Ambulance Girls

by Deborah Burrows

  She nodded sympathetically. ‘It’s been a rough few weeks for you.’

  How easily I had lied to her. What else could I do? I had signed the forms which compelled me to lie. Katherine had believed me because she assumed I would never lie to her. Jim had had no choice either, so why was I so upset about it?

  ‘You seem rather down in the dumps,’ she said. ‘Man trouble?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Well he’s a darling, and he’s crazy about you. Has something happened? Some old girlfriend crept out of the woodwork? Some reason why he can’t make an honest woman out of you?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Lily, what’s the matter? This is like pulling teeth. Tell me, truly, do you think he’s going to propose?’

  ‘That’s the problem, Katherine, I think that is exactly what he is going to do.’

  ‘Marry the man, Lily, and get on with your lives together. If you love him, take the leap.’

  ‘I do love him, but I can’t.’

  ‘Yes you can, silly. Marriage is the usual outcome. Why wouldn’t you?’

  ‘He’s too posh for me.’

  ‘What is his title?’ she asked. ‘You’ve never said.’

  ‘I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.’

  She threw me a considering look. ‘You’d be mad to let him go.’

  ‘But I want to go home to Australia after the war. I don’t want to live in England.’

  ‘He’s a barrister, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then he can do his barristering just as well in Australia, can’t he? He wasn’t born in this country. His mother lives in France, you said. It seems that his ties to Britain are slight. I suspect he’d be happy to leave if you don’t want to stay here.’

  ‘He said he would leave. Said he’d go to Australia.’

  ‘Then what’s stopping you?’

  I couldn’t tell her. I knew exactly what was stopping me. It was fear. Everybody insisted I was so brave, but I feared saying yes to a man who might despise my background, look down on my family when he met them. I feared discovering things about him I might not like. I feared tempting fate in wartime by committing myself to a future with Jim, and I feared ending up like Betty Wilkinson, who had married in the firm belief that a bright future lay ahead. Fate had struck her down. I was afraid of fate. My fears were childish and silly, I knew that, but they were also almost overwhelming. I couldn’t tell Katherine all this.

  ‘I’d rather keep things as they are,’ I said lamely. ‘Jim won’t push me, I’m sure he won’t.’

  At the ambulance station the following morning I felt an almost complete sense of disconnection from the people around me. Moray sent me out with Celia to ferry supplies between hospitals and transfer patients. It was mindless duty and I spent the time brooding on what I had learned of the world around me, of the British, even of Jim. Everything felt dirty, as if I had indeed been infected by the kind of defeatism Fripp peddled. What are we fighting for? I wondered. What did Levy die for?

  As we were returning to the station, Celia said, ‘If you’re staying in this evening, I’ll bring you that bottle of perfume.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, but really there’s no need.’

  ‘I’d like to. Say nine o’clock?’

  I shrugged.

  We entered the common room to the sound of Powell blathering on with her usual nonsense.

  ‘I swear it’s all absolutely true. It’s called the Eagle’s Nest because it’s on top of a mountain. It’s a glass-sided building and there’s nothing in it but a huge telescope. Hitler sits alone there and gazes out over the world and sky, plotting what he’s going to do.’

  Like Lucifer in ‘Paradise Lost’, I thought, as I sat down next to Armstrong. I murmured, ‘Here matter new to gaze the Devil met Undazzled; far and wide his eye commands.’

  Did Hitler watch Powell through his telescope, I wondered, spouting nonsense about him here in London?

  Armstrong gave me a suspicious look. I smiled at him and he looked away, blushing. The boy seemed harmless enough, but he had disliked Levy. Could he . . .

  As Powell continued speaking I had a sudden fearful thought. How did she know so much about Hitler? She might seem to be a fluffy-haired woman with little brain, but who knew what she got up to in her spare time. Was anything as it seemed? Was anyone?

  ‘And he has a special astrologer,’ she droned on, ‘who’s like a German Rasputin. He mixes a special red elixir of life and he drinks it every day, to keep young.’

  Who drinks the stuff, I wondered, Hitler or the German Rasputin? Powell really did need to take more trouble with her pronouns. I laughed to myself. Powell was no fifth columnist; I’d stake my life on it.

  Obviously pleased with the attention she was commanding, Powell continued her story. ‘They watch the stars together, and the astrologer plots out what Hitler should—’

  Celia’s clear voice cut through Powell’s chatter.

  ‘All of that tripe comes from a book called I was Hitler’s Maid. Complete rubbish. Honestly, Powell, you do say the silliest things. Hitler is no Satan, or mystic or fairy-tale monster. He’s a common megalomaniac whom the German people were stupid enough to put into a position of too much power.’

  Powell sniffed, but it shut her up. Fripp threw Celia a frown, but Celia soon stared her down.

  I looked at Fripp. Here was a woman who was quite ready to sell out her country, who had flirted with the man who ‘read the book in its original German’. I itched to slap her. My thoughts wandered into a reverie of Fripp being publicly humiliated for her traitorous intent, paraded through London on her way to incarceration in the Tower along with Celia’s wretched husband, as jeering Blitz victims pelted her with rotten fruit . . .

  ‘Brennan.’ Moray’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  He was leaning through the doorway to the office looking at me. ‘Brennan. In here now, please.’

  I walked into the office. He asked me to shut the door and sit down.

  ‘You can’t look at Fripp like that,’ he said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘As if you want to see her hung, drawn and quartered. People are noticing.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘And you were staring at the others in the common room as if they were all a bunch of potential fifth columnists.’

  I squirmed in my chair.

  ‘Brennan, your expressive face is part of your charm.’ He paused and started again. ‘That’s why I insisted that Vassilikov be under orders to reveal nothing to you about my mission.’

  I wanted to speak, but he went on, ‘I also suggested he try to dissuade you from further investigation.’ Moray gave a quick laugh. ‘Silly of me, in hindsight. I should have realised that nothing would stop you investigating Levy’s death, and it was fairly clear that you suspected me.’

  I didn’t say anything for a while, then, ‘I suppose I wanted it to be you, or Sadler, or anyone really. That would have meant that Levy’s death was more than one of countless utterly pointless Blitz deaths.’

  ‘You loved him very much.’

  I began to remonstrate as I always did, but stopped at the look in his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I loved him very much. But not in the way people think. David Levy was my dear friend and a wonderful man and he deserved better than a lonely death in a bombed building.’

  How odd it was to be sharing such confidences with Moray. He was silent for a beat or two, watching me. Then he looked down at his messy desk. ‘Lily, you won’t like this but I really think you need to be transferred to another station. Do you have any preference as to which?’

  ‘Please don’t do that.’

  He looked up. ‘The endeavour I’m engaged in is too important to take account of your feelings. I can’t risk you giving anything away. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Am
I really that transparent?’

  ‘I can’t take the risk. If Fripp leaves this station then you can return, but I can’t have you working with her.’

  ‘May I go to Berkeley Square, then? My friend Katherine is a deputy station officer there.’

  ‘Done,’ said Moray, and he smiled at me.

  I began to pick at my nails. They were filthy and the cuticles were cracked.

  ‘Ashwin says I have no future with Jim,’ I said, ‘because I can’t hide what I feel. Apparently those in her class are able to do that.’

  ‘The upper class in this country is trained into that from childhood. It allows them to forge and command empires, poor sods.’

  ‘It’s your class, too.’

  Moray shook his head. ‘I’m a grammar school boy; I didn’t attend a public school.’ I must have looked quizzical, because he added. ‘The fact that I went to a good grammar school may impress some people in this country, but it certainly does not impress those in Ashwin’s class.’

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean,’ I said slowly. ‘I went to a private school in Perth, which means I’m considered posh by a lot of people at home. But I was a boarder from the country and the daughter of a publican to boot. The girls from the old Perth families looked down on country boarders and especially looked down on me.’

  ‘And I thought there was no class system in Australia.’

  ‘It’s nothing like it is here.’

  ‘I have a feeling that things will change in this country once we’ve won the war. I think the old British class system is in for a battering.’

  ‘That’s what Jim thinks, but Ashwin says it’s still very rigid and I’ll never fit in.’

  ‘I’ll tell you straight that you’ll never fit in if you try to fit in. Just be yourself, Lily. The people who are worth knowing will respect you for it.’ He looked at me keenly. ‘Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are or where you come from. Then they really will despise you.’

  ‘I’m not! And I never will be. Besides, I don’t intend to remain in England once the war is over. Australia is my home.’ I stood to leave the office.

  ‘Just a minute, Lily.’

  I looked at him, but he seemed strangely reluctant to speak. He frowned at his desk and then looked up at me.

  ‘My skill, if you want to call it that, is to be able to pick the people who are willing to turn hate into action. I knew from the first time I met Fripp that her hatred of Jews ran so deep that she would take risks to help Germany win this war.’

  ‘What about Sadler?’

  He replied firmly, ‘Sadler is a petty criminal with an eye on the main chance, but he would never actively work against Britain. He thinks he has something over me, because he knows I’m often in Soho. His remarks to you about Soho on the night Levy was missing were a warning to me.’

  ‘A warning?’

  ‘He thinks I’m running a prostitution racket and he’s been attempting to blackmail me.’

  I could not help laughing. Moray did not laugh with me.

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘It won’t be long before Sadler finds himself conscripted into a job he really won’t enjoy.’ Moray looked hard at me. ‘If it helps, I can tell you that the only one from this station who is in my group is Fripp.’

  It did help to know that.

  ‘Stick with your pilot, Lily. He’s a good man. Ignore Ashwin.’

  ‘I’ll try. But she knows Jim’s world much better than I do.’

  ‘Ashwin only sees what she wants to.’

  ‘She’s frightfully brave, but she does take stupid risks.’

  Moray leaned forward across the desk to stare into my eyes. ‘It’s easy to get the wrong impression of people, and because of that, to misinterpret what they do and why they do it.’ He gave a quick laugh. ‘For a while I thought that Levy might be queer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He showed no interest in you or Maisie Halliday, except as friends, and you’re both very attractive women. He also ignored Ashwin completely whenever she was in the room. Never looked at her. Ashwin is gorgeous. Although Levy may have disliked her because she was married to that fascist, no man who was interested in women could ignore Ashwin so completely as he seemed to do.’

  ‘I really don’t think that Levy . . .’ And yet, it had always surprised me how uninterested Levy had seemed in me or Maisie or Ashwin or any woman really.

  Moray went on as if I’d not spoken. ‘Only, one evening I caught Levy watching Ashwin surreptitiously. And he was watching her in a way that made it clear he was not homosexual, if you get my meaning.’

  I stared at him, unsure what he was trying to tell me.

  ‘And Ashwin,’ he continued, ‘would never look at Levy. Now that might be because he was Jewish, but it’s telling that her risk-taking coincided with Levy’s disappearance. It began just after he went missing.’

  Now I was utterly confused. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I mean is, if you want to know what happened to Levy, perhaps you should talk to Ashwin.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘What do you think he meant?’ I asked, after I had settled Jim on to my couch with his brandy. He had come at my request and I had treated him to a mediocre dinner in the service restaurant. Now we were waiting for Celia to arrive with the perfume. I wanted him with me when I asked her about Levy. He had agreed to ask the questions if I felt it was too much for me.

  ‘He meant exactly what he said. Simply that you should talk to Celia.’

  ‘But do you know what he was getting at? Was he saying that Celia killed Levy?’

  ‘You know perfectly well he did not say that, Lily.’

  ‘Not in so many words, but he was awfully enigmatic. Jim, do you know something about this? About Levy’s death, I mean. Is there something you’re holding back?’

  He looked up, and held my gaze. ‘I swear I know nothing about David’s death. I did lie to you about Moray, but that was because I was ordered to do so. I hated lying to you, but there was nothing else I could do.’

  I opened my mouth to say – what? – but he stalled me, saying, ‘I hate lying, especially to you. But I can’t promise not to lie if it is crucial to my intelligence work.’

  I stared at him, wondering how to respond. How could I remain angry when we were at war and he was involved in secret and possibly dangerous work? Work that was often based on lies.

  ‘I can accept the need to keep your duties secret,’ I said eventually, ‘but no other lies.’

  He reached out for my hand and squeezed it. ‘No other lies. Ever. You have my word.’

  I nodded, accepting his promise.

  He released my hand and sat back in his chair. ‘For what it’s worth, and it’s only a guess, I’m fairly sure I know what Celia will say. I think what we have here is a tragedy, not a murder.’

  I jumped at the knock at the door and I went to open it. Celia was standing there, holding the bottle of perfume.

  ‘Please come in,’ I said. I meant a polite request, but it came out like an order. ‘If you don’t mind,’ I added limply. ‘Jim’s here. We – we’d like to talk to you.’

  The light faded from her eyes. She held out the small bottle. I took it from her and she entered without a word.

  ‘Would you like a glass of brandy?’ I asked.

  ‘Why not?’ she replied. She swallowed it in a single gulp, as if it were medicine, and it brought some colour into her white face. She held out the glass for a refill and I poured some more of Lady Anne’s brandy into it.

  ‘This is good stuff,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘Fire away. Isn’t that what they say in the American movies? As if one were facing a firing squad.’

  Jim seemed rather to admire her insouciance. He smiled a little, then sighed. ‘Celia, it’s clear that you’ve guessed what we want to know. Why don’t you tell us what happened that night?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘The night David died?’

  ‘Ye
s.’

  ‘Unburden myself? Admit my guilt?’

  ‘Is there any guilt?’ I said, startled.

  She took another sip of brandy and then looked up into my eyes.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘There’s guilt. It began with kindness. David Levy was kind to me. In the end it killed him.’

  I stared at her, my heart thumping.

  ‘Would you care to explain, Celia?’ Jim’s voice was soft, but somehow as probing as a lancet.

  She glanced at him and then looked at me.

  ‘How was he when he was with a patient?’ she asked me.

  ‘Very gentle,’ I replied. ‘Sweet.’

  She laughed, but there were tears in her eyes. ‘You saw the other side to the obnoxious man he could be in the station.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘He didn’t like many of you very much. So he didn’t show you what a funny, intelligent and caring man he really was.’

  She shook her head. When she spoke it was in a level, rather monotonous tone.

  ‘I came off my bike when I was cycling home one evening. The Warning had just sounded and I was going too fast. David saw it happen and came over to offer me help. I had sprained my ankle.’ She looked up at me. ‘Do you remember?’

  I nodded, and glanced at Jim. ‘She came to work on a crutch with the ankle bandaged. It was not long after the Blitz started in early September.’

  Celia put down the brandy and spoke again in that low, dreary voice. ‘He helped me over to the side of the road, dealt with my bike, and palpated my ankle to see what the trouble was. We had just agreed that the ankle was probably sprained when the guns started up and all at once the raiders were overhead.

  ‘The Blitz had only been going for a couple of days. We had seen what the bombs could do and we knew the danger of being caught in the open in a raid. I began to cry, which I never do. I can only suppose it was because my ankle was hurting like hell and I couldn’t get up and run away on it. And also because the planes were so loud and bombs were dropping close by. And he – and David had been so very kind, which I had not expected.’

  She was holding her hands in fists and her nails were digging into her palms. When she released them I saw spots of blood welling.