Taking her lead from Freda, Ena lifted her glass and took a sip of the sweet wine. It tasted strong at first but warmed her when she swallowed. ‘This is the life.’ Ena took another sip. ‘I could get used to this,’ she joked, relaxing in the comfortable armchair. Freda flung her head back and spat out a cynical laugh.
Startled, Ena put down her glass. Was Freda mocking her because she thought Ena was out of place in a hotel, which she certainly was not. Ena looked at her friend. It was more than that, much more. There was sadness in her eyes, anger too. And there was something else, but Ena couldn’t put her finger on it. ‘What on earth’s the matter, Freda?’
She watched her friend knock her drink back in one. Freda banged the glass down on the table, attracting the interest of the people at the next table. ‘On our wages?’ Freda said with sarcasm in her voice. ‘Not a chance!’
Ena didn’t believe Freda’s mood change had anything to do with money. She had been quieter than usual since arriving in Bletchley. She didn’t like travelling by train, but surely that wasn’t the reason for such an outburst. Ena looked at her watch. ‘We had better go. The train will be here in a couple of minutes.’ Getting to her feet, she picked up her gasmask and handbag. She no longer fancied the sherry and left it on the table.
At the door, Ena waited for Freda. She was gathering her belongings. Both sherry glasses were empty.
CHAPTER FOUR
After three city types in dark overcoats and bowler hats left the train, Ena and Freda boarded. The train had come up from London Euston and there were as many businessmen as there were servicemen standing in the corridor.
Ena followed Freda, looking in each compartment for vacant seats. The train was full and they had to try two carriages before they found anywhere to sit, eventually finding a compartment with only one person in it. The passenger, an elderly woman wearing a tweed coat and a brown felt hat, was asleep.
As the train pulled into Northampton station, Ena glanced at the tag on the woman’s carpet bag. ‘Excuse me?’ she said, tapping the woman on the arm. ‘I think this is your station.’
Half asleep, the woman leapt to her feet and looked out of the window. ‘So it is, my dear,’ she said, in a voice thick with sleep. And in a flurry of browns and greens, she scooped up her belongings and fled the compartment.
Ena had begun to feel queasy and took the pear drops from her handbag. ‘Want one?’ She offered Freda the paper cone.
Freda shook her head. ‘No thank you.’
Ena popped a sweet into her mouth, twisted the paper at the top to stop the rest of the sweets from falling out, and returned them to her handbag. With the sharp, tangy taste to enjoy, her stomach calmed down.
By the time she had sucked the sweet to a smooth slither, she no longer felt sick.
Feeling better, Ena looked across the compartment at Freda and smiled. Freda cast her eyes down.
‘Is something the matter, Freda? Are you angry with me?’
‘No. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself for spoiling your treat.’
‘I don’t care about a glass of sherry.’ Ena waved her hand in the air, as if to brush the thought away. ‘I care that you’re unhappy. Is it the work we do? Is it Silcott’s?’
‘No. I like my job. It’s nothing like that.’
‘If you want to talk about whatever it is that’s making you sad, I’m a good listener.’
‘Thank you, but I’m being selfish. And I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.’ Freda’s eyes filled with tears. She looked away and cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry...’ Ena took a handkerchief from her handbag, gave it to Freda, and sat in the seat next to her. Freda wiped her eyes. ‘I’m upset because I’m worried about my brother.’
Brother? Ena had worked closely with Freda for six months and this was the first time she had mentioned a brother. ‘I didn’t know you had a brother.’
‘Walter,’ Freda said, with tears in her eyes. ‘I’m scared that history will repeat itself and Walter will be killed, his body left to rot in a foreign country like Father.’ Freda took a shuddering breath. ‘Father was killed in France during the Great War. Mother never got over losing him. She shut out everything, everyone, and retreated to a place so deep in the recesses of her mind that we couldn’t get through to her. She died a couple of years later, from a broken heart.’ A faint smile played on Freda’s lips. ‘For a long time it had just been Walter and me. Walter is three years older than me and took on the role of father and mother. And for a time we muddled along happily.’
‘You must have been very lonely.’
Freda turned and gazed out of the window, as if the answer lay in the darkening countryside. ‘No, I was never lonely. I had Walter. We had each other.’
‘Thank goodness you did.’
‘Yes, thank goodness. Walter gave me the love my mother couldn’t. It’s strange, but as sad as those times were, Walter and I were very happy. But it wasn’t deemed to be correct for two children to live on their own, even though Walter was fifteen. So after mother died, the authorities took us to live with my father’s brother.’
‘In Northampton?’
Freda gazed out of the window at the Northamptonshire countryside. ‘Northampton? Yes,’ she said, absentmindedly. A big tear spilled from the corner of her eye. ‘My
