The Secret Life of Kitty Granger

by G. D. Falksen

  Verity put an arm around her. “You’re a bloody hero, Kitty Granger, and don’t you forget it.”

  “Thanks,” Kitty mumbled, uncomfortable at being complimented. “I s’pose I’d better go ’ome. I mean, Da don’t expect me back for a few days, but the sooner the better.”

  “That is probably best,” Verity agreed. “Here, let me have a look at you first.”

  She examined Kitty’s face and hands gently, but with intense scrutiny. It didn’t exactly make Kitty feel uncomfortable, since Verity felt less intrusive than most people, but all the same, Kitty shifted her feet nervously.

  “No bruises or marks on your face,” Verity said. “That’s good. Hands are a little scraped, but I don’t think your father will notice that.”

  “I doubt it,” Kitty agreed. “’E don’t notice much about me, ’cept when I’m bein’ trouble. I’ll just be on me best behavior for a few weeks, an’ ’e won’t think twice about it.”

  Verity nodded. “Yes, we can’t have your family being tipped off that you’re a dangerous spy getting into scrapes all the time. Then they’ll start to ask questions.”

  Kitty laughed at the joke. Laughing was nice. It helped relieve some of the tension.

  “You know, I was wondering, Kitty,” Verity said. She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. “Have you ever thought about moving out?”

  “What, leavin’ me da, you mean?”

  To be honest, Kitty had never considered it a possibility. She had always assumed she would have to live at home until her father died, and after that . . . she had no idea.

  “You don’t have to decide now,” Verity told her, “but I have a flat in downtown London. There’s plenty of room for two, and it’s much more convenient for both the magazine and the Orchestra. Plus, it means you wouldn’t have to worry about your father asking why you keep odd hours. This won’t be the only mission that takes you out of town for a while.”

  Kitty stared off in silence, pondering the offer. It represented an independence she had never really thought possible for herself. And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to take that plunge just yet. Leaving home was a huge step. But thanks to the new hires, her father didn’t need her to help in the shop anymore, and it might be nice not having to worry about him being overbearing at the worst possible moments.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Is that a’right?”

  “Whenever you decide, just let me know,” Verity said, smiling. “Now then, let’s get you back home. You deserve a rest.”

  Kitty followed Verity into the hallway, where she saw Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Singh, and Gascoigne standing outside of Mr. Pryce’s office. It looked like they had just finished a meeting and Gascoigne was getting ready to leave. Verity put out a hand to stop Kitty, and the two of them hung back to avoid interrupting the conversation.

  “I don’t believe the Prime Minister is going to make an impassioned speech about one of the lords plotting to blow up Parliament, if that’s what you mean,” Gascoigne said to Mr. Pryce, as he put on his hat. “But there is ample evidence of conspiracy and treason, so the courts will deal with them accordingly. We’ll simply keep the full extent of what almost happened out of the public eye.”

  “Sensible,” Mr. Pryce said.

  “Don’t want to spark a general panic,” Mrs. Singh agreed.

  Gascoigne nodded. “Or undermine confidence in the Conservatives. We cannot allow this to hurt the party in the next election, Pryce.”

  Mr. Pryce frowned. Kitty guessed he was offended at the notion of concealing information from the public for political reasons. Mrs. Singh’s reaction was far more dramatic.

  “Bloody hell, Gascoigne,” she exclaimed. “Is that all you can think about?”

  Gascoigne didn’t answer her. “In the meantime, Pryce, I’ve spoken to the Minister about your new assignments. As we discussed, you will be taking orders from me now. You will find that I run a tighter ship than the Old Man did.”

  Mrs. Singh looked angry at this news, but Mr. Pryce gave Gascoigne a cheery smile. “Need I remind you about our agreement? You give the Orchestra full autonomy, and I’ll back you up when people start asking questions about why you were so eager to follow the Old Man’s orders on the day of the attack. A mutually beneficial arrangement, I’m certain you will agree.”

  Gascoigne coughed uncomfortably. “Yes, well . . .” he stammered. “You and I will discuss this later. Good day.”

  Once Gascoigne had left, Mrs. Singh folded her arms and said, “That man is going to be trouble. You know that.”

  “I predict we have a year or so before Gascoigne becomes too much of a problem,” Mr. Pryce replied. “I’ll work on the Minister to get us made a separate agency now that the Old Man is behind bars.”

  “Honestly, Pryce, you’re always so bloody cheerful,” Mrs. Singh said. “Doesn’t it bother you that we saved the country, but Gascoigne gets the promotion?”

  For a moment, Mr. Pryce’s countenance fell. “It does bother me, my dear, but that’s inter-service politics for you. If I’m going to do my job, I have to put up with this sort of nonsense some of the time. Well, most of the time.”

  “Ever think about taking me up on my offer?” Mrs. Singh asked.

  Mr. Pryce laughed. “You mean going into private enterprise? Spying on the rich and powerful, and blackmailing them into doing some good in the world?”

  “That’s the one. Could be rather fun if you ask me.”

  “Not my style,” Mr. Pryce said. “I believe Britain can be a force for good, and far more effectively than some blackmailed millionaire. I just need to protect the country from men like Smythe, who would rather use our resources to hurt people than to help them.”

  “I respect that,” Mrs. Singh told him, “but you don’t set policy. What happens if a government’s elected that wants what Smythe wanted? A new British Empire. England for the English. Will you just stand at your post and hope for the best?”

  Mr. Pryce looked troubled by the question. “God willing, we will never come to that bridge, but if we do, we’ll cross it then.”

  Mr. Pryce went into his office and closed the door. Verity nodded to Kitty, and they turned the corner into the hallway like they had only just arrived.

  Mrs. Singh smiled at them as they approached. “Back on your feet, I see,” she said to Kitty.

  “Yes, missis. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

  “You had a very long day yesterday. It’s understandable. Come on, I’ll drive you home. No reason for you to take the bus after what you’ve been through.”

  “Thank you, missis,” Kitty said. Truly, she hadn’t been looking forward to taking public transportation all the way to the East End.

  “Be seeing you,” Verity told her with a parting wave.

  Kitty smiled. “An’ you.”

  She followed Mrs. Singh out to the parking lot and into one of the cars. They drove for the first few minutes in silence, but after a bit, Mrs. Singh spoke.

  “I’m very proud of you, Kitty,” she said. “I hope you know that. Pryce is too. We all are.”

  As always, Kitty felt embarrassed at being complimented. “Oh, I dunno ’bout that,” she mumbled. “Just doin’ me job.”

  “You were given a first assignment that was supposed to be safe and easy,” Mrs. Singh replied. “It turned out to be dangerous and difficult, and despite that you pulled it off and saved hundreds of lives. You should be proud too.”

  Kitty bobbed her head but didn’t say anything.

  Mrs. Singh continued, “I spoke to Pryce, and he’s going to give you a few days off to recuperate. But I thought perhaps you might like to come to the magazine tomorrow anyway.”

  “I’d like that, missis,” Kitty said. “I like to work.” Perhaps she’d have some time to stop by the garage and see if Tommy needed any help with car repairs. That would be calming.

  “You and I can sit down and discuss what you’ve been through,” Mrs. Singh added.


  “No need, missis,” Kitty insisted. “I’m fine, honest.”

  Mrs. Singh gave her a long look. “Kitty, you shot a man and you were nearly killed. Now that’s not unusual in this line of work, but it’s a lot for a young person like you to process. I know from experience. We are spies, not machines. We think and we feel, and we are affected by things. You can’t simply shrug off what happened to you. You need to talk about it and work through it. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help you with that.”

  Kitty nodded slowly. She understood. The idea of confronting what had happened made her hands twitch, but she couldn’t just leave it unaddressed, festering in the back of her head as she tried not to think about it.

  “I think I’d like that, actually,” she admitted.

  Mrs. Singh smiled. “Good. We can’t have our most promising new recruit succumbing to fatigue, can we?”

  “No, missis,” Kitty agreed.

  The drive was nice and quiet, and Kitty was already feeling a little better by the time they reached home. Mrs. Singh accompanied her into the shop, and Kitty saw her father behind the counter, talking to one of his new employees. Another local lad was sweeping the floor across the room. Everything looked better than Kitty remembered. The money coming in had paid for new stock, fresh paint, and a host of other little improvements. She had no idea whether sales were any better than before, but the place certainly looked more successful. And her father seemed happier than Kitty had seen him in a long time.

  “ ’Ello, Da!” she called from the doorway.

  Her father looked up from his newspaper and smiled at her. “Kitty! Back a’ready? Oh, an’ ’ello, Mrs. Singh. Good to see ya ’gain.”

  Mrs. Singh gave him one of her most charming smiles and offered him her hand. “Hello, Mr. Granger. A pleasure as always. My goodness, but doesn’t the shop just look wonderful!”

  “I ’ope Kitty weren’t no trouble on your business trip,” her father said, even as he hugged Kitty. The irony of the juxtaposition was lost on him. Kitty sighed in resignation. How quickly he jumped from being happy to see her to reminding people that she was a burden.

  Mrs. Singh laughed. “Nonsense, Mr. Granger. Kitty is the best secretary I’ve employed in years. I have no idea how she keeps track of everything so well, but thanks to her the trip was a complete success. You should be very proud.”

  “Oh, I am, I am,” he insisted.

  “In fact,” Mrs. Singh continued, “it was such a success, I intend to celebrate with some friends of mine. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for some groceries while I’m here? You have such a good selection.”

  “Certainly, missis,” Kitty’s father said. He snapped his fingers at one of the new clerks. As the young man took Mrs. Singh’s grocery list, Mr. Granger leaned over the counter and said to Mrs. Singh, “You read the paper this morning, missis?”

  “I have not, in fact,” Mrs. Singh replied. “Anything of note?”

  “Well, says ’ere they’ve arrested a Member of Parliament.”

  “My word!” Mrs. Singh gasped. “Mr. Granger, whatever for?”

  He gave Mrs. Singh a sage look, preparing to educate her. “Well, missis, seems there were a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister.”

  Mrs. Singh put a hand to her heart and looked like she might faint from the shock. “No!”

  “’Tis true. An’ there’s trouble brewin’ in Northern Ireland. I tell ya, Mrs. Singh, I dunno what’s become of this country these days, I really don’t.”

  While the two of them kept chatting, Kitty slipped away from the conversation and went upstairs to her room.

  She dropped her suitcase by the bed and hung up her coat. She rummaged through her desk drawer for a pencil and an old crossword she had left unfinished ages ago. Sitting on her bed, Kitty settled back against her pillow and took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves. Her eyes focused on the puzzle in front of her, and gradually the rest of the world started to slip away. The tension in her head eased, and Kitty was finally at peace again.

  Author’s Note

  A note about our hero:

  Kitty Granger is autistic. It is a fundamental part of who she is, inseparable from her as a person. Nevertheless, the word “autism” never appears in the text of this story, because autism was not well understood in the 1960s. The criteria for diagnosis was extremely narrow and focused on children with severe developmental delays, which meant that the majority of autistic people went undiagnosed at the time.

  In addition, diagnosis was heavily skewed toward recognizing signs of autism in boys rather than girls, a problem that persists today. It is extremely unlikely that Kitty and her family would even have heard of autism, and virtually inconceivable that her autism would have been recognized as such during her childhood.

  The ways that Kitty’s autism manifests and affects her experiences have been based on modern information and perspectives, in an effort to make her portrayal as realistic and as respectful as possible.

  A note about the villains:

  Smythe and Lowell are old-school British fascists from the 1930s, who successfully distanced themselves from mainline fascism during World War II and cloaked their political leanings behind the cover of conventional right-wing politics. They are completely fictional, but their ideology is based on real examples from British history.

  Their associate Oswald Mosley was real, and his British Union of Fascists existed from 1932 to 1940, when it was banned during World War II. After the war, Mosley attempted to reenter politics with a new party, the Union Movement. In 1959 he ran for Parliament on an anti-immigration platform, calling for the deportation of Caribbean immigrants. He lost with less than ten percent of the vote, lost again in 1966, and finally retired.

  In addition to Mosley, there were many other fascists or fascist sympathizers in Britain before, during, and even after the war. They included the likes of Archibald Henry Maule Ramsay, a virulently anti-Semitic Member of Parliament who organized a group called the Right Club aimed at unifying Britain’s far-right; Hugh Grosvenor, 2nd Duke of Westminster, who was reportedly obsessed with anti-Semitic conspiracy theories; Admiral Sir Barry Domvile, who was invited to attend the Nazi Party’s Nuremberg Rally in Germany in 1936; and Ronald Nall-Cain, 2nd Baron Brocket, a Nazi sympathizer who attended Adolf Hitler’s 50th birthday celebrations in 1939. Evidence suggests that none other than Edward VIII, who reigned as king for most of 1936, was a fascist sympathizer.

  Britain’s fascists came from all walks of life, from the working class all the way up to the nobility. Many were imprisoned as a security risk during World War II, but some were not. Smythe and Lowell are, clearly, among the latter group, whose beliefs persisted well beyond the end of the war.

  Topics for Discussion

  Kitty is autistic. Her brain works in a particular way, which she knows that some people consider “peculiar.” What are some ways that she uses this to her advantage?

  What coping mechanisms does Kitty use when she experiences sensory overload or feels otherwise overwhelmed? How do these coping strategies help her manage difficult situations?

  Why does Kitty want to work for Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh instead of continuing to work in her father’s shop?

  What is Kitty’s relationship like with her father? How do her colleagues at the Orchestra treat her differently than her father does?

  Why do the Young Bloods at the Orchestra stick together, according to Verity? What do they accomplish that the more senior agents don’t?

  How does Saul advise Kitty to deal with bullies? How could his advice apply to day-to-day situations at school or in your neighborhood? How do you think it could apply to a political situation?

  Tommy assumes that most girls aren’t interested in cars. Kitty tells him, “Girls can be interested in all sorts of things, only we don’t talk about ’em ’cause people keep tellin’ us we’re not s’posed to like ’em.” Think of an instance in your life when someone (perhaps you) made an assumption similar to T
ommy’s. What do you think Kitty would have said about this?

  Mr. Pryce believes that the secret fascists within Britain’s Conservative Party could never take over the government by nonviolent means. Do you agree with his assessment? Why or why not?

  Kitty speaks in an East End accent, but she switches to a posh Canadian accent for her cover. Why do you think she prefers her natural way of speaking, even though she knows how to speak in other ways?

  What does Kitty come to understand about Diana and the way she treats people? How is Diana’s behavior connected to her father’s social position and worldview?

  How does killing a man—and seeing several others killed—affect Kitty? What does Verity tell her about this? What is Mrs. Singh’s perspective?

  How do the Old Man and his fascist accomplices try to undermine the Orchestra? How might a group like theirs do something similar in the present day?

  What role do racism and xenophobia play in Sir Richard Smythe’s plans for “the purification of Britain”? How do the members of the Orchestra refute his ideas of what “true Englishmen” are?

  Mrs. Singh asks Mr. Pryce, “What happens if a government’s elected that wants what Smythe wanted?. . . . Will you just stand at your post and hope for the best?” Mr. Pryce dodges the question. What do you think his answer should have been?

  How does the possibility of moving out of her father’s home and becoming Verity’s roommate change Kitty’s ideas about what her future might hold? What do you think the next few years of her life will be like?

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I am extremely grateful to those members of the autistic community who have written or spoken publicly about their experiences with autism. Thanks to their efforts, there is a wealth of firsthand information about life on the autism spectrum readily available, if one simply takes the time to look. Many such resources have proven invaluable to the writing of this book, both in informing Kitty’s portrayal and in giving much-needed context to the rest of my research.