face Simon and smiled. ‘I’m sorry if we’re talking shop, but it’s rare these days that Patricia comes home, not with her job and the restrictions on travel because of the war. It’s so good to see her again for more than a just flying visit. I wonder how you managed to get enough petrol coupons to make the journey.’
‘It’s all right, mum. Arthur rarely uses the car these days, and it only took him a few calls to sort out the insurance. And it’s just as well we didn’t get the train. Getting a travel warrant at such short notice was proving impossible, and they’ve really tightened up the security at the stations recently. Everybody was having to produce identity cards and all the other usual paperwork. I almost despaired when Arthur suddenly volunteered that I could use his car.’
‘Did you have any trouble at this end?’
‘No, not really,’ Simon answered. ‘There was a lot of security as we got near, just off the main road. I gather it was all to do with preparations for the invasion. We were held up behind a lot of military transport, but Patricia got us through the checkpoints without a hitch. Seems she knows a lot of the local police. They knew who she was and where we were going.’
‘Good. That’s just as well. Security has been tight around here, ever since the Americans arrived in January. I’ll go and put the kettle on. In the meantime, Patricia can show you to your room- the usual guest room, darling. I’ve made the bed up and it’s all ready. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’
‘You’re very gracious, Vicky. Thanks once again.’ They turned and walked to the stairs, Patricia leading the way. At the top she turned left and led him along a corridor, and opened a door at the far end.
‘Here we are. This will be where you’re sleeping.’ The room was quite large, with a good view of the sea through the opened curtains. She flounced down on the bed and bounced a few times.
‘See- the good news is that the bed doesn’t squeak, so we won’t make too much noise-’
‘Speak for yourself!’
‘The bad news is that my mother will expect me to sleep in my own room. After all, this is the family home, and I’m expected to behave like a good girl. And as for you- ‘slip of the tongue’ indeed! I was getting quite excited there!’
‘Well,’ he laughed, ‘it serves you right. Getting my name wrong! I’ll bet your mum thinks I’m married and that you are protecting my identity or something ridiculous like that’.
‘Oh don’t worry! I don’t think it’s going to cause a problem. She’s quite broad minded, up to a point. I’m sure that as long as we’re discreet and quiet it won’t be a problem. Come on, let’s go back downstairs. I’m hungry. I haven’t had scones and clotted cream for ages, and my mum’s are the best. Last one downstairs is a boring old fart!’ With that she jumped up and whirled out of the room, leaving him standing there, a broad grin on his face. This was turning out better than he expected.
The week passed swiftly enough, indeed far too quickly. The old adage of time flying while one enjoyed oneself was never truer. The house was indeed beautiful, spacious and comfortable, and Patricia’s mother was the perfect host, kind, generous and wise enough not to ask too many searching questions about his background. The two of them spent the days on long walks along the coastal paths, relaxing and talking about their lives, or simply content to spend time quietly in each other’s company. Simon felt wonderfully invigorated by the combination of wholesome air and good country food in a relaxed and friendly setting. He finally began to feel that his luck was changing for the better, enough to make him worry far less about what the future would bring.
Each day made him feel stronger and fitter, more rested and refreshed than at almost any time in the last three years. A yearning sense of belonging here reminded him a little of what his own home life had been like, before the Nazis took over Germany and things began to change for the worse.
It amazed him how well he was getting on with Patricia. Their relationship had become intoxicating, a sweet inexorable addiction which was impossible to deny, even if he had the willpower to resist. It was like falling in love for the first time, but without the pain of adolescent disappointment. His troubles seemed remote, so far away as to be inconsequential. They delighted in sparking off each other’s personalities and reveling in the sense of fun they shared.
Nevertheless, the war could not be entirely divorced from their lives. Even in this rural idyll it was never too far away. The main roads in the area were crammed with military convoys. Coastal patrols, both aircraft and warships, were frequently sighted overhead and offshore, tasked with protecting the coastline against the possibility of enemy observation. Vicky mentioned that it was not all that long ago that an American troop landing exercise in preparation for the invasion had gone drastically wrong at nearby Slapton Sands. A daring raid by a flotilla of German E-boats had slipped inside the convoy and wreaked havoc, sinking assault craft and killing nearly seven hundred troops. Indeed, the invasion itself could not be far off, a fact that was patently obvious judging by the movement of trucks, tanks and guns all along the narrow roads.
Sometimes memories of his former experiences still intruded, despite his pleasant surroundings, catching him completely unawares. On Saturday night Vicky had gone to stay with some friends, sensing perhaps that the couple might want to spend some time on their own. After another session of intense lovemaking they had both fallen asleep, temporarily satiated in the blissful aftermath, only for him to awake several hours later with a nightmare about the Eastern Front. He had been trying to pull a friend out of the interior of a burning tank. But all he could do was gasp in horror as Wagner’s head and torso came away, leaving the rest of his body a pulpy bloody mess in the gunner’s seat. He had shot bolt upright in the bed, crying, sweating and shaking as his hands tried to grab what was left of his friend and pull him out from the inferno, his eyes unseeing, tears streaming down his face. Patricia was abruptly awakened by the disturbance. As soon as she realised his distress, she caressed and cradled him in her arms until he had calmed down and regained control of his senses and emotions. The sleep that followed almost completely washed away his memory of the dream. In the morning he was vaguely aware that something disquieting had happened during the night. But she spared him any embarrassment, telling him it had been nothing more than an illusion, a nightmare from the darkest corners of his mind. Nothing should come between them in spoiling the time they had together.
The day that followed was beautiful, a pleasant cloudless pastel shade of blue with the promise of heat to come. After a leisurely breakfast they spent the day in a small cove among the rocks, a private retreat known to very few, small enough to avoid the attentions of the local beach defences with their minefields and barbed wire. Patricia brought along a picnic lunch. Later on, when the food had gone down, she dragged him into the water that was still much too cold to swim in, despite the heat of the day. A game of water splashing quickly turned amorous, and they retreated behind a convenient rock to satisfy their lust. But surprisingly at the end she had rolled away from him, sobbing quietly, her shoulders heaving as her emotions spilled over.
He touched her but she shrugged him off, trying to laugh at her behaviour between tears.
‘I’m sorry. Is it something I’ve done?’ He said quietly.
‘No…No. It’s just me being silly,’ still keeping her head averted. ‘I’m a big girl. I know that we’ve not made promises, any commitments to each other or anything ridiculous like that, but I keep getting a premonition that you’ll go soon, and I may not see you again for a very long time. Am I being stupid?’
‘No, you’re not,’ he said. Suddenly he felt troubled, trapped by an inexorable fate that ground its way relentlessly towards them. ‘There’s something that I must see through, something in which I have little choice. I’d give anything to stay here with you, but if I did I would be hiding away from my duty, and possibly putting millions of lives at stake.’
‘I sensed it was important, the reason that you were sent here. Please tell me. It’s something to do with the invasion, isn’t it?’ She turned to look at him. Her wet hair had straightened her curls. The small amount of make up she used had streaked below her eyes. Her lips pouted. The overall effect was a strange contrast between a desirable, available erotic woman and a small defenceless child. He pulled her close to him and cradled her in his arms, her breasts rubbing against his.
He sighed deeply. ‘Alright, I’ll tell you what I can. The reason I’m here is that I have to go to a location in London on Thursday, and I must go alone. A meeting may take place. I cannot tell you who will be there, but if the right person does turn up, he may well pass over confirmation of where the invasion will take place. I get the strange feeling that he will, this time….’ He paused. ‘My job is to identify him, and…’ He fell silent.
‘What? Report back the landing site to your superiors?’ She twisted in his arms and pushed him away, a hot, angry, disbelieving look in her eyes. ‘Is that what they want you to do? Report back home? What about Canaris? You said you were on the same side as him? Was that a pack of lies to get me to let you in and stay?’
‘No, Patricia, absolutely not.’ He held her tightly, ignoring her struggling. ‘I have never lied to you, now or ever since we’ve met. I was just thinking back to what I would have done a few months ago. Then I would most likely have followed orders and done my duty- for Germany, not Hitler. And now I realise that his influence will have to be totally dest
royed before Germany’s sickness can be cured. If the information is genuine then it can never go back to my superiors, and the source providing it must be silenced. Permanently… For everybody’s sake. That’s my real mission.’
Despite the warmth of the sun, she shuddered. ‘So you‘ve finally decided which side you’re on?’
He kissed her forehead. “I think it’s gone well beyond that. It’s now the side that will do the least evil, and will bring this war to an end as soon as possible.That’s all I can hope to achieve. My father and Canaris feel the same way.’
‘So you have to go back?’
‘There’s no other choice. If this source of information is genuine, then my superiors must be fed the wrong information, convincingly. If I don’t go back it will look suspicious. And you can’t hide me until the war’s over. The risk to you is too great.’
‘But what happens if this is all an MI6 plot designed to flush you out?”
‘Then I’ll confess everything, plead clemency, and hope they don’t put me up in front of a firing squad.’
‘My God, I never suspected….’
‘No, darling,’ he said sadly, ‘I don’t think you did.’ As if to emphasize the moment, a veil of cloud drew across the sun, temporarily hiding it from view.
London Calling Page 23
