Her Secret War

by Pam Lecky

  He bent down to kiss her cheek. At the same time, she lunged forward to hug him. They both ended up laughing and blushing furiously. ‘I’m so glad you could make it,’ he said, clearing his throat.

  ‘Did you doubt me?’ she asked.

  ‘Well … I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again. Sorry it took so long to get in touch. Come on; let’s go inside, it’s perishing out here,’ he said before she could answer.

  A young waitress showed them to a table.

  ‘I was thrilled to receive your letter,’ Sarah said as they settled down. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. It seems so long since I saw you last.’

  ‘I know, it’s hard to believe it was only three months ago. It’s all been a bit mad, hasn’t it? Well, it has for me. I only hope once my training is complete, we have some kind of permanent base. Though, it may not be in England. Still, time enough to worry about that.’ Paul grinned across at her, making her heart skip a beat. He reached across and took her hand. ‘You look well, Sarah. Have you recovered from your injuries?’

  ‘Yes. A little stiffness in my leg sometimes, but otherwise I’m fine. It was lucky I broke my left arm, not my right, otherwise I might not have been able to take up my new job. You need a steady hand to trace.’ She held out her left hand and wrinkled her nose. ‘See? It shakes a bit.’

  ‘That’s marvellous,’ he said. ‘I mean that you are ok and that you got the job. But seriously, Sarah, it was a bloomin’ miracle you survived at all. That day I went to the house and saw the state of it, I really feared you could not have survived.’

  ‘There isn’t a day I’m not thankful they found me and dug me out. It was a miracle they found me so quickly. I only realised that when I visited and saw the ruins for myself. I only wish …‍’

  ‘Yes, poor Maura. She didn’t deserve to meet such an untimely end. God rest her soul. You must miss her dreadfully.’

  ‘I do.’

  If only he knew. Missing Maura and loving him were the two constants in her life. Missing Maura was what made it possible to continue Northcott’s mission. Whenever she questioned the appropriateness of revenge as a motive for what she was undertaking, she would recall her sister’s last moments and how she had died, and the anger would flare up once more. It was always there in the background, bubbling away, driving her forward when the doubts threatened to overwhelm her.

  Sarah glanced out of the window and took a deep breath. ‘Let’s not talk about it, Paul, please. I’m just so glad to see you here. I was afraid you were so busy having adventures that you had forgotten all about me, and I had no way of contacting you.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. We can stay in touch now … but only if you want, of course.’

  ‘I’d like that very much, Paul,’ she said, suddenly shy. What is wrong with me? This is foolish; he would not be here if he didn’t care.

  The waitress appeared at the table and took their order.

  ‘I hadn’t realised how much I missed hearing a Dublin accent,’ Sarah said once the waitress had left.

  Paul hooted with laughter. ‘Lord, I’m constantly ribbed about it by the fellows at the camp. Sometimes they pretend they can’t understand me.’

  ‘Oh no, is it awful there? Do you hate it?’

  ‘No, no; it’s all part of the camaraderie. Don’t be concerned. I give as good as I get,’ he said with a smirk. ‘They are a good bunch of lads.’

  ‘You’re enjoying it all, then?’ she said, relieved.

  His face lit up. ‘I’ve never been happier, Sarah. I’m doing what I always wanted to do. The only fly in the ointment is my parents.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that – but you knew how it would be, especially with your father and his leanings.’

  Paul pulled a face. ‘Oh yes, I was prepared for a backlash, but not the extent of it. All my letters have been returned unopened. My Da, of course.’

  ‘How cruel of him. You are risking so much to fight for a cause you believe in. It might not be a cause he agrees with, but he must remember why he took up arms during the War of Independence. It’s simply a matter of good versus evil. That generation have short memories when it comes to some things.’

  ‘That’s it exactly. He can’t see beyond his hatred for the Brits. Can’t admit Hitler and his chums are a worse threat to our freedom.’

  ‘Your mother must be frantic,’ Sarah said. ‘Does he not consider her feelings?’

  ‘Of course not. Ma’s wishes have always been at the bottom of his list of priorities. She was upset at first, of course, but I’ve been able to write to her via my sister Deirdre, and vice versa. I send my letters to Deirdre’s workplace and she smuggles them home to Ma.’

  ‘That’s clever, but a pity you have to go to such lengths,’ Sarah remarked.

  ‘Yes, but hopefully Da won’t find out I have found a way around the problem.’

  ‘Families, huh?’ The waitress appeared with their order. Sarah waited for her to leave before saying: ‘Perhaps he will come round, eventually. He must see what you are doing is honourable.’

  Paul shrugged. ‘I doubt it. Too damn proud. I’ll never go back, Sarah. If I survive this war, I’m staying in England and making a life here.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘I’m thinking along those lines myself.’

  His eyes lit up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, why not? With Maura and Da gone, there’s no reason to go back to Dublin.’

  ‘I’m glad for you, Sarah. You’ve had a hard time of it,’ he said.

  ‘No more than others.’

  ‘Don’t you …‍’

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, don’t you think it’s much freer here? I think that’s what appeals to me most. I hadn’t realised how restrictive life was back home. The Church dictates everything.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t given it much thought. Maybe it’s the war; people here are determined to enjoy themselves whenever they can. They have realised how precious life and time really are. They’ve been to hell and back.’

  ‘And more importantly, they don’t feel guilty for enjoying themselves,’ Paul said. ‘Anyway, what have you been up to?’

  On receiving his letter, she had considered confiding in him, but had concluded it was safer for them all if he knew nothing about Northcott. She didn’t want Paul to worry about her. Besides, as much as she longed to talk to someone about it, there was very little Paul could do to help her. In a few hours, he would be back in Yorkshire, blissfully ignorant of the situation she found herself in.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she said: ‘Settling in, mostly. You know how challenging life could be with Da back in Dublin?’ He nodded. ‘Well, it’s the complete opposite here. The Lambes have welcomed me with a generosity that overwhelms me at times. I feel as though I belong. My only regret is that Maura isn’t here to share it.’

  ‘Of course.’ His eyes were full of sympathy. ‘And the work?’

  ‘I love it. I’m with a nice group; the girls are friendly. We usually go to the cinema once a week and there’s a fabulous library in Winchester. And you won’t believe it, but my cousin Martin persuaded me to join the local dramatic society.’

  ‘That’s lucky. I wouldn’t have thought such a small place would have anything like that.’

  ‘I know, but although the village is small, there are many displaced people working and living there at the moment. The local clubs and societies are thriving as a result.’

  ‘I have to admit I do miss the North Strand Players,’ Paul said with a wistful sigh. ‘Will you ever forget that dingy old hall and the hole in the stage floor?’

  ‘Gosh, no. That night Mary Wilson got her foot stuck and went flying!’

  ‘Poor girl! At least the audience thought it was part of the play.’ Paul chuckled. ‘We had some good laughs, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yes … and that’s where we met, so it will always hold a special place in my heart,’ Sarah said.

  Sarah could ha
ve sworn Paul flinched at her words, and he didn’t meet her eye. ‘How life has changed for all of us since then,’ he said. ‘Innocent days, really.’ When he finally looked up, his expression was neutral once more. ‘I hope you were given a good part. You never got a chance to shine with the plays we did back home.’

  ‘I’m afraid I was too late to audition, so I’m working backstage; but I’m enjoying it and meeting lots of new people.’

  ‘Sounds like you have landed on your feet. I am pleased for you; you deserve some happiness.’ He paused. ‘I suppose there are plenty of young lads where you are working, too?’

  ‘Yes. It’s a big place with many departments. Oh! I see. Are you asking if I am walking out with someone?’ she asked, with a tilt of her head. How on earth could she explain Rob? It felt disloyal, which was bizarre in the circumstances. But she had to be honest without giving away Northcott’s mission.

  Inwardly cringing, she said: ‘I am seeing someone, but it’s nothing serious.’ Paul’s eyes widened, but he didn’t comment. What was he thinking? She continued in a rush: ‘It doesn’t feel like the right time to get too involved with anyone. In fact, I can’t see it lasting long. We’ve little in common.’ Except treason, of course, she thought. At that moment she would have gladly run Northcott through. It was his fault she was having to lie, yet again.

  ‘And you?’ she asked, doing her best to sound nonchalant.

  Paul chuckled. ‘I don’t have the time. Training is intense and we are moving on again next week.’

  ‘Oh, come on! You must socialise a bit.’ Sarah knew from the gossip at work that the armed services’ social lives were always lively. Some of Gladys’s stories had been shocking.

  ‘We sometimes go out for a quiet pint in the town,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll be struck down for telling me such a whopper of a lie. I’d say you’re last to leave every night. In fact, they probably have to throw you out!’

  ‘You know me too well, Sarah Gillespie,’ he said, laughing. ‘However, we are under strict orders and have to be back at camp by a certain time. If you’re late, there is hell to pay.’

  ‘And are the Yorkshire ladies to your liking?’

  ‘I refuse to answer that,’ he replied. ‘Here; you’re neglecting your duties. Pour us a cuppa.’

  As Sarah poured, she said, ‘This new place you are going to; what will you be doing there?’

  ‘It’s final selection, so it will be crunch time. We will train in Tiger Moths and based on how well we do, we will be selected for further pilot training.’

  ‘What happens if you’re not selected to be a pilot?’

  ‘Don’t even say that!’ he said, his mouth turning down. ‘I would be devastated. I’d probably cry.’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ she laughed.

  Paul took a sip of his tea, his eyes alight. ‘Some will train as navigators or bomb aimers. But not me; I will be a pilot, come hell or high water. Even if I have to steal a plane to do it!’

  Sarah grinned back at him. ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment. Does the RAF realise what an obstinate man you can be?’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky, Sarah Gillespie. Eat your cake.’

  27

  1st November 1941, The Victoria Hotel, Southampton

  Sarah made her way across the marble-floored entrance hall to the reception desk of the hotel, the echo of her footsteps adding to her discomfort. The foyer was all gilt and glass and screamed luxury. The guests she passed were well-to-do and fashionably dressed; most of the men were in uniform and the women in exquisite evening wear. Sarah glanced down at her sensible woollen coat and low-heeled shoes and shrugged. This was an alien world she had dropped into, one of glamour and money. But it didn’t matter what she looked like; she would not be here for long. The niggling notion that Northcott had deliberately chosen such a place to intimidate her crossed her mind, and she smiled.

  Behind the reception desk, a young man made no attempt to disguise his scrutiny as she approached. Sarah guessed it was a practised look to intimidate any riffraff and send them scurrying back out the door.

  ‘Good evening … madam,’ the receptionist greeted her. ‘May I be of assistance?’

  Sarah almost smiled in response. What he really wanted to ask her was what she was thinking coming into his high-class hotel dressed like a refugee. ‘Good evening. I do hope so. I’m here to meet Captain Northcott. He’s expecting me,’ she answered, chin up, channelling Joan Fontaine to the best of her ability.

  The receptionist flicked a glance off to the right. ‘If madam would care to take a seat in the lounge, I’ll inform the captain you are here when he arrives,’ he replied in a slightly warmer tone than absolute zero. With a pained smile and a flick of his wrist, he indicated a doorway off the foyer.

  ‘Much obliged,’ Sarah replied, her nose in the air.

  The guest lounge was a handsome room, with red wing-backed chairs grouped around tables, potted palms aplenty, and white panelled walls. A pianist was tinkling the ivories in the far corner, ignored by the various groups sitting around. What a thankless job, she thought, and nodded to him in acknowledgement. His answering quirk of a smile spoke volumes. Noticing a table in a quiet corner, Sarah walked over to it. No sooner had she sat down than a waiter materialised at her side.

  ‘A gin and tonic, please,’ she told him. ‘Actually, make that a double.’ If Northcott insisted on dragging her to Southampton, the least he could do was stand her a decent drink.

  The waiter drifted away and Sarah glanced at her watch: five to five. He should be here soon. As she sat people watching, she noticed a few curious glances aimed in her direction. Aware she stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the glamorous clientele, she returned their impudent stares with a raised brow and what she hoped was an icy gaze. She’d just have to brazen it out until Captain Northcott appeared. Hopefully, he would not be late.

  A stylish couple at the next table caught her eye. The lady’s dress was beautiful. It consisted of swathes of pink chiffon that swept elegantly to the floor. How on earth had the woman sourced a dress like that on clothes rations? But then, if one had money, anything was possible. A tendril of envy caught Sarah by surprise, and she had to look away.

  What a day it had been! Parting from Paul had been awful. The afternoon had flown by, every minute of it precious to her. It had been like old times and they had fallen into easy conversation, full of banter. It felt right. It had only emphasised how dishonest she felt to be entangled with Rob, no matter how much duty demanded it. When Paul had finally looked at his watch and said he had to leave, she had almost panicked. She didn’t know when she might see him again … or if.

  With his friend Ralph present at the station, not hiding his curiosity as to their relationship, their farewell had been frustratingly restrained. At one point on the platform, she thought Paul was going to say something affectionate, perhaps even intimate, but the words never materialised. Instead, he had hugged her awkwardly and promised to write. She had waved the men off, doing her best not to show how much the parting affected her.

  The idea the war might rob her of Paul dominated her thoughts as she walked away from the station. With growing panic, she tried to put things into perspective. Was her desire to be with Paul real, or was she just being contrary? Maura had always accused her of being just that. Did she only want him because she had pushed him away? Paul was her only link to home and her past; perhaps she was afraid of losing that.

  Lost in her thoughts on her way to the hotel, she had come to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk and a man had cursed her as he dodged around her, but she was barely aware of his presence. Self-realisation had crashed through the jumble of her thoughts, leaving her appalled. The truth was that it was pointless to continue to pine for him – she had no hold on him now, and no right to expect him to remain loyal. She would have to be content in the knowledge that he was happy pursuing his dream, no matter where that might lead … even if it were into the arms of someone else. All she co
uld do was hope and pray that they would both survive whatever lay ahead for them in this war. Maybe, if fate were kind enough, they might get a second chance in the future.

  The sight of Northcott in the doorway of the lounge brought her back to the present and their eyes met just as the waiter turned up with her drink.

  ‘Good evening, Sarah,’ Northcott said as he approached the table, his glance flicking down to her glass. To her amazement, a grin lit up his face. He turned to the waiter. ‘I’ll have my usual.’

  ‘Yes, sir, of course,’ the waiter replied, and floated off.

  ‘Is this setting more to your liking?’ Northcott asked as he sat down opposite.

  Sarah looked about the room, then gave him her blandest smile. ‘Perfection. It beats rain-soaked national monuments any day.’

  The captain laughed softly. ‘That tongue of yours is far too sharp, Sarah. Be careful you don’t cut yourself.’

  Sarah took a sip of her gin, too irked to respond. How did he manage to get under her skin so often?

  With casual ease, he scanned the room before his gaze settled back on her. ‘Well, this is jolly pleasant, but shall we get down to business? Have you made any progress with our friend?’

  ‘I have agreed in principle to secure what he wants.’

  ‘Excellent, Sarah,’ he said. ‘You see, your fears were groundless. I told you he would be keen. And when do you propose to acquire it?’

  She paused while the waiter placed Northcott’s whisky on the table. ‘I hope to make a start next week.’

  ‘Only a start? Have you figured out how to do it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How?’ he asked, his brows snapping together.

  She needed to prevaricate, as she hadn’t a clue. ‘This isn’t the place to go into it,’ she answered sotto voce, looking around the room.

  ‘You intrigue me, Sarah. You have quite the talent for this kind of thing. Must be hereditary.’ Sarah threw him a dirty look. Northcott smiled back at her. ‘But perhaps you are correct; best to be careful. Very well, I will trust you have it all under control. However, I must stress how important it is that what you acquire for our friend is of value.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Our foreign friends would love to get their hands on something like that.’