by Pam Lecky
Sarah looked at the receiver and wondered if she had done the right thing. However, it was too late for regrets. For any of it.
33
9th November 1941, Winchester
Sitting between her aunt and cousin in church on Sunday, Sarah could not focus. When her fidgeting prompted a reproving glance from Martin, she mouthed ‘sorry’ and tried to relax. Breakfast that morning had probably been a mistake. It was now a cold slab of undigested food sitting in her gut. To distract herself, she followed the shafts of light coming through the stained-glass windows as they flickered across the congregation: ripples of colour as transient as her composure. It didn’t help. Sarah concentrated on the priest instead. There was some comfort in the musicality of his voice and the rhythm of the familiar Latin phrases. But his words washed over her, compounding the hollow ache in her stomach. When she managed to pray, it was a plea to God to keep her safe: to bless her mission if it was, as Northcott claimed, the right thing to do. The possible consequences of her involvement in Northcott’s scheme made her shudder. Would her actions mean that Rob would face a traitor’s rope? The doubts kept bubbling up, undermining her composure, and it took a deal of courage to suppress them and act normally in front of the family.
‘Don’t be late for dinner, you two,’ Aunt Alice said to Sarah and Martin as they parted outside the church.
Uncle Tom grinned at them and wiggled his brows from behind her back. ‘Stop fussing, woman. We’ll miss our bus.’
Aunt Alice darted a look at him from the corner of her eye. ‘I won’t be a minute, Tom; have some patience.’
‘We won’t be late, Mother. Enjoy your afternoon and don’t be anxious about us. Our plan is to meet up again and get the six o’clock bus home,’ Martin said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
‘Say hello to Ruth from me,’ she said, smiling up at him.
‘I will. Go on with ye; it’s too cold to be standing about.’
But Alice didn’t move. ‘I meant to say, Martin. Perhaps it’s time Ruth came around for dinner again some evening after work. I’d like to get to know her better.’
Sarah and Martin exchanged an amused glance. ‘I’ll see, Mum,’ he replied.
Alice frowned at him before turning to Sarah. ‘Have fun, my dear. Make sure you don’t miss that bus, now. I don’t like the thought of you travelling home on your own when it’s dark.’
‘Thank you, but you don’t need to fret, Aunty Alice. I’ll see you later,’ Sarah answered. It took a great deal of restraint not to hug her aunt. The possibility that she might never see any of them again brought a lump to her throat.
Sarah and Martin stood together and watched Alice and Tom walk away.
‘Will we be hearing wedding bells any time soon?’ Sarah teased.
‘Don’t you start. Mum is bad enough,’ he said with a smirk. ‘I’ll see you later, Sarah; you mind yourself.’
Ten minutes later, Sarah stood at the corner of Albert Place, surveying the almost deserted street. She felt in her pocket, her fingers curling around Mrs Twohig’s Iron Cross. If ever there was a test for how lucky the trophy was, it was today. Mind you, it would take some explaining if she was found with it on her person; or worse, on her corpse. My, how dark my thoughts have become, she thought with a slight shake of her head. But the gloomy thoughts were starting to numb her senses just when she could not afford to be emotional and mess things up. She had to think of this as a job, a duty to her adopted country and, above all, an opportunity to settle a score with Jerry.
She scanned the street again. Where might Northcott be hiding? There was no sign of his car. He must have left it close by; on the next street, perhaps. Would he have accessed the house before her, or was he watching and waiting for her to go in first? A million other questions ran through her head, and she realised just how unprepared she was for this. Did she possess the ability to react quickly enough to whatever might await her at Rob’s flat? She should have insisted Northcott tell her exactly what was going to happen. With a start, she remembered she hadn’t specified which flat belonged to Rob. How would Northcott figure it out? Worse still, she had no way to defend herself if things took a nasty turn with Rob’s friend. Was it too late to turn and run?
On the gable wall of the end house were numerous pasted posters. One in particular caught her eye. It was of a Tommy pointing to his helmet, and the caption read: ‘Beware Spies: Keep it under your hat’. Oh, the irony; that’s the last place a tracing would fit!
With an unsteady hand, she gently pushed against the front panel of her coat and met resistance. The tracing was still there. The night before, she had dreamt she had arrived at Rob’s flat only to find the tracing had slipped out from her coat and was lying in the street for anyone to pick up. And that was only one nightmare she had endured.
With her senses humming, she walked towards the gallery building. As she put her hand to the side door which led to the upstairs flats, she spied Mr Atkins through the gallery window. She waved hello, but he was sitting at the desk, staring into space, oblivious to her presence. Sarah suspected he was oblivious to everything. Her heart went out to him, but his grief, no more than her own, had to be pushed aside for now.
This was for Maura.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the gloom of the hallway. The only light came from the grimy windowpane above the door. For a moment, she stood and listened, peering up into the shadows. The muted sound of the radio or a gramophone was coming from one of the flats above, but she could distinguish no other sound. With her heart hammering in her chest, she climbed the flight of stairs. Much to her relief, there was no one waiting for her on the landing. She almost laughed. What had she expected? A Nazi uniformed officer hailing Hitler, welcoming her to the Third Reich with all its glories? Too much imagination, my girl.
At the top step, she hesitated. The music was louder now, coming from a flat further down the corridor. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She gripped the banister as a tremor of pure terror ran through her; she wanted to retch, but no: she had to keep control. This had to end today for the sake of her sanity, if nothing else.
She knocked on Rob’s door.
‘Come in, come in, Sarah,’ Rob said, with a bob of his head and a bright smile, as he opened the door wide. He’s cheerful, she thought, with a further twist to her beleaguered stomach. Of course, this was the culmination of his scheming: he had every reason to be delighted with himself. She stepped over the threshold and was relieved to see there was no one else in the room. Sarah turned to him with a questioning glance. ‘Are we alone?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘Is everything ok with you?’ he asked. ‘You do look tense.’
‘I am. It’s not surprising, given the circumstances.’
‘I suppose so, but there’s no reason to be. What you have done is positively heroic. I’m quite envious. I’m only a facilitator: you have done all the hard work. Here, give me your coat,’ Rob waved towards a chair, ‘and take a pew.’ She watched him hang up her coat on the back of the door. He was paler than usual, and his movements were jerky: she realised he was just as uneasy and trying to hide it. Rob turned around. ‘Well, have you got it?’ he asked, his voice hinting at hoarseness. ‘Is it in your handbag?’
‘No. It’s in the lining of my coat. If you look, there is a slit in the front seam on the right-hand side.’
‘Oh, how clever of you,’ he said, pulling the coat away from the door and feeling the inside of the lining. A slow smile spread over his face. ‘Is that how you got it out of Hursley?’ She nodded.
Taking his time, he pulled the tracing cloth free of the lining. Once at the table by the window, he smoothed it out, almost reverently. Sarah recoiled. He could hardly contain his excitement. Bloody traitor! If only he could be caught at this moment when his treachery was so plain to see. Taking a deep breath, she joined him at the table, hoping Northcott would make his appearance sooner rather than later, because she didn’t know
how much longer she could maintain the pretence.
‘This looks great, Sarah,’ Rob said, peering at it closely. ‘What is the drawing?’
‘The release mechanism for the newly designed cockpit for the Mark VII,’ she told him.
He pointed to the ink stain. ‘Is there anything crucial under there?’
‘No. That’s the title block. It only has names and dates, and version number – that kind of thing. As I planned, the ink only affected that part of the tracing. That was one of the tricky bits of the whole operation because if I had misjudged it, and the spill had spread over the drawing, it would be useless to anyone. Luckily, the stain was enough to make the tracing unusable from Supermarine’s point of view, but the actual tracing is an exact replica of the original. You need not worry.’ He nodded vigorously whilst staring at the sheet. ‘So, will this do, do you think?’ she prompted. ‘Will it satisfy your friend?’
‘Looks marvellous to me,’ he said, smiling up at her. ‘Well done. I think he will be more than happy.’ Rob tapped the drawing. ‘Don’t worry, he will make sure the Luftwaffe get this. Then it’s up to them to make the best use of the information.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t want to go through that again, I can tell you.’
Rob patted her arm. ‘Don’t worry, Sarah. This should be enough.’
Her insides twisted again. ‘But what if it isn’t, Rob? I took an enormous risk getting this. It was sheer luck I got away with it. I want you to tell him I won’t be repeating the exercise.’
‘All right! Take it easy. Look, you can tell him yourself. We will meet him shortly.’
‘Is that necessary?’ she asked.
Where the hell was Northcott? Things were moving too fast. How was she to stall them?
‘Yep. He wants to meet you and pay you in person.’ Rob grinned at her. ‘I think you will find he will be more than generous. Of course, he also wishes to convey his thanks for your service to the Fatherland.’ Rob placed his hand down on the tracing. ‘This kind of information could actually save lives.’
He said it with so much sincerity, she was nauseous. ‘Do you think so? That’s gratifying, I’m sure. Where are we meeting him?’ Sarah asked, worried he was going to say they had to go elsewhere. She had no way of letting Northcott know if there was a change of location. She only hoped the captain had the building under surveillance and could follow them. But where was he? Time was running out.
Rob smiled and tapped the side of his nose. ‘He’s here already.’
Sarah glanced around. ‘Where?’ Was he in the bedroom? Had he been listening the whole time? Suddenly, her hands were clammy.
‘He’s waiting for us upstairs, in fact. By a stroke of luck, Mr Atkins cleared out most of Alfie’s stuff from the attic last week. It’s the perfect spot to meet as we won’t be disturbed up there.’ Rob waved his hand around the room. ‘The walls are pretty thin down here. Do you hear that racket from the girls in the flat next door? When their radio isn’t blaring, I can hear every word they say. It’s too dangerous to chance being overheard here.’
Sarah thought it was an odd arrangement, despite his explanation. Something wasn’t right. Her instincts were screaming at her to run.
‘But I saw Mr Atkins down in the gallery as I came in. This is risky, is it not? He might go up to the attic for some reason. How would we explain our presence?’
Rob frowned. ‘I doubt he will. The poor man is still in a state. Sits down there mulling over what might have been most days.’ Rob rolled the tracing up and tucked it under his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get this over with. Then we can go for a celebratory drink.’ Rob held the door open for her.
‘Oh, good,’ she replied half-heartedly. ‘I have more than earned one.’
34
9th November 1941, Winchester
Sarah hung back and let Rob precede her up the narrow flight of stairs to the attic. Despite the chill of the house, her blouse was stuck to her back with perspiration and her hands were damp. Taking deep breaths helped her keep control, even though she had every reason to panic. Rob already had the tracing and Northcott hadn’t been present to see or stop the hand-over. What was she to do? Should she grab it back from Rob and run? In a few moments, it would end up in German hands. She couldn’t let that happen, not after all she had been through.
This would be an excellent moment to appear, Captain Northcott.
Rob turned at the top and gave her an encouraging smile, his eyes bright with excitement, evidently pleased with himself and his achievements. Then he pushed open the attic door and disappeared from view. She followed him inside.
The room was as cold as she remembered, but most of Alfie’s clutter was gone. Instead, an armchair now stood where the easel used to be. A silver-topped cane leaned against the arm of the chair, and sitting in it was …
Rob stepped forward. ‘Here she is, Northcott, and I think you will be very pleased with what she has brought along for us today.’ Rob grabbed her arm and pulled her forward, before throwing her a triumphant glance. ‘You were right about her in every respect, Captain. She’s a republican, and a traitor to this country.’ Rob held up the tracing. ‘She didn’t need much encouragement to steal this when she thought it would find its way to Germany. You have your spy.’
‘Well done, McArthur. Do come and join us, Miss Gillespie.’ Northcott smiled at her.
‘You!’ Sarah found her voice at last.
What was going on? This didn’t make any sense.
Rob swung around, frowning. ‘You two know each other?’
‘Very well, indeed,’ drawled Northcott. ‘Isn’t that so, Sarah?’
‘Yes!’ She almost choked on the word as her mind raced. What the hell was he playing at? Northcott was Rob’s contact? Rob thought she was a republican and a traitor.
‘But … I don’t understand, Northcott,’ Rob said, his gaze flicking between Sarah and the captain. ‘How does she know you already? What’s going on?’
‘A good question, Rob. What is going on, Captain?’ Sarah asked, stepping closer. ‘You asked me to root out your fascist fifth columnist.’ Furious, she waved her hand at Rob. ‘That’s you, Rob, in case you haven’t worked it out yet.’
‘What?’ Rob shouted, his bewildered gaze swinging wildly back and forth.
The captain chuckled softly. ‘What a pair of gullible fools. This has been almost too easy.’
Sarah grabbed Rob’s arm and hissed, dismayed that he did not comprehend what was happening: ‘For God’s sake, Rob. He isn’t who he claims.’
Rob shook her off and shot her an angry glare. ‘I don’t understand.’ Then he stepped towards Northcott. ‘Explain!’ he demanded, his voice cracking.
‘Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out, old chap. Now, give me the tracing,’ Northcott said, easing up out of the chair. ‘We can’t let all of Sarah’s excellent work go to waste.’
With her heart hammering in her chest, Sarah stared at Northcott. His face was twisted, and his eyes filled with mania. A zealous Nazi; isn’t that what Rob had described to her? Well, even if Rob had given her the impression that his Nazi contact might be German, it was an unerringly accurate description of the captain at this moment. As the pieces fell into place, she was filled with rage. They had both been duped. She had to make Rob understand that they were in real danger from this lunatic.
‘He has tricked both of us, Rob. I don’t know who you really are, but I bet he convinced you I was dying to sell secrets. All the while he set me up to out you as the spy at Hursley. Don’t you see? We did his dirty work for him. We stole the plans he wanted.’
Northcott smiled and nodded. ‘Indeed, you did, my dear girl, and I’m ever so grateful.’
Rob looked at her aghast. ‘He said you were IRA and had been planted at Hursley to get Spitfire drawings for the Germans. All you needed was a way of getting them out of England and I was to provide that.’
‘No, no, you have it all wrong.’ She had to c
onvince Rob they had both been manipulated. ‘He lied to both of us. He told me you had similar aims.’
‘What?’ Rob went deadly pale. ‘That’s utter nonsense. I’m a journalist. He promised me a scoop if I helped him reveal the spy at Supermarine. I only pretended about all that fascist nonsense so we could flush you out. He was desperate to expose you.’ Slowly, he turned back to Northcott. He was trembling. ‘You bastard! What are you playing at?’
‘Now, now, McArthur; language, please: there is a lady present,’ the captain said. ‘I suggest you both calm down.’ He held out his hand. ‘The tracing, please.’
‘Rob, I’m telling you: he is the fifth columnist,’ Sarah cried. ‘We have been double-crossed.’
‘No, I don’t believe you. He can’t be. He’s Royal Navy, for goodness’ sake.’
‘Which makes him all the more dangerous. I don’t know his motivation, but his sympathies clearly lie with Germany. What’s more, if you hand over that tracing, he will kill us.’
‘Why would he do that?’ Rob asked, his voice rising, his expression wild.
Sarah glanced at Northcott. A smug smile played about his mouth. He was thoroughly enjoying the situation. Enraged, she swung back around to Rob. ‘Good God, you idiot, don’t you realise? He has too much to lose to let us go free. We know who he is. We are witnesses. If he is arrested for treason, he will hang.’
‘Might I also point out that you are both accomplices?’ Northcott chipped in. ‘Well, this is all lovely – a real tête-à-tête – however, I am in a hurry.’ Northcott eased a revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at Rob. ‘You should listen to her, McArthur. She’s far cleverer than I had anticipated. If I had known, I would have ensured she secured more than one drawing for me. Alas, this one will have to suffice. I do hope you heeded my words, Sarah, and brought me something of worth.’
Suddenly, Northcott lunged forward and grabbed the tracing from Rob, pushing him backwards to the floor. Sarah leapt forward and tried to hit the revolver out of Northcott’s grip. In the tussle, the captain dropped the tracing. With a curse, he pulled her by the arm and twisted her around, just as Rob gained his feet. Northcott’s arm was like a band of steel around her stomach, pinning her arms. She was stuck fast and no match for the captain’s strength.