Chapter 26

26

POOLE – JUNE 1941

Peggy woke with that ever-present heavy feeling in her chest that she'd been carrying since the night of the fiasco on the Wareham River. For the last two days, she'd been aching for news, trying to go about normal business, and unable – prohibited by law – to share the details with her family. She'd been called in the night on official business for BOAC, she had told them, and could not tell them any more than that. The loss of her shoes, and the painful state of her feet, as well as the knock to her head and the fact she'd obviously spent considerable time in damp clothes and risked a chill were all of major concern to her mum, dad, and sister.

‘And where's young Darrell when you need him?' demanded her mother. ‘If a young man is worth his salt, he will be there for you when times are tough, Peggy.'

‘Mum, leave him be. He's in the RAAF, for goodness' sake, and has a lot more to think about than looking out for me or bringing me grapes when I'm at home with a cold,' she'd said, doing her best to put her parents off the scent that something much more serious had been going on, and she'd not seen Darrell since their strong words on the doorstep a few nights ago.

‘A head cold, you call this? If you're not in bed with pneumonia by tomorrow, I'll be surprised,' said Mrs Symonds, patting Peggy's hand tenderly.

‘I'll be fine, Mum. And he'll be here soon. You'll see,' Peggy said with such brightness in her voice, nobody would have guessed her pain.

But that afternoon, when Patricia called to visit, she brought with her a gentleman whom Peggy had never imagined would visit her at home. Mr and Mrs Symonds retreated to the kitchen with Molly to allow Peggy a private chat with her visitors in the front room. Molly shut the door as she left and caught Peggy's eye as she did so, her own eyes wide in wonder at what on earth was going on.

‘Good to see you're holding up well enough, Peggy,' said Fletcher before lowering his voice. ‘You're quite sure we can't be heard in here?' he asked her.

‘Quite sure, Mr Fletcher,' answered Peggy. ‘I do apologise for being rested up on this settee, sir. Mother is worried, and I must admit I feel a bit too chesty. I've no idea how long I was in that water, but my guess is a couple of hours at least.'

Fletcher and Patricia both nodded, and Peggy glanced at Pat, wondering what she knew.

‘Has anything been heard of Charlie, or even this other fellow, "Klaus"? I can't believe he is on the run – I was sure he was dead when I last saw him,' asked Peggy.

‘We've come to update you, Peggy, and it might be a little upsetting,' Fletcher said. Peggy's mind immediately turned to Darrell, and she braced herself for the worst possible news, holding back the tears she felt gathering in her throat.

‘A body was discovered floating under the lifting bridge in the early hours of dawn today, and we needed to make sure of exactly who it was,' said Fletcher.

Peggy held her breath, her hand resting on her chest, waiting for this era of her life to be ended. She wondered in that moment if there'd be a sound, like a gunshot that would mark the moment, and thought again of the gunshot she'd fired herself, not knowing if it had met any mark at all.

‘Is it Klaus?' she asked, hoping that Charlie might still be alive, somehow, somewhere.

‘We aren't certain. It could be either Charlie or Klaus, or even someone else. We'd like you to come and help identify the body. For security reasons, it is being held at the RAF base in Hamworthy,' Fletcher said.

Peggy felt her legs shaking and she began to feel quite sick. They had found a body. It was probably Klaus – the bringer of all the trouble, but might also be Charlie. And if it was Charlie, what on earth had happened to Klaus?

Peggy gathered her shoes and outdoor coat, for although the month was now June, the day was cool and damp, and she was already quite unwell. She didn't realise how weak she felt until she walked to the car outside, and was glad to sit down again on the ride to Hamworthy. At the gates, she saw a familiar face, who gave her a meaningful nod. It was one of Darrell's friends she'd met in the pub, and at the dance hall.

Once inside, they were directed to the medical rooms of the base, and asked to wait on hard, wooden chairs in a draughty corridor – a fact Fletcher complained of at once, owing to Peggy's delicate state of health. Once inside the clinical room, the body seemed like a marble statue under its white sheet on the raised table. The RAF doctor peeled back the sheet and Peggy, who only realised now that she was fully intending to see the face of Klaus, was shocked to see Charlie lying there.

She stared for a few seconds, tears running freely down her face, before Fletcher prompted her.

‘Can you confirm if you know this man, Peggy?' he asked her.

‘Yes. Yes, this is Charlie Edwards – the man we know as Charlie Edwards. But I believe his real name was Hans Meyers,' she added.

‘You're quite sure? This is Charlie, and not Klaus?' he asked.

‘I'm certain, sir. This is Charlie, who I've been working with these past months, and getting to know extremely well in recent weeks.' Overwhelming emotions overtook her now and whether or not it was grief, exhaustion, regret, or relief that her mission was now over, she could take no more. She slumped into a chair and held her head in her hands as tears streamed down her face and she gasped for air between sobs.

In the corridor outside, Darrell had positioned himself to watch through a narrow window. He'd heard that Peggy had arrived on site, and that there was a body being held in the medical rooms. He had waited and watched to see Peggy's reaction, and now he knew. This was Charlie, this dead man. And Peggy was completely devastated by the loss. Darrell choked on the thickening in his throat and one lone tear escaped as he watched with a trembling lip the woman of his dreams grieving for the man she loved more than him. He spun on his heels and went straight to his group captain's office, knocking firmly on the door, before entering on command.

‘Sir, you mentioned more men were needed in Plymouth?'

‘That's right, Flight Lieutenant. There have been some movements and some extra staff are needed on hand there.'

‘I'd like to be put in for a transfer, sir, as soon as possible,' said Darrell, speaking quickly before he could change his mind.

‘Are you sure? I understood you had a young lady here in Poole that you wished to be close to?'

‘I did, sir, but not any more. When can I leave?'

The group captain sat back in his chair and saw the determination in Darrell's face.

‘We can have you there tomorrow, if you like. If you're certain?'

‘I'm quite certain, sir. Thank you,' Darrell said, saluting and turning to leave the office and walk across the yard, his chest burning with a pain he'd never known before. He daren't look out across the harbour to where he knew he would always imagine Peggy, her blonde curls blowing in the breeze as she flew across the water.

Back in the medical room, Peggy raised her head as a question occurred to her. Did she really want to know? What if this had been her fault?

‘How did he die, sir?' Peggy asked, so quietly, Fletcher asked her to repeat herself.

‘Charlie,' she said clearing her throat and speaking up. ‘How did he die? Surely not from simply falling into the water during a fight?'

‘It would seem he had a gunshot wound to the shoulder, and he'd lost of a lot of blood. There's also a nasty knock on the back of the head, so he was possibly unconscious when he entered the water. Without help, he didn't have much chance of survival, and he drowned, one way or another,' the doctor explained.

And who had been responsible for that gunshot? Peggy's own untrained and stupid, accidental shot. She'd managed a hit to Klaus, which she had been intending, she was sure, but somehow, she'd accidentally killed innocent Charlie.

Despite the trauma of the last few days, Peggy slept deeply and peacefully that night, and the threatened pneumonia never came. Two days later, she had recovered from her head cold, and felt well enough to go to work.

‘There are things to do, Mum, and planes to meet. The sooner I get back to it, the better,' she'd said as she put on her cap and left for the routine walk up to Poole Quay. Nobody had to know that she was dying on the inside, that she had killed an innocent man, and her heart was shattered. And she needed to find Darrell, and explain as much as she could, but she had to speak with Fletcher first.

At the Custom House steps, she felt for a moment that she'd seen a glimpse of Charlie, crossing the quay quickly and disappearing up one of the lanes, but she knew her mind was playing tricks on her. The Dutch boat had been collected, cleaned, and impounded by the harbour master and it was moored up along the quay just a few yards from the BOAC launch. Peggy went along to look down inside the boat, to the place where she'd seen what she had been convinced was Klaus's dead body. Where could he possibly have gone? Had someone come to help him? She was sure he was dead, and yet it was Charlie lying cold in the mortuary. Charlie who'd seemed so good, and so heartbroken, and yet hopeful for a future in Poole Harbour. With her. It was all wrong.

The day went by in a dull dream, and everything Peggy saw before her was covered with a mist that seemed to come from her own mind. By the afternoon, she was exhausted, and when Patricia called her in to take a phone call from Fletcher, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

‘Thank you for all you've done, Peggy. I know you're still struggling, but we have news that might interest you,' he said.

‘Peggy, you'll be aware that your mission was to follow Charlie Edwards – as we knew him – to try and ascertain if he might be a spy,' Fletcher began, not expecting any answer. ‘And you did an excellent job of uncovering not only his true identity, but also leading us to another person of interest whom we had not imagined was at all connected. Klaus Schmidt was indeed a German spy and we have discovered that it was he who was responsible for leaking the information about our VIP guests, which led to the air raid, aimed to kill them all. Thankfully, this endeavour failed, and our leaders survived, although Poole took a terrible hit that night.'

‘But he is still missing, isn't he?' asked Peggy.

‘Not any more. The marines conducted a deep search of the marshes, and found our Klaus injured, but alive, and had him taken in for questioning. We have now been able to ascertain that Mr Klaus Schmidt had been harassing our friend Charlie who, although Dutch and of German descent, was not an enemy at all, but a man determined to fight against Germany,' Fletcher continued. ‘And so this little venture is at an end. However, Miss Symonds, we have been singularly impressed by your bravery and professionalism, and would ask you to consider coming on board for more formal training for future work of a similar nature,' he said.

Peggy held the receiver with both hands and stared out the window across the harbour and towards Brownsea Island. She thought of all the trauma of the last few days, but of how in the end her involvement had led to the capture a German spy – and the death of an innocent man. Did she want more of this? Or did she long to settle down with Darrell for a life of homely comfort? She sighed deeply before responding.

‘Mr Fletcher, do I have a choice? Because I do have a gentleman friend that I intend to marry, and settle down with. If the country can do without me, I think I would rather decline.'

‘That is a great disappointment to us, of course, but yes, it is your choice. However, should you ever change your mind, just call that number in Whitehall and use the same code to get back in touch,' he said, and ended the call.

That evening, Peggy sat at the corner table in the Antelope, in exactly the place she'd been sitting when she first met Darrell. She was sure the airmen would be along soon, and within minutes, she heard their familiar accents fill the bar. She dared not look up, though she knew Darrell would be among them. But as the minutes wore on, and he didn't come to her side, she dared to look around. She could not see him, though many of his friends were there. At last, she saw one of his closest friends and made eye contact, and he came over to sit with her.

‘Looking for Darrell, are you, love?' he asked kindly, and when Peggy nodded, he frowned and continued. ‘He's left Hamworthy – got a transfer elsewhere. Went yesterday.' There was no easy way to say it, and the Australian way was straight up – right between the eyes.

‘What? Where? Why?' demanded Peggy. ‘He must be coming back, though? How do I reach him? He didn't even say goodbye,' she said, tears pricking her throat.

The Australian coughed and put his pint down.

‘From what I heard, he knew you were seeing that other bloke, Charlie, and that turned the milk for him, so to speak. Never mind though, love, plenty more fish in the sea, hey?' He laughed, nodding in the direction of his fellow airmen who were playing a rowdy game of darts in the back of the pub.

Peggy tried to smile, but instead picked up her things and left the pub in a hurry, the tears flowing freely now. She ran to the quay, and on beyond the activity of all the pubs, down to the dark lifeboat house. She sat on the wall there, legs dangling over the edge of the quay, looking across the black harbour to Brownsea.

This life of hers, the harbour, the boats, even the excitement of the flying boats, would be meaningless to her now if she couldn't share it with Darrell, she realised. She had her mum and dad, and Molly, and the baby would be here soon, but how could she go on as before after all this? After she'd known the man whom she'd wanted to share her life with, and lost him?

She sat there, in the dark, until the tears ran dry, then thought again of all the action of these last few weeks. She felt in her bag where the pistol would have been, if she was still in service under the secret ministry work. And she made her choice.

The next morning, Peggy went straight to Patricia's office and asked to use the telephone. She asked the operator for the number in Whitehall, and gave the code words.

‘Mr Fletcher,' she said when she was finally through. ‘I've changed my mind. Where do I go for training?'