30.
A RED ROSE
Victor and Shona Peters had travelled to Portsmouth to be at the inquest, and as the witnesses and public audience slowly moved from the room, Victor was pleased to have an opportunity to chat to Betty McGuire, their daughter’s best friend, whom he had met briefly on his previous trip to the city. She then introduced Marina’s parents to other friends and neighbours, and soon they were also chatting in the Guildhall lobby area to some of her former Royal Navy colleagues, including the senior staff who had come from the Navy HQ. As they were all meeting each other, Victor interrupted and said, “You know, we don’t know much about Marina’s life here in Portsmouth – do you all have time to come over the road to the hotel for a drink or a cup of tea?”
About a dozen of the group quickly filled the hotel lounge, and orders were taken by the barman as Marina’s three years in Portsmouth were relived for her parents. They were both proud and fascinated, and eventually, the subject came round to funeral arrangements. They warmed to a suggestion from Commander Gaffney that it should be a Naval occasion in Portsmouth – and Victor then explained to his rather doubtful wife: “All her friends are here, and then we can have a family memorial service in Putney later on as well.”
The Commander said that as a start, he would contact the Royal Navy’s senior chaplain in Portsmouth and also check the availability of the chapel in the Dockyard, St. Ann’s – the “spiritual home of the Royal Navy” – with its long history. This striking red brick church was built in 1704, then badly damaged by the bombing of the Dockyard in 1943 and eventually restored in 1956. The plaques on its walls are testament to the funerals of many famous admirals over the years and the Commander said he considered that the circumstances surrounding Marina’s tragic death, probably by the hands of a foreign power, fully justified this recognition.
And so the die was cast, and it was Betty and Marina’s former boss, Lieutenant Anne Gleeson, head of the communications section at the Dockyard HQ, who volunteered to follow up the suggestion in more detail and make the necessary arrangements. This, said Lieut. Gleeson, would include confirming a date convenient to everyone concerned and she promised to keep Mr. and Mrs. Peters involved at all stages.
First, the two planners went together to see a local funeral director who was experienced in handling such matters for the Navy and outlined their needs. And once the date was confirmed, they began to arrange a very naval occasion at St. Ann’s.
Two weeks later, the day of the funeral arrived. The solemn service was attended by more “senior brass” than they might have expected for the funeral of a relatively junior and civilian member of staff – but the story of Marina had touched many hearts.
Two young sailors in uniform acted as ushers and smartly escorted Mr. and Mrs. Peters to the front row, together with Andrew Peters and other family members who had travelled down from London for the day. They were very impressed when Commander Robert Gaffney, in full uniform, arrived in the church and strode to the front to introduce himself and to tell them that many others from the Navy headquarters team were also there to pay their respects to Marina, who had been “a wonderful colleague and a friend to them all”.
Tom Spencer, his deputy Tony and Patricia from MI5 came by car from London to attend the service. They also brought with them Charles Alexander, the freed Foreign Office diplomat, who was anxious to pay his respects to the woman whose connection with the Russian agent had led to his unexpected and sudden return home. The two local solicitors, David Barclay-Smith and Jeremy Scott, sat with Chief Constable Terence Hardy, Detective Superintendent Maggs and others from the local police station. Matthew Sampson, editor of the Weekly Herald, was at the back, together with his reporters, Gary Andrews and Charles Williams, plus Mike Morrissey the freelance. (Not surprisingly, all three were also interested in writing the next news story about Marina’s funeral and also the possible opportunity it provided to talk afterwards to some of those involved in the investigation!)
Betty arrived with Susie and her parents, Rear Admiral and Mrs. Mann. Also there were Mrs. Watkins, the helpful neighbour, who came with at least six more residents from the Southsea flats. There were many others among the mourners who felt they “knew” Marina from all the publicity in the press and on TV.
It was therefore a very mixed – and distinguished – group who filled the seats in the small church as the organist played music from “Portsmouth Point”, an overture written by the English composer William Walton and inspired by life at the seaport. Then the chaplain led a very naval service with appropriate hymns, including “For Those in Peril on the Sea”. In his address, he lamented Marina’s sad passing and talked about the important job she had been doing for the Navy and for her nation’s defence. He emphasized how much she was missed by everyone in the department where she worked – and how much they also missed her optimistic view of life, which had influenced them all. Marina’s uncle Andrew, in his clear though slightly accented English, gave the eulogy on behalf of the family, in which he told the story of her early life, her successes at school and university and her quiet ambition and determination to succeed in whatever she chose to do.
Noticeably, to some of those present, nowhere in the service was there any reference to Russia – neither the family’s ancestry nor Marina’s more recent involvement.
As the service ended, the congregation began to move out with the organist playing the rousing melody of “Hearts of Oak”, and there was an invitation on the Order of Service cards for everyone to gather again at 2 pm in Old Portsmouth and to join the family for refreshments – and more reminiscences – at the Sally Port Hotel.
Meanwhile, the coffin, borne by six uniformed sailors, was carried to the hearse at the door, followed by Marina’s parents and her uncle Andrew. Another vehicle was also there to take them, following the hearse, for a small, private farewell at the Portsmouth Crematorium. Afterwards, the family was driven back to Old Portsmouth and to the gathering of so many who had been involved in their daughter’s life in the Navy and her final tragic weeks. The conversations and refreshments were well under way when they arrived, and Victor sought out Commander Gaffney to thank him for the generosity of whoever had organised such a special occasion and offering to pay whatever it had cost. “We will always remember Marina and this day,” he said.
And the Commander replied, “It’s the Navy’s way of recognising the service of a shipmate who has been lost to us in such tragic circumstances. You all have our deepest condolences, and you can be sure that your daughter will be long remembered by us, too.”
A little later, the funeral director arrived carrying a discrete brass urn containing Marina’s ashes. The chaplain called for attention and invited everyone to follow him and the funeral director; a group of about 60 or 70 then walked the 400 yards to the sea wall by the old Semaphore Tower.
As they walked, Victor realised that he had not previously spotted the presence of his contact, “Jack”, from the Russian Embassy in London. He briefly slipped away from Shona’s side and moved to join the Russian to make a point of telling him firmly: “You are not welcome here, and I want nothing more to do with my daughter’s killers, ever.”
“Jack” then drifted to the back of the crowd … but still followed.
It was one of those cold but clear late November afternoons without a breath of wind, and as the large group crowded together on the sea wall, with the background of waves lapping gently against the stones, the chaplain moved to the front and began by recalling: “This is where the last, sad chapter in Marina’s life actually began, just 10 weeks ago. As she told her close friends, this is where she planned to stand to watch the arrival of the ship which she hoped would bring something new and important into her life. Yes, many of us think about new beginnings at some time, and this was what Marina was seeking. Instead, we now gather here to mourn her sudden departure to a rather different new beginning, in the care of our Lord. And now, in a traditional naval way, Victor and S
hona will scatter her ashes into the sea which had become the new focus in those last three years of her short life.”
Marina’s parents stepped forward to take the urn from the funeral director, and up above them on the Semaphore tower was a Royal Marine bugler who sounded the Last Post, its melancholic final notes echoing across the ancient stone walls. There were tears among many of those watching as the ashes fluttered down into the waters of Spithead.
And then, without a word, “Jack” suddenly stepped forward from the group and silently cast a single red rose into the water. He handed the chaplain a card to be read to the mourners:
“Farewell Marina. I am so sorry – it was not supposed to end like this. Rest in Peace – from your Russian Lieutenant.”
COPYRIGHT
Published by Clink Street Publishing 2020
Copyright © 2020
First edition.
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN:
978–1–913340–72–8 paperback
978–1–913340–73–5 ebook
The Russian Lieutenant Page 15
