56

‘What’s the plan? Ring his doorbell and say we’ve come to sign up for goose-stepping and Heil Hitler?’ Margaret had to shout over the buffeting wind as we sped along the road on top of the Forest. There was a thick mist, and the air smelt earthy. I kept my eyes on the disappearing road in front of us. Margaret was driving faster than we could see.

‘That’s about it,’ I shouted.

I’d told Margaret the minimum. We needed to get closer to Vaughn and Miriam. Get inside his organisation. I’d kept the whole ‘secret radio station’ story to myself. Even thinking about it in the cold light of day felt crazy, as if it were the product of a dream.

‘He’ll smell a rat,’ she said, as she swerved to avoid a squirrel that darted out from the long grass by the side of the road. The squirrel froze in the middle of the road, courting death, then came to his senses and ran back the way he’d come.

‘You’d better leave it to me,’ Margaret said, with a grin.

*

The doorbell echoed through the house. I looked up at the black stone and thin, leaded windows. Footsteps echoed from deep within the house, getting closer. Washington, the butler, answered the door with a frown.

‘We’re here to see Vaughn,’ Margaret said, and pushed her way past. Washington glared at me, his meaning clear. This wasn’t what we’d agreed.

‘Are they up?’ Margaret asked, as Washington and I caught up with her in the grand entrance hall.

*

Vaughn was at breakfast. He shoved his newspaper aside and rose to greet us as Margaret hurried into the dining room.

‘Mags! Fantastic to see you!’

He gestured to the remnants of the breakfast buffet.

‘Join me. Miriam will be down soon I’m sure. What are you drinking? Tea?’

‘Coffee,’ Margaret said to Washington.

I sat at the table while Margaret took a plate and piled it with scrambled egg. How much did Vaughn spend on the black market in a week? Probably had a non-stop parade to the back door, like a trail of ants.

‘This is jolly,’ Vaughn said.

Margaret put a plate in front of me and flashed Vaughn a smile. She took a seat between the two of us and bit a triangle of toast with a crunch.

‘We’re here to join up,’ she said to Vaughn, ‘and we’re not going to take no for an answer.’

Vaughn let the offer hang while he thought it through.

‘I’ll connect you with Constance,’ he said. ‘Cook, I think you sat next to her at dinner. She handles our membership list. It’s half a crown subs. She’ll be happy to put you to work. How do you feel about pasting up leaflets?’

‘Cook can offer a more relevant set of qualifications,’ Margaret said. ‘As can I. I’m not just a pretty face, Vaughn.’

‘Qualifications?’ Vaughn asked.

‘Hand-to-hand combat,’ she said. ‘Explosives. Principles of guerilla warfare and sabotage. Destruction of enemy posts. Countering enemy information systems.’

She took another bite of toast.

‘We can paste up leaflets if you want,’ I said. ‘But I think you’ve got grander ambitions.’

‘I had you two pegged as Churchill fans,’ he said.

‘I’ve got nothing against Churchill,’ I said. ‘It’s the rest of his team I don’t like. Far too many international financiers for my liking.’

Vaughn nodded. He gathered the teacups from in front of me and Margaret, carefully filled them, then passed them back.

‘What you’re saying is treason,’ he said. ‘As soon as you leave here it’s my duty to phone the police and have you arrested. Defence Regulation Eighteen-B. Neither of you will ever be seen or heard of again.’

‘Treason is betraying your country,’ Margaret said. ‘I love my country and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save it from a war that will destroy another generation.’

‘He’s all talk,’ I said. ‘Easy to stand on a stage in a village hall and talk about peace. Let the others do the dirty work.’

Vaughn sipped his tea. Margaret gave me a worried glance. Perhaps I’d pushed too hard.

‘Talk with Constance,’ he said. ‘Start at ground level. See how you like it. A lot of people talk about getting involved. But doing’s a lot harder than talking.’