23

Alice

LONDON, MARCH 1942

ONE MESSAGE BRINGS HOPE, ANOTHER DESPAIR

The letter came enclosed inside one from the MOD. The noise of it plopping through her letter box interrupted Alice’s routine of getting ready for work – the humdrum daily toil of admin that she had been reduced to doing since she’d recovered from her injuries. Not that she had given in. She’d taken on new challenges and was in the process of fighting through to full physical fitness, to achieve her dream of going back into action, though so far all requests to do so had been turned down. She knew why. Her mental state wasn’t as it should be. The sharpness had gone. A fog of depression hung over her.

Receiving post wasn’t an unusual event, but each time something arrived, it raised her hopes. Skipping down the winding staircase, her hand sliding along the highly polished banister, her feet treading the deep, soft carpet, showed up the sharp contrast between her war work and her life now. But living back at home held no comfort for her.

As she neared the bottom step she could see the brown envelope lying on the silver platter on the hall table – the maid would have put it there. The sight of it stopped her in her tracks, because even from this distance she knew its origin. A dread entered her. Turning the envelope over and over, she went from wishing with all her heart that it didn’t contain bad news to a certainty that it did.

The paper knife in her hand shook as she struggled to control the trembling that rippled through her. The grating noise as she opened the envelope frayed her nerves further. Inside it wasn’t what she was expecting. It wasn’t an official letter. Her name was scrawled in black ink on the envelope inside. Excitement clutched the pit of her stomach at the sight of the crumpled, dirty envelope. The date inside shocked her: 3rd August 1941. Eight months ago!

My darling,

I hope this finds you well and safe. My holiday in Switzerland is to be extended as my broken leg is not looking good. We shall see.

As I cannot travel, my companion will take steps to get this to you, as the post is not reliable. He will also find a way of letting my boss know where I am.

I miss you so much and my heart aches to be with you, but maybe that won’t be too long now. Know that I love you, and remember to look up at the stars each night, as that will connect us.

I am yours forever,

Steve xxx

The breath she’d held released itself, but the knot inside her didn’t. She couldn’t let it unfold. If she did, she would never stop the tide of tears flowing from her. Instead she held the letter to her heart until the urge to undo herself left her.

So Alfonse had taken Steve to Switzerland: thank God! And she presumed Alfonse had then delivered this letter to the British agent attached to his unit of the Resistance. That agent must now be home, as he wouldn’t have risked posting something to the MOD. But what did it matter? Steve was safe. ‘SAFE!’ The joy released from shouting this out loud got her standing. With her arms in the air she danced over to the window and opened it, calling out to no one and yet everyone, ‘He’s safe! He’s safe!’ Her voice came back at her on the swish of the wind as it bowed the trees in the garden. Flakes of snow danced and floated down to the earth, where they melted. Frost whitened the bare branches, raising the morning light to a picture of loveliness that she hadn’t witnessed for a long time, as loveliness hadn’t been able to penetrate the dark place she’d been in.

Shivering against the cold, but laughing at her own antics, she closed the window and tucked the letter into her bra, near her heart, and left the house. Her driver waited, his cap covered in snow. Poor man, if I’d kept him waiting any longer I’d have had to put a carrot in the place where his nose was and two pieces of coal for his eyes! This ridiculous thought brought another giggle from her. Jenson’s look held bewilderment, but she couldn’t enlighten him; she would sound so childish, as this lightness inside her made her like a child again and gave her an urge to be very silly. Resisting it, she managed to say, ‘Good morning, Jenson. It is a lovely one, don’t you think?’

‘Mmm, wouldn’t say that myself, ma’am.’

‘Oh yes, it’s a glorious day. Nearly the best ever!’ That will come when Steve comes home, and somehow I am going to find out when that will be.

Jenson smiled. ‘Nice to see you feeling better, ma’am.’

‘I am, Jenson. I am.’

Feeling better didn’t really describe the emotions bursting for release inside her, but she had no words to explain how she felt.

As the car pulled up outside the War Office, Alice realized she’d travelled through London without seeing any of its wonderful sights. Her head had been with Steve, wondering how he really was and why, after all this time and to her knowledge, he wasn’t home. Why was that? Had he deteriorated? Lost his leg even? Oh God, that could be it! If he’d lost his leg, he would be of little use. They might even leave him in Switzerland until the war ended. The way things were going, that could be years away, as the whole world was now involved. The Japanese seemed unstoppable, having taken Singapore and invaded Bali, and they now had their sights on the Netherlands. Even the American help wasn’t as groundbreaking as everyone had first thought, as they had their own fronts to defend and had suffered heavy losses. At least there was some hope, though, as the news from Libya showed British troops making headway there. But here at home, with rationing gripping everyone harder than ever before, the only relief came from the physical presence of the Americans, or ‘Yanks’ as everyone was calling them. They gave some hope that their help would reap future rewards. On top of that, the optimism they showed had lifted many a person’s spirit.

Alighting from the car and looking over at 10 Downing Street filled her with pride, as it always did. Thank God they had the wonderful Mr Churchill. She did not doubt he would get them through these difficult times. His latest innovation, Operation Outward, held a promise that had given her whole department an excited boost, as they worked through the administration and organization of it and as launch day drew near. The programme would entail attacking Germany with free-flying balloons. These balloons would carry two types of payload: a trailing steel wire that would damage high-voltage power lines by producing short-circuits; and incendiary devices which, it was hoped, would start fires in forests and heathlands. All of those working on the project felt sure that the almost one hundred thousand balloons would cause considerable damage and disruption at hardly any monetary cost and, best of all, no cost in terms of loss of life.

‘Jenson, wait here for me. I hope to go to Baker Street. I will let you know.’

Still attached to the SOE, but on loan to the Department of Warfare, Alice gained permission to have a meeting with Captain Bellows. She hadn’t spoken to him personally since he’d first interviewed her, with a view to her becoming a Special Operations Executive. There was no need for her to go to Baker Street. On requesting time away from her job to seek an appointment with him, and then telephoning his office, she found that Captain Bellows had appointments at the War Office and would see her whilst he was here.

Her heart thumped as she waited outside the office he had commandeered. His assistant called her in, increasing the drumming in her ears. What she intended was not normal protocol, but nothing could stop her. Besides, he must have an inkling of what she needed to talk about, and he hadn’t refused her an audience. This thought gave her hope.

It was hard to read Captain Bellows’s expression, which was as nondescript as before. ‘Sit down, Alice, it is good to see you. How are you? I am getting good reports of your excellent help here.’

‘I am better today than I have been for a long time, which is why I am here. But I think you know that, sir.’

His expression didn’t change. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘I have had word from Ste— Officer Henderson, sir.’

‘Yes, I am aware. Every communication comes through me.’

‘Please, sir. Please try to get him home.’

‘We cannot. Not yet.’

‘Why not? And how long have you known where he is?’

‘That is not a question you should ask, Officer D’Olivier. You know such information is top secret.’ His formal use of her name touched a nerve in her stomach. It showed his anger at her for daring to ask more than she should. She waited, unsure whether she should apologize. Then she felt relief as his voice softened a little. ‘I understand you and Officer Henderson have built a relationship that isn’t fitting in your position, and this is what is driving you to behave as you are. I know it is difficult for you, but I have crossed a boundary by sending you Officer Henderson’s letter. Now, accept that as it is, and carry on as usual. At least you know he is safe.’

‘Would I be allowed to go to Switzerland to see him, sir?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘But why not? I have leave due to me. I can go by train and ship – those waters are safe.’

‘Nothing is safe. You seem to have forgotten your training. We are being watched, you are being watched. I don’t doubt there are moles everywhere, and that movements are known of each and every one of us. If you go rushing to Officer Henderson, someone may put two and two together and realize who he is. Yes, Switzerland is a neutral country, and we are working with them on a way to get Officer Henderson home without raising suspicion, but for you to go there would put him in jeopardy, as well as our whole mission!’

‘Of course – sorry, sir.’ At least I’ve tricked him into revealing that something is being done to get Steve home. That is enough for me. Now, I can wait. But his next words took away all her happiness.

‘Sit down, Alice.’

This unusual request, and the use of her first name once more, alerted her. ‘Is something wrong, sir?’

‘Yes. If you hadn’t requested to see me, I would have sent for you. In fact I came over to the War Office especially to do so. I have news that I know is not going to be good news for you, but is good news for the Special Operations organization and for our country as a whole. We have disposed of the traitor in Paris.’

‘No! No, no, no . . . Oh God, no!’ She was shattered. Gertrude – no, not Gertrude. ‘Please, don’t tell me . . . they haven’t – no!’

‘I’m sorry, but yes. And you must try to look on it as a necessary action. A spy has been exterminated, and no matter what the connection to you – and no one outside my office knows of that connection – this has to be a good thing.’

‘It is not good! That’s two of my family – my father and my half-sister – that you have taken, when the real spy goes free. It is Westlin! General Westlin . . . Please listen to me, please . . .’ The tears she’d blocked earlier ran down her face, and her mind went into a state where all reason left her.

Without telling it to, her body jumped up. She groped for the door and felt the draught of the corridor as she moved down it. Running took her breath away. Gasping against this restriction, she made it to Westlin’s office. Without knocking, she barged in. ‘You fucking spy! You murdering traitor! Rat!’ Clawing at him, she took no heed of Westlin commanding her to stop at once or face a charge, but she did see his face pale and a look of horror pass over it as she shouted at him, ‘I have proof it is you, you bastard! I have my father’s memoirs holding all the evidence he had, but never got to tell. And my father’s mistress’s account, which she – Elsbeth – could not give at the time, or later. I have it all, you rotten, filthy traitor!’

Strong arms restrained her, lifting her off the cringing Westlin. ‘Let me go. It is him you should arrest. Him!’

As the security officer manhandled her away, she saw the worried look on the general’s face and the beads of sweat running down his blank, pale face. Jerking free, she gathered the spittle in her mouth and spat with all the force she could muster. Though she earned a shove that landed her on her back with a guard’s knee on her chest, she had the satisfaction of seeing the spit sliding down Westlin’s ashen face.

She sat and waited on the cold, hard bench of the guardroom. Practised at locking her emotions down, she did not give any heed to the consequences she faced; nor could she grieve for Gertrude, or feel for Elsbeth or Juste. Not even her happiness at knowing that Steve was all right, and that work was in progress to get him home, penetrated her. But the longer she stared at the door with her dry, sore eyes, the more she began to see memories from her life in the grooves of the wood’s grain. As she relived these memories, any small remaining happiness leaked away and she was left with the misery. She did not want to live any more.

This thought took root. Yes, if she lived she would see Steve, but what did that hold for her now? The war raged on and on, and still she or Steve could be killed. So what did it matter when she left this world. There was no ‘if’ to her death at the moment.

My life is worthless now. In my own way I have given all I can to my country. But the powers that be took even more. They’d taken her family; even her mother was a victim of that. Now a shadow of herself and a drooling mess, she hardly knew who her own daughter was any more. But even if she did, Alice doubted she would care.

And the two people that Captain Bellows and other senior officials had disposed of had been branded as cowards, when they weren’t. And now, with her own action in attacking Westlin and accusing him, she herself would be classed as a threat to the team and would more than likely be given a dishonourable discharge. Well, she thought, she would discharge herself – not just from her duty, but from her life.

Undoing her belt, she started to pull it from around her waist. As she did so, the idea came to her to take off her bra, fix it around her neck and then to the belt. She could attach this to the light hanging from the ceiling, by standing on the bench. When all was in place, she would jump. Steve would know why, when he heard about Gertrude’s death. Oh, Gertrude, my sister, my dear, dear sister.

The door opened and Bellows stood there. She stared at him, her hand still now. If he noticed her belt hanging from her skirt, he didn’t remark on it. ‘Have you calmed down, Alice?’

She could not answer. No one else had featured in her plan.

‘I can cover this up. I don’t want it to end as it might. You are a very brave person and have suffered a great deal. Come back to my office, where we can talk. Westlin has been taken for questioning.’

My God! At last . . . With this news Alice’s head cleared and thoughts of ending her life evaporated. What had come over her? She suddenly felt frightened, now that she had an insight into what she was capable of. Dear God, help me. Don’t let me travel the path that my mother has.

‘Sit down, Alice. My assistant is fetching tea. I suggest you have extra sugar in yours, for you have sustained a massive shock. Those who saw your action have been told that you had just heard terrible news and that it involved orders from General Westlin. They understood. They all know that orders are given that cause even our own people to lose their lives – it is how it has to be.’

Sitting down wasn’t something she could refuse as her legs gave way. ‘You say you have arrested Westlin?’

‘Not arrested, no. And as far as all here know, he has been taken home to recover from the attack. But we have asked him to answer some questions. Since you told my superior of your suspicions during your debriefing, we have decided to have him watched. Oh yes, once I heard what you alleged, I wasn’t going to take a blasé attitude. Everything we hear of is passed on for investigation. So far there has been nothing to point suspicion at Westlin, but it won’t hurt to make him sweat a little, just in case.’

‘Thank you. I am deeply sorry for my unprofessional actions, sir.’

‘I know. I also know how low it took you. And I understand. I do. I have to do my duty at all times, Alice, and that makes me have to do some very unpleasant things and take actions that are abhorrent to me. Acting on information, I had to give the orders I did. I am deeply sorry for the way that affected you, and will be even more so, if what you say proves to be the truth. Try to understand.’

‘I do understand your position, sir. I don’t blame you. I have no proof to give you of my knowledge that Westlin is a traitor other than my father’s diaries. And I only have a conviction, based on what I have been told, that my father and half-sister were innocent. I cannot take in what has happened. Why now? How?’

‘Gertrude lay low for months, never leaving the house and never putting herself in the line of fire, so to speak. There was one time when she spotted our hit man.’

‘She knew she was under suspicion?’

‘Yes. A coded message was sent to her by her brother.’

‘No, not Juste! Please tell me you are not gunning for Juste.’

‘No. His was a natural reaction. We don’t look on him as a traitor. He believed his sister, that is all. We do not know where he is. He has disappeared. And the cafe owner has been—’

‘Paolo? You have disposed of Paolo . . . ? No!’

‘There was no choice. He was still loyal to Gertrude. He passed on the message that she was to be killed. We had to remove him. He could have sent her information that would have been very valuable to Herr Eberhardt.’

‘My God! And the others in the group?’

‘All still loyal and in contact.’

‘Which one killed her?’

‘Here, use this.’ He handed her a huge white handkerchief – she hadn’t realized she needed one. He waited for her to blow her nose. ‘I cannot tell you that, Alice. There was more than one, so they themselves don’t know which one killed her. They are all attached to another group now – the group that rescued you. They are without an agent at the moment, as we had to lift theirs out. He had been compromised . . .’

‘After Gertrude died? Doesn’t that tell you something, for Christ’s sake? How could Gertrude betray him when she was already dead?’ Now she knew she had need of the handkerchief, as a sob caught her voice, bringing a deluge of tears. After a moment she blew her nose again.

‘This is all too much for you.’

‘No. Please tell me more.’

‘Yes, the agent was compromised after Gertrude had died. No one in the war department other than me and my senior knew she had been disposed of, so whoever gave out information did not realize they no longer had her as a cover.’

‘Does he know now?’

‘Westlin? Yes, I told him this morning that Gertrude had been shot, and when. His reaction was one of shock. I began to suspect that your accusation of him might have some truth in it then. After all, he knew enough about every operation that went wrong to have been the one to jeopardize it.’

‘Oh God!’

‘Yes. It was all too late – if only I’d listened to you . . .’

‘But you must have listened to me, otherwise why would you bait Westlin – why? Couldn’t you have pretended that Gertrude was dead and waited to see if Westlin did anything?’

‘You know yourself that wasn’t possible, don’t you?’

Alice did. It wasn’t what she wanted to admit, but with poor Gertrude still alive, how could Captain Bellows be sure that she wasn’t the one to compromise the other agent? Alice had to believe that, although he had his suspicions of Westlin, they were – just like hers – almost baseless. Whilst the evidence against Gertrude was damning . . .

Her life took on a new purpose. Now she knew that she had to live. She had to live to prove Gertrude’s and her father’s innocence beyond any doubt. How she would do that she didn’t know. Even her father’s writings could not be taken as proof. Bellows had told her that. They would be taken as her father’s attempts to exonerate himself, and that was all. Somehow she needed proof, or for Westlin to confess.

‘Alice, I want you to take some leave. During it I want you to try and recover. We are getting short of agents, and you will be needed at some point. I still have immense faith in you. To quote a well-known phrase, “Your country needs you”.’

‘Thank you, sir, I will do my best. In the meantime, can you please get a message to Steve Henderson? You are right, we are in love, and although it is inappropriate we never let it compromise our situation.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that he didn’t. It wasn’t in the plan for him to jump from that plane. He should have returned to base when the mission was aborted. All it has resulted in is his having to be discharged on medical grounds.’

‘So he is no longer useful to you. Excuse me for saying so, sir, but sometimes you are all bastards.’

‘I know. And, Alice, I understand Henderson. I understand him more than you can know. My only way of helping him not to be disciplined is to keep him where he is, and to continue to say he is unfit for travel. The risk in having him brought home is too great. No one can touch him in Switzerland. I kept him there and sent on the note for you, Alice.’

A blush warmed her cheek at his expression and at the tone of his voice. There was nothing she could say. This was so unexpected. Somehow she stammered, ‘Thank you, sir.’ What she really wanted to express was her astonishment. After a moment she recovered and anger entered her. If Bellows had feelings for her, how could he have ordered Gertrude’s death? But then she understood that he’d had to order her death. She’d received the same training. No one was indispensable. No one . . .

As she left the office Bellows touched her shoulder. It wasn’t an inappropriate gesture, given all she’d been through, but when she looked into his eyes she read a confirmation of what she’d guessed. She had to be honest with him. ‘I’m sorry, I cannot return your feelings.’

‘I know. But know that I will be watching your back for you at all times.’

She nodded. She felt relief as she went through the door and it closed behind her. A longing arose in her as she walked the corridors past averted eyes. She needed to be with Lil. Sensible, loving Lil. And with Mildred and Gillian. Mildred had been happy to come and live amongst people who took things in their stride and knew nothing of her past. She’d even accepted Alice sending the car for her to come and spend time at Alice’s home. She hadn’t been often, and had spent most of her time with Cook or pottering around the garden, but the fact that she’d been at all was a big stride forward for them both, because up till now they had always been with Gillian and Lil when they were together.

Though not untouched by the war, these three women had something she didn’t have: an innocence of the necessary but vile tactics of war. And they could give what she couldn’t: uncomplicated and unconditional love to all.

She’d go home and try to contact them. At least she could telephone the nursing home to see if Lil was on duty and ask when her shift ended. Then, if all went to plan, she could collect Lil and take her back to the East End for the evening. Just to be with them, and in their world, was all she desired at the moment . . . Well, not all, but it was the only attainable desire.

It would be another three hours until Lil could be free, and that would be too late for today. But Alice learned that it was Lil’s afternoon off tomorrow. She would contact Gillian. She had the number of the little corner shop. She’d tell her that she would send a car for Mildred, and would love Mildred to stay over if she would. She hoped with all her heart she would agree.

When she reached home there was a message to say that Mildred would like to come, but not until the morning. That didn’t help much, but at least Alice wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow afternoon before seeing anyone.

Feeling restless and disorientated, she donned her waxed coat and wellingtons and walked through her garden into Danson Park. The snow hadn’t amounted to much today. Rain had turned what little had been left from the fall of a week ago into slush, and this morning’s flurry had made little impact on it. The trees were bare and bleak-looking. They shook with the remains of the snow shower and melted ice, which dripped onto her hood. Some of the drops ran down her face.

The despair she felt made every step heavy-going, but she trudged on, trying to think of anything other than death and destruction and to persuade herself she had more courage than she felt. Agents were badly needed, Bellows had said. And she supposed there were only so many suitable candidates – not in terms of bravery, for the whole country had masses of that as well as many other qualities, but in terms of languages and knowledge of the countries that agents were needed in; these skills were vital, and there were only so many people who possessed them.

Somehow she must lift herself, shelve her grief and personal longings and make herself ready – do whatever it took to get back into the field and be of use to the war effort. Steve would expect that of her, and so would Gertrude.

As she realized this, the park came alive. It was no longer a drab, damp place, but above her the birds quarrelled as they sought to build the best nest for the coming new life. A cluster of snowdrops peeped at her from under a tree, and to her left a carpet of daffodils nodded their hello. On cue, the sun broke through and, as its rays penetrated the branches and dappled a lace-patterned shadow in her path, she noticed everywhere the buds beginning to clothe the trees and bushes. Spring nudged winter for prominence and would win. And she would win, too.

She would ring Bellows and ask him to put her back on the parts of the course she needed to redo to prove herself still capable as an agent, and to consider her back in the fold. Then tomorrow, just for one day, she would allow herself to be Alice, and would laugh and cry with Lil. She needed that.