‘Me? In Svengejar? But what nonsense. I am here, dear heart. And thank goodness I am! Even a few more moments and you would have . . .’ She tucked the fur tighter around Marina’s neck. ‘You silly little fool. Don’t you know that the winter this far north will eat you?’
‘My father . . .’ Marina’s head felt heavy. The relief of seeing Miss Smith gave her body permission to feel unbearably tired. If only she could lie down. She closed her eyes.
‘Your father?’ Miss Smith shook her slightly. ‘But he is in Cadiz on the HMS Neptune. You told me yourself.’
‘No . . .’
‘The Neptune is not in Spain?’
‘It is.’ If only she could sleep. ‘But my father is on a different boat. It’s a fishing boat. And he’s come north. That’s how I saw you – in Svengejar – I got off the Sea Witch because I saw you on the docks. Your hood was up, but your hair had come loose. You were running through the streets. A short skirt and boots. You had gone to meet someone. I was just about to call out when—’
‘Does your head hurt? You seem to be saying such strange things.’ Miss Smith did not say anything about Svengejar.
Marina felt confused. ‘But what are you doing here?’
Miss Smith’s beautiful pale forehead creased in a frown. ‘We keep a sonar transmitter on this island. An enemy spy has come to steal it.’
Where was her father? He had come to repair some old sonar transmitter and yet he had unwittingly wandered into a landscape of enemy spies. ‘I have to find my father,’ Marina said.
‘What do you mean, you have to find your father? You said he was on his boat.’
‘But he went to the whaling station. He hasn’t returned. And now the Sea Witch has left for Portsmouth. But I couldn’t leave my father here, alone.’
‘Let me help. How long ago did he leave?’
‘Two days ago.’
‘What time?’
‘Eleven hundred hours.’ Marina sniffed.
‘There, there, don’t fret. Your father is an exceptional naval officer. Why, they have yet to invent a situation that he can’t get himself out of. But still. We must move quickly. How fortunate that I am here, just in time.’ She turned away to the other figure, who was waiting near a submarine for that is what the dark shape beneath the ice had been. ‘Can you get my young friend something warm to drink? We still have a way to go and she’s half frozen.’
The figure, his face obscured by goggles and the hood of a long fur coat, stepped forward. He reached into his pocket and brought out a hip flask, which he handed to Marina.
‘Don’t be foolish! You must help her. She’s too weak to drink by herself.’
The man – Marina believed that it must be a man as the figure was so tall – put the flask to her lips. Whatever was inside was sweet and warm.
‘It tastes of cherries,’ she muttered.
‘It’s good, heh?’ Miss Smith smiled. ‘We can’t get any closer to the whaling station in my submarine: the underwater channel has already frozen. So now we will go the rest of the way on foot. My manservant will bring everything we need. He’s immensely strong and will not tire. We will move quickly. You will see.’
The servant now pulled on a set of loose white clothing over the top of his furs. He strung a rifle over his shoulder. He then dragged a sledge and some long pieces of wood from the submarine’s gaping mouth. Marina watched as Miss Smith strapped the pieces of wood to her boots and laced them around her ankles. The man handed Miss Smith two poles, and indicated that Marina should sit on his sledge before wrapping her in more fur.
Paddy growled.
‘He won’t hurt you,’ Marina said, weakly.
The manservant picked Paddy up and tucked him in with Marina. ‘He likes you,’ Marina said to the silent man. And it did seem that Paddy looked up at the man with grateful eyes. And then the brave, tired dog sighed and settled his head against Marina’s chest, and yowled that he hoped she would find him an effective blanket.
The manservant strapped two pieces of wood to his feet, slipped a leather harness over his shoulders and started to move forward on his skis. Miss Smith took her lipstick out of her coat pocket and painted her lips. That seemed an odd thing to do in the middle of that desolate place: it was like watching a dark red rose bloom in the snow.
‘Tallyho!’ Miss Smith cried to the open, cold, star-filled sky. And she set off with loose-limbed speed.
26
Miss Smith glided ahead. Marina, tucked under a pile of furs on the sledge, Paddy’s head on her chest, gave in to the rhythmic movement of being dragged over the snow. The landscape, which before had felt so hostile, now seemed beautiful. Stars quivered overhead and the snow glistened. ‘We’re safe,’ she whispered to Paddy as she touched the frost flowers on the furs. ‘And Miss Smith will help us find Father and your friends. We’ll soon all be together again.’ She stroked Paddy’s ear and he sighed contentedly.
Perhaps Marina dozed, because when she opened her eyes she saw a group of huts on the horizon. Lights shone like pillars into the sky.
As they came closer, Marina saw the huts were surrounded by large coils of wire. There was a sentry box at the edge of the compound. Miss Smith signalled to her manservant to halt the sledge while she approached the sentry, also dressed in a loose white uniform, the hood pulled up against the biting cold. After a brief exchange, the man saluted Miss Smith, who then waved her manservant on. The sentry stood to attention as the sledge slid past.
Beyond the sentry box, more white-suited figures were pushing wooden cases on rollers across the ice. Light spilled out from the huts, and Marina heard a blur of male voices.
The Admiralty base looked well guarded,
