Chapter 10 Cassie
Cassie
Lisbon
Rather grudgingly, I spent the rest of the day in clerical. I didn’t want to give Digby any reason to stop me going back to Section D, and I did feel a bit bad about not pulling my weight.
Clerical wasn’t the worst place to be, if I was honest. The other women were fun, and the chatter made the hours pass quickly, even if the work was mind-numbingly boring.
‘You seem to be getting on well with the new vice-consul,’ I said to Penny as we filed papers together.
‘He’s quite funny,’ she said. ‘He’s definitely got the gift of the gab, that’s for sure.’
‘Did he say anything about what he’s doing here?’
She looked at me curiously. ‘He’s the vice-consul.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘I just wasn’t sure what that involved.’
Penny shrugged. ‘Lots of lunches and trips to the golf course, as far as I can tell.’
I chuckled.
‘He’s young enough to be fighting,’ Penny went on. ‘That’s what I keep thinking. Digby and most of the other chaps here, they’re too old, aren’t they? But Valentine is young enough to have joined up.’
‘You’re not impressed?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Your brother died,’ she said bluntly. ‘And my brother is a prisoner of war. And Valentine is playing a lot of golf.’
I put my hand on her arm. ‘Keeping the Portuguese onside is an important job,’ I said. ‘We need Valentine to charm the right people.’
‘I suppose.’
I nudged her. ‘And he is handsome.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’ She pulled open a drawer of the filing cabinet.
‘He’s charming you.’
‘He’s trying. Though I have no idea why.’
I laughed, because Penny knew everyone and everything that was happening in the embassy. And, of course, she was very pretty and lots of fun, which perhaps Valentine was more interested in.
I wasn’t sure.
Thinking about her knowing everyone, though, made me remember Steven.
I handed her some files and said: ‘There’s a chap from upstairs. I can’t remember his name. Thin face, tall, I think he might be called Steven …’
‘I know who you mean,’ said Penny. ‘Steven Parrish. He’s worked here for years.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Why?’
I chose my words carefully because Penny was, as I’d told Digby, terribly indiscreet. ‘He’s interested in a friend of mine.’
Penny leaned against the filing cabinet. ‘He’s nice to look at, I suppose, if you like tall, lanky men.’ The tone in her voice suggested she didn’t. ‘But he takes himself very seriously.’
‘Earnest?’
‘More superior,’ Penny said. ‘Like he’s treating us to his presence for now, but he’s destined for better things.’
That made me uneasy. ‘Might tell her to steer clear, then.’
‘I would.’ Penny grimaced. ‘Chances are if he’s interested in her, it’s because he thinks she’s got something he wants.’
I raised an eyebrow and Penny giggled. ‘Not like that,’ she said. ‘He just strikes me as the type of bloke who doesn’t do anything unless there’s something in it for him.’
‘Urgh,’ I said. ‘I’ll warn her.’
‘I would.’
We carried on with our work, chatting about this and that. But my mind was racing. I wondered if Steven Parrish was one of the many, many people in Lisbon who took rumours and gossip to the PVDE in exchange for money.
Though if he had known about Bea and Lara helping with the Portuguese paperwork, surely something would have happened by now? A visit from a PVDE officer, perhaps.
And if Parrish had been hanging around and not found any evidence of what they were up to, perhaps he wasn’t very good at being an informant after all.
That thought comforted me a little. Plus, of course, it was all done now.
That chapter was closed, though if I had my way a new one was about to begin.
Spending the afternoon filing let me think about how to put my own visa plan into action. The first thing I needed to do was to get the people back in Britain to help. And I was going to start with my own parents.
So, at the end of the day, I headed to Digby’s office.
The Portuguese telephone system was surprisingly good, but we didn’t have phones in every office in the embassy. Clerical had them, and Edith’s department had them, but they also had lots of staff milling about at all hours of the day – including Parrish.
As I’d hoped, when I caught Digby, he was just getting ready to leave for the day.
‘Not yet,’ he said before I could even say hello.
‘I know.’ I made a face at him. ‘I wasn’t even going to ask about going back to work.’
‘Really?’
‘No.’ I tried to look as if I didn’t care either way. ‘I’ve barely thought about it, actually.’
Digby gave me a disbelieving glance.
‘I actually just wanted to use your telephone,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I’d like to check in with my parents. Make sure they’re doing all right.’
‘Of course,’ Digby said, as I’d known he would. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ I said, hoping Digby would leave. It would be hard to explain what we were doing if he was still lurking in his office.
Slowly, I dialled the number, watching Digby gather his belongings in an infuriatingly methodical fashion.
‘Hello, Dad!’ I trilled when he answered.
My father sounded so pleased to hear from me that I felt tears spring into my eyes.
‘Cassandra,’ he said. ‘What a treat.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ I said truthfully, sinking down into Digby’s chair.
‘And yours.’
‘Do you have time to chat?’
‘Always,’ he said. ‘What are you up to? Settling back into Portuguese life?’
‘The weather’s a lot better here than at home,’ I said.
‘I’m sure.’
See you tomorrow, Digby mouthed. I gave him a wave.
‘How’s Mum?’ I asked Dad.
‘Up and down.’
‘And you?’
Digby shut the door behind him, and I saw him walk down the hall past the windows in the office.
‘The same,’ said Dad.
Hating to interrupt him, but wanting to be quick, I jumped in.
‘Dad, I need your help,’ I said.
‘Are you in trouble?’ His voice sounded unsure and worried, and I thought this was how he would be now, forever, because his son had died.
‘No, I am absolutely not in trouble. Not me. But I want to help other people.’ I paused. ‘I want to help Jewish refugees.’
‘Good,’ said Dad.
‘And I thought you might like to work with me.’ I took a breath. ‘It could be a useful distraction.’
Dad went quiet. And then he finally spoke. ‘What can I do?’
I loved him so much for it, my heart almost ached.
Quickly, because phone calls were expensive, I told him our idea.
‘They need job offers?’
‘Yes, or sponsors who will guarantee ￡50.’
‘Your mother and I can take a housekeeper, and probably a gardener, too,’ said Dad. ‘I’m looking out at the rose bushes now and they’re in a terrible state. As is my paperwork, to be honest. I could make use of an assistant.’
‘Doesn’t Mum do that?’
‘Well, she did,’ said Dad. ‘But not now she’s joined the Women’s Voluntary Service.’
‘She’s joined the WVS?’ It was news to me, but I was pleased.
My mother had always been the type of woman who rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in.
But Jamie’s death had sucked a bit of the life out of her and when I had been at home, she had been listless and uncharacteristically reluctant to get involved. ‘Is it helping, do you think?’
‘I do,’ said Dad. ‘It’s made a real difference. But it does mean she is much too busy organising evacuees, and teaching people first aid, and who knows what, to help with my work now.’
‘Do you think she’d help find jobs for refugees too?’
‘I think she would love to.’
‘That would be wonderful, Dad, thank you.’
‘Anything to help.’
‘How easy do you think it would be? To find a job opening for a refugee, or someone to stand guarantee for the ￡50?’
‘That’s a lot of money.’
‘It is,’ I admitted. ‘But the thing is, we’re pretty sure it will never be an issue.
Edith says the Home Office won’t check – they simply don’t have the resources – and the refugees are all very determined to find work themselves.
Some of them have jewellery and other valuables with them, sewn into coats and whatnot. They’re not going to be a drain.’
‘Is this legal, Cassie?’
I paused, thinking of the best way to say it.
‘Not entirely. But it’s not entirely illegal either. And I am sure it is the right thing to do.’
‘How many refugees do you want to help?’
‘As many as we can,’ I said. ‘Hundreds?’
‘Oh Cassie, I’m not sure.’ Dad’s hesitation was audible in his voice, despite the crackles on the telephone line. ‘Are we the right people for this?’
‘I honestly can’t think of anyone better.’
I swapped the telephone receiver to my other hand. I was gripping it so hard, my fingers were beginning to ache.
‘And it’s not all on you.’ I was speaking fast now because I didn’t want him to change his mind.
‘Edith, the woman who’s helping with the documents, has a sister in Oxford who is getting her friends to help, and she thinks the Quakers will be on board.
Plus, another chum, Lara, has contacts in the theatre who she is sure will be able to find jobs for refugees.
And her boss, Bea, knows everyone and she’s been working with refugees since the last war.
We’re getting quite a lot of people to help. It’s a team effort.’
‘The Quakers are on board?’
I smiled. Dad didn’t like to be outdone by other churches.
‘It’s definitely their sort of thing,’ I said lightly.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Good.’
‘What do you say?’
Again, Dad took a while to answer and I held my breath.
‘It’s not entirely legal?’ he said, echoing my words back to me.
‘No.’
‘Your brother always said the law was an ass.’
‘I think it was Charles Dickens who said that.’ I was smiling because I could sense him talking himself into this.
‘Leave it with me,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll put the word out. See what I can do.’
‘Discreetly,’ I warned.
‘Of course.’
I leaned back against the chair in relief.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said. ‘I’ll call again at the end of the week, and we can discuss how it’s going to work.’
‘Cassie?’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘Keep doing the right thing, won’t you?’
I was smiling as I hung up the receiver.
Boosted by our conversation, I decided to see if Edith was still in her office, or if she’d gone home already.
Carefully closing Digby’s office door, I headed for the stairs. But when I reached the top floor, Edith’s office was empty.
Disappointed, I turned to go, just as Parrish came out of a room a little way along the corridor.
‘Oh,’ I said, startled. ‘Hello. I thought there was no one up here.’
He gave me a little smile. ‘I was just finishing a few things before I went home. Was there something you needed?’ He paused. ‘Or someone?’
‘I was just going to say hello to Edith,’ I said. ‘We’re old friends.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘She’s gone.’
‘I see that.’
He made to walk past me and I stuck my hand out. ‘I’m Cassandra Watkins, by the way,’ I said. ‘I’m a translator.’
He shook my hand, quite limply. ‘Steven Parrish,’ he said.
Once more he started walking and I followed. ‘Have you been here in Lisbon for long?’ I asked, scurrying along beside him.
‘Since ’38,’ he said.
‘Like it?’
‘It’s fine.’
Goodness, he wasn’t very chatty.
‘I love it,’ I said. ‘Though it’s strange now, isn’t it, with Brits and Germans all rubbing along together.’
He glanced at me as we started down the stairs, but he didn’t reply. I wondered if I could somehow ask where he lived, but I thought better of it.
We carried on down the stairs. I watched his feet on the tiled steps, noticing his shoes were shiny. Shiny and expensive looking. And the watch on his wrist glinted. Interesting.
As we approached the first-floor landing, having had enough of the awkward conversation, I said: ‘Well, this is me. Nice to meet you, Steven.’
‘Likewise,’ he said, sounding as though it had been anything but.
I peeled off as though I was going back to our office, but then I paused and leaned over the railings to see him go.
Downstairs, in the foyer was Valentine. He was with Helen from the clerical department.
She was standing with her back against the wall, and he was talking to her, leaning slightly forwards, with his hand on the wall next to her head.
It seemed intimate, and flirty. But I couldn’t help noticing that though Helen’s full attention was on Valentine, he was watching Parrish go by. And I wondered why.
Parrish pushed open the embassy door and headed off outside. On a whim, I bounded down to the ground floor, dropping my bag on the floor as I darted past Valentine and Helen, who were standing much further apart now, and talking quite earnestly.
I bolted past them and out of the door, then I stood on the gravelled entrance to the embassy, trying to see which way Parrish had gone.
For a moment, I couldn’t see him, but then I saw his shadow through the railings of the grounds, ahead of me to my right.
I leaned against the brick pillar at the side of the doorway. Parrish was going in the opposite direction to the bookshop. If he was going home, he definitely didn’t live in the part of town where I’d seen him twice, and Lara had spotted him too.
‘Everything all right?’ Valentine appeared next to me and made me jump.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You hurtled past me like the hounds of hell were after you.’
‘Just, erm, checking something.’
‘Something?’ The words ‘or someone’ hung in the air between us. The idea that he had also been watching Parrish crept into my mind. I dismissed it immediately. Surely that was my imagination working overtime?
‘Where’s Helen gone?’ I asked.
‘Home,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’
His eyes flickered from me, to where Parrish had vanished into the distance, and then back to me.
‘You should get off too,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’
‘Yes.’
I turned to go, then turned back. ‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘Are you going home?’
‘Not quite yet. I have some more work to do.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Goodnight.’
I picked up my bag, my head full of visas, and job offers, worries about Parrish, and confusion over what Valentine was up to.