The 9

by Madalyn Morgan

  As the train pulled out of Euston, Ena took the pear drops from her handbag. Looking at the cone-shaped packet, she felt the bitter taste of bile rise in her throat. She felt sick. It wasn’t travel sickness, it was something else, she didn’t know what. What she did know was, she didn’t fancy a sweet and dropped them back into her bag.

  Grateful to Ben for suggesting they travelled together, Ena watched him pick up his newspaper and settle back in his seat. As he opened it, he looked across the compartment at her. She noticed fine lines; the beginnings of a smile, playing at the corners of his eyes. But instead of smiling, he frowned. ‘Are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.’

  ‘I felt a bit queasy but I’m fine now. Really.’ She looked out of the window.

  A short while later, when the train was slowing down and Ena felt the grinding of the brakes, her stomach lurched again. ‘Is this Bletchley?’ she asked, praying it was.

  Ben looked over the top of his paper. ‘I thought you’d been to Bletchley before?’

  ‘I have. From the north, not the south.’

  ‘This is Willesden,’ he said, ‘We’ve got another half-dozen stations to go through before we get to Bletchley. Would you like part of my newspaper?’ Without waiting for Ena to reply, Ben removed the centre pages. ‘This will help you pass the hour.’

  ‘Hour!’

  ‘Almost,’ he said.

  Ena took the paper, opened it and began to read, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was too worried about what she was going to say to Mr Silcott and Commander Dalton when they asked how the suitcase containing her work had been stolen. She’d tell them the truth of course – but what was the truth? She couldn’t think. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton wool. She felt woozy and confused, so angry that she couldn’t remember what had happened to her. She wanted to scream. Tears of frustration threatened and she looked out of the window.

  ‘Cigarette?’ Ben asked.

  ‘No thank you,’ she said. Just the thought of smoking made her want to retch.

  ‘Mind if I do?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She watched Ben take a cigarette from a pack of Chesterfields and put it in his mouth. He held it between his lips and flicked the small wheel on the side of his lighter. She caught the faint scent of petrol as the blue flame appeared. Lighting the cigarette, Ben pulled deeply before exhaling a long stream of smoke.

  How am I going to lose him when we get to Bletchley? Ena thought. She felt a fluttering of excitement in her stomach. If it had been at any other time, in any other place, she would happily have gone with Ben to wherever it was he was going. Timbuktu, if he’d asked. But today she needed to go in any direction that was opposite to his.

  ‘This is it,’ Ben said, as the trained pulled into Bletchley station.

  Ena handed him the section of his newspaper that she had failed to read. As the train pitched to a halt, Ben folded it and put it in his pocket. Ena stood up and put on her gloves and scarf. They had gathered other passengers along the way and, having sat next to the window, were last to leave the compartment. ‘Will you be visiting your friend in Bletchley again?’ Ben asked.

  ‘I would like to,’ Ena said, butterflies flying round in her stomach again. ‘I don’t know when, and it depends on a few things.’ Whether I’m sacked after today, but she didn’t say that. ‘I will if I can.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ben beamed. ‘I work shifts and don’t get much time off, but if you could write and tell me when you’re coming down?’ Smiling happily, Ena nodded. He tore a piece of paper from a small notebook and scribbled down his address. ‘If you give me some warning – say three days – I can get one of the guys to swap shifts with me, and I can take you to tea, or lunch, depending when you’re here.’

  ‘I should like that.’

  ‘Okay then!’ Ben’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s a date.’

  ‘I suppose it is.’ Holding Ena’s arm, Ben helped her down from the train. On the platform, Ena looked up. They were standing so close to each other she could feel Ben’s breath on her cheek. She thought he was going to kiss her. She wouldn’t have minded if he had. She wanted to kiss him, and felt sure he wanted to kiss her. They did a little dance around each other, laughed, and shook hands. She watched him walk away. At the exit, he turned and waved. A second later he was gone.

  She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand. Benjamin F. Johnson, c/o The Ministry of Defence, Whitehall, London. She read the address again. He works in London, but he must come to Bletchley often, Ena thought, because he’d said he would take her to lunch, or tea, the next time she was here.

  She put Ben’s address in her handbag and looked around the station. She needed to waste a few minutes. Although Ben had left the station, he might be waiting outside for a taxi or a bus and she daren’t take the chance of him seeing which way she walked when she left. A little way along the platform was a waiting room, and next to that, the Ladies’ lavatory. Ena wondered about sitting quietly in the waiting room for ten minutes. Instead she decided to go to the toilet.

  Waiting in the queue, she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink. Having cried off her makeup, her face was pale with red blotches. And what was left of her mascara was streaked down her cheeks. She looked a fright and needed to wash her face and repair her makeup before she went to the Park.

  Taking a step towards the basins, Ena took Ben’s handkerchief from her handbag and gently rubbed at her face. When she had finished, she could still see faint lines of mascara and, on closer inspection, saw that rubbing her face had made it redder. Moving to the next basin, so she didn’t lose her place in the queue, she turned on the tap, dipped a corner of the hankie under the cold water, and held it against her cheeks. It felt good, and when she looked in the mirror again, the dark streaks had gone and the red blotches had calmed down.

  Satisfied that her face was at last clean, she patted it dry before putting on powder – she didn’t need rouge. She took her mascara from her handbag, spat on it, and after rubbing the small brush across the black block, she applied it in sweeping movements to her top and lower eyelashes. Her eyes still looked puffy, but there was nothing she could do about that. She put on her lipstick and combed her hair.

  Dropping her makeup into her handbag, Ena slipped into the queue and waited for a toilet to become vacant. When it did, she made for the door.

  ‘There’s a queue, you know!’ A barrel of a woman in a fur coat and Cossack-style hat spat.

  ‘Sorry, I thought as I have been waiting for some time--’

  ‘But you haven’t been waiting, have you?’ The old barrel said, ‘You’ve been putting your slap on.’ With that, the woman barged past Ena, almost knocking her over. The woman squeezed her huge frame into the narrow cubicle and slammed the door.

  Ena felt tears of anger pricking at the back of her eyes. She gave the woman next in the queue a friendly smile, but she looked past Ena and shuffled forwards, filling the gap left by the furred barrel. Forcing the tears not to fall, so she didn’t have to redo her makeup, Ena stormed out.

  ‘Stupid woman,’ she said aloud. She hadn’t been so clever either, Ena thought. After two cups of tea, she was desperate for the toilet. Now she would have to wait until she got to the mansion.

  Walking to Bletchley Park, Ena’s mind wandered to when she was drinking tea with Ben, and she wondered if she would see him again. So, he worked at the MoD in London. Her steps faltered and she caught her breath. Her brother-in-law Bill also worked at the MoD. Ena wondered if he knew Ben. It was a big place; the chances of them knowing each other were slim. Even so, she might mention Ben the next time she wrote to her sister Margaret.

  Forcing herself to smile, Ena approached Bletchley Park’s security gate. She handed the guard her identity papers and pass. ‘I’m here to see Commander Dalton. I believe my boss Mr Silcott is already here.’ The guard checked the documents, and nodded her through. The walk along the footpath to the mansion was short, but Ena was so desperate to go to the toilet,
it seemed like a mile. The nearer she got, the more nervous she was, making the need even greater.

  At the door, Ena took several calming breaths. No good shilly-shallying; she would tell Mr Silcott exactly what had happened, or as much as she could remember, making sure he understood that the theft of her work was not her fault. She had no idea how it had happened, but she did not just fall asleep…

  She walked briskly to the reception desk. ‘I’d like to see Commander Dalton, please.’

  ‘Certainly, miss,’ the officer said. ‘If you’d like to sign in, I’ll take you to his office. I’m going that way.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her legs felt like jelly and her hands were sweating. She wrote her name in the visitor’s book and followed the man along the labyrinth of passageways to the commander’s office.

  The door stood ajar. When she entered, it closed behind her with a bang, making her jump. As much as she was dreading it, the sooner she told Mr Silcott and the commander what had happened on the train the better.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘Come in, Miss Dudley. Take a seat.’ Commander Dalton pushed himself out of his chair to a half-standing position, sitting down again when Ena did. Mr Silcott wasn’t in the room. ‘Now,’ the commander said, ‘what can I do for you?’

  Ena’s hands trembled. She put them on her lap. ‘It’s about my work,’ she said, clenching her fists.

  ‘On time as usual, Miss Dudley.’ Ena’s mouth fell open. ‘Already taken through to the engineers.’ He looked at his watch. ‘They should be fitting it about now.’

  Ena stared at the commander for some seconds. Eventually she found her voice. ‘How did it get here?’

  ‘Herbert Silcott, of course, a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘Thank God! I need to speak to him,’ Ena said, jumping up. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He left after signing the work in, I think. Weren’t you with him?’

  ‘No. Did you see him?’

  ‘What is all this?’

  ‘Did you see Herbert Silcott sign the work in?’ Ena persisted.

  ‘No. I was in a meeting for most of the morning. By the time it finished, Herbert had left.’ Ena put her hands up to her mouth to stop herself from crying out. ‘Miss Dudley, it wasn’t necessary for me to see Herbert. His credentials were in order, he delivered the work on time, and took an order for more work away with him. What difference does it make whether I actually saw him or not?’

  Ena felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Because Mr Silcott wasn’t on the train.’

  Commander Dalton picked up the telephone, ‘Reception? I need to see the receipt book. Bring it in straight away, will you?’ He dropped the receiver onto its cradle and drummed his fingers on the top of the large mahogany desk. Ena made an O of her lips and blew through them to try and calm herself. She didn’t speak, nor did the commander.

  A sharp rap on the door made her jump. ‘Come!’ the commander shouted.

  ‘The receipt book, sir.’ The officer from reception laid the open book down in front of the commander and stepped back.

  Dalton ran his forefinger down the left side of the page. A faint smile played on his lips, which told Ena that he had found Mr Silcott’s signature. He turned the book round, so Ena could see, and pointed to H. Silcott. ‘There,’ he said, ‘you have nothing to worry about, Miss Dudley.’

  Ena looked from the signature to the commander. ‘That isn’t Mr Silcott’s signature.’

  Dalton’s eyes flashed with anger. He made a fist and brought it crashing down on the desk. ‘Then who the hell delivered your work? More importantly, how in God’s name did he get past security?’

  Ena’s heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest. She lowered her eyes. The commander was angry now, but he’d be furious when she told him she was almost certain the work delivered today wasn’t hers.

  Ena had no idea what happened to her work once it arrived at Bletchley. Mr Silcott always said he couldn’t tell her because that kind of information was need-to-know. But it didn’t take a genius to work out that, with all the secrecy surrounding it, her work was important. She took a shuddering breath. What if it had been tampered with? Chances were it had. No one in their right mind would go to the trouble of stealing it only to deliver it. She looked up at the commander and pressed her lips together. If her work has been sabotaged any readings it gave would be distorted. She had to say something. If she didn't, by the time the people working with it realised, it would be too late.

  She was terrified of telling the commander but she was more terrified of what the consequences would be if she didn’t tell him. She cleared her throat. ‘I don’t think it is my work, sir.’ Dalton shot her a look of outrage. She blanched and swallowed down the need to be sick. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but your engineers won’t be fitting my work, because my work has been stolen.’

  The commander stared at her, his eyes penetrating and unblinking. ‘Slow down, Miss Dudley, you are not making any sense.’ Ena did as he asked, reminding herself that she needed to be clear and exact in what she was about to tell him. ‘Are you telling me that an imposter delivered your work,’ he looked down at the receipt book, ‘more than three hours ago, and you are only telling me now?’

  ‘Yes, sir. If I could explain...’

  ‘You better had. And damn sharpish!’

  Ena sat up, her back straight. ‘First I’d like to say I had the case containing my work when I boarded the train at Rugby, and until… it never left my side.’ The commander gave her an accepting nod. ‘I thought I saw Mr Silcott get on the train and went to join him, but I couldn’t find him. Thinking about it now, I don’t believe it was Mr Silcott who boarded the train.’ She cleared her throat. ‘There was a man in a compartment who at first I thought was Mr Silcott. I am convinced that that man drugged me and stole my work, because after Northampton I remember nothing until I woke up in Euston and the case had gone.’

  Commander Dalton snatched up the telephone. ‘Put me through to the engineers.’ There was silence for ten seconds, and then, ‘This is Commander Dalton. Have you fitted the work that came in from Lowarth yet?’ The answer must have been no, because he barked, ‘Then don’t. It may have been sabotaged.’ He slammed the telephone down making Ena jump. She fought to regain her composure. ‘Would you be able to tell at a glance if your work has been sabotaged?’

  Not sure that she would just looking at it, Ena hesitated. ‘I…’

  ‘Would you, or would you not, Miss Dudley?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I would.’

  The commander picked up the telephone again. ‘Get me the engineers again, will you? And then let Intelligence know that we may have a problem. This is Dalton. I’m bringing someone from the factory in Lowarth to look at the work.’ He put down the phone, pushed himself out of his chair and marched across the room to the door. Ena followed.

  Running to keep up, Ena followed Commander Dalton out of the front door and along a narrow path to a large square building. Made of concrete, it was a complete contrast to the mansion, and looked out of place in Bletchley Park’s grounds. As she went in, Ena heard the clack-clack-clacking of what sounded like typewriters in a typing pool and female voices calling out numbers at the same time. She glanced into the first room on the left. Dozens of women wearing earphones were sitting round an oblong table, scribbling ferociously on large sheets of paper.

  The next room looked like a huge telephone exchange with women putting connecting plugs in and out of giant switchboards. Fascinated, Ena watched the women move around one another in swift, smooth movements.

  She was miles away when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked along the corridor and saw Commander Dalton, grim-faced, disappear into the next room down.

  Putting a spurt on, Ena soon arrived at the door. Although it was open, she knocked before entering. Commander Dalton and three other men stood around a wooden workbench. As she walked over to join them, all four men focussed on her.

  ‘This
is Miss Dudley,’ Dalton said. ‘She is responsible for…’ Ena’s heart almost stopped with embarrassment, ‘for some of the work that comes from the Midlands. She is going to check this particular consignment, because she believes it may have been tampered with.’

  Ena looked at the men in front of her. The two in overalls she assumed were engineers. Both nodded. She turned to the other man, and froze. Henry Green was from Lowarth. He had been the childhood sweetheart of her sister Bess as well as a friend of their family. Friend, or not, his face showed no sign of having known her. Ena smiled, as she had done to the other men, but didn’t acknowledge him.

  The X-board had been taken out of its box; the case it was delivered in stood open on the floor. ‘If I could have some tools?’ Ena said, pointing to a toolbox at the end of the bench. The engineer nearest the toolbox passed it along to her.

  Trying to forget the four men watching, Ena looked at her work. She wondered which would be the easiest, quickest, part of the X-board to sabotage – wiring, or the dials? Wires would be easier, but the damage more difficult to locate. Dials not so easy, but any damage would be easier to see. She decided she would have to look at both.

  ‘Does anyone have a magnifying glass?’ The first engineer’s hand shot up to the breast pocket in of his overalls and produced a finely-engineered magnifier.

  She looked over her shoulder at Commander Dalton. ‘I’ll need to sit down.’

  Henry Green fetched a chair from a desk by the window and placed it behind her. ‘Thank you,’ she said, pulling the chair up to the bench and sitting. It wasn’t hot in the room but Ena was sweating and her hands felt sticky. She rubbed her palms down the front of her coat before unbuttoning it and letting it fall open.

  Aware that every move she made was being noted, Ena took the diagram that she’d worked from at Silcott’s out of the lid of the box and scrutinised it. She looked from the board to the diagram and back several times. There was a writing pad and a pen on the bench. Ena took it and made notes. The commander and the two engineers leant forward to watch what she was doing, making her feel even more nervous.