by Jules Wake
‘If you’re sure, Sir,’ she said doubtfully. While she found her work fascinating and compelling, she wasn’t very experienced yet and all these people working here seemed very smart and well-to-do. The Major glowed with health and had that sheen of rich people. She wasn’t easily intimidated but he was something else, like a comet or a star, hundreds of miles out of reach.
‘Yes, I’m certain. Major Smith and I have been mighty impressed with the quality of your work. You have a great eye for detail and an extraordinary memory. We were just saying that you piece things together like no one else.’
‘But it’s easy,’ she said with a quick shrug. ‘When I’ve seen something, I can remember the page that it was on. Like a picture in my head. So, if I’ve read something, I can remember what the whole page looks like and then I can go back and find what I need.’
‘Really?’ The Major stared at her and for a moment, she wished she hadn’t volunteered the information. She’d never ever talked about it before, partly because when she was at school, learning came so easily to her, she spent more time helping the younger and slower-to-learn children and had never had anyone to talk to about it.
‘That’s incredible.’ He sounded as if he meant it.
‘Is it?’
‘I’ve heard of people with what they call photographic memories, but I’ve never met one before.’
Now it was her turn to say, ‘Really?’ A sudden punch of pride warmed her to the very tips of her ears. Incredible. He was calling her incredible.
‘Yeah, that’s really special.’
‘Oh, right-ho,’ she said, preening a little because after all, it was rather nice to be told that she could do something special.
‘No wonder you’re one of our best analysts. Brains as well as beauty.’
Now she really did smile. ‘Why thank you, Sir.’ Compliments about her looks she could swallow quite easily. Even her dad had said she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen and he didn’t approve of unnecessary vanity. He was far more likely to say, ‘Handsome is as handsome does.’
‘Are you going to the dance next month?’
‘Er, I’m not sure yet,’ she said. What dance? And why didn’t she know about it? Under his twinkling gaze she finally admitted, ‘Which dance is this?’
He laughed. ‘At RAF Bovingdon. The USAF have moved in and they’re looking for a little entertainment.’
‘Well, I’ll certainly think about it.’ She gave him a sudden impish smile. ‘I do love to dance.’
‘Know how to jitterbug?’
‘I might do,’ she said, realising that he was flirting with her. Already her eyes had lit up at the thought it. Music. Dancing. That would be so much fun.
‘Perhaps you could save me a dance.’
‘Perhaps I could.’ Her spirits lifted at the thought of going out for a change. She enjoyed her work but hadn’t felt carefree and joyous for months. When she’d been in London, there’d been a gang of them that had gone up West dancing or to the theatre. She missed all that.
‘Ah, Major Wendermeyer,’ a voice interrupted and a flash of disappointment darted through Betty when his attention moved to the RAF Flight-Lieutenant who walked in. ‘The meeting starts at oh-nine-thirty hours in the library.’
‘Excellent. I’ve invited Sergeant Connors here to attend.’
The Flight-Lieutenant looked at her. ‘Connors. Oh yes. We’ve seen some excellent work from you.’ He frowned as he looked at her, as if what he knew didn’t match up with her appearance. She shot him a curt smile. ‘Brains and beauty,’ she said smartly, clearly feeling a dart of satisfaction when the gibe hit home.
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ He looked a little discomfited but then he nodded with a rueful smile of apology. ‘Indeed ma’am. Brains and beauty. My apologies. I look forward to you joining us in the meeting.’ He saluted the Major and hurried out.
‘Nicely played, Sergeant,’ said the Major, winking at her. ‘Sharp as a tack too. I like a woman who stands up for herself.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’ She didn’t dare wink back at him – that was probably pushing it with a senior officer – but she gave him a cheeky grin.
The meeting was a little over her head at first, as they spoke in acronyms and about people whom she’d never heard of before, however she quickly gathered that they were about to have a visit from some VIPs from the Admiralty.
They were talking about intelligence they’d gathered about the communications methods that the U-boats had been using.
‘No one believes that they’re using underwater smoke signals to communicate, but we still don’t know how they are managing to liaise with command. There’s a view that there’s a powerful radio transmitter which is able to communicate, depending on the depth of the U-boat.’
‘That’s not been corroborated,’ said another officer.
Betty frowned. That wasn’t right. She was sure she’d seen something in a transcript from a telegrapher who’d been on one of the recently captured U-boats. She raised a hand, not sure of the protocol. ‘Excuse me.’
All eyes turned her way and she froze. Maybe she should have waited until after the meeting.
‘There w-was a… er… um… a transcript.’ She stopped but they were all listening with intent expressions. ‘A telegrapher, N3241, in his cell talking to N2531 about being able to send radio transmissions on frequencies between 15 to 25 kHz.’ She had absolutely no idea what ‘kHz’ meant but she knew exactly what she’d read. ‘It was an extract from an SR report, number 4145.’
Major Wendermeyer smiled at her across the table as one of the Wrens at the top of the table began shuffling through files. There was a silence as everyone waited.
‘Here you go, Sir,’ said the Wren, handing a sheet of typewritten paper over to the Flight-Lieutenant. ‘SR report 4145.’
She watched him as his eyes scanned the paper and then lifted to look sharply across the table. ‘Thank you, Sergeant Connors. You are indeed correct. Excellent work.’
Although she didn’t contribute for the rest of the meeting she knew that she’d deserved her place at the table and when they filed out of the room, Major Wendermeyer followed her. ‘Well done, Connors.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’ She grinned at him, feeling ten feet tall.
It was funny, everyone suddenly seemed to be able to see her in the office that afternoon. People she’d never spoken to before stopped and exchanged a word or two with her. She learned the names of people that she’d been nervous of approaching before. At the end of the day when she trooped off to the Sergeants’ Mess for dinner, she felt she’d moved forward somehow. People respected her and thought her opinions were worth something. She grinned to herself. Her dad would have been so proud of her.
When she stepped out onto the balcony later that evening into the warm, almost balmy air, she found Evelyn deep in thought, smoking.
‘Hello, how was your day?’ she asked. ‘And where’s Judith?’
‘Judith,’ Evelyn raised one elegant eyebrow, ‘has gone for a walk with Walther.’
‘Has she now?’ Betty beamed at her, still buoyed up with good humour.
‘Mm, with shining eyes and big smiles.’
‘Ahh, that’s nice. I don’t think she’s had an easy life.’
‘I’m sure of it. If what I saw in Germany was anything to go by.’
Betty frowned. ‘What was it like?’
‘Oppressive. Like there was a big bonfire built, all ready to go, and at any second a match could be tossed in. When I was there, everyone was on edge, always watching what they said, and the way they treated the Jews was shocking. The Nazi party strutted about and they would pick fights deliberately with anyone they knew was Jewish. It didn’t matter if they were old or young, but it was particularly distressing when they knocked over the older ladies. Then they would kick anyone that dared to go to their aid. I can’t imagine what Judith has been through. So I’m glad that she’s finding happiness. And what about you?’
�
��I’m fine,’ said Betty, unconsciously lifting her chin with new-found pride. ‘I had a great day. Major Wendermeyer invited me to an important meeting. And I did all right. I even spoke. He said my memory is incredible.’ She smiled to herself, recalling their conversation and the husky timbre of his voice giving her a little shiver. ‘I’m really enjoying the work I do here. How about you?’
Evelyn took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled with a long stream of smoke. ‘It was an interesting day.’ Her mouth tightened and she looked out across the valley.
Betty winced. ‘And you can’t tell me, can you?’
Uncharacteristic tears glistened in Evelyn’s eyes as she said, ‘No.’ Betty saw the tendons in her neck tighten and knew it cost the other girl to hang onto her emotions.
‘I know it’s all hush-hush, but if there’s anything I can do…’ She didn’t dare give Evelyn a hug, she was scared it might break the brittle fragility of Evelyn’s tight control.
‘Tell me about the dishy Major Wendermeyer.’ Evelyn’s attempt at a smile was quite pitiful but Betty knew a request for a change of subject when she heard it.
‘Who said he was dishy?’ she asked, deliberately coy, to entertain her roommate.
‘You did.’
‘I did not.’ Evelyn’s superior smile, with a hint of amusement, made Betty laugh, realising that she’d given herself away. ‘All right, I admit, he is a dish. But I can look, can’t I?’
‘You certainly can, darling.’ She turned away, tossing her cigarette onto the floor and muttered under her breath, ‘Sometimes a look is all you get.
‘Now while I remember, do you know what your shift pattern is this week?’
‘I’m on a late on Wednesday, if that’s any good.’
‘Excellent. Do you want to come to Henley with me?’
‘I’d love to,’ said Betty. It would give her a good reason not to go to her mother’s and to avoid Bert for a bit longer.
‘Let’s see if we can peel Judith away from the wunderbar Walther and get her to come too,’ she said as the two of them climbed back through the window into their room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evelyn
Evelyn rose extra early that morning and scurried to the bathroom before the other two woke up, like a thief sneaking out before the dawn. She’d washed her shoulder-length hair yesterday evening and set it in soft rollers overnight wrapped in a silk headscarf. Grateful that Lord Chesham had seen fit to look after his servants well, she ran an inch of water into the bath, astonished to find the temperature lukewarm and for once quite bearable. Daddy had spent a fortune on a boiler system at Quartiles and she’d become rather used to bathing in hot water. She mocked herself. You’re too used to the good things in life, my girl, but even so she wasn’t going to give up all her luxuries. From her toilet bag, she took out the carefully hoarded bar of Roger et Gallet, Violette de Parme soap that these days only came out for special occasions. Another treat from her mother’s final Parisian trip.
Taking a moment, she sniffed the bar, inhaling the sweet scent, which brought back a flood of memories cascading through her brain, memories that she neither had the time nor the inclination to sift through. Today, she had a job to do. With an impatient huff, she washed herself as quickly and efficiently as she could. Already her hands held a slight tremor at the thought of the day ahead as she brushed her teeth with the Pepsodent toothpaste which promised whiter teeth.
When she returned to the bedroom, Betty and Judith were both up and the three of them undertook the usual chaotic and apologetic weave in and out and around each other to retrieve their uniforms from the wardrobe, button on their collars, pull on their hideous passion-killers (as the regulation stockings were known), and do their hair. She noted that Judith had taken to styling her hair in rolls on either side of her head under Betty’s bossy supervision. It was the usual haphazard choreography of arms, elbows, legs and knees which they accomplished with good-natured smiles and yawns each morning. Evelyn was surprised to realise that she enjoyed sharing the space with them.
Shaking out her Navy uniform, she gave it a thorough brush to remove every last speck of lint and dust, glad that she’d polished the brass buttons recently, and then dabbed a tiny bit of perfume on her pulse points. Was it a little vain to be grateful that she joined the Navy and had the benefit of the smart dark blue rather than the drab brown-green of the ATS, which wouldn’t have done her complexion any good at all?
‘Going somewhere special?’ teased Betty, as she pulled on a fresh white shirt, fastened a new, stiff collar and knotted her tie. To Evelyn’s horror, she blushed furiously.
‘You got your eye on someone, have you?’
‘No, not at all,’ she said crisply and busied herself fussing with her hair while over her shoulder, in the reflection, Betty shot her a knowing grin.
Judith pursed her lips. ‘Betty, that’s not kind. Leave her alone. It is nothing to do with you.’
‘I know,’ said Betty gaily, not taking the least offence. She was a regular sunshine girl and seemed to have recovered from her contretemps the previous week, although every now and then Evelyn saw the shadows in her eyes.
‘But,’ continued Betty, ‘isn’t it nice to make a bit of effort every now and then? Makes you feel better.’
Evelyn saw Judith visibly relax and smiled to herself when the other woman, relenting, replied, ‘Yes, you are right. Thank you for helping me the other day. It was wonderful to feel like a normal woman again.’
As if there’d been a change in the air, like low pressure before a storm, they paused and looked at each other, a shared moment of sudden recognition that they no longer knew what normal was anymore. The stray bomb had been a salutary reminder that in wartime, nowhere was safe. Now whenever a plane flew overheard, people would stiffen, pause and only relax when the sound of its engine died away. Amongst all personnel, a new wariness had replaced the previous sanguine attitude.
‘This war seems to have gone on for ever,’ said Evelyn, giving in to unusual pessimism. There was no end in sight and today’s interrogation put the seal on how topsy-turvy life had become.
‘But if it wasn’t for the war, we three wouldn’t be here and I, for one, am glad to have met you both,’ said Betty, slicking on her favourite red lipstick and patting her perfect curls. She always looked like the cat’s meow and Evelyn envied her happy-go-lucky nature, which seemed to have reasserted itself even though she clearly had her problems at home.
And now she had to face her own. Giving her skirt one last skim with the clothes brush, she turned. ‘See you later, ladies. Have a good day.’ She gave them a jaunty mock salute, hiding the jitters in her stomach, and headed down the stairs to the Officers’ Mess for breakfast before finally acknowledging that she really wasn’t hungry. She’d grab herself a coffee and take it out on the terrace. The last thing she wanted this morning was the company of others.
The bright sun in an almost clear blue sky heralded the most glorious day and as she balanced on the balustrade drinking her coffee, her mind wandered, thinking of the prisoners in their cells. It must be awful to be cooped up when the weather was like this. She remembered glorious summer walks along the Neckar River, hand in hand with Peter, laughing at the ridiculous antics of the ducks in the water, the daredevil squirrels with perky tails racing along tree branches, and the sunshine on his tanned skin and blond hair. One of Hitler’s perfect Aryan specimens. What was she going to find today, the enemy or her former fiancé?
‘Coming to briefing?’ called Freddie through the open window.
She nodded and checked the time. There were still a few more minutes for her to enjoy the peace and keep her nerves to herself.
Finishing her coffee, she straightened, pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She had a job to do. She had to push personal feelings aside when she saw Peter. He was a potential source of information, which might just help finish this blasted war. No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, she s
till felt uncomfortable about having to interrogate him and guilty that she hadn’t told Colonel Myers that she knew him.
For a moment she stopped and wondered if Naval Intelligence were already aware. Were they playing a game of double bluff? Her head started to hurt, wondering about who knew what. She just had to do what she thought was the right thing, and with that in mind, she hurried into the library to take her place at the long table.
As they were leaving the meeting, she had a sudden idea and she ran after Myers, who was heading up the stairs to his private office.
‘Excuse me, Sir.’
‘Yes, Lieutenant Brooke-Edwards?’
‘Er … I wonder, what is the protocol for taking prisoners outside for a walk?’ She knew that it had been done a number of times with a couple of the Generals that had arrived after being captured recently in North Africa.
Myers smiled. ‘Perfect day to introduce the English countryside. Excellent idea. Be all right on your own?’
‘I think so, Sir.’
‘Of course, if the prisoner isn’t keen then bring him straight back, but most of them respond well. Think that we trust them and almost feel beholden to give something back. Human psychology really is most fascinating.’
She could see that he was about to launch into considerable rumination about intelligence tactics and, now that she had his go-ahead, she wanted to be off as quickly as possible.
‘Can you hold fire for a moment, Sergeant Lewis? I’ve got permission from Myers to take my prisoner for a walk this morning.’
Lewis scowled. An Army stickler for the rules, he was one of those soldiers that had no idea what really went on here at Latimer House. Like many of the non-commissioned men, he was responsible for guarding the prisoners and managing their day-to-day imprisonment. Being allowed to go for walks, he believed, was treating the Huns far too kindly.
The wait exacerbated her jumpiness but at last the paperwork arrived. Lewis scanned it with an even deeper scowl and despatched two guards to collect M1392 from his cell.