In Farleigh Field: A Novel of World War II

Pamela’s eyes were shining. “Oh yes. Brilliant.”

“I should copy them all down and take them back with me. Some of the names and addresses will be genuine, to put us off the scent. But every one that follows the Wagner will contain information. Someone higher up than me will be able to figure out what and whom they might refer to. Have the Wagner passages become more frequent lately?”

“We’ve only been listening recently rather than reading transcripts, so they could have been going on for some time.”

“And do you happen to know if the number 1461 has shown up anywhere?”

“Not that I can remember . . .” She frowned. “It could have been in the middle of a longer serial number.”

“Don’t worry. I can check,” Ben said.

“Take a seat.” She went across to a desk and brought out a pad and fountain pen. “I’ll help you copy them.”

They sat side by side in companionable silence.

“Are you going to Jeremy’s party?” she asked at last.

“Yes, I said I’d go.”

“Should be fun.”

“I hope so. I’m bringing a girl.”

“A girl?” She looked up abruptly.

Ben nodded. “I’m not sure that was wise, but Jeremy sort of invited her himself, and she was so keen that I couldn’t back out.”

“Is she nice?”

“I hardly know her. She may turn out to be a little too . . . enthusiastic . . . for me.”

Pamela laughed. “Meaning that she’s too keen on the physical contact?”

Ben blushed. “I actually meant that she may gush. She’s terribly impressed that some of the guests come from titled families. And she was obviously impressed by Jeremy.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be?” Pamela laughed. Then she grew quiet again. “Do you find him changed, Ben? Since he came back?”

“I’ve hardly spoken to him enough to know, but he seems, how shall I put it—harder, more seasoned. I wonder if the fun has gone.”

Pamela nodded. “I suppose he’s grown up a lot, gone from boy to man in the time he was away. And all the horrid things he went through in the prison camp, and then to escape. It’s no wonder he’s not as fun-loving as he once was.”

They finished copying the names and addresses that followed the Wagner interludes. Ben stood up. “I should be getting back,” he said. “I want to be home before it’s dark. It’s not easy getting around in London once the blackout takes effect.”

“The very least I can do is treat you to an early dinner in the dining hall,” Pamela replied. “The food isn’t bad. In contrast to my landlady’s cooking. Trixie and I think that she’s the enemy’s secret weapon, put here to poison Britain.”

They laughed as they went down the stairs. Outside, the sun was shining on the lake. People were sitting on the grass, others strolling under the trees. From the meadow beyond came the shouts of a game being played. Ben shook his head in amazement. “This place is unreal,” he said. “You certainly landed on your feet, being sent here, didn’t you? It’s like a country club.”

“Actually, we all work so jolly hard that we make the most of time off,” Pamela said. “Until recently, I was on a twelve-hour night shift. And most of us work in those huts that are draughty and freezing in winter. And the pressure is enormous. Knowing that if you don’t break a code, men on a ship are going to die. People crack all the time and get sent away for rest cures.”

“That wasn’t why you came home a couple of weeks ago, was it?” He looked at her with concern.

Pamela didn’t want to admit to him that she had fainted. “I had some leave owing to me, and when I heard that Jeremy had come back safely . . .”

“Of course.” Ben cleared his throat.

“Hey, Pamma, wait for me,” a voice shouted behind them, and Trixie came running across the gravel forecourt. “Are you going to the dining room?”

“Yes, we were.”

“Me too. I’ve decided I can’t face another of Mrs. Entwhistle’s suet puddings.” She looked up at Ben. “Hello. Are you a new arrival?”

“No, he’s from another department in London,” Pamela said quickly. “He just came to drop off some papers, and we bumped into each other. We’re old friends from home.”

“How jolly,” Trixie said. She held out her hand to Ben. “Hello. I’m Trixie. Pamela’s roommate.”

“I’m Ben. Good to meet you.”

She squeezed his hand, an inquisitive smile on her face.

“Do you work at another hush-hush establishment?” she asked.

Ben chuckled. “I couldn’t tell you if I did, could I?”

“It’s just that they don’t let just anybody come here, for any reason. So someone must have had a jolly good reason for sending you here.” Trixie turned to Pamela. “I shall worm it out of you when we get home,” she said. “Or I shall make a date with Ben and worm it out of him. You’re not going to Jeremy Prescott’s party, by any chance, are you?”

“As a matter of fact I am,” Ben said.

“And he’s taking a girl, Trixie. So hands off.”

“Spoilsport.” Trixie gave a mock pout. “I might turn on the full force of my feminine charms and lure him away from her.” She gave Ben a flirtatious smile. “Come on, before there’s a line at the cafeteria. I hear there might be cauliflower cheese tonight.” She took Ben’s hand again and dragged him forward.



On the train back to London, Ben sat staring at the names and addresses he had copied out. Some of the names were definitely also places. Some could be places. Mrs. North at 4 Hampton Street could well mean Northampton. Max Knight should be able to find out if they coincided with known meetings of the Ring. But did any of this have relevance to the photograph? If it was so important that a man’s life had been risked to deliver it, then surely the message could not have been for general consumption but for one person’s ears only. And they were no closer to finding out who that one person was. He tried to quell the sense of urgency he felt. The Royal Fireworks music and the date 1461 when battles were fought to depose a king made him believe that a plot to kill the royal family might well be imminent. But he reminded himself that he was on the lowest rung. If he was not given the full information, how could he be expected to interpret it properly? Still, he knew that the king and queen often walked through bombed areas of London, showing sympathy and support. How easy for a lone gunman, waiting for them in the shadows. He shivered and stared out the train window.