Grateful to Ben for suggesting they travelled together, Ena watched him pick up his newspaper and settle back in his seat. As he opened it, he looked across the compartment at her. She noticed fine lines; the beginnings of a smile, playing at the corners of his eyes. But instead of smiling, he frowned. ‘Are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.’
‘I felt a bit queasy but I’m fine now. Really.’ She looked out of the window.
A short while later, when the train was slowing down and Ena felt the grinding of the brakes, her stomach lurched again. ‘Is this Bletchley?’ she asked, praying it was.
Ben looked over the top of his paper. ‘I thought you’d been to Bletchley before?’
‘I have. From the north, not the south.’
‘This is Willesden,’ he said, ‘We’ve got another half-dozen stations to go through before we get to Bletchley. Would you like part of my newspaper?’ Without waiting for Ena to reply, Ben removed the centre pages. ‘This will help you pass the hour.’
‘Hour!’
‘Almost,’ he said.
Ena took the paper, opened it and began to read, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was too worried about what she was going to say to Mr Silcott and Commander Dalton when they asked how the suitcase containing her work had been stolen. She’d tell them the truth of course – but what was the truth? She couldn’t think. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton wool. She felt woozy and confused, so angry that she couldn’t remember what had happened to her. She wanted to scream. Tears of frustration threatened and she looked out of the window.
‘Cigarette?’ Ben asked.
‘No thank you,’ she said. Just the thought of smoking made her want to retch.
‘Mind if I do?’
‘Not at all.’ She watched Ben take a cigarette from a pack of Chesterfields and put it in his mouth. He held it between his lips and flicked the small wheel on the side of his lighter. She caught the faint scent of petrol as the blue flame appeared. Lighting the cigarette, Ben pulled deeply before exhaling a long stream of smoke.
How am I going to lose him when we get to Bletchley? Ena thought. She felt a fluttering of excitement in her stomach. If it had been at any other time, in any other place, she would happily have gone with Ben to wherever it was he was going. Timbuktu, if he’d asked. But today she needed to go in any direction that was opposite to his.
‘This is it,’ Ben said, as the trained pulled into Bletchley station.
Ena handed him the section of his newspaper that she had failed to read. As the train pitched to a halt, Ben folded it and put it in his pocket. Ena stood up and put on her gloves and scarf. They had gathered other passengers along the way and, having sat next to the window, were last to leave the compartment. ‘Will you be visiting your friend in Bletchley again?’ Ben asked.
‘I would like to,’ Ena said, butterflies flying round in her stomach again. ‘I don’t know when, and it depends on a few things.’ Whether I’m sacked after today, but she didn’t say that. ‘I will if I can.’
‘Okay,’ Ben beamed. ‘I work shifts and don’t get much time off, but if you could write and tell me when you’re coming down?’ Smiling happily, Ena nodded. He tore a piece of paper from a small notebook and scribbled down his address. ‘If you give me some warning – say three days – I can get one of the guys to swap shifts with me, and I can take you to tea, or lunch, depending when you’re here.’
‘I should like that.’
‘Okay then!’ Ben’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s a date.’
‘I suppose it is.’ Holding Ena’s arm, Ben helped her down from the train. On the platform, Ena looked up. They were standing so close to each other she could feel Ben’s breath on her cheek. She thought he was going to kiss her. She wouldn’t have minded if he had. She wanted to kiss him, and felt sure he wanted to kiss her. They did a little dance around each other, laughed, and shook hands. She watched him walk away. At the exit, he turned and waved. A second later he was gone.
She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand. Benjamin F. Johnson, c/o The Ministry of Defence, Whitehall, London. She read the address again. He works in London, but he must come to Bletchley often, Ena thought, because he’d said he would take her to lunch, or tea, the next time she was here.
She put Ben’s address in her handbag and looked around the station. She needed to waste a few minutes. Although Ben had left the station, he might be waiting outside for a taxi or a bus and she daren’t take the chance of him seeing which way she walked when she left. A little way along the platform was a waiting room, and next to that, the Ladies’ lavatory. Ena wondered about sitting quietly in the waiting room for ten minutes. Instead she decided to go to the toilet.
Waiting in the queue, she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink. Having cried off her makeup, her face was pale with red blotches. And what was left of her mascara was streaked down her cheeks. She looked a fright and needed to wash her face and repair her makeup before she went to the Park.
Taking a step towards the basins, Ena took Ben’s handkerchief from her handbag and gently rubbed at her face. When she had finished,
