Page 40 of The Island Girls

Peggy had thought, in the few moments she had taken to consider what could be so important that she might be expected to sign the Official Secrets Act, that she was going to be asked to become a regular driver for the VIP political leaders visiting Poole Harbour. Or perhaps she was even being asked to become an air stewardess and fly with them – an idea that thrilled her to the core. That she might be asked to take part in what was essentially a spy role would never have occurred to her. Didn’t they already have agents for that? What could she do that was so important to the country? She had asked these and many other questions in the moments after Fletcher had explained the problem to her.

And now, early on the day after the most awful bombing raid Poole had suffered so far, she was about to find out more detail. As she’d arrived for work that morning, Patricia had told her there was a new plan for the day. She was to go home, change out of her uniform and go directly to the train station where she would catch the eight o’clock train to Waterloo Station in London. She was to walk from Westminster to an address in Whitehall, where she would meet with Mr Fletcher.

The look on her face must have told Pat that Peggy had a thousand questions, but Patricia just held up her hand.

‘Peggy, I know it’s all strange. But the instructions have come from the highest level of government. You just have to do as you’re asked.’

Peggy was grateful that her family were all still in bed when she went home, and nobody noticed her changing into her best dress, hat, and coat, and heading out again. On the train, she’d thought of little except Darrell and how this new role might come between them.

Once the train neared central London, Peggy had been horrified to witness the damage to the buildings around her, the sandbags, the gaping holes where homes had once stood. There were fire trucks attending to fires that still burned from raids the night before, and yet, amongst it all, women still walked out with their prams to fetch food for the day, children played in the streets, there was a semblance of normal life.

Once she reached the address in Whitehall, just a short walk from the Houses of Parliament, she was ushered down a series of corridors before she came face to face with Fletcher again. He reminded her of the serious nature of the mission she was being tasked with and updated her on the events of the night before.

‘As I explained, Miss Symonds, we believe that Charlie Edwards is not who he says he is. We now think that he may be a German spy, and that he sent information to the German forces yesterday about the whereabouts of the VIPs you were involved in transporting. The air raid last night could have been meant to wipe them out, all three. Thankfully, the decoy on Brownsea Island worked a treat. The village of Maryland is probably smashed to smithereens this morning, but the Harbour Heights Hotel still stands, and our leaders live on. And today, they will fly to a secret destination for diplomatic discussions with other countries, just as they planned to do.’

Peggy was astounded at the local knowledge Fletcher had and wondered how much time he had spent in Poole before she met him. Had someone been watching her as well?

‘Goodness gracious! But what exactly am I to do?’ Peggy asked, bemused by the whole situation. ‘I’m just a launch operator; I’m not a trained spy. How can I help?’

‘Today, you will receive some basic training, and we have one or two helpful articles to give you that all our operatives carry. Essentially, though, we want you to carry on doing exactly what you do with Charlie by your side, but we need you to listen. To get closer to him. To get as close to him as you possibly can, Peggy,’ said Fletcher with great meaning in his eyes and tone. ‘Become so close that he thinks you’re his girl, if necessary.’

Peggy’s mind and heart reeled as she realised the full extent of what Fletcher was asking her to do. She was being asked to put Darrell completely aside, and strive for a relationship with Charlie so deep that he would confide all his secrets to her. The idea churned her stomach and she felt her heartbeat quicken irregularly as panic at losing Darrell almost overcame her.

‘I can see that this is asking an awful lot of you, my dear, but you must remember how much is at stake. Find out anything you can about this “Charlie” and tell us everything you learn. You’ll be shown today how to write telegrams to us in code that we will understand and that will seem quite ordinary to others. And remember, we don’t know yet that heisa spy, and there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the discrepancies in stories. Last night’s raid could have been pure coincidence. But the more information we have on him, the better.’

By the end of the day, Peggy had been shown some basic self-defence techniques, was issued with a small pistol and taught how to use it, and learnt an elementary code system for her telegram missives back to Whitehall, and a phone number and code to use for emergency calls. Fletcher had explained to herthat once her mission with Charlie concluded – whatever that looked like – she might be asked to take some more thorough training and continue in the same line of work if she wished.

On the train home that evening, Peggy’s mind swam with new information and ideas – things that had never occurred to her before in her predictable life in Poole, on the shores of the harbour. She was still utterly determined that this new line of work would not cause any tension between her and Darrell, but was beginning to wonder quite how she would manage that. As the beautiful English countryside sped past the carriage window, she remembered the devastating destruction she had seen in and around London. The whole population were, every one of them, living on the edge, nobody knowing if a bomb with their name on it could fall at any time.

And now she was putting herself directly into the path of danger. Much more danger. Keeping an eye on Charlie was one thing, but looking for a German spy who might be lurking, waiting to kill in cold blood the very leaders they all depended on – that was something else altogether. A mind like that would not hold back from eliminating her, in any way necessary. And what if the worst happened to her, and she never had chance to let Darrell know how she felt about him? He was bound to start doubting her once she spent more time with Charlie, and she had to let him know, even if she died, that she loved him.

Peggy pulled out the notepaper she’d been given in Whitehall earlier that day, and began a letter to Darrell. She would ask Rose to keep it filed away somewhere safe, just in case she lost her life to this mission. She searched her heart for the words to write, and began.

My dearest Darrell,

If you are reading this letter, then I am so terribly sorry for your loss…

When she arrived home, she had been expecting to have to explain her day but found, strangely, that everyone seemed to know where she’d been – although everyone believed a lie. Her family had been told by Rose Stevens that she’d been to Southampton for the day for some urgent training on the Solent regarding BOAC work. The next morning, she learnt that Rose had been told this by Patricia, who had also advised Nora and Eileen the same thing. The intricacies of the lies that she was already involved in amazed and horrified Peggy in equal amounts, and she longed for the simplicity of her life a few days earlier.

The presence of the pistol that she carried in her small kitbag seemed to make it much heavier than it really was, and Peggy imagined everyone would be able to sense it even if they never saw it.

Patricia gave her the rundown for the day’s jobs, as if nothing in the world was different.

‘Now, Peggy, Charlie will be waiting to meet you at the launch, and you’ll be picking up some passengers at Salterns Marina and taking them out to the Clare this morning.’

Peggy stepped out into the spring March air. It was beginning to feel quite a bit less chilled even at this early and dark hour of the morning. April was only days away now, and though the days were growing slightly longer, the mornings were still terribly dark owing to the war-time one hour advance that was in place the year-round to increase productivity. But in a few weeks’ time, on May the 4th, the clocks would spring forward another hour for British summertime. Then the evenings would be wonderfully long, and the blackout would hardly be a problem at all.

Peggy marvelled at her ability to be distracted by such things, considering the enormity of what had transpired over the lasttwo days. She was practically a spy now, and sworn to secrecy her whole life through.

Peggy still couldn’t imagine there was anything untoward about Charlie. He seemed such a nice chap, happy and helpful, and kind. He was a gentleman. But Peggy also knew the woman who had reported on Charlie, and trusted her as well. No, she realised. She really didn’t know any of these people at all well and they could be anything other than what she believed them to be. One thing was sure though – Charlie definitely had a history of working on boats. Of that she was certain. His skills spoke for him in that regard. As she approached the Custom House steps where the launch was tied up, she saw Charlie ahead of her. He had already collected the key and was working with Nora to get the launch ready.

Once on the launch, and carrying out her normal duties, Peggy had the strangest feeling. Nothing had changed, in essence. This was the same launch, and the same crew she’d been working with for a couple of weeks – Nora for much longer, of course – and they were taking the same route she’d taken dozens, or even hundreds of times before. Yes, she had been in the presence of Churchill just two days ago, and he could have been dead by now, and that was a little jarring to the nervous system. But it was more than that. It was the sense that she was changed now, that everything about the way she would behave from this point on was tainted by this new role. She watched Charlie without watching him. She listened to him without looking as though she was listening. She saw him as another creature entirely. And she wondered if that was really fair.

What if his story was true, and this was all just a mistake? Would she be able to go back and see him the same way again? But then again, what was his story, really? Did she even know?

They pulled into the jetty at Salterns Marina, collected the small party of passengers, delivered them to the waiting flyingboat and towed it out to the start of the number-one runway. Everything went like clockwork, just as it always did. And nothing was said that could possibly give away where these passengers were headed – even Peggy had no idea of their destination, and she heard that neither did the stewardess. The details were being kept secret from even the pilot until he was in the air. But Peggy still watched Charlie like a hawk and started to plan how she might get closer to him to learn more about him.

Peggy remembered the way Charlie had complimented her, and made her feel as though he would have liked to have had a chance with her if she hadn’t already met Darrell.

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