Chapter 6 Cassie
Cassie
Lisbon
Senhor Alves was officially sanctioned the following Monday morning.
As Bea had predicted, he was dismissed in disgrace. But he went down fighting. When I’d seen Lara at the bar over the weekend, she told me the lights at his office had been on every night as he worked through the small hours, getting as much done as he could before he was forced to stop.
And, with nothing else to do, and eight days left before I could return to work, I’d been making some plans of my own.
I sat at my desk in the clerical department, which was empty because I’d come to work early. And I looked at my notepad and allowed myself a small smile. I worked in an embassy for heaven’s sake. And not just any embassy; I worked in the British Embassy.
Full of determination, I got up, tucked my notebook under my arm and headed off to the top floor.
As I went up the wide, tiled stairs – ever so slightly breathless at the exertion – I passed a young man, whom I knew by sight.
I nodded to him, and he did the same to me, and we went on our way.
And then as I turned to go up the last flight of steps, I paused, my hand on the smooth wooden banister.
I’d seen that man somewhere recently. Not here in the embassy, but elsewhere.
I peered down the middle of the stairs, but he was gone.
Wondering where I’d seen him, but confident it would come back to me now I’d thought of it, I made my way up to the offices on the top floor where my friend Edith worked.
Edith had been my first friend in Lisbon.
She was much older than me – if it hadn’t been for the war, she’d have retired and been happily living in her hometown of Oxford surrounded by books by now.
But as it was, she was still running the documents department with the ferocity and efficiency she’d employed for years.
I knocked on the door and pushed it open.
‘No,’ she said, from across the room without looking up. ‘It is Monday morning, and it is unreasonable to request a visa at this hour of the day …’ As she glanced up and saw it was me, her face softened.
‘Cassie,’ she said. ‘This is a treat. What brings you up to the fourth floor?’
‘Can’t a person just pay a visit to an old friend?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘A person can,’ she said. ‘You, Cassie, cannot. What is it you’re after?’
Edith was the only person in the embassy – apart from Digby and now Valentine and Hughes – who knew what my real job was. She’d produced all sorts of paperwork over the last few years, for me and for members of my various teams.
I glanced at the door, which I had left ajar, and reading my mind, Edith went and closed it firmly.
‘What do you need?’
‘Visas,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘How many?’
I had no idea. I made a face. ‘Hundreds?’
Edith didn’t reply at first. She turned the key in the lock and pulled down the blind on the window. Then she came back to her desk, sat down and said: ‘For whom?’
‘Jews.’
As succinctly as I could, I outlined what Alves had started. Then I talked about how Bea and Lara had said they wanted to keep his work going. And then I looked at her, hopefully.
‘I thought maybe you could help?’
Edith was listening intently, her brow furrowed. Forefinger tapping on her desk as she thought.
‘I can’t process Portuguese visas, Cassie.’
‘No, of course not.’ I paused. ‘But you can process British visas.’
‘A British visa won’t allow Jewish refugees safe passage through Spain.’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘We can’t help the refugees who are still in France.’
Edith looked at me. ‘But we can help the ones who are here in Lisbon?’
‘Exactly! The refugees who are lucky enough to make it here get stuck for months and months, and it’s holding everything up. If we can process them faster – like Bea and Lara were helping Alves do – then it means more people can get to safety.’
‘What does Digby say?’
I screwed my nose up. ‘I haven’t mentioned it to Digby.’
‘Whyever not? He is a good man. I’m sure he would gladly help refugees.’
‘I know.’ I nodded. ‘He would. But the thing is … well, I’m not long back and I’m not really supposed to be …’ I paused, not sure what to say that wouldn’t make Edith think this was all a huge mistake. ‘Anyway, going through the official channels would take months to sort out – you know how it is.’
There was a long silence. So long that I started to feel a little uncomfortable. Edith was leaning back in her seat, looking up at the ceiling fan.
Finally, she straightened up.
‘There are terrible stories coming out of Germany and the occupied countries.’
‘There are. Jewish people have lost everything. Businesses, jobs, belongings, freedom …’
‘Hope,’ added Edith. She looked straight at me. ‘I think we have to do something to help.’
‘I agree.’
Edith paused again, clearly searching for the right words.
‘In my opinion,’ she began slowly, ‘the system is set up to deter refugees travelling to Britain.’
‘Really?’ I was shocked. ‘But I thought …’
‘Oh, we like to pretend we’re terribly welcoming, but it’s so complicated, it makes things harder. And it’s expensive.’
‘Expensive?’
‘Refugees have to have ￡50 in a foreign bank account …’
‘I thought Jews from the occupied territories weren’t allowed to hold money in foreign accounts?’ I said, my brow furrowed.
Edith gave me a look that said ‘see!’ and I sighed because I did see.
‘Well, that makes things harder,’ I said.
‘Or they must be self-supporting – have a job offer. Those jobs are usually domestic servants, or there are some nursing positions.’
‘I’ve met doctors at Rossio,’ I said, referring to the city square where the refugees gathered. ‘Teachers, lawyers, musicians, all sorts.’
‘That doesn’t matter to the authorities,’ said Edith. ‘The other alternative is for them to have a sponsor, who will guarantee the ￡50.’
‘That’s a lot of money,’ I said, deflated now. I’d been so excited about my idea, and now it all seemed hopeless.
Edith tapped her finger on the desk again. ‘Before the war I made the acquaintance of a couple of sisters. Opera buffs, they were. They travelled all over Europe watching shows.’
‘Right.’ I wasn’t interested in opera.
‘And while they were whizzing about the continent, they smuggled home jewellery and trinkets belonging to Jews. Then they used those valuables as security for their sponsors.’
My jaw dropped. ‘Two women did that?’
‘Ordinary women. They were good fun, actually. One of them writes romance stories. Imagine that.’
My head was spinning.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying there is always a way.’ Edith smiled at me. ‘We just have to be creative.’
‘How likely is it that the job offers will be double checked?’ I said, thinking hard. ‘Would anyone turn up to check that a refugee was doing the job they had said they would do?’
‘Before the war, things were quite tightly controlled,’ said Edith. ‘Now, I think it’s more haphazard. A telephone call at best.’
‘And the sponsors? Are their financial affairs checked?’
Edith shrugged. ‘Not in fine detail. Not anymore.’
‘Hmm.’ I tapped my own fingers on the desk, mimicking Edith. My thoughts were coming fast, one after the other and I was trying to get them in order. Perhaps we could help the refugees and my parents.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.
‘What if we get a whole load of names from Britain? People who can offer jobs or sponsorship – in theory, though perhaps not in actual fact – and use them to process as many visas as we can.’
‘Where would we find people willing to do that?’ Edith said. ‘It’s illegal.’
I shrugged. ‘I find the law to be more flexible in wartime.’
With a smile, Edith nodded.
‘My brother died,’ I said.
‘I know.’
‘My parents are lost.’
‘Understandable.’
Edith eyed me with trepidation, as though she wasn’t sure where this was going.
‘They need something to do.’
‘Cassandra, are you using your family tragedy to get me to do your bidding?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, yes, but in a good way.’
Edith chuckled. ‘Go on.’
‘My mother runs the WI in our village,’ I said. ‘She’s a regional organiser in fact. She can drum up a room full of willing women at the drop of a hat. And my father, despite being a cleric, or perhaps because he is a cleric, likes nothing more than bending rules in order to do good.’
Understanding was dawning on Edith’s face.
‘Bea knows everyone,’ I went on. ‘And Lara doesn’t have much family of her own, but she has a whole theatre of people who would do anything to help her.’
‘I’m fairly sure the opera-loving sisters had an arrangement with the Quakers,’ Edith said, leaning forward, as she took in what I was saying. ‘And I know a lot of people in Oxford.’
‘Edith, I need you to think carefully about this,’ I said. ‘It might not be entirely illegal but it’s certainly on the edge of being so. We’re risking our jobs with the embassy. And lord knows the PVDE would not be impressed if they found out. They might throw us in jail.’
We both went quiet again. But then Edith nodded.
‘The risks are high,’ she said. ‘But I believe they’re worth it.’
Relieved that she’d understood what I was saying, I clapped my hands together.
‘If I get the names, can you process the visas?’
‘I can sort the paperwork, but I’ll need a hand filling in the forms if we want to work quickly.’
‘Count me in,’ I said, ignoring thoughts of my desk in clerical waiting for me. ‘I literally have nothing else to do.’
‘Good,’ said Edith with a smile. ‘How’s your typing?’
I laughed. ‘It’ll do.’
‘Can you speak to Bea and Lara? The sooner we can get started the better.’
‘I’ll go now.’
Edith glanced at me.
‘You really have got nothing to do?’
‘Nothing,’ I said firmly.
I went back downstairs, planning to pop my head into clerical and tell them I was doing some work elsewhere today. As I went along the corridor, someone fell into step beside me. I glanced round to see Archie Valentine.
‘Hello, Watson,’ he said.
‘Watkins,’ I corrected.
‘Watkins.’ He grinned at me. ‘This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?
Walking along in-step like this. I didn’t intend it.
I didn’t know whether to wait for you to pass before I started walking, or rush to get ahead of you.
And then I chose to rush, but you’re going at a cracking pace, and I found I’d overestimated my own speed. ’
Despite myself, I smiled. Encouraged, he carried on. ‘So where are you off to in such a hurry?’
‘Clerical.’
‘Fun.’
‘Not really.’
There was a pause. Our hurried steps echoed round the empty hall.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked him. I was intrigued by what Hughes had told me about MI9. It was such a huge job, and so very important, that I was keeping my fingers crossed that I’d be put on Valentine’s team as soon as I was given the nod to get back to proper work.
‘Actually, I was going to clerical, too.’
‘Really?’ I stood up a little straighter, wondering if he had been coming to see me. Perhaps he would persuade Digby to let me go back to work sooner. ‘Why?’
Valentine smiled at me. He was, I thought, extremely handsome. He looked more like a film star than a spy. For some reason that annoyed me.
‘I’ve got someone to see.’
We’d reached the door of the department. In a very gentlemanly fashion Valentine opened the door for me. ‘After you.’
I paused. If it was me he wanted to speak to, surely it was better to talk in the silent corridor than in a busy office?
‘Who is it you’re visiting?’ I asked, my hand on the door and my conviction faltering.
‘Go ahead,’ Valentine said. ‘I just want a quick chat with Penny. We’re going for lunch.’
‘Lunch?’ I said. ‘With Penny?’
He looked at me oddly. ‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you have a lot of work to do? With, you know …’ I mouthed it: MI9?
Valentine raised one neat eyebrow and feeling a little foolish, I shrugged.
‘Are you going inside, or not?’ he asked.
‘I am,’ I said, uncharacteristically flustered. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’
I walked ahead of him and went straight to my desk.
As Valentine walked through the office, around me, the women in the department all subtly smoothed down their hair and adjusted their blouses.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Valentine go over to where Penny sat. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she gave a little laugh that sounded like bells ringing and put her hand on his arm. Next to me, Helen sighed. ‘Lord, he’s handsome. Penny’s so lucky.’
‘He should be working,’ I snapped. ‘Not flirting.’
‘I don’t mind what he does, as long as he does it where I can see him.’
The irony of Valentine being in clerical – where I absolutely did not want to be – when he had a proper job waiting for him in Section D, was so irritating that I couldn’t stand to watch a second longer.
‘I have to pop out,’ I said to Helen.
‘You just got here,’ she pointed out, her eyes still on Valentine, who was now perched on the edge of Penny’s desk, regaling everyone around him with a lively story that I couldn’t quite hear. Which was annoying in itself.
‘Yes,’ I muttered. ‘Woman troubles. Back soon.’