The 9

by Madalyn Morgan

  The man looked up from his newspaper, his fair eyebrows raised with surprise. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello?’ Ena felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment. The man sitting opposite her was not her boss. Ena studied his face. His square jaw, blond hair and pale grey-blue eyes looked familiar. She had seen him before, she was sure she had, but where?

  The man picked up his paper and shook it open. Ena leaned forward to read the front page. “AT LAST THE YANKS ARE HERE” and “IKE WILL SHOW HITLER”.

  ‘About time too!’ the man said. Ena jumped. Embarrassed again, because looking at his paper felt as if she’d been looking over his shoulder. ‘Mind you,’ he continued, ‘if the Japanese hadn’t attacked the US Naval base at Pearl Harbor in December they might still be dragging their feet.’

  Ena nodded. She supposed he was right. ‘Excuse me, but do I know you?’

  ‘You don’t know me exactly, but we have met,’ the man said. ‘You were with a friend. A fair haired young woman.’ Ena had no recollection, and smiled through a frown. ‘It would have been on this train,’ he persisted. ‘Of course, it wasn’t actually this train,’ he laughed. ‘What I mean is, I go down to my company’s head office in Bletchley every Friday, often on the 9:45, so if we have met, it would have been on a Friday and at around this time.’

  The only female Ena travelled to Bletchley with was Freda. She traced back in her mind the times she and Freda had been to Bletchley. They had spoken to so many people... Then she recognised the man. He had spoken to them. At least he had spoken to Freda. Been quite pally, if memory served. Ena thought for some minutes, and then said, ‘Yes, I do remember you. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘I suppose it was. Time flies, doesn’t it?’

  Distracted, wondering where Mr Silcott was, Ena nodded.

  ‘You look worried. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I saw my boss get on the train at this end of the carriage and, as this compartment is the nearest one to the door he boarded by, I thought he would be in here.’

  The man dropped his newspaper onto his lap and opened his arms. ‘No one here but me,’ he said, looking around the compartment.

  ‘I can see that!’ Annoyed because the man was laughing at her, Ena got up to leave.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. What does your boss look like? I might have seen him.’

  There was something about the man that Ena didn’t like, but she needed to know if he had seen Mr Silcott. ‘He’s in his mid-fifties. He’s an inch or two taller than me, so he’s about five-ten. His hair is dark, almost black, with grey in it, and he’s wearing a camel coloured overcoat and brown trilby.’

  The man shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

  Ena blew out her cheeks. ‘He’s got my ticket, so I’d better go and find him.’

  ‘I boarded in Birmingham, and I haven’t seen anyone fitting your boss’s description. If I had, I’d have said.’

  ‘Of course you would. I’m sorry to have troubled you. I’ll leave you in peace.’

  ‘If you don’t find him, come back. These seats are vacant now, but for how long?’ He shrugged.

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  ‘Tell you what!’ the man said, stopping Ena, ‘Why don’t you leave your heavy case in here while you look for him. I’ll keep my eye on it for you--’

  ‘I can’t do that. Thank you anyway, but I’ll manage,’ she said, picking up her belongings. She walked the short distance back to the next compartment. Mr Silcott wasn’t in there, or the next. She described her boss to everyone, even people she passed in the corridor, but no one had seen him.

  Her arms were dropping off by the time the train pulled into Northampton. Worried that the first compartment she went in to, the only compartment with vacant seats, would be full by the time the train left the station, Ena returned to it.

  Putting her case under the window, Ena sat next to it and stared out. Not focussing on anything, she sighed heavily.

  ‘You didn’t find your boss then?’

  ‘No. I suppose he could be in another carriage. I thought I saw him get into this one, but it was raining heavily… I could have been mistaken.’

  Looking to the heavens in exasperation, a coat on the overhead rack caught Ena’s eye. It had been turned inside out, and folded double, but she could see it was camel in colour. Her heart gave a couple of quick beats and she felt suddenly hot. Instinctively she leant forward and pulled the case nearer. As she did so, she saw the man’s shoes. A cursory glance was enough for her to see they were wet, and the floor around them damp. If the man had been sitting in this compartment all the way from Birmingham, his shoes would be dry by now. If not dry, they wouldn’t still be soaking wet, or would they? She wasn’t sure how long the train took to get from Birmingham to Rugby.

  ‘Do you have pear drops for the journey?’ the man asked.

  Startled, Ena repeated, ‘Pear drops?’

  ‘Yes. I have just remembered that you and your friend ate pear drops when we met. And, as you are looking a little pale, I wondered if you still suffer from travel sickness… Ignore me. I didn’t mean to be personal.’

  ‘It’s fine, you’re not being… Yes, we always suck pear drops when we travel.’ Taking the cone-shaped packet from her handbag, Ena undid it and held it out to the man for him to help himself. ‘Would you like one?’

  ‘I would. Thank you.’ The man took the packet out of Ena’s hand and looked at its contents. ‘Now, which flavour shall I choose?’

  Ena laughed. ‘Don’t be fooled by the different colours, they all taste the same. If not the same, they are very similar.’

  The man took a pear drop and put it in his mouth, before passing the packet back to Ena. Popping one into her mouth, she twisted the top of the packet, and returned it to her handbag. Leaning back in her seat, she looked out of the window.

  The crick in her neck and the pain in her side made Ena think she had fallen sideways. She reached out to push herself up, but her hand, as numb as her feet, liquefied like an unset jelly. She screamed, but could make no sound. Her heart thumped and her pulse throbbed so loudly that she could hear the blood pumping in her ears. ‘What the--?’ was all she said before she gave into the pain in her head, which was followed quickly by silence, and then darkness.

  Vaporous images floated in front of her eyes. She shook her head to rid herself of the ghostly apparitions. If she could lift her head, she would turn her back on them, but it was too heavy. Ouch! Her forehead bumped against something hard and cold.

  ‘Where am I?’ a small voice deep in the recesses of her mind called out. ‘Help me. Please,’ she called again, but her voice refused to come forward and make itself heard. Her lips were dry. She tried to moisten them with her tongue, but it was stuck to the top of her mouth.

  What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she speak, or move? Had she had some sort of stroke? Surely the man sitting opposite her would have noticed if she had. If only she could sit upright. She tried again to push herself into a sitting position but her arms melted in the same way that her hands had done, so she gave up trying.

  Nausea washed over her in giant waves. She was always sick if she closed her eyes when she travelled. There was only one thing for it. Ena forced her eyes open, but instead of feeling better, a kaleidoscope of bright, piercing lights darted towards her and she closed them again.

  In the darkness, Ena heard whispering. Relieved that her senses were returning, she strained to hear what the person was saying. She couldn’t tell if it was a man, or a woman, but someone said, ‘Damn!’

  ‘Shush! She will hear you,’ a man’s voice warned. As the feeling in her hands and feet started to come back, Ena fought an overwhelming desire to sleep. Her head began to clear and her thoughts became more lucid. She heard a click, followed by second clink, as metal met metal. She lifted her head from the train’s window, opened her eyes, and squinted under her eyelashes.

  Lights stil
l flashed across her vision, but they were not as bright and there were not as many. And there was something else. Dark at first and then lighter, but never light enough to see who or what they were, two forms loomed up in front of her. What the…? Are they ghosts? Am I dead? Perhaps I am. ‘Hello?’ Ena said, but they didn’t answer. ‘Please help me,’ she called. This time they heard her, because the taller of the two shapes turned.

  As if he was speaking from the bottom of a deep well, a man said, ‘She is awake.’

  ‘Give her another shot,’ the shorter shape hissed.

  Ena felt thirsty, dehydrated. Able to move her tongue, she licked her lips. It made no difference. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth to encourage saliva. It didn’t work. She took a breath and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could form the word help, the tall shape was bending over her. A second later everything turned black.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The platform on Euston station was a sea of people pushing to get to the exits. Ena spotted the buffet and weaved her way through the crowd to its entrance. She stumbled through the door and fell into the first empty seat. The buffet was noisy and as packed as the platform had been.

  ‘Excuse me, miss, is this seat taken?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ena whispered. She took a shuddering breath. ‘Please take it.’ She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, to see a tall dark-haired man in his early twenties. He made no attempt to take the chair. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and realising he wanted to sit down, took her coat from the seat and laid it across her knees. ‘I thought--’ was all she said before tears fell again. She looked away, reached into her handbag and rummaged around for a clean handkerchief. She always kept a spare in her bag, but there wasn’t one in it today. The one bloody day she needed a spare hankie she didn’t have one. She took the handkerchief that she’d used earlier from beneath her coat. It was sodden. She gave a shuddering breath. It was the last straw. Overwhelmed by a feeling of defeat, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

  ‘Excuse me?’ the young man said, offering Ena a neatly folded white handkerchief. Ena lifted her face to him and pressing her lips together – she daren’t speak for fear she would scream – took the handkerchief, nodded her thanks and wiped her tears.

  She hardly noticed the young man get up from the table. When he returned it was with two hot drinks, tea for Ena and a black coffee for himself. He moved her empty cup and saucer to the other side of the table and replaced it with the full cup.

  Dropping the handkerchief onto her lap, Ena put her hands around the hot drink to warm them. She had cried so much that she had exhausted herself and was shivering. Although the buffet was warm from so many bodies seated in such a small area, Ena felt cold. She ought to put her coat on, but just the thought of standing up and doing so exhausted her more. She took a sip of tea and felt better for it. ‘Thank you,’ she said, making a conscious effort to pull herself together.

  ‘You’re welcome, miss.’

  Ena looked in her handbag again. This time for her purse. Taking it out, she opened it and offered the man a half-crown. ‘For my tea.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ he said, ‘buying tea for a beautiful woman is a pleasure.’

  ‘I insist,’ she said. If it had been any other day, she would have been delighted to receive a compliment from such a good-looking man. She looked up at him and their eyes met. Fearing she had turned red, she said, ‘First the handkerchief, and now the tea. What next?’ she said, attempting a joke.

  ‘You can tell me why you were crying. I’m a good listener.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got twenty minutes until my train leaves.’

  If only I could, Ena thought. ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I mean, don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Okay, let’s talk about something else. Not your English weather,’ he said. ‘There are so many things I love about England, my mom was English and I went to university here, but your weather,’ he said, shaking his head. Ena laughed. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re talking about the weather.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I? He laughed too. ‘I’m Ben, by the way. Benjamin Franklin Johnson. Named after my country’s most famous founding father, Benjamin Franklin.’ He offered Ena his hand.

  ‘You have a lot to live up to,’ Ena said, taking Ben’s hand and shaking it. ‘Ena Dudley. Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Hi, Ena.’

  ‘If you were named after Benjamin Franklin you were obviously born in America.’

  ‘Yeah, Boston. But surely you could tell that from my accent.’

  ‘You could have been Canadian.’

  ‘I guess.’ Ben laughed. ‘Don’t ever ask a Canadian if he’s an American. The guys I work with don’t like being mistaken for us Yanks. Though we’re not that different from them.’ Ben looked at Ena for a moment and smiled. ‘Maybe one day when the war’s over, you’ll visit the US. It’s a great country.’

  ‘It’s a large continent.’

  Ben sat back in his seat, his eyes wide with surprise.

  Ena laughed despite herself. ‘Don’t be too impressed. What I know about America is from geography lessons at school. The Rockies, Grand Canyon, and the Great Lakes… that’s where my knowledge of North America begins and ends, I’m afraid.’ Still feeling shaky, Ena picked up her cup. It was empty. She put it down.

  ‘Would you like some more tea?’ Ben asked, already on his feet.

  ‘No. Thank you. If I have another cup, I shall be swimming to Bletchley.’ Her hand flew to her mouth and she felt the colour rush to her cheeks. She inhaled sharply. She shouldn’t tell a stranger she was going to Bletchley. She shouldn’t tell anyone. Thank goodness she didn’t say Bletchley Park. Her heart beat fast. She looked at Ben and told him her cover story. ‘We have a friend who lives in Bletchley. That is, my boss and I. She used to work with us at-- anyway, we were going to visit her, but we got separated and I missed the stop. Stupid thing to do, miss the stop.’ Ena tutted and rolled her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be so down on yourself. It’s an easy thing to do if you’re not sure of where you’re going. Hey, I’m going to see some people in Bletchley today. We can travel together.’ Ben looked at his watch. ‘The next train is in fifteen minutes.’

  Feeling the wings of panic beating in her chest, Ena opened her mouth to give the young American a reason why she wasn’t able to travel with him, but couldn’t think of one.

  ‘That way I’ll be able to get to know you, and you won’t miss your stop. Okay?’

  Was it really okay to travel to Bletchley with a man she didn’t know? It couldn’t hurt, Ena reasoned, as long as she didn’t tell him anything about Silcott’s Engineering or Bletchley Park. And she would have to make sure that when they arrived, she walked away from the station in the opposite direction to him. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. It wasn’t travelling with Ben to Bletchley that was worrying her. It was having to face Mr Silcott and Commander Dalton when she got there. The thought of telling them that her work had been stolen terrified her. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her sight.

  ‘Hey? What is it?’

  Ena could see real concern in Ben’s eyes. He would probably keep her secret if she told him, but she couldn’t, she would be breaking the Official Secrets Act. But she had to tell him something. There had to be some reason for her tears. She wiped her face and thought of something that was close enough to the truth, without being the truth, that would make her cry.

  ‘I was taking something important to my friend, the one I told you about, that I used to work with.’ She looked around. No one was listening. The only people sitting near enough to hear what she was saying were engrossed in their own conversation. Keeping her voice low, just in case, Ena took a shaky breath. ‘And it was stolen.’ She knew she shouldn’t go any further with the story, but the words kept tumbling out of her mouth. It was as if she couldn’t stop. ‘I shall be in terrible trouble. When my boss, who is also a friend of hers, finds out, he’ll sack me.
I won’t be able to get another job, because no one will trust me again.’

  Ben reached across the table and covered Ena’s hands with his. ‘Slow down and take a breath.’ Ena nodded, and when she was calmer, he said, ‘You were with your boss?’ Ena looked down and nodded. ‘So where is the guy? Did he get off the train at Bletchley?’

  Ena shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ Ben’s brow furrowed. He looked questioningly at her. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. There’s probably a simple explanation, though what it is, I don’t know. And it won’t stop me from being in trouble for losing the case.’

  ‘You said it was stolen.’

  ‘It was.’ Oh Lord. Ena bit her bottom lip. She hated lying. She never remembered what she’d said when she lied. ‘It must have been, but…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I can’t prove it. I had a terrible headache,’ Ena said, rubbing her temples. ‘It started behind my eyes.’ She thought for a moment. ‘The sun was shining through the window directly onto my face. It was so bright it hurt my eyes, so I closed them. I only meant to shut them for a second, to ease the pain. But I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was waking up in Euston. The carriage was empty and the bag had gone.’

  Ben smiled at her sympathetically, then looked at his watch. ‘Come on. It’s 1.20, our train leaves in ten minutes. We’d better make our way to the platform.’

  ‘I need to buy a ticket. My boss bought mine, when he got his own, at…’

  ‘Do you have any money?’

  ‘Oh yes. Mr-- my boss gave me enough money to get me home, if we got separated. And I’ve got an emergency ten-bob note. I didn’t think I’d have to use it.’

  They stood up at the same time. Ena put her handbag on the seat of her chair and Ben helped her into her coat. Grabbing her gasmask from the back of the chair, she picked up her handbag and allowed Ben to take her by the elbow and walk her out of the buffet. They went together to the ticket office and while Ena bought a single to Bletchley, Ben bought a newspaper from a vendor close by. Feeling more composed, Ena strolled down to the platform at the side of her new and incredibly good-looking friend.