The 9

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘Hang on, I’ll fetch her,’ a woman said.

  Ena put another couple of pennies in the box. She didn’t want the call to end before-- ‘Bess, it’s Ena.’

  ‘Are you in Rugby?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s a bus any minute, so I’ll catch it, and if you can, will you pick me up from Lowarth in half an hour?’

  ‘Yes. See you in Church Street?’

  ‘Thanks, Bess.’ Ena heard the pips and put the phone on the cradle. She pressed button ‘B’ out of habit, but there wasn’t any change.

  Crossing from the telephone booth, Ena saw the bus was at the stop. She waved to the driver and ran for it. Stowing her suitcase in the luggage compartment, she found a seat and paid the conductor the fare.

  The journey took less than half an hour, and when she got off the bus in Church Street, Bess was waiting for her in Lady Foxden’s black Rover.

  Opening the back passenger door, Ena threw her case and handbag onto the back seat, slammed the door, and joined her sister in the front of the car. ‘It’s good of you to pick me up,’ Ena said, leaning back in the comfortable leather seat.

  Bess pulled away from the kerb. ‘No trouble at all, I’d have fetched you from Rugby station if you’d have wanted.’

  Ena shook her head. ‘I’d have had to wait in the cold waiting room. If the buffet had been open I’d have had something to eat, but it’s closed at this time of day on Sundays.’

  Bess laughed. ‘Didn’t Freda’s uncle feed you before you left Northampton?’

  ‘I had a big breakfast, but it seems like ages ago now. Bess?’ Ena thought she’d ask her about Henry while they were on their own, which didn’t happen often these days. Bess glanced sideways, and Ena carried on. ‘Henry Green was at the dance. Well, I met him before when I was with Freda and arranged to see him there. Do you still hear from him?’

  ‘I haven’t heard from him recently. I think the last time was Christmas. Why?’

  ‘Nothing really…’

  Bess looked in the rear view mirror before steering the car left onto the Woodcote road. Ena could see she was smiling. ‘Are you sweet on him?’ her sister asked, as they cruised along the road to Mysterton.

  ‘No!’ Bess shot her a knowing look. ‘I’m not sweet on him, but I like him.’

  ‘And there’s a difference?’

  ‘Yes, there is. It’s a bit... oh I don’t know.’ Ena floundered for the right words. She couldn’t tell Bess where it had happened, but she could tell her when and what had happened. ‘To cut a long story short, I went outside and a man followed me. Henry came out looking for me and, well, you could say he saved me.’ Ena glanced at her sister. She looked worried. ‘Nothing happened,’ Ena said quickly, to put her sister’s mind at rest. ‘Anyway, I spent the rest of the evening with Henry, talking, and I got to know him. And I really do like him.’

  ‘And you want to know what I think?’ Ena nodded. ‘He’s quite a lot older than you and--’

  ‘And what?’ Before he sister had time to answer, Ena said, ‘Does Henry… bat for the other side?’

  ‘What? Where on earth did you hear that expression?’

  ‘When I told Binkie, a friend, that you and Henry had walked out together when you were young, she said, ‘“Old Highbrow Henry hasn’t always batted for the other side then.”’

  ‘Who is this friend? If I were you’d I’d steer clear of her. Sounds to me as if she’s jealous.’

  Ena laughed. ‘Binkie Brinklow jealous of me? I don’t think so! Binkie is very beautiful and very rich.’

  ‘Then she’s probably used to men falling at her feet, and when Henry didn’t, she made something up to save face.’ Bess threw her head back and tutted. ‘Henry wouldn’t fall for the likes of this Binkie character, she sounds too superficial for him.’ Bess looked at Ena, her brow furrowed. ‘Henry’s lovely. He’s a bit serious – and of course there’s the age difference – but if you like him, I’m happy for you.’

  As they pulled up outside their parents’ cottage, Ena said, ‘Don’t say anything about Henry to Mam or Dad, will you. Henry might not feel the same about me. Even if he does, it’s early days.’

  ‘It’s our secret.’

  ‘And for goodness sake don’t mention that I was followed,’ Ena said, jumping out of the car. ‘Dad would go mad.’

  ‘I won’t, but you must promise me that you won’t go walking around a strange town on your own again – especially at night.’

  ‘I promise. Thanks for the lift.’ Ena closed the front door, opened the back, and hauled out her case and handbag. ‘See you during the week.’

  ‘Goodbye, love. And be careful.’

  ‘I’m always careful.’ As she said the words, a vision of the faceless man in the trilby hat who had followed her flashed into her mind. Pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Ena metaphorically brushed the man away.

  Waving off her sister, Ena went up the path and into the house by the back door. ‘Mm, something smells good,’ she said, entering the kitchen.

  ‘It’s your dinner,’ her mother said. ‘We’ve had ours an hour since, yours is in the oven keeping warm.’

  Ena’s father got up from the table and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Good to have you home, love. I’ll put this in your bedroom,’ he said, taking the case out of her hand. ‘I’ve got to organise the ARP rotas. I’ll be in the living room, at the table,’ he said to Ena’s mother and left the room.

  ‘What’s Freda’s uncle like?’ Ena’s mother asked, placing her Sunday dinner on the kitchen table. ‘Is his house posh? I expect it is.’ She sat down to hear Ena’s news. ‘Well? What was it like?’

  ‘Nice. A bit like our Margaret’s in-laws house in Coventry. You know, semi-detached, three bedrooms, small front garden, long narrow back garden,’ Ena lied.

  ‘And her uncle?’

  ‘Nice. He was out when we got there yesterday, and he went off early this morning, so I didn’t see much of him, but he was very nice.’ Ena’s mother leaned forward, ready to hear more. ‘I’m starving hungry, Mam. Can I eat my dinner while it’s hot and tell you about the weekend later?’

  Clearly unimpressed by the lack of information, Lily Dudley frowned. ‘I’ll put the kettle on then,’ she said, getting up from the table and busying herself at the stove.

  When Ena had finished eating, her mother brought the tea tray to the table, and asked Ena one question after another. ‘Did you and Freda have a nice time at the dance?’ ‘Did you meet any nice young men?’ ‘I suppose that American was there?’ What her mother had against Ben, Ena couldn’t imagine. She had only ever said nice things about him. There were only nice things to say.

  When she had answered her mother’s questions, keeping what she told her simple, so she’d remember what she’d said if her mother asked her again, Ena yawned and pushed her chair away from the table. ‘Thanks, Mam, that was lovely.’ Getting up, she stacked the tea things on the tray and put them on the draining board. ‘Don’t you like to listen to the wireless at this time on a Sunday afternoon? Come on, let’s go into Dad. He must have finished the ARP rotas by now.’ Ena opened the kitchen door and waited for her mother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ena arrived at work before Mr Silcott and Freda. Mr Silcott had no appointments in the diary and would probably arrive soon. Goodness knows what time Freda would get in, coming all the way from Northampton.

  Ena put on the kettle to make a cup of tea and, while it boiled, sorted through the post. There were four letters. One for Freda and three for Mr Silcott, which she put on their respective desks.

  Mr Silcott arrived as the kettle whistled. ‘I timed that well.’

  ‘You did,’ Ena said. She poured their tea and took Mr Silcott his.

  A despatch rider arrived with the usual large brown envelope from the Ministry of Defence. Ena took charge of it, and asked him if he would like a cup of tea. Checking his watch, he said, ‘I’ll have one in the canteen, if it’s all right.’

  Several
couriers delivered work orders from the MoD, but this young chap, Ena remembered, had been talking to one of the girls on the factory floor the last time he was here. Ena had asked the girl afterwards if he’d asked her about the work she did. He hadn’t. The courier looked at his watch again. Ena smiled. The cheeky monkey had purposely arrived at morning tea break, so he could talk to the girl he was sweet on. ‘You know where it is.’ Before she had time to thank him, he was gone.

  Thinking about the young dispatch rider’s lack of subtlety, Ena ran the paper knife along the top of the envelope, slicing through the words Top Secret. Every time she opened an envelope, or read a work order from the MoD, she was reminded that the work she and Freda did at Silcott Engineering was secret.

  When the morning tea break was over, Ena discussed the work order, and what needed to be done, with her friend, Madge Taylor. Madge was the forewoman in charge of a hand-picked gang of women engineers. Some of the women were local, and some had worked for Williams Engineering in Coventry and relocated after the factory was bombed. The women worked hard, often on difficult and complicated jobs, and the hours were long and unsociable. But when they were working, Madge was working – and so was Ena.

  Ena returned to the annexe. Freda still hadn’t arrived. She picked up the letter Freda had received that morning, turned it over, and read the back. The Lady of Liverpool Ferry Co. A new customer, she thought. Well done, Freda. She hadn’t been getting as much work of late. Ena dropped the envelope on the counter by Freda’s desk. It landed with a thud. Heavy, she mused.

  ‘Did Freda ring when I was on the factory floor, Mr Silcott?’

  ‘No. Has she got anything that needs attending to today?’ Wondering what was in the envelope, Ena was only half listening. ‘Ena?’

  ‘Sorry… Yes. The work for Beaumanor that she finished on Friday. She was going to deliver it today.’

  Mr Silcott pushed his chair away from his desk. ‘I’d planned to go up there one day this week. So, as I have a full tank of petrol,’ he said, grinning like a child with a new toy, ‘I’ll take the work up. You’ll be all right on your own for a couple hours, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll get a sandwich from the canteen for my lunch, while you’re here.’ Ena took her purse and left her boss telephoning Beaumanor.

  When she returned, Mr Silcott put the invoices in the top drawer of his desk and took out the key to the safe. ‘Give me a hand, will you, Ena?’

  Ena left the sandwich on the counter by Freda’s desk and went over to the safe. Mr Silcott handed her the key.

  When she had unlocked it, he lifted the heavy lid and Ena took out Freda’s work. Placing the large box on Freda’s desk, Ena helped Mr Silcott to put the lid back in place. The bunker was empty, but Ena locked it and returned the key to the top drawer of her boss’s desk.

  When Herbert Silcott left, Ena got on with her work. She took the chamois leather bundle of precision tools from her toolbox and marked up the first of several dials. She had been working for less than two hours when she heard the lunch bell ring, followed by enthusiastic chatter as the women went past the door of the annexe to the canteen.

  Any other day, Ena would have joined them, but she wasn’t in the mood today. She was hungry, and since she had put her tools down, decided to eat her sandwich. Where had she put it? She looked around and spotted the white paper bag containing the cheese and pickle sandwich on the side, where Freda worked. She got up and retrieved it, put the kettle on at the same time, and waiting for it to boil, ate half the sandwich. Refreshing the tea pot, Ena picked up Freda’s letter. She weighed it in her hand and put it down. Something about it bothered her.

  Finishing her sandwich, Ena tried to work, but she couldn’t concentrate. There was only one thing for it. She would see what was in the envelope addressed to Freda.

  Ena heard the women returning to work after lunch and waited. When it had been quiet outside the annexe for some minutes, she crossed the room and opened the door. There was no one in sight and the only sounds she could hear were the thumping and grinding of heavy machinery coming from the factory floor.

  Satisfied that she wouldn’t be disturbed, Ena closed the door and went over to the envelope. If she hadn’t told Herbert Silcott there was a letter for Freda, she would have opened it in the usual way, pretending later that she hadn’t realised it was a personal letter for Freda. She filled the kettle with the last of the water from the jug, lit the gas under it, and waited for it to boil.

  It felt like an eternity, but eventually steam drifted out of the kettle’s spout. Ena lifted the envelope and held it close to the increasing vapour. She watched the adhesive on the edge of the flap start to bubble and the ends of her fingers redden from the scalding steam. She was about to drop the envelope when the mist of minute water droplets moistened the bond fully and it gave up its tacky grip.

  Laying the envelope down on the flat surface, Ena picked off rapidly drying gobbets of glue. One speck of dried glue, however small, and Freda would know the letter had been opened. With the flap of the envelope in near to pristine condition, Ena eased out its contents.

  Ena caught her breath, unable to believe what she was seeing. She was holding three one-way tickets to Ireland on the Lady of Liverpool ferry for the week after next. Carefully she opened each of them. The first was in the name of Freda King, the second Walter King – Freda’s brother – and the third Mr H. Villiers. Ena let out a sigh of relief. The ‘H’ who wrote to Freda was called Villiers.

  After making a note of the ferry’s name, the time and date of its departure from Liverpool and the arrival time in Ireland, Ena returned the tickets to the envelope. Taking a jar of paper glue from the stationery cupboard, she carefully brushed the adhesive along the top of the envelope. As if she were staying within the lines of a child’s drawing, she took care not to go beyond the line where the previous glue had been.

  When she had finished, she took a step back. There were no wrinkles, which meant she hadn’t put on too much glue. The next part of the job was closing the envelope. There was no time for hesitation, indecision led to mistakes. In one confident movement, Ena folded the envelope, pressed on the seal, and walked away.

  It would be five minutes before the glue set. She looked at the door. If Freda came in now God knows what she’d do. Ena’s hands were trembling. She walked up and down the room shaking them out, looking at her watch every few seconds. ‘Five minutes,’ she said at last, and went back to Freda’s envelope. A nervous laugh escaped her lips and she blew out her cheeks. It looked perfect. She picked it up and turned it over. No one would know it had ever been tampered with.

  Ena felt hot and her head ached. She put down the letter, left the annexe and went outside. She lapped the car park, as much to settle her nerves as to get some air, finally dropping onto the low wall by the factory’s main entrance. She wondered what time Mr Silcott would return from Beaumanor. It took Freda three hours when she delivered work there. She guessed it would be the same for her boss.

  Ena couldn’t get the ferry tickets to Ireland out of her mind. Obviously Freda, her brother Walter, and this H. Villiers character, were going there together. But why? For a holiday? Freda always insisted she didn’t need a holiday. People change their minds, Ena thought. Strange though, that Freda hadn’t mentioned she was going to Ireland.

  Ena stood up, arched her back and stretched out her arms. She felt better for the fresh air and went back to the annexe. She stood at Freda’s desk. It had been a while since Ena had looked through Freda’s personal letters. There may be more now. There might even be one that would shed light on why Freda was going to Ireland.

  Without wasting more time, Ena opened the top drawer of Freda’s desk. It contained worksheets mostly. There were a few unpaid bills and a receipt held together by rubber bands, but nothing unusual. Making sure she left the papers in exactly the same order she had found them, Ena slid the drawer to and opened the next one down.

  The second drawer held petr
ol vouchers – one or two a month going back to the beginning of the year. Closing it, Ena pulled on the bottom drawer. It didn’t budge. Remembering it had stuck once before, because an envelope got jammed at the back, Ena pulled it again, harder. It not only didn’t open, there was no give in it. It was locked. Ena’s pulse began to quicken. Had Freda locked it as a precaution or because she knew someone had looked at her private correspondence before and was making sure they couldn’t do it again?

  Either scenario would mean trouble if she was caught. Ena weighed up the situation and decided that, after what she had learned about Freda today, anything she had hidden in a locked drawer was too important to ignore.

  Keeping an eye on the door, Ena crossed to Mr Silcott’s desk and took out his keys. She knew one of them opened the drawers in her desk, because the wages had been locked in there on the few occasions that Mrs Silcott had brought them to the factory early. Ena wondered if the same key would unlock Freda’s drawer. It was worth a try.

  On her knees, Ena slipped the key into the small keyhole. She turned it slowly and heard the locking bar click back. Her hands were shaking. She took out the key, pulled the drawer open, and looked inside. There were several letters. Assuming the most recent would be on top of the pile, she took it and, getting to her feet, put it on the desk.

  For fear Freda would arrive and accuse her of spying on her, which was exactly what she was doing, Ena ran to her desk, dragged it across the room, and pushed it up against the door. She then tipped the remainder of her tea on the floor. If anyone tried to come in the door would bang against the desk, giving Ena time to put the letters back where they belonged. And if they asked what she was doing, she would say she’d spilt her tea and had moved the desk out of the way to clean it up. Whether anyone would believe her was another matter. For the moment, it was all she could think of.