Ena was thinking how strange it was that the man didn’t know what a pear drop tasted like when she heard the train’s brakes hiss and engage. The train was pulling into Northampton station. She looked along the platform. People were standing two deep waiting to board. A group of soldiers were smoking cigarettes. After throwing the stubs to the ground, and stamping them out, they hauled their kit bags onto their shoulders and filed onto the train.
The door opened and Ena turned to see two men in black-belted mackintoshes and black trilbies enter. They looked so alike they could have been brothers. On closer inspection, the shorter of the men had a round face, the taller man’s face was angular. They both had dark hair and blue eyes. She wondered if they might be Irish.
‘Magazine, Ena?’ Freda asked, forcing a Woman’s Own into Ena’s hands and frowning.
‘What? Oh, thank you,’ Ena said, realising that she had been staring at the two men. Opening the magazine, she glanced down at the case but then decided she shouldn’t attract attention to herself. She lifted her head and turned a page of the magazine. Pretending to read, she sat back in her seat and mouthed, Sorry.
‘Tickets please!’
Most people had their tickets ready. Ena didn’t have one. Mr Silcott had given Freda both tickets, which she handed over. The ticket inspector ripped the tickets in half, put the Rugby to Bletchley section in a leather shoulder bag, and gave Freda the return stubs.
‘I’m going to wash my hands, Freda,’ Ena whispered, and carefully stepping round the feet of the other passengers, she left the compartment. Walking along the corridor, more to stretch her legs than anything, she saw the door to the toilet. The oblong panel by the handle said “vacant” and she entered. She didn’t need to go to the toilet, but she went anyway. Better to go now than have to ask where the Ladies was when she got to--
She felt sick. She always did when she travelled, but this was different. Today, just thinking about where she was going made her tummy reel. She slid back the small window above the sink and inhaled. The acrid smell of soot and smoke filled her nostrils, stinging the back of her throat. She exhaled, then held her breath as the cold air rushed over her face.
Feeling somewhat better, Ena washed and dried her hands, refreshed her lipstick and combed the wave at the front of her hair back into place. She leant into the small mirror. She looked pale. ‘Lack of sleep,’ she said to herself then took a deep breath to settle her tummy. She didn’t think she would be physically sick. Today she felt more nervous than anything. She had wanted to go to the top-secret place – where her work ended up – for months. Now she was almost there, she would give anything not to be going.
On the way back to the compartment, she felt the train judder and slow down. As she opened the compartment door, Freda was talking to the man next to her. She was telling him their cover story. ‘We’re going to visit a friend who we,’ she motioned with her hand to Ena, ‘used to work with. She married a chap from Bletchley and moved there. She’s expecting, anytime now.’ She looked at Ena, raised her eyebrows and nodded.
Oh heck! She wants me to carry on with the story. ‘Yes, we’re having twins.’ The man laughed and Ena corrected, ‘Not us. We’re not having--’ She looked at Freda.
‘Now you’re back, I’ll go and wash my hands,’ Freda said. Rolling her eyes as she passed Ena, she left the compartment.
Feeling she’d let Freda down, Ena absentmindedly took a pear drop from the packet. She glanced at the man. He was staring at her. ‘Would you like another?’ He shook his head. ‘I get travel sick, you see,’ she said, putting a sweet in her mouth.
Freda returned as the train pulled into Bletchley station. It came to a juddering halt, catching her off balance. She lurched to the right as the man who had been sitting next to her was getting up. He put his arms out and Freda fell into them. ‘Thank you,’ Freda whispered, looking dreamily into the man’s eyes. ‘I’m not used to travelling by train.’
What a fib, Ena thought. Freda took the train to Northampton and back every time she visited her uncle for the weekend, which was at least once a month. Embarrassed by her friend’s blatant flirting, Ena jumped up and busied herself by putting on her gloves. Hauling her gasmask onto her shoulder, she picked up her handbag. Perhaps Freda isn’t having an affair with Mr Silcott after all, she thought, grabbing the handle of the suitcase. Perhaps she only flirts with him the way she’s flirting with this man. Pondering her workmate’s dalliances, Ena heard Freda call her. When she turned round the man had gone.
As they left the station, they were met by a powerfully built man in a dark blue coat and cap. ‘Commander Dalton asked me to pick you up, Miss King,’ he said to Freda. He looked at Ena. ‘I’ll take that, miss,’ he said, standing almost to attention.
Freda nodded and Ena reluctantly handed over the case of work. ‘Don’t look so worried. Your work will be safe with Commander Dalton’s driver.’
Ena smiled at the man. He didn’t return the pleasantry.
The car was typical of the kind used by high ranking military officers. It was big and black, the kind she’d seen her brother Tom driving when he’d called at Foxden after taking army
