by Mary Wood
‘Hmm, I’d like to see her. Turing and Welchman are already beginning to murmur that we will have to break ranks at some point and recruit from the lower classes. We are very short-handed and are running out of what have always been considered “suitable people” to draw new candidates from. Problem is, we simply don’t have the budget to employ the number of hands we need. It’s my guess that Welchman, in particular, will eventually cause a ruction and force the government’s hand. If your girl fits in and does a good job, she will prove that there is a bigger pool for us to fish in. Approach her, and I will put a panel together. We’ll interview her, but no promises.’
‘Thank you, sir. I was introduced to her in person last weekend. My fiancée and I went to stay with my friend and he invited her to dinner. I liked her very much. I took note of her good points, and they were many. I also found out as much about her as I could, by asking questions without being impolite. You know the kind of thing: what her interests are, does she have a boyfriend, what does she think of the war? I wanted to get a true picture of her. She came up trumps in everything. And she astounded me by solving the very difficult equation I set her. She knows that I am recommending her, but not what for, of course, and yet she is very keen to join us. I asked her to solve the equation to satisfy myself of her ability and, as I think my friend is more than taken with her, to make sure his judgement isn’t clouded by his feelings for her.’ Simon sighed; always he needed to draw the scent away from what having a male friend might conjure up in others’ minds. ‘Anyway, she amazed me. She came up with the right answer in just a few minutes. A very clever and nice, level-headed young woman.’
‘In that case, we’ll do this quicker than usual. Come and see me tomorrow. I’ll sort out a date to interview her and you can telephone your friend to arrange it. I’ll have the train passes ready, so that you can send them to . . . What’s her name, by the way?’
‘Florence Kilgallon, sir.’
‘Irish? Southern or northern?’
‘Neither. Her parents were from Ireland, but she wasn’t sure from which part and displayed no allegiance to the country whatsoever.’
‘We’ll have to make sure on that. The southerners are not with us in this war, as you know.’
‘Right-o, sir, but I don’t think there will be a problem. She can’t even remember her parents, and is a northern girl through and through.’
‘Well, let’s get the ball rolling and we will see.’
‘Thank you, sir. Now I beg your pardon, but I really would like to get back to my office. Would you excuse me? I’ll just get a sandwich from the mess to take back with me.’
‘Yes, of course. Do you think you will crack this one? It is vital, you know. They are using this code more and more, of late. Very important that we get a tag on it.’
‘Will do, sir. I’m nearly there, as it is. A bit of burning the midnight oil should do it.’ Stubbing out his cigarette, Simon stood, saluted and made his way to the bar. Upset with himself for doing so, he bought a packet of Senior Service cigarettes. He really had intended to stick to his resolve to give up.
Perry stood near the door. Trepidation clutched at Simon’s stomach muscles as he walked towards him. On reaching the exit, Perry moved forward, barring his path. ‘Been talking about things you shouldn’t, I hear, Fulworth. Well, I’d be careful if I was you. Walls have ears, they say. And if my little bit of fun with Kitty gets out, trouble will come looking for you. Trouble with a capital T.’
‘Get out of my way, Perry. I’m not afraid of you. If you want to mess with that whore, it’s your business; but if she continues to snipe at me, then you had better warn her, because I will put her on report, and your sordid dealings with her will likely come to light.’
‘You disgusting faggot! I’m watching you. One whiff of you getting it off with another man and you’ll find yourself in prison. And good riddance.’
His trepidation turned to sick fear. Pushing past Perry, Simon just made it outside before he vomited in the bushes. The retching caused the pain in his back to reignite and made him unsteady on his legs. When he got back to his office, he remembered he hadn’t bought a sandwich. Not that he could have eaten it now. God, how did things get as bad as this?
His colleagues had been fine with him until recently and he’d always had their respect. Now he was the subject of snide remarks, sniggering name-calling and subtle bullying. What had changed? He knew the answer: Kitty Hamlin.
Kitty came from a family in Essex who weren’t born into moneyed society, but had made their way by means of her father becoming a rich industrialist. A trained tailor, he’d started a small factory turning out mass-produced clothing for men. The last war had done him a huge favour and his business had mushroomed, as he’d secured the contract for supplying the forces with uniforms. Kitty had attended a private school and turned out to be university material, though somehow the rough edges of her parents’ beginnings had never been smoothed out. She was a nasty piece of work, and had swiftly made up her mind about Simon and made no bones about letting her conclusion be known. Before she came into his life, everyone had accepted his story of having a girlfriend, and that had been that. Now they questioned its validity. What was it with Kitty? Why was she so bothered by him? How he wished Roland was here. To be able to hold him and be held by him.
Loneliness threatened to suffocate Simon. But shaking off the feeling, he set about tackling the code once more and soon lost himself in the fascination of the equations he needed to solve, and in the thought that coming up with a formula would provide information that might be instrumental in saving many lives.
It had turned midnight before that happened and he was able to pass on his solution to the main office. He hoped, with all his heart, that the formula would enable the deciphering of the latest batch of intercepted messages.
As he rode his bicycle through the gates of Bletchley Park, dampness cloyed at Simon and chilled his body. The recent warm weather had given way to heavy night-dews. Pulling up the collar of his trench coat gave a little comfort.
Billeted with a local woman who lived about fifteen minutes’ ride away, Simon relished the exercise that the journey gave him and looked on this time as a chance to unwind. But tonight the usual sounds – a hooting owl, the flap of a swooping bat, the scream of a small animal as it became a meal for a larger predator, and the wind swishing through the branches – gave a sinister feel to the air.
A rustle behind the hedge, which he couldn’t put down to night-creatures, set his heart drumming in his ears. The words ‘Right, it’s him. Get him!’ hardly registered, before three figures jumped out in front of him. His attempt to swerve around them caused him to lose his balance. His body hit the ground, and the bike landed on top of him. Hands grabbed at the frame, jarring Simon’s trapped ankle. A cry of pain escaped him, but was obliterated by fear as a shadow that he could only attribute to a giant bent over him. Sour, alcohol-fuelled breath wafted into his open mouth, making him retch. The man’s fist crashed into his face, disorientating him. What’s happening? He tried to call out, but blood filled his mouth and something hard caught in his throat. Choking, he spat out the offending object just as a vicious kick sank into his groin, taking him into a sickening cascade of pain.
‘Give it to him – go on, you said you would!’
Through the wave upon wave of searing agony that gripped his groin and zinged through his body, the realization came to him that they were pulling his trousers down. Unable to struggle, he prayed: Please God, no. Please don’t let this happen.
A shout drowned out his pitiful plea. ‘Oi, what’s going on there?’
His attackers disappeared. Torchlight illuminated him. Shame smothered him. Oh God, let me die!
The voice of the torch-bearer held disgust. ‘Good God! What’s all this then? Men, doing this to you? Were you willing?’
He couldn’t answer. How could anyone think him party to what had just happened?
When the light left his f
ace, he could make out the uniform of the man and saw it was a policeman.
‘Right, I think some questions will have to be answered. This isn’t a good position to be found in. You’re under arrest . . .’
‘No, Officer, please! Th-those men, th-they jumped me. They kicked me and then sought to humiliate me.’
The pain from the kick began to subside, but the humiliation was just as hard to bear.
Without touching him, or offering a word of comfort, the policeman said, ‘Get up and make yourself decent, man.’ The tone of his voice still spoke of his distaste. ‘I saw the others running off. Did you know them?’
Simon’s body trembled all over with the effort it took to stand. As he bent to pull up his trousers, his stomach rolled over. Dashing to the verge, he vomited on the grass. This involuntary action deepened his shame.
‘You’re in uniform! Bloody disgrace.’
Simon cringed. But what the officer said next gladdened him. ‘How dare they attack one of our serving officers? I’m sorry for my initial assumption, sir, but if you could see your way to coming to the police station, I would like to take a statement. Then I and my men will do our utmost to find out who they were.’
‘Thank you, Officer. Thank you. But I’ve had a very long day. What they did to me has left me in a lot of pain. I need to get home. All I can tell you is that I think they were local. Farmers, or something like that. They smelt as if they had been putting in a hard day’s labour and had then drowned it in beer. And they spoke with a local accent. I can think of no reason why they should attack me.’
‘Right-o. I’ve an idea who it might be, from what you say. There aren’t many young men left around here after the call-up, but farmers are exempt and I know three farm labourers who would fit the bill. But call in at the station tomorrow. If you remember anything in the meantime, jot it down. Now, let me just take your name and where you are staying.’
Wanting to get away and disappear into his own misery, this was an irritation to Simon, but he obliged. It did hearten him that the officer’s whole attitude seemed to have changed.
‘Now, sir, will you be all right getting home on your bike?’
Simon felt as if he would never be able to ride a bike again, but he so wanted to be alone. ‘I’ll make my way back into the Park and rouse one of the drivers. They’ll take me home. I’ll be fine, thank you.’
Wary of every little noise coming from the trees that lined his way, Simon somehow made it back inside Bletchley Park.
With familiar buildings around him, he felt safe again, but couldn’t contain his emotions. Sitting on the grass outside the front of Bletchley House, he felt tentatively inside his mouth. A gap that wasn’t there previously told him that one of his front teeth had gone. Being proud of his smile, this devastated him. He pulled up his knees, leaned on them and rested his head. Huge sobs racked his body. As these subsided, he thought again of Roland, and longing coursed through him to be with him up in the North, in his hideous house, and to be loved and comforted by him. This thought led to Flo coming into his mind. Somehow he felt he had a friend in her. He hoped with all his heart that she would pass the interview. Life wouldn’t be so lonely with the jolly Flo by his side.
7
Molly
Life Changes
Molly stood on the corner of Sebastopol Road and Osman Road waiting anxiously for David’s car to appear. The morning had a cold feel to it. Rain threatened, but she didn’t care. She was rejoicing because the overnight bombings had missed her street for three nights in a row now. But she was mindful of those who might have suffered elsewhere in London. Each day brought news of horrific losses, but also of tremendous courage.
She just needed to know if David was safe. Every morning, since a couple of days after the time she’d ventured to his house, the handyman he’d employed had driven him this way so that he could reassure her.
Five weeks had passed since that fateful night that had brought them together. Now her life centred around the times she could meet up with him. David had filled part of her with a happiness that somehow made life bearable.
Though his leg was still encased in plaster, the rest of his injuries had healed. Not those inside him, though, and that was the same for her. The trauma they’d experienced and the loss of Hettie would take a long time to heal, if ever.
They spent what time they could together. But every second was fraught with fear, for Molly.
She longed to tell David what was going on at her home, and what she had been forced to be a party to. But she daren’t. She knew that David, being a lawyer, would take action against what was happening, and she needed to protect him.
‘Say a word to anyone about our involvement, or what goes on here, and you’re dead meat, Missy – and that goes for whoever you tell.’
Remembering those words from Eva sent a shiver through Molly. But the real fear had been planted by Gus. He’d come into the kitchen, where she had been preparing supper, and had tried to maul her. He’d picked up the knife she’d been chopping onions with and held it at her throat. ‘One day, my girl.’ He’d lowered the knife and pressed it into her breasts. ‘Like these, don’t you? Well, I’d slice them off in an instant and eat them for me tea. You just make one bad move. Just one.’ She’d pushed him away, telling him that she’d scream if he touched her again. He’d slinked off back into the parlour, and Molly had known he’d been afraid of Eva finding out what he was up to.
Molly didn’t know why Eva was protective of her in this way, but realized from her attitude that there was a hidden reason, and this frightened her almost as much as Gus’s persistence. When Molly thought of how Eva constantly threatened to put her on the game, the mystery deepened. If that is what she had in mind, then you would think she wouldn’t care what Gus did.
At least Molly had her dad to help her, as whenever the subject came up and he was around, he’d not allow any such talk. She could see, though, that her dad was getting more and more afraid of Eva, Gus and Lofty. He did their bidding now, no matter what. How soon before he gave in and sold her to them?
Molly’s life had changed drastically and she missed going out to work, but had decided not to go away to do war work. She wanted to stay near David.
Feeling more anxious as time went on, she looked in the direction that David would come from, but he still wasn’t in sight. She thanked God every day for David coming into her life. He’d kept her sane and helped her experience a happiness that overshadowed everything.
Though she had to admit that the happiness she harboured inside her was mixed with a nightly dose of terror, as the sirens droned their warning. People would scramble for shelter. Crashing, ear-splitting explosions would begin. And it would seem that surely this time the world would end. This time one bomb would have her name on it and would take her into oblivion – or, worse, take David from her.
Though times were hard, a feeling of hope mingled with that of hopelessness among the people. It was a strange mixture, but a fair description, as it seemed that there was never going to be an end to the bombardment, and yet the terrifying experience had brought out the best in all the folk of London. Molly found that she no longer walked along the streets outside her immediate neighbourhood with her eyes forward, passing but not seeing anyone she encountered. Now those in the next street and further afield were no longer strangers, and she hoped each time she walked towards their houses that they were all right.
At last David came in sight. His smiling face, as he lowered the window when he came alongside her, lifted her heart. Bending her head into the window at the back where he sat, she gave him a light kiss.
When she looked into his face she saw that his smile was fixed. ‘What is it? Has anything happened?’
David opened the car door. ‘Get in, Molly. We have to talk.’
Her heart lurched.
Once she was settled next to him, he pulled her to him. Ignoring the cold and unwelcoming feel of the dark-green leather seats of his W
olseley, she snuggled into his warm body.
‘Drive around the park, please, Wilson.’ The old man obeyed without a word.
‘David, what is it? You look so pensive.’
‘I’ve been called up.’
‘B-but why? I mean, you haven’t been called up before, and yet you are of the right age.’
‘My work had an exemption to it. But now more fighting men are needed and there are women lawyers who can take our place. I knew a week ago, but didn’t like to say anything until I knew it was final. I went for a medical and, as my leg is healing well, it hasn’t barred me. I’m to report for another medical in six weeks. I’ve decided to opt for pilot training.’
‘Oh no, David, I can’t bear it.’
His arms pulled her closer. ‘Darling, I want you to know that I love you. I know I have said so many times before, but now I want to do something about our love. I just don’t know if we can, because of the differences in our faiths. I wanted to give you time before I discussed our future. But we don’t have time now. And so I need to find a way to resolve our differences. I want us to be married.’
The strength of the happiness that assailed her was something she’d never experienced in her life. It took away all the fear, pain and loneliness that had been her lot. And it filled her with courage. ‘I love you, too, David. And I will do whatever I have to, to be worthy to become your wife.’
‘Not “worthy” – don’t say that. You are the worthiest woman in the world. It is I who am going to denounce my faith for you. Not the other way round.’
‘No, you mustn’t. It means so much to you. I am a believer, and so are you. But I don’t practise my religion, and you do. I will convert to Judaism and will be proud to.’
His lips sought hers. The pressure of the kiss was gentle and sweet at first, but gradually it deepened and awoke in her a passion that shocked her.
‘Come to my house with me, my darling.’
‘I can’t, David. I have to get back; my dad will be up soon.’
His look held disappointment, and she knew that her response to his words had given him false hope. Until now she had been the one to try and keep their feelings from going too far.