He returned as I was shutting my first file and reaching for the second. “Nothing interesting?”
“Lots, but in Egypt. 1943.” I lifted another folder toward me. It was heavier than the last, and that one had been filed with at least one hundred sheets of the thin copy paper. “We’ll never get through all this.”
“One page at a time.” Mat chuckled. “Welcome to my world. Research is worse than watching paint dry or a pot boil. You’ll soon figure out what’s important and what’s irrelevant, and it’ll go faster.”
I opened the folder and hit a name I knew on page one. “Hey . . . Dalton . . . Church—” I clamped my mouth shut, annoyed that I hadn’t schooled my excitement and examined everything first. Alone.
It wasn’t that I would hide information or lie to Mat; it was that I wanted to know whatever it was, no matter how good or bad, before he did. To me, they were family. To him, they were an article—now a career-making one.
It was too late.
Mat was out of his seat, hovering over me in an instant. “These are the memorandums that formed the SOE.”
He carefully turned one page after another before returning to the very first. I sat feeling like I did at age six when Amelia grabbed my I Can Read! book and read it to me.
18 July 1940
My Dear Prime Minister,
I will do my best to carry out the additional duties you wish me to undertake.
Yours very sincerely,
Hugh Dalton
“Look how they hand-wrote the salutations and the signatures.” Mat moved back to his chair and scooted it closer to mine. “I saw these before, but it never gets old. This is history, Caroline.”
I glanced at him. His eyes had taken on a softer sheen than the electric glow of our conversation outside. Outside, he had scared me—he reminded me of Veruca Salt from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with her “I want it now.”
I didn’t feel that way looking at this Mat. This was the Mat who brought me coffees in the library as we rushed to finish papers. This was the Mat who ate a whole box of Red Vines with me at The Avengers opening night. This was the Mat who said history was multifaceted, nuanced, and complex, and had walked me through his ideas late into the night. This was the Mat who really did smell wonderful and was, at that moment, looking straight at me from not more than six inches away.
“What?” I blinked, having completely missed his comment.
“He wrote that. Churchill. With his own hand.” Mat turned the pages, going back in time from when Dalton accepted Churchill’s commission to Churchill’s initial request.
I traced my finger over the letter’s handwritten parts. “16 July 1940 . . . Dear Dalton . . . Yours sincerely, Winston Churchill.”
Mat grabbed for my hand and held it. “You can’t do that.”
“It’s his real signature. Isn’t it amazing?”
“It’s in pencil. It won’t be amazing for long if everyone rubs their greasy fingers over it.”
I suppressed a smile. “I washed my hands and I bet we’re the only people to request these files in years.”
“That’s not the point.” A ghost of a smile lingered on Mat’s lips as he studied the signatures. I was sure he wanted to run his finger over them.
“Quick swipe?” I shoulder bumped him.
Without moving his chair away, he shifted his attention back to his own file. “Turn the page, Payne, and keep reading.”
Minutes later, he pulled at my arm. “Interesting as that is, it’s a little early for Caro. Shift over here.” He tapped the folder in front of him. “This is the file in which I found the note and meeting references about your aunt. In light of the letters, read it together?”
I nodded and we began . . .
MOST SECRET PRIVATE MEETING NOTES
6 August 1940
Hugh Dalton
I met with Caroline Waite at 1900 hours today. Major Selwyn Jepson joined as Miss Waite, serving in the ATS, laid out her abilities and connections within Paris and offered her assistance on fact-finding missions. We outlined the impossibility of her proposal. I added that I was a longtime friend of her father and he would not appreciate her involvement or my endorsement of such activities. My answer displeased her and I suspect we have not heard the last from her.
Major Jepson, concerned with her social and political importance, believes she cannot play any role in our operations. She knows more than most due to family and personal connections, and that alone makes her a strategic risk.
I will reach out to Miss Waite’s commanding officer at the ATS to garner increased assignments to fill her time and energies.
MOST SECRET PRIVATE MEETING NOTES
10 September 1940
Memorandum of a meeting between Miss Caroline Waite and Assistant Information Officer Sir Frank Nelson.
Miss Caroline Waite, who returned from Paris on 17 May and is currently serving in the ATS, had a preliminary conference with Dalton and Jepson on the evening of 6 August. She told them how pleased she was to have an opportunity to consult with them and proposed herself as an intermediary to increase communication between France and England, which is slender at present.
In today’s meeting with Frank Nelson, Miss Waite noted that German propaganda in Paris throughout the past year has harmed the French impression of British care and involvement. Miss Waite again proposed using her person and contacts to acquire and disseminate information into Paris via her work in fashion and her position within Parisian social circles.
Nelson, after listening with extreme interest to Miss Waite’s exposition, expressed his agreement in general with what she said. He added, however, that her position in society and potential loss (of life) could cause extreme backlash to reconnaissance and information gathering efforts as ministerial opinion was presently wary of this new warfare tactic.
Miss Waite conceded his point but remained unconvinced that the cost outweighed the benefit of her involvement.
She then stated that she had found her own way back to Paris and had remained there from 27 August to 6 September. She outlined the location of German offices, troop numbers, new laws and restrictions instituted, and the general tone of French morale.
Nelson ended the meeting by asking Miss Waite to take no further action until he contacted her. He will meet with Dalton to discuss next steps. Nelson suspects Miss Waite’s interests will not wane and that her private travels could put both her and British interests in jeopardy.
“Remember her letter to Margaret? About two weeks after this?” I pulled up my phone and scanned through the countless letters I’d photographed until I found the one I needed.