Page 5 of Summer of Fire
‘No, of course I don’t want a job. Doing my bit is looking after you lot, and it is quite job enough, thank you,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
Lizzie thought she glimpsed a look of relief cross her father’s amiable face. She wouldn’t have minded if her mother wanted to get out of the house with some kind of job, but it was comforting to know she was waiting for them at the end of each day.
Not that war jobs were dangerous. London was quite safe, so driving people around and delivering supplies would be right up Juliet’s alley.
They chatted a while longer before retiring to bed. Despite being worried about absent family members; they did their best to keep their spirits high.
As Lizzie rested her head on the pillow before drifting off to sleep, she wondered what other surprises her wartime London life had in store for her.
CHAPTER 3
One morning, after Lizzie had settled down to work on the latest pile of documents awaiting her on her desk, her boss, Mr Drake, interrupted her.
They exchanged pleasantries, and Lizzie looked at him expectantly as he hovered. ‘May I help you with something specific?’
‘Well, actually, yes. This might all seem a bit cloak and dagger, and honestly, I wouldn’t involve you if it wasn’t an absolute emergency.’
His strange statement piqued Lizzie’s curiosity. The work she’d been doing wasn’t exactly cloak and dagger. The documents and messages she translated were all of a straightforward administrative nature.
‘We’ve all been very impressed by the quality of your work and your dedication, Lizzie.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. A warm glow spread through her, and a delicate blush stole over her pale cheeks.
It was nice to be appreciated.
Her boss lowered his voice. ‘Tell me if I’m off base, but Iget the feeling you would be willing to contribute to the war effort in a somewhat bigger way.’
Lizzie looked at him, trying to comprehend what he was hinting at. Eventually, when he didn’t fill the awkward pause, she ventured, ‘Of course, I’m willing to help however I can. What did you have in mind, exactly, sir?’
‘Jolly good. Grab your jacket and come with me. I told you there’s no need to call me sir,’ he said, flashing her a smile. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. I can’t say any more now, but he will bring you up to speed.’
Lizzie stood to retrieve her jacket and her boss held it out as she slipped it on.
The red-headed young woman in uniform, who was a dedicated driver of the War Office, sprung to attention as they exited the building. She swiftly brought a car around, and within minutes, they were navigating the thick web of morning traffic.
Lizzie wondered where they were going. Mr Drake buried his head in some papers, and she sat quietly, watching the scenes of wartime London pass by in a blur.
Being driven around was a luxury—these days she travelled mostly by bus or the Underground. Her days of cycling along the Jersey coast were over—for now, at least. Petrol rationing was fierce, and private cars were requisitioned for the war effort. Her father had a driver for work, but not for the family’s personal use, much to Juliet’s disappointment.
They passed Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, which seemed to float on the River Thames, the stone glinting in the pale sunshine. The sheer majesty of the ancient royal palace still awed Lizzie.
The car weaved through Westminster before taking a sharp turn down a narrow road and coming to a stop outside a block of flats in a quiet residential neighbourhood.
Her boss’s head jerked up. ‘Ah, here we are already.’ He beckoned Lizzie to follow him as he disappeared into a dimly lit stairwell. ‘Go carefully,’ he called over his shoulder.
She heard a doorbell ring twice, and when she reached her boss’s side, the door opened a crack to reveal a pair of dark eyes that scanned them from top-to-toe.
‘Drake, I wasn’t expecting you yet,’ said a deep, authoritative voice.
‘Yes, we’re a tad early. Can’t be helped, I’m afraid. I have another meeting nearby. I’ll have to leave you two to get on with it without me.’
The tall man in the shadows opened the door wider and stood aside to let them enter.
‘Jack, this is Ms Beaumont. She’s the sharpest translator in the office.’
Drake turned to Lizzie. ‘This is Jack King. His bark is far worse than his bite, so don’t let him fool you into believing he’s some kind of ogre. Jack will fill you in on the nature of the role I mentioned. I must go now, but I should be back in thirty minutes or so. Wait for me here and we’ll drive back to the office together.’
Jack snapped at Drake, ‘We need more than an office girl. Please tell me you’re joking.’
