‘So you want me to forget what happened?’
‘Yes! Please.’
The Canadian captain looked at her, his eyes as cold as steel. ‘Okay,’ he said after several seconds. ‘But in future, if you want to protect your reputation, keep away from drunks.’
‘I will,’ Claire said, and the captain left. Fighting back the tears, Claire scanned the dance floor. Eddie was making her way through the crowd towards her.
‘What the hell’s going on? Oh my God, Claire, your nose is bleeding.’
‘That’s because I’ve just stopped a right hook.’ Claire took a handkerchief from her handbag and held it on her nose. ‘Bloody hurts,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
Claire was so excited about the interview with her superior, Flight Officer Manders, and the RAF officers from the Advance Strike Force that she had hardly slept. When she did finally drop off, it was into a fitful sleep where she tossed and turned, waking every twenty minutes or so to check the alarm clock in case it hadn’t gone off and she’d overslept.
The door to the FO’s office opened and her secretary came out. ‘Flight Officer Manders will see you now.’
Entering the office, Claire stood to attention and saluted her senior officer.
‘At ease, Aircraftwoman First Class,’ Flight Officer Manders said, reading Claire’s file. She lifted her head. ‘Congratulations on getting a distinction in French. It isn’t often that an officer of your age gets a hundred percent pass, let alone a distinction.’
Aware that the man in the room was watching her, Claire held her head high, kept her back straight. She stifled a yawn.
Flight Officer Manders looked up and smiled approvingly. ‘This is Colonel Smith,’ she said, motioning with her hand to the man on her left. Claire saluted.
‘I have some disappointing news for you, Aircraftwoman Dudley.’ Claire’s heart sank. She was sure she’d been called into the FO’s office for an interview with the RAF Advance Air Strike Force. Her mind went into overdrive. What had she done, or not done, that had put an end to her dream? She couldn’t think of anything. She had passed the French literacy, fluency and oral exams with top marks. She had even learned La Marseillaise, thinking it might come in handy when she was in France. And she had spent every minute of her spare time practising the German she knew and learning new words and phrases – including the difficult grammar. Damn! She stood firm, praying that the boiling frustration she felt didn’t show in her face, or the tension in her shoulders show in her stance. She mentally checked herself and relaxed a little. ‘The RAF Advance Air Strike Force, as we know it, is disbanding,’ FO Manders said. ‘Therefore it no longer requires British French speakers--’
The telephone on the FO’s desk burst into life with a shrill ring. Claire felt her nerve ends flinch. The FO glared at it, before lifting the receiver to her ear. ‘I said no calls!’ she barked into the mouthpiece. A second later she said, ‘That’s different. Send him in. Captain Mitchell,’ the FO said to the colonel. ‘We’ll proceed when he’s here.’ The colonel nodded.
There was a knock on the door. ‘Captain Mitchell,’ the FO’s secretary said. She stood back to let the new arrival enter, saluted and left.
The FO stood up to greet the captain, who was dressed in civvies. She shook his hand. ‘You know Colonel Smith?’ The colonel stood up and also shook the captain’s hand. ‘And this is Aircraftwoman First Class Dudley.’
Claire turned to the captain and her knees turned to jelly. ‘Sir!’ she said, saluting the bad-tempered Canadian who, only a few days ago, had told her if she knew what was good for her she would stay out of his way.
‘ACW First Class!’ he said, returning the salute before giving Claire a disapproving look and sitting down in a chair next to the FO.
Claire kept her eyes front. This was meant to be the best day of her career. It was rapidly turning into the worst day of her life.
‘Captain Mitchell is with the Royal Canadian Air Force,’ the FO informed Claire, as if Claire didn’t know. ‘Colonel Smith is from the Special Operations Executive, which is why I called you in. Colonel Smith, if you’d like to take it from here?’
‘Please sit, Miss Dudley,’ the Colonel said. Claire looked at the FO. She nodded.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Avoiding the Canadian captain’s gaze, she sat on the chair in front of the FO’s desk.
‘You have an exemplary record, Miss Dudley,’ the Colonel said. Claire heard the Canadian captain clear his throat. She stiffened slightly, but tried to ignore him and concentrate on what the colonel was saying. It wasn’t easy. ‘Fluent in French and proficient in German. And I see you have been trained in armed combat. Is that usual?’ he asked, directing the question to Claire’s senior officer.
‘No, Colonel, but when Aircraftwoman Dudley and another French-speaking WAAF expressed a wish to work with the RAF in France, they were sent for training.’
‘It’s all helpful. One never knows when armed combat will be necessary.’ Colonel Smith turned to Claire. ‘With your knowledge of the French culture and way of life, being fluent in the language, as well as speaking and understanding German, you would be an asset to the Special Operations Executive, Miss Dudley.’ Claire felt her pulse quicken. ‘I should like you to consider leaving the WAAF for a period of time to work with us.’ He leaned forward and picked up a folder. ‘I recruit operatives for the French Office. We will eventually be conducting espionage, sabotage and reconnaissance in occupied Europe, as well as assisting the local Resistance movements.’ Claire’s heart leapt with excitement. ‘What we need at this stage, however, are young women who are willing to go into the occupied zones and report back on German troop movements. It’s dangerous work. There is no guarantee you’ll return in one piece, if at all. I know that sounds harsh – and it is – but I want you to understand the risk you’ll be taking if you accept the post.’ The colonel paused, leaned forward and looked firmly into Claire’s eyes. He’s hoping to unnerve me, she thought, but that isn’t going to happen. She held her reserve, determined that she would not show the slightest sign of fear or doubt. ‘You must be absolutely certain that the kind of work we do at the SOE is for you.’
‘Sir!’ Claire gave a firm nod that she understood.
Colonel Smith’s face relaxed. ‘This is for your eyes only,’ he said, handing Claire a file. ‘Is that clear?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘The work we do is top secret. If you join the SOE you cannot tell anyone. If you are given an assignment you must not tell anyone what it is, or where you’re going to carry it out. As far as friends and family are concerned, you are here at Coltishall. Do you understand?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Everything you need to know about the SOE and the Secret Service Act is in there. Read it thoroughly and let Flight Officer Manders know your decision.’
‘Thank you, colonel,’ the FO said. ‘Do you have anything to add, Captain Mitchell? The Canadian shook his head. ‘Then that is all, ACW Dudley. Dismissed.’
Claire stood, saluted her superior officer, and turned towards the door. On her way out she glanced at the Canadian captain. He nodded. Relieved that he hadn’t taken the affray in the mess hall further, she left the room.
Clutching the buff folder, she marched along the corridor to the main exit. Once outside, she leant against the wall and inhaled until her lungs were full to capacity. Then, exhaling slowly, she walked across the square to her billet.
CHAPTER FOUR
Claire ran upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Eddie and slid the folder between the thin mattress and wooden base of her bed.
‘Still in one piece then?’ Eddie called from the bathroom. ‘Did the Canuck beefcake shop you?’
Claire crossed the room and stood in the doorway. ‘No, it was nothing to do with him,’ she said. So why was he there, she wondered? Thinking about it, neither the FO nor the colonel had said anything about his part in the SOE – if indeed he played a part at all. Strange
, that.
‘What did Minty Manders want then?’ Eddie asked, leaving the bathroom and walking past Claire, who was deep in thought. She followed Eddie into their bedroom. ‘Must have been bad, you’re frowning.’
‘I was just thinking.’ Claire needed to tell Eddie something; if she didn’t, her friend would keep asking. Besides, Eddie might well be considered for the same work. Then she had a flash of inspiration. Tell Eddie the truth, or at least part of it. ‘It wasn’t good news. The RAF’s Advance Air Strike Task Force is not recruiting French speakers anymore.’
‘Damn! No canoodling with suave Frenchmen then?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ Claire hated lying to Eddie. ‘Fancy going to the flicks?’ she asked, changing the subject. ‘We could see the new Clarke Gable picture.’
‘Sorry darling, I promised Larry I’d see it with him.’ Claire opened her mouth to ask who Larry was, but Eddie carried on. ‘Must dash, he’s picking me up in two minutes. We’ll see something next week,’ she shouted, running down the stairs.
‘Thank you Larry, whoever you are!’ Claire said aloud. ‘Now I don’t have to lie to my best friend, and I can read the information Colonel Smith gave me.’ She took the folder from beneath the mattress, kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed. Drawing her knees up, she leant back onto her pillow and opened the folder. She heard a couple of girls come upstairs and go to their rooms. Judging by their conversation they had just come off duty and were changing to go out for the evening. As they passed Claire’s door they waved, but didn’t speak. Her housemates were used to seeing her with her nose stuck in a folder or a book.
Claire read on, losing all track of time. After a couple of hours she rubbed her eyes and, reaching out, took the alarm clock from the cupboard at the side of her bed. She held it up and squinted. It was half past nine. No wonder she was having difficulty reading; it was almost dark. The girls she shared the house with would be back soon, so she read to the end of the paragraph, ripped a strip of paper out of her notebook, placed it in the folder and closed it. She had read enough for one day. Yawning, she put the folder back under the mattress and sat on the bed. She wanted desperately to tell Eddie that she had been asked to consider working overseas with the SOE, but she couldn’t. She closed her eyes to rest them and the next minute, or so it seemed, Eddie and a couple of WAAFs arrived, hushing and shushing each other. Giggling, Eddie ran to the bedroom window and closed the blackout curtains before putting on the light. The other girls shouted goodnight and stumbled into their bedroom, on the opposite side of the landing.
While Eddie talked animatedly about her date with Larry – how handsome he was, how tall and, my goodness what a good kisser – Claire took her wash bag and towel from the bedside cupboard and went to the bathroom. Eddie followed. Claire washed her face and brushed her teeth – and Eddie was still talking. Returning to the bedroom, Claire pulled back the bedclothes and climbed into bed.
‘I’ll tell you all about the film when I get back,’ Eddie said, grabbing her wash bag and toothbrush. ‘Shan’t be long.’ Claire was asleep in seconds.
‘Looking forward to training with the Canuck today?’ Eddie asked, as she and Claire took off their uniforms. Claire shrugged. ‘He’s quite yummy, if you like the beefcake type.’
‘Can’t say I’ve noticed,’ Claire said. ‘Rude yes, but yummy?’
‘Blackouts have to be the least flattering drawers in the world,’ Eddie said, looking down at her baggy knickers, which were almost down to her knees. ‘Passion killers, that’s what they are.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Claire said, rolling the legs of hers up to her thighs and high-kicking.
Eddie laughed and did the same. ‘Ouch! The bally elastic’s tight,’ she said, pushing the legs down again.
Claire looked from Eddie’s thick woollen knickers to her own, and pulled a face. ‘You’d think they’d give us shorts, as we’re being trained by a man. Why are we being trained by a man?’
‘We’re guinea pigs. One of the girls said the Canuck has been in intelligence, and is going to put us through endurance tests as well as physical training.’
‘It’ll be an endurance test having to look at his miserable face every day. Come on, knees up, Mountjoy!’ Claire shouted, running on the spot until Eddie joined her. Together they sprinted out of the house and across to the barrack square. Captain Mitchell stood with his hands on his hips while a dozen WAAFs milled around, chatting to each other.
‘Good of you to join us, Aircraftwomen Dudley and Mountjoy.’ The other women giggled. ‘Okay!’ he shouted. ‘Let’s warm up. Run on the spot, and at the sound of the whistle, six laps of the square. Let’s go!’
‘I like a masterful man,’ Eddie whispered, as they began the first lap.
‘Shush, Ed. If he catches you talking you’ll be for it.’
‘Would you like to share what it is that’s more interesting than your training, ACW Dudley?’
Claire spun round, eyes wide with surprise that he had singled her out. ‘No sir! Sorry sir!’ she said, glaring at Eddie. She felt the colour creeping up her neck to her cheeks. She didn’t like the Canadian captain. He was a bully.
‘What a misery he is,’ Eddie said, when they were in the showers. ‘I’m sorry he ticked you off. It should have been me. I can tell him if you like, explain you were only talking because you were telling me to be quiet.’
‘No! He’ll see it as an excuse and it’ll make things worse. Forget about it and let’s hope he does too.’
Later, when they were on their own, Claire told Eddie that she was being considered for a translating assignment. ‘Whether I get it or not depends on Miserable Mitchell. The thing is, Ed, he doesn’t like me. He probably doesn’t think I’m up to the job, so I’ve got to show him that I am. I really want this, Ed, so be a pal and don’t muck about when he’s around. I need to work so hard that he forgets the ticking off he’s already given me.’
‘I need to work hard too. I wasn’t going to tell you until I’d heard back from Minty Manders, but I’ve put in to take the French exam again.’ Claire’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘I shall take it seriously this time. I want to do more than drive the brass about. I want to make a difference. So thanks for reminding me,’ Eddie said. ‘Pals?’
‘Pals!’
‘You wanted to see me, Aircraftwoman Dudley?’
‘Yes, Flight.’
‘Well?’
‘Well--’ Claire wasn’t sure where to begin. She wasn’t a complainer. She prided herself on getting on with the job, however difficult.
Leaning her elbows on the desk, Flight Officer Manders put her hands together and made a steeple of her fingers. ‘I haven’t got all day, Dudley.’
Claire took a breath. ‘Captain Mitchell is unnecessarily hard on me, Flight. He works me longer and pushes me harder than he does any of the other women in my group. He has me jumping through hoops, literally. He barks orders at me, makes me the scapegoat when anything goes wrong, and keeps me behind when everyone else has been dismissed.’
‘Has he told you why he pushes you, or singles you out?’
‘He says my arms are weak. He keeps me behind to do exercises, which he says will make them stronger.’
‘And have they strengthened?’
‘Yes,’ Claire admitted, reluctantly, ‘but--’
‘Then my advice is keep doing what the captain tells you. He has your best interests at heart.’ Claire stared into the mid-distance. She didn’t think the Canadian captain had a heart. The FO picked up a file. ‘This is your report.’ Claire felt the nerves on the top of her stomach tighten. Expecting it to be full of critical and derogatory comments, she held her breath. ‘Captain Mitchell has passed you fit, and recommended you to the SOE. You have an interview in the New Year. The bully you talk of is so confident that the SOE will want you that he has enrolled you in a parachute training course at Ringway airport, near Manchester.’ Claire’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘I take it you do still want to work wi
th the SOE?’
‘Yes, Flight.’
‘Good. Then it was worth putting up with the captain’s bad temper?’
Claire couldn’t help but smile. ‘Yes, Flight.’
‘Then I suggest you start packing. Ringway are expecting you on Monday at 0:900 hours. You’ll be staying at Dunham House, in Cheshire – it’s all in here.’ She handed Claire the file.
‘Thank you, Flight.’
The FO chuckled. ‘Reserve your thanks until you’ve read this lot,’ she said, handing Claire two files that looked similar to the first. ‘From Colonel Smith. Needless to say, they are for your eyes only.’ Claire nodded. ‘And I think it best if we keep this conversation between ourselves. There are a lot of hoops to jump through before the SOE posting is definite!’
‘Understood!’
‘Dismissed, Aircraftwoman First Class – and well done.’
‘Thank you, Flight Officer Manders.’ Claire felt like jumping for joy. Instead she saluted, turned on the spot, and marched out of the FO’s office.
‘This is worse than being at school,’ Claire said. Rubbing her tired eyes, she closed the last of the folders that FO Manders had passed on to her from Colonel Smith.
‘What is?’ Eddie asked.
‘This lot.’ Claire put the folders face down on top of the cupboard. Eddie had been lying on her bed reading a magazine, but was now sitting up eagerly awaiting an explanation about Claire’s reading matter. Claire ached to share her good news with her best friend. She knew she couldn’t tell her everything, but since she was off on a parachute training course in a couple of days, she needed to tell her something. ‘Minty Manders has organised a couple of courses for me,’ she said. ‘And if I get through them, she says she’ll suggest me for a translating job.’
China Blue (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 3) Page 4
