Chapter 15

15

POOLE – MARCH 1941

Peggy could not help but enjoy the bounce in her step as she smiled her way in to work on the first Monday morning of spring. This past weekend had been a delightfully fresh start and she was breathless with excitement over what might lie ahead for her. The war clouds were still gloomy, and the night air was still freezing cold, especially out in the Anderson shelter. There were restrictions on everything from eggs to soap and even newspapers, and there had been another air raid last night, but the war could not steal from her the joy that she'd discovered in becoming Darrell's girl.

After she hurriedly left Charlie to finish locking up the launch on Saturday morning, she trotted back home and had a cup of tea with her mother and Molly at the kitchen table, then spent some time choosing what she ought to wear for her day out with Darrell. The choice was limited to three different outfits, but it still took her some time. She changed into her bottle-green day dress with the bow that tied at the neck, and pulled on warm, black, woollen stockings, sitting on the bed to buckle her more sensible brown shoes, in case of a long walk. She almost ran down the stairs to open the front door when she heard the doorbell ring just after ten o'clock, her blonde curls bouncing all the way. Darrell had brought her a small bunch of primroses and daffodils, a bright gift of spring that shone like the summer sun that would be back in a few months' time.

‘Oh, how lovely! Thank you, Darrell. Spring daffodils – I do believe these are the first ones I've seen. Such a sunny, happy flower, don't you think? Come on through to the kitchen and I'll put them in water,' Peggy said as he bent to give her a kiss and hand over his gift.

‘Are your parents about?' Darrell asked, peering into the front room as he passed the door.

‘Mother is out shopping, or at least looking to see if there is anything to buy, up the High Street, and Father is down the back on the shore, fiddling with the boat.'

‘I should like him to know I'm here with you, Peggy. I'll nip out and have a word for a minute,' he said, pushing open the back door while Peggy filled a jug and arranged the pretty, yellow flowers, setting them in the middle of the kitchen table.

Once outside in the back garden, Darrell followed the little winding path past the rabbit hutch and through the gate in the low back fence leading onto the narrow, shaley beach, which was covered in upturned dinghies. A wooden frame stood covered in nets that were drying and a gull sat atop the frame as if to guard it, knowing the nets to be the bringer of all kinds of good food scraps to this little beach. The wind was chilly, but the sky was filled with white clouds and the sizeable patches of pale blue between them, not like the leaden grey blanket that threatened rain or snow and had seemed to be their permanent shelter for the past two months.

Darrell walked across the stony sand, crunching cockle shells beneath his polished, black boots, towards Mr Symonds, who was kneeling on the ground with a paintbrush in his hand, adding another layer of sky-blue paint to a small, wooden dinghy.

‘Good morning, Mr Symonds, sir,' Darrell called brightly. Peggy's father looked up in surprise at being greeted so formally.

‘Darrell, boy! Nice to see you. Not seen you down the pub so much this week, have we? 'Spect you been busy up there in your beautiful machine,' he said with a nod to the skies and just a hint of envy, or was it only admiration?

‘We've been very busy this last week, but I do have the weekend off,' Darrell said, then hesitated, wondering if this was the segue he was looking for or if he was jumping the gun. Mr Symonds simply nodded and returned to his painting.

Darrell cleared his throat and took a step closer.

‘Actually, it's about the weekend I wanted to talk. Well, not just the weekend, but some of what I'd like to do this weekend…' He faltered and saw the frown on Peggy's father's face. The old man must be wondering what this young idiot was twittering on about.

Darrell summoned the courage he knew he had aplenty when he needed it.

‘I would like very much to take Peggy out with me. More often. To walk out with her, as it were. If you and Mrs Symonds were agreeable, that is,' he finally said.

Mr Symonds put down the brush, resting it carefully on the top of the paint tin, wiped his hands on his overalls, and stood up.

‘I should think that would be all right, son. We saw you last night, of course,' he said with a wink and a laugh as Darrell turned a pale shade of grey. ‘Our bedroom is at the front,' Mr Symonds explained. ‘And the wife don't sleep until the girls are indoors. She don't miss much, and had a peep out the window, when you two lovebirds was saying your farewells last night.' He chuckled.

Darrell winced and covered his face, but then laughed despite himself.

‘I'll remember that, then. Thanks for the tip,' he said. ‘No kissing on the doorstep from now on, sir.'

Back in the kitchen, Peggy had been watching him from the back window.

‘What was all that about, then?' she asked Darrell as he stepped back inside.

‘Just making sure the old man is all right with me taking you out, that's all. Seems he was expecting the question.' He laughed and explained to a very embarrassed young woman that their first kiss had been witnessed by her parents.

‘Oh my word, I'll never be able to look them in the eye again,' said Peggy.

‘I shouldn't worry. He seems comfortable enough with the idea.'

‘So, what shall we do today, Darrell? Because I know one thing for sure: I'm not waiting here until Mother gets back in, now I know what they saw us doing last night!' Peggy said.

‘What about that lovely castle over on the other side of the harbour – I've seen it's in ruins of course, from the air. But one of the lads said it was a nice place for a picnic,' said Darrell.

‘Ooh, yes, I've not been to Corfe Castle in ages. Bit chilly for a picnic though. We could have a meal in the Greyhound and then go for a walk around the castle. It would be lovely and warm in the pub by the fire. There's a bus that goes around Wareham way we can catch,' Peggy said, reaching for her warm, black coat and the little hat she liked to wear on a slant.

Darrell took her arm and let Peggy lead the way to the bus station, where the pair boarded the green bus headed for Swanage via Wareham and Corfe Castle. They sat up the top, in the front seats for the best view, and ate a packet of humbugs that Darrell had pulled from his pocket when they sat down.

As the bus approached Wareham, Peggy noticed Darrell's interest in the town.

‘We're coming up to the quayside soon, and if you look to your left, you'll see where the river meanders away down towards the harbour. There's a pretty little church you can see the tower of just through there,' said Peggy, pointing out the bus window. ‘It has a square tower, like our St James's in Poole does, but this one is much older.'

Darrell nodded but his attention was on the boats moored up at the quay and further down the river. Within moments, they'd passed over the bridge and the river was out of sight again.

‘And this is the River Frome, the one that has its mouth in the harbour, not far from our base in Hamworthy?' he asked Peggy thoughtfully, and she wondered why he seemed so interested.

‘That's right. I could bring you up here for a jolly one day, perhaps, in Dad's dinghy, if you'd like that?' Peggy asked hopefully.

‘How long would it take to row all this way? That would take hours, wouldn't it? Something like your BOAC launch would be better for the job, I'd think,' he asked.

‘Row? Not likely!' Peggy laughed. ‘I'd row you to Brownsea and back for fun, no trouble, but for a trip up to Wareham, I'd put Dad's Seagull on the back.'

Now he looked more confused than ever, and she laughed at the stupefied look on his face.

‘Not a real seagull, silly! It's an outboard motor. They're made right here in Poole, you know. "The best outboard for the world" they say about them, and I have to say they are pretty reliable. A Seagull on a dinghy and we'd be up here to Wareham quay in no time,' Peggy said with confidence. ‘Now that's something to look forward to for when the weather is a bit warmer, hey? A picnic on the river, just like Ratty and Mole in The Wind in the Willows – messing about in a boat together.' She beamed.

The rest of the journey from Wareham to Corfe was then taken up with an explanation of Peggy's favourite childhood book, which she could not believe Darrell had never even heard of, let alone read.

‘Don't your Australian mothers read to you kids over there, then?' she teased him. ‘I think we should slip a few good books into the cargo on one of the flying boats headed to Sydney to improve the education of those poor Australian children,' and she threw her head back to laugh heartily as he tickled her in a mock attack.

In the Greyhound pub, they ate their hot dinner of lamb stew and dumplings, with bread and ‘butter' pudding to follow, and afterwards, thankful that the weather had stayed fine, walked up the grassy hill to the castle ruins where Peggy was pleased to show Darrell a glimpse of Poole Harbour from a completely different aspect.

Later that night, they walked hand in hand to the dance hall, and meandered home as slowly as possible afterwards, careful to say goodnight properly, well out of sight of Mr and Mrs Symonds' bedroom window. And on Sunday, he came to meet her after church and walked her home along the quay, where her mother asked him inside for dinner with the family.

In just two days, Darrell had become a firm favourite with the whole family and now, walking back into work on Monday morning, Peggy knew, without doubt, that her life had changed forever. And she was about to find out that her life would change in ways she could never have expected.

As Peggy dropped in to the harbour master's office to pick up the launch key, Patricia came out to meet her.

‘Peggy, would you mind just stepping into the office, please? There's someone here to meet you. From London,' Patricia said with meaning. Peggy had never been asked to meet anyone from BOAC outside of those few people who were running the show here in Poole, and she wondered quite what this could be about. She straightened her cap and walked into the back office, fully expecting to meet someone else wearing some form of the BOAC uniform. But the gentleman who stood to greet her was in no uniform at all.

‘Miss Symonds, thank you for coming,' he said brusquely as Pat left the room, closing the door behind her. ‘Please, do sit down.'

Peggy sat in the chair opposite him, eyes wide in wonder.

‘I'm sorry if this comes as something of a surprise, but the government has need of your services. I am about to share with you information that is top secret. It is not to be shared with a single soul outside this room – ever. I do not have to share this information with you, and if you choose, you may leave now and remain in blissful ignorance. However, the war office feels that you may be able to help us in a matter of extreme importance to the safety of this country.' At this, he sat back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and watched her. Intently.

Peggy blinked, her mouth open, a feeling of utter stupefaction flooding her mind.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last, ‘but who are you?'

‘Oh, my apologies, Miss Symonds. I cannot tell you my full name, owing to the department for which I speak, but you may know me as Fletcher.'

She nodded dumbly. ‘Thank you, Mr Fletcher. And what is this information you have for me?'

He continued. ‘If we go ahead and I release this information to you, you will be bound for the rest of your life by the Official Secrets Act, and to that end, you would sign this document,' he said sliding a single piece of paper on the desk a little closer to her.

Peggy was stunned into absolute silence, and realised at length that her jaw was hanging open in a most undignified manner. She snapped it shut and stole a quick glance at the door, wondering what Pat was doing right now. Did Pat even know what this was about? Peggy thought. She looked again at the contract and back at Mr Fletcher.

‘If I don't help, will people be in danger?' Peggy asked, eventually.

‘Very likely, yes. And we believe that you can help us alleviate that danger and remove a problem that is a threat to the security of the nation,' he said.

‘Is there any particular danger to me, or my family?' she asked, concern making her voice crack a little.

He thought hard for a few moments.

‘I suppose it is possible, but I don't believe it very likely, no,' he said at length.

‘Well, then, I cannot see any reason why I should object. If I can do any more than I already am doing to help us win this war and protect our nation, I can do it. I must do it, I think,' she said, quietly.

Mr Fletcher smiled slightly. ‘Thank you, Miss Symonds – Peggy, may I call you Peggy?'

She nodded her assent.

Fletcher bent over the desk, took out his pen and briefly went through the legal requirements of signing the document that signified Peggy was now bound by the Official Secrets Act. Forever. And then he relaxed back into his chair a little and explained what he wanted of her.

‘Let me explain the issue in clear terms, Peggy,' he had begun. ‘A few days ago, we heard from one of our regular agents who operates here in the harbour – don't be surprised, Peggy, you will probably never find out who that is – that there is a member of BOAC staff who is suspected of not being exactly who he says he is. The information came to the operative from a woman working on the quayside here. She tells us there is a gentleman working on the launches who claims to be someone that he is not. We know him as Charlie Edwards.' Fletcher paused to take a sip from his coffee cup and allow Peggy to take on the information, which seemed so ludicrous, she almost laughed.

‘Charlie seems perfectly genuine to me, sir,' Peggy said, feeling suddenly protective towards her new colleague. ‘Surely this is a mistake?'

‘It could well be, but there are a few things we would like to know. When he arrived here, Major Carter checked his papers in the usual way and nothing seemed amiss. But after we had received the alert that he may not be whom he claims to be, we put in some enquiries in the docks at London. It does appear that Mr Edwards' true identity is in question, and as we know that you are forming a friendship with him…' Peggy began to object at this presumption, but Fletcher simply held up his palm to her and continued, ‘we need you to find out all you can about him. Get to know him – in every way. Become as close to him as you feel able, and get to the bottom of this for us.'

‘But, you can't mean that I should be seen to be courting Charlie, sir?' she pleaded.

‘Is that too much to ask, do you feel?' he asked.

‘I am already courting an airman from the RAAF. What on earth will he think of me?' She felt tears beginning to prickle her throat.

‘Miss Symonds, ask yourself this: if you are able to help your country uncover a spy, and possibly save every one of your fellow Englishmen from the threat of Hitler, is it too much to ask that your love affair with a visiting airman might be put on hold? Hmm?' His tone was demeaning as well as demanding, and Peggy knew that she was fighting a losing battle. He did not care if she lost Darrell because she was saving her country. She would simply have to trust that all would be well. Trust and hope.

As Peggy walked across the quay towards the launch that morning, she prayed that this nightmare would be over soon.

‘Morning, Peggy,' said Charlie cheerily when he met her at the launch. ‘You're looking very well today. Have you had a nice time with that young airman of yours?' he asked, and she started a little at this question – too personal for Charlie to ask his new superior. Suddenly, everything in Peggy's world had changed. Was Charlie who he seemed to be? Was anyone she knew in Poole to be trusted? She had to question everything. Report everything. Trust no one.

‘Yes, thank you, Charlie. And what have you been up to?' she asked, just a little more curtly than usual.

‘Nothing much. Just pottering about,' he replied absently.

‘We've a busy day ahead today. We're taking the crew and passengers from the Clare into Salterns Marina and then running back to the quay where we will be picking up some VIPs from Major Carter at the pottery. They'll have come in direct from the night train, apparently, and we are needed to drive them up to the Harbour Heights Hotel. There are three people and each needs to be in a separate car, for some strange reason,' Peggy told Charlie as they set off towards the main runway.

After the launch trip was complete, they walked down to the pottery where Rose Stevens stood waiting for them beside two cars.

‘You and Charlie are to take one car, Peggy, and I'll take the other. Major Carter has gone ahead to the train station in his private car. We will meet him there, then we'll take the three passengers separately to the Harbour Heights Hotel,' Rose explained.

‘Who are they, Rose? This all seems like a lot of trouble.'

‘You'll see,' Rose replied with a face that told Peggy she was in for a surprise.

She thought again about her mission, and wondered if Charlie should even be here, as new as he was to the team, though she was determined to prove Fletcher wrong about him.

‘Do we need Charlie too? I'm sure there's plenty of work for him to handle on the boat and I can drive quite well on my own,' she offered.

‘It will be good for Charlie to see some more of what we do, Peggy. No problem to have him along with you,' said Rose lightly.

Peggy sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her new knowledge.

When they arrived at the train station, Major Carter was talking with a very recognisable figure. Peggy couldn't believe her eyes.

‘Is that…? It can't be,' she said in awe as a familiarly stooped figure in a long coat, a bowler hat and smoking a cigar shuffled from the platform and into the back of Major Carter's car. Another vaguely familiar gentleman was directed to Rose's vehicle and a third, whom Peggy did not recognise at all, was led towards the back seat of the car she would be driving. Peggy sat in the driver's seat and Rose ducked her head into the window and spoke in a hushed tone, giving Peggy the only information she was going to get.

‘You'll recognise the prime minister, who is going with Major Carter, Peggy, and I'll be taking General de Gaulle. Your passenger is Mr Menzies, the visiting Australian prime minister, but it is enough to call him "sir",' she said, then disappeared back to her own vehicle. Peggy was so stunned, she wondered if she would remember how to drive.

‘Women drivers, hey?' Mr Menzies asked in a tone and accent that was instantly recognisable to Peggy, having spent so much time with Darrell.

‘Yes, Mr Menzies, sir, I'm afraid so. They've issued us with all the right moving parts to operate a clutch successfully,' she said, biting her tongue the moment the words had left her mouth. But she had nothing to fear, and her passenger laughed heartily, understanding her sense of humour perfectly as she set off. Charlie remained silent in the front seat, seeming even more stunned than Peggy by the presence of international dignitaries.

As the motorcade drove away from the station, and everyone's eyes had been on the VIPs and the cars, nobody noticed the lone man who stood leaning against the wall of the train station, his hat pulled low and his face hidden as he held his cigarette close. He watched them leave, then checked his watch and walked off into town quickly.

When they arrived at the Harbour Heights, and she and Charlie stepped out to help with the doors, she heard the unmistakably French accent of the leader of the Free French, General de Gaulle.

‘Goodness gracious, Rose, whatever is going on?' Peggy whispered when the gentlemen had been ushered inside the hotel. Peggy was stunned to think that she, a simple fisherman's daughter from Poole, had just been in the presence of the prime ministers of England and Australia and the man who ought to be prime minister of France.

‘We have no idea, Peggy – ours is not to wonder, just to do our bit with the passenger services, be they by land, sea, or sky. Now remember, both of you: you've seen nothing and no one of any interest, rightio?' Rose asked them, tapping the side of her nose. ‘Loose lips and all that.'

‘No problem at all, Rose. Passengers is all they are, just like the others,' said Charlie confidently. Peggy simply nodded, with an expression that showed exactly how stunned she was, and why she could not speak, and now she wondered how on earth she was ever going to keep this quiet from Molly and her parents. And Darrell.

Later that night, after the day that Peggy knew had changed her life forever, she poured herself a cup of tea and took it upstairs to her room where she sat at her dressing table and stared out of her small bedroom window, which looked over Poole Harbour and towards Brownsea. She thought about the danger there was to each one of them all the time that Hitler was at large. Her brother Samuel, Molly's husband Bill, Darrell – all of them. If there was a risk that there might be a spy in Poole, she had to do everything in her power to stop them. And she knew, then, that she had the strength to do it.