“Look after my girls, please.”
“Of course, Vera, could you imagine two more perfect gentlemen?” replied Bill, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Vera was in her late thirties, a good ten years older than Bill. Outwardly, she brimmed with confidence and had a commanding air about her. But she always looked on edge in a way Bill could never quite place, almost world-weary.
“Actions speak louder than words. If I get either of my girls or the staff car back in anything other than perfect condition, I’ll have your guts for garters!”
“Understood. Thanks for letting us use the motor.”
“That car had better be back here by oh nine hundred hours and no later. If the colonel realises it’s gone, you’ll be losing both your pips and your head. Seriously, though, Bill, look after them, especially Lena. Violette has been to France once already, she’s a tough cookie, but Lena is still just a girl and doesn’t need the likes of you scaring her off before she’s even started,” Vera replied, rummaging through the drawer full of various keys.
Vera was Romanian, and the word around F-Section was that she was not to be trusted. Bill assumed this was in no small part because of the other popular rumour that she was a Jew. Some were even convinced that she was a double agent. Bill never trusted rumours. He’d far rather judge people as good or bad with his own two eyes.
“Going anywhere nice?” she asked.
Bill watched her sorting through the metallic jumble of keys. Then, finding the correct one, she placed it gently into Bill’s hand and tried to hide her smile.
“Probably the picture house and maybe a row on the lake.”
“Very romantic, I’m sure,” she remarked, grinning. “Pop the key back into the drawer when you get back. And, Bill …”
“What is it, ma’am?” Bill always pronounced it to rhyme with arm, not like ham.
“Don’t ma’am me, Bill. It makes me sound like an old lady, and I’m only a civilian, remember? Not clubbable enough for the bastards to commission me, still.”
“A couple of pips on your shoulder doesn’t change what you are doing to win this war, and it’s more than most, Vera.”
“Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it.” She bit her bottom lip as she fought to find the courage, then perched herself on her desk and fumbled for her pack of Senior Service.
Vera only ever smoked Senior Service. Bill instinctively pulled a match from his case as she dragged one out and placed it carefully between her lips. He had resisted and resigned not to learn a great deal from his time at boarding school, but manners had been drummed into him early on.
“Look, in case I don’t see you before you leave, if you get the opportunity, ask around what’s happened to my girls, would you? We’ve lost contact with so many over the years. I still live in the hope that some evaded capture and are in hiding with the Resistance.”
“… And we all know how disorganised they can be,” Bill added.
Vera exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked to the floor for inspiration. “One more thing. Lena still thinks you are all going over together. I felt it would be better for Lena to tough it out alone. Plus, they were a man down on another team and need someone with experience in the field, so I have reassigned Violette elsewhere. She knows, but Lena doesn’t yet. So best keep it that way for now. Besides, she has you two idiots to look after her.”
Bill, a little stunned, didn’t reply but smiled at her joking insult.
“I know you are surprised, but it’s how it is.”
“Yes, of course,” Bill said, regaining his composure, “I understand. I think Jack will be a little disappointed.”
“Yes. Just … you know …”
“I will.”
“Good luck, Bill,” she said, smiling kindly.