Her Secret War Read online

  ‘Of course, yes, though it’s usually for a good reason, such as health or age,’ Sarah replied.

  Vera handed Sarah her tea. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, just curious. I’ve always worked in all-female offices. Was wondering what it was like, that’s all.’

  Vera rolled her eyes. ‘To be honest, some of the lads are just big kids at heart. Us girls tend to avoid them outside the office.’

  ‘Are office relationships discouraged?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Not officially, but I’ve never indulged myself so I’ve no idea if it leads to a telling-off.’ Vera gave her a knowing look. ‘Has someone in Wages caught your eye?’

  Sarah sipped her tea. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Tell me more. I can be discreet.’

  ‘Rob McArthur has asked me out a few times but I’m not sure about him. I went out with him once but came away puzzled. The fact is, I learned little about him.’

  Vera shrugged. ‘Rob’s a nice enough lad and works hard. He’s not long in the company and I don’t know him that well. But I do suspect one thing.’

  Sarah’s heart leaped. ‘Oh, what’s that?’

  ‘I reckon he’s a lot younger than he makes out. He’s always messing around with the other lads or flirting with the girls, but sometimes it’s as if he’s putting on an act. Not that that should put you off. Could just be nerves.’

  ‘And has he ever mentioned where he worked before or where he is from?’

  ‘He has brought up Kent a few times in conversation, so I assume that’s where he is from.’

  Sarah nodded, but she was disappointed; she already knew that much. How far could she probe without drawing attention to either Rob or herself? She reckoned she only had a few more minutes before the others arrived for their tea. She’d risk it. ‘He said some things which surprised me; political comments about the war.’

  No reaction from Vera except another shrug. ‘I can’t recall hearing him say anything like that, but then I don’t have lunch with the lads or go for tea break with them. Perhaps he is trying to impress you, Sarah. You know what lads are like.’

  ‘Yes, that must be it,’ Sarah said.

  Before she could ask anything further, the cast piled in, led by Martin, clamouring for tea and biscuits.

  It was Friday lunchtime. Sarah spotted Rob’s tall form straight away. He was next in the queue in the canteen and she could not believe her luck. He had proven elusive the last few days, and she had despaired that the right opportunity might never arise.

  As she approached, he turned around and greeted her with a friendly grin. ‘Hello there, stranger.’

  ‘Hi, Rob. How are you?’ she replied with her most winning smile.

  ‘All the better for seeing you, Sarah. I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. Really busy; you know how it is.’

  ‘I do. Here, let me get you a cuppa. Save you queuing with these reprobates.’ Rob nodded towards his colleagues ahead of him and grinned again.

  ‘Thanks, that would be super.’

  ‘Would you like anything else?’ he asked, indicating where the canteen staff were dishing up the food. With a shake of her head, Sarah held up her paper bag with her sandwiches. He glanced over her shoulder. ‘The other girls not with you today?’

  ‘They were down earlier.’

  Rob smiled. ‘Won’t you join me, then? I’m sick of the sight of these lads. I wouldn’t mind some civilised conversation for once.’

  ‘Sure, thanks; I hate eating alone. I’ll grab a table,’ Sarah replied.

  Heart thumping as if it would explode from her chest, she quickly scanned the room. This was going far better than she could have imagined. She spotted a small table at the back, away from most of the other staff. Sitting down, she opened her bag of sandwiches but her appetite had suddenly vanished. She kept her eyes on Rob as he progressed through the queue. If only she could like him. But the knowledge he was a Nazi sympathiser coloured everything else. Rob was always friendly, but it had a forced feel to it, and the expression in his eyes, as if he were constantly analysing her, was rather disconcerting. Even before she knew about his ulterior motive in getting to know her, there had been no fizz of excitement when she saw him, and that evening in the pub she had been uncomfortable and, worse still, bored. Now she had to resign herself to the fact that she would have to lap up his political ramblings and pretend to agree with them. Even worse, she would have to feign attraction to him, just as he was pretending to like her. It was almost comical. Above all, this was going to be so difficult; it went against everything she believed in when it came to matters of the heart. If he was who Northcott claimed, he deserved to be exposed and she would be doing the world a favour. Of course, there was the added incentive that the alternative to helping Northcott was too awful to contemplate.

  As Rob made his way towards her, Sarah pasted a smile on her face, her heart beginning to pound. Well, she’d always dreamed of being a consummate actress; here was her chance to give the performance of a lifetime.

  ‘Thank you, Rob, that’s very kind of you,’ she said as he placed the cup of tea in front of her, before taking the seat opposite.

  ‘Do you always take your lunch this late?’ he asked, stirring sugar into his tea.

  ‘No. There was an urgent job and I wanted to complete it. The Dragon is a stickler when it comes to finishing jobs. A batch of drawings had to go to the printers by three o’clock and I didn’t want to be the one to hold things up.’

  Rob sat back in his chair with a smile. ‘I’ve heard she’s a hard taskmaster, all right.’ He took a sip of tea. ‘Is it always that pressurised, or are you particularly busy at the moment?’

  Sarah stiffened. She didn’t want to appear too eager to give information. ‘No more than usual. New designs coming through all the time. The RAF is insatiable.’ She picked up a sandwich and forced herself to eat.

  ‘Yeah, so I’ve heard. I can’t imagine why they keep wanting to change things. Surely the Spitfire can’t be improved?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m sure whatever changes they make must be necessary.’

  Rob narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. ‘But what kind of changes? I mean, the Spitfires that won the Battle of Britain were top class.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not an engineer, just a tracer. It’s keeping us all in a job, so we really shouldn’t complain.’

  Rob nodded. ‘Yes, indeed. But you are enjoying the work? Glad you came here?’

  ‘No regrets so far.’

  ‘All the same, it must be different to living in Ireland. I know we speak the same language, but we have quite different histories … and points of view.’

  Sarah wasn’t sure what he was driving at. Steady, girl, be careful! ‘But a shared history, too.’ She looked at her watch before draining her cup. ‘I’m sorry to rush off, but I ought to get back,’ she said, standing up. ‘Thanks for the tea.’

  ‘Do you have to go so soon?’ he asked, disappointment in his eyes as he looked up at her.

  ‘Sorry. I can’t afford to linger; I’m still on probation.’ She hoped he would discern regret behind the words, but she didn’t want to seem too keen to stay. He might become suspicious after her previous coolness.

  Rob rubbed his chin, his expression sympathetic. ‘I understand; I’ve only just passed mine. But, before you rush off, I was wondering if you are interested in art by any chance?’

  ‘I know little about it, Rob, to be honest. Why?’ she replied.

  ‘A friend of mine has paintings in an exhibition for young artists. Nothing grand, but he’s awfully good and would appreciate the support. I have two tickets if you’d like to go along. It’s on Sunday afternoon in Winchester.’

  Sarah gave him a bright smile, her fingers crossed behind her back. ‘That sounds great! Something different to do. Thanks, I’d love to go.’

  18

  17th October 1941, Farley Mount

  The sky was almost black as Sara
h reached Farley Mount on Friday evening. It hadn’t been the easiest place to find with road signs removed. At first, all she could discover was that it was located west of Winchester. Luckily, she had come across a local map at Uncle Tom’s and had made a quick sketch of the route when no one was around. For the entire journey she had worried that she hadn’t made sufficient progress for Northcott. If displeased, how would the man react? Here she was, miles from home, about to meet a man she knew next to nothing about. She felt extremely vulnerable. To add to her woes, the rain had started during the twenty-minute cycle from Hursley. It was a drizzle at first, but by the time Sarah spotted Northcott’s car pulled up at the base of the monument, her coat was soaked through and her mood was close to foul.

  Sarah left her bicycle against a tree and obeyed the come-hither summons from Northcott, sitting in his nice dry car. No rain-drenched bicycle ride for him. Pulling open the passenger door with a jerk, she greeted him, her tone short. ‘Evening.’ Sarah pulled the door shut and sat staring ahead.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Gillespie.’ Northcott glanced at her, his eyes straying to her damp and drooping beret. Sarah glared back at him, ready to scold if he made a nasty comment. Whatever he was about to say died on his lips, though they twitched in amusement. Northcott turned his gaze out towards the shadow of the mount and Sarah simmered.

  While she regained her composure, she followed his gaze. Sarah could make out the silhouette of what looked like a church spire at the top of the hill. ‘What is this place, Captain?’ she asked at last.

  ‘A ridiculous folly built by a man with more money than sense. In honour of his horse, would you believe.’ Northcott snorted.

  It was on the tip of Sarah’s tongue to say something scathing about the English gentry and their quirks, but she thought the better of it. Northcott was obviously from such a background. No one rose from the gutter with an accent like that. Instead, she shifted in her seat, uncomfortably aware of the dampness seeping through her coat and into her dress. ‘I would be grateful to know what it is you wish me to do, Captain. I need some guidance as I’ve never acted as a spy before.’

  ‘I understand your concern but I have every faith in you. At the first opportunity, you must reignite your friendship with McArthur and gain his trust, whatever it takes. Most of all, you must encourage him to discuss politics as much as possible. If you hint that you have republican leanings, I think he will fall for it. If we are right about his intentions, he will be easily lured into revealing what he wants from you.’

  ‘You make me sound like Mata Hari!’ she said in dismay.

  Northcott half-twisted in his seat, his lips a tight line of displeasure. ‘Are you taking this seriously, or not?’

  Despite being annoyed with him, Sarah felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t!’ She flicked her hand out and skimmed the skirts of her coat. ‘Nor would I have ventured out on this filthy evening on a bicycle unless I had resolved to do as you ask.’

  Northcott harrumphed. ‘I have no control over the weather. However, if you are squeamish about a little rain—’

  Sarah wrung her hands and took a shuddering breath. ‘I’m sorry; it’s been a long week and I’m tired. But I’m a lot tougher than I look and you think. I can do this.’

  ‘Excellent, excellent! I have no doubt you will unmask this scoundrel for us.’ Northcott’s fingers drummed the steering wheel. After a moment, he continued: ‘The easy part will be reconnecting with McArthur. He has been systematically trying to find a co-conspirator amongst the tracing girls. You see, there is no one suitable for his needs in the Drawing Office. There’s only one female employed there, and she’s in her fifties.’

  ‘Would that deter him?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘It would appear seducing older women is something he wishes to avoid,’ he replied with a quirk of his lips.

  ‘That would make sense. It would look odd and give rise to gossip. I can’t imagine he would want that,’ Sarah said. ‘But how do you know what he has been up to? Is someone feeding you information from within Supermarine?’

  ‘I have my sources,’ he replied.

  Fine – keep your secrets, she thought. Sarah ran through possible Northcott collaborators. Ruth was still top of her list. No one else jumped out, but it was something she would give plenty of thought to when she had the chance. If he had help within Supermarine, she would be watched, and reports sent back to him. She would have to be careful. Tempting as it might be to confide in someone, even Gladys, she could not risk it. Best not to trust anyone.

  ‘How long has Rob been trying to find someone to help him?’ she asked. ‘Am I to understand no one was interested in him? Difficult to believe, for he’s a good-looking fellow,’ she said.

  ‘According to the information I have, he was only a week at Hursley before he focused in on the tracing girls. Whether or not they were interested is irrelevant. That none suited his needs suggests romance was not his aim. His behaviour set off alarm bells and he has been watched ever since. It would appear once he found that the girls in question were useless to him, they were dropped,’ Northcott said. ‘He is clever, Miss Gillespie; don’t underestimate him. I assume he is testing the water with each potential target to find—’

  ‘A dupe?’

  Northcott rolled his shoulders. ‘To find a willing accomplice. Someone with your background will have his antennae twitching, and with your access to drawings you are ideally placed to help him.’

  ‘Hence the many efforts to persuade me to go out with him, despite my reluctance.’

  ‘Precisely. You are perfectly positioned to help him and I’m sure the possibilities have him salivating. Romance is the easiest way for him to find his helper, though these fellows aren’t above paying for secrets, so don’t be surprised if he should offer. Anyway, I’m sure I don’t need to point out, this should make your job easy.’

  Sarah almost laughed out loud. Easy!

  ‘Well, as it happens, I have made some progress. I am accompanying him to an art exhibition on Sunday in Winchester.’

  Northcott swung right round, eyebrows raised. ‘I’m impressed, Sarah. Good work. You see; you’re a natural.’

  Sarah puffed. ‘That’s hardly a compliment. I hate deceit.’

  ‘But it is for the right reasons and therefore justified. Think on that and how good it will feel when he is revealed to be a traitor. This is perfect. I know how much you want revenge for what happened to your family. Tell me, how did you manage it so quickly?’

  Sarah explained about meeting Rob in the canteen.

  ‘Excellent. I look forward to your report next week, Sarah. Time is of the essence; I cannot stress that enough. Be encouraging; do whatever you have to do.’

  ‘But I cannot offer him plans just like that. Wouldn’t it be suspicious?’

  Northcott gave her a stern look. ‘Of course it would. You wait until he suggests it. You must let him think he has persuaded you to act. I imagine he will encourage you to regard England as your natural enemy. McArthur will play on your republican sympathies – very well, you don’t need to glare at me like that! – your fictional republican sympathies. Just ensure you create the right opportunity. Convince him you are sympathetic to his views.’

  ‘But I was adamant I held the opposite view when we had that one disastrous night out.’

  ‘Yes, but who would freely admit to being a Nazi sympathiser or a republican so soon in a relationship? If he questions it, tell him you couldn’t admit to it when you didn’t know him or his political stance. One has to trust someone before you reveal something as dangerous as that. As I said before, talk about your father and his involvement with the IRA. If you come across as leaning that way yourself, he’ll pounce on it.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can convince him,’ she said.

  ‘You underestimate your abilities, Sarah. Few who have gone through what you have experienced bounce back so capably and rebuild their lives.’ Was he being se
rious? Sarah studied his profile with interest. She hadn’t expected so much empathy from him. ‘Above all, act quickly. Time is not on our side, Sarah. I want him flushed out,’ Northcott said. ‘He is not the only fifth columnist the government needs terminated. The sooner he is dealt with, the sooner I can move on to the next rat in Berlin’s pocket. These people pose a significant threat to this country. If McArthur were to obtain Spitfire plans unbeknownst to us, the damage to the war effort could be catastrophic. The Spitfire has proven to be a menace to their bombers – the Third Reich desperately want to know where the weaknesses in design might be so they can target them. But with you working for us, we can ensure McArthur is caught red-handed, mitigating any risk so the drawings don’t end up in Germany. Just think of the consequences if he found a real ally and got the plans out of the country.’

  ‘I understand all of that; however, what happens once an agreement is reached about the plans and I’m ready to hand them over?’

  ‘If you can facilitate an exchange, my colleagues and I can be on standby, and will catch him in the act. And most importantly, the Jerries won’t get their hands on the plans.’ Northcott thumped the steering wheel, making Sarah jump. His pent-up frustration was seeping out. Precluded from active service, she could understand his hatred of the Germans and his wish to scupper their plans and their agents.

  ‘I’ll do my best, Captain,’ she muttered at last. ‘Am I to write up reports for you? I assume most agents do?’

  ‘Eh, no. Not in this instance, Sarah. I will write up any documentation required … based on what you tell me.’

  ‘Are you afraid I’d leave something like that lying around?’ she couldn’t help but ask.

  ‘Well, as it’s your first time—’

  ‘—and last!’

  ‘Best leave it to me. Now, was there anything else?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, actually. Do we have to meet here again? It’s not very convenient … for me, it being so far from Hursley.’