Her Secret War Page 7

  Sarah shook Miss Sugden’s hand. ‘How do you do?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Miss Gillespie. You are very welcome to the tracing team.’ The supervisor smiled up at her and turned to the manager. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Whitaker, we’ll take good care of her.’

  ‘I have no doubt, Miss Sugden.’ Miss Whitaker turned and addressed the sea of faces. ‘Ladies, let me introduce Miss Sarah Gillespie, who is joining us today.’ Miss Whitaker beckoned Sarah forward before walking away towards an empty desk in the corner at the far end of the room. She turned to Sarah. ‘This will be your desk, Sarah. If you have any questions, Gladys and Ruth will help you.’ The manager nodded to the women who occupied the desks closest to Sarah’s. Each smiled and shook Sarah’s hand.

  ‘Work hard, Miss Gillespie, and we will get along famously,’ Miss Whitaker said before departing.

  Gladys winked at Sarah and returned to her work.

  ‘Come along, Sarah, I’ll talk you through it all and show you where everything is kept,’ Ruth said.

  The girls were sitting on a rug under the ancient oak trees, having their lunch. Sarah was delighted they had invited her to join them.

  ‘Well, Sarah, welcome to the Dragon’s lair. You have survived your first morning,’ Gladys said. ‘What do you think of us all? Be honest, now.’

  ‘I couldn’t be happier. This is a much nicer place than my last job. Any hints or tips? Anyone I should avoid?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘No, Miss Sugden is an absolute pet. A very motherly sort,’ Ruth said.

  ‘And Miss Whitaker?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Perhaps not quite as motherly,’ replied Gladys. An amused glance passed between the two friends. ‘But don’t be concerned. She’s a stickler all right, but once your tracing is up to scratch, she leaves you alone.’ Gladys pushed her blonde hair back from her face.

  ‘My cousin Martin told me about her. I’m relieved the work is similar to what I was doing in Dublin. More detailed but I think I’ll manage.’

  ‘Good for you! Some new girls struggle at the start. Just remember if you have questions ask me or Gladys. We’re old hands at this stage,’ Ruth chimed in.

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate that,’ Sarah replied. ‘Is this a regular spot for your break?’

  ‘We have our lunch here most days if the weather is fine. You’re welcome to join us. Some of the other girls prefer the canteen, but it’s a squeeze. It used to be the servants’ dining room. We prefer it out here. It’s bad enough being cooped up all day without spending your free time in the house as well.’

  Sarah looked around the park. ‘And what about in the winter? Or do you sit out here in hats and scarves, freezing to death?’

  Gladys grinned. ‘Funny! No. We suffer the canteen when needs must. Best to bring your own food though.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Could we not eat at our desks?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘It’s forbidden to bring food or drink into the Tracing Room in case of accidents. The slightest smudge or mark and the tracings must be washed out and you have to start over, which is a complete pain, trust me.’

  ‘Now that will have you up before the Dragon,’ Gladys said, ‘and no mistake.’

  Ruth laughed. ‘Gladys has some experience of that, don’t you know.’

  Gladys made a face at her friend and turned back to Sarah. ‘The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on her! The usual punishment is the delightful task of cutting fresh sheets of tracing cloth off the roll.’ Gladys held up her right hand. ‘A tiresome job. I still have welts on my palms from the last time. The scissors are always blunt.’

  ‘In my last job, the sheets came pre-cut,’ Sarah said.

  Ruth snorted. ‘And cost a hell of a lot more, I’m sure.’

  ‘Most likely,’ Sarah said. ‘Forgive me, but I’m curious. I didn’t see either of you in Hursley during the week. Do you rent close by?’

  ‘No, I wish! Not enough room in the village, I’m afraid. We share a room in a boarding house in Winchester and use the Supermarine bus in and out. You’re living with the Lambe family, aren’t you?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Yes. Tom Lambe is my uncle.’

  Ruth sighed. ‘And Martin is your cousin. He’s lovely.’ Gladys snorted but Ruth ignored her and continued: ‘Lucky you to live so near to work. But, hey, come into Winchester some Friday night. We usually go to the cinema.’

  Gladys nodded. ‘Definitely. Much livelier than Hursley, unless sitting in the pub with the locals is your idea of fun. Drag your cousin along. Ruth will be ever so grateful.’

  ‘Swine!’ Ruth cried, swiping her friend with her empty sandwich bag. Gladys dodged and laughed at her.

  ‘I’d love to,’ replied Sarah with a grin.

  9

  19th September 1941, Winchester

  ‘Come on, slowcoach, nearly there!’ Martin called over his shoulder to Sarah. ‘The Ritz is just around the next corner.’

  ‘Hold up, Martin. I’m not used to such a long cycle. I’ve run out of puff,’ Sarah gasped. Her injured leg was objecting to the strenuous exercise, but she hated to be beaten.

  ‘Ha, ha, such a weakling!’ he replied as he rounded the bend ahead of her.

  With a spurt of effort, Sarah caught up with him. She had enjoyed the journey and chatting with Martin, but now the evening was drawing in and she worried about the cycle home in the blackout. It would be a challenge, but at least there were few cars about because of the petrol rationing.

  Ahead of her, Martin braked. ‘That’s a relief; there’re the girls. Good of them to wait for us, but I hope we aren’t late. They won’t let us in if the picture has started,’ he said. ‘I’ve wanted to see Cottage to Let ever since I read about it in Picturegoer Weekly. Nothing like a good spy film.’

  Martin locked the bikes together and they crossed over the road to where Ruth and Gladys were waiting at the cinema entrance. Ruth smiled shyly at Martin as they approached.

  ‘Evening, ladies. Shall we?’ Martin asked, holding out his arm to Ruth, who blushed furiously.

  Gladys tucked her arm through Sarah’s, and they followed the others inside. The foyer was crowded, and they had to squeeze through to get near the ticket booth.

  ‘Hold on here, ladies; I’ll get the tickets,’ Martin said before joining the queue.

  Sarah looked about the jammed hallway. ‘I recognise quite a few faces,’ she remarked to Gladys.

  ‘Yes, most of the younger staff come here on a Friday night. It’s a tradition; cinema Friday, dance Saturday, if there’s one on locally.’

  A few minutes later, Martin pushed his way towards them and handed them their tickets. ‘Best seats in the house,’ he quipped.

  ‘Circle tickets; how posh, Martin. Who are you trying to impress?’ Gladys asked with a cheeky grin. Martin glowered at her before turning his attention back to Ruth.

  ‘I didn’t realise my cousin was such a charmer,’ Sarah said to Gladys.

  ‘I heard that!’ Martin grunted.

  ‘You were meant to,’ she replied.

  Gladys squeezed Sarah’s arm and wiggled her brows. ‘Just ask Ruth; she’ll tell you how charming Martin Lambe can be.’

  Sarah loved going to the cinema; always had. Scraping money together whenever she could, she used to take Maura to the Savoy on O’Connell Street. Da didn’t hold with ‘that muck’, as he used to call it. His attitude only made Sarah more determined to see as many films as she could. The Savoy was the grandest cinema in Dublin with its Venetian-inspired interior, and Sarah loved to soak up the atmosphere, imagining herself the leading lady at an opening night. But she had to be content with being an observer and avid fan, her only regret not being able to afford to visit more than twice a month. It wasn’t just escape from the humdrum routine of her life; it fed her dreams. And when she couldn’t afford to go to the cinema, she used to lose herself in film magazines or books. The local library had a good range of fiction, but her favourites were Dorothy L Sayers and Agatha Christie. The librarian used to joke he
was running out of books for her to borrow. Unfortunately, the few books she had bought over the years were lost when No. 18 fell around her ears, but within a couple of weeks she intended to start her collection anew.

  Though not as splendid as the Savoy, the Ritz was a large cinema, and Sarah sighed contentedly as she settled into her seat. The first week at Supermarine had been exhausting as she had learned about their tracing process and got to grips with the specialist equipment and the more rigorous routine. Each day her confidence had grown, and that very afternoon the Dragon had complimented her on her work.

  Home life, too, was proving pleasant. Her rapport with Martin was a source of quiet joy and went a little way towards helping her deal with her grief. He had brought her along to the drama group the previous Wednesday, which had been great fun. All the acting parts were already cast but Sarah didn’t mind. She was happy enough to help backstage with scenery and costumes. Martin had one of the main roles and surprised her with his performance. He was a natural on the stage and clearly enjoyed himself in the role. It was a friendly group and she had enjoyed talking to them over tea and biscuits at the end of the night. She was looking forward to the following Wednesday already.

  Tom and Alice were generous in spirit and had made her feel part of the family. They spoke lovingly of their daughter Judith, who Sarah was increasingly curious about. Judith’s job in London was spoken of in reverent tones but when Sarah asked what her cousin did, they couldn’t tell her. Afterwards, Martin had hinted that her work was top secret, but Sarah wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. She doubted someone as young as her cousin would have such an important role.

  Tonight, Sarah didn’t want to dwell on anything but the future. For the first time in months, it looked promising. Now, as she relaxed, she was ready for escape to another world. As she waited for the curtain to go back, three young men climbed the steps, stopped at their row, and called out cheerfully to Ruth and Gladys. One of them was rather handsome, Sarah noted; tall and dark with a mischievous glint in his eye. Martin, who was seated next to the aisle, chatted to the men before they continued on their way. Sarah guessed they worked at Hursley too. They didn’t go far, taking seats in the row behind. Ruth glanced at them but then looked away quickly, her face flushed and her breathing laboured. Sarah wondered if there was history there. She’d have to ask Gladys about it later.

  Gladys caught her eye and whispered: ‘Lads from Wages.’

  ‘I haven’t seen them before.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have. Their office is in Southend House, the old house near the other entrance.’

  ‘Won’t you introduce us, Gladys?’ one man said, leaning over Gladys’s shoulder. Sarah looked up. It was Mr Handsome, and his charming smile was directed at her.

  ‘Sarah Gillespie, this is Rob McArthur,’ Gladys provided with a roll of her eyes and a knowing smile.

  Sarah shook hands. ‘Nice to meet you, Rob.’

  ‘You’re new, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘I’d have to be blind to miss a pretty girl like you.’

  ‘Yes, just started this week,’ Sarah replied, as Gladys smothered a giggle.

  Rob nodded and looked as though he was all set for a chat, but before he could say anything more, the lights went down, and he had to sit back. Gladys winked at Sarah.

  Sarah turned towards the screen, a little flattered to be singled out. Mind you, she wouldn’t be taken in by a bit of patter. She was well used to that back home and knew just how to deal with forward young men. Fleetingly, she thought of Paul and wondered where he was. Was he in England yet? There was still no sign of a letter from him, even though he had promised to write. Could he have forgotten about her already in the excitement of his new adventure? It was a lowering thought. But it could be that he was busy training or moving about the country to different bases. That had to be it. Once things were more settled, they would meet up again.

  Martin had already filled her in on what the picture was about on the cycle to Winchester. A touch of espionage was just the ticket and two of her favourite actors were in Cottage to Let; Alastair Sim and John Mills, who played an RAF pilot. Sarah bit her lip. She might try to envisage Paul in the role. It would be something they could laugh about if they met up. Of course they would, she thought: there would be no ‘if’. But as friends, nothing more. And that was her own fault. How she still regretted those angry words and her fumbled attempt at a reconciliation that day at the graveyard. She should have tried harder.

  The curtain rose, and Sarah dismissed her gloomy thoughts. Around her, the hubbub died down as the projector kicked into life.

  About forty minutes into the film, an air-raid siren went off. Everyone groaned as the projector juddered to a halt and the lights went up. Sarah’s heart raced.

  ‘Here we go again!’ Gladys said with a sigh, pulling on her coat, before moving along the row, following Ruth and Martin down the steps.

  But Sarah could not move; she was overcome with terror. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook; she was back in No. 18, North Strand. The wall was falling towards her as if in slow motion and the dust was choking, blinding. The pressure was pushing the breath from her body. That was Maura crying out behind her! Sarah was stuck fast; she couldn’t reach her, couldn’t move a muscle.

  With a jerk, she opened her eyes as she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. ‘You can’t stay here, Miss Gillespie.’ Sarah looked up into Rob McArthur’s anxious face. ‘Come on, the shelter isn’t far.’

  Sarah stared at him, too afraid to move. ‘I can’t!’

  All around, people were filing out towards the exits. There was no trace of Martin or Gladys. Panic rose in Sarah’s throat.

  Rob clambered over Gladys’s vacated seat and into Sarah’s row. He stood regarding her with concern. ‘What’s the matter? Seriously, we must move now. Far too dangerous to stay here – and you’ll get into trouble.’ Rob grabbed her hand and gave it a tug. ‘Come on, your friends will wonder where you are.’

  Sarah nodded and took a deep breath.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘That’s the ticket. Don’t forget your gas mask.’

  Sarah scooped up her things and let him lead her to the end of the row and down the steps. Rob kept a firm grip on her arm, leading her out through the foyer to the street. For a moment all she could do was breathe deeply, the cold air helping to ease her fear. However, she was still shaking.

  ‘There’s a shelter in the grounds of Holy Trinity Church; it’s the closest one. It’s not far,’ Rob said.

  ‘Is it underground? I could not bear that.’

  He flashed her a puzzled glance. ‘You’ll be fine; don’t worry,’ he answered, taking off at pace. Around them, people were scurrying off in different directions. Sarah was disorientated; the darkness of the blackout made it almost impossible to see anything but vague outlines. She had to trust that Rob knew where he was going. Clinging to Rob’s arm, she could make out a terrace of houses to their left, the roofline dark against the slightly lighter sky. Not a chink of light was to be seen at a window or door.

  In the distance, a searchlight suddenly swept the sky. Sarah’s heart beat even faster, her ears straining for the engine drone that haunted her nightmares.

  ‘How much further?’ she squeaked.

  ‘Nearly there, don’t fret.’

  People ahead of them slowed down, before turning left. Rob followed, pulling her through a gateway. Now it was almost pitch dark under the trees, and they had to slow down even more. Head bent, Rob said: ‘This is the cemetery. Have to follow the path through to the side of the church. Don’t want to end up in an open grave, now do we?’

  How he could joke at such a moment, Sarah could not fathom, but she remained silent, concentrating on keeping her footing on the uneven path.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, as they emerged into an open space. He pushed her ahead of him. Sarah squinted into the darkness and could make out the outline of the shelter. An ARP warden stood at the entrance
and waved them in with his torch. There were about fifteen others inside, huddled together and speaking in hushed voices. A few candles had been lit, but the place smelled damp and it was surprisingly chilly. There was no sign of Martin or the girls. Sarah hoped they had found a safe place to shelter.

  ‘Are there other shelters nearby? I don’t see my cousin here,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yes, quite a few. Don’t worry, they’ll be safe.’

  Sarah wrapped her arms around her body, but she continued to shiver. ‘Did you hear any planes?’ she whispered frantically to Rob. ‘Do you think they are near?’

  ‘Can’t imagine it’s too serious. Might be a stray Jerry looking for Southampton. They’re just being careful sounding the alarm. It happens a couple of times a week.’ Rob tilted his head. ‘You sure you’re all right? Is this your first air raid by any chance?’

  She almost laughed. ‘No, not exactly. I’m the only one of my family to survive one. Back in Dublin, a few months ago.’

  ‘Oh! Of course,’ Rob exclaimed. ‘I should have realised you’re Tom Lambe’s niece, the Irish girl. So sorry, yes, I’d heard about that. Damn Germans!’ He looked embarrassed; it was sweet, really.

  Sarah smiled weakly back at him. ‘I’m sorry I reacted like that in the cinema, but I have this fear of being buried again …‍’

  Rob touched her arm. ‘Gosh, how awful! Is that what happened to you?’ He shuddered and grimaced. ‘It’s perfectly understandable to be afraid if that’s what you experienced. Forgive me, but didn’t you lose your sister? I heard your cousin Martin talk about it.’

  ‘Yes, my younger sister, Maura. My father died too.’

  ‘What rotten luck. I have a brother in Africa. Did you know Jerry has bombed Cairo? I don’t know how I’d feel if anything …‍’ He dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt floor and frowned. ‘Sorry, that sounds silly considering what you’ve been through. Bloody war,’ he said at last, casting her a bleak look.

  ‘But you’re helping to end it.’