The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

by G. D. Falksen

  Cold fear began to ache in Kitty’s stomach. She had always known this sort of work might be dangerous, but she had never put much thought into just what that meant.

  Mrs. Singh must have noticed Kitty’s distress, because she took Kitty’s hand and said, “I promise that Pryce and I will do everything in our power to avoid putting you in immediate danger. We certainly won’t send you to chase down Russian assassins. But there may be times when we give you an assignment that we believe to be safe, and we turn out to be wrong. In that situation, you will need to be able to protect yourself. And Kitty . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me be clear about something else. If you are ever in danger, your priority is getting yourself back safely. Finish the mission if you can, but it’s more important to get out alive. We can always form a new plan. But we can’t get a new Kitty, can we?”

  “No, I s’pose not,” Kitty agreed, laughing softly at the joke. It helped relieve some of the fear. But only some of it.

  Mrs. Singh turned serious again. “Remember, if you’re fighting someone bigger and stronger than you, there is no such thing as ‘fair play.’ The notion of a fair fight was invented by someone who knew they were going to win. So you do anything you have to do to get out, just like I’ve taught you. Go for your enemy’s face, go for his eyes, kick him between the legs. You probably won’t be able to punch as hard as him, so use your knees and elbows to make up the difference.”

  Kitty nodded to show that she understood. They were all techniques that Mrs. Singh had shown her before, only now the reason for learning them was becoming much clearer.

  “If you can get your hands on a weapon, then you use it,” Mrs. Singh continued. “Anything ready to hand: a rock, a pipe, anything. You grab it, you hit your enemy in the head, and you run.”

  “I understand,” Kitty said.

  “If you have to run, what do you do then?”

  “Uh, evade detection, get to a safe place, notify HQ. Right?”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Singh said.

  Kitty smiled, pleased that she had remembered correctly. “And then ’tis back home for tea and biscuits, wot?” she added, mimicking Mrs. Singh’s Mayfair accent.

  The moment the words left her mouth, she felt foolish.

  Mrs. Singh gave her an astonished stare. “What was that?”

  “Sorry, missis!” Kitty exclaimed. She put a hand over her mouth, but the damage had already been done. “I didn’t mean to, only . . .”

  “That was supposed to be me, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Singh asked. “That’s what I sound like.”

  Kitty cringed. “Yes, missis. I’m so sorry! I know it’s rude!”

  “That was actually quite good,” Mrs. Singh said. “Do it again.”

  “What?” Kitty didn’t believe her ears.

  “Let me hear you do it again.”

  It took Kitty a few moments to summon up her courage. Was Mrs. Singh playing a game with her now? Surely she’d been insulted. When Kitty had mimicked people as a child, it had made her father furious.

  “I say,” Kitty said hesitantly, “aren’t we all having a grand time down at the Royal Ascot this evening? My word, but hasn’t Princess Margaret got a lovely hat?”

  Now it was Mrs. Singh’s turn to cover her mouth with her hand, as she snickered with genuine amusement. “Well, we shall have to work on your phrasing, but I am impressed. Can you do Pryce?”

  “Uh . . .” Kitty cleared her throat and did her best approximation of Pryce’s calm, genial voice. “Goodness, Mrs. Singh, I fear the Russians have made off with our state secrets, and also my very valuable bowler hat.” Kitty winced as soon as she had spoken.

  Mrs. Singh laughed again. “Now that was very good. You’re something of a mimic, aren’t you?”

  “I s’pose so,” Kitty mumbled. “Used to do it all the time. Only me da hated it, so I stopped.”

  “Damn foolish of him, I say.” Mrs. Singh was quiet for a little while, mulling something over. “I tell you what, Kitty. Are you willing to practice it? To try learning specific accents?”

  “If you think I should,” Kitty said, surprised. “Would that be ’elpful?”

  “Helpful doesn’t even come close,” Mrs. Singh said. “To be a spy, you have to convince people that you’re someone you are not. Looking the part and sounding the part is the first big hurdle, and I think you might have an unexpected edge in that. If I give you some language tapes, will you practice with them and try to learn the accents?”

  “ ’Course!” Kitty exclaimed. “You mean it might be useful for somethin’?”

  “It could be extremely useful, depending on how many accents you can do it with, and how well you can keep it up.” Mrs. Singh stood and offered Kitty a hand. “But enough talk of that. Are you ready for another round of sparring?”

  Kitty sprang to her feet, determined to keep her composure this time.

  “I’m ready for ten rounds, if that’s what it takes!”

  Chapter 13

  “Right,” Faith said to Kitty, waving a ballpoint pen under her nose. “You’re in the room, something important is happening that you need recorded, what do you do?”

  Kitty took the pen and turned it over between her fingers, trying to remember the instructions.

  “Um, three clicks to turn the recorder on,” she said, as she did it. Click. Click. Click. Recorder on. “Let it play.” She held the pen up to her mouth and whispered. “’Ello, ’ello? Can you ’ear me, me?”

  Faith smirked at her. “Just do the job, no messing about.”

  “Three more clicks to turn it off,” Kitty finished. Click. Click. Click. Recorder off.

  She handed the pen back to Faith, who fiddled with it and played back the message. It was a little muffled, but it came through clear enough.

  “Just like that,” Faith said. “Remember, there’s not much tape in the pen because it’s so small. If you need to record a long conversation . . . ?”

  “I use the larger one in me makeup case.”

  “You got it!” Faith said.

  “Pen’s nice an’ all, but when do I get one of them pocket flamethrowers?” Kitty teased.

  Faith made a face and huffed softly. “I’m not allowed to experiment with them anymore. I was so bloody close, Kitty! Not my fault the thing blew up on the testing ground.”

  “Could make it a pocket grenade,” Kitty suggested.

  “Ooo! That is a thought,” Faith agreed. She grabbed for a pencil and paper. “Note to self: thermite cigarette lighter.”

  As Faith began scribbling a chaotic collection of words and designs on the scrap paper, Tommy raced into the workshop.

  “The Old Man’s on his way!” he exclaimed. “We need the package!”

  Kitty blinked a couple of times. The name didn’t mean anything to her, but at its mention, Faith practically dropped everything she was holding and started rummaging around her table.

  “Oh hell,” Faith muttered. “Thought I had more time.” After some frantic searching, she produced a little wooden tea chest from the bottom of a crate on the floor. “Got it! Where’s the tea?”

  Liam appeared in the doorway beside Tommy, carrying a porcelain tea service on a tray. The little cups rattled in their saucers, and Kitty heard water sloshing around in the teapot.

  “Tea’s ready!” Liam reported. “Water’s piping hot.”

  Faith raced across the workshop and plopped the tea chest onto the tray. “Where are they?”

  “Just arrived,” Tommy said. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Saw ’em come down in the lift on me way over. They’ll be in Pryce’s office by now.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Kitty asked, as she joined the others.

  “Mr. Pryce is getting a visit from the Old Man,” Faith explained. “Big mission, apparently. Private meeting, even Mrs. Singh’s not allowed in. We’re going to deliver Mr. Pryce a nice pot of tea while they chat.”

  That sounded reasonable, and very kind too, so Kitty nodded. “Who
’s the Old Man?” she asked.

  “Pryce’s boss,” Tommy replied. “See, we all work for Pryce, Pryce works for the Old Man, and the Old Man works for the Minister. Old Man’s a really important toff. Oxford fella, from what I hear. Been doin’ spy work since before the War.”

  “Right, I’ll take the tea over to the office,” said Liam. “Back in a jiffy.”

  “No, no, no!” Faith shook her head. “Can’t have you bring it in. Kitty should do it.”

  “Me?” Kitty asked, as Faith took the tray from Liam and placed it in her hands. “Why me?”

  “Um, because your sunny personality is much better than Liam’s,” Faith said quickly. She gave Kitty a gentle push toward the door. “Now go on, take this to Pryce’s office quick as you can, and then come right back here. Got it?”

  “Fine,” Kitty answered.

  Something about all of this nagged at her as she went into the hallway, but it wasn’t coherent enough to puzzle out. Faith and the boys weren’t acting suspicious per se, but Kitty rather felt like she ought to find it suspicious. That was the odd part. Still, nothing to be done but to get the delivery over with.

  She hurried along to Mr. Pryce’s office and tapped at the door with her foot. It wasn’t the most genteel way of knocking, but with her hands full she didn’t have much of a choice. There was a long silence and suddenly Kitty was afraid she hadn’t been heard. She drew back her foot to give another kick and the door suddenly opened, revealing the bewildered face of Mr. Pryce.

  “Kitty? Goodness me, what are you doing?” he exclaimed.

  Kitty slowly lowered her foot to the ground. “Um, I’ve brought some tea, sir. They said you ’ad company, so . . .”

  “Oh.” Mr. Pryce absorbed this and then smiled. “Well, that’s very good of you, Kitty. Thank you.”

  “No trouble, sir. Just wantin’ to be of use,” Kitty said.

  She glanced past Mr. Pryce and into the office. It was hard to see clearly since the door was only half open, but she caught sight of two more men inside. One was a stiff-backed military man around Mr. Pryce’s age. He had a very severe face and the eyes to match, a seemingly permanent grimace, and a neat little mustache that was so expertly groomed it made Kitty uncomfortable to look at it. Hair wasn’t supposed to be that precise, so Kitty immediately disliked him.

  The second man was much older. He had soft white hair and a full beard, and he looked like he should be someone’s grandfather. Not exactly Father Christmas, but near enough. He sat in a far more relaxed manner than his companion, with his hands gently folded on top of a lacquered wooden cane. Both of the men wore very expensive suits, though their clothes were much more subdued than Mr. Pryce’s rather dramatic style. They were probably from the government.

  “Who’s that?” Kitty asked, completely forgetting herself in her curiosity.

  “Colleagues, Miss Granger,” Pryce said as he took the tray from her. “And since it seems no one told you already, this is a closed meeting and we are not to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kitty looked down and began fiddling with her fingertips. Had she done something wrong? She’d been asked to bring the tea, and she’d brought the tea. Mr. Pryce liked tea. Everyone liked tea. Why did it suddenly feel like she wasn’t supposed to have done this?

  Noticing her distress, Mr. Pryce gave a quick smile. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Granger. It’s appreciated.”

  Mr. Pryce backed away into the office and pushed the door shut. Kitty stared at it for a few moments, trying to process everything in her head. All of this really was starting to feel strange. Why had she been the one sent to bring the tea? Why had Pryce been surprised about it? Had he not asked for it?

  “Bollocks,” Kitty muttered under her breath. She’d been put up to something by the others and she didn’t know what. With her luck it would be a bloody prank and she’d be fired for it!

  Kitty ran back to the workshop and saw Faith, Liam, and Tommy sitting around a radio receiver. Tommy and Liam were sharing a set of headphones and listening to the transmission, while Faith was busy plugging a second set of headphones into the device.

  “A’right, what’s this all about?” Kitty demanded.

  Faith answered with another question: “Pryce took the tray?”

  Kitty sat in the empty seat next to Faith and gave her a severe look. “Yes ’e did. An’ I know you three are up to somethin’.”

  “Did ’e suspect anythin’?” Tommy asked.

  “Suspect?” Kitty exclaimed. “Suspect what? What did you just ’ave me do?”

  “We put a radio bug in the tea chest,” Faith answered.

  “You what?!”

  “Shhh! Not so loud!” Faith put a finger to her lips. “We’re technically breaking the law. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “Look,” Faith said, “this is a real hush-hush meeting. Pryce wasn’t even told about it until last night. That’s what Debby said, at least.”

  Kitty frowned. “Seems odd.”

  “Aye, real odd,” Tommy said. “Plus, even Mrs. Singh ain’t allowed to sit in on it. Usually she’s there for all the meetings with the Old Man. It’s suspicious is what it is.”

  “Honestly, Mrs. Singh’ll thank us once we tell her what they’re talking about,” Liam insisted.

  “Ehhh,” Faith said. “Let’s not rush to tell Mrs. Singh, all right? Not unless we know it’s something of real significance.”

  Someone in the doorway coughed. “Let’s not rush to tell Mrs. Singh what exactly?” Mrs. Singh asked.

  Kitty spun in her chair, and the others did the same. Mrs. Singh was leaning against the doorframe, watching them with a suspicious look in her eyes. She strode across the workshop toward them, her arms folded, like a teacher who had caught her students on the verge of releasing frogs into the classroom.

  “Mrs. Singh!” Faith exclaimed. “We . . . um . . .”

  “Didn’t see you there, ma’am,” Liam said, fumbling over his words.

  “I came looking for Kitty,” Mrs. Singh said. “I have an assignment for her. But this is much more interesting.”

  “It’s nothing—” Liam began.

  A glance at Mrs. Singh’s stance told Kitty she wasn’t having any of it. That was a trick Kitty had been forced to learn: often she couldn’t read emotions on someone’s face, but she could sometimes feel their mood by how they carried themselves and the tone of their voice. When Mrs. Singh was like this, excuses would just make her more curious and more annoyed with them.

  “I gave Mr. Pryce a tea chest with a radio bug inside it so we could listen to ’is conversation with the Old Man,” Kitty burst out.

  Everyone looked at her, and Faith covered her face with her hands. Kitty winced. She had just done something very foolish, hadn’t she? But Mrs. Singh wasn’t going to believe their excuses, so what else could they have done? She’d learn the truth eventually.

  “Pryce is meeting with the Old Man? You mean now?” Mrs. Singh asked. It seemed she’d had no idea it was happening. Then the other part of the statement caught up with her. “Wait a moment, you bugged his office?” she demanded. “Have you lost your minds?”

  Faith shot Kitty a glare before she made her case to Mrs. Singh. “Look, to be fair, I put the bug inside the chest and it was Liam’s idea.”

  “It was not!” Liam cried. “It was your bloody idea, Faith!”

  Kitty’s mind was turning in circles as she tried to think of a way out of this mess. The record was spinning so fast it felt like her brain was about to catch on fire, but everything started lining up correctly.

  Mrs. Singh should have been in the meeting.

  Mrs. Singh wasn’t in the meeting.

  Mrs. Singh didn’t even know about the meeting.

  Mrs. Singh was in the same boat as the rest of them.

  “So you didn’t know Mr. Pryce an’ the Old Man had this meetin’?” Kitty asked Mrs. Singh.

  Mrs. Singh hesitated. “I did not.”
/>   “But you’re supposed to be there for all the meetin’s?”

  “That’s the policy, yes,” Mrs. Singh replied. She narrowed her eyes at Kitty. “What are you getting at?”

  Kitty grabbed one of the pairs of headphones and held them out to Mrs. Singh. “Maybe you’d like to take a listen along with the rest of us, missis.”

  Mrs. Singh’s eyes narrowed even further, but a smile slowly spread across her lips. “You are full of surprises, Miss Granger,” she said, and she held one of the headphones up to her ear.

  Kitty didn’t answer. It had taken all her reserves of confidence to make the case so forcefully, and she suddenly found it preferable not to speak. Fortunately, everyone was too interested in the radio to pry. Faith plugged a third set into the receiver and shared it with Kitty. People were already speaking on the other end, but the conversation seemed to be the trailing end of pleasantries as the tea was being poured.

  “Splendid little place you have here, Pryce,” said one soft voice that probably belonged to the Old Man.

  “Thank you, sir,” Mr. Pryce replied. “We do our best to keep up appearances.” There was a pause and the sounds of spoons stirring in cups, followed by the almost inaudible slurp of three people sipping tea at once. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it?”

  A third voice chimed in, sounding gruff and irritable. “You can stop being all smiles and charm, Pryce,” he said. “You want to know why we’re here.”

  Mr. Pryce chuckled. “Indeed. More specifically, I want to know why you’re here, Gascoigne. Why can’t Mrs. Singh be part of this meeting, but you can?”

  There was venom in his tone. Even through the crackle of the radio, Kitty could tell he and Gascoigne didn’t like each other.

  “Who’s that Gascoigne bloke?” Kitty asked.