Chapter 20

20

POOLE – MARCH 1941

Peggy had thought, in the few moments she had taken to consider what could be so important that she might be expected to sign the Official Secrets Act, that she was going to be asked to become a regular driver for the VIP political leaders visiting Poole Harbour. Or perhaps she was even being asked to become an air stewardess and fly with them – an idea that thrilled her to the core. That she might be asked to take part in what was essentially a spy role would never have occurred to her. Didn't they already have agents for that? What could she do that was so important to the country? She had asked these and many other questions in the moments after Fletcher had explained the problem to her.

And now, early on the day after the most awful bombing raid Poole had suffered so far, she was about to find out more detail. As she'd arrived for work that morning, Patricia had told her there was a new plan for the day. She was to go home, change out of her uniform and go directly to the train station where she would catch the eight o'clock train to Waterloo Station in London. She was to walk from Westminster to an address in Whitehall, where she would meet with Mr Fletcher.

The look on her face must have told Pat that Peggy had a thousand questions, but Patricia just held up her hand.

‘Peggy, I know it's all strange. But the instructions have come from the highest level of government. You just have to do as you're asked.'

Peggy was grateful that her family were all still in bed when she went home, and nobody noticed her changing into her best dress, hat, and coat, and heading out again. On the train, she'd thought of little except Darrell and how this new role might come between them.

Once the train neared central London, Peggy had been horrified to witness the damage to the buildings around her, the sandbags, the gaping holes where homes had once stood. There were fire trucks attending to fires that still burned from raids the night before, and yet, amongst it all, women still walked out with their prams to fetch food for the day, children played in the streets, there was a semblance of normal life.

Once she reached the address in Whitehall, just a short walk from the Houses of Parliament, she was ushered down a series of corridors before she came face to face with Fletcher again. He reminded her of the serious nature of the mission she was being tasked with and updated her on the events of the night before.

‘As I explained, Miss Symonds, we believe that Charlie Edwards is not who he says he is. We now think that he may be a German spy, and that he sent information to the German forces yesterday about the whereabouts of the VIPs you were involved in transporting. The air raid last night could have been meant to wipe them out, all three. Thankfully, the decoy on Brownsea Island worked a treat. The village of Maryland is probably smashed to smithereens this morning, but the Harbour Heights Hotel still stands, and our leaders live on. And today, they will fly to a secret destination for diplomatic discussions with other countries, just as they planned to do.'

Peggy was astounded at the local knowledge Fletcher had and wondered how much time he had spent in Poole before she met him. Had someone been watching her as well?

‘Goodness gracious! But what exactly am I to do?' Peggy asked, bemused by the whole situation. ‘I'm just a launch operator; I'm not a trained spy. How can I help?'

‘Today, you will receive some basic training, and we have one or two helpful articles to give you that all our operatives carry. Essentially, though, we want you to carry on doing exactly what you do with Charlie by your side, but we need you to listen. To get closer to him. To get as close to him as you possibly can, Peggy,' said Fletcher with great meaning in his eyes and tone. ‘Become so close that he thinks you're his girl, if necessary.'

Peggy's mind and heart reeled as she realised the full extent of what Fletcher was asking her to do. She was being asked to put Darrell completely aside, and strive for a relationship with Charlie so deep that he would confide all his secrets to her. The idea churned her stomach and she felt her heartbeat quicken irregularly as panic at losing Darrell almost overcame her.

‘I can see that this is asking an awful lot of you, my dear, but you must remember how much is at stake. Find out anything you can about this "Charlie" and tell us everything you learn. You'll be shown today how to write telegrams to us in code that we will understand and that will seem quite ordinary to others. And remember, we don't know yet that he is a spy, and there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the discrepancies in stories. Last night's raid could have been pure coincidence. But the more information we have on him, the better.'

By the end of the day, Peggy had been shown some basic self-defence techniques, was issued with a small pistol and taught how to use it, and learnt an elementary code system for her telegram missives back to Whitehall, and a phone number and code to use for emergency calls. Fletcher had explained to her that once her mission with Charlie concluded – whatever that looked like – she might be asked to take some more thorough training and continue in the same line of work if she wished.

On the train home that evening, Peggy's mind swam with new information and ideas – things that had never occurred to her before in her predictable life in Poole, on the shores of the harbour. She was still utterly determined that this new line of work would not cause any tension between her and Darrell, but was beginning to wonder quite how she would manage that. As the beautiful English countryside sped past the carriage window, she remembered the devastating destruction she had seen in and around London. The whole population were, every one of them, living on the edge, nobody knowing if a bomb with their name on it could fall at any time.

And now she was putting herself directly into the path of danger. Much more danger. Keeping an eye on Charlie was one thing, but looking for a German spy who might be lurking, waiting to kill in cold blood the very leaders they all depended on – that was something else altogether. A mind like that would not hold back from eliminating her, in any way necessary. And what if the worst happened to her, and she never had chance to let Darrell know how she felt about him? He was bound to start doubting her once she spent more time with Charlie, and she had to let him know, even if she died, that she loved him.

Peggy pulled out the notepaper she'd been given in Whitehall earlier that day, and began a letter to Darrell. She would ask Rose to keep it filed away somewhere safe, just in case she lost her life to this mission. She searched her heart for the words to write, and began.

My dearest Darrell,

If you are reading this letter, then I am so terribly sorry for your loss…

When she arrived home, she had been expecting to have to explain her day but found, strangely, that everyone seemed to know where she'd been – although everyone believed a lie. Her family had been told by Rose Stevens that she'd been to Southampton for the day for some urgent training on the Solent regarding BOAC work. The next morning, she learnt that Rose had been told this by Patricia, who had also advised Nora and Eileen the same thing. The intricacies of the lies that she was already involved in amazed and horrified Peggy in equal amounts, and she longed for the simplicity of her life a few days earlier.

The presence of the pistol that she carried in her small kitbag seemed to make it much heavier than it really was, and Peggy imagined everyone would be able to sense it even if they never saw it.

Patricia gave her the rundown for the day's jobs, as if nothing in the world was different.

‘Now, Peggy, Charlie will be waiting to meet you at the launch, and you'll be picking up some passengers at Salterns Marina and taking them out to the Clare this morning.'

Peggy stepped out into the spring March air. It was beginning to feel quite a bit less chilled even at this early and dark hour of the morning. April was only days away now, and though the days were growing slightly longer, the mornings were still terribly dark owing to the war-time one hour advance that was in place the year-round to increase productivity. But in a few weeks' time, on May the 4th, the clocks would spring forward another hour for British summertime. Then the evenings would be wonderfully long, and the blackout would hardly be a problem at all.

Peggy marvelled at her ability to be distracted by such things, considering the enormity of what had transpired over the last two days. She was practically a spy now, and sworn to secrecy her whole life through.

Peggy still couldn't imagine there was anything untoward about Charlie. He seemed such a nice chap, happy and helpful, and kind. He was a gentleman. But Peggy also knew the woman who had reported on Charlie, and trusted her as well. No, she realised. She really didn't know any of these people at all well and they could be anything other than what she believed them to be. One thing was sure though – Charlie definitely had a history of working on boats. Of that she was certain. His skills spoke for him in that regard. As she approached the Custom House steps where the launch was tied up, she saw Charlie ahead of her. He had already collected the key and was working with Nora to get the launch ready.

Once on the launch, and carrying out her normal duties, Peggy had the strangest feeling. Nothing had changed, in essence. This was the same launch, and the same crew she'd been working with for a couple of weeks – Nora for much longer, of course – and they were taking the same route she'd taken dozens, or even hundreds of times before. Yes, she had been in the presence of Churchill just two days ago, and he could have been dead by now, and that was a little jarring to the nervous system. But it was more than that. It was the sense that she was changed now, that everything about the way she would behave from this point on was tainted by this new role. She watched Charlie without watching him. She listened to him without looking as though she was listening. She saw him as another creature entirely. And she wondered if that was really fair.

What if his story was true, and this was all just a mistake? Would she be able to go back and see him the same way again? But then again, what was his story, really? Did she even know?

They pulled into the jetty at Salterns Marina, collected the small party of passengers, delivered them to the waiting flying boat and towed it out to the start of the number-one runway. Everything went like clockwork, just as it always did. And nothing was said that could possibly give away where these passengers were headed – even Peggy had no idea of their destination, and she heard that neither did the stewardess. The details were being kept secret from even the pilot until he was in the air. But Peggy still watched Charlie like a hawk and started to plan how she might get closer to him to learn more about him.

Peggy remembered the way Charlie had complimented her, and made her feel as though he would have liked to have had a chance with her if she hadn't already met Darrell.

Darrell. How was she supposed to get closer to Charlie without offending Darrell? She absolutely could not risk their budding romance, yet now she was sworn to secrecy. But so was Darrell, she suspected, being part of the RAAF. He wasn't allowed to tell her too much about where he'd been or what he'd been doing. Could she say something vague, and just ask him to trust her? What man would agree to that?

‘Penny for your thoughts, Peggy?' Charlie's voice broke into her mind's wanderings like the sharp point of a knife. She felt as though time stopped then, for an indefinite period. She seemed to have enough time to think through all the possible ramifications of what she was about to say, accept the outcome, compose her answer, and begin the play-acting role of a secret spy, all in the time it took for her to draw breath and turn to look into Charlie's face.

‘I was just thinking how unusual this all is, Charlie. Meeting three such important people, then the air raid the other night, and now seeing these passengers off to who knows where on this very secretive flight. These are strange times we live in, don't you agree?' she asked him.

‘It certainly is peculiar. Imagine them trusting us – simple boatmen as we are – with the job of protecting such important characters. I'd have thought they'd need, at the very least, an army or navy escort,' Charlie said thoughtfully.

‘I wonder why they travelled with BOAC, rather than on one of the Sandringhams at the RAF base?' Peggy asked, thinking out loud as much as asking Charlie. She was surprised when he answered.

‘Perhaps they thought it less of a safety risk this way. I would think any enemy attack would be directed at the defence bases and transports, rather than civilian ones, wouldn't you?'

‘I suppose so, if they know where to find them,' Peggy answered, as she slowed the launch on the approach to Poole Quay. ‘Here, Charlie – you take the helm from here. You're more than confident,' she said stepping back and giving him room. ‘Tell me again where it was that you got your experience with boats. You're so confident with this launch, I'd hazard a guess you've handled plenty like her before,' Peggy said, encouraging him to talk about himself.

She noticed that Charlie hesitated for a discernible moment before he answered.

‘Mostly on the docks in London, but before the war, I spent some time on the continent too.'

‘And where's your family? Are they in London?' she pried, and this time, she saw his face twitch with something like pain, or hate, or possibly even regret.

‘I don't have any family any more, Peggy. The war took them all. The war's taken all I had left that was precious to me,' he said, avoiding her question in a way that made it impossible to probe any further without offending him.

He brought the launch in to the quay and Nora and Peggy worked to secure it, while Charlie shut down the engines. The three of them walked over to the offices to return the key and look at the schedule for the rest of the day.

‘You all get an early dinner break, today,' said Patricia as she checked the flying boat itineraries. ‘There's nothing due in now until four o'clock, and Rose doesn't even have any driving jobs for you today.'

Nora took no time at all to act on the good news and head home to her mother, looking forwards to a hot dinner and an afternoon tending the vegetables in the garden before coming back on duty again. Peggy looked at her watch and made a proposition to Charlie.

‘Far too early for me to go home, Charlie, and I don't expect your landlady will want you hanging around under her feet while she cooks, either. Why don't we pop into the pub for a quick drink before dinner time?' she asked him, knowing full well she was pushing into unusual territory. She would never have dared asked a male workmate for a drink before this morning. What other new and strange behaviours might this peculiar mission lead her into? Peggy wondered.

Charlie bought a pint and a half of beer and carried the two glasses over to the table in the back corner of the Jolly Sailor where Peggy waited for him. She had suggested the Jolly Sailor, but he said he'd preferred this pub, and seemed to be glancing around him looking for someone he either did or didn't want to see, Peggy thought as she watched him. She tried again to find out a little more about how he spent his time when he wasn't working.

‘So, with no family here, Charlie, and living in digs as you do, how do you spend your free time?'

Charlie looked at her with a confused expression and she tried again.

‘What do you do to relax, I mean? I have my parents and sister, and the garden to tend, and there's always something to be doing on a boat with my dad,' she prompted.

‘And you spend a bit of time with that airman, too, I've noticed,' he said with a sideways glance in her direction. She knew he was really asking her what she thought Darrell would think of her spending time with Charlie in a pub, in the middle of the day, alone.

‘Yes, that's right. The Australians seem to have made the Antelope their Poole local, and that's where my family goes most often,' she said, trying to generalise her attachment to Darrell as being to the whole of the Australian Squadron. ‘I've danced with them all, Charlie. I'm nobody's girl in particular,' she lied and was shocked at how easily it slipped off her tongue.

By the time Peggy walked home alone for the hot dinner that awaited her there, she had learnt that Charlie spent most of his spare time thinking of his late wife and child who had both died in an air raid, and he had readily admitted that he had spent some time somewhere on the continent before the war. And even though she had been tasked with finding out if Charlie might be lying about any of his past and could in fact be a German spy, she still found that hard to believe and dearly hoped she might be able to prove otherwise. But when she thought of her brother and Molly's husband and the peril they faced at the hands of the Nazis, she was reminded how important it was to do everything possible to eliminate the enemy. Whoever he was.

One other interesting thing she had learnt from Charlie was that he now lived with a Mrs Rogers in Blue Boar Lane, but this was probably not new information to Fletcher. However, what neither Charlie nor Fletcher knew was that Mrs Rogers was the widow of one of Peggy's mother's cousins. This gave Peggy a clear line to finding out more about Charlie without him even knowing.

As she opened the front door at home, the welcome aroma of oxtail soup greeted her and she could hear her family already gathered in the kitchen.

‘Sorry I'm a bit later, Mum. I was catching up with Charlie, our new hand on the launch,' Peggy explained. ‘Did you know he is boarding with Aunty Joan?' Peggy asked her mother.

‘Our Barry's Joan, you mean, down Blue Boar Lane? That poor woman's had such a tough life, you know. Well, I'm happy for her that she's able to get boarders in. That'll help her make ends meet,' Mrs Symonds said as she ladled out the soup and Molly sliced and buttered some bread to go with it.

‘Once this war is over, and I move out with Bill and this little one, you'll have a room here you can let out to a lodger, Mum. And perhaps our Peggy will be making a home with an Australian airman we know,' Molly said with a wink.

Peggy smiled at the idea but was keen to turn the conversation back to the task at hand. She already feared that the happy ending she'd so easily imagined just days ago might never come to pass. She didn't need reminding of it now. She had to stay focused on the mission.

‘Do you see Aunty Joan to talk to very much, Mum? It's just that me and the other girls would be interested to know a little more about Charlie, working with him as we do, and what with him coming from out of town. He doesn't seem to have any family to speak of,' she said.

‘You're not a bit sweet on him then love? I thought Darrell was the one who'd caught your eye,' Mrs Symonds said.

‘Not me, Mum. Nora is a bit keen though. But she's shy, and would rather know a bit more about him before showing him any signs,' Peggy said, thinking on her feet.

Peggy knew this was all she needed to say to prompt her mother on her own mission of investigations. Anyone who came from out of town and was entering the world of her girls and their friends was to be treated with suspicion, and Mrs Symonds would dig out any information there was to be mined on Charlie's story.

After lunch, Molly helped their mother with the washing up while Peggy went outside to help her dad with some work in the vegetable garden, which was beginning to really take off now that spring was advancing. There were pea sticks to put in and seeds to sow at their bases, carrot and radish seeds to sow, and tomato and lettuce seedlings to plant out. The leeks were coming along, and there were some new potatoes to harvest already. As Peggy gently felt for them in the soil under her gloved hands, she could almost taste the rich butter they used to melt lavishly on these delicious morsels, back when butter was freely available.

‘When this war is over, Dad, and we don't have to live under rationing any more, I'm going to buy a pound of butter, and a pound of sugar every single time I go to the shops, just because I can!' she said with longing in her voice.

Her father laughed heartily, but the look he gave her showed her he couldn't agree more.

Peggy rested for a while and leant on the back fence, looking across the harbour. The flames on Brownsea Island had died down somewhat but there was still an awful lot of smoke coming across the water.

‘Strange to think how close all those bombs were to us the other night. The decoy over there seems to be working well,' she mused.

‘It certainly is. Sad to sacrifice the village, but better that than the lived-in homes here in town,' he said, and Peggy was grateful afresh for the pragmatism that had grounded her as she had grown up. She went back to her planting, resting on her knees not far from her dad, thinking all the while.

‘Dad,' she said at length, ‘I was given an interesting task this morning. I can't tell you or anyone else anything about it, naturally, but I'm worried about Darrell.'

‘Why would you be worried about that strapping lad, love? I'm sure he can look after 'isself.' Her father chortled.

Peggy smiled, belying the anxiety that was growing inside.

‘I have no doubt he can look after himself perfectly well, Dad. I'm just worried about what he might think of me. I'm going to have to spend some time away from him, because of work, and… it is going to seem… as if I were growing cold on Darrell. And I'm not! I think he's the loveliest man I ever knew, and I'm worried he might get the wrong idea. That's all,' she said, wondering if she was digging herself a hole that it might be hard to climb out of without using the details of her mission as rungs on the ladder.

Mr Symonds stood up, brushed the soil from his knees and hands, and perched against the fence, taking a good look at his daughter.

‘Peggy, you're a bright girl. You always have been capable of anything. If you've been trusted with a job that you can't share with any of us, then it's an important one, and one I'm sure you will do very well. Darrell is an intelligent man, Peggy. Explain to him what you've said to me, and I'm sure he'll understand,' he said, patting her on the arm and bending back down to the rows of new plantings. ‘Come on, Peg. These vegetables won't plant themselves.'

After the work was done, and their tools and hands all scrubbed clean alike, Peggy and her dad went back inside for a welcome rest and a cup of tea. Peggy had been thinking about how she would talk to Darrell and what she might say, but she still had a knot of worry in her stomach about carrying a secret that could mean some people – Darrell especially – might think less of her. She would look for a chance to see him again, and soon, to show him how much she cared for him.