As the sun began to sink low in the western sky, Frank stood leaning on his farm gate, puffing at his pipe and enjoying, for the umpteenth time in his long life, the magnificent Lincolnshire sunset. Although he wasn’t a widely travelled man, he didn’t think there could be a better sunset in the world. One to equal it, perhaps, but not to better it. But tonight he was worrying about Beryl and her bairn. He had persuaded her to write to Carolyn and he had posted the letter himself earlier that day. He hoped his granddaughter would be able to get leave to come home and help him sort out the problem. If only, between them, they could persuade her to keep the baby.

  With a sigh, he turned away, reluctant to leave the magnificent scene before him, but there were more pressing matters at the moment. The sunset could wait; it would still be there tomorrow and all the days after that.

  He entered by the back door to find Eve washing up the tea things. ‘You get off home now, love. Harold must be wondering if he’s still got a wife.’

  ‘If you’re sure you’ll be all right, then I will. She’s feeding him now regularly, so that much is all right, but she’s still saying she wants to have him adopted.’

  ‘I got her to write to tell Carolyn and I posted the letter today.’ He smiled conspiratorially at Eve. ‘I’m just hoping it will bring Carolyn running.’

  Eve pulled a face. ‘I sure she will, if she can get permission. They can be a bit sticky about leave.’

  ‘I know, but from what Carolyn said last time she was home, they’ve got quite an understanding officer in charge of them.’

  ‘We can but hope,’ Eve murmured as she hung the tea towel up to dry. ‘I’ll be off then, but don’t hesitate to fetch me if there’s a problem.’

  Inspector Derek Spencer smiled across the table at George. ‘All police officers are bound by the Official Secrets Act, Mr Fox, so fire away. I’m all ears.’ He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, settling down to listen to George’s story.

  ‘In the summer of 1914,’ George began, ‘I had just become fully qualified as a science teacher, but when war broke out I volunteered for the Signals Corps. I’d always been interested in communications and foresaw huge potential in that field. After the war, I obtained teaching posts as a science teacher. I came here from the Magdalen School when this grammar school first opened. In my spare time I built wireless transmitters and receivers. I might add here that I was always on the lookout for any pupils who had a similar interest to myself. I also joined the Radio Society of Great Britain. At the outbreak of this war, many of our members had to relinquish their transmitters, including Tom, much to his disappointment, though he was allowed to keep his receiver for reasons which you now know. Because of my background, the authorities allowed me to keep my transmitter.’ He smiled. ‘And also, because I am fluent in German – and French too, as a matter of fact – I have extra duties that Tom knows nothing about. Nor do the couriers who collect our paperwork each night.

  ‘Most of the signals we receive are in Morse and are also encrypted, so even I can’t understand them, but occasionally we’ll get a message in plain text – usually in German, of course. Tom won’t understand those messages either, but I do. About a month ago, I started getting messages which seemed to indicate that the enemy were trying to arrange for a spy to come ashore somewhere along the East Coast and were trying to locate a suitable spot. I immediately got in touch with Captain Delaney and we devised a plan. It seems that Tom had also received some encrypted messages about the same thing, though of course he wasn’t aware of it. These were deciphered at . . .’ He paused and then changed the direction of his conversation, ‘Well, we’d better not say quite where, but they confirmed the messages that we had both picked up.

  ‘Our plan was that I should reply to these messages offering to pinpoint a place very near here where the spy would be able to land in secrecy. I can’t tell you how we did this. I just followed Captain Delaney’s instructions. He, I believe, had help and advice from someone higher up the . . . What shall we call it? The secrecy chain. We didn’t, of course, want our spy blundering ashore at the Point where the army have training facilities – as, no doubt, you know, inspector.’

  Derek nodded but remained silent.

  ‘After a couple of weeks and a great many messages going back and forth, my contact evidently believed that I was genuine. We finally arranged that he should land just north of the Point and that I should meet him.’

  ‘Why were the police not informed then? We could have been ready and waiting for him.’

  George smiled and said gently, ‘Inspector, no disrespect, but it would only have taken one tiny, careless slip – something like a movement in the bushes by one of your men – to have alerted him. He would then not have come ashore and we would have lost him.’

  Derek had the grace to smile. ‘Point taken. I suppose ten or twenty policemen in their size twelves blundering about on the sandhills in the dark would not have been the best idea. Go on, Mr Fox.’

  ‘I met him and took him to my house, fed him and then hid him in the loft. I did not want to leave the house for two reasons. One, I wanted to be sure he remained where he was and two, I didn’t want him to suspect that I was reporting his arrival so, to that end, I stayed in the loft with him. But by prior arrangement, my wife left the house and called you anonymously from a phone box. And there you have it, but I want to reiterate that Tom had no involvement at all. All he does is what he’s been asked to do. Monitor the airwaves on the frequencies he’s been given for a couple of hours a day and hand over his notes to the courier who calls at his house each night.’

  ‘And the couriers knew nothing about this either?’

  ‘Not as far as I am aware. I don’t see how they could have done.’

  Derek was thoughtful for a moment before saying slowly. ‘Well, I believe your explanation, but I am sure you will understand that I have to verify what you have said with this Captain Delaney.’

  ‘Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less. May I borrow your writing pad and pen?’

  Puzzled, the inspector pushed the items across the table. Swiftly, George wrote down a telephone number from memory.

  ‘This is Captain Delaney’s number. I was given this to contact him in case of an emergency and I think this warrants that term, don’t you?’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fox. I will contact the captain as soon as possible. In the meantime, I am afraid you will have to stay in custody.’

  ‘Understood. May I ask you one question? What will happen to the young fellow who came ashore?’

  ‘He’ll be taken down to London for questioning.’

  George sighed. He hoped they wouldn’t be too brutal with him. He’d seemed a good sort of chap, who was only doing what he believed was his duty for his own country. George was escorted back to the cell, but he was sure that now it would only be for a few hours more.

  Forty-One

  ‘There’s a letter for you,’ Noreen said, holding out an envelope to Carolyn. ‘I think it’s from Beryl. I recognize her handwriting.’

  Carolyn tore open the envelope in her haste. ‘I wonder . . .’ she murmured.

  Noreen was just as curious as she hovered in front of Carolyn. ‘Well?’ she said impatiently as Carolyn scanned the page. ‘Has she had the baby? What did she get? Are they all right? And what has she called him or her?’

  Carolyn looked up and smiled. ‘A baby boy and they’re both fine.’ Then her face clouded, ‘But she hasn’t named him because she says she’s not keeping him. She’s going to put him up for adoption.’

  Noreen snorted. ‘That’s terrible. She made a mistake – we all know that – but she’s no need to compound it by giving him away. Your family are standing by her, aren’t they? Even if her own aren’t.’

  ‘Yes, yes, they are.’

  ‘Then I think you’d better see if you can get some leave and go home and talk some sense into her. Talk to Ma’am. She’s very understanding. Giving him away, indeed! The very idea.’ Noreen was positively bristling with indignation.

  ‘Yes,’ Carolyn said slowly. ‘I think you’re absolutely right. I’d better get home as soon as I can.’

  On the journey home, Carolyn had time to think. Life was so hectic. There was hardly a minute to talk during working hours; everyone concentrated so hard on their job and, by the end of a shift, their heads were still buzzing from the crackling in their headphones and the intense effort of trying to separate the Morse from the interference. But now she couldn’t wait to see Beryl again and meet the new baby, though she was worried about her friend’s plan to have the little boy adopted. Carolyn was determined to make her change her mind.

  ‘See what trouble you’ve caused?’

  Carolyn hadn’t been in the house many minutes before Lilian began to have ‘words’ with her. Two weeks after receiving Beryl’s letter, Carolyn had managed to get home.

  ‘Eh?’ Carolyn blinked. She was mystified. ‘I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about, Mam. How can I have caused trouble? I’m not even here most of the time.’

  ‘Getting round your grandad to give that little madam a home.’

  ‘I didn’t ask him, Mam. He offered.’

  ‘Same difference. You knew he was a soft touch and would take pity on the girl if you told him her sob story. What about her own family?’

  ‘They threw her out, as did the ATS when they found out. She had nowhere to go.’

  Lilian sniffed. ‘Well, I don’t blame any of them. It’s what I would have done if it had been you.’

  Carolyn shot her mother a sideways glance but said nothing. It was enough, though, to make Lilian’s cheeks turn red. She changed the subject. ‘Are you writing to Peter? I bet he’s glad of letters.’

  ‘He is and, yes, we do write now and again. Just between two friends, Mam, so don’t start getting any ideas. He’s finding army life all very boring at the moment. He wishes he could get into the action somewhere.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, I do hope not. Phyllis will have a ducky fit if he gets sent abroad and into the fighting.’

  Carolyn reached for her coat. ‘I’m just off to see Grandad and Beryl and the new baby. Has she chosen a name for him yet?’

  ‘I really have no idea.’

  ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’

  ‘Do you mean you haven’t been to the farm since he was born?’

  ‘I go to see your grandad now and again.’

  ‘Now and again? But you used to go almost every day to take him his dinner.’

  There was a sharp edge to her tone as Lilian said, ‘I’m rather surplus to requirements now. The girl did all his meals until she went into labour and ever since then, your Aunty Eve has been there a lot of the time.’

  Carolyn said no more. She got the feeling there was more to this than her mother was saying. Never mind, she told herself as she buttoned her coat, she would soon find out.

  She cycled to the farm, then entered by the back door.

  ‘Hello, Aunty Eve. How lovely to see you . . .’ She gave Eve a swift hug. ‘I must see Beryl and the baby and then we’ll have a chat.’

  Eve laughed. ‘Up you go. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Carolyn opened the bedroom door to see Beryl sitting up in bed, breastfeeding the baby. As she glanced up, her eyes filled with tears to see Carolyn standing there. ‘I knew you’d come as soon as you could.’

  ‘You couldn’t keep me away,’ Carolyn said. She tiptoed across the room and sat down on the bed, leaning forward to look at the child. ‘Oh Beryl, he’s gorgeous. And so big. However much does he weigh?’

  ‘He was eight pounds when he was born, the midwife said.’

  ‘That’s a good weight for a first baby.’

  ‘How do you know so much about it all?’

  Carolyn laughed. ‘You don’t grow up on a farm without learning such things.’

  She gazed down at the two of them before saying. ‘I’ll leave you to finish feeding him and then I’ll come back. Aunty Eve is just making a cuppa. I’ll bring you one up.’

  Back downstairs, Eve said, ‘You’re looking a bit peaky. Are they working you too hard?’ She laughed as she added, ‘At whatever it is you’re doing.’

  ‘We do work very hard, Aunty, but I can’t tell you anything about it or even where I am. Sorry.’

  ‘I quite understand, love.’ Eve sighed.

  ‘It’s very good of you to look in on Beryl and the baby, Aunty.’

  ‘I’m here to look after Beryl and the bairn when your grandad has to be out.’

  Suddenly, Carolyn was worried. ‘Is something wrong with one of them?’

  ‘Heavens, no. They’re both thriving and eating us out of house and home.’ Her face clouded for a moment. ‘Though she is saying she wants to have him adopted and neither your grandad nor I can change her mind. But, we’re working on that. No, the real trouble is Phyllis Carter. I haven’t said much to your grandad, though I think he’s guessed what’s going on.’

  ‘So, what is going on?’

  ‘Let’s just say, Phyllis is less than kind towards Beryl and her baby. Poor lass went into labour during the afternoon. Your grandad was out and there was only Phyllis here. From what Beryl says – and she hasn’t said very much – Phyllis did stay here in the house, but she left her alone in the bedroom. Even when the contractions got worse and Beryl cried out for her, she didn’t go to her. She wouldn’t even let Beryl call the midwife. It wasn’t until Dad came home and found out what was happening that anything was done to help her. From what I can make out, if he hadn’t come back home when he did, poor Beryl might have given birth completely on her own. Of course, Phyllis made out she’d been looking after her, but I don’t think she had. All Beryl will say is that she didn’t think Phyllis could hear her, but I heard her quite clearly the minute I came through the back door and I found Phyllis sitting reading the newspaper in the kitchen and taking no notice of Beryl’s cries. Maybe you can get a bit more out of the lass than I can. She clams up when I ask her. Doesn’t want to tell tales, I expect. Anyway, I’ve been coming every day since she gave birth to be with her while Dad’s out in the daytime.’

  ‘Oh Aunty Eve, how good of you.’ Carolyn hesitated and then added, ‘Mam says she’s not been across.’

  Eve’s mouth tightened and she glanced way. ‘No, she hasn’t.’

  ‘Look, if you want to get off home now, I can stay with Beryl until Grandad gets in. I want to see him anyway. And I’ll come again tomorrow, if you like.’

  ‘That’d be a big help, love, if you could. Dad’s around most of the time on a Sunday, but he still has to see to the animals. Thanks, I’ll take you up on both today and tomorrow. I’ve let things slip a bit at home. Not that Harold or Adam have grumbled. They’re being very good about it. Harold never says much,’ she smiled fondly, ‘as you well know, but he’s a kind man at heart. Just not very talkative.’ She laughed. ‘But he always says I do enough for the two of us. Talking, that is. And, of course, the girls’ – she was referring to the land army girls lodging with them – ‘are there. They’ve been good too. They’ve kept things ticking over, you might say, but they can’t do everything I do. I’ll just say cheerio to Beryl and then I’ll get off.’

  The two women went upstairs.

  ‘I’m going now, love, but Carolyn’s going to stay with you now until Mr Frank gets home and she’ll come again tomorrow, so I’ll see you on Monday.’

  ‘How good you all are to me,’ Beryl said huskily. ‘I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘We’ll have no more of that talk,’ Carolyn said. ‘Now, let me have a hold of my godson while you drink your tea.’

  Beryl’s eyes widened. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Well, I do hope you’re going to ask me to be his godmother. I’d be most hurt if you don’t.’

  Beryl was still staring at Carolyn when Eve wiggled her fingers in farewell and slipped out of the room.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about anything like that,’ Beryl said. ‘Won’t his adoptive parents want to do that sort of thing?’

  ‘Oh Beryl, you’re not still thinking of doing that, are you? Not after you’ve seen him – held him – fed him.’ Carolyn reached out to take the infant into her arms as Beryl handed him over. She looked into his big blue eyes staring up at her. He waved his chubby arms and wriggled in her grasp. ‘My word, he’s strong for a little ’un. You’re going to be a real bruiser, aren’t you . . .? Oh, I don’t know his name.’ She glanced at Beryl. ‘What are you calling him?’

  Beryl shrugged.

  ‘I think you’ll have to call him something, Beryl. He’s nearly three weeks old now and he’ll need to be registered very soon. In fact, I can do that for you on Monday, if you like. I haven’t got to go back until Tuesday morning. Would you like me to?’

  ‘I really don’t care one way or the other.’

  ‘Let’s think of some names, then. What about calling him after your father?’

  Beryl snorted. ‘I’m not calling him after him or any of my family, thank you very much. I’d sooner call him after your grandad, if he wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Of course he wouldn’t. He’d be honoured.’

  ‘Honoured? To have his name used by a little bastard?’

  ‘Oh Beryl. Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘That’s what Mrs Carter calls him.’

  ‘Does she now?’ Carolyn said gently, putting the baby against her shoulder and patting his back. ‘Tell me about Phyllis Carter. You know how good I am at keeping secrets. Nothing you tell me will go beyond these four walls.’

  Haltingly at first and then in a flood of words, as if it were a relief to talk about it, Beryl told her all that had happened since she had come to live at the farm.

  ‘But Peter’s nice,’ she ended. ‘He – I – he and I have been writing to each other since he went back. He usually writes to me every Sunday, although I haven’t had a letter for a couple of weeks now.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Carolyn said and Beryl could see that her delight was genuine. ‘But I wouldn’t let his mother know, if I were you.’

 

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