Chapter Fourteen

The pain wasn’t right. Period pains had a character all of their own. The cramping, gut-clenching ache was something she rarely suffered from, and, in any case, it wasn’t like this scything, gnawing, griping agony that made her want to double over and be sick, while draining her body of every ounce of energy.

Draining it, yes, but not out of her body. It was as if all her energy was being concentrated in one area. In her belly. Deep inside. Whatever was orchestrating it seemed to have its own intelligence and was drawing from her for its own ends. Its own survival.

The door opened. Tilly rushed in. “Good grief, Vi, whatever’s the matter?”

Vi clutched her stomach tighter and rocked back and forth. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. I thought it was my period but….” She shook her head.

“Heavens, girl, you look terrible. You’re sweating. Must be a temperature. I’m going to call for an ambulance. You stay there.”

For one glorious second, the pain subsided. Vi inhaled, only to be regaled with a double-strength rush of pain that tore through her insides. She had heard trapped wind could make you feel as if your entire body would explode, but what she was feeling now wasn’t that, nor was it appendicitis. She was pretty sure it didn’t meet the criteria for that. In fact, it wasn’t anything she could think of.

Tilly was back within a few minutes. “The ambulance is on its way. Thank goodness Jerry gave us a quiet night last night or I don’t know what we’d have done. Where does it hurt, Vi? Can you point to it?”

Vi struggled to breathe over the constant white-hot pain. She pointed vaguely to an area encompassing her entire abdomen. Doing so meant she released her grip on her tummy and Tilly studied her. “You do look rather swollen there, but that could be your period. Do you normally swell up at your time of the month?”

“A little…” Vi gasped. “Not much—” A renewed burst of pain cut her off.

“It’s all right. Don’t try to speak anymore. We’ll see what the doctors say.”

Tilly took her hand and Vi clung on to her too tightly, so that she had to concentrate on lessening her viselike grip as she felt Tilly wince.

The distinctive sound of ambulance bells drew closer and the sound of brakes squealing was followed by doors opening and banging shut. Tilly sprang up off her knees beside Vi to let them in. Through her semi-delirium, Vi heard a rapid exchange of voices and then the door flew open and two burly ambulance men entered with a stretcher.

“All right, Violet. Let’s get you to hospital where they can have a look at you. Can you stand?”

Vi tried to raise herself, one man holding each arm to steady her. She swayed as everything began to swim around her.

“Best get her on the stretcher, Bert. She isn’t too steady on her pins.”

Vi was aware of gentle hands lifting her and laying her down on the stretcher. As her world changed from the semi-vertical to the horizontal, her stomach churned and bile swam up into her throat. She swallowed hard and frequently and kept on doing that for the entire short journey to the nearest hospital.

At some stage, she must have passed out because when she opened her eyes, she was lying in a clean bed, tucked in firmly and with a drip in her arm.

She tried to lift herself higher to gauge her surroundings but a sharp twinge from the needle in her arm made her think twice. Mercifully the pain in her stomach had receded to a dull ache.

Vi lay quietly for a few minutes and closed her eyes. It seemed no time had passed before an unfamiliar male voice roused her and she opened her eyes to see a middle-aged man wearing a tartan bow tie and white coat, sporting a stethoscope around his neck.

“Ah, Mrs. Harrington. Back with us at last. You gave us quite a nasty scare there.”

“I’m sorry…and it’s Miss Harrington. Violet.”

The smile vanished from the doctor’s face. His voice was curt. “I see.”

What had made him change his attitude so drastically? Somewhere nearby a baby cried, then another and another.

A nurse sped past the end of her bed. “One starts and they all join in.”

“It’s always the way of it,” the doctor called after her. “Now, Mrs.…Miss Harrington, if you’re sure that’s what you want me to call you.”

“It’s my name, Doctor. Violet Harrington. Miss.”

“And what is your…profession, Miss Harrington?”

“I’m a civil servant. Shorthand typist.”

“Indeed.” The doctor sighed. “Any family living nearby?”

“My parents live temporarily with my sister in Cheltenham. Look, doctor, what’s the matter with me? What’s causing all the pain?”

“My dear young lady, you mean you don’t know?”

“No.” Vi’s anxiety hit fever pitch. Why wouldn’t the man simply come out and tell her?

The doctor leaned closer to her and she could smell tobacco on his breath. “You’re pregnant. Around four months I would say.”

Vi blinked. Surely she hadn’t just heard that. “But it’s impossible. I’ve never. I mean…. I know how women fall pregnant and no one has ever….”

“I can assure you someone has. Unless you’re going to try and convince me that yours is the first immaculate conception since the Virgin Mary.”

“But I’m telling you I haven’t been near anyone in that way. I can’t be pregnant.”

“I would lower your voice if I were you, Violet. You’re beginning to attract attention from the other mothers, and we don’t want them upset, do we? Stress of any kind can transmit itself to their babies.”

Vi made a conscious effort to lower her voice, but her heart beat faster with every second. “There must be another test you can do? And what about the pain? It’s not as bad now, but it was awful.”

“I can find nothing medically wrong with you. You are definitely pregnant and, so far, everything seems quite normal. Of course, you need regular checkups throughout your pregnancy, and we can organize those with the local midwife. Meanwhile, we’ll keep you in for a further twenty-four hours and if there’s no recurrence of the pain you experienced earlier, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go home. You’ll need to inform your employer, naturally. As a pregnant woman, and an unmarried one at that, they may wish to dispense with your services forthwith. In which case, your best course of action would probably be to join your parents at your sister’s home.”

“This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. I cannot be expecting. I haven’t even got a boyfriend.”

“Nevertheless, the facts speak for themselves.” The doctor checked Vi’s drip. “The nurse will be along soon to remove that.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, until at six o’clock, Tilly came to visit. She sat in the visitor’s chair next to the bed. “How are you now? You still look horribly pale.”

“The doctor told me I’m pregnant.”

Tilly almost fell off her chair. “What? But whose is it? I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“I’m not and I haven’t been in ages. And anyway, I’ve never…. This can’t be happening, but, Tilly, I had a terrible nightmare last night and if this is true, I think the nightmare was more than just a bad dream. I think it actually happened.”

Who cared if Tilly denied part of their shared past? At this moment, in her time of crisis, she was the only person Vi could turn to. At least she seemed genuinely concerned and shocked. Vi told her everything. When she had finished, Tilly stared at her.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” If Vi’s spirits could have tumbled any further, she didn’t know how. In that second, loneliness enveloped her, along with a sense of deep dread. She still had to break the news to her parents and sister. This on top of George’s death. She had brought disgrace on the whole family.

Tilly laid her cool hand over Vi’s, where her fingers were picking at the blanket.

“I do believe you, Vi. I believe you because I think I was there. I had a nightmare too. You were in it and we were in this desolate place, a landscape, empty except for an ancient stone circle. A bit like Stonehenge only, maybe, smaller. I was dressed in a floor-length black robe, with a hood that covered my head and forced me to look downward as I walked, or I would have tripped. Only when we stopped – and we all stopped in unison. I don’t know how – only then could I see straight ahead and I recognized you, screaming, being tortured by some creature. It wasn’t human, nor was it any animal I’ve ever seen. Its back was to me and it was scaly, glistening in the moonlight and I watched it tear into you. Then I woke up. Like you, I thought it was a nightmare. I came downstairs and found you in agony, but I still thought I’d had a bad dream. Until now.”

“But what does it all mean? And what the hell am I going to do about this?”

Vi pointed at her stomach, the mound visible under the blanket. “And that’s another thing. The doctor estimates I’m four months gone, but this only happened yesterday.”

Tilly shook her head. “Something else happened. You might as well know now. The MO people have queried a report of mine about that woman you swore we both shared a house with – Sandrine Maupas di Santiago – and that man, Alex. They returned it to me, asking me to swear an affidavit that everything I wrote is true. The problem is, Vi, I don’t remember writing it and I still don’t remember anything about that woman or her accomplice. But I do recognize my handwriting, and when I read it, I got, sort of, goose bumps. Something stirred in my mind but it’s as if it’s just out of reach and I can’t quite grasp it. It looks like the powers that be are on to her and are using my MO report as part of their evidence. I want to help, but how can I when I don’t remember anything about it? I need you to help me remember. Help me unlock that part of my brain that’s suppressing these memories. I hate to ask right now though. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Maybe we can help each other. Perhaps this is a way of finding out the truth. There seem to be so many layers to this, it’s like peeling an onion. Now I know why I can’t stand the things.” Vi managed a smile and Tilly squeezed her hand.

“They’re letting you out tomorrow, I believe,” Tilly said. “I can come and get you at lunchtime.”

“Thanks. I don’t know if they will have signed me off by then and I need to know what I do from here on in. I know there are women who—”

Tilly smacked her hand. Her voice was a furious whisper. “Don’t say it. Especially not here. It’s illegal.”

“I know, but who is its father? What is its father? I can’t bring a monster into this world. There are enough of them here already.”

Tilly sighed. “The Aryan superrace. Hitler’s dream. It’s all in Mein Kampf, you know. I read it once. Dull as ditchwater, but you can tell he’s in cahoots with all sorts of occult practices and will stop at nothing to achieve his insane ideas. It’s all laid out there in black and white for everyone to read. What if this is all connected? People dismissed that book as the ravings of a madman, if they bothered to read it at all. Only our Churchill took him seriously.”

Vi was seeing a new side to Tilly. She had thought her mercurial, possessed of a short fuse and given to reading light, frothy novels and film magazines. Now she had revealed a deeper, more serious side and it left Vi wondering if she had ever really known the woman at all.

* * *

In the event, Tilly had to work late and not only could she not get to Vi at lunchtime, the message she sent said she would have to stay the night in the Dock. Vi left the hospital midafternoon with instructions on how to contact the midwife if she felt unwell and what to do in the coming months to prepare for the birth of whatever was growing in her belly. And it was growing, she could feel it. Like some parasite draining all the marrow from her bones and the iron from her blood, it left her tired, aching and feeling like a woman twice her age. She felt its entwining presence insinuating itself into her brain, assimilating and feeding off her knowledge and experience, hungry for whatever she possessed and prepared to take whatever it wanted. This was no symbiotic relationship. It was like being eaten from the inside out.

For the next hour, Vi struggled with endless staircases up and down to the Tube, trudged along dimly lit corridors until she finally emerged into the bright sun. She squinted up at the clear blue sky, swayed and steadied herself on the banister.

“You all right, love?” A sailor touched her arm.

Vi smiled and nodded. “Just a bit tired, that’s all. Been overworking.”

“You shouldn’t ought to be working at all in your condition,” he said, concern showing in his warm brown eyes. “Here, let’s get you sat down. There’s a seat over there.” He steered her through the hordes of people, and she sank down gratefully on the hard, wooden bench seat. He perched beside her. “Can I get you some water? There’s a café over there. They’ll help out a lady in distress.”

“No, honestly, you’ve been very kind. I just need to sit for a few minutes. It’s quite hot today. Especially on the Tube.”

“Tell me about it. Proper stinks down there as well. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Vi.”

“Well, Vi, I have half an hour to spare if you want me to see you home safely.”

That was the last thing Vi wanted. As soon as the young man had spoken so kindly to her, it was like a bomb had gone off inside her. Whatever that thing was didn’t like the intervention. It wasn’t about to let her have any outside help. For its own ends – whatever they were – she was on her own. She even began to wonder whether Tilly really did have to work late or whether the creature had manipulated that somehow. After all, so much else had been engineered. So many false memories, or memories wiped clean. So many lies and so much deception. She no longer knew what – or who – to believe and felt so weary, all the fight had been sucked out of her.

“I only live round the corner,” she said. “I can be there in a couple of minutes.”

“That’s even better. I’ll wait until you feel better and then I’ll walk with you. Don’t want you fainting in the street. My wife, Betty, she’s in the family way. She’s up in Derby and I don’t get to see her much. She’s due in a few weeks but I think I’ll be overseas. The kid’ll probably’ve started school before he gets to meet his dad. Is your husband…?”

Vi knew at that moment he had caught sight of her ringless finger. She could always lie and say her hands had swelled up so she had to take it off but, right now, the opinion of a total stranger – even a kind and well-meaning one – was the least of her concerns. “I don’t have one,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “This is all a huge mistake.”

A shard of pain, as agonizing as it was unexpected, shot through her and she cried out. Several passersby stopped and stared before deciding it was none of their business. Tim stood up. “You need to be in a hospital.”

“I just came from one. They said there’s nothing wrong. Nothing wrong!” Vi broke out in hysterical laughter. Tim backed away, and Vi read fear in his face. A voice spoke. An inhuman, raucous voice.

“That’s right, back away. Leave her. Leave her.”

“Dear God.” The sailor crossed himself repeatedly and retreated, half falling into people hurrying for the Tube. “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

Vi realized no one else could possibly have heard what he had, or they too would have been as scared and white-faced as this good Samaritan was now. She also realized where that terrible, roaring guttural voice had come from.

It had come from her.

Tim dashed away and no one else took any notice of the pregnant woman slumped in the seat. Maybe they thought she was drunk. When Vi looked down at her bulging belly, it was as if three months had elapsed since she was in hospital. Her skirt strained at the waist and, with effort, she managed to undo a couple of buttons to release the pressure. It was then she felt the thing move for the first time. She had remembered touching Lilian’s tummy when she was about seven months pregnant and feeling the butterfly-like movements of the baby inside her womb. Now, when she touched her stomach, she felt a kick so strong, it pushed her hand away.

“I have to get this thing out of me.” She realized she had said the words out loud. A couple of women exchanged shocked expressions, shook their heads disapprovingly and sped past.

Vi had to get home. She must get to her room and shut the door. What to do about Tilly and Mrs. Sinclair she had no idea. But she couldn’t stay out here. Sooner or later someone, alarmed by her strange behavior, would call the police, and they would take her away to God alone knew where.

She struggled to her feet and lurched forward, clutching her bag and gas mask awkwardly over her belly. She lived ten minutes away, but it took her more than twenty to finally make it to the front door. All the while, voices thrummed in her head, chanting in strange languages she had never heard before and couldn’t comprehend. But even though she couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, she knew that beneath it all was an evil deadlier than she could ever have imagined. An evil hell-bent on destruction, whatever the cost. Death and suffering were its food and drink, of that she was certain. The entity inside her transmitted it to her. It had only been in her body for such a short time, but already she could sense the demon wrapping her in its filthy, rancid darkness. How long before it possessed her entirely? How long before nothing of her remained?

* * *

At home, Mrs. Sinclair was busying herself in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. She didn’t notice Vi’s arrival, for which the tortured woman was grateful. Vi made her unsteady way up the stairs, clinging to the banister for dear life.

Once inside her room, she was equally grateful for the coolness afforded by the partially open window. She half fell on the bed and lay there for some minutes, trying to catch her breath, which felt compressed by a great weight she knew to be the burden she carried inside her.

“You are ready for the next stage, Violet. I am here to conduct you.”

Vi opened her eyes. Sandrine was sitting, one silk-stockinged leg crossed elegantly over the other, in a chair on the opposite side of the room. The sun framed her black hair in a halo. Ironic, Vi thought, considering she was the antithesis of a saint.

“What do you want from me and why is this…thing inside me? What does it want? It’s killing me.”

Sandrine spread her hands expansively. “It merely wishes to be born and to be welcomed by its mother.”

“Never. I had no part in its conception and I am having no part in its life. I need to get it out of me. Now.”

“That won’t be possible. Oh, you won’t be troubled by it inside you for much longer. A few days maybe. No more. Then we will take it.”

At last, a ray of hope. “And that will be an end of it?”

“Naturally. We only needed a host body. The right host body.”

“And why is that me? I’m nothing special. Nothing out of the ordinary. If you picked me, you could as easily have chosen anyone off the street.”

“Possibly, but you were the one we wanted. We took great care in selecting the right one. You have no idea the measures we took.”

“I have some idea.” Vi shifted position. With the advent of Sandrine, the creature inside her seemed to have calmed down. Soothed perhaps by her voice, recognizing one of its own. But however much the easing of the excruciating pain was welcome, Vi was still far from comfortable and now had a vile taste in her mouth. Part copper, part something that tasted like rotten cabbage mixed with eggs that had gone off. She craved a drink of water. Or, better still, a cup of tea, to take away the horrible taste and assuage a thirst that was fast developing.

“Your friend, Tilly, won’t be coming back here. She’s going to be working and staying in the Dock for at least a week, maybe more if we need her to.”

The implication of Sandrine’s words hit her from all directions at once. Fear of being left virtually alone with Sandrine or one of her henchmen – perhaps Alex – piled onto her now-firm conviction that Sandrine’s dark forces had infiltrated the government at its highest levels. Was the Prime Minister aware of what was going on? Memories of her encounters with Churchill flashed through her mind. He had been the only one who acknowledged the reality of Sandrine and her cronies when everyone else, from Tilly onward, denied their existence.

Vi became aware that Sandrine was watching her, one eyebrow slightly cocked. Could she read her thoughts? It seemed pretty much anything was possible for that one. Vi swallowed what little saliva remained. “So, what is to happen to me?”

“You will stay here and have the baby. We will know when it is about to be born and someone will come to assist you.”

“But, Mrs. Sinclair—”

The door opened.

Sandrine looked over Vi’s head at the person who entered. “Amelia. Please come in. I have been explaining to Violet what will happen in a few days’ time.”

Vi struggled to turn round, inhibited by the bulk which seemed to have grown even larger in the last few minutes.

“Mrs. Sinclair!”

The landlady looked from Sandrine to her, unsmiling. “It was always meant to be. You were always supposed to come to me.”

Sandrine stood. “I shall leave you two now. Until we meet again, Violet, here’s something to remember me by.” She tossed a studio photograph of herself onto the bed. “You have been helpful in ways you couldn’t possibly begin to imagine.”

“If I have, it’s because you’ve taken everything from me. Even my own brother. You didn’t have to take him. He did you no harm.”

Sandrine paused at the door. “Didn’t he? He didn’t tell you he wanted to join us, did he? He didn’t say that he would do anything to keep me. Anything I asked of him. And I asked plenty, Violet. Without him you wouldn’t have obtained your position at the Treasury or been given that promotion to work in the Cabinet War Rooms. He was involved in far more than merely flying. He was in covert operations. A spy. For your side. He didn’t tell you that, did he? He allowed me to enter his mind. He couldn’t help himself.” She smiled and the sight chilled Vi.

“Poor George. He was so willing, so malleable, so besotted with me, he kept nothing back. He gave me everything. I even saw your entire childhood played out in front of me. I saw you in your mother’s womb. I knew then you were the chosen one.

“You have collected and amassed so many memories for us. Your meetings with Churchill, the documents you have typed for him and for his senior officials. All of this and more is stored in your brain and now, in the brain of your soon-to-be-born offspring. There are others like you, Violet. Other young women we have – shall we say, recruited? Some here in Britain, some in the United States, Canada, France. Oh, you would be amazed at what we have learned and what we shall continue to learn.”

Vi sat in stunned silence throughout all this. Sandrine moved to leave the room. Vi found her voice. “And you are going to sell these secrets to the enemy?”

Sandrine turned back. “The enemy? Oh, you mean Hitler. Among others, yes. But he is only one of the megalomaniacs currently at work. They come and they go. Our work continues. Our purpose is far greater than the petty ambitions of a tin-pot dictator or two. They serve us and our ends for a while, but we grow stronger while they weaken and fade into history. It has been like this for all time. Once you have played your part, your obligation to us will end and you will go on with your life. It wasn’t the same for your brother. His was to have been a lifetime commitment and he reneged on it. When he realized he could never have me, he tried to escape us.” Sandrine and Mrs. Sinclair shook their heads. “So foolish. He could have died a hero’s death. That is what was mapped out for him. But instead….” She let her words hang while, once again, the image of a burning aircraft, hurtling downward, flashed into Vi’s mind.

Sandrine left with Mrs. Sinclair close behind her. Vi sank back on the bed, exhausted. She closed her eyes and finally, a mercifully dream-free sleep claimed her.

* * *

Hours passed. Maybe even days. It was night. Or perhaps day, but with the now-permanent blackout in her room, how could she know? She tried to lift herself from the bed and couldn’t. Then they would come. Mrs. Sinclair and…something. Such an ordinary, respectable name, Sinclair. Not her real identity, of course. Glimpses Vi caught of her made her wonder if she was even human. Sometimes, the landlady would enter her room when she thought Vi was asleep. She wouldn’t bother with the lamp, and didn’t appear to need one, but a stray shaft of light from the landing revealed a body too tall and thin to be who she purported to be. The neck, long and sinewy. A strange guttural croak emanated from her mouth when she breathed. Vi would clamp her eyes tightly shut. Whatever this was, she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t even know if she was awake or asleep, and all the while, the thing inside her kept her under its increasingly firm control. Her thoughts were shared with it, her feelings suppressed by it, her emotions spent by it.

Time passed.

They moved her sometimes. They would take her to the bathroom. There she would use the toilet, on command, except they weren’t issuing orders to her, they were encouraging the thing inside her to perform her bodily functions. She didn’t eat for herself. They inserted a tube in her arm and drip-fed her some concoction meant to nourish that creature. At these times, a foul sulfur taste wafted up into her mouth, making her gag. They would hold her down, inject her with something and the nausea would pass over, leaving her ever more exhausted.

All concept of passing time gone, she had no idea whether days, weeks or even months had passed when the first agonizing shard of pain hit her and a warm gush escaped her. Did she cry out? Was that why they came so fast? Or did the thing inside her summon them?

The light was snapped on. Her bleary eyes picked out Sandrine, Alex, Mrs. Sinclair and someone she could not recognize. Others stood out of her vision. A male voice she recognized. Glennister was in the room.

The chanting began. In that strange language she had heard at the stone circle on the night the beast, Eligos, raped her and the creature was conceived.

Sandrine stood over her, robed in a deep red velvet gown that seemed to swim before Vi’s eyes. The woman raised something gold in color and Vi could make it out as a chalice like ones she had seen in church. Sandrine’s lips were more scarlet than ever, and Vi had a sudden thought they might be stained with blood. But whose?

The chanting grew louder. The air was filled with the iron stench of blood. Vi’s legs were pulled apart and secured in stirrups. She tried to struggle but realized they had tied her hands so that she was spread-eagled. Her movements were like those of a frightened, tortured kitten. She could only moan and squirm, and every sound, every movement, struck through her with an agonizing clarity of how sharp pain could be.

The creature wanted her to stop. It wanted her to cease any struggle or protest. It hurt too much to resist. The next wave of pain came at her through a fog. As if it was happening to someone else and she was a witness. She almost fancied she was on the outside of her body, seeing the blood-streaked sheets, her own thighs, dripping with the stuff and with other fluids. Amniotic, maybe worse. The stench in the room was almost unbearable. The stifling heat and the constant chanting. No one spoke to her, no one comforted her. No one even noticed she was anything other than a machine producing their cherished new life.

One almighty wrench threatened to tear out her intestines, bowels, every part of her insides.

Vi let out a long, drawn-out scream, followed by another and another. The thing didn’t try to stop her. It was no longer there. She heard it as it was wrapped in a blanket and carried lovingly away by Mrs. Sinclair. No baby cries. This baby produced a raucous caw like that of a crow.

The chanting turned to celebration as the assembled small group congratulated each other, heedless of the suffering woman on the bed. Vi slipped in and out of consciousness.

Finally, when she awoke, she found they had changed her bed, washed and dressed her in a clean-smelling nightdress. Someone had even placed a small vase of violets next to her. She tried to sit up, but her stomach hurt too much.

Scared at what she might find, she pulled back the sheet and blanket and lifted her nightie. Her thighs were bruised, as were her ankles. She opened her legs and peered down, careful not to strain her already tortured muscles.

From what she could see, she wasn’t in such bad shape. Certainly nothing like she expected after the terrible pain. That seemed now as if it had happened to someone else. Maybe it had. Her head felt full of cotton wool and she lay back against the cool pillows.

The door opened and her landlady came in, bearing a cup of tea.

“I thought you might appreciate this,” she said. “After you’ve been so poorly. You look a little better today, dear, how are you feeling?”

Vi stared at her. “Feeling?”

The landlady looked perplexed. “Yes, you had a fever. Perhaps you don’t remember. Fevers do that sometimes. Goodness alone knows where you got it from, but you’ve been quite out of it for about a week now. The doctor advised Tilly to stay at work in case she caught it as well. Being as how we’ve no idea what it is or was.”

“I don’t believe this. You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” Vi threw back the bedclothes and then wished she hadn’t. Dizziness swept over her. Her breasts felt sore and tender, but, surely, she should be lactating? There was no sign of that.

Mrs. Sinclair set down the cup of tea and helped her back into bed. “Come now, it’s obviously too soon for you to be getting up. Stay quietly here for another day and then see how you feel. I’ll bring up some nice chicken soup later. They say it’s good for getting you back on your feet.”

Vi felt breathless. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what, dear?”

“The…baby.”

Mrs. Sinclair’s eyes opened wide. “Baby? What baby?”

“The one I had. The one you took out of me.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I think I’d better send for the doctor again. You’re delirious.”

“No, I’m not. You know perfectly well that you, Sandrine, Alex and that man, Glennister, are all in this together.” As she spoke, Vi realized that, to a sane person, she must sound mad, but she knew what she knew. “You’re in some black magic sect and you conjured up a devil. I have now had its child and you’ve taken it away. I don’t know what you’re feeding it on because it certainly doesn’t seem to be coming from me, but then that…thing… isn’t even human, is it?”

Mrs. Sinclair stared at her in such disbelief Vi even began to doubt the truth of her own words.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Mrs. Sinclair left before Vi could protest. Her head swam and she lay back.

The next sound she heard was that of an unfamiliar male calling her name. “Violet, Violet, it’s Doctor Logan. Can you hear me?”

Vi opened her eyes. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“Mrs. Sinclair tells me you have had a nasty fever.”

“Yes, she does, doesn’t she? She also said she called you in earlier to see me.”

“No, that wasn’t me. My colleague probably. I’ve been away in the country for a couple of weeks.”

“Then surely a record of it will be in my notes.”

“Probably. I haven’t seen them and it’s quite possible my colleague may not have had time to write them up. There is a war on, you know. I’m afraid some paperwork becomes a little neglected. Now, the good news is I’ve taken your temperature and it’s normal. But I understand from Mrs. Sinclair that you’re suffering from some rather odd delusions.”

“They’re not delusions, doctor, they actually happened. You can tell if I’ve recently had a baby, can’t you? Examine me and you’ll see.”

The doctor exchanged glances with Mrs. Sinclair, who was standing nearby, arms folded, her lips pursed.

“Very well,” he said.

He gently examined her and after less than a minute, pulled the sheet back over her.

“Well?” Vi said. “Do you believe me now?”

The doctor folded his stethoscope and pushed it into his bag. “I can find no evidence that you have had a baby in the recent past. Obviously, I would have to perform a more detailed internal examination to determine whether or not you had ever been pregnant, but as to the question of whether or not you have produced a child within the last few weeks? No, you have not.”

“But that’s impossible.” He was lying. He was in on it. One of them. That was the only explanation.

The doctor fumbled in his bag and produced a sealed hypodermic and a small bottle. “Lie still, please.”

“No. I won’t. You can’t do this.”

“It’s for your own good, Violet.” Mrs. Sinclair grabbed her arms and held her still. Vi was too weak to put up more than a perfunctory struggle. She felt the sharp prick of the needle in her arm and a buzzing cloud descended on her.

* * *

The sun was shining and the sound of birds twittering outside the window drifted into Vi’s consciousness. She blinked at the unaccustomed bright light pouring into the room. Tilly stood by the window and turned as Vi shifted in bed.

“Hello, old thing,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Vi shielded her eyes with her hand and struggled to sit up. “What time is it? What day is it?”

“Just after ten. Thursday.”

“And the date?”

“Gracious, you have been out of it, haven’t you? June twenty-third. Oh, and by the way, we no longer appear to have a landlady. I got back late last night, let myself in and came up to find you sleeping soundly. The house was so quiet, and I felt something wasn’t right. There were no lights on anywhere and Mrs. Sinclair’s door was open. I peered inside and her bed was neatly made up. I checked her wardrobe and cupboards. All empty. She’s scarpered and something tells me we won’t be seeing her again in a hurry. I mean, she’s taken everything with her. All her possessions, clothes, the lot. All that’s left is food and household stuff. Really odd.”

“No, it makes sense in a way. If anything about this can make any kind of sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

Tilly came to sit on the edge of the bed. “I bet I would. Try me.” She rolled up the sleeve of her cardigan and turned her inner forearm to face Vi. Odal’s rune had been tattooed into her skin, leaving sore red welts around it.

Vi gasped. “Did they burn it in?”

“I’ve no idea. I don’t think so. I was in the Dock one night, asleep, and had some really weird dreams. When I woke in the morning, my arm felt sore and…there it was. This was about three days ago. They’d told me you had this fever and asked if I was prepared to put in some extra shifts, staying in the Dock so I wouldn’t come home and catch whatever it is you had. Here, let me help you. Can’t let a woman in your condition….” Vi was half out of bed and Tilly’s gaze was fixed on her midriff. “Where’s it gone?”

“Thank God. I began to think I really had imagined it all.” Vi told an increasingly befuddled Tilly all that had happened. Including Mrs. Sinclair’s involvement.

“And you don’t know where they’ve taken it?”

Vi shook her head. She shifted position on the bed, sitting on the edge with her feet resting on the floor. “Frankly, I’m relieved it’s all over. That part anyway. The problem is, I don’t know what other plans they have.”

Tilly sighed.

“What’s the matter? You look as if you want to tell me something, but you don’t know how. Just come out with it.”

“Very well,” Tilly said. “There are more of you. More young women who’ve been chosen to be the bearers of this evil deity’s offspring. It’s all part of Hitler’s plan for a superrace of Aryan conquerors. At least that’s what they’re saying in Whitehall.”

Sandrine’s words came back to Vi. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been doing your job while you’ve been away. I’ve been typing stuff. Of course, I shouldn’t have told you any of this and they’ll probably shoot me as a traitor if they ever find out I have, but let’s face it, if anyone needs to know, you do. And the other poor blighters who’re going through what you are.”

Vi shifted slightly, trying to make herself more comfortable. “What you’ve just told me is exactly what Sandrine said. There are more of us. According to Sandrine, that sect of hers or whatever it is, is merely using Hitler for their own ends. Unless I imagined it, she told me he was only one of a long line of power-mad dictators they have used down through the ages. But surely what you’ve been typing should have been encrypted. You shouldn’t understand a word of it.”

“Don’t let this dotty, yet Hollywood-perfect, exterior fool you,” Tilly laughed. “I’m quite a dab hand at the old code breaking when I set my mind to it. They weren’t exactly using anything a child of six would have had any real problems with. Well, a child of six with any kind of mathematical brain anyway.”

“You should be in the secret service,” Vi said.

Tilly laughed and tapped the side of her nose.

“You’re not….”

“Oh, heavens no, Vi, I’m nowhere near good enough – or brave enough. But I did do some of the basic training and that was enough, I can tell you. They really put you through it. They even try a form of brainwashing the Nazis use. Pretty bloody frightening. You don’t know whether you’re yourself or someone else half the time.”

Now seemed as good a time as any. Vi plunged in. “I have to ask you. Do you really not remember living with Mrs. Harris in her house in Boscawen Walk? Don’t you remember the night the plane came down and took half the street with it? Mrs. Harris had a heart attack and died, right there on the street in my arms. You went to get help.”

“I’ve thought long and hard about this because I know you believe it. I even managed to get access to our personnel records – don’t ask me how, the fewer people who know about my little ruse the better. Suffice it to say, our records are sketchy to say the least. And what’s there has been doctored. Quite expertly but, like I said, I had some basic training in the Special Operations Executive. I know how to spot a forgery, even a clever one. Look, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if I hadn’t already checked this place for electronic bugs. I don’t remember Boscawen Walk or a Mrs. Harris, but I can quite believe that you, I, or both of us have been targeted. I think you deserve to know what I’ve found out – especially after what happened to you.”

Tilly moved closer. “Vi, you must never, ever tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Only the PM and a handful of trusted people right at the top know this. I doubt even the King has been told. Some old friends of mine have been doing a bit of digging around and what they’ve discovered is enough to turn our hair white. I would love to say that we’re dealing with mere humans here, and in some cases we are. Living, breathing, evil humans like Hitler and his cronies, but the power they worship is far stronger than they are. It won’t be so easily destroyed. Churchill can’t bomb it, gas it or neutralize it with chemical weapons. It’s been part of this world since time began and all we can do is try to contain it for our generation. As for future generations….” She spread her hands expansively. “All the information we have is kept. Including the reports that come in under the Mass Observation project that don’t, well, let’s say, that don’t fit the normal bill. They call it ‘Dark Observation’. In fact, without the MO project we wouldn’t have known there were more than one or two examples of impregnation and abduction.”

“You mean, women like me?”

“Exactly. There are, at present, probably a couple of dozen, or maybe up to a hundred, scattered about throughout the country. They follow a pattern. Just like yours. The mother is normally released, as you were, and left to get on with her own life. Generally, she has no maternal feelings for the offspring and is only relieved to be rid of its evil influence and presence. Occasionally things don’t go according to plan and the mother wants to keep it.”

“And does she?” Vi asked.

Tilly shook her head. “Not as far as my friends can tell. Every case like that, so far, has resulted in the mother turning up mysteriously killed. Of course, during wartime, it’s easy to dispose of a body. Wait for an air raid. Add to the casualty list. No one asks any questions.”

Vi shuddered. “Looks like I had a lucky escape.”

“You certainly did the right thing by not deciding that now was the time you wanted to be a mother.”

“After this, I don’t think I ever will.”

Tilly looked at her seriously. “Oh, I think you will. Vi. One day. When the right man comes along and the stars are aligned, as they say. I reckon you’ll have a daughter and you will be very proud of her.”

Vi laughed and then realized. Her friend was being serious. As if she had somehow peered into the future and seen her friend’s life mapped out for her. She nodded. “Right.” Would any of this ever make sense? One day, maybe, then Vi and her friend would sit down over a glass of warm beer and reminisce. But, right now, that day was a long way off. If ever.