Chapter 18: All quiet on the Home Front 30th September 1939
The war was nearly a month old. A month which grew ever bleaker with the news that continued to spill through. The Polish Army and the Polish People had put up a brave fight, inflicting losses that the Germans did not perhaps expect, but surrounded on all sides, they were nearly done. An official surrender was not yet given but the outcome was already known. Having every right to feel aggrieved with France and Britain, who'd agreed to come to their aid without ever really doing so, they would be split up like prize loot between the Nazi's and the Soviet's. A proud country carved apart by the two larger ones sat either side.
Life in Derry was nowhere near as hard as life in Warsaw, a charmed existence when put into full comparison. Everyone was human though and in every nation involved in the conflict, young women were missing their husbands and partners. Erin or Orla were no different to their German or Polish counterparts of the same age. They missed their fellas so… so much…
It was James that Erin was thinking of at the breakfast table that morning. That and her stomach that was groaning at her, having been ravenous from the moment she woke up. Mary was busy making a cooked breakfast for her that couldn't have come any quicker, whilst Gerry pulled faces at Anna which made her laugh heartily. Quite the typical Saturday morning at the Quinn house, fun still to be enjoyed even in the circumstances that they were in. Gerry would always see to it that at least one of his daughters would be happy and smiling at the table, even if the other one was not.
"Mammy…". Erin muttered.
"Speak up love, there's no charge for speakin' loudly here". Mary grumbled in return.
"Is breakfast ready yet?"
"I don't know Erin…". The clearly aggravated Mary replied once more. "… is it on the table in front of ye?"
"No…".
Erin knew where this was going, and it wasn't going to go her way. Her mother was winning this argument without question.
"Aye right… there's ye answer then".
Huffing, Erin folded her arms. She was so hungry, she could have eaten a horse, although there weren't any horses close enough for her to get too. Orla would no doubt stop her too as she loved her horses. The smell wasn't making it any easier; the wafting smell of bacon delighted her nasal passages, although James would have no doubt done the meal more justice. Bacon was not always a treat they could have if money got a little tight, but James made sure to see to that in the few hours before he left for England. He'd left Erin with some money to do with what she pleased… more money than she'd ever seen in her life, with only her parents allowed to know about it as per his instruction. Yet no amount of money could get it in front of her any quicker.
A further growl from her stomach was noted by Anna.
"Erin yer stomach's not happy!". She commented vigorously.
"Aye it doesn't understand why there's no plate of food ready yet…".
Her ears standing on end, Mary immediately hammered her fist onto the counter to the side of her, all of them jumping out of their seats. Erin pushed too far, and she knew it. Mary decided to say as much though, just to be sure.
"Do ye want breakfast Erin!?" An almost murderous voice emanated from her. "Because by the good Lord himself, I am going to test the backup spoon on ye if ye make one more comment, DO YE HEAR ME!?"
"Love…". Gerry foolishly tried to mediate, noticing Erin's distressed look.
"No Gerry. I WILL NOT stand by and make her breakfast when she's criticisin'!". She turned around, turning her fury onto her husband. "If she thinks she can do it better, she does it herself!"
Partially wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, Gerry nodded to stay in line. There was nothing that he could do to get his wife to change her mind, having been in the position many times before. Erin was going to have to apologise. How long it would take for her to back down and do some was not something he wanted to have to predict.
"So, Erin!" Mary shouted at her. "Ye takin' over?!"
Starting to snivel ever so slightly from knowing she was defeated, Erin looked to her father or even Anna to say something, but they were smart enough not to do so.
"No Mammy…". She finally mumbled.
"As I thought". She tilted her head to the side, in order to gloat in her victory. "Anyway, why are ye so hungry, ye never a huge eater".
Mary turned her back after asking the question and therefore did not see the state of fluster it left her eldest in. Gerry and Anna did however, neither understanding why Erin's face went bright red in the aftermath. A perfectly innocent question was being asked, making the response to it from her seem incredibly odd and out of place. Anna didn't think too much more on it, but Gerry did, continuing to stare at his daughter to find out the truth behind it.
"Well… I… I…". Erin stammered, doing little to convince Gerry to turn away. "…. I didn't eat too much at lunch yesterday and… i-it was a hard day at work like…".
"I didn't think I'd asked Clare…". Mary snorted.
"Look I'm just hungry alright Mammy, there's nothin' sinister goin' on!"
"Calm yerself down Erin…". Gerry told her, choosing to smile as opposed to continuing to stare at her. "… yer mother is just concerned, that's all. It's not like you to get so hungry… is there a reason ye didn't eat properly at lunch?"
"It was busy!" She rushed into a reply.
Without wishing to cause an argument, Gerry opted to furrow his brows again. He didn't believe Erin's explanation at all but didn't get a chance to delve into it any further, as the breakfast that kickstarted their whole row that morning appeared on a plate in front of her. Thanking her mother, she tucked into the bacon and eggs rampantly, Anna and Gerry joining her in eating when their breakfasts arrived a minute later. Erin tore into every rasher with abundant enthusiasm, getting stuck into the toast quickly too. Her style of eating was more akin to savagery than eating politely in the company of the family, as if she'd not eaten for weeks rather than hours. Mary did a brilliant job with it, albeit not being anywhere near the perfection that James could serve up, though was thanked by her daughter once she'd cleaned the plate. Allowed to be excused from the table, she raced off upstairs, leaving her parents staring at each other once she'd departed.
"Christ, she really was hungry…". Mary noted.
"I know love… I'm a bit worried…". He stated honestly.
"Ach don't be Gerry…". She replied. "… she's still a growin' girl ye know and she wasn't wrong. It was a busy day yesterday, Meyler was floggin' us so he was".
"Well if it's for the war effort…".
"What war effort Gerry? Those soldiers have barely left their barracks whilst those poor Polish fellas have been cut to pieces… it's not right ye know!"
Incensed by the lack of action on the parts of the British and French armies, Mary always scrolled through the newspaper in disgust. There were days when she wished she'd really been unlucky in life and lacked the ability to read, because some of the articles she read only infuriated her more. There was no good sending boys off to war if they weren't doing any fighting; they might as well have stayed back at home with their loved ones.
"Why aren't they helpin' the Poles, daddy?" Anna enquired with Gerry.
Gerry wasn't a man of great military prowess, the true answer to the question lying with the respective governments of Britain and France. He could give his opinion as her father though and an opinion which he hoped was not the truth of the matter, despite it looking that way.
"Poland… Poland is in a bad position Anna…". He tried to explain as delicately as possible. "… by the time our side could get there, it would already be too late".
"James and David could have helped!"
"Aye no doubt". He chuckled.
"But even they can't do it on their own". Mary added.
"James could!" Anna disagreed passionately with her mother. "He's the best! A… And David too!"
She may have been too smart for her own good at her age, but Anna was still innocent to the ways of the world. If she were a few years older then she'd know why the two couldn't take on the whole German Army, if not the Russian one too, alone. They were good… not that good.
"I'm sure yer sister agrees".
"She does Mammy. Sure, Erin loves James, so she does".
"We know love". Gerry laughed.
"Did ye know she cries when she goes to sleep?"
Eyes widening, Mary and Gerry first looked to each other, then back to their younger daughter. They weren't always awake when Erin put her head down for the night and were both usually heavy sleepers. Erin crying at night was news to them.
"No love…". Gerry answered, his tone indicating he wanted her to elaborate.
"Aye I've not heard her but she writes about everythin' and when I was in her room yesterday, I was readin' it…".
"Anna!" Mary scolded her. "Ye shouldn't be goin' through Erin's things like that!"
"But I wanted to! She says all the time that she cries at night because James isn't there… and I remember one night in the summer she cried as well…".
Their poor daughter. Their poor daughter and her heart that beat only for the dashing Englishman, whose presence she so desperately missed. A strained look appeared on Mary's face, the same one appearing on Gerry's too. There was little they could do for Erin… and it pained them.
All three heads were quickly spun when the sound of the front door opening rifled into their ears. A couple of seconds later they were greeted by the presence of Joe and the very heavily pregnant Orla. Always a joy to see the two of them, it was especially joyful for them to see the latter of the two. She was huge by now, her pregnancy coming towards its very final stages. She'd taken to more of a waddle than a walk wherever she went now, which amused little Anna greatly. She was the first to get up, without seeking permission to leave the table, not that Mary or Gerry were too bothered by the action. Anna knew not to jump on Orla, and instead went over to her and grabbed her by the hand.
"Ach hello Anna". Orla spoke first. "Yer lookin' well".
"Yer bigger! Can I touch yer belly?"
"Aye".
Her cousin beamed a smile of permission, soon feeling Anna's soft hand caressing her belly through the fabric of her clothing. Bursting into giggles at her touch, Orla glanced over to Mary and Gerry who looked upon the scene with fondness and then to Granda Joe, who looked upon Gerry with… rather less fondness…
"What are you staring at!?" He rounded on him.
"Come on now Joe, it's lovely, is it not?"
"Lovely would be you derailing one of those trains into the Foyle and never resurfacing… prick".
"Da!" Mary jumped in as usual. "ERIN! Yer Granda and cousin are here!"
She shouted up to her older daughter, wanting her to come down to see them or at least to the top of the stairs if she was busy doing whatever she was doing. The shuffling of feet across the landing at the top of the stairs a few seconds later became the confirmation that she'd indeed heard the shout.
"What brings ye here Da?" Mary questioned him.
"T-".
"We've got letters from David and James!"
Orla excitedly cut her Granda off. In the circumstances though, Joe did not mind, recognising the joy it gave his pregnant Granddaughter and the almost certain joy his other Granddaughter would get from the letter destined for her. To that extent he was rapidly proven correct, as the sound of footsteps became louder and louder. Appearing to hold very sensitive ears that morning, Erin raced down the stairs upon hearing that her wee Prince's letter was waiting for her. Everything around the house went a shade lighter in her eyes. She was going to hear from him, something she'd wanted so badly in the weeks that passed. The need to know that he was alive and well, safe and sound.
"WHERE!?" She shouted once she'd made it into the living room. "Where's the letter!?"
"Well here ye g-".
Joe was interrupted for a second time, stopping when Erin snatched the unopened letter out of his hand.
"Wains these days…". He grumbled lightly to himself.
Erin began ripping away at where it was sealed, the desperation and excitement combining to make a deadly potion, the main ingredient being the same one as always… love.
"Oh my god… DAVID'S SENT A WEE PICTURE!"
The plentiful excitement from Orla was the only thing that ceased Erin's frantic tearing of the seal, shifting over to her cousin to see how David was looking. In his airman's uniform, David looked as cracker as Erin had ever seen him, the new clothes suiting him perfectly. David was quite the handsome lad without it, the uniform only heightening just how handsome he truly was. Orla's face lit up so brightly, it could have kept the room shining for hours. Her husband looked the picture of health and she couldn't be happier.
"He looks cracker!" Orla delightfully announced to them all.
"Aye he does!" Erin quickly agreed.
Passing the photo over to the others, they were all nodding their heads at how well David looked in his uniform. Joe's lips curved up more than he would have liked them to, but he couldn't help but look upon the young man's picture affectionately.
"Have you got one Erin?" A gleeful Anna asked her sister.
Putting her hand into the envelope, she removed a photo of her own. One of her beloved James, posing in his full officer's uniform. Her heart went into overdrive at how simply amazing he looked in it. He wasn't just looking well, he was looking better than ever and considering how beautiful he was in her eyes, she didn't think it possible. The fully refined gentleman, his uniform showed off his more muscular frame, her eyes picturing being stood with him and the uniform slowly coming off to reveal more. Thoughts that didn't belong in her head when she was stood by her parents, refused to leave her… she craved him.
"He is… well my god…". Mary was lost for words. "… you are a lucky young woman, so ye are, Erin".
"I know I am Mammy". She replied, wiping a tear from her eye.
Mother and daughter were soon in a warm embrace as the photo was passed onto Anna and Gerry, who both agreed that James looked fantastic in his military garb. Joe found himself looking with fondness at him too. If the lad could bring tears of joy to his granddaughter's eyes, then him being English really didn't matter at all. After the handshake test, James' quality as a suitable young man was never really in question anyway but seeing him posing for the photograph in his uniform, Joe was reminded of himself from the Great War.
A young man of action.
"Morning all…".
Sarah walked in to join the fray, greeting them all in a sleepy voice. The tiring day at work must have really taken it out of her the day before, as she looked half asleep still, though no less beautiful to her father.
"Is that those wee letters ye were on about". She enquired with her daughter.
"Aye, they've sent pictures too Mammy!"
"Let's see!"
As excitable as her daughter, Sarah cast her eye over the pictures of both young men. They were both good looking fellas in their own right, but James just edged it on David for her. Not for the first time she wished she was just a few years younger, and he was just a few years older…
"They are lookin' well, I think I might join if that's how well they keep ye".
"Ye can't join Sarah". Mary huffed, rolling her eyes.
"Why not Mary, I'd be cracker as a soldier, although I wouldn't want me nails gettin' all dirty though…".
If she were a soldier, it would be more than just her nails that would be at risk of becoming dirt filled, though Mary decided not to say anything else on the matter.
"So, how are they then girls?"
To my darling Orla,
I never had myself down as a letter writer, but here we are.
The last few weeks have been very strange. I never thought I'd do anything other than fix cars in the day and be with you at night, which has made this all rather odd. For all some of our friends and family might go on about how terrible England is, it really isn't too bad here at all. In the couple of times we've been let out into the community, the people have been friendly enough with me. I am getting to know what James must feel like having an accent that is not like anyone around you. I try to speak as poshly as I can with the officers, although I think they are beginning to think I'm a bit of an eejit. It isn't entirely fair because James is one of them and he just laughs at me when I try to pull it off!
I was apprehensive about flying at first. I didn't tell James or any of the others about it, especially as I sat through the whole journey over to England in his plane, but during training it was a wee bit different with evasive manoeuvres. I was sick once… or twice! All in all though, it hasn't been too bad really. I'm quite enjoying learning new skills, keeping my fitness levels high and helping out around the barracks the best that I can. In the day, I don't get to see too much of James, but we share a room together so every night we have a good chat. We talk about you and Erin a lot seeing as you are the apples of our eyes, as James puts it. I just love you too much not to talk about you to James or to anyone.
Enough about me anyway, I hope you and our baby are well. I catch myself dreaming about our life together every night should this war not have started. Our baby to the side of our bed sleeping soundly, whilst we cuddle up together on it, watching the wain grow. Obviously, that will be us one day soon, not as soon as I would like it though. November is approaching quickly my love, there's not much more than a month now until we can welcome our wain into the world. I know you are strong and will do a fantastic job with our child in these last few weeks. I've also no doubt that Sarah and Joe are probably fussing around you all the time at the moment too… you couldn't be in safer hands!
We've not been told when we will have leave to come home yet. James has promised me that he'll do everything in his power to get me leave for around the time that our baby is due. He can't guarantee it and I don't expect him too, but there may be a chance that I can be with you. If not, our conversation before I left still stands. I know you won't think any less of me for not being there with you on the day if that is the case and I will continue to do what I can to make the world a safer place for our baby.
I have to go now Orls, Lieutenant Maguire can get very grumpy if we don't go to bed on time!
I love you
I love you so much, my beautiful wife.
Yours
David.
Dear Erin,
My Erin… my wonderful Erin…
To be able to put pen to paper and write to you is a blessing that I hope I have earned yet will cherish regardless. It is not the same as having you in front of me, to love and to hold, but alas in this time like no other then it is the only alternative I have. I do hope you will enjoy the photograph that I have sent along with this letter. Do let Anna see it as well, I am sure she would like to see me in my uniform!
There is so much I want to say, so little time to say it. I was shocked to discover that I wouldn't be starting at the bottom of the ladder here at all. I am second in command of the whole base, the senior Lieutenant without earning the combat experience for the title. I knew the Major held some influence but not so much that he could gain such an incredible promotion for me. I did not really know what to think at the time and I still do not know now. An opportunity is an opportunity though… I will not waste it! I suppose it almost parallels my job at the bank in a way. If the Flight Lieutenant here is away, then like when Mr Feeney would leave for an afternoon, I would be left in charge. Albeit there is a difference between the Ulster Bank and an airbase!
Training has been quite the enlightening experience. I think myself and David are both beneficiaries of some kind of fast-tracked approach to getting aircrews ready, as we do not have to complete any formal examinations. David's training has taken place away from my own, as he needs the time to adjust to flight, whereas I am already quite used to it as you know. I have to say, I wish you'd be up there in the skies with me. They are lonelier without you. When I do get up to practice then I revel in it. My merriment from flight has only be fleeting in appearances, with most of my time spent devoted to the textbooks, learning the correct conduct that an officer should adhere to. I do not have many men to command, so I cannot practice very easily, yet I feel oddly comfortable in taking on such responsibility. We have a few weeks of training left before we can consider ourselves fully prepared to be deployed and I cannot wait to be. I share a room with David that does for the two of us, a far cry from the spacious rooms of our cottage. Yes our, I know you will read this and deny it, but it is yours as much as it is mine.
I trust that you are well? And the girls too? I think of you always, wonder what you might be doing whilst I have my nose in the manual. Making shirts I suspect? I can only imagine the strain that has been placed upon you and the girls with the needs for new uniforms. Perhaps you will get to make a spare one for me in case this one gets dirty. I would love to wear a shirt from you into battle. It would be like I had you with me, which is what I always want. David talks to me about you and Orla all the time, and I know he is worried for their baby. I keep telling him that you will be there for her, which means everything will proceed as it should. But you know David, he does not always listen!
I need to get myself to bed now. It will be an early start in the morning and I have to do some fitness training of my own.
Before I finish though, I want you to know that I love you ever so dearly. The photograph I took of us never leaves my side… nor does your mother's wooden spoon, if you would be as so kind to tell her.
You are my wee Princess
I love you
Your James.
P.S Some fair warning, I have sent another letter to my Aunt, so be prepared for Michelle's thoughts should she have any. I suspect she will.
Two weeks later… 14th October 1939
The office of Lieutenant-Colonel Menzies was suddenly becoming a room that Captain Smithers was familiar with. Another meeting was scheduled, rather annoyingly, for late Saturday morning. It should have been the day before, but a late report from his agent in Derry meant it had to be pushed back, and it couldn't wait until Monday. The Joyce problem was not one that could be left to stew over a weekend of relaxing, needing to be discussed as soon as possible.
He was waiting there for the Lieutenant Colonel, who was delayed by another meeting with a different handler. A busy man with his hand in everything, his full attention couldn't always be placed upon one area of espionage, so if meetings overran, they overran.
It wasn't too long before he did appear though, greeting the awaiting Captain in his office the second he opened the door.
"Captain Smithers".
"Sir". Smithers stood to attention.
"Sit down".
The two took up their positions, Menzies behind his desk and Smithers in front of it. Files were out ready for them both, with the board up in the corner still where James and the Joyce family files were still pinned.
"Lovely day is it not?" Menzies began with joviality.
"Very sir". Smithers replied in the same tone of voice.
"Emerald Two has finally reported in then I take it?"
"Yes sir. Everything has been collated".
"Good".
Turning over the pages of their documents, Smithers took it upon himself to stand, walking over to the board where he preferred to deliver his update from.
"Emerald Two's latest update is the news that we feared sir…". Smithers began.
"About the Professor?" His superior was keen to know, visibly concerned.
"No sir, the daughter. Jenny".
The daughter. The one young woman who'd gone and put herself into a London hornet's nest from the walls of Derry. She didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, and perhaps not even what her father was up to, but she was in the situation regardless.
"First of all, Sir, Emerald Two has reported that there have been multiple complaints from other prisoners about the girl's singing".
"Smithers, I hope you haven't come all the way here to tell me all of the information we have, boils down to little more than a poor rendition of Amazing Grace!"
"No sir…". Smithers flashed an uncharacteristically cheeky smile. "… but Emerald Two thought it worth reporting as it has led to two assaults on her, which have disrupted information gathering…".
"Assaults!?" Menzies barked angrily. "By whom?"
"The Guards".
A terrible rendition of Amazing Grace must have been a really terrible rendition to make the guards beat a prisoner, even if they were suspected of some form of collusion with the Nazi's. Jenny's singing was infamously despised by the girls her age in the city, having put up with it all through their school lives that they shared with the Joyce's daughter. Menzies and Smithers were lucky men, having never heard it for themselves.
"Make sure that doesn't happen again Smithers". The irritated Menzies commanded.
"Sir, I don't think that will be a problem now".
Smithers' voice became laced with concern for the second time in as many meetings, which deeply troubled the Lieutenant-Colonel.
"Smithers…".
"I should explain sir…". He started, stopping to clear his throat. "… since our last meeting a few weeks ago, I have been in regular contact with Emerald Two. Upon Emerald Two's suggestion, we planted someone within the prison".
"You did not consult me about this…". Menzies's eyebrow raised.
"I…".
"You did the right thing Smithers, showed some ingenuity". He interrupted. "I admire that".
"Thank you, Sir". The Captain smiled back.
"Carry on Smithers".
One deep breath later, the Captain continued on with his explanation into what exactly had been going on in Ireland over the past couple of weeks.
"We planted somebody that went to school with Jenny, somebody that she would know and from what Emerald Two discovered, respected".
"I take it this girl knows nothing of what we want out of Miss Joyce?"
"That is correct, Sir". Smithers confirmed. "Emerald Two knows nothing and therefore could only pass on my instruction to her to report back on everything".
"Perfect. This girl, can she be trusted?"
Turning over to the next sheet of paper in his documents, Smithers indicated for Menzies to do the same, so that they were looking at the girl's profile. He'd compiled the comprehensive details about her himself, the element of their task requiring such a secrecy that he could not get anyone else to do so.
"Emerald Two knows her father, a former Colonel of the Royal Irish Rifles. Colonel Kavanagh".
"This Charlene is his daughter, I presume?"
"Precisely, Sir".
Charlene Kavanagh. She'd been at school with Jenny, Erin, Michelle, Orla and Clare, all of them falling into the same class. Erin always saw her as the beauty benchmark within the city, one which she never truly believed she got close to, the same benchmark Michelle scoffed at when told to believe in its existence by her friend. She mixed in similar circles to Jenny, not quite as wealthy, but her father owned land which brought them to the same functions as the Joyce's. A sense of duty had seemingly been passed from father to daughter, with the Colonel himself instrumental in preparing her for such an assignment.
"Naturally charismatic… smart…". Menzies began to read the description of her. "… an understanding of the higher echelons of society… I have to commend the two of you Smithers, you seem to have found the perfect plant".
Accepting the congratulations, Smithers nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear. He might have gone against protocol to get Charlene into the prison, but he'd done it so well that his superior could only approve of it. That made the hardworking Captain very happy indeed.
"She has proven to be, Sir". He spoke confidently. "Miss Kavanagh's position of popularity and high standing within society made it appear highly possible to the locals that, given the Joyce's arrest, the wealthier people of the city could be colluding with the German's".
"That is the official line?"
"That is the reason that has been given sir. We arrested her parents as well, or rather moved them out of the city for the time being to settle safely in the country at one of our places".
"Very well. When did all of this take place?" Menzies questioned again.
"The first day of this month, Sir. Miss Kavanagh was placed into a shared cell with Miss Joyce on the third and has spent the last couple of weeks enduring her terrible singing".
National security was no laughing matter, although Menzies could appreciate Smithers seeing the lighter side of it. Even men in their line of work needed to amuse themselves at times.
"She hasn't killed her, I hope?" Menzies asked, part jokingly but part nervously, wondering if that was what had already taken place.
"No. In fact, up until yesterday, there was very little information to go on. It would appear that Miss Joyce was unaware of her father's dealings with Doctor Van Der Heijden".
"But?"
"It is about James".
Wide eyes were what Smithers expected and exactly what Smithers got. Menzies's eyes were almost on the board themselves. Their worst fears truly were realised…
"Romantically?"
"It would appear that Miss Joyce seems to hold Mr Maguire in the highest of regards still…".
The morning before…
She'd never prepared for a stint in prison, never thinking she would end up there. Now she faced a lengthy stint inside and Jenny Joyce didn't know if she could survive. Twice she'd been attacked by the guards for not being quiet when they told her too. Why they wanted her to be quiet when she was harmoniously delivering a stirring rendition of Amazing Grace was peculiar. Resisting their instructions would not be something she would do again. Twice was enough; her black eye and the scars on her arms told her as much.
Split up from her father first, and then her mother a couple of days later, she'd seen nothing of anyone else until Charlene's arrival. When they'd first been taken away, the officers informed them that their friends and extended family would be able to visit them whenever they wished. They'd been lied to by the officers however, as not one of them in their separate cells, and in her father's case, separate prison, had seen anyone. She missed Aisling a lot. Aisling being her best friend and closest confidant would have been a vital person to have to talk to when it came to a visit, but she couldn't see her. Begging the guards to allow her to visit was out of the question given the prior beatings and with no one else ever around, she could do nothing. The only time she was allowed outside was the late evening to exercise, once everyone else was asleep too, kept from mixing with the other prisoners. But that changed slightly with Charlene's arrival…
The two of them were never solid friends at school, but given their families mixed in similar social circles, they always had some sort of understanding. They shared a particular dislike of Erin Quinn, Jenny for her obnoxious behaviour and Charlene for the blonde's tragic attempts to suck up to her. In prison, the understanding had developed into a friendship though. Charlene's family were all arrested for the same crime as her family, collusion with the Nazi regime. She knew Charlene's father was a former soldier, finding it difficult to understand why he would be suspected but considering she didn't even know why her father was suspected, thought nothing more of it. Victims of poor judgement, they were going to have to survive together. Charlene was particularly upset on her first couple of nights, although since then it was her who'd struggled whilst they continued to try to support each other.
It was early in the morning when they both awoke from deep slumber to the sounds of birds chirping away outside. Jenny missed being able to go out to enjoy such a peaceful morning.
"Morning Jenny". Charlene called down to her from the top bunk.
"Good Morning Charlene". She replied as pleasantly as one could when in prison. "Another day…".
"Aye, another day".
There were joint sighs from the two girls. Jenny shifted on her bed below, moving into a position where she could sit up whilst Charlene kept the covers wrapped around herself. They were fairly thin covers, and it wasn't a particularly warm cell, so she had to ensure they were as tight to her body as she could make them.
"Jenny…". She spoke the other girl's name, in a ponderous tone. "… can I ask ye something?"
"Sure".
"Did you have a fella before… ye know, ye were brought here?"
A sore subject for the young Joyce, she didn't answer at first. She desperately wanted a fella, but no one would seemingly have her. Her father's time was beginning to be spent in trying to find her one, having the most ideal suitor turn her down quite honestly earlier in the summer. He already had someone else, and much to her chagrin, that someone was Erin Quinn. Of all of the people that James Maguire could have decided to love, he went and gave his heart to her. She still hated it months later.
"I only ask…". Charlene continued. "… because I did, and I miss him".
"Wh-wh.. who's yer fella?" Jenny tentatively enquired.
"Ach ye wouldn't know him Jenny, he's from Newry".
"Oh right… anyway, n-no, I… I didn't have a fella".
"I bet ye had yer eye on someone though Jenny. I know what yer like ye know".
Blushing, Jenny did not see herself in the same mischievous way that Charlene saw her, but she did still have designs on the handsome young Englishman. The Englishman that was supposed to have slowly fallen in love with her after they first met, to live a life of quality where they would have brought up children together, heirs to the considerable fortune that they would amass as a couple.
"I…".
"It's alright Jenny, I won't tell". Charlene giggled.
Oh, but she would…
She would…
"Ye… ye know James?" Cacking in a Clare Devlin-esque way, Jenny finally let her guard down.
"The English fella?"
"Aye. Well he works at the bank ye know…".
"Works?" Charlene cut her off. "Ye mean worked, I heard he signed up to fight…"
"I don't think he's lost his job though…". Jenny paused to think, before shaking her head. "… well, he used to look after my Da's money. I saw him quite a bit when he first came over".
Hoping off the top bunk Charlene went to sit in the other corner, a short distance away from the lovely bucket that they called their toilet.
"Saw as in?"
Glowing bright red, Jenny absolutely did not mean that. She was saving herself like a good girl was supposed to… she wouldn't get up to such lewd behaviour as Charlene was suggesting.
"No, no way!" She protested vehemently. "I just thought he's so… handsome and he's quite wealthy, so he is, and daddy thought he'd be a good match too. But… James didn't think that way".
"Right…".
"Erin Quinn got in my way".
Charlene knew that, but Jenny didn't need to know that she did. To her it was a massive surprise that James and Erin were dating, she didn't know at all. Then again, no matter whether she knew or not, she still found Erin to be a very annoying young woman.
"We were at the dance after her cousin's wedding and I… I wanted James t-to… kiss me".
"Christ Jenny, ye sure ye weren't wantin' more!?"
Recognising it as a friendly jest, Jenny laughed off Charlene's insinuations. The memory of that night helped too; she was still furious about Erin's actions that followed her straddling the Englishman.
"Erin threw me on the floor and took him away from me…".
"Typical!" Charlene feigned a huff. "That girl has no respect for herself".
"Aye too right, she doesn't! Those Quinn's are low class, so they are, someone like Erin isn't meant to be with someone like James. But he made it quite… clear… that evening, that he didn't want to be with me".
"You still want him though?"
"He's the perfect match Charlene!" She almost shouted. "There doesn't even need to be that much love involved. He's mine, not hers. Erin belongs in the gutter, whoring herself out to any sad man who stops to listen to her pathetic poetry!"
Jenny's anger was rising. The rage, bottled for months, came out in the cell that morning, her eyes burning with invisible fire that Charlene could see. Erin Quinn was a self-righteous bitch at times, Charlene would even say so herself, but a common whore she was not. Jenny went too far there. Although she didn't know the Quinn family that well, Charlene knew that they had some standards, Orla being the very entertaining young woman that she was, standing out as an example.
"She wouldn't make much then". She snorted a joke, swallowing her discomfort with it.
"Too right. Her poetry is terrible. I remember Sister Michael used to hate it!" Jenny stated emphatically.
"Sister Michael hated everything to be fair Jenny". Charlene pointed out. "But with James, when yer out of here and when he gets back from the fightin', will ye snatch him back?"
"I tell ye Charlene, Erin will be writing a tragic romance when I'm finished with her. He will be mine!"
The two laughed at her statement, though to Jenny it wasn't really a laughing matter. James would be hers when the time was right and there was nothing that Erin Quinn, with her delusions of grandeur, could do about it.
She didn't realise she was talking herself into a trap. Charlene didn't even know she was setting one, but the information that James looked after Jenny's father's finances would be passed on to her contact. They probably would already know it, but it wouldn't harm them to know about it nor Jenny's defiant feelings for the Englishman either. After all, she'd been told to tell them everything… they would get everything.
Every last word…
"My god…".
Menzies rose from his seat, his cup of tea in hand. Miss Kavanagh had unknowingly done a brilliant job, but in doing so revealed the one outcome that they did not want. James Maguire could never, ever, be linked with the Nazi sympathising Professor Joyce and his family. If word of her affections for him, that could link the young man to the Professor, got out, they faced a dismal catastrophe to sort out. The hounds of the press could not start to turn over stones to find out more about him, for some stones buried details that could not be revealed to anyone. Even James himself. And perhaps more worryingly, the ones laying out in the open, the consequences of them falling into the hands of the general public being ones he could not ponder without feeling the urge to be physically sick.
"I don't know how you wish to proceed, Sir…".
"There is only one way Smithers…".
Menzies' tone was ominous, sending a chill down his spine. He didn't really need to ask what the plan was; any fool could have worked it out quite easily. James Maguire's importance went beyond anything he knew, despite not even fully knowing why he was so important. Inquisitive, there would only be one way to find out why the young pilot was being monitored so closely.
"If I might ask, Sir, w-".
"You may not ask Smithers!" He was sternly reprimanded. "This is on a need-to-know basis, and I am afraid, you do not need to know!".
"Very well, Lieutenant-Colonel, Sir".
Backing off, Smithers returned to his seat from where he'd been standing, whilst Menzies paced around behind him. A nervous Smithers was further perturbed by a Lieutenant-Colonel he'd never seen so agitated before, being known for his calm leadership rather than a chaotic one. The pressure of having, what must have felt like, spy rings coming out his ears all the time was no doubt overwhelming, but there was added pressure by James Maguire. The redacted file only told Smithers a little about the boy, basic facts like his height, weight, what school he went to and what activities he was known to enjoy. He'd been involved in cases where files were slightly redacted before, but James' file almost didn't need to exist, the detail was so well hidden within it.
"I am sorry Smithers, this is not a question of trust…". Menzies tried to explain as diplomatically as he could. "… but there a very few people who are allowed to know about this and believe me, I am at the very bottom of that pile".
"I… see sir". Smithers almost whispered, but understood quite clearly.
"The position we find ourselves in, is one which men of honour and respect for our fellow human beings such as ourselves never wish to be in…". Menzies continued to pace around. "… yet here we are. I have to make the call or risk the PM making the same call on me. When you get to my rank Captain, you have to be a cold bastard, even if you retain your conscience".
"Sir…". Smithers gulped.
The call was the easiest part as the decision was made from the moment Smithers relayed the details of what Charlene reported back to Emerald Two. There was no other way around what needed to be done, Jenny's affections were too much to be left to fester. In many ways, he felt sorry for her. She just wanted something she couldn't have, the extent of which being more than she could or would ever know.
"Get a message to Emerald Two… NOW!"
The shout and the clear hurried tone shocked Smithers, so he took out his pen and began to make notes immediately.
"Tell Emerald Two… that the guards will not need to worry, for Amazing Grace will never sound sweeter than after mass tomorrow".
Writing the, what to an outsider would consider, odd message, Smithers knew differently. There couldn't be a direct order in the most direct manner, on the off chance somebody discovered it, but Emerald Two would understand the message. They were hardly a rookie themselves.
"Yes, Sir".
"I do hope you understand Smithers. And that this is not an action that this country could, and ever should, take again".
"I… do understand, Sir".
"It makes us no better than the Nazi's…". Menzies sighed. "… but it has to be done".
"What do we do about the Professor, sir? Should he be… informed, afterwards".
The Professor was the other loose end, along with his wife, though her questioning was not as rough as her husband's, strongly unsuspected in any collusion herself. She was just a housewife of slightly good stock, one kept well in line by her husband, but not capable of acting as callously as he.
"Yes. He might be more… inclined… to give us information".
"Yes, Sir. I shall contact Emerald Two immediately".
"Good man Smithers, get to it".
A lovely morning it might have been outside, but a bleak atmosphere began to emerge from within the service's headquarters. Silencing people for love was not an act which he wished to be responsible before, but Menzies knew if he did not, he would have to answer to far higher authority than he could ever dream of having. Chamberlain might have been a bit soft to the general public following the failure of appeasement, but on the matter of James Maguire, no leader could afford such a gentle approach. They'd already held the conversation about the consequences when it came to him.
He would remain safely at Hendon for the time being. They would handle the rest.
Jenny was the only prisoner allowed to get to mass early that morning. Charlene and the rest of them would be joining her soon enough, the only chance she had of seeing any of the other girls held at the same prison. Their cell wasn't in solitary confinement, but it was away from all of the others, not being able to hear even the distant chatter of other prisoners.
She hadn't any sins to confess, but Jenny simply wished to talk to the priest so that she had someone else to converse with. Another friendly voice other than Charlene's… or the rather unfriendly voices of the guards who'd beaten her previously.
"IN!" One of the guards snapped, literally pushing her towards the pews.
She took up her spot near to the confession box. She could not see where the priest entered, barred off from her view. Familiar with the routine from the previous Sunday, Jenny knew that she would have to wait for the guard who stood on her side of the entry box to confirm that the priest was ready to see her. The guard that day was a man she hadn't seen before, a tall man whose hair was covered by a cap, though through the peeking out strands, she could make out that it was brown. His eyes remained firmly fixed on her, quite off putting when she thought he looked quite repulsive, but that was his job, she supposed.
"The priest will see ye now".
His snarl allowed her to rise from where she'd perched, walking calmly towards the entrance to the confessional box. It didn't feature a door, but rather a curtain, which hardly offered the silence that a private conversation with a priest should. The guard would move away once she was inside though, giving her the peace of mind to discuss whatever she wished with the man of god. She wished not to confess sins, but of her wish to have an English Pilot as a husband and her wish that God thought the same for her.
Kneeling down inside, the guard closed the curtain behind her. Composing herself, she closed her eyes, not glancing up to look the father in the eye but knowing from the breathing on the other side that he was there.
"Father, forgive me, for I have not come to confess any sins…".
There was silence from him, which she took to mean that he was happy for her to continue. God's blessing truly was with her, to have such a father of understanding there to guide her path, in the absence of her biological one.
"I want to know what the Lord thinks of me, for wanting to be with a man who is trapped by the wrong woman…".
Still nothing.
"Father…".
"Father…".
Jenny was mightily confused, her brows furrowing whilst her eyes remained closed. The father's silence that she'd previously believed to be through understanding, she now worried was through shame. He must have been ashamed that she thought of another woman so poorly. The other woman was Erin Quinn though, and her ticket to hell was surely guaranteed, being such a lowly commoner.
Only then did she look up.
Only then did she realise that the father wasn't there, and the breath belonged to someone else… another woman…
"Ch-…Ch-Charlene?"
Jenny was petrified by her presence on the other side of the box. She was meant to be a prisoner with her… she must have fought the guards to get in there... Unless…
"I'm sorry Jenny".
There was little time to think before the giant hand came across her face. She only just registered the sound of the curtain swishing open, the ugly bastard of a guard that had seen her in, coming back for her. A lack of ability to react was fatal in the situation, though his strength would have made any possible action futile anyway.
The knife went across her neck immediately, severing her jugular, whilst everything visible to her went either dark or red. Blood poured out as she choked for air, sprayed around the floor in the tight space of the confessional box, even up to the divide where the priest, or in her case Charlene, sat. The young Kavanagh girl was long gone. As were Jenny's hopes of remaining alive when she'd professed how much she believed James Maguire should be hers.
"I…".
"H…".
"A.. I… He-".
The final coughs and splutters of Jenny Joyce's life fell from her lips, whilst the crimson ocean drained from her slit neck. Derry would no longer have to endure her poor singing, the lesser of the two crimes she'd committed. Crimes which were not ones that carried the death penalty, but the parameters of where they found themselves unfortunately changed that when it came to her lust for James.
Amazing Grace no longer sounded sweet, instead sounding akin to a bloodcurdling rasp as her last energies ran out.
Jenny Joyce's lifeless corpse slumped to the floor.
When the message was received on the Sunday evening, Menzies and Smithers could breathe sighs of relief, though their guts rumbled from horror from what had to be done.
But that was just it… it had to be done.
It was all quiet on the Home Front again.