‘I’m a bit homeless currently,’ he stated, ‘they took my boxes to the new office last evening, but I can’t move in until tomorrow, so I’m trying to keep out of mischief today. I’m not really succeeding, though.’ He gave a puckish smile. ‘I gave the flyboys heart failure when I turned up and started prying into their darkest secrets. They wanted to know how I knew about Toby’s crash, but I kept them guessing by hinting at security. Eventually, I told them that, because Toby’s plane had crashed into the sea, the investigation came under the jurisdiction of the navy, and the chump to whom I was talking actually believed me!
‘Anyway, they have promised to come back with chapter and verse; God knows how long it’ll take! Oh, I found out what your squadron leader chappie does for a living: he investigates air accidents. So if today’s news is typical, I presume he will be busier than usual before very long.’
They chatted for a while as Simon told Alex that there would be a final briefing on Saturday afternoon, before being taken to Felixstowe on Sunday.
‘I thought I was going from Tilbury?’ Alex queried.
‘You were, but the Swedish shipping company does not want to risk being bombed, so they are refusing to come into the Thames estuary, hence Felixstowe. You will stay overnight in a hotel in Suffolk, ready to embark early on Monday morning; the Swedish captain wants to be in international waters as quickly as possible.’
Alex has been trying to hide from the realisation that he would be on foreign soil by this time next week and was about to begin a dangerous episode in his life; he realised how little time he had left with Teddy and resolved to enjoy every last second of the time they had together. They had agreed to meet at Swan and Edgar’s in Piccadilly Circus at 2.30pm, and the time was already approaching 2.00pm, so he bade Simon farewell, left the War Office and jumped in the back of a cab that had just delivered a colonel to the front of the building. He just about arrived on time and took up a position in the middle archway, looking onto Piccadilly Circus, to wait for his fiancée.
It was 2.40pm by the time Teddy arrived, and Alex was starting to resent Teddy’s constant lack of punctuality, but they kissed in welcome and went into the store. They were genuinely enjoying being in each other’s company, and shopping seemed not to matter. Alex bought Teddy a silk scarf, and she brought him a gentleman’s travelling compendium, containing everything that a well-groomed gentleman would need to remain so; most importantly, it included a razor, so he could dispense with Toby’s hand-me-downs and use his own. The case was finely crafted leather with a cartouche on the front for his initials, which Teddy insisted should be embossed. He merely chose ‘AC’ to be imprinted on the case.
After they left the store and were walking up Regent Street, Alex gazed into a jeweller’s window and a sweetheart brooch took his eye, which comprised a gold fouled anchor surrounded by a silver wreath of reeds, surmounted by a royal crown. He took Teddy by the arm and guided her into the store, where he asked the assistant for a closer look at the brooch. The craftsmanship was superbly delicate, and it was made from fourteen-carat gold and silver; it was exceptional. Alex wasted no time in buying it, writing a cheque for the full amount, as the price was considerably higher than the cash he had in his wallet. He pinned the brooch to the lapel of Teddy’s jacket and told her that as long as she wore this brooch he would be safe and thinking of her, and she fought back the tears as she promised him that she would never be without it.
They ate dinner in a quiet seafood restaurant in Denman Street before walking back to Piccadilly Circus and catching the bus to get home for an early night; they were in bed by 10.00pm.
*
Thursday brought a day of mixed fortunes. Teddy awoke feeling queasy, blaming the fish from the previous night as the likely cause. Alex’s head was throbbing, which he blamed on the quality (or more likely the quantity) of the wine. The Countess Tatiana Ivanovna telephoned to postpone afternoon tea, which Alex had promised rashly to take her to the last time he saw her, but gave no reason. Finally, to top it all, Miss Willoughby telephoned to instruct Alex to present himself at St Ermine’s Hotel in Caxton Street, St James, at 2.00pm, without giving any information about why.
Alex was vaguely aware that St Ermine’s Hotel was used extensively by the Security Service, due to its proximity to Broadway Buildings, as both a discreet meeting place and as temporary overspill accommodation.
*
Alex left early for his meeting and arrived at the foyer of the hotel half an hour before the time it was scheduled for. He presumed that his meeting was with Commander Jeffers, but when he gave his name at reception, the receptionist said that Colonel Swann was running to schedule. Alex took a seat, picked up a copy of The Times, and flicked through the pages, not actually reading anything in particular.
At 2.00pm precisely, he was collected and shown to a small meeting room on the ground floor. Both Colonel Swann and Commander Jeffers were present, and Alex was invited to sit on the remaining chair.
‘I thought we would take this opportunity to discuss your progress,’ began Colonel Swann evenly, ‘How do you feel things are developing?’
‘Well enough, sir; I’m looking forward to getting started,’ Alex stated, trying to sound eager, and if they noticed the untruth, they chose not to comment.
‘We have a few concerns,’ the commander commented, ‘We are not quite sure that you are ready.’
Alex was shocked; he thought he was amply ready to undertake his mission.
Changing tack, the colonel continued, ‘Commander Jeffers tells me that you are to be married.’ It was given as a statement, but there was a definite question involved.
‘Yes, sir,’ Alex responded.
‘This article that you wrote and gave to Lieutenant Potts yesterday…’ The colonel seemed to be bouncing from one topic to another.
‘Yes, sir,’ Alex repeated.
‘It’s bloody awful!’ the colonel continued in a raised voice, ‘It’s full of grammatical errors, has spelling mistakes that a ten-year-old would not make, is too long by at least a third, and thoroughly amateurish!
‘This is why we do not like our chaps to get involved with girls. You have undoubtedly spent your spare time shagging and ignoring your responsibilities! It’s not bloody good enough!’ The colonel was now at full steam.
Alex was shocked by his tone; he was certainly not used to being spoken to in such a manner.
The colonel went on, ‘If we sent you out like this, you would be unmasked as an impostor in no time. At best, they might shoot you; at worst, they would torture you before they shot you! Either way, you would be no fucking good to us at all! Christ! I give up! Do you want to fucking die?’
‘Of course not, sir,’ Alex responded, lading the word ‘sir’ with as much contempt as he could muster.
‘We’ll stop fucking about, then!’ the colonel bellowed, before storming from the room and slamming the door.
A minute or so later, he returned, having regained some of his composure and resumed his seat.
Commander Jeffers continued evenly, ‘You are going back to the Grange on Saturday to polish your rough edges. I’m sure they will get you ready for deployment, but the absolute maximum you will have is a month – hopefully less – as every day you are delayed is costing us valuable time.’
‘And, sonny, if you fuck this up, I will ship you out to the arse end of beyond, which would likely save me from ever setting eyes on you again! Now, get out and report to Lieutenant Potts in Victoria,’ the colonel barked.
Alex rose and saluted before leaving the room. Only after he had left did Alex realise that he did not know where on Victoria Street Simon’s office was located, but he would be damned if he was going back to ask.
The door opened, and Commander Jeffers came out and said to Alex, ‘You truly are a bloody fool; your assignment is crucially important, and the sanction has come from Churchill himself. Now he’s goi
ng to have to explain why it has been put back again. It is no wonder that Swann is exasperated with you; he was ready to send you back to general service. Luckily, we persuaded him to give you another chance – but this will be your last. Winston doesn’t tolerate failure!
‘Go back to the Grange, perfect your skills, take everything on board and be grateful that nothing of this will appear in your record. It is forgotten and will never be brought up again unless you screw up once more, then it will come back to haunt you with a vengeance.’
He told Alex where to find Simon Potts, and shook his hand. ‘Good luck,’ he said.
Alex set off to report in with Simon.
*
When Alex arrived, Simon was busily trying to sort out his new office, which at least had the benefit of being a slightly larger cupboard than he had previously occupied. ‘Bad, was it?’ he enquired.
Alex rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘bad enough’.
‘Did you get offered tea?’ Simon asked, but, as Alex looked bemused, Simon took it to be negative. ‘A serious bollocking, then – not may survive those!’ He smiled.
Simon continued, ‘About the matter of Toby. Your friend Clive Lloyd-James helped with the investigation of Toby’s accident and what he told you was true; Teddy’s brother was the casualty of another pilot’s error, and if the other pilot had not managed to limp back to the base, it’s unlikely anyone would have known his fate. They found Toby’s Blenheim last week, by the way, and, as it is reasonably accessible, they plan to recover it shortly to corroborate the other pilot’s account.
‘Information about the accident was restricted until they decided whether they were going to court-martial the other pilot, which they are not – even though he was at fault – as pilots are in short supply, apparently, even bad ones. The RAF has written it up as an accident, but at least Toby’s family can be told the truth and can bury their son.
‘Regarding Clive Lloyd-James, he has put up an enormous black, and I understand that he is being transferred to somewhere considerably less pleasant than Lincolnshire. There are rumours of Warsaw!’
Alex was unsure whether Simon was joking or not. Alex listened to the story and asked if he might tell Teddy.
Simon replied that, although the family would be notified officially by the RAF, sometimes bad news is better delivered by someone they know. The clear inference being that they were passing the buck to Alex.
*
For Alex’s homeward journey, following the conclusion of his meeting with Simon, taking the District Line back to Kensington was a matter of going five stations to Earls Court. Throughout the journey, Alex pondered on how best to tell Teddy. He was in a reflective mood as he walked up the Earls Court Road and crossed Cromwell Road. On the way, he bought the most massive bunch of flowers he could find, to brighten Teddy’s flat and to soften the blow.
When he reached the flat, he discovered that Teddy seemed much brighter than she had been when he left, and her face lit up with an enormous smile when she saw the flowers.
‘For me?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he replied teasingly, ‘for me, actually. Miss Willoughby has an enormous crush on me, and she bought them for me as a mark of her undying love!’
Teddy laughed and scooped the flowers out of Alex’s arms, taking them into the kitchen to put them in vases. From the kitchen, she called to Alex, ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Not really,’ he replied, ‘and I don’t think it is going to improve. I need to see your father and mother.’
Teddy left the flowers and came into the lounge with a look of concern on her face. ‘You actually want to see my father? Are you mad? Nobody wants to see my father; most people go out of their way to avoid him!’
Alex took Teddy by the hand, and he sat with her on the sofa. ‘I have news of Toby.’
Teddy could tell by his tone that a miracle had not occurred and that the news was not good, and she started to cry. Alex held her close to him and told her what he had learned earlier, all the time feeling each of her sobs like a knife driven into his body.
He concluded, ‘So I have to see your father and mother.’
Teddy rose, picked up the telephone and asked for her parent’s telephone number. She hoped earnestly that it would be her mother who would answer the telephone, but it was not, and she could not stand talking to her father.
She held the telephone receiver out for Alex, and by the time reached it he could clearly hear Teddy’s father barking, ‘Hello!’ with increasing volume.
‘Sir,’ he began, ‘my name is Alexander Carlton, whom you may remember to be Theodora’s friend.’
The sound of a volcano in the throes of eruption emanated from the telephone receiver.
Alex continued undaunted, ‘I must come to see you and your wife about an unrelated matter that is rather pressing. I intend that we will visit you at 7.00pm this evening.’
The rumbling from the telephone was approaching the crescendo of a roar, which Alex chose to take as grudging acceptance of his arrangements, so he bade Teddy’s father a polite goodbye, and replaced the receiver.
Teddy watched him with the mixed emotions of sadness and awe clouding her beauty.
XIX
Teddy got dressed to go out, and Alex smartened himself, metaphorically ensuring that he had his armour correctly adjusted before the battle, and they left with plenty of time to arrive early. They had decided to take a taxi and managed to secure one soon after leaving the flat. When they arrived, Teddy’s parent’s house surprised Alex; it was an elegant, detached Victorian villa in a leafy avenue of Wimbledon, not far from where they hold the tennis championships. The flowery front garden was manicured perfection, and the house exuded quiet affluence. Alex paid off the cabbie, they both got out, and, holding Teddy’s hand, they started to walk towards the house.
The door opened, and Teddy’s father stood there with an expression that was far from welcoming. He ignored Alex’s offered hand and stepped back wordlessly to allow them to enter. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
‘What do you want?’ demanded Teddy’s father, ‘I have nothing to say to either you, so say your piece and get out.’
Alex had hoped to talk with both her parents at the same time, but it was clear that the hostility being directed towards him by Teddy’s father would make matters impossible.
When Teddy had sat next to her mother, Alex turned to her father and said, ‘I wish to speak to you privately, sir. Is there somewhere we can go?’ He opened the door, and went into the hallway, giving Teddy’s father little option but to follow.
When Teddy’s father joined him, and without giving him the opportunity to open the conversation, Alex merely said, ‘I have news of your son, Toby.’
The look on the brigadier’s face was one of stunned surprise. ‘What news?’ he struggled to say, eventually.
Alex led him into the dining room for privacy. He recounted the story that Simon had told him earlier, emphasising that the reason why Operations had chosen Toby for this particular job was that he was the best pilot in the squadron. Sadly, the other pilot was not so accomplished. Alex reiterated and emphasised that Toby’s death had been a tragic accident, and concluded by saying that the RAF had found Toby’s aeroplane, and naval divers were recovering the bodies of all those on board. He confirmed that, subject to there being no complications, they would be released to the next-of-kin for burial shortly.
To say that Teddy’s father crumpled at the news would be an overstatement, but there was a definite change in the man and a slight, if very slight, softening in his manner.
‘That was good of you.’ The words sounded as though they were dragged from his mouth, like the pulling of teeth. ‘I appreciate that it could not have been easy. Tell me, how do you know about this? I was led to believe that Toby was merely missing?’
Alex looked at his fi
ancée’s father and said quietly but apologetically, ‘I am sorry, sir, but I cannot tell you how I know.’
A sudden realisation hit the brigadier as he comprehended the significance of those few words, he outstretched his hand, and Alex took it, before the brigadier said, ‘Thank you.’
The men returned to join the ladies, and it was clear that Teddy had broken the news to her mother, who was holding a handkerchief against her nose and using it to dab the tears away before they rolled down her cheeks. The brigadier explained that Alex had told him of Toby’s fate, and, to both Alex’s and Teddy’s surprise, he offered everybody a glass of sherry. With their glasses charged, they drank a toast to the memory of Toby Palmer.
Teddy and Alex refused an invitation to stay for dinner, appreciating that her parents had made the offer out of politeness, and if accepted, would have meant Teddy’s mother was trying to stretch a meal that she had only intended for her and her husband. So, they gave the excuse of having a prior engagement from which they could not escape and left, to allow Teddy’s parents the opportunity of coming to terms with their grief. They had been in the Wimbledon house for less than twenty minutes.
As they walked away, holding hands, Alex was preoccupied with the events of the day, and he did not notice that Teddy’s make-up was disintegrating under the tears that were streaming down her face. It was only when she sobbed noticeably that Alex looked down and saw her distress.
He held her to him, wrapping his arms protectively around her slender frame, and smiled. ‘Come on, old girl, chin up… Everything will be all right; you wait and see.’
‘I am so worried,’ she confided in Alex, ‘Toby was one of the most careful people that ever walked this earth, and yet his life was snuffed out in a trice by the careless act of another. I know you promised that you would take care, but will others take as much care not to hurt you? I am so afraid that when you leave on Saturday, it will be the last time I see you. I don’t know how I could continue. Life can be so cruel.’
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