The Secret Letter

by Debbie Rix

  Marjorie told me yesterday that Freddie is doing well, but she’s very worried about him. He’s flying operations over Germany. Something quite secret I gather. The planes are called ‘Flying Fortresses’. They sound rather romantic don’t they? I was surprised there was no message for you, but I suspect he has a lot on his mind.

  I hope work is going well – do take care of yourself darling, and please write soon?

  Much love,

  Ma

  Imogen leant against the door of her room, musing on this latest piece of information. Freddie hadn’t even asked after her. It seemed he had finally forgotten all about her. Well, she thought, slipping the letter into her gas mask box, that was fine, she had a boyfriend now – a charming American who adored her, who couldn’t do enough for her. And sometimes in life you just had to accept that what you had once hoped for, was not to be. What did her mother always say? When one door closes, another door opens. Perhaps Ben was that door.

  She found Joy surrounded by a sea of clutter.

  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ said Joy. ‘I can’t believe we’ve acquired so much stuff.’

  ‘I know,’ said Imogen. ‘We just have to be organised. I’ll clear the dressing table and you start folding all the clothes. We’ll get it done.’

  ‘I don’t know why it all has to be done in such a rush. Another day wouldn’t hurt, surely?’ said Joy. ‘Although I’ll be glad to get out of this place. It’s just rather bad timing – I had a date tonight.’

  ‘Who with?’ asked Imogen, as she put her toiletries into a washbag.

  ‘Werner.’

  ‘Werner?’ said Imogen. ‘That German man we met in the pub? I thought it was Karl you had your sights set on.’

  ‘I did, originally,’ said Joy. ‘But Karl’s so serious – charming and clever, certainly, but with very little sense of humour. But there’s something about Werner. He’s very funny, and quite brilliant. I think he’ll make a marvellous husband.’

  ‘But Joy – have you actually been out with him?’

  ‘Yes. Several times.’

  ‘You’ve kept that quiet,’ said Imogen.

  ‘You’re not the only one with a boyfriend, you know. Besides, you’ve been rather preoccupied lately.’

  ‘Oh Joy,’ said Imogen, sitting down on the bed amongst the muddle of clothes. ‘I’m sorry. I have been preoccupied – you’re right. But seriously Joy, are you sure about this. Isn’t Werner a communist?’

  ‘Yes, sort of. He certainly has very firm views about trade unions for example. But I think he’s right. Workers ought to be protected.’

  ‘But marrying him? I mean isn’t it all rather sudden?’

  ‘War has a funny effect on people,’ said Joy, defensively. ‘But I have a good feeling about him. He’s the marrying kind.’

  ‘And does he feel the same way?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Joy, grinning. ‘I think I ought to ask him, don’t you?’

  ‘Well I admire your pluck.’

  ‘And what about you?’ asked Joy, folding her nightclothes into her suitcase. ‘How’s your American?’

  ‘He’s well. At least I think so. We’ve not managed to see each other that much recently. He had to go away for while – he’s got something big going on.’

  ‘Well you must try to see him tonight,’ protested Joy. ‘You don’t know when you’ll be back in London.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Imogen. ‘I don’t even know if he’s back, but I’ll give him a call as soon as I’ve finished packing.’

  There was a queue for the public phone in the hall of the lodging house, but Imogen eventually got through to Brown’s Hotel.

  ‘Could I speak to Lieutenant Anderson, please?’

  There was a pause before his voice came on the line.

  ‘Ginny? How lovely to hear from you. I only just got back today. Is everything all right, darling – where are you?’

  ‘I’m at my lodgings… but I wanted to tell you something; we’re shipping out tomorrow.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all been a bit of a rush. We were only told this morning.’

  ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘Well I suppose you’ll all find out soon enough.’ She checked none of the other lodgers were listening. ‘Portsmouth,’ she whispered.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the big push.’

  ‘Exactly. I’ve just packed up the office and all my things here and we’re meeting at seven tomorrow morning. I’m so sorry, Ben. I don’t know when we’ll be back.’

  ‘Can I see you before you go?’

  ‘I don’t have much time.’

  ‘Could you come here? I have a late meeting in my office in Mayfair that I can’t get out of, but I could meet you back at the hotel in an hour or so.’

  ‘Or you could come here?’

  ‘It would be better here,’ he said gently. ‘It’s quiet – we could be alone.’

  Like many girls of her age and class, Imogen was still a virgin. This was not an especially moral decision, in spite of the fact that her mother had impressed upon her that she should ‘save herself’ for her future husband. Rather, it was a practical problem – it was the fear of getting pregnant that had always held her back from making any kind of physical commitment to a boyfriend. She felt anxious as she entered the swing doors of Brown’s Hotel – fearing the night manager might assume she was a ‘lady of the night’ by simply asking for Lieutenant Anderson at the reception desk.

  ‘I’ll just ring up now, Madam,’ the manager said, looking at her askance.

  She needn’t have worried. Instead of inviting her to his room, Ben met her in the lobby and insisted they went to the bar. She felt so relieved that she wanted to kiss him on the spot.

  In spite of the late spring weather, a coal fire had been lit in the bar. They sat on either side, nursing their drinks.

  ‘Are you looking forward to going?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been to Portsmouth. Heaven knows what I’ll be doing. But I suppose it will be exciting.’

  ‘They haven’t told you what your duties will be?’

  ‘No… nothing. I’m utterly in the dark.’

  ‘I’m heading off too.’

  ‘Back to America?’

  ‘No, no… to Europe.’

  ‘To France?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybe… all over, really.’

  ‘We might never see each other again,’ she said, reaching over and taking his hand. She had a momentary frisson of anxiety at the thought that this relationship could be plucked away from her – just as she had come to terms with it.

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he laughed. ‘Of course we’ll see each other again. I know where you’ll be, remember? With General Eisenhower; you shouldn’t be hard to find.’ He picked up her hand and kissed it.

  ‘You do say the most romantic things,’ she said.

  ‘Not to everyone – just to you.’

  ‘Ben,’ she began. ‘I really do have to go soon. I’m so sorry…’

  ‘I know sweetheart,’ he spoke softly, linking her hand with his, their fingers intertwined. ‘Before you do, I want to say something.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before. I didn’t know girls like you existed.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she blushed.

  ‘No, I don’t think you understand how special you are. You’re beautiful – that’s clear for anyone to see. But you’re also smart, funny, brave… you’re everything a man could want.’

  Freddie slipped uninvited into her thoughts, but she pushed him away just as Ben reached over and kissed her cheek.

  ‘You must know that the one thing I’m burning to do right now is make love to you, don’t you?’ he whispered.

  She blushed, partly with embarrassment, but she was also aware of another sensation – her body aching with desire for him.

  ‘But we’re both going away tomorrow,’ he said, l
eaning back in his chair, ‘and I want to do what’s right – for both of us. Most importantly, I don’t want to break your heart.’

  ‘That seems to be the story of my life,’ Imogen said. ‘Men leaving me, in order to protect me.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you. You’re leaving me!’

  She laughed.

  ‘No, what I’m saying is this,’ he continued. ‘Maybe we should get through the next few months. And when we meet again, hopefully it’ll all be over, and then we can be together properly – forever.’

  ‘What are you trying to say, exactly?’ she asked.

  ‘Well… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You know I told you my dad was in the diplomatic service?’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ said Imogen.

  ‘Well I asked him to send something over to me… in the diplomatic bag.’

  ‘How thrilling.’

  ‘I have it here in my pocket. I’d like to give it to you tonight.’

  He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and brought out a small jewellery box.

  ‘Ginny, darling – if we both make it, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with for the rest of my life than you.’ He opened the box. Nestling against a purple velvet cushion was a diamond ring set with dark blue enamel.

  ‘It was my grandmother’s,’ he explained. ‘It’s Napoleonic, I think. Does it fit?’

  She looked up at him, bemused.

  ‘You’re asking me to marry you?’

  ‘I am… will you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Imogen, slightly flustered. ‘It seems so sudden – I don’t really know what to say…’

  He slipped the ring onto her finger. ‘Say yes, darling.’ He adjusted the ring, which was clearly too large for her.

  ‘We can get it made smaller,’ he said hurriedly.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, staring at the ring. ‘Ben, are you sure about this?’

  ‘Never surer of anything in my life.’

  ‘But I’m leaving London in eight hours’ time,’ she said, checking her watch. ‘The tubes will stop soon, and I still have to finish my packing, and get to the office by seven.’

  ‘So go,’ he said. ‘But first… tell me you’ll marry me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, uncertainly. ‘I suppose so… yes, of course. I’d love to marry you.’

  ‘We’ll have a wonderful life together – I promise. We can live anywhere you want.’

  ‘Can we?’ she said, already standing up, picking up her gas mask. He put his arms around her.

  ‘I wish you didn’t have to go.’

  ‘I know. I feel the same. It seems all wrong – to be leaving now.’

  He kissed her.

  ‘I suppose… I could come upstairs – if you want?’ Her heart was racing, she felt anxious, but brave at the same time.

  ‘Do you want to?’ he said.

  ‘Very much.’

  The next morning when she woke it was still dark. She peered anxiously at her watch on the bedside table. It was ten to five. She sank back onto the pillows and gazed at Ben lying so peacefully, sleeping beside her… studying the way his chest rose and fell with his breath, the way his dark hair fell over his eyes. He lay with his hand thrown out across the bed, looking so relaxed and beautiful. She went into the bathroom, taking her clothes with her. She washed cursorily, swilling her mouth with water and dressed hurriedly in the half-light, worried that she was going to be late. She found a writing pad on the desk and scribbled a note to him.

  Sorry I had to leave. Didn’t like to wake you. I love you… Ginny XXX

  She stood, briefly, in the doorway and looked back at him, before shutting the door, and walking briskly down the corridor. She was relieved to find the reception desk deserted and pushed out through the revolving doors onto Albemarle Street, shielding her eyes against the sharp early morning light. She ran to the tube station, praying there would be no delays to the trains. The platform was deserted and she was grateful for that; she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She felt a tinge of guilt about spending the night with Ben. But she pushed it aside. This was wartime, after all, and they were engaged. There was nothing wrong, surely, with showing the man you loved how you felt?

  Her train came in and she sat down, choosing a corner seat, hugging herself, blushing slightly at the memory of their lovemaking. It had been tender and affectionate, but both of them had been tired, and a little nervous. She was embarrassed at her ignorance. He had found it touching – to be the ‘first’. He had covered her face in kisses and she had truly felt, in that moment, that he was the most wonderful man in the world. But their happiness at finally being together, was inevitably tinged with sadness. He had gazed into her eyes long after they had finished making love, ‘drinking her in’, he’d said.

  ‘I’m going to imprint every part of your face and body onto my mind to feed on while we’re apart.’

  It had been such a romantic thing to say, she had been swept away by the emotion of it all. But now sitting on the tube heading for Belsize Park, she looked down at the ring he had given her, and wondered what she was doing. The ring was beautiful certainly, but they hardly knew one another. He was exciting, glamorous, handsome and fun to be with. But he was also secretive and mysterious. She hardly knew him.

  She was jolted out of her thoughts by the guard announcing her station.

  ‘Chalk Farm… Chalk Farm.’

  She leapt off the tube and ran back to the house in Belsize Park, arriving breathless at her bedroom door. Joy was sitting at the dressing table, brushing her hair.

  ‘Good morning to you too, stranger,’ she said, turning around. ‘Imogen Mitchell… You naughty, naughty girl…’

  ‘Oh shut up, Joy. Spare me the lectures, please. Just let me pack…’

  Sitting with all the other Wrens in the back of lorry heading for Portsmouth later that morning, Joy whispered to her friend.

  ‘Tell me all about it then. Was it marvellous?’

  Imogen showed her the ring.

  ‘My God… engaged! Oh Ginny, how exciting!’

  ‘I know,’ whispered Imogen. ‘It seems mad, really. I hardly know him.’

  ‘Well, after last night, I imagine you know him pretty well.’ Joy giggled.

  ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘I do,’ said Joy. ‘He asked you to marry him, he gave you a gorgeous ring, you might not see him for months, so you did what any one of us would do.’

  ‘So you’re not too shocked.’

  ‘Darling, of course I’m not. But I’m a bit worried – you don’t seem very happy.’

  ‘Oh I am,’ said Imogen. ‘It’s just… it’s been a bit quick, you know? How was your evening, anyway? Is Werner the man for you?’

  ‘Oh yes I’m sure he is. Werner is divine. But he’s off to Europe too, any minute now. Some secret op.’

  ‘And will you see him again?’ asked Imogen.

  ‘I fully intend to,’ said Joy.

  ‘Well I hope you do,’ said Imogen. ‘It seems we’re all heading somewhere, and who knows where we’ll all end up?’

  ‘I know,’ said Joy. ‘Isn’t it exciting!’

  As the naval transport meandered its way up the long drive to Southwick House, the Wrens peered out of the bus’s windows, craning their necks to get a better view of their final destination.

  ‘Gosh,’ said Joy. ‘It’s pretty glamorous.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ said Imogen, admiring the extensive grounds as they swept up the drive. Well-stocked flower beds edged the well-trimmed lawns. On the perimeter towering rhododendrons jostled for space next to a pair of arching copper beeches.

  ‘Goodness,’ said Joy, as the bus pulled up in front of the elegant white Georgian house. ‘I think we’ve rather landed on our feet here.’

  Filing out of the bus onto the gravel drive, they were met by a senior Wren.

  ‘Right… follow me,’ she said, leading them away from the elegant house and gardens towards a row of woode
n Nissen huts in the grounds. She reeled off the names of the first hut’s inhabitants.

  ‘Andrews, Aspel, Carr, Davies, Edwards, Hutchinson, McIntyre, Mitchell, Peabody, Proctor…’

  The girls stepped forward as their names were called, Joy and Imogen amongst them.

  ‘Dump your bags,’ the officer told them, ‘and then meet me in front of the house. You’ve got ten minutes!’

  Imogen and Joy, relieved to be billeted in the same hut, grabbed two bunks next to each other.

  ‘The beds aren’t too bad,’ said Joy, bouncing on hers.

  ‘And at least it’s not too cold,’ said Imogen. ‘But there is a rather a strong smell of newly sawn wood.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joy, giggling. ‘It smells like the inside of my dad’s shed.’

  ‘Well, come on,’ said Imogen. ‘Let’s put our things away quickly, and then we’d better get back to the house and find out what we’re going to be doing.’

  As she put her washbag into the bedside cabinet, she removed her engagement ring and placed it on the shelf.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Joy.

  ‘It’s too big for me,’ said Imogen. ‘I’m bound to lose it.’

  ‘Well don’t leave it there,’ whispered Joy, looking around. ‘You might not find it’s there when you come back.’

  ‘Oh surely no one would…’ Imogen said.

  ‘Well you never know,’ Joy insisted.

  ‘I’ll wear it on a chain round my neck, then,’ said Imogen.

  ‘It seems rather a shame,’ said Joy. ‘No one will know you’re engaged.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Imogen, realising that was precisely what she wanted.

  ‘One or two ground rules,’ the officer said when the girls were all gathered together in front of the main house. ‘This is a top secret location. You are not to leave the grounds under any circumstances, unless travelling in a naval bus. Is that clear? Anyone found breaking these rules will be up on a charge.’