Voices on the Wind (7 page)

He took her hand and turned it over, studying the palm for a moment.

‘You have a long life-line, anyway,' he said. ‘That's something. My mother believed in it. One other thing.' He let her hand go.

‘Yes?'

‘Have a drink with me tonight. Because tomorrow, I'm going to make sure Finch gives you hell all over again.'

Kate smiled. ‘I'll meet you in the hall then. Half an hour? I'll look forward to it.'

She went out and he sighed. Then he clenched his fist and banged it down hard on the top of the desk. He had told himself he hated her before. Now that he liked her, it was even worse.

The evening drink with Michaelson became a joke among the group. At the end of a gruelling day, nursing their bumps and bruises, cursing the insufferable Finch who was obviously enjoying their humiliation, they waited for Captain Michaelson to go up to Kate and single her out.

‘He fancies you,' Fred insisted. ‘I've heard the gossip from the lads in the ranks here. He never bought a drink for anyone except some French girl, and now you. They said he was cracked on her, too.'

Kate nudged him lightly in his sore ribs and he groaned. ‘Shut up,' she said. ‘Or I'll tell Finch you want to be guinea pig tomorrow!' Then later, when they were drinking coffee in the hall after dinner, ‘What French girl?'

‘Don't listen to him,' Gerard interrupted. ‘He has a dirty little English mind. There was someone he liked; I've heard talk, but that's all.'

‘What happened to her?' Kate asked. Nobody knew. Nothing changed during the day. Michaelson encouraged Finch to drive his pupils harder every session. Kate knew what was coming, and got her share of lumps and bumps, but she was a quick pupil and she wasn't frightened. It was obvious that Judy was. Whenever possible she made an excuse not to try and exercise with Finch. Finally one day, with Michaelson in the background watching, he cornered her.

‘Now Miss,' he said, ‘we're going to have a special demonstration for the class. You're a young lady doing something naughty with a suitcase. Taking something somewhere which the Huns mustn't find, right? Right. I'm a nasty Nazi and I stop you and pull a gun. Right? Now here's the case, all ready for you. Good weight inside it. You take it, Miss, right-handed aren't you – right? Carry it in your right then.'

‘Why right?' someone called out. ‘If you were right-handed you'd carry a bag in the other hand.'

Finch grimaced, pretending to smile. ‘Now why don't you wait and see, right? There's method in my madness, ladies and gents. Always a reason. Take the case, Miss.'

Judy was very pale. She moved forward, lifted the heavy suitcase and stood awkwardly.

‘You're walking out of a railway station,' Finch announced. ‘You're clear so far. Then up comes the nasty Nazi, which is me. So start walking towards me, if you please, right? Right!' It was obvious that Judy was uneasy. Finch sprang in front of her, pulled a dummy gun out of his pocket and yelled at her in German. Judy froze. He yelled again. She swung the suitcase, but the move was hesitant. Instead of knocking the gun out of Finch's hand, he sidestepped her easily. She dropped the case and backed away from him. She shouted, ‘No, you keep off! You're not going to hurt me like that again!' It was such a shock that nobody moved or spoke. They faced each other, Judy glaring at him, the instructor grinning as if he had proved a point.

Michaelson called out, ‘Try someone else, Finch. Judy's a bit sore after last time.'

Kate waited, knowing he was going to pick her. And he did. She knocked the gun out of his hand before he'd finished shouting and heaved the case at his legs. He didn't fall because he knew the movement, but an ordinary soldier would have been disarmed and knocked off his feet, while she escaped.

There was a little burst of clapping from the class. She went back, scarlet-faced, and put her arm round Judy.

‘Kick him in the balls next time,' she whispered.

After the session Finch made his report. Michaelson listened, made notes, added his own assessment and paused before leaving.

‘You didn't let Fitzgerald catch you out, by any chance? I've known you play tricks like that to make them overconfident.'

Finch said, ‘No, Sir. She got the timing right. She's not bad, that girl. Very quick reactions and she's not scared of a rough and tumble. Whereas the other one …'

‘Yes,' Michaelson said. ‘There is a problem there. See you tomorrow. Good night.'

‘What does he talk about?' They all asked her the same question. Half an hour spent with Michaelson before dinner, sitting apart from the rest. What did he say? What did they have in common? Not shop. That was the unwritten rule among the staff. Off duty they never discussed the day's events with their pupils.

Kate shrugged. ‘Nothing special. He likes cricket.'

They all laughed. ‘Come on, Kate, don't give us that!'

The French were scathing. ‘Cricket! Only an Englishman would talk about a cricket game to a pretty girl.'

It was true, though they didn't believe her. He talked about the cricket matches played on the village green in his Hampshire home. He talked about his parents, and a younger sister who was getting married to the son of family friends. He talked endlessly about civilian life and his memories of growing up in a secure and peaceful countryside. And Kate listened. He wasn't in love with her, or emotionally involved as her friends supposed. He wanted someone he could talk to and she had shown him friendship that night in his office. He was a sadly isolated man, doing a job he hated and didn't believe was worthwhile. He took refuge from it for half an hour each night with Kate Fitzgerald for the price of two gin and tonics.

Nobody would believe that explanation, so she joked about it and let them think what they liked. Judy was on the defensive for some days after the incident with Finch. She brushed Kate's sympathy aside.

‘I don't care what they put in the report,' Judy declared. ‘I'm not going to be knocked about by that little beast. He likes it; he likes showing off at a woman's expense, especially if he thinks she's from a different class! I had it before and I'm not standing for it again!'

Kate said, ‘Oh come on, Judy, that's a bit far-fetched. He's a little bully, but you're reading too much into it. All right, you're not going to let him hurt you. That's fair enough. Tell him you're not going to work with him.'

‘And I'm not,' Judy blazed. ‘I won't have a dirty little man like that putting his hands on me.'

Afterwards Philippe said, ‘She thinks Michaelson couldn't fail her, but that's not so. He could send a very damaging report to Baker Street if he thinks she's afraid of physical pain. She must realize that.'

‘I will support her,' Gerard spoke up sharply in Judy's defence. ‘She's right. Right, right – Bah! That little pig with his gramophone record – he goes too far. It isn't necessary.'

Philippe turned away. He never argued when he had made a point. If it wasn't accepted, that was that. So nothing was said, but Finch never asked Judy to demonstrate with him again.

The last part of the course was teaching them how to kill without weapons. And Kate did not come out of it well. She was excellent at defensive work, but unable to approach an unsuspecting victim and break his neck with a trained blow. Finch shouted at her, lost his temper, knocked her flying on two occasions as a lesson not to pull back at the crucial moment, but she didn't do well.

‘You wait, Miss,' Finch threatened her. ‘You wait till they've got your best friend by the short and curlies, and you see one of 'em. You'll use what I've taught you and be glad of it!'

It was Christmas week when they ended the course at Loch Gary. Gerard opted out. He had thought very carefully and decided that he was not the right type to work underground in Europe. He didn't trust himself to withstand physical torture and for religious reasons he would not agree to take the famous L pill and commit suicide if arrested. This made him a danger to others and he had decided to return to his RAF base. He said goodbye and wished them all luck. Everyone else in Kate's group passed and there was no query about Judy. Everyone, staff, instructors and McKay and Taft, joined in the party the night before they left for a brief Christmas leave. Michaelson didn't stay long. He congratulated them in turn and she noticed he was especially nice to Judy. He said goodbye to Kate last.

‘Well done,' he said. ‘You really did well. But it doesn't alter what I told you. You will think about it, won't you?'

‘I will,' she promised. ‘Have a nice Christmas; are you going home?'

‘Yes,' he answered. ‘Thank God. Are you?'

She nodded, happy at the prospect. ‘I can't wait,' she said. ‘I must remember not to swear when I get home. My family'd have a fit if they heard me.'

He smiled too, the wintry smile that had no joy in it. ‘I'll see you in Hampshire,' he said. But it was over forty years before they met again.

‘I remember my Christmas leave,' Katharine said. It was darkening outside, the sun had set and there was a faint chill in the garden that sent them indoors. Paul Roulier poured them both a drink. The terrier jumped on her knee and made itself comfortable. It watched the Frenchman with bright, inquisitive eyes, and then went to sleep.

‘It was a lovely leave,' she went on. ‘I told my father and mother a pack of lies about my job as a translator. Funnily enough I felt my brother didn't quite believe it. He looked at me in an odd way and I was terrified he'd say something when we were alone. But he didn't and I never knew if he suspected the truth because he was killed in Normandy. Only twenty-three. What a bloody waste.' She lit a cigarette. ‘Anyway we had a marvellous Christmas and I talked French non-stop, which made Maman very happy. And then I packed up and went to Hampshire. Beaulieu – you wouldn't know it, but it's a beautiful place in the heart of the New Forest. We stayed at a very grand manor house, and that was the second stage in the training. It was very varied, and much more technical than Loch Gary. They taught us simple coding and wireless transmission, how to leave messages – Don't they call it dead-letter boxes now? – German aircraft recognition, and a sight recognition of all the German ranks and uniforms. I remember I found that bit very confusing, but I liked using the radio. They said I had a flair for transmitting.'

‘You didn't find it exciting?' Roulier questioned.

She said, ‘No, more interesting than exciting. I had to exercise my soft little brain instead of my body. But we had a devil of a PT instructor who made us work out for an hour a day, to keep our fitness up. What was nice about it was Judy being there, and Fred. Fred made us all laugh and drove the technical instructors up the wall. I said to him one night when we were playing cards after dinner, “How the hell do you know so much about blowing open doors and picking locks?” I'll never forget the way he said it. Solemn as a judge. “It's my living, Katie. I'm a burglar in civilian life.”

‘And he was. We were a nice group, but Judy and Fred and I stuck together. I never saw any of the others afterwards so I won't bother you with them. They were all decent types, several girls this time. Couriers, wireless operators, a couple of real French tarts dressed up in uniform. We had fun guessing what they were going to do when they got there.'

‘So you passed out of the course, all three of you? What about Philippe? Did you see him again?'

‘Oh yes,' Katharine said. ‘I did indeed. I'll tell you about the final assessment. I was so thrilled at getting through I didn't think about it at the time, but afterwards, going over it in my mind, there was something wrong from start to finish.'

She was surprised to see Captain Alfurd among the panel of officers. Each candidate came in alone and was asked a set of questions, followed by a brief conversation in their special language. The senior officer was a brigadier, a most un-soldierly type, with thick glasses and a donnish way of speaking. He praised her work at Loch Gary and at Beaulieu. She had impressed her instructors and the conducting officer with her determination and courage. It had been decided to pair her with an experienced woman agent.

Kate said, ‘Is it Judy, Sir?'

The Brigadier smiled. ‘You're not supposed to ask, but you're quite right. She will complement you. A little tougher and bolder, but then she is older and has been overseas before. You'll make a good team.'

‘Thank you, Sir,' Kate answered.

Robert Alfurd nodded at her, smiling encouragement. She felt elated and proud. She had done well; they said so. Determined and brave. Who would have imagined that the over-eager girl who maddened Michaelson at first sight should end up with a report from him like that. Philippe had been wrong about Judy. There was no mark against her because she was frightened of unarmed combat. A little tougher and bolder! Well done, Judy. She saluted, shook hands with everyone, and felt a warm squeeze from the young Captain. Outside the door she found Philippe waiting.

‘You passed? Of course. Congratulations.' He put his arms round her and kissed her cheek. The hold was a little too tight and the kiss lasted too long. She broke away.

‘Where's Judy? She's going too.'

‘Well, that's wonderful,' he said. ‘She will be pleased.'

‘What about you?' Kate asked him. ‘Are you next?'

He shook his head. ‘No. I am already chosen. I was waiting for you. It's a pity we're not allowed out. I could have taken you to dinner to celebrate.'

‘What a pity,' Kate agreed. I wouldn't have gone, she thought, wondering what it was about him that disturbed her. She didn't like that kiss and the firm hold on her body.

‘I have a lot of things to do,' she excused herself. ‘Packing and tidying up. We're going straight on tomorrow for our final briefing and embarkation. I was hoping to see my family before I went.'