Chapter 19
I was uncharacteristically rattled by Parrish’s threats. I said as much to Lara later that day.
‘He’s just another man who thinks he can take what he wants from a woman,’ she said, wrinkling her nose up in disgust. ‘There are a lot of them about.’
‘I can’t shift the worry that he’s involved with the PVDE,’ I told her. ‘Why else was he sniffing around the bookshop? And now I’m on his radar, and I’m working with Valentine, and doing the extra visas. There’s a lot at stake.’
‘You know everyone at the embassy,’ Lara pointed out. ‘Why not get him moved? Or sacked, even?’
We were drinking port in Bea’s tiny backyard, enjoying the evening sunshine. It was a lovely spot, though it was small. I liked it there.
‘I can’t do anything without proof,’ I said. ‘No one saw him try to … well, you know. No one saw him threaten me, and as for the rest, it’s more of a feeling, isn’t it?’
‘Digby would listen to your instincts.’
I sipped my port. ‘Ordinarily he would, but I don’t want to rock the boat so soon after he’s let me back in. What if he thinks this is all part of my grief?’
‘Hmm,’ said Lara. ‘It’s tricky.’
‘I don’t really know how I can prove anything unless I follow him, and catch him red-handed,’ I said.
‘Then let’s follow him.’ Lara was fearless, but I was more cautious, and I shook my head.
‘You’re not following anyone,’ I said. ‘And if I follow him, then I’m risking putting everyone in danger.’
‘He won’t see us,’ Lara said, scoffing, and ignoring my assertion that she was not going to be involved in any surveillance I was considering.
‘He might see us. Me.’
‘We’re trained.’
‘He might be, too.’
‘We need to find out what he’s up to,’ said Lara, pouring more port into my glass.
‘Maybe he isn’t up to anything.’
‘Everyone is up to something.’
Valentine crept into my mind. We may have been working hard on the books, but he was still wining and dining the women from the typing pool, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was off playing golf with a dignitary or two.
I thought more of him now I knew him better, but it was still immensely annoying.
‘What do you think?’ Lara was still talking, and I dragged my mind away from Valentine and back to our conversation.
‘About what?’
Lara rolled her eyes. ‘About Parrish.’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I was thinking maybe we should do the visa requests somewhere else. I’m worried he’ll get wind of it if we do them at the embassy.’
‘How about the bookshop?’ Lara said.
I gave her a withering glance. ‘Seriously?’
‘In the flat upstairs,’ she said. ‘We can make it into a little office and use the back entrance. No one would even know that door was there unless you told them.’
That was true enough. The back entrance was tucked away down a little alleyway.
‘I’m not sure …’ I said.
‘Cassie, I literally hid a Nazi up there for days and the only reason you and Digby found out about it was because I told you,’ said Lara.
I laughed. ‘That is true,’ I admitted. ‘But now I’m thinking about it, perhaps moving everything from the embassy would attract more attention than less. Clerical is probably the perfect place for it. There’s just so much to do.’
‘Gosh, Cassie, you’re all over the place,’ said Lara. ‘Maybe it is too much for you, being back with Section D so soon after your brother and now this business with Parrish?’
‘It is not too much,’ I said firmly. ‘In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m so keen to crack on with things that I’m resentful of Parrish and his interference.’
‘If you’re sure?’ Lara poured more port, and I nodded.
‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘Now, tell me everything that’s been happening with you.’
The next day, neither Henry nor Valentine was in the office when I arrived. There was just a pile of newspapers on one desk that told me someone had been there already.
I sat down and picked up The Times. Hitler had turned his attentions to the east, pushing through the Baltic and into Russia. Goodness, it made for bleak reading. Was the whole world going to be ruled by the Nazis eventually? The thought made me shudder.
I sighed, slapping the newspaper down on the desk and picking up the Weekly Dispatch instead. There was an advert on the front page asking for donations to the Red Cross to send food parcels to POWs. We could put books in those parcels, I thought. I made a note.
Feeling at a loose end, I put the Weekly Dispatch down, and wandered to the door of the office, to see if I could see Henry or Valentine.
I looked out into the hallway, just in time to see Parrish crossing the landing, and heading downstairs.
He was wearing his hat, and he was clearly on his way out.
‘Where are you off to so early?’ I murmured to myself. Then, on a whim, I grabbed my own jacket and bag, and I followed.
Lara had been correct when she said we were trained in surveillance.
We both knew how to tail someone without being seen, and I had to admit it was easier in Lisbon than it had been in the Scottish border town where I’d done my training.
Lisbon was full of little alleyways and cut-throughs, the bright sun cast dark shadows that were useful for ducking into, and the streets were usually filled with people, who provided accidental cover.
With Parrish up ahead, I set off on the opposite side of the street. He was heading into the Baixa – the main part of the city, which was good for me because it was always busy.
Here the buildings were taller, and the shops were more expensive. Parrish paused to look in the window of a fancy tailor and on the other side of the street, I waited, too, watching him through a group of women chatting outside a café.
He moved on, and so did I, confident he hadn’t noticed me behind him. He crossed the road and for a second I lost him as a tram went by.
‘Bloody hell, Cassie,’ I muttered under my breath, annoyed at myself. But then I spotted him, going into a pasteleria on the corner opposite.
I let him go inside, then I darted across the street.
Parrish was at the counter, talking to the waitress.
Then he went out of the door at the back that either led to a garden or the toilets.
Casually, I walked to my left, checking the side of the café.
There was nowhere for me to go. So I went the other way, round to my right, and this time I struck lucky.
There was an alley running up the side of the café.
It was narrow and smelled of bins, but I could see it opened out on the street behind, so it didn’t feel risky.
Checking to see if anyone was watching me, I ducked into the passageway and softly walked along beside the wall of the café to where it joined a lower tiled wall, with carved stone at the top.
As I’d hoped, the back door Parrish had used opened into this little walled back yard with metal tables and chairs.
I could just about see over the top of the wall, but I didn’t want to peer over and make it obvious I was watching, so instead I strolled slowly by, glancing through the carved stone designs.
The garden was quiet – it wasn’t lunchtime yet – but I could see Parrish there at a table.
He had his back to me, which was handy, but it also meant he was blocking the face of the man he was talking to.
I reached the end of the alleyway, and paused, thinking.
Then I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a headscarf.
Quickly, I tied it round my hair. Then I found a pair of glasses in my bag – clear lenses, but a useful tool for a quick way to look different – and put them on, too.
With my hastily assembled disguise in place, I strolled back along the alley the other way. This time I could see the man Parrish was talking to. He wasn’t in uniform but I immediately recognised him as a PVDE officer, whose name, I knew, was Jose Costa.
The PVDE had various responsibilities in Lisbon, but one of their main duties was overseeing the refugees that had flooded the city.
They didn’t process the visas – that was the job of the government officials, like Alves – but they did have ultimate responsibility.
And as far as I could tell, that meant making life as tricky as possible for all the desperate people heading to Lisbon.
Seeing Parrish with Costa made my blood run cold. Suddenly, it all made sense. He must have got wind of Bea and Lara helping Alves process the Portuguese visas.
But then again, perhaps poor Alves being sanctioned had come just at the right time for Bea and Lara, putting an end to their contribution and stopping Parrish getting any proof they were involved.
He might even have stumbled on the work Edith and I were doing – though I wasn’t sure how.
It was just the same process as usual, the only difference was the quantity of visas being processed.
But if he had found it, I didn’t think the PVDE or the Nazis would be that bothered about a few extra British visas being processed.
They had no jurisdiction over our embassy. It was British soil, albeit in Lisbon.
My legs felt weak as I forced myself to keep walking past. I made it a little way down the street, where I jumped on a passing tram and slumped down, thankfully, on a seat.
I took off my headscarf and glasses, thinking hard.
If Parrish was working with the PVDE – which seemed beyond doubt, because why else would he be with Costa – then it was a problem, but perhaps not a big one. I could keep an eye on him, stay out of his way, and hopefully his bruised ego wouldn’t cause any problems.
Perhaps this was all going to be fine. I leaned back in my seat, watching Lisbon trundle past the tram windows. Perhaps.