Her Secret War

by Pam Lecky

  I do have some cracking news. As I told you, this is make-or-break time for us lads at Brough, and I am proud to tell you that I managed a solo flight after eight hours’ training. Unfortunately, it took me several attempts to land as I kept coming in too close to the riverbank. It was only afterwards one of the chaps told me my instructor had hidden himself in the flight hut, thinking I was going to crash his precious plane. The upshot of all of this, however, is the best news ever. I have been selected for further pilot training and you will never guess where I will be doing it: America! Alabama, in fact. Fancy that – an Irish lad flying US planes in an RAF uniform. I’ll write again when I have more details. It would be wonderful if we could meet again before I depart.

  In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble and, of course, let me know if there is any chance for us.

  Yours in hope,

  Paul.

  If it were not for a lack of pen and paper, Sarah would have replied to the letter straight away. For the guts of twenty minutes, all she could do was sit there, turning the letter over and over in her hands. She could hardly believe it. Paul still loved her. My God, she had broken his heart and yet he had remained loyal all these months. Many times, she had wished she could have turned the clock back. All those nights she had tossed and turned, wishing she had been brave enough to ask his forgiveness. Loving Paul had made her liaison with Rob almost impossible. If Northcott had not kept the pressure up, she might have abandoned the scheme with Rob and faced the consequences. If she had known Paul loved her, it would have made it all so much more bearable. This letter changed everything. As soon as possible the next day, she would write that letter and reassure him she felt the same way.

  The following morning would be busy. First thing, she was to meet Cousin Judith at a Lyons Corner House. It promised to be an interesting meeting. Not that she was nervous about it, having met with nothing but kindness from the rest of the family, but Judith was an unknown quantity. Sarah’s impression of her wasn’t great, based on her constant neglect of her parents. However, Martin’s fondness for his sister had to carry some weight. She would hold off judging her cousin until she met her.

  Immediately after that, she was due to meet Colonel Everleigh of MI5, Miss Whitaker’s old beau. Why on earth did he want to meet her? Miss Whitaker would not tell her anything about what was to be discussed, insisting that Sarah had to hear it from the colonel. In the end, she had given up asking Miss Whitaker, and allowed her to confirm the meeting. Of course, there was an element of curiosity in Sarah’s decision. She was dying to see the man who had stolen the heart of the Dragon and been brave enough to walk away.

  Her dreams that night were not of MI5 officers, but of a certain RAF pilot who looked rather dashing in that uniform.

  39

  12th December 1941, Piccadilly Circus, London

  It was early on Friday morning when Sarah arrived in Piccadilly. As she stood taking in the multistorey buildings and the logjam of red buses, black taxis and delivery vans, she recalled Paul’s comment about London’s energy compared to sleepy Dublin. There were so many people milling about, it was extraordinary. She had to admit she liked the air of excitement. All of a sudden, a stream of people emerged from the depths of the Tube station close to where she was standing. Everyone blinked as they came out into the daylight. Some were holding bags, some had blankets rolled up under their arms, and all wore a relieved expression.

  ‘I tell you wot, Flo, if I have to stay one more night down there, I’ll lose my marbles, I will,’ one woman remarked to her friend as they walked past.

  ‘Too right, Elsie. Can’t get a wink of sleep with those cryin’ babies and noisy young ’uns. It’s enough to make you chance stayin’ at home.’

  Sarah knew that people used the underground stations as air-raid shelters. God love them, for it didn’t sound pleasant, and she was glad it was something she would not have to experience during her brief stay. All being well, she planned to be back on a train to Winchester by late afternoon. Martin had promised to meet her at the station.

  ‘Watch out, love,’ an elderly man said, as he brushed past her.

  ‘Sorry!’ she said, but he was already lost in the crowd.

  Everyone was in a tearing hurry, and she wondered if they were going to work or going home, for some looked as though they had pulled an all-nighter. Perhaps they were ARP wardens or Home Guard, or maybe they worked the night shift in the factories.

  Dawdling along, she examined the shop windows and marvelled at the array of items to purchase. Dublin shops, even before the war, hadn’t anything to compare with what was on offer in London. Someday, when rationing was over, she’d come back to London and splurge.

  Looking up from a shoe display, she suddenly realised she needed to get her bearings. She pulled out the rough sketch one of her fellow guests had provided on overhearing her ask the landlady for directions. Mrs Horgan had stared at her, grabbed the large metal teapot off the table and quit the room, leading one of the other guests at the table to pipe up with, ‘I won’t be sending my children to whatever finishing school she attended!’ They’d all laughed.

  ‘Here, you say you want to go to Coventry Street?’ Sarah had nodded and the woman had drawn the map on a scrap of paper. ‘There you are, and if you get lost, ask a policeman.’

  Sarah strolled down Coventry Street until she reached the Lyons Corner House where she was to meet Judith. Even at this early hour, it was busy with a constant flow of people in and out. Sarah checked her watch. She had timed it well: a few more minutes and Judith should be here. Her cousin’s message said to meet her on the tea shop floor. Aunt Alice had gone to great pains to explain that there were in fact five floors, each serving a unique menu and with a different theme. Her aunt remembered the Lyons on Coventry Street with great fondness, as it had been a haunt of hers and Uncle Tom’s for the brief time they’d lived in London. ‘Neither too posh nor working class, my dear,’ she had said with a twinkle in her eye.

  A young woman greeted Sarah as she entered the main door. ‘Second floor, Miss, is where you want,’ the girl informed her when Sarah enquired. ‘Stairs is at the back over there.’

  Sarah made her way past the delicatessen counter and the packed tables to the rear of the shop. An archway led to the stairwell.

  As soon as Sarah went through the doorway on the second floor, she stalled, amazed at the sight before her. The tea room was hopping with people and their chatter lifted her spirits. It was so lively it was easy to forget there was a war playing out. But perhaps that explained their high spirits. One thing was certain: she could get used to this buzz of excitement. No wonder Cousin Judith didn’t want to leave London. Then, just above the din, she thought she could hear music. To her amazement, she spotted a small orchestra playing at the far end of the room. And such a room! The décor was 1920s Art Deco and she loved the geometric shapes and the monochrome colour scheme. Then, realising she must look a bit odd, all agog standing in the doorway, she schooled her features. Try not to look like a complete country bumpkin, she told herself.

  A waitress in black with a white apron and cap approached. ‘Miss, may I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘A table for two, please. I’m waiting for a friend,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘No problem, Miss, this way.’ Sarah was seated at a table with a menu in her hand before she knew what was happening. The waitress drifted away to another table.

  Sarah opened her menu and smiled, for at the top in bold lettering was ‘Food is a munition of war – don’t waste it!’ After her meagre breakfast at Horgan’s that morning, there was little chance of that. Her stomach rumbled and she shifted in her seat, hiding a smile. She ran her finger down the listings. A cuppa was only thruppence and a fresh scone only a penny-halfpenny – more than affordable, even for her. Still, she was grateful Uncle Tom had slipped her some money the night before she left: ‘in case of emergencies’, he had said. He was such a dear man.

  As she waited, her nerve
s grew. Should she order or wait? Again, she glanced at her watch. This was silly. Meeting Judith should not be making her nervous. She was bound to be as nice as the others. It had to be the meeting afterwards that was putting her on edge. What could MI5 want with her? Miss Whitaker had assured her it was simply a chat. She took a deep breath and smoothed her aunt’s pale-blue scarf where it lay over the collar of her coat. She had agreed to wear it so Judith could find her without too much trouble; but what if another lady had a similar scarf?

  As Sarah scanned the room a voice at her side enquired: ‘Cousin Sarah?’

  ‘Oh! Yes,’ she answered, looking up at a willowy blond, smartly dressed in a stylish suit, with a natty hat perched on the side of her head. Sarah stood and held out her hand, but Judith ignored it and hugged her instead, just like Uncle Tom had done the day Sarah had arrived in Southampton.

  Judith held her at arm’s length. ‘My, but you’re tiny! And as pretty as a doll,’ she said, her eyes alight. ‘Gosh, you’re just like your photograph.’

  ‘So are you!’ Sarah exclaimed.

  Once settled at the table, Judith smiled across at her. ‘Dad loves all those old photographs. He is so sentimental. Martin and I used to call it his Irish rogues’ gallery. All those cousins we had never met. Dad was always reminiscing about Ireland and the family, but we used to make up alternative histories to amuse ourselves. And don’t ask me what those tall tales were, because it was so long ago and very silly stuff indeed. So, in a way, we grew up with you in our lives.’ Judith caught her breath, her hand flying up to her mouth. ‘How awful of me! I’m deeply sorry for what happened to you all. Poor Cousin Maura and Uncle Jim. You were lucky not to have met the same fate. We were so shocked to hear about Dublin being bombed, and when Dad saw where the bombs had dropped … well, he was frantic. It was two weeks before we got any news. You would not believe his relief when he found out you were alive, but he was devastated about poor Cousin Maura.’

  ‘I was lucky, both to survive and for Uncle Tom being so generous in bringing me here,’ Sarah said.

  Judith reached for her hand, her brow furrowed. ‘It was only right and proper, what with you left without a soul to take care of you. Well, you are a Lambe now. We’ll look after you.’ Sarah felt a rush of affection for her cousin, but found she couldn’t speak. ‘Now, we should order,’ Judith said, all business. She consulted her watch as the waitress appeared at the table. ‘We’ll have tea and scones, please, and we’re in a hurry.’

  ‘Very good, Miss,’ the waitress answered, not looking the least put out.

  ‘I was beginning to think we’d never meet,’ Judith continued. ‘Mum and Dad must be mad with me for not going home … well, actually I know they are. But, you see, work is horrendously busy.’

  ‘Well, now that you say it, I do think you should make the effort,’ Sarah said, recalling her poor aunt’s face on hearing of the last cancellation.

  ‘Lord! You are forthright.’ Cousin Judith sized her up for several seconds before breaking into a smile. ‘And you are dead right. I am such a coward, and I don’t want to upset them, so it’s just easier to stay in London and not face the questions.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Golly, this is awkward. Most weekends we have to work right through, but there is another reason,’ she said with a meaningful look.

  ‘Ah! A man.’

  ‘How clever of you. Yes.’

  ‘I don’t think they would mind,’ Sarah said, perplexed.

  ‘It’s complicated … he’s my boss and … he’s married.’

  ‘Oh! I can see how that would be difficult. But, forgive me, will you not have to tell them at some stage? Putting it off will only make it worse.’

  ‘You’re a wise old thing, and you’re right; but the fact is I’ll not be able to get away this side of Christmas. Not after what happened yesterday when all hell broke loose at the office. Such a commotion.’

  ‘What happened?’ Sarah asked, wondering what she had missed.

  ‘Don’t you know? Did you not see the papers this morning?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Germany and Italy declared war on the US. You can imagine what that means. Anyway, it was well after midnight when I got back to the flat, and then I slept it out this morning.’ Judith removed her gloves and sighed. ‘I expect it will be hell today. Still, far more exciting than any day at Supermarine, wouldn’t you say?’

  It was on the tip of Sarah’s tongue to contradict her, but Miss Whitaker’s stern features floated before her. ‘Yes, it can be awfully dull.’

  ‘It’s such a pity you’re stuck down in Hursley. This is the centre of things. It’s much more fun here, I can assure you … well, when you’re not trapped behind a desk at work, that is. How are you getting on in the job? I worked for them in Southampton for about a year as a secretary, but when they moved to Hursley, I decided it was time to move on. Miss Whitaker found me my present job you-know-where …‍’ Judith said this sotto voce before glancing around. ‘Can’t be too careful. Loose talk and all that.’

  Sarah was just about keeping up with her garrulous cousin. ‘But you like it – where you work now?’

  Judith leaned towards her. ‘It’s wonderful! You get to meet the most amazing people. Gerald, my boss, is such a dear, though he works me hard.’ Judith sighed. ‘The best bit is the nightlife in London. Just can’t be beaten. I share a flat with two other girls, Maisie and Anne. Like me, they aren’t Londoners and they’re enjoying their newfound freedom, if you know what I mean.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘Martin suspected you were having a grand old time.’

  ‘Dear Martin! How is he? I wish he’d come to London and see me. It’s too bad of him neglecting me like this. Though I hear from Mother there is a lady in his life.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m afraid that is over. Ruth has left Supermarine and gone back home to Kent.’

  ‘Really? Poor Martin. We were as thick as thieves growing up, you know. Mind you, he can be a real bossy boots.’ Judith sat back and giggled. ‘And eagle-eyed. Perhaps it’s just as well he isn’t in London.’

  ‘Don’t worry, he has found a new target. I keep him busy in that regard.’

  ‘Oh good, I hope he will ease up on me then. His last letter was vile, full of recriminations.’ Judith leaned forward, her blue eyes alive with mischief. ‘My advice is not to take any guff from Martin. Some fellows need to know their place.’ As she sat back, she laughed. ‘Do you know, I have just had the most marvellous idea. Perhaps you could persuade him to visit me in London. In fact, both of you should come up for the weekend. Isn’t that a wonderful idea? We’d have such fun: see the sights and have a night out.’

  ‘That sounds brilliant. I’ll persuade him, you can depend on it,’ Sarah answered, suddenly thinking of Gladys. ‘I might drag a friend of mine along as well.’

  ‘Excellent. Oh, here’s our food. Tuck in, and then we must get you safely to St James’s Street.’

  40

  12th December 1941, MI5, St James’s Street, London

  Judith insisted on walking Sarah all the way, chatting away ten to the dozen. With her stomach doing flip-flops, Sarah hadn’t refused the offer, even though it was only a short walk from Coventry Street and she had memorised the route.

  ‘Well, my dear, here we are,’ Judith said, stopping outside an unremarkable building with a rundown appearance compared to its neighbours.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Sarah asked, looking at the ‘To Let’ sign hanging above the door.

  Her cousin grinned back at her and leaned close. ‘They like to be inconspicuous. Now, give your cousin a goodbye hug.’

  They embraced, and for a split second Sarah was tempted to ask Judith to wait for her. Instead, she asked: ‘Have you any messages for home?’

  ‘Best to be honest. As I said, it doesn’t look like I will be home until Christmas, especially after what happened yesterday. Tell Mother I’ll write to her this week. And ask her if there
is anything special she would like me to bring home for the holidays. It’s much easier to find things here if you know the right people,’ Judith said with a wink. ‘Now, will you be ok?’ she asked, glancing up at the building.

  Sarah lifted her chin. ‘Yes, it’s just a chat.’

  Judith’s expression was full of sympathy. ‘If you say so. And now I really must fly, or my boss will skin me alive. Don’t forget our plan for a weekend here. Take care, and safe journey home.’ And with that Judith was gone.

  Sarah took a deep breath, climbed the steps, and rang the bell.

  Sarah followed the porter through a labyrinth of corridors and up several flights of stairs before he stopped at an unmarked door.

  ‘Please, Miss,’ the man said, opening the door and waving her through.

  ‘Miss Gillespie.’ The man behind the desk jumped up and came forward to greet her. ‘Do come in.’ He held out his hand. ‘Colonel Everleigh, at your service.’ Black slicked-back hair, piercing blue eyes and a hook nose gave the colonel a striking appearance. Sarah could imagine the effect it must have had on a young Miss Whitaker all those years ago.

  They shook hands and he pulled out a chair for her. When he was settled back behind the desk, he folded his arms. Sarah knew he was sizing her up. ‘It is good of you to come to London. My travelling to Hampshire was out of the question. As you can imagine, we are extremely busy at present.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. It was no trouble. In fact, it was an opportunity to meet one of my cousins and see a bit of London, too.’

  He smiled. ‘Ah yes, Miss Lambe.’

  ‘You know my cousin?’

  His gaze strayed to a file on the desk. ‘I know of her.’

  ‘I see.’ She should have expected he’d know all about her and her family. Was she always going to be on the back foot with these people?

  ‘And what do you make of London?’ the colonel asked.

  ‘From the little I have seen, I like it very much,’ she replied.