The vast buildings of London that still stood seemed to engulf Sibbie, as she and Marjie alighted from their taxi in Baker Street. As Sibbie looked up, she had the feeling they were proudly proclaiming to the world that they had survived the Blitz with honours.
Finding Druce & Co. furniture store on the corner, as instructed, the girls didn’t speak as they entered the hallway of the doorway next to the shop. Sibbie’s first impression was of entering someone’s home, as the thick golden-brown carpet silenced their tread.
They were shown into a large waiting room with leather chairs placed around the walls. A table in the centre held newspapers and magazines. Neither Sibbie nor Marjie bothered with these, and both of them, attacked by nerves, sat together and waited quietly.
Sibbie was called first by a young army officer, who didn’t introduce herself. ‘Would you come this way, Miss Roford? You are to see CD. We don’t use names or ranks here, just code letters. M will also be present.’
This added to Sibbie’s nerves, but she marched behind the officer, feeling as if she were on a charge for some misdemeanour.
Sitting in a cafe an hour later, Sibbie could tell that although they hadn’t yet talked about their experience, Marjie was as excited as she was. The briefing had been just that: very brief and to the point. ‘You will be told nothing about the expectations of you, or what your role will be, until you have passed out from several training courses. The first one will be an assessment process – a preliminary training course. If you get through that, you will be told what is next. In the meantime, say absolutely nothing about your experience today, or what you know so far. Enjoy the rest of your leave, as if it is your last, and report back here one week from today, at ten a.m. precisely.’ And that was that.
‘What did you think, Marjie?’
‘I’m not sure, but somehow, I don’t think we should discuss it here. Let’s talk when we’re back at our boarding house, as we pack for Scotland. We only have two hours before we catch our overnight train, and I’m hungry. I think I’ll order a pie and peas – I really enjoyed that yesterday.’
With this, Sibbie felt she had learned her first lesson, and that Marjie was more prepared than she was for what might lie in store for them. Feeling a little ashamed of herself, she left the subject alone. ‘That would be lovely.’
As Marjie got up to order, Sibbie had the strange feeling that a change had already taken place in her cousin and her best friend in the world. It was as if she was saying, ‘I’m ready.’ Sibbie wondered if she should feel like that, instead of having this excited feeling of a great adventure opening up to her. But then it was an adventure, and surely that was a better way of looking at what might lie ahead for them, as it would mean they accepted whatever they were getting into.
Shrugging her shoulders, she decided that however Marjie wanted to deal with whatever lay in store for them, she would respect it. One thing she did know: both of them wanted – no, longed – for this to lead to them working in France. How, and as what, she didn’t know; her imagination would only show her the terrifying world of an undercover agent. Am I up to that? Something told Sibbie that she would soon find out.
On the overnight train to Scotland, they found themselves in a carriage on their own and were at last able to chat, as there had been no time once they arrived at the boarding house, having had to wait longer for their meal than they had anticipated.
‘My impression was that we are to be tested to our limits, Sibbie. And if we get through, I think it is certain that we will be working undercover. Why else would such secrecy surround our future?’
‘Yes, I’ve come to that conclusion, and it frightens me.’
‘I think that to be frightened is good. It gives you an edge and keeps you on your toes. I’m desperate to succeed. Even if we don’t go to France, I will stand a good chance of getting information as part of an undercover movement.’
‘I am desperate, too, for the same reason and the possibility of being able to contact Paulo.’
‘Oh dear, do you think our motives are the wrong ones?’
Sibbie thought about this for a moment. ‘Marjie, I think they may be, but strong motivation is a good thing.’
‘Yes, I can see that.’
‘Then I can’t see us failing. Let’s try to get some sleep, eh? It’s been a long day.’ With this, Sibbie put her rucksack on the bench seat opposite, to use as a pillow, and unfolded the blanket that had been left for her use. Marjie did the same.
The gentle sway of the train, and the rhythm of its wheels on the track, soon lulled Sibbie to sleep. A sleep in which she dreamed she was running across a field and Paulo was running towards her. Happiness filled her, until they reached each other and Paulo suddenly disappeared. Anguish got her waking for a moment, only to fall back to sleep almost immediately and for the dream to resume. Now they were together in a beautiful, peaceful light, holding hands, and Paulo was looking into her eyes. ‘We’ll never be apart again, my darling Sibbie.’
The next time she woke, Sibbie checked her watch and found it was five in the morning. She could see nothing through the windows, as it was still dark. Sitting up, she couldn’t understand the unsettled feeling that haunted her from her dream. Shaking it off, she decided to go to the bathroom a few carriages down and freshen up, before Marjie woke.
By the time this was done, Sibbie had rationalized her feelings and laughed at herself. If the dream could come true, she’d be the happiest person alive, though she hoped the part where Paulo disappeared never, ever happened.
‘Eeh, lass, it’s good to see you. Your ma’s going to be over the moon. And this here is Marjella. My, you’re a pretty lass, just like that photo Mags showed me of your ma. Now, let me give you a cuddle, Sibbie lass. Eeh, I’ve missed you.’
Aunt Betsy’s cuddles were always comforting. Her huge, soft bosom was like a cushion of love to Sibbie and had, on many an occasion, eased her distress if something had upset her. Just to be snuggled into Aunt Betsy was a good feeling.
‘Now, Sibbie lass, your ma’s in the shop. We have a different set-up in there. We’re using the storeroom at the back as a workroom where we make warm clothing to send to the Red Cross. By, it’s grand work. We make socks and woolly vests, and scarves and hats. Our outworkers help, and some of the youngsters of the village an’ all. They knit squares, which we sew together to make blankets.’
‘Well, you have been busy. Daisy told us you were both going to make an effort for the war. I think what you are doing is wonderful. And I’m glad you’re busy, and coping.’
‘It helps, let’s put it that way, but an aching heart for you all is my constant companion.’
Sibbie took Betsy into her arms this time and held her close. ‘We have it to do, Aunt Betsy. And remember, you prepared your children – and Mum prepared me – for whatever we came up against in life, so we’re all well equipped to cope.’
‘I hope so, lass, I hope so.’
Coming out of the cuddle, Sibbie saw Betsy wipe away a tear. This brought home how much she was suffering. ‘At least you still have Rod at home. Oh, I know as he is in danger out at sea all the time, but Angus will keep him safe.’
‘Aye, he is, lass. A very brave lad, and I’m proud of him. Like you say, he is in danger, and that adds to me worries. But you knaw, no matter how long this war goes on, they won’t take him to fight. He’s had a lot of pain in the arches of his feet and the doctor told him that he has flat feet, and he should be glad of them as they’d save him from going to war. That put him in the doldrums as he’s been counting the days off, hoping he’d make the age limit before it was all over, but for me it were the best news going.’
Sibbie nearly did a jig, she felt that happy. ‘That’s good news, Aunt Betsy. He’ll never have to go to war now. Have you written to the girls about this? I know they will be so happy to hear their brother will always be here with you.’
‘Aye, though when Daisy and Florrie will get their letters, I don’t knaw. My only hope now is that Rosie isn’t sent abroad an’ all, then I’ll have peace of mind about two of me brood.’
Sibbie didn’t answer this, but told Betsy, ‘Daisy and Florrie got off all right. We were at the station with Rosie to see them board the train.’
‘Eeh, I’m glad. That’s made me day. I thought they’d have no one to wave them off, as Rosie wasn’t certain she’d get leave. Ta, Sibbie. Now, we’re leaving poor Marjella to twiddle her thumbs. Come on, lass, let me greet you the northern way, with a hug.’
Marjie just giggled and accepted the hug. Sibbie could see that she was getting used to the way of how things were done up in the North.
‘You should have visited us afore now, but then you had your studying, and that was important. Let me get me coat and bonnet and we’ll go down to the shop. I daren’t even offer you a hot cuppa, as your ma will be mad at me for not bringing you down sooner. But she couldn’t take today off, as we have a collection tomorrow. She’s the knitter and, as you knaw, the one who is wonderful with her sewing – you can’t even see where she’s joined them squares together. I’m all right at them crafts, but not as good as Sue. I’m better at the pottery, and at painting and varnishing the pottery items for the shop.’
The girls were out of the door before all this was told to them and following Aunt Betsy down the slope.
Marjie gasped at the beauty that met them. ‘It is like a painting. So different from my home by the sea. We have blue sea and sky and forests and a mountain backdrop, and here is rugged, wild and, well, stunning.’
Sibbie glowed at this praise of her home town. ‘As you know, Mum’s a Londoner, and did consider taking us back to London when Montel died; she loved him dearly, he was such a good friend to her, and like a father to me.’
‘Yes, I have heard a lot about him from Aunt Mags – she and Montel were very much in love, weren’t they? And the story of his life is fascinating, with his escape from France and then his eventual recognition by the French as a hero. I would so love to have known him.’
‘Montel was an amazing man, and being here I feel so close to him, even though it was the scene of his terrible death. I feel he rests easy on these shores. And I think that’s what helped Mum make her mind up to stay. Though she kept some of her heritage – always insisting that I call her “Mum” and never letting me pick up the local Scottish accent, or the Blackburn one that Betsy and the girls have. Not that there is anything wrong with either. I just think she wanted to hold on to a bit of herself.’
Marjie linked arms with Sibbie and then did the same with Betsy, who smiled warmly. Sibbie thought it a lovely gesture and squeezed Marjie’s hand in appreciation.
‘I’m glad you like our little neck of the woods, Marjella. I love it, but by, I miss Blackburn at times. Folk here are lovely, but it ain’t like them back in me home town. I knew them all as lived around. I expect it were the same for your ma, Sibbie, though she never says so. What you just said shows it, though – there’s nowt can substitute for your beginnings. Now, here we are.’
Betsy opened the huge wooden doors at the back of the shop building, which were about the only reminder that this had once been a boathouse.
‘Mum! Oh, Mum!’ For some reason, Sibbie felt all her pent-up emotion gush from her at the sight of her mother. Tears streamed down her face.
‘Sibbie, my Sibbie. Oh, it’s so good to hold you. I’ve missed you so much,’ Susan said.
Hearing this and the sob in her mum’s voice, Sibbie controlled her feelings. The last thing she wanted was to worry her mother. ‘We’re a daft pair. I didn’t mean to blab. I’m just so happy to see you.’
‘And me, you. How long can you stay?’
‘A few days. We have to report to London in a week . . . Oh, I mean— Well, I do have news, Mum, but I’ll tell you when you’re not working. Now, let me introduce Marjie.’
‘Well, Marjie, it’s lovely to meet you at last. I can see you are a Roford, like . . . I mean, I – I . . .’
‘It’s all right, honestly. I am like my mother, though everyone says I am like my father as well.’
The moment was awkward for Sibbie, as it brought her history into focus – the long-running affair that her mum had had with Marjie’s late uncle, Harold Roford, her genetic father. But there seemed to be something more. As if her mum had nearly blurted something out. What it was, Sibbie couldn’t imagine. Only now, Mum was all of a fluster.
Sibbie took the best action she thought possible. ‘We’ll go for a walk, Mum, and let you finish your work. We’ll climb the steps to the Portpatrick Hotel. Do they still have afternoon teas? I’m famished.’
‘Eeh, we can put the kettle on here, lass – can’t we, Susan?’
‘But we need to eat, Aunt Betsy. We snatched a sandwich on the station at Glasgow, between running to catch the connection to Stranraer. And then we had the bus journey here. We’ll be fine – a walk will do us good.’
‘Are you sure, Sibbie? I didn’t embarrass you, did I, girl?’
‘No, Mum, why should you? We’ll see you later, when you get in. Is the key in the usual place or is Rory home?’
‘No, he’s out on his deliveries. Not that he has much meat to deliver these days, but he comes by a bit from the poachers. Though he spends most of his time on the boats, with Angus and Roderick. We’re planning to all eat at ours together tonight. I’ve everything ready to put on, and Angus will bring the fish to fry – he’ll gut it ready for me.’
‘That sounds wonderful, Mum. I love fresh fish. See you later then.’ Sibbie linked arms with Marjie and turned her round as she called her goodbyes.
‘Sorry about that, Marjie. Poor Mum got herself tongue-tied.’
Marjie was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, she shocked Sibbie with what she said. ‘Sibbie, I’ve always thought there is a lot about the past that we don’t know. And I got the feeling then that your mum knows what it is. I felt there was more than her just having an affair with my mama’s brother, Harold. I won’t call him “Uncle”, as from what I have heard about him, he doesn’t deserve the title . . . Oh, I’m sorry, I know he was your father, but . . .’
‘Don’t be. It has given me a lovely cousin in you, and a lovely aunt in Aunt Flors, not to mention how my relationship with Aunt Mags became so close. That said, I hate to even mention his name. I do get the feeling, though, that my mother once loved Harold very much. I don’t suppose we will ever know the truth about what went on.’
‘No, nor why my mama and papa ended up in France, almost exiles, and had nothing more to do with Mama’s family.’
‘Let’s forget it all for now. Come on, it’s quite a climb to the hotel – that’s it up there. I hope they have something nice to serve us.’
The hotel manager remembered Sibbie and fussed over them, bringing them delicious baked-ham sandwiches and even a slice of fruitcake. ‘Chef has found some ingenious ways of adapting his recipes to the shortages, and I bet you can’t tell the difference, Sibbie. Tuck in and enjoy; we’re very proud of you and all our young people, for all they are doing in the war effort. Though we miss you all, and your giggles.’
Sibbie laughed. ‘I bet it’s really peaceful now without us. Thanks, Mr Duffy, this looks lovely and is very welcome.’
Mr Duffy beamed before leaving them alone. Sibbie glanced out of the window. Below her lay the whole of the bay of Portpatrick – her home. A wistful feeling entered her, one she hadn’t felt since this adventure began, but one that tugged at her heart now, as she wondered if she would ever see it again after she left to take up her new challenge in life.
Sibbie ached in places she didn’t know she had, and neither sitting nor standing helped to relieve them. Marjie had fared better, sailing through the initial rigorous training with ease. Her encouragement had been all that had got Sibbie through it.
They had arrived in Arisag House, somewhere in the Inverness area, a week after they had left Portpatrick, and after a wonderful few days of fun and laughter, which ended in floods of tears as they said their goodbyes. Now, five weeks later, after intensive training over the unwelcoming terrain of Inverness, they were packing, ready to take the next step of their training.
Already equipped with skills in unarmed combat, taught by two ex-Shanghai municipal police officers, Sibbie was amazed and a little frightened to realize that she could kill a person with techniques that wouldn’t alert anyone in the vicinity. The chilling methods went under the sinister name of ‘silent killing’ and involved using a knife or quick strangulation, and the even tougher breaking of someone’s neck.
Just the thought of having to kill someone – silently or not – had shown her the reality of her own and Marjie’s situation and had terrified Sibbie. But she’d got over this and had enjoyed, and really excelled at, the next method of killing they’d learned: how to ‘shoot from the hip’, a technique where they had to hold their gun close to their hips rather than taking aim; she had been surprised by how quickly she learned to hit the life-sized figure that was fixed to a winch and came at her with great speed.
In this she’d fared better than Marjie, and it had been Sibbie’s turn to help and encourage. They would practise together, with Sibbie hiding and jumping out in front of Marjie, who would have to get her pretend gun into position and shout, ‘Bang!’ just at the right moment. Always they ended up laughing and messing around as if they were youngsters again. These moments helped them both keep everything in perspective.
The demolition and explosives training was something they both enjoyed and were good at. Using dummy explosives, they practised real-life scenarios that got their adrenaline pumping, as the training for this was carried out on a stretch of train line, with a real train coming at them. Laying the charges in darkness, and timing yourself so that you could be in hiding before the train hit them, gave them a feeling for what sabotage meant and how dangerous it was. They both took this part of the training very seriously and soon became experts.
They had become stronger, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. And Sibbie felt at last that she was ready – well, at least to take the next step: further training, which they had been informed would be in the New Forest. For Sibbie, it couldn’t come soon enough, as she felt eager now to get to the next stage, and knew that Marjie was, too.
Still there was no news from family in France, and this worried Sibbie, though she marvelled at how Marjie was coping – in the daytime, that was. Sometimes at night she heard sniffles, but she left Marjie her privacy and pretended to be asleep. She prayed fervently that they would hear from them soon and that it would be good news.