On Tuesday I walked to German HQ and told my news to Captain Möller, and apologized that I’d be missing next week’s meetings.
“You haff an excellent excuse!” he rolled his ‘v’ rather uncharacteristically. I accepted his congratulations, and we shook hands firmly. “I must supply a gift.”
I shook my head, but he waved his hands frantically, he would have none of it. “What do you need?”
I hadn’t even given presents a thought. “I don’t know.”
“Does your lady have a dress?”
“Eh, no we weren’t going to…”
“Nonsense! Phone me with height and waist measurements. I will have it delivered it to your office.” He suddenly looked a little nervous. “It will be hired, of course,”
I couldn’t help myself, I shook his hand like a long lost friend, and left the building on cloud nine. I phoned in Alice’s size almost immediately; she wouldn’t let me linger. “Five foot seven,” I said, looking across the room at her beaming face. “Waist twenty-six.”
“And the best maid?”
Oh that hit me; things had been so chaotic I hadn’t even considered it. I held my hand over the mouthpiece. “He’s asking about a bridesmaid. Frances?”
Alice nodded. “Five four, twenty-two inches.” She said with some authority.
Around four that afternoon, a man arrived at my office with two cream dresses wrapped in sheets of crepe paper.
“Oh, that settles it, we’re taking a drive tonight,” she made for the door. “Come on, we’re leaving early.”
“Where are we going?” I asked. I mean, us men must be made of the densest stuff.
“We’re going to meet my mother.”
The road to Selkirk is as twisty and turny as any in Scotland, but it did give me a chance to study the countryside. With the windows down, we drove like the lovers we were, not a care in the world, which wasn’t bad considering we were involved in cloak and dagger operations against a huge menacing regime.
Once out of Edinburgh, the A7 took us past villages I’d only just heard the names of. The coal mining centers of Newtongrange and Gorebridge soon gave way to the moorland hamlets of Middleton and Stow. By then, we were following the Gala Water to Galashiels. With the sun low to out right, the views were quite spectacular, and we vowed to bring Mum down here for picnics and days by the river. I’d never fished myself, but I knew dad had a split-cane rod and basket in the walk-in closet. Only the occasional passing German truck interrupted our reverie.
Just after six o’clock we had chips covered in vinegar and broon sauce in Galashiels, eating them from newspaper as we leaned against a wall, the last rays of direct sunshine dropping over the houses opposite.
I was surprised when Alice doubled back, going away from the signs to Selkirk. “Where are we going?”
“To the farm.”
“I thought you stayed in Selkirk?”
She shook her head as she drove through the outskirts of Galashiels and out onto the moors. “The farm’s near Selkirk.”
Ah, then we turned into the setting sun, and had to slow down. The rays directly into our eyes picked up every dirty mark and smear on the windscreen, and made any kind of forward sight difficult.
By the time we drove down from the moor, I saw a large river ahead. “What’s that?”
“That, dear heart, is the Tweed, we fished there a lot when we were kids; its proper name is Caddonfoot, but folks down here call it Cadd’n-fit.”
Her mention of ‘kids’ in the plural brought up a new question, and I was rather embarrassed I hadn’t asked it before. I knew nothing of Alice’s siblings, if any, and didn’t really know what to anticipate at our destination; ‘the farm’. It took me a couple of minutes to work out the right words. “So who do I expect to see when we get there?” I thought my choice of words quite clever.
She broke into a huge grin, obviously excited to see her family again. “Well, mum’s name is Agnes, she’s a bit on the portly side but, she works the farm as hard as dad ever did. Deirdre is my wee sister, she’s probably eighteen by now, then there’s Harold, the stablehand, he’s probably still there, he’s been a member of the farm so long, I can’t remember life without him.”
We turned sharply down towards the river, then burst out onto a long, narrow bridge over the Tweed. I got a fantastic view downstream until the river disappeared round a corner. The scenery was simply breathtaking. Round the corner we drove along a narrow road hardly wide enough for the car.
“The big house is up there.” Alice pointed to the left, “Ashiestiel House; used to be the home of Sir Walter Scott. My family owns Ashiestiel Farm, next door, well, just up the river a bit.”
The farmhouse was almost as I’d imagined. Two stories, large brick-built, a large courtyard and a barn opposite. Next to the farm sat a tractor and a motorbike. The whole scene was nestled in trees almost as tall as the chimneys of the house.
As we braked near the front, a large man opened the door, a shotgun under his arm.
“Harold!” Alice cried, almost jumping out when the car was still moving. She flung herself into his arms, and his face nestled onto her shoulder, surprise mingled with gratitude. “I sought you ver neffer cominck back.” He said, his accent thick yet comfortable, the gun now hanging at her back.
She stepped back and with a wide arm, presented me. “This is James Baird.”
I immediately got the ‘bad eye’ of the protective father figure, and he had a shotgun. Yes, I was having an illicit relationship with his charge, yes we’d frolicked naked. I shook his hand nervously, certain that my confession was written all over my face. “Nice to meet you,” although he smiled, he still managed to look unconvinced.
Alice grabbed my hand, and I followed reluctantly, unable to get myself into the same euphoric mood. “Come on,” I got pulled into the large hallway, then towards the kitchen. A woman stood, hands on hips in the doorway. “Mamma!”
I gave them a moment to first tangle, then hug tightly. Despite my presence, ‘Mamma’ closed her eyes and cuddled into her daughter’s neck for a moment.
“You bring a boy.” He pushed Alice gently away, and brushed her apron with her hands.
For the first time in the re-union, Alice looked slightly uneasy. “Yes, Mamma, this is James Baird.”
I stepped forward, expecting a handshake, but got a hug, the same as her daughter. I smelled a combination of baking and cooked meat from her, or perhaps that came from the kitchen.
“Hello, Mrs. Howes.” I said as she broke the embrace.
“Call me Mamma,” she corrected. “Even Harold does,”
“Okay,” I gave a genuine smile, feeling instantly inducted into the fold.
“He is just as you described him.” Mamma said, and I looked at Alice surprised she’d mentioned me and not said.
“I came here briefly after Carstairs,” Alice admitted.
“Yes,” Mamma said with a smug smile. “This is the second visit in just a few months, I’m expecting news.”
Her voice carried a slight foreign accent mixed with her strong country tone, but it was not unexpected; twenty odd years with a German would do that to a person.
At that instant, Agnes, for it could only be she, burst through the front door. Her boots were dirty, her hands grubby, but neither hid the good-looking teenager, nor the curves underneath the shabby dungarees. I watched the two women hug fiercely, and could not mistake the beauty they both carried. Considering the rather homely mother, I could only imagine the lines of the handsome German father.
As quick as they’d got together, they sprang apart. Still holding her sister’s hand, Alice beamed with delight. “Sis, this is James.”
Agnes closed on me like a tiger approaching a tethered goat. “Hello, James.” Her voice was like thick honey, her eyes shone with the fire I had sometimes witnessed in her sister. She accepted my offered hand, and held it gently, caressing my fingers.
Suddenly they were slapped away. “Aggie!” Alice snapped, her voice fierce, but her face smiling. “Stop it, you little minx!”
In an instant, her eyes lost their magic, and I was no longer enthralled. “Hello,” I said, my tongue still tied from before.
“Wow,” Agnes grinned. “He’s easy.” She scoffed.
Alice stood, her hands on hips mirroring her mother’s pose. “Agnes is the area’s biggest flirt. She’s got half the boys wrapped round her finger.”
“I’m not surprised.” I said, regaining my wits. I turned to Mamma. “I see where they got their looks.”
My flattery hit its mark, and Mamma grinned, her face showing embarrassment. “Come on by, I’ll put the kettle on.”
It seems every kitchen has its table, and Ashiestiel Farm was no exception. We sat around the dark worn wood, and told of our intention to marry.
“You’re not…?” Agnes asked the obvious question.
“No.” Alice stated, brooking no further discussion of the point.
Mamma shook her head. “So why the hurry?”
“It’s just time, that’s all.”
“No.” Mamma mimicked her daughter’s rebuke. “You must have a reason.”
Alice sighed, looked at me. We’d examined a few excuses, but none had held any water. I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ve got to go to London,” Alice began. There’s a job we’ve got to do down there.”
“War work?” Mamma asked.
“Yes, Mamma, it’s ‘war work’.”
“Then that’s all you have to say.” It’s amazing what you will accept under the auspices of certain phrases. This all-encompassing term seemed to mollify everyone’s questions. “You two do love each other, right?”
We both chorused our ‘yes’, and everyone laughed, and chinked tea mugs over the table. It wasn’t until Harold had left to do his chores, and Alice was working with Mamma over the sink that Agnes motioned me outside. The vast back garden was totally taken up by vegetables, some of which I didn’t recognize.
“So you’re part of MI6?” Agnes kept her blunt side going. I hesitated for a long time before she spoke again. “I know of my sister’s work. We were both in the Auxiliaries when she got recruited for Intelligence.”
My jaw dropped I’m sure. “Alice was in the Auxiliaries?”
She made a mocking hand-to-her-lips gesture. “She didn’t tell you? How patriotic.”
“No, she didn’t.” I refused a cigarette, and waited until she’d lit hers before continuing. “Are you still?”
Agnes nodded, and again I caught a glimmer of the minx as she pulled the smoke into her lungs. She was indeed a stunner. “There’s not much to do around here, but the area is completely void of Germans. So you’re not MI6? What then?” She caught my continued reticence. “Come on, out with it; no secrets here.”
“Different agency,” I said, determined not to divulge any more. “But I’m involved in the same kind of work. We all have the same bosses if you go high enough.”
“I’ll bet we do.”
“Come on,” I said changing the subject. “Give me a tour.”
And for the next half hour we walked the garden, then down to the banks of the Tweed, slow-flowing and quiet. Ashiestiel House had the fishing rights, but the farm had limited access. I swore one day I’d live in enough peace to try it all out.
When we got back to the house, the kitchen was filled with the smell of good soup, and there was a bottle of Schnapps on the table.