Читать книгу: «Windflower Wedding»

ELIZABETH ELGIN
Windflower Wedding

Dedication
For my own ‘Clan’
Sally, Tim, Maria
Joanne, David, Angela
Rachel, Rhiannon
Jayne and Rebecca
Family Tree

Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Family Tree
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
About the Author
By the Same Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
1942
Home. Keth Purvis smiled with pure pleasure. Where he was being driven he had no idea, and cared still less, because this morning he had disembarked at Greenock. Not quite home. Holdenby in the North Riding of Yorkshire was home, but Scotland was near enough! Now he was only a telephone call away from Daisy; now, the Atlantic no longer separated them.
‘So do you want the good news first, or the bad?’ his superior in Washington had asked.
‘Whichever, sir.’
They had turned him down, he’d thought; turned down his request to return to England, but the bad news was that that request was approved – with conditions. The good news was that when he returned to England, when a passage could be arranged for him, he would be promoted to the rank of captain.
He wasn’t, he recalled, offered any details. It was a take-it-or-leave-it deal, with no questions asked and no answers given.
He had taken it; had grasped it eagerly, for what condition could be so demanding that Daisy was not worth it?
That had been on his birthday in July. Now it was September and the heather on the hills fading, the bracken turning to gold. Days of waiting became weeks, then months. His elation turned to dejection. They had forgotten him, he was sure of it, until one day he was on his way on a troopship filled with American soldiers and airmen and, though he only once glimpsed them, a score of nurses, carefully chaperoned.
They had not sailed in convoy. The Queen Mary was too fleet to be so confined. She sailed alone, keeping a zigzag course the whole way across the Atlantic to outwit submarine commanders who would give eyeteeth and more to sink her or her sister ship the Queen Elizabeth. The Mary and the Lizzie – and the Mary had borne him safely home. To Daisy.
‘Where are we?’ he asked of the woman driver.
‘Sir – I don’t rightly know …’
‘Somewhere in Scotland, surely?’
‘Yes, sir. Somewhere in Scotland.’ She stared ahead, her cheeks pinking.
‘So if you don’t know where we are,’ he teased, ‘how will you know when we get there?’
She could well be lost, he thought mischievously. It was two years since signposts had been removed – even the one at Holdenby crossroads – so that the enemy, when he parachuted in, should not know where he had landed. Then, Britain daily had expected invasion and though it was almost certain that invasion would never happen now, still the signposts and names of railway stations had not been put back.
‘Sir. I know approximately where I am.’ She glanced at him sideways and saw the smile on his face. ‘And I know exactly where we are going, but you know I can’t tell you!’
‘Of course, Sergeant.’ He didn’t care where they were going. He had always thought – when They had told him his request to return to England had been approved, but with conditions attached – that he would be sent to some out-of-the-way, hush-hush place. Another Bletchley, only in the wilds. Doing exactly the same thing he had done at Bletchley. And where more wild than this, with the road they travelled little wider than a cart track and getting narrower by the mile?
A beautiful wilderness, for all that. To their left, the head of a loch, circled with hills, and to their right, mile upon mile of pine trees and tangled undergrowth and the sun, big and orange, beginning to sink behind those purple hills.
He looked at his watch. Ten o’clock. Daylight lasted longer the further north they travelled. In London – and in Liverpool too – blackout conditions would already be in force, he supposed.
‘What time is blackout?’
‘Depending on where you are – and give or take a minute or two – round about ten o’clock.’
‘Should you have told me that, sergeant?’ he said with mock severity.
‘Oh yes, sir. I got it from the newspaper this morning.’
She was biting on her bottom lip to suppress a smile. She was really rather nice. Married, of course. Her wedding ring was the first thing he noticed about her capable left hand. There were many married women in the armed forces, he supposed, and soon, given luck and seven days’ marriage leave, Daisy would be another of them.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he hazarded, shifting his position the better to see her face, ‘that if we were to pass a phone box you could stop? I’d like to ring my fiancée. We haven’t spoken to each other for –’
‘Sir!’ She cut him short, her face all at once very serious. ‘There are no phone boxes around here. All removed. Security, see. But even if there were and you ordered me to stop – we-e-ll, I’d be bound to report it as soon as we arrived because it would be more than my stripes were worth if I didn’t!’
‘And you’ll report this conversation?’
‘No, sir.’ She was smiling again. ‘Not this time. Only you’ve got to realize the way it is.’
‘Yes. I realize.’ Phones, where they were going, would be listened-in to or scrambled, and every letter he wrote censored. He expected it and he didn’t care, ‘I suppose we are allowed to have phone calls?’
‘With permission, yes, sir. You’ll be able to phone out, sometimes, but there are no calls allowed in. I’ve been there a year now, and I still don’t know the phone number. And when you do phone, you’ll have to get used to the fact that someone will almost certainly be listening.’
‘Hmm.’ He folded his arms and stared ahead. More hush-hush than Bletchley Park, this new destination. At Bletchley he had at least been trusted with the phone.
Then he shifted in his seat, straightened his shoulders and allowed himself a small, secret smile. He was home and soon Daisy would know it in spite of all the petty restrictions.
And that was all that mattered!
Wren Daisy Dwerryhouse, summoned to the phone in the hall at Wrens’ Quarters, Hellas House, said, ‘Dwerryhouse,’ and waited, breath indrawn. It was always like this now, when anyone at all phoned.
Keth? whispered a voice inside her, even though she knew it would be Mam or Drew or Tatty.
‘Hi, Daiz!’ Only Drew called her Daiz. ‘Just thought I’d ring, see how you are and if there are any messages for Rowangarth.’
‘Drew! You’re going home!’
‘Only seventy-two hours. We’re getting de-gaussed again so most of us have got a spot of leave.’
‘Is Kitty going with you?’
‘She is. She managed to wangle it. Well – you know Kitty!’
Daisy knew her, and liked her; liked her a lot in spite of the fact that Kitty’s coming to England had resulted in near heartbreak for Lyndis, with whom Daisy shared a cabin.
‘Well, enjoy yourselves. I’m just fine, tell Mam and Dada. And give my love to Aunt Julia. I should be home on long leave myself before so very much longer. That’ll put a smile on Mam’s face. Oh – and give my love to Kitty too, won’t you?’
She smiled into the receiver as she replaced it; just as if she were smiling at Drew, her brother – her half-brother. Dear Drew who was so in love, just as she was, and planning a wedding as soon as They, the faceless ones, allowed it because in wartime, They could do anything they wanted and without so much as a by-your-leave.
She opened the door of Cabin 4A, closed it carefully, then paused to think about what she would say.
‘That was Drew on the phone.’ Leading-Wren Lyndis Carmichael said it for her. ‘And he’s in dock and taking Kitty out and not you and me.’ Not any more, since Kitty.
‘Yes, but they’re going home. He’s got seventy-two hours’ leave. He just phoned to see if there were any messages.’
‘I see. And you don’t have to look so guilty. I brought it on myself, didn’t I? Fell hook, line and sinker for him and then he ditches me for Kitty Sutton, one of your hallowed Clan!’
‘No, Lyn! Drew liked you a lot – then Kitty happened along and that was it! It was nothing to do with the Clan.’
‘You’re right. It wasn’t. And I should’ve got used to it by now, but being dropped still hurts, Daisy, because I still love him – more than ever, if that’s possible. Even though he’s going to marry Kitty, it doesn’t stop me wanting him.’
‘Lyn, love – what can I say? Both you and Drew are special to me, and Kitty too, so I’ve got to sit on the fence as far as you and he are concerned. Don’t ask me to take sides.’
‘I won’t. Only you can’t turn love off. You can try, but the loving is always there.’
‘I know. It would be the same for me if Keth found someone else. And don’t think I’m all smug, Lyn, because I’ve got a ring on my finger. I worry, sometimes, that we’ll be so long apart he’ll forget what I look like. I mean – why did he have to be sent back to Washington? Three years away, then one day, out of the blue, he’s on the phone – back home. And just when we think we’ll be getting married They send him away again. Who do They think They are, then? Almighty God?’
‘Of course they do! Has it taken you all this time for the penny to drop? We are only names and numbers to that lot! But I’ll tell you something, Dwerryhouse D. I’m going to have the time of my life cocking a snook at Authority the minute I get back to civvy street again. Just imagine seeing an officer and saying, “Hullo, mate,” to him instead of saluting! Or maybe even winking!’
‘“When I get back to civvy street again.” How many millions of times must that have been said, Lyn?’
‘Lord knows, and He won’t tell! Anyway, now that we’ve done our stint for King and Country for the day …’
‘And eaten a mediocre, kept-warm lunch.’
‘Very mediocre. So what say we take a walk in the park? There won’t be many more lovely afternoons left. We’re well into September, now.’
‘Mm. Had you realized that we’re three weeks into year four of the war?’
‘I had. But if it hadn’t been for the war, I wouldn’t have met Drew, had you thought?’
‘Drew is taboo!’
‘Okay. And worrying about Keth in Washington?’
‘That too.’
‘So what shall we talk about? Shortage of lipsticks and face cream?’
‘Or the blackout?’
‘And the pubs always running out of beer and never a bottle of gin to be seen!’
‘And my wedding dress, hanging at Rowangarth!’
‘Now we’re back to Keth again!’
They began to laugh, because it was best you laughed about things you were powerless to change, then pulled on hats and gloves and made for the park, just across the road.
Navy-blue woolly gloves and thick black stockings on a beautiful Indian summer day in September, Lyn thought. Yuk!
‘By the way,’ she said, when they had fallen into step and were making towards the Palm House, ‘I know it’s taboo, but what did you say they were doing to Drew?’
‘Not Drew – his ship! And surely you know what degaussing is?’
‘I don’t – except the entire ship’s company gets a seventy-two-hour leave pass when it happens.’
‘De-gaussing is passing an electric current through the copper wire that’s fixed round the ship. It neutralizes it, sort of, so that mines won’t go off when they sail over one.’
‘Clever stuff – especially if you happen to be on a minesweeper like Drew is. Does it really work?’
‘It has done, this far.’ Daisy crossed her fingers. ‘I suppose they’re having a top-up, or something. So what shall we talk about?’ Daisy said very firmly.
‘Heaven knows!’ What was there to talk about that didn’t lead back eventually to Keth or Drew? Lyn brooded. Or more to the point, how Drew Sutton was crazily in love with Kitty, his cousin from Kentucky and had proposed to her and spent the night with her within the space of twenty-four hours? ‘I suppose we could talk about what we would do with a hundred clothing coupons; if we were allowed clothing coupons, that is.’
‘I’d rather talk about pay parade tomorrow,’ Daisy said. After all, pay parade every two weeks was just about the only thing you could be sure about!
Unspeaking, they walked past the shattered Palm House and on towards the ornamental lake. Life got tedious, sometimes, for those serving in His Majesty’s Forces, and often – much, much too often – very lonely.
Alice Dwerryhouse was well pleased. She had been to a salvage sale and come away with enough flower-printed cotton to make two dresses – one for Daisy and one for herself. And after thinking long and hard she bought five yards of pale blue fine woollen material, smoke-stained and in parts water-marked too. She had worried about the pale blue wool, washing it carefully, thinking she had been a fool to waste good money on something that could shrink into nothing as well as wasting precious soap flakes.
She need not have worried. It had blown dry on the line and come up fluffy and soft – and stain-free and pre-shrunk, into the bargain. Now Daisy could have a nice going-away costume and the beauty of salvage sales was that material sold there came not only cheaply but without the need to hand over clothing coupons for it! You paid your money and you took pot luck, she supposed. And it wasn’t very nice, if you let yourself dwell on it overmuch, that such windfalls were the result of some fabric warehouse being bombed and the bolts of wool and cotton knocked down for salvage.
She pulled the iron carefully over the pale blue length, trying hard not to gloat that now Daisy would not only have a proper white wedding dress but a going-away outfit too. Indeed, she sighed, coming down to earth with a jolt, all her daughter lacked now was a bridegroom and Keth Purvis was miles away in Washington.
It was all Hitler’s fault, though. Evil Hitler who was the cause of it all, and why the air force lads didn’t bomb him to smithereens she didn’t know. Or maybe, she thought, smiling wickedly, how would it be if the good Lord worked a crafty one so that Hitler and half a dozen mothers of sons and daughters away in the forces could be locked in a room for ten minutes. Ten minutes, that’s all it would take!
‘Alice! You were miles away. Penny for them!’ Julia Sutton closed the kitchen door behind her – Julia never knocked – then sat down beside the fire.
‘A penny? No, they’re worth much more than that!’ They were too, considering what she had just done to Hitler. ‘But there’s good news written all over your face – so tell me.’
‘Good news indeed! Were you going to put the kettle on?’
‘You do it. Just want to finish pressing this material. It’s come up real well, though I can’t say I didn’t have second thoughts after I bought it. But what’s happened?’
‘Drew and Kitty, that’s what.’ Julia set the kettle to boil. ‘Kitty phoned. Can I put up with the pair of them for three days, she said. Drew’s been given leave!’
‘Leave? A bit sudden, isn’t it? He’s not –’
‘Not going overseas? No, I don’t think so. Something that had to be done to the ship, she said. Very vague. You know what Kitty’s like. She didn’t even get round to saying what time before the pips went, but I take it they’ll be arriving on the six-thirty into Holdenby – if not before, of course, if they hitch a lift from York.’
‘And you’re still pleased – about them getting married, I mean?’
‘Delighted. Kitty is so adorable – she always was, come to think of it. Quite the naughtiest of the Clan, but such a way with her. You like her, don’t you, Alice?’
‘You know I do. I always did. We’re very lucky, you and me both.’ Carefully she draped the precious material to air, then folded the ironing blanket carefully. ‘And I’ve got news for you too. Daisy’s leave has been approved. She’ll be home a week from now. And I’m not supposed to tell you, so you’ll have to be very surprised when you see him in uniform. Tom’s been made a sergeant. There’ll be no living with him now!’ Alice smiled fondly. Tom – a marksman in the Great War; now a sergeant in the Home Guard. Funny how being married to him got better with each year. Different, but better. Two more years would see their silver wedding anniversary. Mind, she sighed, if the war hadn’t happened she could well have been a grandmother now.
‘Why the sigh?’
‘Oh, just thinking about Keth and Daisy being apart. I ought to be glad he’s where he is and not in the thick of the fighting, but I would, just once, like to see the six of them together again, just like they used to be when they were growing up.’
‘My Clan? Drew, Daisy, Keth, Bas, Kitty and Tatty. And five of them are in England now. Only Keth to will and wish home, then I shall take their photo again, just as I did in the Christmas of ’thirty-six. ’Thirty-seven, remember, was the last summer they were all together. And I’m sure they’ll be together again one day.’
‘When the war is over, happen?’
‘No, Alice. Long before then. I know it!’
‘Then fingers crossed that you’ll be right.’
‘I am.’ Julia stirred her tea thoughtfully. ‘Did you see it in the paper, by the way, that the milk ration is being cut?’
‘I did. It’s down to five pints a week now, between the two of us!’
‘We-e-ll, I suppose Home Farm will slip us the odd pint, now and again. It isn’t as though milk has to be brought here by sea. I don’t feel so bad about getting extra milk – not like sugar, or tea or petrol. Wouldn’t touch those. Wouldn’t risk a seaman’s life.’
‘I should think not, and us with a sailor son!’ Alice drained her cup, then upended it into her saucer, gazing at the tea leaves clinging to the sides. ‘Wish Jinny Dobb were here to read our cups. Jin wasn’t often wrong, was she?’
‘No. Dear Jin. It’ll be a year on the fifth of October since they were all killed – and a year on the tenth since Mother died.’
‘I know.’ Alice reached out for Julia’s hand. ‘I loved her too, don’t forget – I loved all of them. But they wouldn’t want us to fret. None of them would.’
‘Mm. And we’ve still got each other, you and me. Sisters to the end?’
‘Sisters,’ Alice said, gravely and gratefully, ‘to the end …’
‘Have you ever stopped to think, Gracie Fielding, that if this dratted old war goes on much longer you’ll be a time-served gardener?’ Jack Catchpole, sitting on his upended apple box, blew on his tea. ‘That is, of course, provided you don’t go getting any ideas about getting wed and wasting all the knowledge I’ve passed on to you!’
‘Married, Mr Catchpole?’ Gracie blushed hotly. ‘Now whatever gave you an idea like that?’
‘Gave me? When it’s sticking out a mile and that young Sebastian never away? Don’t know how he manages to get so much leave!’
‘Well, he won’t be able to get away so often in future. It was quite easy, once, but now the aerodrome – er – airfield, is ready, Bas says the bombers will start arriving soon and things will be different.’ A whole new ball game, he said it would be.
‘Ar. I did hear as how the Americans down south are already going bombing, and serve those Nazis right, an’ all! But young Bas won’t be flying bombers, will he?’
‘No. He wanted to, but his hands – well, his left hand in particular, put paid to that.’ She added a silent thank goodness.
‘Never mind. His hands didn’t stop him getting to be a vet’nary with letters after his name, so they can’t be all that bad. And it was a miracle he wasn’t taken in that fire like Mrs Clementina was.’
‘I never notice his hands, truth known,’ Gracie smiled.
‘Of course you don’t. Just a few old scars. Mind, I shall want to know good and early when you and him set a date. I shall take it amiss if you don’t let me do the flowers and buttonholes for you. And think on! We want no winter weddings when there’s only chrysanths to make bouquets of. See that you plan it for the summer when there’s flowers about.’
‘Mr Catchpole!’ Gracie jumped to her feet. ‘I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t think it’s at all wise to get overfond of anyone in wartime. You could get hurt. Look what happened to Tatty.’
‘Aye, poor little wench. But wisdom has a habit of popping out of the window, Gracie lass, when love walks in at the door, and don’t you forget it.’
‘I won’t. I’m not likely to. I’ve told you that often enough!’
‘Aye, but it seems no one has told young Bas. He’s a grand lad, you can’t but admit it.’
‘Yes, and he can get pipe tobacco in their canteen and he brings you some every time he comes. You encourage him!’ Gracie said hotly. ‘But you’ve no need to worry about losing me. I want to do my apprenticeship. I want to be a lady gardener when the war is over. I don’t want ever to go back into an office so you’d better accept that you’re stuck with me, ’cos I’m not going to marry Bas Sutton.’
‘Now is that a fact?’ Jack Catchpole slurped noisily on his tea. ‘Well, you could’ve fooled me, Gracie Fielding,’ he chuckled throatily. Oh, my word, yes!
2
The army car, camouflaged in khaki and green and black, turned sharp left and the driver stopped at a guard post where a hefty red and white gate barred their way.
‘Hi,’ the driver said laconically, offering her identity pass, even though she obviously knew and was known by the soldiers who stood guard. ‘One passenger, male.’ She turned to Keth. ‘Your ID sir, please.’
Keth fished in his pocket, offering his pass. The corporal of the guard switched on his flashlight, studying it in great detail. He handed it back, then shone the light full in Keth’s face. ‘Carry on, driver!’ he rasped, satisfied with the likeness.
Saluting smartly he motioned an armed guard to open the gate, winked at the driver, who winked back, then waved them forward.
‘Very officious,’ Keth remarked mildly, blinking rapidly as black spots caused by the torch glare danced in front of his eyes.
‘Just a couple more miles – and another checkpoint,’ the sergeant smiled. ‘Have your ID ready.’
The black spots were fading and Keth looked around him. The sun had sunk behind the hills, and in the half-light a crescent moon hung silver white at the end of a long avenue of tall pines.
The driver braked hard as a large bird ran across their path. ‘Damn it!’ she muttered. ‘I should have got it, but I always brake. Instinct, I suppose.’
‘What was it?’
‘A cock pheasant. Wish I wasn’t so squeamish. He’d have done nicely for the pot!’
She accelerated, drove at speed down the long, straight drive then slowed as they approached a second checkpoint.
This time only a pole barred their way; Keth offered his identification without being asked for it, closing his eyes against another beam of torchlight, which did not come.
‘’Night, Mick.’ The driver wound up her window then said, ‘There you are. Home sweet home, sir.’
Keth let out a whistle. Silhouetted against the sky it could have been Pendenys; Pendenys Place, Holdenby, but with more towers. Pendenys was in the North Riding of Yorkshire, though, and the great bulk ahead was in the wilds of Scotland. Somewhere in Scotland, and hidden and guarded and secret.
‘What’s it called?’ It was worth a try.
‘Home sweet home, sir, like I said.’
They slowed to a crawl as the car wheels crunched into the gravel of the circular sweep in front of the forbidding entrance.
Good security, Keth thought. Gravel made a lot of noise, even to walk on. It reminded him of the curving sweep of the drive at Denniston House, where Mrs Anna and Tatty lived, and he wished he were crunching up it now.
One of the massive double doors swung open, revealing a dimness beyond. The door closed again and torchlight picked them out.
The ATS driver got out, stretched, then rotated her shoulders.
‘Captain Purvis, sir – this way, please.’
Keth made to pick up the largest of his cases but it was at once grasped by a lance corporal and carried up the steps, together with his canvas bag, a second case and his respirator and steel helmet.
One, two, three … Mentally Keth counted the steps. Eight in all. He always counted steps as he climbed them; always had done. It irritated him, but still he did it.
The half-door grated open again, then slammed shut behind them. To his left an armed sentry sloped arms and stamped loudly as Keth passed.
This must, he reasoned, be the great hall. There had been a great hall at Pendenys with a floor patterned in highly polished tiles, massive arches and a grandiose staircase. The great hall in this secret Scottish castle was higher, its floor slabbed and worn and cracked in places. The staircase was oak, turned black with age, and a canvas strip covered its treads, though whether to protect the stairs or to deaden sound Keth couldn’t be sure.
To his right a massive iron fireplace crackled and spat wood sparks and it gave him strange comfort. He smiled his thanks to his driver who said, ‘Good night, sir. Good luck,’ then walked away down a long, echoing passage.
‘The CO is expecting you if you’ll come this way,’ said a regimental sergeant major, picking up Keth’s cap. ‘I’d take this, if I were you, sir.’
Keth thanked him, and settled it on his head, realizing he would be expected to salute.
They began to climb the stairs. Twelve steps up – dammit, he was counting again – the staircase branched to left and right. They turned left and the RSM knocked twice on the third door on the right.
‘Enter!’
‘Captain Purvis, sah!’ He did a smart about-turn, opened the door and closed it behind him with a bang.
Keth came to attention and saluted, all the while wondering about Pendenys and if army boots stamped all over Mrs Clementina’s floors and up her stairs and if everyone banged her doors like the muscular sergeant major.
‘Sir!’ Keth stared ahead, arms rigid at his sides.
‘At ease, Purvis. Take a pew.’ The brigadier nodded towards a leather chair opposite.
Keth sat, then removed his cap, placing it carefully on the floor at his side.
‘Good journey over? No bother?’
‘The best ever. The Queen Mary doesn’t waste time.’
‘Hm. Always fancied a trip on one of the queens. Comfortable, was it?’
‘Yes, sir, but very – er – basic.’
The liner had been stripped of all her luxury. A cabin intended for two now slept eight in iron bunks. He remembered his first luxurious crossing of the Atlantic in ’thirty-seven, then wiped all thoughts from his mind.
‘Drink?’ asked the senior officer. ‘We do manage to get the odd bottle of whisky from time to time.’ He rose to pour two measures.
‘A very small one for me; I haven’t eaten since morning.’
‘Water with it?’
‘Please, sir.’
‘Welcome.’ The brigadier raised his glass. ‘Good to have you with us.’
‘Thank you, sir. Glad to be here.’ How glad they would never know.
The brigadier had poured very small measures. He tilted his glass and drained it. Keth thought him a decent fellow but then perhaps he was a very senior boffin in khaki. Perhaps everyone here were mathematicians or scientists disguised as soldiers, just as he was.
‘How was Washington?’ He poured another small measure of whisky, nodding his head in the direction of Keth’s untouched glass.
‘Not for me, sir. I’m fine, thank you. And Washington has hardly changed.’
‘Hm. You were there before – at the Embassy?’
‘Yes, sir. In the cipher room. A civilian.’
‘And you volunteered to return – correct me if I’m wrong?’
‘I asked to be drafted home. I was told there would be conditions and I accepted them – though I don’t know yet what they are.’
‘All in good time. Tomorrow’s another day. Right now you’ll be wanting a kip, I shouldn’t wonder. Sorry you missed dinner but your batman will go on the forage for you.’ He glanced at his watch, a signal for Keth to get to his feet.
‘No hurry. Finish your drink.’ The brigadier pressed a button beneath the lip of his desk and almost at once the lance corporal who had carried in Keth’s kit appeared to stamp his feet and stand to attention.
‘Take Captain Purvis to his quarters, please.’
‘Er – good night, sir.’ Keth emptied his glass. ‘Thank you.’
‘’Night, Purvis.’
The interview was over and he had learned nothing save that tomorrow was another day when doubtless the conditions would be explained to him, and where he would be working, and with whom.
‘Will you be going down to the mess, sir, while I unpack your kit?’
He was being asked to clear off out of it and not make a nuisance of himself.
Obstinately he said, ‘No, Lance Corporal, I don’t feel like socializing tonight. But I would like a couple of sandwiches and a very large mug of tea. Milk, no sugar. And then I would like a bath and maybe, afterwards, make a phone call.’
‘Oh, deary me, sir.’ The batman shook his head mournfully. ‘The sandwiches and the bath – no trouble. The phone call, oh, no.’
‘But why ever not?’ Keth indicated the bedside telephone with a nod of his head.
‘That, sir, is only internal, between you and the switchboard. Won’t get you to the GPO, not that instrument.’
‘Then how do I go about it?’
‘Sir, you don’t. There’s a ban on outside calls. Only in the direst emergency would you be allowed one. But I’ll see Cook about your sandwiches. I might manage beef …’
‘Beef will be fine.’
‘Righty-o, sir. I’ll get them now, then I’ll come back and unpack for you while you have your bath. I believe you’ve come from the States?’
‘I have.’
‘Then you won’t know about baths, here. Six inches of water, no more, per person. There’s a black line painted around all our baths, and over that line we dare not go!’
‘Of course not.’ Keth bit on a smile, then rummaged in his canvas bag for his toilet things. He had brought several tablets of soap with him and rose-geranium bath salts for Daisy – a bottle of perfume too, to use on their honeymoon because as sure as God made little apples, they were getting married on his next long leave. ‘But are you sure there is no way I can phone my fiancée?’
‘Not that I know of, Captain. Letters is the only way and they’ll have to be seen by the Censor. Even ours.’ He shook his head dolefully. ‘But that’s what comes of working in a place like this. You take the downs with the ups, and since I was pulled off the beach at Dunkirk with one in the shoulder, I count my blessings, in a manner of speaking. Rather be here, for all its faults, than holed up in Tobruk or in a prisoner-of-war camp.’
‘Faults? You mean there’s nothing much to do here?’
‘Oh, there’s the recreation room and the NAAFI van comes twice a week. They bring ciggies and we’re allowed a couple of bottles of beer. But mostly it’s – well, you know what I mean, sir? I’ll see to your sandwiches. And if you’ll give me your soap bag I’ll reserve you a bath on the way down. It’s customary, around this time of night, to put your soap and towel in a bath, otherwise you’ll be unlucky.’
‘Thanks, Lance Corporal,’ Keth smiled. ‘And what am I to call you?’ He seemed a decent sort, in spite of his sorrowful expression.
‘Call me? Why, Lance Corporal, that’s what, sir! If you’ll pardon me, it doesn’t do to get too familiar here – what with the fluid nature of the place, if you get my meaning.’ He left the room, leaving Keth to wonder about the fluid nature of the place and why phone calls were strictly not allowed. Frowning, he picked up the telephone.
‘Switchboard,’ a female voice answered at once.
‘Can you tell me, please, how I can make a call to Liverpool?’ Dammit, it was worth a try!
‘See the adjutant, sir. He’ll refer your request to the brigadier,’ came the ready reply.
‘Thank you.’ Carefully, thoughtfully, he replaced the receiver. But hadn’t the brigadier said that tomorrow was another day, and with a couple of sandwiches inside him and a mug of tea, things would seem better. One thing was certain; no one here gave straight answers to straight questions and he hadn’t yet discovered the name of the place, nor where, in Scotland, it was located.
The lance corporal returned, looking even sadder, placing a plate and mug beside Keth, shaking his head gloomily.
‘Sorry, sir. No beef. You’ll have to make do with cheese.’
‘Cheese is fine.’
‘Then I’ll be back, sir, in ten minutes. Oh, and the adjutant’s compliments, and will you see him in his office at nine sharp in the morning?’
Keth bit into the sandwich, realizing how hungry he was and how surprisingly good the cheese tasted.
He kicked off his shoes then lay back on his bed. Even though the telephone mocked him, he knew there would be some way to speak to Daisy, tell her he loved her and that soon they would be married.
Darling, he sent his thoughts high and wide, I love you, love you, love you – and I’m home!
Drew and Kitty walked hand in hand beneath the linden trees.
‘I’m so happy,’ she sighed. ‘Everything is so perfect that sometimes I worry.’
‘Worry, when we’ll soon be married and you’ll be mistress of Rowangarth and we’ll live happily ever after?’
‘I’d rather be your mistress, but I suppose I am, really.’
‘No. You’re my lover,’ Drew smiled. ‘Are you truly happy about us, Kitty?’
‘Truly, truly happy. I don’t want to come down off my lovely pink cloud.’
‘You’ll have to, to marry me – and that’s another thing. When?’
‘Look, let’s sit down.’ She linked his arm, then entwined his fingers in hers, sitting on the stone seat at the side of the walk. ‘All this – you, me, meeting and loving, Rowangarth on a September afternoon – even the war can’t spoil it. It’s our own special world and no one has ever loved as we love, nor ever will. I love you and I’m in love with you. I’m so devastatingly happy that I want this gorgeous madness to go on for ever – can you understand, Drew?’
‘Of course. It’s the same for me too. But I want us to be married.’
‘We are married. We met on a scruffy dockside in a bombed city and all at once every light in Liverpool blazed brightly and I felt dizzy, and oh, Drew, I’ll never be able to tell you how wonderful it was, that first loving. That was when we were married, don’t you see? That very night we slept together. We’ve even got same names – Drew and Kitty Sutton.’
‘I want you to be Lady Sutton. I want Uncle Nathan to marry us. I want you to have my – our – children.’
‘And we will be married, of course we will, and we’ll have kids – four, at least. But, darling, I want this unbelievable happiness to last a little longer. Let me get used to being in love?’
‘And if I’m sent foreign – what then?’
‘Then we’ll get married on your embarkation leave, though wouldn’t it be just marvellous if Mom and Pop could be there? Oh, she’s delighted about us. She always knew my English half would get the upper hand and I’d marry an Englishman. I think she even secretly hoped it would be you, darling. So let me wallow deep in my pink cloud – just for a little longer? Let me stay starry-eyed – please?’
‘Kitty Sutton, you always speak in superlatives! You always did. To you, everything must be larger than life – even being in love.’
‘And you, my darling, are dour and sensible and you’re still reeling from the shock of being bowled over by my glittering personality. So why don’t you come and join me on my pink cloud? I stayed awake ages last night, thinking you might knock.’
‘Yes, and I lay there for ages, wanting to come to you.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Don’t know. Suppose I dropped off, eventually …’
‘No, you wanted to sleep with me, but when you think about it, darling, it wouldn’t have been right – not here, at Rowangarth.’
‘Me creeping along the passage, you mean, like we were using Rowangarth for a dirty weekend?’
‘Mm. We’d get caught, anyway …’
‘Yes. Those boards creak something awful in the upstairs passage.’
They began to laugh, then agreed that not for anything would they sleep together at Rowangarth until they were married. Any place else – every place else – but not Rowangarth.
‘When we get back to Liverpool,’ Kitty whispered, ‘will you have to go back on board right away?’
‘No. I’ll just report to the quartermaster, then push off to the Adelphi, I suppose. Shall you come with me, darling?’
‘We could spend the night at my digs. Ma won’t mind.’
‘The Adelphi would be better and I could sign the register Andrew and Kathryn Sutton without so much as a blush.’
‘And I’ll twist my ring round on my finger so it looks like a wedding ring and then everybody’ll be happy! And we’ve got to be together every minute we can, because you never know the day I’ll get sent to London. I’ve been expecting it for a while now.’
‘I’ll hate it if you go.’
‘Yes, but had you thought – I could lodge with Sparrow and it would be just great sharing the spare room with Tatty. Do you suppose Aunt Julia would let me?’
‘Sure of it. And I know Sparrow would like it too. But don’t let’s talk about you being sent away, Kitty – not till it happens?’
‘Okay. And when – if – it does, we’ll think about Daisy and Keth who are miles apart. At least you and I will be able to ring each other. We’ll have to do what your gran did; count our blessings and oh, Drew, wouldn’t she have been pleased about you and me? Didn’t she always just love a wedding?’
‘Mm. If I’m at sea, darling, will you phone Mother when it’s the first anniversary of her death next month?’
‘I will – word of a Sutton. And my bottom’s getting cold on this seat; let’s skip afternoon tea and go for a walk? Let’s go to the top of the pike so I can say hullo to Pendenys. And, darling, when we’re married and the war is over, will Uncle Nathan and Aunt Julia go to live there? Well, it’s his now, or will be when the military gives it back.’
‘Mother will only go there under protest. She doesn’t like Pendenys. Well, who would when they’ve lived all their lives at Rowangarth? But we’ll worry about that when the war is over and the Army gives it back.’
‘I’m surprised the soldiers are still there. I’d have thought Grandmother Clementina would’ve haunted them out of it ages ago.’
‘Kitty Sutton, I’m surprised at you! You’re getting as bad as the locals. It isn’t haunted. It’s just that the army lot are so secretive about what goes on there and it makes it sort of mysterious.’
‘What d’you think they’re really doing there? Spying? Cloak-and-dagger?’
‘Can’t make up my mind. There’s all sorts going on that most people don’t know a thing about. I’m sure Keth’s a part of something like that. He’s so vague when you ask him what he’s doing.’
‘Yes, well whatever it is he’s doing it in Washington, which is rotten luck for Daisy.’
She held out her hand and they began to run; across the lawn and the wild garden and over the stile, into the wood. And when they had passed Keeper’s Cottage and were hidden in the deeps of Brattocks Wood, they kissed long and hard.
‘I love you, darling,’ he whispered. ‘Have I ever told you?’
‘Not in Brattocks, you haven’t. So kiss me again and then we’ll climb to the top of the pike and you can tell me there that you love me. And I shall stand and shout it out to the whole Riding. Kathryn Norma Clementina Sutton loves Andrew Robert Giles Sutton and they’re going to be married in All Souls, and you’re invited to the wedding, all of you!’
‘I do love you,’ Drew laughed. ‘Don’t ever change, will you? Don’t ever stop being dotty?’
And she said she wouldn’t, then asked him to kiss her again.
Keth blinked open his eyes, looked questioningly around him, then realized he was in a castle in Scotland and that he was home!
‘’Mornin’, sir.’ His batman had opened the blackout curtains and placed a large mug of tea at his bedside.
‘’Morning, Lance Corporal.’ Keth stretched, then swung his feet to the floor, making for the window. All around were wooded hills and in the distance, the glint of early-morning sun on water. The loch they had passed on their way here, perhaps?
‘What did you say this place was called?’
‘I didn’t, sir, but you’ll doubtless be told. It’s Castle McLeish.’
‘And it’s – where?’
‘Somewhere in Scotland, Captain, though if you was to press me, I’d tell you it was in deepest Argyll and more than that I’m not prepared to say.’
‘And who lived here, before the Army took it?’
‘A gentleman who made his money from whisky. He passed the business on to his two sons, then came here to spend the rest of his days in peace and solitude – or so he thought. But now he lives in a croft about five miles away and both his sons are in the Navy. It’s a funny old world, isn’t it?’
‘A funny old world, Lance Corporal.’
And a wonderful world with Daisy only hours away. Argyll. On the west coast of Scotland and directly north of Liverpool by about two-hundred-odd miles! So near, and if only he could find a telephone she would whisper that she didn’t believe he was home again and it was true, wasn’t it? He really was home? And when was he getting leave and when would they be married?
‘When you’re shaved and dressed, sir, I’ll explain the geography of the castle.’
‘Oh – er – yes. Think you’d better.’
‘It’s a rambling, up-and-down sort of place. You could get lost in it and not be found for days. You’ll want the mess, then the adjutant’s office. One in the east wing,’ he said, mournfully, ‘the other in the north tower. Them stone floors play havoc with your feet.’
‘I’ll survive,’ Keth grinned.
‘Yes, sir. Let’s hope so. Some do.’ And some didn’t. His melancholy was on him again. He’d seen them come and he’d seen them go and all of them fine, upstanding young men. Yes, and women, too, which wasn’t right, to his way of thinking. ‘They’ll be serving breakfast now, if you’d like me to show you the way …?’
When Keth returned to collect his cap in readiness for his visit to the adjutant, he found his bed made, his room cleaned and the windows open to the September morning.
And it was a beautiful morning, he thought, breathing deeply on the brisk, tangy air. His whole world was set fair and if he was not to be given a posting to England, then this beautiful part of Scotland would suit him very nicely – once he had sorted a few things out, like where and with whom he would be working – and phoned Daisy or, at the very least, written her a letter. Somewhere in Scotland, he would head that letter, and when she opened it her cry of disbelief would be heard on the other side of the Mersey.
He straightened his tie, brushed away a speck, then tucking his cap under his left arm, made for the north tower and the adjutant who would answer all his questions and explain the intricacies of phoning your girl and why there was such an air of secrecy over the place. He found the north tower with no trouble at all and knocked firmly on the door marked ‘Adjutant’.
‘You’ll be wondering why you are here,’ Keth was asked when pleasantries had been exchanged and hands shaken.
‘Not really. I put in a request for a posting home and I suppose I’ll be doing what I did before. What I really want to know is how I can phone my fiancée, and I’d like an address to give her when I write. She doesn’t know I’m back, you see, and –’
‘And you’re impatient to get in touch? Well, I’m sorry, but there’ll be no phone calls and no letters – at least, not with this address on them. You can write,’ he hastened, prompted by the agonized expression on Keth’s face, ‘but you will have to write your letters exactly as if you were still in Washington. No hints that you’re in UK; nothing to give the game away.
‘This office will have them censored and appropriately franked, and your young lady will receive them in due course and be none the wiser as to your whereabouts – and that’s the best we can do, I’m afraid.’
‘But I don’t understand. I used to work at Bletchley Park and I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, because it’ll all be on my service sheet. And I imagined – wrongly, it seems – that I would take up where I’d left off. Before Washington, I mean …’
‘Yes, it’s all here.’ The adjutant opened a drawer, taking out a bulky folder. ‘You have a knowledge of, er, Enigma?’
‘As much as the next man. Nobody knows, really, what’s going on in that direction – not all of it,’ Keth said guardedly.
‘But you are familiar with Enigma?’
‘I’ve done my fair share of code-breaking.’ Watch your tongue, Purvis!
‘Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe codes – yes. But how about the U-boat codes? How familiar are you with them?’
‘Now look here,’ Keth flung, all at once on his guard, ‘I signed the Official Secrets Act not so long ago, so if you want to know what went on, I suggest you quiz someone else.’
‘Your attitude does you credit, Captain, but I know what goes on at Bletchley; I know there’s a fair amount of success with the German army and air force codes, but I know they can’t break the naval code and it’s become a raging priority. Orders from the Cabinet Office, in fact.’
‘We did break the U-boats’ code – sometimes,’ Keth offered uneasily. ‘It took a lot of doing, though, for some reason. Only managed it a couple of times a week and very often what we gained was yesterday’s knowledge.’
‘Exactly. And we’d rather like to be more up-to-date on it. Either that,’ he shrugged, ‘or we’re going to lose the entire merchant fleet in the Atlantic, and Hitler will have done what he wanted to all along: bring us to our knees by starvation. Our shipping losses are phenomenal and we can’t go on losing ships the way we are. We think there is a variation between the machines used by the Army and Air Force on the one hand and the Navy – which includes U-boats – on the other, and that is why you are here, Captain.
‘From now on your sole preoccupation will be the breaking of the U-boats’ code and that is all I can tell you at the moment. During the next few days the MO will take a look at you, assess your fitness. It’ll be likely you’ll need a day or two toughening up. Your file indicates that you’ve done a small-arms course and the usual rifle drill and are fairly familiar with other forms of self-defence.’
‘Like what?’ Keth scowled.
‘Like using a hand grenade and a basic knowledge of booby traps and explosives.’
‘Self-defence? Sounds more like commando stuff to me. But yes, I did go on one or two courses, though what use they were was always a bit of a mystery.’
‘You’ll find out – in time. Meanwhile, I’ve fixed you an appointment with the medical officer. Be there at ten. It’s likely he’ll prescribe a spot of PT and a few cross-country runs. Oh, and see the dental officer, will you? Best that you should.’ He folded the file with a finality that indicated that the interview was over, then rose to his feet. ‘And don’t look so perplexed. It’ll all be crystal clear by the end of the week.’
Indeed, thought the adjutant, it would have to be.
‘End of the week? Okay – I’ll accept that but –’ Keth raised his eyes to those of the adjutant and held his gaze steadily, ‘but just tell me one thing. Is this another of those peculiar billets – like Pendenys Place in Yorkshire, I mean?’
‘And what do you know about Pendenys?’ He lowered himself into his chair, his gaze as steady as Keth’s.
‘Not a lot and most of it rumour, I suppose. The locals think something is going on there – and it’s securely guarded, like here, and like this place it’s secluded.’
‘You’ve been to Pendenys, then?’ The adjutant reached for the file again.
‘Many a time – but before the powers that be took it off Edward Sutton. I live near there. I’m engaged to the daughter of the head keeper on the next estate.’
‘To Daisy – er – Dwerryhouse, who’s in the WRNS?’
‘Yes.’ Keth looked down meaningfully at the open file. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘Very well – if I must! When you came back to England from Washington – the first time, I mean – you met her down south. You were stationed briefly at Bramble Hill, not far away. And you stayed the night with her at a Winchester hotel. You’ll not want me to tell you that you signed in as Mr and Mrs Purvis. You were under surveillance even then!’
‘That’s enough!’ Keth was on his feet again, his face an ugly red. ‘I know all about the Official Secrets Act and the Defence of the Realm Act too, but leave Daisy out of it – okay? What she and I do is damn all to do with you, or anybody else for that matter! Did it give you a kick, reading through my file? Because you’ll know we stayed the night at a Liverpool hotel too, not long before they sent me back to Washington without the chance to say goodbye to her – like it was some stupid cloak-and-dagger thing!’
All at once that hotel room with its cornflower and poppy bedspread and curtains and the electric fire that guzzled shillings seemed to have been dirtied.
‘No, we don’t seem to have any record of that one,’ said the adjutant mildly, ‘but by then you’d have been pretty well cleared security-wise. Your fiancée is in the clear too.’
‘I should damn well think so! And all this because of Enigma! Have you got my mother’s blood group in your records too?’
‘Steady on, Purvis. Nobody sees these records but the high-ups – and me. And you got it right. This place – and Pendenys, if you must know – are very secure establishments, so your details are safe here.’
‘I couldn’t give a damn one way or the other!’ Keth was calmer now, though his heart still thudded much too loudly. ‘But leave Daisy out of it – right?’
‘And you calm down, Purvis or –’
‘Or you’ll put it on my file: given to sudden rages!’
‘Not on this occasion. But if I were you, I’d take a turn in the garden – do a spot of deep breathing, sort of – or your blood pressure isn’t going to look too good when the MO takes it. And Purvis –’ he hastened as Keth opened the door, ‘don’t take this to heart. It’s nothing personal. We like to know everything about our operatives – we have to – so you’d better get used to the idea that what you do during the next few days here will probably be closely watched and recorded.’
‘Remind me to let you know, then, every time I flush the toilet!’ Keth hissed. Then closing the door again, leaning on it in what he hoped was a perfectly controlled and relaxed pose, he said softly, ‘Just what goes on here?’
And the adjutant, equally controlled, replied that he would be told very soon.
‘Thank you – sir!’
Keth opened the door again, then closed it behind him very quietly. Then he shut his eyes tightly, took a deep breath and said, ‘Arrogant bastard!’ He even permitted himself the smallest smile, thinking that his words might have been heard – and noted on his file!
And why was he worrying? he thought, as he walked through the immaculately kept grounds. He was back – for the second time. He had asked for a draft home, had accepted there would be conditions attached to it, so why get het up over the adjutant? They had to be careful till they had cleared him – a second time. He must accept it. It was the price to be paid for getting back home. To Daisy. He was to carry on his work with Enigma. He was a mathematician – a boffin, a back-room boy – doing his bit for the war under the disguise of a captain in the Royal Corps of Signals. And as soon as his security check was okayed, he would know exactly what went on, what was required of him and how soon he would be allowed that phone call to Daisy.
Calm again, he looked at his watch. Best cut along sharpish. Best not keep the MO waiting.
3
‘Pity we missed Drew and Kitty,’ Tatty sighed.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Daisy firmly. ‘Well, from your point of view, I mean.’
Daisy, home from the Wrens on seven days’ leave; Tatiana Sutton, home for two nights from her translator’s job in London.
‘Why isn’t it?’
‘Because you’re hurting still over Tim, and seeing them together would have been awful for you. I miss Keth till it hurts, but at least I’ll see him one day. You don’t even have that to hold on to.’
‘No. Just memories. I often wonder what would have happened if I’d got pregnant. Sometimes, I wish I had; it would have been some part of Tim. I know there’d have been the usual upset – Tatiana Sutton getting herself into trouble, and all that cant – but I wouldn’t have cared. Grandfather left me comfortably off – I could have kept the little thing.’
‘Well, you didn’t have Tim’s baby, love, but if you had I’d not have pointed a finger. It could’ve happened to me and people who live in glass houses don’t throw stones.’
‘You’re a good friend. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about Tim and I appreciate you going up the pike whenever you can to let him know he isn’t forgotten. I got up early this morning and went there. I felt very near him.’
‘Good.’ Daisy reached for Tatiana’s hand and they walked on, glad to be together for just a little while. ‘How’s London, by the way – and Sparrow?’
‘London’s okay; better, now that we don’t get so many air raids. The Blitz was awful. I feel like a Londoner now. There’s so much kindness about – everyone being nice to each other; smiling, and all that. It’s because we’ve been through all that bombing together, I suppose.’
‘I know what you mean. I felt very close to the Liverpool people, knowing I’d seen their blitz out with them. You and me have really grown up, haven’t we, Tatty?’
‘Me especially. I defied Mother and Grandmother over Tim and then I walked out and went to London. I only wish Tim and I could have been married – even though it would have been only for a little while.
‘And another thing – Uncle Igor is quite nice to me these days. I go and see him every week now. At first I did it because I felt sorry for him – all alone in that house in Cheyne Walk – and I suppose I went because I wanted to find out about my father.’
‘What about him?’ Daisy said sharply. Not that it was any business of hers, but she was as sure as anyone could be there was something not quite right about Tatiana’s father, even though he’d been dead for ages. For one thing, both Mam and Dada changed the subject if, innocently, she had mentioned him and for another, Aunt Julia’s mouth went positively vinegary when anyone said Elliot Sutton’s name. ‘Did you find out, whatever it was you wanted to know?’
‘Oh, yes, I did. Uncle Igor couldn’t stand him. He said he warned my mother not to marry him, but she was determined to have him – and all the while Grandmother Petrovska and Grandmother Clementina encouraging it. It seems that Grandmother Clementina was so rich she could buy anything she wanted and she wanted a title in the family.’
‘Hm. By things I’ve heard – in passing, sort of – I believe she had money but no – er – well, she was a little bit bossy.’
‘Grandmother Clementina had, as they say around these parts, plenty of brass, but no breeding. I’d believe it, too. What little I remember of her was that she was a bit – well – loud. Anyway, my mother had a title. In Russia in the Czar’s days, the daughter of a count was entitled to call herself a countess and Grandmother Clementina seized on it like it was the answer to all her dreams. A real countess at Pendenys Place! Uncle Igor thought it was pathetic.’
‘And what else did he tell you?’ Daisy was intrigued.
‘I’ll tell you – one day. Right now, I’m enjoying being home – when I can keep out of the Petrovska’s way, that is. I wish she’d take herself back to London and look after Uncle Igor at Cheyne Walk, but I think she’s still scared of the bombing. I notice Uncle Igor isn’t falling over himself to persuade her back. I think he’s quite contented on his own. He lives in the basement kitchen now. The rest of the house is closed up except for what was once the servants’ sitting room, next to the kitchen. That’s where he sleeps.’
‘I wonder why Mrs Clementina ever bought a house in London,’ Daisy frowned. ‘She hardly ever used it.’
‘A whim. That’s all it was. Did you know,’ Tatiana giggled, ‘that when the Petrovska and Mother and Uncle Igor first went to live there – when they had to get out of Russia because the Communists took over – Grandmother Clementina complained bitterly that Eastern European refugees had taken over the property next door, and the value of her own house would go down.’
‘I bet she soon changed her mind about her next-door neighbours when she found they had titles! Is Cheyne Walk as nice as Aunt Julia’s little house in Montpelier Mews?’
‘No. The Cheyne Walk house is much, much bigger and not half so cute. I love being at Montpelier with Sparrow. She’s a darling. We might even have Kitty living with us if she gets sent down to London to work.’
‘You won’t get yourself upset though – Kitty going on and on about Drew, and you – well …’
‘Loveless, and wanting Tim? No. That part of my life – and it wasn’t much more than three months, remember – is most times locked up inside me. I only let it out when I feel very brave, but one day I’ll be able to think of him without hating the world, I suppose. Sparrow says I will.’
‘Mm.’ When Tatiana talked about Tim, Daisy felt guilty because Keth was safe in Washington and it made her want to hug her friend and tell her she understood, but there was still a coldness around Tatiana that warned everyone away.
‘Well, that’s life, as they say.’ Tatiana’s attempt at a smile failed dismally. ‘And here we are at the crossroads so do we go to Denniston or your place?’
‘Whichever you want.’ Daisy would rather not go to Denniston House because Countess Petrovska always looked at her in a very peculiar way. As if, almost, the daughter of a gamekeeper had no right to be best friends with the daughter of a countess. And that was very stupid of her, Daisy thought hotly, when that gamekeeper’s daughter was rich enough to buy the entire Rowangarth estate and Denniston House too, had she wanted to.
But she tried not to think about the money because it must not be allowed to come between her and Keth. Hardly anyone knew about it; only her parents, Aunt Julia and Drew and Keth – not even Keth’s mother knew. Money left to her by an eccentric old bachelor when once they lived in the New Forest. Money that never seemed quite real because she had only got it legally on her coming-of-age last June, and now there was nothing to spend it on because the shops were empty and Wrens were not given clothing coupons, so she couldn’t go raving mad and buy a fur coat – just for devilment, of course!
‘Hey!’ Tatiana was snapping her fingers in front of her nose and Daisy blinked and smiled guiltily. ‘You were miles away in a trance!’
‘No. In Washington,’ Daisy said without so much as a blush. ‘So where are we going then?’
‘Your place,’ said Tatiana promptly. She liked Daisy’s parents and she loved the cosy kitchen and always being made to feel wanted. ‘And you never showed me what Keth gave you for your twenty-first. A case full of make-up, you lucky dog! Are you sure you won’t use it till your honeymoon?’
‘Absolutely sure. I keep it in the pantry where it’s cool so none of the pots of cream will go off. It would be awful if they did.’
‘They’ll be all right, but shall we just have a gloat over them and maybe a sniff? It’ll be positively sinful to see so much make-up all at once. It’s ages since I got even a pot of cold cream. I suppose that now Keth’s been sent back to America he’ll be sending you silk stockings and all sorts of things.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a few pairs of stockings, for going out in, I suppose, but such a lot of parcels get torpedoed these days, crossing the Atlantic. Mind, the last one Kitty’s mother sent from Kentucky got through, and would you believe it, she had sent glace cherries? Tilda was speechless – well, she hasn’t been able to make cherry scones for ages, there being no cherries in the shops. I shouldn’t wonder if she didn’t bake some for Drew, when he was on leave.’
‘They were lovely days, weren’t they?’ Tatiana sighed. ‘When we were all young, I mean, and Bas and Kitty came over on one of the liners and the Clan was together. Will we be together again, do you think?’
‘Yes, we will. There are five of us here already. Whoever would have thought Bas and Kitty would make it to England with a war on, an’ all? And Aunt Julia says she feels it inside her that Keth will get home too. She’s getting as bad as Jinny Dobb, but oh, if only he could come back …’
They had climbed the far fence of Brattocks Wood and were standing beneath the elm trees where the rooks nested. Daisy looked up at the big black birds that circled overhead.
‘Have you ever told it to the rooks, Tatty?’
‘Told what to the rooks?’
‘Oh – things. Special things like secrets and wishes and fears – anything, I suppose. They always keep secrets and sometimes I think it helps to tell them your worries.’
‘Isn’t that a bit pagan?’
‘No. Country people often do it. Some people tell things to the bees, but Mam and I tell it to the rooks.’
‘Your mother does it?’
‘Yes. Always. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Aunt Julia doesn’t have the odd word with them from time to time, even though she’s the wife of a vicar!’
‘But how do you do it?’ Tatiana wasn’t at all sure that Grandmother Petrovska would approve of such things, her being devoutly Russian Orthodox still, and always crossing herself and praying to her icon.
‘Well, you lean your back against the tree – any tree where rooks nest, then you put your arms behind you, palms touching the tree and you close your eyes and you do it.’
‘But what if someone saw you, or heard you?’
‘Oh, they’d have you branded a witch and it would be the ducking stool for you!’ Daisy gave a shout of laughter. ‘You don’t actually say things out loud. You think them and your thoughts go up to the rooks.’
‘And it works?’
‘I’m not sure – but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’
‘And could I talk to Tim?’
‘No. You’d need a medium for that, and only Jinny Dobb was any good at it.’
‘And Jin’s dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘The same night as Tim died. When his bomber crashed.’
Daisy nodded her head. She didn’t want Tatty to talk about that night.
‘It’ll soon be a year since he died, Daisy.’
‘I know, love. But Reuben died that night too, and your Grandfather Sutton and Mrs Shaw and Jinny.’
‘And all Tim’s crew!’ Tatiana’s mouth set traplike. ‘Bastard Germans!’ she hissed.
‘Don’t, Tatty …’
‘Don’t hate that pilot who shot Tim down? So what do you think I’m made of – grit and granite?’
‘No, I don’t. You know I don’t.’ Daisy grasped her friend’s hands, squeezing them tightly. ‘I hate them too for what they did to Reuben that night. He was the nearest I ever got to a grandfather and I loved him every bit as much as you loved your Grandfather Sutton!’
‘But it was special between Tim and me. Grandfather Sutton and Reuben and Mrs Shaw and Jin were old. Tim had hardly lived!’
‘Tatty – please. I’m sorry we came here, started this. I shouldn’t have told you about the rooks.’
‘Yes you should and I’m glad you did! Oh, I’m not going to tell them how much I love Tim – not yet, anyway – because I’m too bitter inside me. But show me how you do it, because I’m going to tell those rooks how much I hate German fighter pilots who shoot up an aerodrome just because it’s a wizard prang and how especially I hate the one who got Tim’s plane.’
‘If you think it will help, but I don’t think the rooks much like bitterness and hatred. Leave it, Tatty? Leave the fighter pilot who killed Tim to God, why don’t you?’
‘Yes. I’m being awful, aren’t I? And I suppose I should remember that Tim’s plane dropped bombs on the Germans – and maybe killed old people like Grandfather Sutton and Reuben, and little children, too …’
‘Yes – well that’s what wars do to people like us, Tatty. Mam says the old ones make wars and the young ones have to fight them. And let it come, love, if it’ll help.’ She gathered her friend to her as tears filled Tatiana’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. ‘Let’s give the rooks a miss today, and tomorrow we’ll go up the pike. You’ll be nearer to Tim up there.’
‘Yes. That was where he died.’ She dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose furiously. ‘Thanks for being so nice about it, Daisy. It’s awful trying to be normal when you know you’ll never be normal again.’
‘I know, love. You’ll feel a lot better once we’ve heard the curlew call at the top of the pike.’
‘I will, won’t I? And do I look awful? Will your mother know I’ve been crying?’
‘No, Tatty. You don’t go all red and blotchy when you cry like I do. And if you did, she would understand. Don’t forget Mam knows what it’s like. For a whole year she thought Dada was dead.’
‘Yes, and for almost a whole year I’ve known Tim is dead and that I’ll never see him again. But I’m glad for the time we had together, Daisy. No matter what, no one can take that away from me.’
‘No, love. And no one who cares for you as much as I do would ever want to. So let’s go and see Mam and have a look at my make-up?’
‘Okay.’ Tatiana looked up sharply as a bomber flew low overhead. ‘See it, Daisy? That’s a Halifax, a new one. They’ve got them at Holdenby Moor to replace the old Whitleys.’
‘Do you still do your aircraft recognition, Tatty?’
‘I do. If it flies, I can tell you what it is – ours or theirs. Come to think of it, why didn’t I join the ATS as an aircraft spotter? I’d have done very well at it.’
‘Well, you’re stuck with being a translator now. We’re both of us stuck with what we’ve got for the duration. And who’s to tell, Tatty, maybe you were intended to go to London? Maybe it was in your stars that you should.’
‘And meet someone else, you mean? Oh, no!’
‘I didn’t mean that. But you’ve made friends with your Uncle Igor, haven’t you, and somewhere in London something might just happen to at least help you to come to terms with losing Tim.’
‘Help me accept what I can’t change, you mean?’
‘Something like that – yes. I hope you will, Tatty. I can’t bear to see you like this. And maybe there’s some truth in what Mam always says – that nothing lasts; not the good times nor the bad. Maybe soon it’s going to be your turn for something good to happen.’
‘Maybe. And I really am learning to count my blessings, Daisy. Did you know I’m helping the WVS now; a sort of escort. I’ve done it twice. It was Sparrow’s niece Joannie started me off. She asked me to do it as a favour the first time, and I’m thinking of doing it regularly: taking airmen out. I don’t mean dating them, but they’re mostly aircrew, in need of an escort, really. And don’t look so bemused. The first time I did it I was shattered; didn’t think it was for me. But then I felt so sorry for them, you see.’
‘Wounded airmen, you mean? You go to the hospital and talk to them and walk with them?’
‘No. They could walk fine, those I met. But they have been in hospital and now they’re going out some, you see. Facing the world again, I mean.’
‘Facing the – Tatty, you don’t mean they’ve been burned?’
‘I mean just that. They’re all young men, Daisy, and some of them look awful. It’s mostly their hands and faces. Their hair and their ears are just fine; protected by their helmets. But their poor faces – oh, the first time I saw them I felt sick inside.’
‘Were they so bad, then?’
‘Yes. Their features all gone. But that wasn’t why I felt awful, Daisy. We were going to the theatre, you see – me and three other girls and four airmen. It was their first time out of hospital blues and into their uniforms again. And it was the first time they’d been out since – since it happened.’
It must have taken a lot of doing – for them, I mean.’
It must. Like I said, I felt sick, but I didn’t let it show. I smiled when I was introduced to my airman. I looked right into his eyes and smiled and do you know what, his eyes looked relieved. His face didn’t, because he can’t smile yet. But his eyes smiled.
‘He was a navigator called Sam. He held his arm out so gallantly, and I took it because that man could have been Tim. My wonderful Tim could have looked that way, and just for a second I was glad that he hadn’t suffered like that.’
‘I know what you mean, Tatty. All of them intelligent and good-looking – then for that to happen is awful.’
‘Yes. I know Tim dreaded it. Do you know he once said to me that he’d rather die than fry?’
‘Tatty! Don’t say such things!’
‘Tim said it, not me. Most aircrews say it. It made me cry so much he promised never to say such a thing again. And he got his wish in an awful kind of way. At least it was clean for him, and quick.’
‘Tatty – don’t. Tim wouldn’t want you to be like this.’
‘No, but he’d have wanted me to go out with those wounded airmen because they are worse than wounded, Daisy. They said there’s some wonderful work going on – skin-grafting and things like that. They can even build up noses again. Sam said he was glad about that because his original nose was awful. Said he hoped he got a better one second time round.’
‘I don’t know how he could joke about it.’
‘Nor me, because it isn’t just their poor faces that are wounded, it’s their pride too. Sam got a bit serious and told me that when he was in hospital, the girlfriend of the airman in the next bed came to visit and she started to scream and make a fuss when she saw him. He said the Ward Sister just got hold of her and all but threw her out. The girl never came back. She wrote later, and broke it off.
‘So they are really marvellous and that’s why I shall go out with them and dance with them and help them to come to terms with what’s happened. They’ll learn to accept it, I hope, and that special hospital helps a lot. But it’s still awful for them. Tim would have hated it.’
‘Oh, lovey!’ Daisy reached for her friend, hugging her, blinking away tears that filled her eyes. ‘Tatty Sutton, you’re a truly lovely person and I know why Tim loved you so much. He’d be proud of what you are doing.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so, and I’m proud of you too! So let’s go to Keeper’s and take a peek at my make-up – and why I’m saving it I just don’t know!’
‘I do,’ Tatiana whispered. ‘And thanks, Daisy.’
‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘For being my friend – and for understanding. And tomorrow, before I leave, we’ll go to see the rooks – okay?’
‘The good old rooks,’ Daisy smiled. ‘You bet we will!’
Keth had not done so much writing since his student days. He put down his pen, rubbing the back of his hand, frowning.
He would be gone for ten days, they told him – certainly no longer than two weeks. So write your letters to the people you usually send them to, they said; address them and date them as if you were still in Washington, and write them as if you were still in Washington too.
‘But my mother and fiancée will carry on writing to that address – I won’t get any letters!’ he had protested.
‘They’ll be redirected to you. You’ll get them – eventually.’
‘But why? And where am I going for ten days?’ Surely not another stupid course trying to make a soldier out of him when all he was good at was mathematics and code-breaking.
And then an awful thought filled his head and he quickly dismissed it because they couldn’t be sending him to make another parachute jump? He shuddered to remember the last, the only, jump he had made; tried to shut out the look of disbelief on his instructor’s face. And far worse than that had been the awful bruising he got on landing and how lucky he was, he’d been told, not to have been badly injured, and to go back to signalling because surely he was better at signalling than parachuting out of a plane!
‘Where you’re going you’ll know when you’ve been kitted out,’ he was told. ‘And you can leave your stuff here because here’s where you’ll be coming back to.’
‘I see,’ he’d said, but he hadn’t understood a word of it because they still weren’t giving straight answers to straight questions. All he knew was that the muscular sergeant major he encountered on his first night at Castle McLeish was a drill instructor who supervised assault courses and who took great delight in putting officers with soft hands through it time and time again. He could also be very insulting – respectfully insulting, that was!
So Keth had written two letters to his mother and four to Daisy and he would have to write at least two more because usually he wrote to Daisy every day.
Two of the letters he had supposedly written from Kentucky where he was having a weekend with Bas and Kitty’s parents, told how delighted they were that Kitty and Drew were engaged and how sad Mrs Amelia was not to be having the time of her life organizing engagement showers and fussing over her daughter’s trousseau. He felt all kinds of a heel as he wrote them.
Trouble was, he had seen no evidence yet of anything in the least familiar to him. As far as he was concerned, Castle McLeish was little better than a drill camp and Keth Purvis was being toughened up for something that this far had nothing to do with Enigma nor bombes nor code-breaking. Something, somewhere, didn’t fit and the more he thought about it, the more apprehensive he became.
If only somebody would say – in answer to his oft-asked question – ‘Yes, Purvis, this is what you are here to do,’ then go on to explain exactly what it was they wanted of him and why he was going away for ten to fourteen days. It was a simple enough request to make but it had not been answered. Nor had anyone looked him straight in the eye and that, he decided, was what made him even more apprehensive.
Well, he’d had enough! He laid down his pen, picked up his cap, in case it became official, and made his way to the mess where he knew he would find the adjutant. And he would have answers to his questions; eyeball-to-eyeball answers, or his name wasn’t Keth Purvis!
He had waited his time in the mess; waited until the adjutant was alone, then walked across the room to face him.
‘A word, if you please – sir!’
The adjutant recognized the narrowed eyes and jutting jaw and asked him if it wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.
No, Keth said, it wouldn’t. Either he got a straight answer now to a couple of questions he wanted to ask or he would put in a request to see the Commanding Officer!
That was why he sat here now, in the outer office. Wait, he had been told. The Commanding Officer would see him in just a minute. The minute had stretched out to fifteen; the customary waiting time for all subordinates intent upon wasting the CO’s time. A heel-cooling period.
Yet Keth did not want to cool down. He wanted to know why he had come from Washington only to do physical jerks and be ignored when he asked the sane and sensible question: what the hell was he doing here?
The phone on the ATS sergeant’s desk rang. Keth wondered why every army girl here was a sergeant. This one was a good-looker; hair like Lyn Carmichael’s. She smiled and told him to go in. He jumped to his feet, hoping his stare hadn’t been too obvious, then knocked on the door she indicated.
‘Enter!’
Keth closed the door behind him, came to attention and saluted.
‘At ease, Purvis.’ He was not invited to sit, so he stood feet apart, relaxing his shoulders, hands behind back. ‘Now the way we do things here, Purvis, is not to make a b nuisance of ourselves. We speak only when spoken to and we don’t ask questions – right?’
‘Sir …’ Keth acknowledged cautiously, because he had been speaking out of turn and he had made a nuisance of himself, he supposed.
‘Has the nature of what goes on in this establishment been lost on you, then? Did you never wonder why you had been asked to leave letters behind you?’
‘Yes. And I wondered – with respect, sir – what kind of a course I was going on, for about a fortnight. I thought I would be doing the work I did at Bletchley Park, but I can see no indication of it here.’
‘Enigma, you mean? Well, you’re right. We only know about Enigma here. We know about a lot of things.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Keth’s mouth had gone dry. He was beginning to wish he had left well alone.
If you’d kept your mouth shut for just another day, I could have given you the whole story, but since it seems you can’t,’ the senior officer paused to let his words sink in, ‘since you want to know why you were brought back from Washington, I’ll tell you.
‘We had your card marked, Captain – just in case we wanted something done by someone who had a working knowledge of the Enigma machine. And then we found we did and we want you for a courier’s job. And please let me finish,’ he snapped as Keth opened his mouth to speak. ‘There are any of a dozen other men could do the job and a damned sight more efficiently than you; men who don’t ask questions nor throw their weight about as you have been doing! But none of those men has your knowledge of Enigma, you see.’
‘Courier?’ Keth breathed, running his tongue round his top lip. ‘Deliver something?’ Was that what all the fuss was about, for Pete’s sake?
‘No. We – They – want something picking up. From occupied France.’
‘Ha!’ Keth’s body sagged. Then he straightened his shoulders, stared ahead and asked of the regimental photograph on the wall, ‘And if I don’t want to be parachuted into occupied France, sir?’
‘Then you can start packing your bags now and I’ll guarantee you a seat on the very next plane back to Washington! You asked to return to UK. You knew there would be conditions attached. You were specifically told so! What’s the matter with you, man – got a yellow streak?’
‘No, sir. Only when it comes to parachuting!’
‘Hm. Understandable, I suppose, when your one and only jump was an utter fiasco, according to your records. That’s why you won’t be parachuting in.’
‘Then that’s fine, sir.’ He didn’t like being called yellow.
‘I’m glad, because you’ll be leaving here tonight. SOE will kit you out and brief you. It will be in no way dangerous. All you have to do is pick up something and bring it back. It’s the operators in the field who’ll be taking the risks.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Of course it wasn’t dangerous. He hopped over to France every week of the year! ‘Am I to start packing my kit?’
‘No. Leave it all in your room. Anything personal or private you will place in an envelope, seal it down, and initial the flap. One of your drawers has a lock and key. Lock anything away that you want to and give the key to the adjutant when you leave. Afterwards, you’ll be coming back here so you can pick up your bags before you move on – back to Bletchley. Any questions?’
‘Just how will I be – er – going in, sir?’
‘All depends. On weather conditions. It’ll either be by Lysander – that’s an aircraft,’ he said, as if explaining to an idiot that a Lysander was an extremely efficient, small, light aircraft that could land on a postcard, almost, ‘or by sea – the submarine boys will put you ashore. Like I said, it’ll all depend.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’
‘Right, then. Dismissed.’
Keth remembered to salute, to do an efficient about-turn, then left the room, also remembering to smile and nod his thanks to the red-haired sergeant on the desk, as if what he had just been told hadn’t knocked him for six!
Then he opened the door of his room, sat heavily on the bed and gasped, ‘Flaming Norah!’
4
Telegraphist Drew Sutton, having handed over the middle watch to his opposite number, stripped off to his underpants and swung himself into his hammock. Hammocks were very adaptable. On a boat as small as HMS Penrose, you slung them wherever there was a space, be it in the mess or beside the engine-room bulkhead. Hammocks moulded themselves to your body and gently swung you to sleep with every rising and falling of the Penrose’s bows. Double beds, on the other hand; large, sinful double beds with soft shaded lights either side, took a lot of beating.
He smiled into the darkness. Kitty Sutton. From Kentucky. His kissing cousin and the woman he would marry just as soon as he could get her down the aisle. At this moment, Kitty was wallowing in being in love. She was in love with love and didn’t want to spoil it, he suspected, by getting married. Yet they were morally married, he supposed. If sharing a bed on every possible occasion constituted a marriage, then they were well and truly wed. And he could understand Kitty’s reasoning. To her, he supposed, sleeping together in delightful sin was more thrilling, more risqué, than the church-blessed union after which you not only could sleep together as much as you wanted, but were expected to do so. The intonations of a priest, the pronouncing of them man and wife was all very well, but his adorable Kitty, he was almost sure, preferred the former and the element of risk it carried with it.
Take Thursday night. He smiled fondly. She had stood demurely beside him as he signed the hotel register Andrew and Kathryn Sutton, Rowangarth, Holdenby, York. She had fluttered her eyelashes coyly, and the new lady receptionist—who didn’t know Drew at all—asked her, if Modom wouldn’t mind, of course, to produce her identity card.
Drew pulled in his breath and hoped she wouldn’t blush furiously. And Kitty had not blushed at all! Having, on her arrival in the United Kingdom, acquired a British ration book and a British identity card which stated she was Kathryn Norma Clementina Sutton of Rowangarth, Holdenby, York – her official English address – she placed it on the desk with the sweetest of smiles and said she wouldn’t mind at all!
Then the red-faced receptionist had stammered her apologies, explaining that one couldn’t be too sure these days, and she hoped Mrs Sutton would forgive her.
At which Kitty smiled even more sweetly, pocketed her identity card, and all at once very serious, said, it’s Lady Sutton, if you don’t mind.’
Then she swept to the lift, jammed her finger on the button, leaving the squirming receptionist looking for the smallest crack in the floorboards in which to hide.
‘Kitty Sutton, you really do take the plate of biscuits!’ Drew had collapsed, laughing, on the large, bouncy bed beside her, imploring her never to change; always to be his outrageous, adorable Kitty. She had laughed with him and promised him she never would, then proceeded to undress with indecent haste.
‘Kitty.’ He whispered her name softly. It would be strange, in church, marrying Kathryn Norma Clementina when it was really Kitty he was in love with. His life now could be divided into two phases; before Kitty and since Kitty – and he wondered how he had even remotely existed before the night, barely three months ago, when she came back into his life like a hurricane. He was still breathless from the impact.
The same ATS sergeant drove Keth away from Castle McLeish in the same car in which he had arrived, only this time he sat in the back seat. He sat there because he needed to think and uppermost in his mind was SOE, which any fool knew was Special Operatives Executive and differed from MI5 and MI6 in that it was concerned solely with getting agents into occupied Europe, listening for their W/T call signs and getting them out again when they had completed their operation or when it became imperative to remove them quickly for their own good. The Army, the Royal Air Force and the Royal Navy, Keth knew, all co-operated in the delivery and collection of those agents. You didn’t work with Enigma and not know it.
Now, it seemed, either the Submarine Service or the Royal Air Force was taking him to France – ostensibly as an unimportant messenger, charged only with making a collection. There would be little risk to himself, he’d been told, and he grasped that assurance to him like a warm, comforting blanket.
On hearing his immediate destination he had, after the initial shock subsided, written two more letters to Daisy, then addressed nine envelopes, two to his mother and seven to Daisy. In the last letter, dated ten days ahead, he told her that the course he had been sent on was almost finished and soon he would have a more permanent address to give her.
Then he posted the unsealed envelopes in a box not unlike those used by the general public which was marked, Missives for Censoring but which really meant Stick your love letters in here, chum, to be read by the po-faced adjutant.
He had disliked the adjutant at Castle McLeish on sight, labelling him pompous, upper class and insensitive; wondering when it would be his turn to be deposited into occupied Europe; hoping it would be very soon! Yet Daisy was worth it. Just to think of her mellowed his mood.
He said, ‘I don’t suppose you are allowed to tell me where you are taking me this time, Sergeant?’
‘No, sir. Just another place Somewhere in Scotland – about an hour away.’
He could hear the smile in her voice so he said, ‘And did they give you those stripes for being button-lipped?’
‘Yes, sir, they did – and I don’t want to lose them.’
‘Well,’ he expanded, ‘I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving Castle McLeish – for a while, at least. Especially I won’t miss the adjutant. Is he always so snotty?’
‘No, sir. Far from it.’ Keth sensed the sudden edge to her voice.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, Captain. He’s one of us – really one of us. He’s done more drops into you-know-where than I dare tell you. About six weeks ago his wife was killed in an air raid. They haven’t sent him back since. He has children, you see.’
Keth did not speak for the remainder of the journey.
The only train into and out of Holdenby Halt on a Sunday bore Tatiana away to York and thence to King’s Cross. Daisy stood and waved until the little two-carriage train disappeared round the curve in the track, then she cycled back to Keeper’s Cottage, thinking that during the next seven days five of Aunt Julia’s Clan would have been to Rowangarth, though not all at the same time, of course. Drew and Kitty had been and gone, then she, Daisy, arrived on leave and the day after, Tatiana had come home on one of her rare weekend visits.
And then Bas phoned, begging a bed for the night. Kitty’s brother Bas was real sweet, Kitty said, on Rowangarth’s land girl, Gracie. Gracie, on the other hand, was giving Bas a run for his money, though Jack Catchpole reckoned it was only a matter of time before he caught her.
Daisy looked forward to seeing Bas again. She had last seen Sebastian Sutton in the late summer of ’thirty-seven when she stood at the waving place where the railway line ran alongside Brattocks Wood for about thirty yards. Exactly five years ago. She and Bas had grown up since then. She smiled, wishing the Clan could be together again, just once for old times’ sake. But the Clan was incomplete because Keth had been sent back to Washington and only the Lord knew when he would be home again.
She missed Keth desperately. A part of her would have given anything to have him back; the other part – the sensible part – wanted him to stay safely in America and no matter how long the war lasted, she always reasoned, she would at least know he would come home safely and that one day they would be married.
She told herself she was lucky; that Tatty would have given ten years of her life to know that one day, no matter how far away, she would see Tim Thomson again. Tatiana Sutton, the spoiled and cosseted child, had grown into a woman who once loved passionately, then dug in her stubborn English heels and defied her Russian mother and grandmother, taking herself off to London out of their meddling reach. Tatty lived at Aunt Julia’s little white house now, with Sparrow to care for her, to understand and love her without reservations as only Tim had done.
Probably, if Kitty was sent to London to join up with ENSA, she would live at the little white mews house, too. It would be good for Tatty – provided Kitty didn’t talk too much about how happy she was, and about getting married to Drew. But Kitty Sutton never did anything by halves. It wasn’t in her nature. Bubbling, volatile Kitty, whom everyone noticed the minute she stepped into a room; sparkling, notice-me Kitty, whom Drew loved desperately. She would be good for him, Daisy thought as she pedalled down Keeper’s Cottage lane. Drew had always been serious. He’d changed some since joining the Navy, but then you had to adapt. If you didn’t, life in the armed forces could be hell.
‘Hi, there!’ Gracie, carrying cabbage leaves, making for Keeper’s Cottage and the six hens she looked after at the bottom of the garden, beside the dog houses. ‘Just going to see to the hens – are you coming?’
Daisy said she was; she liked Gracie.
‘Did you know Bas will be over at the weekend?’
‘Yes. He told me. Twice. Once in a letter, then again on the phone.’
‘My word – letters and phone calls,’ Daisy teased. ‘Where’s it all going to end?’
‘Heaven only knows. Sometimes I think I should finish it all; times like now, I mean, when I can think straight. But when we’re together it’s an altogether different ball game, as Bas would say.’
‘It’s called being in love, Gracie.’
‘Well, I’m not in love! You know I won’t fall in love till the war is over!’
‘Then you should try it. You might even get to like it.’
‘Even though we might be parted, like you and Keth? And I haven’t got all day to stand here talking. Mr Catchpole will be giving me what for for wasting time. Here!’ Carefully she put four brown eggs into Daisy’s hands. ‘Take these to Tilda, will you? And don’t drop them!’ And with that she was off, up the garden path, making for the wild garden, striding out defiantly.
Never going to fall in love? Daisy thought, shaking her head. But Gracie had fallen for Bas the minute they had met, did she but know it. Pity, she thought, about that Lancashire common sense of hers getting in the way.
‘See you!’ she called, but Gracie strode on.
Another isolated, heavily guarded house, Keth thought; about thirty miles west of Castle McLeish if the position of the sinking sun was to be relied upon and the speed at which they had travelled. In this house there was more of an urgency in the air and, for once, the first question he asked had been answered with surprising frankness.
‘How long will you be away, Purvis? Just as long as it takes, I suppose. There’s a submarine flotilla not far from here and that’s how you’ll be going in. You might think things are ponderous slow when you get there, but you’ll only have one contact – two, at the most. You’ll just sit tight. Things get passed down the line, sort of. Better that way. And don’t think that being a courier is paddling ashore, swopping passwords, then paddling back to the submarine. It’s never that straightforward.’
‘No.’ They were sitting on the terrace, drinking an after-dinner coffee and brandy in the most civilized way; so ordinary and normal, Keth thought, that he couldn’t believe that soon he would assume another identity and be sent to –
‘Where exactly am I going – or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘Not out here. We’ll go inside. It’s getting cold, anyway.’ The man, dressed in civilian clothes and whose name Keth did not yet know, picked up his glass then murmured, ‘My office, I think it had better be.’
When they were seated either side of a log fire and their glasses topped up, Keth said, ‘France, I gather.’
‘Yes – occupied France.’
‘Good. I speak the language passably well.’ Better than passably. Tatty’s governess, herself French, had seen to that such a long time ago, it seemed. When Keth Purvis had lived at Rowangarth bothy, it was; before the war when Rowangarth garden apprentices lived there and were looked after by his mother – and she glad of the job. ‘I don’t suppose I’d fool the locals, but I could get away with it with a German.’
‘Then let’s hope you don’t meet any. Oh – and you’ll have to see the photographer first thing in the morning. Your papers are ready, except for that. Better see the barber too. Your haircut looks a bit English, I’m afraid. Apart from that, there’s a resemblance to Gaston Martin about you.’
‘That’s whose ID I’ll be taking? A pretty ordinary name, isn’t it?’ The surname Martin was as common in France as Smith was in England.
‘Nevertheless, Gaston Martin does exist. He was invalided out of the French artillery just after Dunkirk. Deaf, in one ear – remember that. But you’ll be given details.’
‘And where is he now?’
‘He’s here, in the UK. He got taken off the beaches with our lot and our lot invalided him out. He’s working in North Wales, so you’re not likely to cross each other’s paths – not where you’ll be going, anyway.’
‘That’s a relief.’ Keth was glad of the brandy because ever since he’d been told about France, his stomach had felt distinctly queasy. He wondered if he would sleep tonight or lie awake turning it over in his mind, telling himself he was a damn fool.
Yet a bargain was a bargain. They had told him when he asked to be sent back to England there would be conditions attached and he accepted without a second thought; anything to get back to Daisy. But not in his craziest dreams had anything embraced cloak-and-dagger stuff, because that’s what this escapade boiled down to; downright bloody stupid, to put not too fine a point on it. Times like now, he could accept it – just. But how would he feel when they dumped him on some dark beach? Not very brave, he knew.
‘When it’s over and done with – well, what I’m trying to say is – when I’m back, what’s going to happen? To me, I mean.’
‘You’ll pick up where you left off – at Bletchley Park. I take it you don’t want to go back to Washington?’
‘I don’t! I’m only in this predicament now because I wanted to get home.’
‘Getting cold feet?’
‘Got! I’m not the stuff heroes are made out of, I’m afraid; but conditions They said, and conditions I accepted.’
‘Good. Only a fool isn’t – well, slightly afraid. And in SOE we don’t ask for heroes. We’d rather our operatives stayed alive. I hate sending women in, you know,’ he said gruffly, picking up the brandy bottle, asking, with a raising of his eyebrows, if Keth wanted another. And Keth, who drank little, nodded and pushed his glass across the table.
‘Good man. Help you to sleep. And don’t worry, we aren’t trying to recruit you.’
‘Then why now?’ Keth tilted his glass.
‘Might as well tell you now as tomorrow or the next day. We knew of your request – to come back to UK, that is – and you wouldn’t have had a hope in hell if we hadn’t needed a specialist, so to speak. You’re familiar with Enigma.’ It was a statement.
‘Yes. It’s still something of a hit-and-miss thing – breaking their codes; well, breaking the naval codes.’
‘Exactly. That’s the whole crux of the matter. Luftwaffe and Wehrmacht codes are little problem, or so I understand.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But the naval codes – well, we can gather in their signals with no trouble at all. What is so annoying is that they chatter all over the Atlantic airwaves – especially the U-boats – and there’s damn-all we can do about it. Can’t break ’em.’
‘We can, sir, but most often it’s too late.’
‘Far too late for our convoys, yes. We’re losing one merchant ship in every four that crosses the Atlantic and it’s got to stop. It’s immoral!’
‘So I’m to be part of an operation that’s going to get hold of an Enigma machine the German Navy uses?’
‘Yes. But don’t get butterflies, Purvis.’
‘I’ve already got them and they’re wearing clogs!’
‘Then don’t worry – at least not too much – because we think we’ve managed to get hold of one. Don’t ask me how or where. One thing we don’t do is expect our radio operators over there to transmit long-winded messages. But the information this far is that one is ready for collecting. That’s why we need someone like you to check it over and bring it back. I take it you’d know what you were looking for?’
‘No. But I’m familiar with the ones their Army and Air Force use, so I reckon I’d spot anything different.’
‘Then that’s all we ask. Churchill would give a lot to break the U-boats’ codes. We can’t go on losing ships the way we are, nor the men who crew them.’
Keth agreed, then asked, ‘So you don’t know the exact location of the machine?’
‘Only approximately. Like I said, our wireless ops in the field don’t waste time on claptrap. They set up their sets, hook up their aerials and make their transmissions as fast as they can. The Krauts have got special detector units and they like getting hold of one of our men – or women. That’s why our lot don’t go round like Robin Hood and his Merry Men. They’re mostly loners. The fewer operators they know, the better. You’ll rely on your contact and trust him, or her. Your contact will tell you only as much as you need to know, so don’t ask questions, or names, because you won’t be told. I understand,’ the older man chuckled, ‘that you asked a lot of questions at Castle McLeish.’
‘I suppose I did, but I’m learning.’ Keth tilted his glass again. ‘Can I ask when I’ll be going?’
‘In about forty-eight hours.’
It was, Keth supposed, like going to have a tooth filled, only worse. He drained his glass then got to his feet. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I think I’m ready for bed now.’
‘Yes. Off with you. By the way, you don’t usually hit the bottle, do you?’
‘Hardly ever. But on this occasion, it has helped calm the butterflies. Good night, sir.’
‘’Night, Purvis.’ The elderly man watched him walk carefully to the door, relieved to find himself thinking that the young officer, inexperienced though he was, would fit the bill nicely. Strangely dark, he brooded. Black hair, black eyes. Gypsy blood, perhaps?
‘Purvis!’ he called.
‘Sir?’ Keth’s face reappeared round the door.
‘Any didicoy blood in you?’
‘No,’ Keth grinned. ‘My mother was a Pendennis. Cornish. They’re a dark people.’
‘Ah, yes.’
Didn’t take offence easily, either. And no matter what they’d said about him at Castle McLeish, he liked him. Purvis should do all right – as well as the next man, that was …
Grace Fielding was picking the last of the late-fruiting raspberries when a tall shadow fell down the rows. Without turning she said, ‘Hullo, Bas Sutton.’
‘Hi, Gracie. Marry me?’
She put down her basket and turned impatiently.
‘No, I won’t – thank you. And you always say that!’
‘Can you blame me when you always say no?’ He tilted her chin, then kissed her mouth.
‘And you can stop that in working hours!’ He always did it and in public, too! ‘Mr Catchpole’s going to catch you one day and you’ll be in trouble!’
‘No I won’t. I’ve just seen him – given him some tobacco. I shouldn’t wonder if he isn’t sitting on his apple box right now, puffing away without a care in the world.’
‘You’re devious, Bas Sutton, and shameless.’ She clasped her arms round his neck, offering her mouth because even if Mr Catchpole were not sitting on his box, smoking contentedly, the raspberry canes hid them. And she did like it when he kissed her, and she wanted nothing more than to say yes, she would marry him; would have said it, except for just one thing. Her sort and Bas Sutton’s sort didn’t mix. Not that she was ashamed of her ordinariness. She was what she was because of it and she loved her parents and her grandfather. She even loved Rochdale, though not quite as much as Rowangarth.
Rowangarth. Bas was sprung from the Rowangarth Suttons – the Garth Suttons, Mr Catchpole called them. His grandfather Edward Sutton had been born at Rowangarth, even though he married into Pendenys. And the Pendenys Suttons had the brass, she had learned, and one day Bas would inherit that great house – or was it a castle? – simply because his Uncle Nathan, who owned it now, had no children and in the natural order of things, the buck would stop at Sebastian Sutton – or so Bas once said.
But even if Bas refused Pendenys, he’d be rich in his own right because one day he would inherit one of the most prosperous and prestigious studs in Kentucky, while Gracie Fielding lived in a red-brick council house and would inherit nothing except her mother’s engagement ring. And the silver-plated teapot that had come to her from a maiden aunt.
‘What are you thinking about? You were staring at that weather cock as if you expected it to take off.’
‘I – oh, I was thinking it’s time for Mr Catchpole’s tea so you’d better kiss me just once more, then you can stay here and finish picking this row till I call you. And don’t squash them. They’re for the house, for dessert tonight, and Tilda Tewk doesn’t like squashy fruit!’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He kissed her gently, then whispered, ‘I love you, Gracie.’
He always told her he loved her because one day she would let slip her guard and say she loved him too. One day. And when it happened, he would throw his cap in the air, climb to the top of Holdenby Pike and shout it out to the whole Riding!
‘I’m sure you do, Bas Sutton,’ she said primly. ‘But in the meantime get on with picking those rasps!’
‘You’re not interested in the candies I’ve brought you, or the silk stockings or the lipstick, then?’
‘Pick!’ she ordered, then laughing she left him to find Jack Catchpole, who was puffing contentedly on a well-filled pipe.
‘I’ve come to make the tea,’ she said. ‘Bas is carrying on with the picking.’
‘Ar. He’s a right grand lad, tha’ knows.’
‘I’m sure he is, but that’s between me and Bas, isn’t it, and nobody else!’
She stopped, horrified at her cheek, her daring, but Mr Catchpole continued with his contented puffing and his wheezy chuckling and didn’t take offence at all. Because he knew what the outcome of it all would be, despite the lass’s protestations. He’d said as much to Lily.
‘Mark my words, missus, young Bas isn’t going to take no for an answer. Things alus happens in threes and there’ll be three weddings round these parts, mark my words if there isn’t.’
And in the meantime, may heaven bless and protect GIs who brought tins of tobacco every time they came courting his land girl!
‘Make sure it runs to three mugs, Gracie lass,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘And make sure I get the strongest!’
Life on an mid-September afternoon could be very pleasant, be danged if it couldn’t – even if there was a war on!
Бесплатный фрагмент закончился.
