String of Pearls

by Madge Swindells

  Thirty-Three

  The weather was changing; the bitter cold of January had given way to windy days that were mainly grey. Living under canvas was always a pain, but the damp cold of an English winter made it so much worse. Mike began to notice new fears surfacing amongst his friends: first and foremost the fear of change. The young men knew that they were to be propelled into an unkind world. Perhaps because they dreaded leaving, the days were whizzing by faster and faster, leading them into the unknown. They might as well be going to another planet for all their beliefs and traditions would help them. The hitherto sacred concept of the sanctity of human life would no longer apply. They were about to become pawns: dispensable, disposable, disabled or deceased. What was a thousand lives lost, weighed against achieving long-term objectives? Life as they knew it was ending for the foreseeable future. This truth was beginning to slide into the guys’ consciousness, just as England’s cold humidity was seeping into their bones, making their joints ache. So they hid their fears, but they were always there, lurking around corners, waiting to catch them in their weaker moments, just like the aches in their joints.

  Mike had other worries and they were not of his personal survival, but of Daisy’s future. In spare moments he would count the weeks that had passed since Daisy could remember having a period. She wasn’t sure, she didn’t keep a record, what a bore it all was. Was it really possible that she could be so unconcerned about her altered state? Mike wondered. Perhaps it was a ploy to stop him from worrying. Yet she worried about her paintings. When she couldn’t get them just as she wanted, all hell broke loose.

  From the many calculations he had made, he reckoned she had conceived around about the end of November, in Brixham, when he’d climbed up that slippery corrugated iron roof to spend the night in her room. At the time, he’d felt as pleased as if he’d climbed Everest. So in mid-December she missed a period for the first time and in mid-January she missed it again. So she was six weeks gone. Early days. Anything could happen, according to a couple of married sergeants he had consulted. But nothing happened and in mid-February she missed her third period. It was time to get moving.

  Mike had been doing some research, aided and abetted by his closest pals. In England, anyone under twenty-one needed their parents’ permission to marry. Under the circumstances, Helen might very well give in, but Daisy refused to tell anyone about her pregnancy until they were married, and even after then no one should know until it showed, she vowed. He tried to talk her round, but she would not give in.

  From an expensive visit to a local lawyer in Claremont, he learned that different laws held sway in Scotland. They could marry there from sixteen years on and all they needed were their birth certificates. A day to drive there, a day to drive back, two nights at a hotel, separated in the first one, together in the second, and a day to get married. Mike put in for three days leave at the end of February, but leave was refused. He appealed on compassionate grounds, but Captain Rose was adamant. ‘All leave is cancelled for the foreseeable future. We have no idea when we’re moving and when we do we won’t get much notice,’ he told Mike.

  Mike’s stomach clenched. So soon! When he got over his fright he wondered how Daisy would cope as an unmarried mother.

  ‘I wouldn’t care. Not a jot,’ she told him that evening. ‘We’ll marry when you get back.’

  ‘If I get back,’ Mike muttered, when he was alone. Lately all their training was about coming in fast on landing craft in the face of enemy fire; wading through deep water carrying their gear; and moving from cover to cover to get out of the defenders’ range. This was where sergeants came in useful. They had to get their men off the beach as fast as they could. The quicker they moved, the more men they saved. No one considered they could save them all, but Mike kept this to himself.

  Everybody was scared and so was he, but no one talked about it. They quaked inwardly, but hid their fears. Watching his pals, Mike realized that this was true. He loved the guys and he wished he could blow away all their insecurity. They were young and had never been in a battle and his heart went out to them. The more he worried about them, the more his fears for himself evaporated. He was amazed by this strange transformation, but while his fears for his safety lessened, his fear for Daisy grew stronger every day.

  Finally he went to Simon and told him why he needed leave: that his girl was pregnant, and there was nothing they could do about that. ‘It wasn’t planned, sir. I tried to be careful. I slipped up badly, but we aim to get married right after the war.’

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Lawson. Are we talking about Daisy?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, sir. She doesn’t want me to.’

  ‘Does her mother know?’

  ‘She won’t tell anyone until we’re married.’

  ‘It’ll break Helen’s heart and as for John . . . he’ll never forgive you. His major fear is that the women in his life will marry Yanks and he’ll lose out. I guess marriage is your best plan. What about your parents? Have you told them?’

  ‘My mother died of cancer when I was a teenager. There’s just my dad. He knows about Daisy and he approves. I own half the shares of our ranch and we do all right. If Daisy can take to ranching we’ll be fine.’

  ‘And if she can’t?’

  ‘I’ve promised her I’ll try farming in England. I have a degree in agriculture.’

  ‘Yes, I know. OK, I’ll do my best, but you two must fly both ways. I need someone to demonstrate a new design of underwater diving equipment in Inverness. I’ll try to swing it so that you go instead of me. No promises, but I’ll see what I can do. You must leave and come back the same day. I’ll throw in Daisy’s airfare.’

  ‘Why, sir? Why should you do that?’

  ‘That’s my business, so don’t ask.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

  After that he received a curt note from Captain Johnson. It said simply: ‘March 30. Get organized with the bookings. Good luck.’

  Daisy was stunned when Mike calmly announced that they would be married in Inverness the following week. He had written to Inverness Magistrate’s Court to obtain the licence and he had booked their flights. When he explained about the total ban on all leave and the demonstration he must give on a new alternator, Daisy hugged him. ‘You’re a genius,’ she said. ‘I always knew you were.’ Mike felt bad about stealing the Captain’s thunder, but since he’d been told to leave Simon out of it, he endured her adoration as best he could.

  Daisy could not help remembering what might have been when she stood in the plain room in Inverness Magistrates Court, for the simple ceremony, which lasted for five minutes, with two clerks as witnesses. Her mother had always planned a white wedding with a guest list running to a thousand, but it was best not to think about what might have been, she decided, as she pledged her life to Mike.

  After their marriage ceremony, they drove in a hired car to a hotel overlooking Loch Ness, where Mike had arranged to meet a group of GIs who were trained in scuba diving. Leaving Daisy in the lounge with coffee and biscuits, Mike met his team at the reception desk and they walked down to the water’s edge shouldering the gear.

  Daisy watched him leave and then made her way to the public telephone to call her mother. Twice she picked up the receiver, only to replace it. She felt truly embarrassed. Mum would be furious, but she would also be worried. Daisy had crept out of the house at five that morning, leaving a note for her mother which read, simply: ‘Gone to get married in Scotland. Back tonight. Love, Daisy.’ Despite her bravado, she was deeply ashamed at being pregnant and unmarried.

  But she was married, she reminded herself. It seemed unbelievable, despite the two rings on her finger. Mrs Lawson. Mrs Daisy Lawson. Murmuring the words a few times made her feel a trifle braver. Until recently she had been in a state of denial about her pregnancy, but now she allowed herself to consider the baby that was growing inside her. Or perhaps it was all a mistake. There must be other reasons for missing periods, morning
sickness and putting on weight, but Mike said there weren’t. She shivered as she thought about Mum. Gramps would be furious, but this had nothing to do with him. But what about her mother? She loved her so much and she wanted to look good in her eyes. Mum adored her and had always been a good mother. Daisy was spoiled, she knew that, and she knew, too, that she had been particularly hateful to Mum when Dad disappeared.

  Losing her courage, Daisy sank into a chair beside the telephone and covered her face with her hands.

  At that moment, Helen, too, was trying to hold back her tears as she told Simon about her daughter’s note. She looked shrivelled and red-eyed and he guessed that the note had hit her hard – or was it the rejection?

  ‘How could Daisy do this to me?’ she wailed.

  ‘What else could she do since she’s pregnant?’

  ‘Pregnant!’ She was so astonished, she stood staring at Simon with her mouth open.

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he hastily corrected himself. ‘It’s what I assumed. It’s a little over three months since she followed Mike to Brixham. I noticed she’s getting plump. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I didn’t . . .’ Helen’s voice tailed off. ‘You don’t understand how we feel about these things. One expects nicely brought up girls to remain virgins until they marry. It’s simply not acceptable not to obey the rules.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s the same in the States, but don’t you think that things change in wartime? She was living with the land girls for a while. They probably influenced her, too. Anyway, she’s almost eighteen.’

  ‘Seventeen and a half. It doesn’t matter what age she is, it’s simply unacceptable.’

  ‘I suppose that’s why she was too scared to tell you.’

  ‘Scared of me?’

  ‘Of course. You seem to be hidebound in tradition and social mores. Daisy’s an artist. She’s a little bit different.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Yes.’ He said firmly. ‘Do your friends feel as you do?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then why don’t you have another ceremony here?’

  ‘Because you can’t marry under eighteen.’

  ‘But she’s married by now. It wouldn’t be illegal to bless the marriage. How about I pop down to see your local vicar and if he won’t play ball, our chaplain sure as hell will. Get a nice wedding dress and have a reception. I would, if I were you. It would launch them nicely and keep local tongues from wagging. Something great for both of them to look back on.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know . . .’ Helen frowned out of the window, not able to look at Simon.

  ‘Nothing can be changed, so you might as well accept it graciously, as Daisy did when Eric walked out on you.’

  She gasped and was about to retort, but changed her mind. ‘She could wear my wedding dress. It’s lovely. I have it packed in a trunk upstairs in the attic.’

  ‘Well then! I can organize the reception.’

  ‘Certainly not. We’ll have it at the Mowbray Heights and John and I will organize it, but you will be our first invited guest. You can double as her father.’

  ‘I’d be honoured.’

  The telephone rang at that moment. Helen answered it, longing to hear Daisy’s voice, but it was a voice she didn’t recognize.

  ‘Is that Mrs Helen Conroy?’

  ‘Yes it is.’

  ‘I have a Mrs Daisy Lawson on the line. Here she is.’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Daisy, darling. Congratulations. Hurry home. I’m missing you already.’ Helen bit her lip and hung on to her cool.

  ‘Mum, I’m sorry.’ Daisy sounded tearful.

  ‘How are you getting back?’

  ‘By plane, Mum. We’re being flown to Edinburgh by a US shuttle flight and we have our return tickets for the shuttle from Edinburgh to Croydon. Mike left the jeep there.’

  ‘But why Inverness? Most folks who elope opt for the closest town across the border, which is Gretna Green.’

  ‘Well, we had to get here somehow. Mike couldn’t get leave. All leave has been cancelled. So he managed to be chosen to take up and demonstrate some new underwater diving equipment. It’s a bit hush-hush. I shouldn’t have told you that.’

  ‘Never mind, darling. I didn’t hear. Just make sure you don’t miss the plane. See you later. You can stay here with Mike since you’re a married woman now. That’s if he can leave his base, of course. I’ve been planning a white wedding ceremony for you, just to bless your marriage. We’ll have a reception at the hotel, if you like. It would please me so much.’

  ‘Oh Mum.’ Daisy burst into tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry on your wedding day. See you soon, Daisy. I love you. Take care.’ Helen replaced the receiver.

  ‘A scuba diving demo?’ She glared accusingly at Simon.

  ‘We’re due to leave any time for the invasion. Mike might be killed. We’re expecting heavy casualties. Better a widow than an unmarried mother.’

  ‘Oh my God! Don’t say that. Let’s pray that they have a long and happy life together in Denver,’ she said sternly. ‘But thank you, Simon. Just one thing . . . why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Mike was sworn to secrecy. Daisy has no idea that he had to wangle this through me and I feel that it’s better that she doesn’t find out. She insisted that she would tell you after she was married, but all leave is cancelled, so they couldn’t get to Scotland. It was a no go situation.’

  ‘Thank you, Simon. You have planned a very neat solution to a very tricky problem.’

  Helen lost no time in organizing the church and reception, because no one knew for sure exactly when the bridegroom would be gone. A traditional wedding with the wider family was out of the question. Helen’s and Eric’s family were spread all over Britain and due to travel restrictions to the South of England, they were unable to attend, although invitations were sent to everyone. Mike’s buddies and Helen’s friends from the canteen and the armaments factory, and Daisy’s and Miro’s school friends and several of John’s old buddies, filled the church to overflowing. The reception began at eight and went on until after midnight. Later they played the latest hits and the mood became sentimental. Clasped in Mike’s arms, dancing to the mellow strains of ‘Moonlight Serenade’, Daisy thought her heart would burst with happiness.

  Thirty-Four

  The PWE, government agents and Simon had agreed that the spy, Brannigan, alias Paddy, had outlived his usefulness and was to be arrested as soon as he showed up in Claremont, but he did not return from his trip to Ireland. Since the end of January, Miro had been waiting in the pillbox every Wednesday night, but Brannigan had gone to ground. MI5 agents were watching his home, his shop, his usual haunts and his friends, but there had been no sign of him. Only his boat had quietly disappeared from its mooring at the beginning of March.

  Simon knew that Miro was in danger and he worried about the boy most of the time. Miro had done a wonderful job. It was time to pull him in, but PWE and MI5 wanted him left just where he was.

  ‘But why?’ Simon exploded at a PWE meeting when yet another month had passed.

  ‘You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Simon. Brannigan’s attitude towards Miro will show us whether or not he’s learned about our massive scam. If he or his controllers suspect Miro, they’ll attempt to kill him and then we’ll know. If they carry on as usual, it’s OK. Hundreds of thousands of lives are at stake. Surely you can see where our priorities lie?’

  ‘I’ll pull him in myself,’ Simon retorted in a fit of anguish.

  ‘Miro knows the score. He won’t agree. Our scam is at stake and so are his parents.’

  They were right, as Simon found out shortly afterwards, when he tried to talk Miro into throwing in the towel. Simon had to endure his guilt as best he could.

  On a cold morning early in May, Miro showered, dressed and went outside to fetch the mail from the gate, which was his morning chore. A
note, delivered by hand in a plain envelope addressed to M. Levy, was lying in the letterbox amongst the letters and bills. It read: ‘Be at the car park at Claremont fishing harbour at 10 p.m., Tuesday night.’ A wave of fear shot through him, leaving him weak-kneed and gasping for air. Pulling himself together, Miro sauntered back to the house.

  ‘How does the bastard know that it’s me who collects the mail?’ Miro asked Simon, who was sitting at the breakfast table. ‘Has he been here watching the house, or perhaps there are more of them.’

  ‘Right on both counts. You can be sure of that,’ Simon said quietly, indicating with his thumb that Helen was in the scullery. He held his hand out for the note and thrust it in his pocket. ‘I’ll speak to you tonight. Meantime forget about this,’ he murmured.

  Brannigan’s note created a few moments of absolute pleasure to the PWE agents when Simon arrived and passed it round. The spy had served his purpose. Further disinformation might prejudice their scam. Now he had to be picked up, interrogated and put out of harm’s way. It was considered vital that they arrest him to find out whether or not he knew the info he’d been passing on was suspect. Hundreds of thousands of lives were at stake.

  ‘Let Miro meet him and give them some time together. Miro must deduce whether or not he knows he’s been fooled. Miro is the only chance we have,’ Alf said. ‘We could pick him up in Claremont when he comes to meet the boy.’

  ‘So we’re offering Miro as a live sacrifice,’ Simon said angrily.

  ‘Not if you have a better idea.’

  There wasn’t a better idea, as Simon knew.

  It was decided that Miro should meet Brannigan, but their agents would keep tabs on him, giving Miro enough time to deduce whether or not his cover was blown. They would then attempt to rescue him.

  Simon didn’t like the plan, but being the boy’s friend was not a reason for vetoing it – not when soldiers only a year older than him were about to invade the European mainland and die in their thousands.

  That night he found Miro alone in the stables and told him the plan. ‘Listen carefully. What we need to know is whether or not Paddy has learned that the info we’ve been feeding him about the invasion was disinformation. You’re very sensitive – very perceptive – but you don’t always trust your instinct. You should. You’ll be able to deduce his mood pretty quickly. Then get out, no matter where you are. I suspect he’ll lure you on to his boat. In my room I have a couple of distress rockets. They’re new and small. They’d fit into your trouser pocket, so if he tries to search you, jump overboard! These things are waterproof. Wherever you are, all you have to do is press the button. The flare will lead us to you.’