The Secrets of Latimer House

by Jules Wake

  ‘Hope he doesn’t try to escape, ma’am.’ His mouth turned even further down in his lugubrious face that reminded her of a doleful basset hound. Not helpful, Lewis, she thought and she hadn’t missed subtle insolence in his emphasis of the word ‘ma’am’.

  Narrowing her eyes, she replied, ‘I’m sure he’s not going to run off into the English countryside in a German army uniform without a clue where he is or anything on him. It would be rather foolhardy – don’t you think? – to expect to get very far.’ Her voice rapped, staccato and sharp. ‘No money. No map. A strong German accent,’ she checked herself, ‘if he even speaks English.’ Which she wasn’t supposed to know. There she went, almost slipping up before she’d started. She’d have been a hopeless double agent.

  ‘Hmph,’ he replied and returned to the paperwork on his desk, disapproval radiating from his hunched shoulders.

  Suddenly it occurred to her that Peter might blurt out her name when he saw her and Lewis would seize on that for certain. The man didn’t like female officers and he wouldn’t have a moment’s hesitation if there was an opportunity to cause trouble.

  ‘I’ll wait in interview room two. You can bring the prisoner there.’

  ‘Right you are, ma’am.’ She pursed her lips but ignored him and walked briskly away. Once inside she couldn’t decide whether to sit or stand. Her hands really were shaking now and it wouldn’t do for Peter to see that; she had the element of surprise on her side and she needed to maximise it to her advantage. Concentrate on the job, Evelyn.

  The door opened and her heart dropped with a sudden rush.

  ‘The prisoner, Lieutenant,’ said one of the guards, ushering Peter into the room.

  She watched his face closely, even though she’d promised herself she’d be professional, but it was hopeless. She couldn’t help quickly inventorying every familiar detail. Grey-blue eyes, the colour of a stormy sea, thickly fringed with those surprisingly dark lashes. Sandy blonde hair swept back from the forehead, which he frequently pushed his fingers through when he was exasperated by something. That square-cut chin that spoke of his strong character and his determination to get a job completed. They were so alike in that respect. Then there was the wide, generous mouth that she knew to be soft to the touch and quick to smile. She might not have seen him for four years but all the feelings she had for him rushed in to refill the Peter-shaped space she’d kept open for him, as if he’d never been away.

  ‘Guten Morgen, Oberstleutnant Van Hoensbroeck.’

  He gave her an idle glance as if determined to be uninterested. It took a few seconds for the stoic, resigned expression on his face to register her. If it wasn’t so heart-breaking, the mix of emotions might have been amusing: consternation, surprise, alarm, horror, longing and finally disbelief.

  ‘Evelyn?’ He looked around behind him as if wondering what was going on.

  ‘Hello, Peter.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He reached a hand out as if to touch her and then quickly dropped his arm by his side before saying, ‘Is this a trick?’

  ‘No.’ She drew in a shaky breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the nerves in her voice. ‘I’m a Naval Intelligence Officer. It’s my job to interrogate you.’ The words sounded utterly ridiculous. She wanted to snatch them back. This job should have been given to someone else. She couldn’t stop herself drinking in the sight of him. Her hand, buried in the fold of her skirt, trembled as she fought the longing to touch him.

  ‘This is a joke? Why would you be here?’

  She’d hoped he’d be pleased to see her. Composing herself, she replied in a flat monotone voice, ‘I speak fluent German. It’s a highly valued skill these days.’

  She watched as he absorbed the information, the suspicious frown lines gradually relaxing as he took in her appearance. ‘I’m sure it must be.’

  This meeting held none of the joyous homecoming she’d hoped for and she had to swallow down the sadness that threatened to choke her.

  ‘Would you like to come for a walk?’ The words sounded hopelessly inadequate. It appeared she had surprised him but then he stiffened and gave the room a careful inspection as if suspecting the place was bugged.

  She shook her head, warily watching him. ‘I promise you no one is listening. No one knows that we’ve met before.’

  There was a long pause as the words fell between them like pebbles trickling away into a chasm.

  ‘Met before?’ He raised a stern eyebrow and gave her a piercing look, his eyes insolently scanning her lips as if to remind her of the intimacy of those previous meetings.

  She coloured with a sudden rush of illicit warmth. No one had ever kissed her like Peter. Those heated kisses had trespassed on the boundaries of propriety but she’d excused herself with the knowledge that they were engaged to be married. She still wore his ring on a chain around her neck.

  ‘No one is aware that we know each other.’ How she managed to say it without stuttering, she wasn’t sure, although behind her back her hands were interlocked, squeezing the circulation from her fingers.

  This time he shot her a teasing smirk, as if to say, ‘That’s better!’

  ‘A walk would be good,’ he said. He looked at her and his face softened very slightly and he smiled, as if remembering the many miles they’d spent side by side. It had been their way of spending time together, hours tramping and hiking mountain, river and lakeside trails.

  Her heart lifted. Perhaps outside he might relax and this awful atmosphere might dissipate.

  ‘Follow me.’ She led him out of the room, down the corridor and past Lewis’s brooding glare.

  ‘Pay no attention to him,’ she said in German. ‘He’s miserable with everyone.’

  ‘It’s not me I’m worried about. You don’t seem very popular with him.’

  ‘He doesn’t hold with female officers.’

  ‘I didn’t think I did, but you do look rather fetching in uniform.’ There was no hint of a compliment in his words, more of an accompanying smirk that spoke of disapproval.

  She ignored that comment and marched up to the guards at the gate, presenting her pass and the paperwork Myers had sent down. After careful scrutiny they were allowed through the gate.

  ‘Is this how you treat all your prisoners?’ asked Peter with yet another one of his superior smirks. ‘Sending them out for walks with attractive British girls?’

  ‘No,’ she replied tersely, annoyed by his attitude. It wasn’t a side of him she’d seen before and she found it unnerving. ‘Only our most special guests. You’re a senior officer of the Wehrmacht and as such privy to information we would be interested in.’ From here on in, she resolved to be nothing but professional. Whatever had been between them was clearly now one sided.

  ‘We?’ asked Peter with a slow smile.

  Irked, she did her best not to show it and for a moment pondered her strategy: outright honesty or play along with his view that she was dressed up in uniform for larks?

  Had he always been this arrogant? It wasn’t the Peter she remembered.

  ‘I am a Naval Intelligence Officer,’ she reiterated. ‘It’s my job to interrogate you.’

  ‘And are you going to?’

  ‘I’ll certainly ask questions. You’re under no obligation to answer them but life is easier if you cooperate.’

  ‘Or what? Will you be the one to torture me? That will be interesting.’

  Exasperated, she stopped and turned to him. ‘Or you can go back to your cell and someone else can talk to you.’

  He let out a mock gasp. ‘You mean you don’t want to take a walk with me? Whatever happened to you promising that you would wear my ring for ever and wait for the end of the war?’

  She could hardly bear the disappointment. Peter was not the man she’d thought he was. While she’d continued to love and pine for him, he clearly no longer had any feelings for her. Bitterly, she wrenched the necklace out from under her shirt and dangled the chain from finger and thumb. She’d embarrassed herse
lf. Let her emotions get the better of her. Even worse, she’d given him the upper hand. Sick and angry with herself, she began to tuck the necklace back under her collar, but Peter’s hand stopped her.

  When she looked up into his face, the expression in his eyes stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘Liebling,’ he whispered, his forefinger running across hers. The soft touch set light to her skin and she froze. Motionless, they stood staring at each other and she saw a mix of emotions cross his face before finally he frowned.

  ‘Forgive me. I’m so sorry.’ He stepped back and pushed both his hands through his hair.

  For a moment they faced each other, studying each other’s features as if only now were they seeing each other properly. At last, Peter gave her a sad smile.

  ‘This war.’ He shook his head. ‘I never thought I’d see you again. I’ve tried to put you out of my mind. And then here you are and I’m…’ He shook his head. ‘The war has hardened me. Made me forget. Seeing you today, it’s humiliating. I’m the defeated prisoner, not the man you knew.’

  The smile she shared with him was wary, like an animal that wasn’t sure if it might yet be kicked.

  ‘I apologise. I didn’t want to be like that in front of you and you seem so confident, so sure of yourself. I thought the woman I loved had gone. I thought it was a trick and that you were toying with me.’

  ‘No trick. I’m not a believer in fate, or God, or anything like that. You being here is an accident, a coincidence. I never thought I’d see you again either. I didn’t know what had happened to you. The nights I’ve stayed awake imagining where you might be. Whether you were in the army, the navy or the air force. Whether you might have been shot down, sunk or died in a trench somewhere.’

  ‘Yet you wore my ring.’

  She shrugged, not wanting to appear weak in front of him. ‘One always has to have hope.’

  ‘In a sane world, yes, but war takes us into madness.’

  ‘Only if you are led by a madman.’

  He gave her a sharp look. ‘You mean the Führer?’

  She lifted her shoulders again.

  ‘Is this part of your interrogation?’

  ‘Partly, yes,’ she said because she couldn’t deny it, ‘but also to know you. Do you think he is leading your country in the right way? Do you support him? Do you think Germany will win the war?’

  ‘So many questions.’ Peter sighed and they began walking again. ‘And once I was so sure of all the answers. Now I’m not so certain. Your Colonel took us into London.’

  Evelyn bit back a smile. ‘I was there.’

  Peter closed his eyes. ‘Of course you were. The silent, oh-so-correct, lady driver. Do you know,’ he let out a bitter laugh, ‘I remember thinking that your uncle had a Bentley just like that one.’

  She shot him a grimace of apology.

  ‘So you heard every word we said?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Well then, you know some of my views.’

  ‘I’d be interested to hear more. Partly for my superiors, but I think personally to find out if we are truly enemies.’

  Peter pursed his lips and stared ahead for a long moment.

  ‘I have no love for Hitler, but I do for my country. When he began, taking the Sudetenland, it appeared decisive and strong. Like many, I believed he made our country one we could be proud of again, but now there are a lot of us that will seek to depose him as soon as the war is over, if not before. Being completely honest with you, and I have to trust you—’

  ‘Don’t trust me, Peter.’ She laid a hand on his arm as she blurted the words out. She gave him a stricken look and he held her gaze, his mouth firming a little.

  ‘If I can’t trust you, who can I trust?’

  She swallowed. ‘You can’t trust me. Not with the truth. We’re on the opposite side of the fence. It’s my duty to report anything I learn that could be useful to the Allies winning the war.’

  ‘And what about love?’ he asked with a cynical twist to his mouth.

  She closed her eyes, hating herself. Hating herself for being so honest, for not being able to lie to him. For not being able to tell him what he wanted to hear.

  Did duty come before love?

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, feeling broken inside. ‘I don’t know.’

  He walked ahead a few paces and with a sigh she followed him, trying to swallow back tears.

  They fell into step again in silence for a few moments and she had no idea what to say to him. She’d blown the first rule of interrogation: win the prisoner’s trust.

  To her surprise, Peter threaded his fingers through hers and began to talk in a low, vehement voice. The unspoken intimacy made her feel light-headed for a moment. She’d never dreamed that she’d see him, let alone might touch him again.

  ‘There is so much that is wrong. I love my country, the people, the places we have built. When I think of those summers in Heidelberg untainted by hate or violence, I can see that Germany has taken a misstep. There was a path in the road and we took the wrong fork. I hate the way that we can’t talk freely of opinions and beliefs anymore. I hate the way that so many people live in fear. Hitler’s SS have become notorious, without any sense of honour or morality. There have been things done in Germany’s name that have no legal basis and that I am not proud of. In fact, I am sickened by. There is too much power in the hands of one man.’

  Evelyn tightened her fingers on his. Grateful for his trust and relieved that his basic decency still existed.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

  ‘Don’t thank me. It’s a relief in some ways to talk to someone I trust. And yes, I do still trust you. Someone who knows the man I once was. Sometimes I fear we’ve all become monsters. I never in my life wanted to kill another man and then it became part of every day. At least now I’m free of that. In some ways I feel damaged, in another so inured to having to follow orders that I’ve become indifferent. I’ve sent my own men to their deaths. I’ve given orders to kill the enemy.’ He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Sometimes when I wake in the night I’m afraid my soul will never be my own again.’

  For as long as she would live, she would never forget the tortured pain in his eyes, and her voice cracked as she said, ‘Oh Peter.’

  The harsh chack, chack of a magpie startled both of them as it flew down to peck at something in the scrubby grassland between the trees, and in silence they continued their walk.

  ‘You do know that I have to report back on whatever you tell me,’ said Evelyn eventually.

  ‘I do. Don’t worry. My conscience will be clear.’ Peter smiled, the arrogance gone now. ‘And you do know that I will only tell you what I think you already know. We’ve been warned about the British interrogation. Did that room have a microphone?’

  ‘Actually, no, it didn’t.’ Not that particular one. ‘I thought you would appreciate a walk. We could have talked there quite freely.’ She tried not to feel guilty for the truth that covered up the bigger lie. She couldn’t reveal that his cell was a different matter entirely, nor could she ask him not to talk to his cellmate about her.

  ‘I could almost forget I’m a prisoner. I could almost forget that I haven’t seen you for four years. I could almost imagine that one day we could marry.’

  ‘You’re going to be a prisoner of war until the end of the war.’

  ‘Or until Germany invades Britain.’

  ‘Do you think that likely, still?’

  ‘Not anymore. I don’t think I have for a while and certainly not now. Not having seen London, like that, barely touched by bombs. Yet Dortmund, Duisberg and Wuppertal all suffered terribly last month. A firestorm destroyed much of Wuppertal. While here… This countryside. It looks undisturbed. You look so well and the food here is good. It feels as if Britain, the little island, is remote from the war, not suffering the way Germany is. Hitler tells us that you are ready to beg for mercy and that the next secret weapon will finish you off.’

&
nbsp; Evelyn knew she had to be cautious. There’d been much talk about secret weapons and it was a hot topic at the moment. She hesitated before she spoke, her conscience flickering between love and duty. There was so much at stake. So very much. She had to do her job. The lives of thousands of her countrymen depended upon it. Was it betraying him to console herself with the thought that at least Peter was safe now and would be for the rest of the war?

  ‘Ah, those would be the weapons that have been developed at Peenemünde. Not so secret.’ There, she’d said it. The interrogating officer following her script. Sickness churned in her stomach.

  ‘Mein Gott!’ He whirled around, horror-struck. ‘You know about them?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is there anything you don’t know? I can’t believe it. You should know that German High Command have high hopes that they can launch these weapons, although not from Germany, of course. I suppose you also know that the range is not as great as was initially promised.’

  ‘I understand there will be launch sites on the Dutch coast.’ Even as she said the words, she knew she was leading him into a trap, pretending to know more than she did, but it was for the greater good. It was vital to gather every piece of information available about these terrifying weapons. If the RAF could destroy them, it would save lives.

  He stared at her. ‘Those, and more along the Pas de Calais.’

  Another piece in the jigsaw. She nodded without blinking, storing the information away. He was giving it freely and she couldn’t afford, or allow herself, to feel guilty. This was her job. Her country. She wasn’t forcing him to speak. Was this wrong? Was she betraying his trust?

  ‘You are well informed. I think Hitler has underestimated British Intelligence.’

  Feeling a little sick at her duplicity, she changed the subject, asking after his family. She was sad to hear that his brother and father were fighting on the brutal Russian front and his mother had moved in with her sister to a rural area of Bavaria. Their lives had been turned upside down too.

  As they walked and talked, his hand occasionally brushed hers and they would look at each other. Evelyn had never felt so confused in her life. They were on opposite sides of the war. Her loyalties were divided and she had no idea how they could ever overcome that. She ought to have told Myers she knew Peter. What on earth was she going to do now?