LONDON
4 OCTOBER 1940
It’s a strange thing living with the sensation that the world might at any moment fall down around your ears.
I’d done a lot of dangerous—to say nothing of illegal—things in my lifetime, but residing in London during the German Blitz was in an altogether different class.
The bombs had fallen every night for nearly a month straight, and it didn’t appear there was any end in sight. Every night, I wondered how we could possibly manage to make it through, and every morning, we got up and waded through the rubble, put things together as best we could, and did our best to carry on. Would there be anything of London left after all of this? Sometimes I wondered.
There had started to be a horrible sort of routine to it: knowing what to expect, knowing that nightfall would bring death and destruction, but being powerless to stop it. Our dread grew as the twilight faded, and then, sure as clockwork, the sound of the air-raid sirens.
It was enough to try the steadiest of nerves.
On this particular afternoon, a bit at loose ends, I was glad I had plans to fill the hours until the dreaded dusk descended. I was meeting Felix, my sort-of beau, at the cinema. I hoped Felix’s pleasant company and the comfort of a familiar picture would do something to draw my thoughts away from the grimness of the world we were living in.
I pulled on my favorite blue jumper over my white blouse and tweed skirt and left my flat, walking along the path past the large kitchen garden—thinner now that autumn was upon us—to the big house that sat in front of it. That was where my Uncle Mick lived, where I had grown up with my cousins, Colm and Toby.
Looking over all of us had been Nacy Dean, the housekeeper who had been more like a mother to us, as three motherless young children. It was she who I sought out as I entered the house.
“Nacy?”
“In the kitchen, love!”
Nacy could almost always be found in the kitchen, and the house always smelled wonderful as a result. Even rationing couldn’t beat Nacy Dean. She was a wizard in the kitchen.
“What are you cooking?” I asked.
“Just a bit of stew,” she said, stirring the bubbling pot on the hob. “Something I threw together from what I found at the shops today.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to eat later,” I said. “I just popped in to let you know I’m going to the cinema.”
“Alone?”
“Felix is meeting me there when he’s finished at the hospital.” Felix had just taken a job doing office work at the hospital. He was working long hours, and we’d had very little time to spend together recently.
“You will be back before dark, won’t you?” Nacy asked.
“Of course.”
“Do take care, Ellie
.”
“I will,” I promised. Nacy had always fussed over us when we were little, and it hadn’t stopped now that we were grown. The war had made it worse, of course, but she’d done it well before the Germans started making trouble.
I left the house and set out for the Odeon on Church Road. Ever since this cinema had opened the previous year, it had been one of my favorite places for an evening’s entertainment. It was usually less crowded than the cinema near the Tube station, and, besides that, I liked the way the Odeon looked. A brick building with a rounded, turret-like entrance, it had always looked a bit like a castle in a fairy tale to me. I blamed my Irish blood for these flights of fancy.
Like the rest of the city, the Odeon was doing its best to soldier on. That meant that shows were still running, though they generally closed in time for us to get home before the nightly air raids.
We’d had several bombs dropped in Hendon, but thus far the Odeon stood unscathed. I was learning—as we all were, I suspected—that it was important to enjoy things while we could and not think too much about the future.
I reached the cinema, purchased a ticket, and slipped into my favorite seat near the back. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d decided on an hour or two of escape; there was a decent-sized audience this afternoon. I noticed several uniformed young men with their girls.
Felix wouldn’t be here until halfway through the film, but that was all right. We’d seen it before. They were showing an older film: Bachelor Mother, starring Ginger Rogers making a go of it without Fred Astaire. It was lighthearted and amusing, just the sort of thing I was in the mood for.
Of course, there were the newsreels to watch first. If the movie to come would be a distraction, the newsreel was a grim reminder of what I was trying to be distracted from.
It was hard to see scenes of torpedoes exploding near battleships in the Channel, or the destruction caused by battle, or soldiers marching away from home to do their bit. It always made me think of my cousin Toby, who’d been missing since the Battle of Dunkirk. With each passing day with no word from the army that he’d been listed as a prisoner, it became more likely that he was dead.
As I usually did when thinking melancholy thoughts about Toby, I pushed the thoughts away, determined to keep hoping until there was some proof that no hope remained.
Focusing on the screen through eyes that threatened to cloud with tears, I concentrated on the film and soon found myself caught up in the plight of Polly Parrish, a young woman mistaken for the mother of an orphaned child with various uproarious results.
The film had been playing for a short while when I noticed a shadowy movement at the edge of my row, and then someone sat down in the seat directly beside me.
I turned, smiling to greet Felix. He was here earlier than I’d expected.
My smile faltered when I realized it was not Felix. It was, instead, Major Ramsey, the intelligence officer with whom my family and I had aligned to make use of our safe-cracking skills for king and country.
The last time I’d seen the major had been the morning after the second night of the Blitz, a night in which we’d robbed a bank and caught a ring of spies. T
hough I’d thought of him frequently over the intervening days, a cinema was one of the last places I would have expected to encounter him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, rudely foregoing a greeting.
“Good afternoon, Miss McDonnell,” he replied, his eyes on the screen. “You don’t suppose I enjoy Ginger Rogers films?”
“No.” I expected the major had neither the time nor the temperament to enjoy pictures, but if he did, he’d have gone to see one weightier than this. A war film, perhaps. Something with gravitas.
We sat in silence for a few moments as the film played. I waited for him to speak, the possible reasons for his unexpected appearance darting through my brain, but he didn’t seem inclined to do so.
“You didn’t come here to see this picture,” I pressed at last.
“No. I need to speak to you. I went to the house, and Mrs. Dean told me where you’d gone.”
Of course she had. Nacy had a bit of a crush on the major, and she was forever trying to push the two of us together. As fond as she was of Felix, in her eyes, he couldn’t compete with an army major who was nephew to an earl.
“As my time is limited, I sought you out,” he finished.
“Do we need to step outside?” I asked.
“No, this is as good a place as any. In fact, casual situations, such as this one, are an ideal way to pass along information. I don’t want to draw more attention to you than necessary.”
The implication was a bit alarming, but I was thrilled rather than frightened. It was clear that he meant to involve me in his work again, and I couldn’t have been happier. I felt as though I’d been twiddling my thumbs since the last assignment, and, now more than ever, I had the urge to be useful.
His next words confirmed my hopeful assumption. “I have another job for you.”
“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my excitement tamped down. It was best, I knew, to maintain proper professional poise in such situations, even glad as I was to have a job to do.
“All in good time, Miss McDonnell. We’re going to draw attention to ourselves if we keep talking without pause.”
I did notice the glance the woman at the end of the row had shot at us, annoyed at our whispering until she caught sight of the major. Now she seemed to be watching us with interest. Granted, the major did make a good impression, what with his impressive height and build and the irritating perfection of the features on his stern, handsome face.
“It’s going to look rather odd for us to sit here stiffly watching the picture,” I pointed out.
I thought he would agree that we should step into the lobby to talk. Instead, he surprised me by sliding his arm along the back of my seat and leaning toward m
e. “Is this better?” he asked in a low voice.
I looked up at him. He was very close now that his arm was practically around me. There was a challenge in his violet-blue eyes, and I had never been one to back down.
Rather than stiffening at the contact, as I was sure he would expect me to do, I settled against him, my eyes still on his. I could feel the warmth of him, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against my arm, and the wool of his uniform sleeve brushing against my hair.
“That’s much better,” I replied, my brows shooting him a challenge of their own. Then I turned to look back at the screen just as Ginger Rogers and David Niven shared a romantic New Year’s Eve kiss. I could feel a flush creep up my neck.
I wondered fleetingly what he was thinking about.
Perhaps it was a natural skill or perhaps it came with the housebreaking trade, but I had good instincts and the ability to sense the moods of people around me. I could normally sum up a person within minutes of meeting them.
The problem with Major Ramsey was that he defied all of this. I could rarely tell what he was thinking or feeling. There was never any indication of when he would be the stern military man or when he would soften into something a bit more human.
His expression had been as cool and imperious as ever when he’d taken a seat beside me. Now here he sat with his arm around me, as easy as you please.
He was disconcerting; even more irritating was that I knew he meant to be.
After a moment, he tilted his head slightly in my direction, as though he wanted to comment on the film—or perhaps whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
“Let me tell you why I’ve come before you respond. As I said, people will notice too much conversation. Tomorrow you’ll be taking a trip.”
I turned to look at him, not realizing just how close his face was. Our noses nearly brushed, and I turned quickly back to the screen.
“After the film, I need you to go home and pack a bag with enough clothing and necessities for perhaps a fortnight.”
“Where am I going?” I asked.
“Sunderland. I have a packet here with your train tickets and the documentation you’ll need. Can you fit it in your handbag?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to hand it to you. Don’t be obvious about it.”
I nodded.
He reached into his jacket pocket with one hand, his other arm still perched on the back of my seat. I kept my gaze on the screen but was very aware of him as he shifted against me and then eased the packet into my lap. My fingers closed over it, and I adjusted my jumper to conceal it as best as I could. I would put it in my handbag after a few moments.
“The address of the lodging house in which you’re to stay is there,” he went on. “Make friends with the locals if you can, but be careful, and reveal as little as possible. I will join you in Sunderland, but it may not be for a day or two. When I do, it will be under an alias. You’re to pretend that you’re just making my acquaintance.”
My heart pounded with excitement. This sounded like proper spy work we would be doing, not just a locksmithing job. The secrecy, the packet of documents, his mention that he would be assuming a false identity. It all indicated something big.
He glanced at his wristwatch and then leaned his head toward me again. “As charming as this film—and the present company—is, I’m afraid I have a train to catch.”
“But…” I began. I still had a great many questions.
“What you need to know at present is in the packet. I will make contact with further information. You’re to share details with no one. Not your uncle. Not Felix Lacey. Understood?”
“But…”
“I don’t have time to argue, Miss McDonnell. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I hissed.
“Tell your uncle I’ll get you home in one piece. That’s all he needs to know at present.”
“Major…”
But he had already risen and strode from the theater.
I sat back in my chair with an annoyed huff. The major enjoyed this cloak-and-dagger stuff a bit too much. And I knew how much my uncle, Nacy, and Felix would worry about me. The major had put me in rather a tight spot.
The shadow fell across the row once again, and I thought he had returned. I was just preparing to give him a piece of my mind when Felix dropped into the seat beside me.
“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said, sliding an arm along the back of my seat where the major’s arm had been moments ago and leaning in to brush my cheek with a kiss.
I hazarded a glance at the girl at the end of the row, wondering what she would think of my multiple seatmates.
To my chagrin, she raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and then, with a wide grin, gave me an approving nod.
“You’re leaving London?” Felix asked as we walked home. “Is he going with you?”
Major Ramsey had not forbidden me to tell Felix that I was leaving town, only that I couldn’t share details, so I had confided in him that I was to do another job for the major.
“I … I was told I’m not at liberty to say any more. I’m sorry, Felix.” It felt wrong, unsettling, to keep secrets from him. He was one of my closest friends and confidants. He knew more about me than anyone, aside from my family, and I didn’t like secrecy between us.
We continued in silence for a few moments after that, my arm through his. I felt contented, walking along with him through the cooling evening air, but I also hoped to offer a bit of support. Felix had lost part of his left leg in a bombing and had been invalided out of the war. As with anything he set his mind to, he had adapted quickly to his artificial limb, and there was now only the barest perceptible limp as he walked. All the same, I knew that it was not entirely comfortable for him, and I did my best to make things easy where I could, without his noticing.
“It’s certainly not my place to tell you what to do, Ellie,” he said. “But I don’t mind telling you that I don’t particularly like it.”
“You’re going to Scotland tomorrow,” I reminded him. “It’s not as though we’d be together these next few days anyway.”
“That’s not the point, and you know it,” he said. His tone was good-natured enough, but I could feel the tension in him.
“Felix,” I said, giving his arm a little tug. “Don’t be cross.”
He stopped walking and turned to look at me. His expression was guarded, his eyes unreadable. “I’m not cross, Ellie. You know I always support your decisions.”
“I know, Felix, and you’re a dear to do so.”
Felix was a boyhood chum of my cousins, and we had grown up together. It was only upon Felix’s discharge from the navy after his injury and his subsequent return to London that our relationship had deepened—albeit, into one that was still without definite parameters.
We had been spending more time together in the past few weeks and had engaged in rather a lot of kissing. But we’d not really discussed if this was meant to be exclusive or if it was only a bit of fun. A part of me hated to ruin things by trying to put a definition on them. Everything was so uncertain in wartime. We liked each other very much. Wasn’t that enough for now?
“I just … don’t trust Ramsey,” he said.
I looked up at him, surprised. “What on earth do you mean? If there’s anyone in this country we can trust, it’s probably him.”
“Still purposefully misunderstanding me,” he said with a smile. “All right. I’ll put it plainly: I’m jealous.”
“Felix!” I laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
It had been clear from the outset that Felix and the major didn’t particularly care for each other. While they had managed to formulate a mutually respectful working relationship, the undertone of dislike remained.
“It’s not ridiculous. He fancies you.”
“He does not.” I felt a strange mix of emotions at the thought, not the least of which was guilt for having been so aware of the major’s nearness in the darkened theater.
“I won’t argue the point with you,” Felix said. “After all, your life’s your own. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“And you promise me the same.” I still wasn’t sure what Felix had been up to on his trips to Scotland, and I rather expected it was something outside the bounds of the law. He had hinted as much to me, though he would give me no details.
“I promise, sweet.”
“Good. I’d like you back safe and sound by the time I return.” We were alone on a side street, so I slipped my arms inside his jacket and around his waist, looking up at him.
As I thought it might, this seemed to ease the frown that had been lurking on his handsome brow for most of this conversation. His arms came around me. “You know I can’t resist you when you look at me like that.”
“I was counting on it,” I said.
He leaned down to kiss me, and, for a few moments, I forgot to wonder about what tomorrow might bring.
Sunset was fast approaching when I finally returned to my flat. My stomach growled, but Nacy’s stew would have to wait. If the Germans came again tonight—which was likely, given they had come every night for weeks—I wouldn’t have much time to pack for my trip. A sense of purpose overcame the dreamy languor I had momentarily felt in Felix’s arms, and I put the kettle on and then went to my room. Taking my suitcase from the closet, I set it on the bed and began to pack.
It didn’t take me long to throw a fortnight’s worth of clothes into the suitcase. I’d never been much interested in fashion and frills in the best of times, and these were not the best of times. My serviceable wardrobe was followed by my hairbrush, a few cosmetics, a bar of soap, and a toothbrush.
That task quickly accomplished, I went to make my tea and settled on my sofa with the steaming cup and the packet the major had given me. I took everything out and spread it on the table before me.
There was a train ticket to Sunderland, leaving early the following morning, just as the major had said. No return ticket, I noticed. Then it seemed my job had no definite parameters as of yet.
There was also a small card with the name of a lodging house and an address printed on it in a neat hand. Constance’s, no doubt. The major’s secretary was highly capable and efficient.
This was further proven by the papers in the packet. An identity card and a ration book, both with the name Elizabeth Donaldson on them. It was an alias I had used before when working with the major. The papers looked very official.
The photograph was one of me that had been taken back when we’d first linked up with the major and signed the Official Secrets Act. I’d assumed it was the military intelligence equivalent of a rogue’s gallery, but it seemed they’d had other uses in mind.
I studied my photo. My expression was serious, as it seldom was in real life, and it made me look older. My black hair contrasted sharply with my pale skin in the black-and-white photograph, and my eyes looked darker without their green tint. I wore no makeup, and the natural wave of my ha
ir had ensured that stray curls had escaped around my face. All told, there was nothing especially remarkable about it. I appeared much like any other decent-looking Englishwoman you might pass on the streets. That was what had made me so adept at blending in, why I excelled at safecracking. It would also be what, I hoped, would make me good at whatever adventure lay in store.
The last item in the packet was the most interesting to me. It was a book: The Birds of Northern England. I frowned, flipping through the pages. I looked for words that might be underlined or words in the margins but saw nothing. The book appeared new, the spine uncreased. So what significance did it hold? Was it a codebook of some sort? Perhaps the key to a code I would have to solve?
It was just like the major to present me with something like this without explanation.
I slipped the documents back into the envelope they had come in and put it inside my handbag. I was as prepared for this impromptu trip as I was going to be.
I picked up my cup of tea and prepared to look a bit more into the bird book.
And then the air-raid sirens sounded.
I arrived at Victoria Station early the next morning. I’d left the house as soon as the all clear had sounded, hoping the roads would be passable enough and that the station hadn’t been bombed overnight. ...
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