Chapter 4 Cassie
Cassie
Lisbon
Lara, much to my disappointment, said there was nothing for me to do when it came to helping Senhor Alves with his visas.
‘He’s going to be stopped any day,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow, probably. We’ve just been trying to get as many done as possible before he has his access to the official departments cancelled.’
‘Do you think he will be punished?’ I asked, fighting the disappointment I felt.
‘Well, I’m not sure, but like I said, he thinks he could go to prison,’ Lara said. ‘He’s been charged with defying the regime.’
‘What regime?’ I said. ‘Salazar’s regime?’
‘Apparently so.’ Lara grimaced. ‘At the start of the war, all the Portuguese diplomats across Europe were warned by the government not to help some refugees that were considered inconvenient.’
I nodded. ‘Meaning Jewish refugees, of course.’
I’d known about that. It was a horrible policy and I was glad at least one diplomat had ignored it but his punishment seemed excessively harsh.
‘Surely he won’t go to jail?’
‘Bea thinks not. She says he’ll probably just be forced to retire in shame.’
‘He should be proclaimed a hero,’ I said. ‘They should build statues of him.’
‘I know,’ said Lara. ‘It’s a rotten business. He’s a really nice man.’
‘How does Bea know him?’
‘She knows everyone,’ Lara said, with a little chuckle. ‘I think she knew him when she lived in Paris for a while.’
‘So there’s really nothing I can do to help?’ I said. ‘I’m feeling so useless.’
Lara squeezed my hand sympathetically. ‘It’s not much longer before Digby has to put you back in Section D.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said. ‘And I guess I can help with the refugees at Rossio in the meantime.’
‘Definitely,’ said Lara. ‘Bea wants to give them books, like your friend in London is doing for the soldiers.’
‘Great idea.’ I felt slightly more cheery at the thought. ‘I’ll help with that.’
My cheerful mood didn’t last though. Misery descended as soon as I was back in clerical, though I’d volunteered for filing now just because I couldn’t bear the other women wincing every time I poked at a typewriter key with my forefinger.
And then, two days later, the new vice-consul arrived.
I knew he’d arrived because all the girls in the office abandoned their desks so they could hang out of the window and gawp at him.
I wasn’t sure how they had known he was on his way, but someone said something to someone else and soon all the typewriters were quiet as everyone huddled beside the windows.
Curious, I joined the throng, elbowing Penny out of the way so I could get a good view, just as the newcomer pulled up in a dark-red sports car.
With a growl of the engine, he drove up to the door of the embassy and parked it – very badly – right outside the entrance. He got out of the driver’s seat and all the typists sighed in satisfaction.
‘Handsome,’ said Penny approvingly.
I peered down at the man who was bounding up the steps.
He was younger than I’d thought he’d be – in his late thirties or early forties perhaps?
Not very much older than I was. He was wearing a well-cut suit, his hair was slicked back and he had a trim moustache.
As I looked, he glanced up and smiled and the typists all giggled. I rolled my eyes.
Obviously, the office was full of chatter about the new vice-consul’s arrival.
It was unbearable. I hated not knowing anything about him, nor why he had really come to the British Embassy in Lisbon.
I sat silently with a pile of folders ready to file, while the other women speculated endlessly about what he’d be doing.
‘He might need an assistant,’ said Marge, preening. ‘Someone with good typing skills.’
‘Won’t be you then,’ joked Helen.
Marge stuck her tongue out at her and sat down at her desk.
‘He might need a translator,’ Penny said, nudging me. ‘I’ve heard he’s fluent in French and Spanish, but not so good at Portuguese.’
‘Interesting choice for a consul in Lisbon,’ I said, raising an eyebrow while inwardly I was marvelling at Penny’s talent for knowing everything.
‘I speak Portuguese,’ Marge said.
‘I know.’ Most of the women I worked with spoke passable Portuguese. We did all live in Lisbon, after all.
But I also spoke French, Spanish and German. I could fire a gun, I knew how to operate radios, read maps, use Morse code …
I just wasn’t allowed to use those skills for at least another eleven days.
‘I could work for Mr Valentine.’ Marge looked a little disgruntled.
‘You could.’ I picked up a folder and then dropped it on top of the pile again.
‘I’m just popping out,’ I said.
Penny looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Loo.’
‘Are you going to have a look at the new chap?’
‘No,’ I lied.
She snorted. ‘Come back and tell us what he’s like.’
Lord she was sharp. ‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ I said.
Penny sighed. ‘He looks like a dream.’
‘More like a nightmare,’ I muttered as I hurried along the corridor and down the stairs to where I knew the office that had been cleared for the new arrival was.
The door was firmly shut, but I could hear voices. I lingered outside for a moment, reluctant to go in. I even turned to walk away. And then I changed my mind, and before I could change it back again, I marched up to the door, knocked loudly and went straight in.
Inside the office were Digby and the new vice-consul, along with the consul – a sweet man called Bernard Bingham – and an earnest younger man who was taking notes.
Digby was sitting at a desk, Mr Bingham standing by the window, and the newcomer was lounging on a chair with his feet up on the desk where the younger man sat, notepad in front of him.
Digby did not look even the slightest bit shocked to see me.
‘Cassandra,’ he said as I went in. ‘Surprised it took you so long, if I’m honest.’
‘I just wanted to introduce myself.’
He nodded, as if there was nothing he could do to stop me, which was true. ‘Valentine, this is …’
‘Milk, one sugar,’ said Valentine, winking at me. ‘Quick as you like, sweetheart, I’m parched.’ He turned back to Digby. ‘So, it’s just me and Hughes, for now? When’s the rest of our team getting here?’
I clenched my hands into fists at my side, then I inserted myself in between Valentine and the other men and stuck my hand out for him to shake. ‘Cassandra Watkins,’ I said.
Valentine – what kind of silly name was that? – glanced from me to Digby.
‘Cassie is part of Section D,’ Digby confirmed. ‘Just not at the moment.’
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ I said, sounding to my own ears like an over-enthusiastic teacher’s pet.
Valentine looked at me for a second, appraising me. I fought the urge to smooth down my hair or straighten my skirt. Then finally he took my still-outstretched hand and shook it firmly.
‘Good to meet you, Wilkins.’
‘It’s Watkins,’ I said, making no attempt to hide my irritation.
‘Watkins.’ Valentine nodded. ‘I’m Archibald Valentine.’
‘I don’t make tea,’ I said.
‘Glad to hear it.’ Valentine grinned. ‘It was just a joke.’
‘Well, it wasn’t a very funny one.’
‘No.’ He looked slightly surprised. ‘It wasn’t.’
‘As long as we’re clear,’ I said, unsmiling. I’d worked with a lot of men. And I had learned very quickly that the best way to get them to take me seriously was to be serious.
‘Good Lord,’ Valentine said to Digby in an undertone.
‘I can hear you,’ I pointed out. ‘I’m standing right here.’
‘Before we get off on the wrong foot,’ Digby said quickly. ‘Shall we begin? Valentine, let Bingham and me show you round and we can talk as we go.’
‘Sounds good.’
Valentine, Digby and Bingham all made for the door. I followed.
‘Not now,’ said Digby, firm but apologetic.
‘Eleven days,’ I told him as he shut the door in my face.
‘What’s happening in eleven days?’
I jumped, turning to see the earnest young man, who to be quite honest, I’d entirely forgotten about.
‘Gosh,’ I said, putting my hand to my chest. ‘You surprised me.’
He nodded. ‘People always forget I’m here,’ he said. Then he grinned, showing two dimples in his cheeks. ‘It’s actually quite useful.’
I chuckled. ‘I imagine it is.’
‘I’m Henry Hughes,’ he said, offering his hand for me to shake. ‘I’m Valentine’s assistant.’
‘Cassandra Watkins,’ I said. ‘Cassie.’
‘You’re in Section D?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not at the moment?’
‘No.’
‘But you’re coming back soon?’
‘Eleven days.’
He nodded. His voice was soft and sing-song-like, but his eyes were sharp and knowing. ‘Understood.’
I felt a little uncomfortable suddenly. I didn’t like telling people about Jamie, though I supposed strictly speaking I hadn’t told Hughes anything really.
‘Are you Welsh?’ I asked even though it was obvious from his accent. I just wanted to change the subject.
‘I am.’
‘Why are you here?’ I sat down on the chair where Bingham had been sitting. ‘You and Valentine. Why are you in Lisbon?’
I saw Hughes hesitate for the briefest moment, wondering how much to tell me, and then he made his decision.
‘What do you know about MI9?’ he asked.
‘MI9?’ I was flummoxed. ‘Nothing at all.’
Hughes rolled his eyes. ‘Hardly anyone knows about us. It’s based in the Metropole Hotel in Northumberland Avenue in London. It’s understaffed, underfunded, under the thumb of MI6, and now it’s under Valentine’s control.’
‘Sounds like a poisoned chalice,’ I said.
‘Maybe.’
I leaned forward.
‘But what does it do?’ I asked. ‘What does MI9 actually do?’
Hughes stood up a bit straighter, clearly proud of his job.
‘Escapers and evaders,’ he said. ‘MI9 is responsible for getting downed airmen, lost soldiers, POWs, anyone of that ilk, back to Britain.’
‘Is that even possible?’ I asked, astonished.
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘It seems an enormous job.’
‘How do you eat an elephant?’
I looked at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘How do you eat an elephant?’ he said again. ‘One bite at a time. Big jobs seem overwhelming until you break them down into smaller tasks.’
I chuckled. ‘I see.’
‘Valentine says it when a job seems too big.’
‘Does he?’ I made a face.
Hughes pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘It’s warm here in Lisbon, isn’t it?’
‘You’ll get used to it.’ I smiled at him. ‘And most of the rooms have those big ceiling fans so we’re really better off here than being in London when it’s summer. It gets so stuffy in those old buildings in Westminster.’
Hughes looked up. ‘No ceiling fans here.’
‘Well, no,’ I admitted. ‘Big windows though.’
There was a short, slightly awkward pause.
‘Have you worked with Valentine for long?’ I asked.
Henry shook his head. ‘A few weeks.’
I was surprised. ‘It seems like you’ve known him longer.’
‘Well, his reputation precedes him, doesn’t it?’
‘Absolutely,’ I lied. I’d been in Lisbon for such a long time now that the comings and goings of people in Westminster were a mystery to me.
‘I was delighted when I landed this job,’ Henry told me, looking a little sheepish. ‘My brother’s joined up of course. And my best friend from school. But I couldn’t. I’ve rotten eyesight, you see.’ He swallowed. ‘And then my Gwen, she joined the Land Army.’
‘Is that your girlfriend?’
He stood up a little straighter. ‘Fiancée.’ He pulled out his wallet and showed me a photograph. In it, a younger, happier Henry stood on a windswept clifftop, his arm round the shoulders of a ruddy-faced, sturdy girl with freckles.
‘She looks nice,’ I said truthfully.
‘She’s extraordinary.’ Henry gazed at the photograph for a moment then he shut his wallet and stuffed it back in his pocket, while I wondered if anyone would ever call me extraordinary.
‘So, yes, I was feeling rather useless back home, stuck behind a desk.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose again. ‘Then I got the old tap on the shoulder, one afternoon. I didn’t really believe that was true – thought it was a bit of a myth.’
I chuckled. ‘Me too. But mine was before the war. I was still at university.’
Henry sucked in his cheeks. ‘You must have made an impression on someone.’
‘I can’t be sure, but I think it might have been my history lecturer Professor Norris.’
‘It’s a funny old game, isn’t it?’ He glanced at my left hand. ‘Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘Parents?’
‘They think I’m a translator for the consulate.’
‘Plausible.’
‘And half-true, actually. I do translation when I have time.’
‘Is that what you’re doing now?’
‘No.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m in clerical.’
‘Seems like a waste of your skills.’
‘Thank you.’ I was chuffed. ‘I’m trained in all sorts.’
‘Shooting?’ Henry sounded interested.
‘Yes.’
‘How about hand-to-hand combat?’
‘That too.’
‘Then I need to be careful around you,’ he said, with a grin.
‘Well, no, you seem nice,’ I said, light-heartedly though I was only half-joking.
‘So you’re saying Valentine …’
‘He needs to watch his back.’