‘It’s no trouble.’ Looking up, Bess said, ‘The snow won’t get heavier – there’s too much blue sky. Besides, I want to wave you off.’ She headed off along the tunnel leading to the platforms. ‘Come on.’
‘Bess – hang on, will you?’
‘What is it?’
‘I might as well tell you. You’ll know anyway, when I buy my ticket.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘I’m not going back to Coltishall. I’m going to London.’
‘London? Why?’
‘I can’t say. It’s a bit hush-hush.’
‘Is it to do with the RAF Task Force, or whatever it’s called, in France? Is that why you’ve learnt French?’
‘Not exactly. The Advanced Strike Force has disbanded, changed--’
‘What then? Claire, you’re worrying me. What have you got yourself into?’
‘I haven’t got myself into anything. Why do you always-- Sorry.’ She thought carefully about how much she could tell Bess without causing her to worry even more. Worse still, go home and tell her father. ‘I told Dad I was going to work as a translator, which is true. The thing is, translating is only a small part of the job.’
Frown lines appeared on Bess’s forehead. ‘What does the bigger part of the job entail?’
‘If I tell you, you must give me your word that you won’t tell anyone.’
Bess thought for a long minute. ‘You have my word.’
‘It’s top secret. I shouldn’t be talking about it, but if I’m not able to write home for a while, and Mam and Dad start fretting, I was hoping you’d cover for me if you understood how important the job is. Well?’
‘Of course I will.’
Claire bit her bottom lip. She shouldn’t be telling her sister, but she’d said too much now to go back. ‘Some people to do with the government came up to Coltishall and interviewed me because I speak French.’
‘So you are going to France?’
‘No! I don’t know. I’ve been asked to go for an interview.’
‘In London?’
‘Yes. And if they like me, if they think I’d be suitable, I’m in with a chance. But there’s a rigorous training programme to get through first, and endless intelligence tests, which I probably won’t pass. But,’ Claire said, ‘if I get through it all and they ask me to go to France, I will.’ Bess smiled, but Claire could see worry in her sister’s eyes. She put her hand on Bess’s arm. ‘You do understand, don’t you?’
‘If you’ve thought it through, and you’re aware of the dangers of the job… You are, aren’t you?’ Claire took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Then I understand.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire whispered.
‘So come on then,’ Bess said, ‘you don’t want miss your train, do you?’
‘I didn’t want to lie to Dad,’ Claire said, as they reached the platform. ‘He knows I’m going to be translating German military conversations. I just didn’t tell him it might be in France. You won’t tell him, will you?’
‘Good God, no! He’s worried enough about Tom going back to France and Margaret living in London. I don’t intend to add to his worries. It doesn’t stop me from worrying though.’
‘But there’s no need.’ Claire threw her arms around her sister. ‘If I go – and it’s a big if – I shall only be observing and reporting back, so there’s nothing to worry about. Anyway, I haven’t got the job yet. I might not pass the tests.’
The train came into the station billowing steam. ‘Well, this is it! I mean, for the time being,’ Bess said, moving to the edge of the platform.
‘Yes, for the time being.’ Claire put down her case, took her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll write to you from London.’
‘The train will leave without you if you don’t get on. Here,’ Bess opened the door and Claire threw her case in. ‘Whatever happens, you’ll let me know?’
‘I will,’ she shouted, boarding. The platform attendant blew his whistle and Claire waved goodbye to her oldest sister.
Suitcase in one hand and bag in the other, Claire struggled past dozens of servicemen standing in the crowded corridor smoking. She looked in each compartment. Every seat was taken, so in a fog of cigarette smoke she dropped her suitcase and sat on it. Looking over the ledge of the window, she gazed out. The snow-covered fields of Warwickshire, and then Northamptonshire, disappeared from view as quickly as they appeared. The rhythm of the train was comforting and Claire closed her eyes.
‘Excuse me?’ Claire sat up with a start when someone tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Would you like my seat?’ a middle-aged man in a smart suit asked.
Stumbling to her feet, Claire looked around to get her bearings. ‘If you’re sure?’ she said, by which time the man was hauling her suitcase onto the overhead rack of the nearest compartment.
‘I need to stretch my legs. Besides, I shall be leaving the train soon,’ he said, picking up his briefcase.
Grateful to the man, Claire wriggled down in the seat, put her head on the backrest and closed her eyes. She woke when she was tapped on the shoulder again, this time by a porter at Euston.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pushing though crowds of people clamouring to board the train that she had just left, Claire inched her way along the platform. She sighed, overwhelmed by the size of Euston Station and the number of people. She passed a couple of girls talking loudly about their sweethearts going off to their regiments. One of them burst into
