London Spies: Phyllis Bowden Book 1 Page 5

  “Got it!” a cheery voice responded.

  As music filled the air, the girls in the dining room kicked off their shoes to dance a fast jitterbug. Amidst laughter and high stepping, a more ominous sound began to drown out the music. Recognizing it at once, the women froze where they stood for a split second before frenzied activity burst out.

  “Duck!” Lorraine yelled.

  As the telltale droning sound died, the more terrifying silence made everyone cringe. Too late for a shelter somewhere, everyone, including Mrs. Stewart, crouched under tables, behind sofas. Someone sped off to the bathroom just as the buzz bomb exploded somewhere outside the dining room window. The force of the blast blew the blackout shade to the ceiling with shards of glass and remnants of the destroyed window raining down on them all.

  It might have been only a few minutes. It might have been hours. When time stands still, there’s no clock handy and it couldn’t tell you anything anyway.

  It had been a very close call. Phyllis’ ears rang as she continued to crouch in a corner of the kitchen holding her hands over her ears. It was a while before anyone stirred. Finally, Lorraine stood up.

  “Everyone okay?” She glanced around. “I miss the All Clear signals they used to do.”

  Norma, closest to the window, moved out from under the shredded blackout shade. She and Mildred shifted cautiously, brushing debris from their clothes and hair. Mrs. Stewart looked shell-shocked, so Lorraine led her back to her flat.

  “I’m okay,” called out Doris, who had made it the bathroom just before the blast hit.

  Phyllis looked down at the squished sausages on the floor. “Everyone still want sausage in their soup?” Half-hearted chuckles met her little joke and the women moved into the kitchen. “Let’s get cleanup organized and I’ll finish cooking.”

  For the next few hours, the women combined forces to renew a semblance of normalcy in the house. New sounds filled the air with chattering voices, a vacuum cleaner running, mops dragging across floors and rags wiping every surface available. The house was soon cleaner after the bomb blast than before it. A hastily assembled tarpaulin now hung in the dining room. Chattering turned to chuckles and, although shaken, the women were ready to assume life again. But in the back of everyone’s mind was the fact that another bomb could be behind the first. Although Phyllis and her roommates talked, they were listening too.

  Dinner was strained, but still happy. They were alive and that’s all that mattered.

  TEN

  The trip to Ipswich that weekend was fun-filled. Phyllis and her roommates had had to switch trains twice, but it was worth it to watch the train chug slowly out of London, away from their worries for a little while. They knew many of the boys in the 474th squadron at the P51 fighter base, almost three hours north of London in the English countryside. Chugging through the pastoral setting, Phyllis was surprised to see cattle roaming the landscape and mile after mile of farmland. No pollution from city traffic, but the rumbling of the fighter planes from the nearby base may have been sound pollution for farmers in the area. She knew they didn’t have the incessant bombing that London still endured, but war was war. Its effects came in different forms.

  A wing of the base hospital had been opened for the girls to use for the weekend. At first it seemed strange to be assembling a makeshift bedroom out of tray tables and hospital beds, but the atmosphere was uplifting, and the dance that night made all inconveniences seem trivial.

  The boys had gotten several of their own to play for the dance and soon the tunes of Cole Porter, Ira Gershwin, Frank Sinatra and the Andrews Sisters enticed everyone to ‘cut a rug’. After too much gin and hours of swing, jitterbugging and slow dancing with very willing soldiers, Phyllis and Lorraine eventually collapsed in their hospital beds with sore feet and beaming smiles.

  “What time is it?”

  “Who cares, Phyl?”

  “I want to kid our roommates when they fall in bed for staying out so late.”

  “It must be around two a.m.”

  “Thought so.” Phyllis peeled off her soggy blouse and threw it on a chair. “For this I bought new glad rags.”

  “Don’t be a wet blanket. I had a blast.”

  “Me too. Did you hear what Sparky and Dave told everyone we would be doing tomorrow?”

  Lorraine unbuttoned her skirt. “I shudder to ask.”

  “A picnic in the countryside.”

  “Guess they’re not working tomorrow,” she shrugged.

  “Turn off the light, will you? I can’t move from this bed.”

  An hour later, Phyllis was awakened when the rest of their group finally made it to bed. Before her eyes closed, she saw an older man stoking the fire in their room and she would wake to see him again that night. What a generous thing to do. Her mind was slipping into unconsciousness when her final thought was about the bravery and generosity of the English people. And everyone else in the world who had suffered enough.

  On the train home, she was dozing when she overheard Doris and Mildred gossiping in the seat in front of her.

  “So then Beverly told Palmer who told me that there just weren’t enough girls to keep up with all the boys from the base.”

  “Didn’t you tell her that we’ve had the boys over to the house probably three times in the last three months? Mrs. Stewart about tore her hair out…”

  “Yes, we mentioned that, but when all the trouble started at the Embassy…”

  “What trouble?”

  “Oh, you know. That lieutenant colonel what’s-his-name was arrested for something…”

  “Sure, but that didn’t damper any of our fun.”

  Mildred’s voice lowered. “Yes, it has. Didn’t you hear?”

  “Hear what?” asked Doris in an equally low tone.

  “Palmer told Bev who told me that his secretary overdosed on sleeping pills.”

  “What?”

  Phyllis bolted upright.

  “That’s right and I’m surprised Phyllis and Lorraine were even allowed to come with us this weekend. Why, it’s…”

  “What happened, Mildred?” Phyllis leaned over the seat in front of her, practically in Mildred’s face.

  She shrank back. “I thought you knew.”

  “Tell me everything you know…right now.”

  “Well, someone told me on the train coming out here and…”

  “Who?”

  Mildred looked confused. “I’m not sure exactly, we were talking about a lot of things with several people on the train.”

  “Wait a minute,” Phyllis said impatiently. She dashed around to the row in front of her and bumped Doris out of her seat. “Sorry, I need this.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Once Phyllis was in the seat next to Mildred, she waved a hand. “Go on, continue.”

  “It’s like I said—some secretary overdosed on sleeping pills.”

  “What secretary?”

  “Um…I’m not sure. The man who was arrested…”

  “Lt. Col. Ronald Lawrence.”

  “Okay, I guess that’s the one.”

  “Was it his secretary?”

  Mildred looked sheepishly at Phyllis, then at Doris who was standing in the aisle. “I think so. Someone told me she took too many pills.”

  “Was it a suicide attempt?”

  Mildred shook her head. “Honestly, Phyl, I just don’t know anything else. I thought you knew, so I haven’t mentioned it before. Did you know her?”

  Phyllis inhaled a ragged breath. “Yes, I knew her. I know her. She works at the Embassy. How could I not know her?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Phyllis rose and wandered back three rows to where Lorraine was dozing. She motioned for the girl next to her to leave and sat down next to her. She shook Lorraine’s arm.

  “Lorraine.”

  “Mmm….”

  “Lorraine!”

  Her eyes blinked open. “What? I’ve had six hours of sleep in three days. What’s so important?” She blinked drowsy eyes at Phyllis.

  “Amy Broadbent tried to commit suicide. Did you know that?”

  “What?” She rubbed her eyes. “What, Phyllis?”

  “Amy tried to kill herself.”

  “What? Who told you that?”

  “I overheard Mildred and Doris speaking. They heard it from someone on the train on the way to Ipswich. Why, we’ve been drinking and dancing while all the time…”

  “No,” Lorraine put a hand in front of her. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for something we had no control over.”

  Phyllis leaned back in her seat and shook her head briskly. “I don’t understand. Why would she do it?”

  “First off,” Lorraine began, “you don’t really know what’s happened. You know how Mildred gets things wrong. Maybe what she heard was wrong.”

  “And maybe what she heard was right.”

  “I’m sorry it happened, but what difference does it make?”

  Good question. Phyllis hadn’t told her friend about Amy’s solemn request—to find out what was really going on at the Embassy. No one knew any more than when Lawrence had been arrested several days ago.

  Tears leaked out her eyes. With tears sliding down her cheeks, Phyllis wiped them away, getting angrier with each passing moment. Lorraine nudged her.

  “What are you thinking? You have a pretty mad face going on.”

  Phyllis glanced left to right, then leaned in to whisper in Lorraine’s ear.

  “You know I’m not an impulsive person, right?” Lorraine nodded. “And you know I wouldn’t do something without thinking it over.”

  Lorraine whispered back, “You think things to death.”

  “Right, so here’s what I know: Amy asked me to look into why Lt. Col. Lawrence was a
rrested for espionage. She said it was all rubbish.”

  “And you believe her?

  “Yes. I do now.”

  Lorraine’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

  “She tried to kill herself. She believes so much in Lawrence’s innocence that she begged me to help her.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said no.”

  Lorraine grabbed Phyllis’ shoulders. “Don’t go blaming yourself for what happened to Amy.”

  She stared back at her. “Who else is there to blame?”

  They exchanged a long look between them until Lorraine finally nodded. “Okay. I know there’s no changing your mind once it’s made up, so what’s next?”

  Phyllis extended her hand. “Are you in?”

  She chuckled, put her hand in Phyllis’. “Of course I’m in, you ninny. What will you do?”

  A slow smile creased Phyllis’ face. “I’m going to keep my eyes and ears wide open. If I hear anything, I’m going to the military police.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Stay tuned. I’m taking a scary step into the unknown this week.”

  “Be careful.”

  What was she getting herself into?

  ELEVEN

  Phyllis went to see Amy at the hospital the next day. She was asleep, so Phyllis parked on a chair next to her bed, waiting for her to awaken. Glancing around the sterile environment with white walls, beeping machines and tubes running into Amy’s pale arms did little to cheer her. Amy seemed to be breathing normally, but little color had left her face looking wan. A nurse came in to check her vital signs, smiled at Phyllis and left. As she was leaving, Amy woke sleepily.

  “Amy? It’s Phyllis.”

  Amy turned her head towards the sound of her voice. “Phyllis? You’re here?”

  “Yes, I am. Are you all right?”

  She shook her head and hid her face in the blanket. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “…I…I’m so ashamed.”

  Phyllis scooted her chair closer. “No, I’m ashamed, Amy.”

  “Why should you be ashamed?”

  “Please look at me.”

  She waited until she could see Amy’s face. Once springy curls were matted to her scalp. She reached over to clasp an ice-cold hand.

  “What?”

  “Remember what you said to me at Angel’s?”

  “You should forget I said anything. I was just babbling.”

  “No, you weren’t. You had a feeling that something’s wrong and I’m beginning to get those feelings too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah.” Phyllis squeezed the hand. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t take you seriously at the time.”

  “Phyllis—”

  “No, let me finish.”

  “I pushed aside any notion that there could be some kind of infiltration at the Embassy because I didn’t want to believe it. That means someone I know and respect may be committing acts of treason. It’s not a small notion and frankly, scares me to death.”

  Amy struggled to sit up.

  “Lie back, it’s fine. Just talk to me.”

  “Okay.” She lay back and quieted for a moment. “What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything, if it will help Mr. Lawrence.”

  Phyllis checked to see if another patient was in the room, then closed the door. Satisfied that they were alone, she still leaned closer to Amy.

  “Did you ever hear Ronnie use the word ‘salamander’?”

  “What? In the office? Somewhere in the Embassy?”

  “Yes.”

  Amy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. What does it mean besides a kind of small reptile?”

  “Do you know anyone with the initials SR?”

  Again, she shook her head. “No. Are these questions meaningful?”

  Phyllis softly sighed, disappointment flooding through her. “I think they’re meaningful to someone, I just haven’t met the right person yet.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you. Anything else?”

  “Did Ronnie ever have a visitor, a short man wearing a gabardine coat and homburg?”

  Amy raised a hand to rub her nose. The IV line in her arm crinkled making a machine start beeping. “Oh, great. Not again.”

  A nurse hurried in to straighten the line and turn off the alert. “You okay?”

  “I just moved, that’s all.”

  “Good enough.” The young nurse smiled benevolently at Phyllis before leaving.

  “You need to get out of here.”

  “I’m being shipped back to the States.”

  “Really?” Phyllis shrugged. “It’s probably for the best. They say the war’s almost over anyway. When are you leaving?”

  “As soon as I’m discharged and on military transport, if there’s room.”

  “Please keep in touch, if you can. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

  A sweet smile erased the worry lines in Amy’s face. “You believe me?”

  “I think you’re right—there is a rotten apple in the Embassy. I didn’t want to believe it, but I’m not one for denial. The next step is action.”

  “I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.”

  “Any small detail could help, Amy. You were with Ronnie so much, anything unique must stand out in your mind.”

  Amy was quiet for several minutes twisting her blanket tightly. When she turned to see Phyllis better, the machine began beeping again. Amy moved to her original position and the irritating noise stopped.

  “You asked me about some man in a homburg?”

  Phyllis straightened. “Yes, do you know who he is?”

  “He’s been in a few times, now that I think of it, over the past two years but Mr. Lawrence never introduced us. I’m not sure who he is.”

  “You never thought it odd that Ronnie didn’t introduce you to him?”

  She scrunched her downcast eyes. “I’m not sure but I think he was a holdover from the past administration. I got the feeling Ronnie didn’t introduce him because he was unimportant, pesky almost.”

  “Pesky?”

  “Yes, like an offending fly Ronnie was trying to brush away, so I didn’t think much about him.”

  “But you say he was in a few times.”

  She nodded. “I remember the homburg because it seemed out of place.” Her face suddenly brightened. “That’s one of the things I told you to watch for, isn’t it? You don’t know who he is either?”

  “No,” Phyllis’ eyes narrowed, “but I mean to find out.”

  She stood by Amy’s bed, reached for her hand. “Please let me know how you are when you get back to the States. Where’s home, by the way?”

  “Just outside of Washington, D.C. in Georgetown.”

  “Good. Take care.” Phyllis picked up her purse and took a step towards the door.

  “And Phyllis?”

  She looked back. “What, Amy?”

  “Go get ‘em.”

  They grinned at one another with sunshine flooding the space, lightening the austere atmosphere.

  “I promise.”

  TWELVE

  Major Simpson kept most of the staff working late all the next week. Buzz bombs had dropped with more frequency, but less accuracy. Several had dropped by the Embassy, one hitting the front of the apartments across the street but luckily, no one was killed. Streets sustained much of the damage creating a tense atmosphere with flaring tempers. Employees of the Embassy were on edge and wound tight. Dickie was out of the office more than he was in, keeping Phyllis hopping with several important tasks. And of course, everything needed to be done now.

  He seemed more worried than usual, but Phyllis chalked it up to being new in the job and probably overwhelmed. One night, exhausted after staying until eleven for last minute changes in some of Dickie’s have-to-be-done-now reports, Phyllis fell asleep on a couch in the staff lounge, around the corner from the Officers’ Mess. She had intended to just rest her eyes for a few minutes, but the couch was so soft and her feet were aching. After stretching out and cuddling into the comfy cushions, her eyes popped open and she hurriedly sought her watch to see what time it was. Twelve o’clock? Goodness! She’d been asleep for an hour!

  Phyllis ran back upstairs to her office wondering why the heck no one woke her up, yet happy no one had caught her napping. The maintenance staff had come and gone, and the place was quiet as a tomb. With light from a full moon reflecting through the Embassy windows, she could make her way with little difficulty. Her office light had been turned off, Dickie probably assumed she’d left, and she began putting away work for the next day. That’s when she heard Dickie’s voice in his darkened office. He was still here.