Chapter 22: Lonely December 1939
Doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden was on his way to Poland. Lyla spent the early morning with him, having sex with him one final time before he left to do what he claimed was his duty, and what she believed was genocide. A genocide that the Government she worked for refused to allow her to investigate any further, not caring for the lives that would be lost by allowing it to proceed. Kurt was excited to be able to oversee the final stages of his barbaric project, chillingly happy to be able to exterminate people without considering that they were human, just like him. The belief of the Nazi's superiority over everyone else clouded the sensible truth; that he, nor Adolf Hitler… nor any of them, were superior to anyone else in the world. So lost in the lies, Kurt could not see it and without risking her own cover, she could not expose him to the truth of the situation. Instead, she played along, crying her eyes out as he left for the car that would be taking him on the long journey. He might have taken his link to the German High Command with him, but morally, she was delighted to not have to spend any more time with the despicable man. Her tears were for those she could not save. At least not for the foreseeable future.
By late morning, following a wash to cleanse herself from the smell of him, butterflies began to grow in the stomach of Lyla Walsh. Lieutenant Hartmann, somewhat reluctantly from what Kurt had told her, agreed that he would stay at the offices permanently. The young man himself knew the danger of being in her proximity for too long but did not reveal a thing to Kurt, who reminded him of his duty to the Doctor. With duty thrown back in his face, the Lieutenant backed down and would ensure that Lyla was well looked after in his absence.
Hearing a knock on the door, she raced over to it, the nerves bubbling over. Hans Hartmann was about to be living with her permanently… and they had a lot of talking to do.
"Guten Morgen, Frau Walsh." He greeted, with the voice of a soldier and not of the friend she hoped for.
("Good Morning Miss Walsh".)
"Guten Morgen, Hans". She smiled, moving to allow him to enter the offices. "Was habe ich dir doch darüber gesagt, mich mit dem Vornamen anzusprechen?"
("Good Morning Hans. What have I told you about calling me Lyla?")
Hostility was in the air and she hated it. He'd already arrived with a game plan, it seemed, to avoid being friendly to her in any way that was more than necessary. She was not going to stand for it.
"Ich würde es vorziehen, Sie mit dem Nachnamen anzusprechen, Frau Walsh."
("I would prefer to refer to you by your title, Miss Walsh".)
"Hans, bitte, wir sind noch Freunde, oder?"
("Hans please, we are still friends, are we not?")
The Lieutenant did not reply immediately, opting to move over to the sofa, where he placed his belongings that he'd brought with him for the stay. He would have to return to his regiment's barracks from time to time, where the majority of the rest of his possessions were kept, but his more precious valuables would be kept at the offices in the spare room where Kurt declared he would be able to sleep during his stay.
"Wir sind nicht Freunde?"
("We are not friends?")
Panicking from his lack of reply, her acting skills suddenly began to flounder, the question being blurted out before she'd truly thought about what she was going to say. He did not seem to notice though, rubbing at his eyes while evidently trying to come up with a measured response to her continued probing into where they stood. Neither quite knew what the other one wanted from them but the Lieutenant's belief in his duty and the principles that guided him, won the battle against his heart that bellowed at him to ignore them.
"Ich bin lediglich ein Freund von Kurt da Sie seine Lebenspartnerin sind, Frau Walsh."
("I am merely Kurt's friend as you are his partner, Miss Walsh".)
The response truly angered her. Not only was he still failing to address her by her first name but was also attempting to avoid truly answering her question. He did not want to admit to being her friend, an act of cowardice that enraged her. She put up with Kurt on a daily basis for months, but less than a minute into her conversation with the Lieutenant, her guard was down, destroyed by her emotions that wreaked havoc within.
"Kurt würde es nicht gefallen, wenn wir nicht Freunde wären!" She shouted at him, her brows furrowed.
("Kurt would not like it if we were not friends!")
"Kurt würde es nicht gefallen, wenn er herausfinden würde, dass wir geküsst hatten."
("Kurt would not like it if he found out that we had kissed!")
Hartmann stunned her with his reply. Yelling back at her, he silenced the room, watching as her lip quivered from his shout. He was half her age, yet his shout genuinely frightened her, rarely seeing the young man become so agitated, especially with the element of grieving over his dead brother taken away. It appeared to stun him too, staring at her and assessing the damage he'd done by raising his voice in the manner he had. Lieutenant Hartmann, rapidly coming to the conclusion that it was going to be a very long few months, grumbled to himself about the position he was in. One which would seem like a dream to many young men his age, but one which was a nightmare to him.
"Das ist ein guter Punkt, Hans." She mumbled.
("You raise a fair point, Hans".)
"Können wir bitte nun nicht darüber reden, Frau Walsh". He bitterly dismissed her. "Ich werde meine Sachen im Gästezimmer auspacken."
("Can we not talk about that now please, Miss Walsh. I shall unpack my belongings in the spare room".)
Nodding at him, Lyla wanted to cry. The last thing she anticipated was almost a fully blown argument with the young man she adored so very much. He was building himself a fortress around his own emotions and in her attempts to breach the walls, he'd pushed the ladder she'd extended up to him, back down to the ground. A pain she hadn't felt in a long time crept up on the brave Irishwoman. One which she'd prayed would never come back after the last time it had reared its ugly head.
An hour passed where they didn't speak to each other. For part of that hour there was a fair excuse though, as the Lieutenant went back to the barracks to eat, not wanting to spend lunchtime sat with her. She didn't need him to tell her that to know why, as the young man knew well enough that there was enough food at the offices for the two of them. No, he was doing his best to put distance between them when all she wanted was him to be close by, to be able to talk to. She hadn't really been lucky enough to have anyone like that for a while. Kurt was not that sort of man, if he was actually a man at all and not the grotesque slithering creature that her head began to paint him as. The last man that was like Hans… was him.
"Ich überlege mir, wo sich Kurt jetzt befindet."
("I wonder where Kurt is now".)
Finding it excruciatingly difficult to hold her tongue, when the air was finally filled with words again, they were hers. Lieutenant Hartmann, with no duty to perform other than to simply watch over her and provide safety to her if it was needed, found himself in Kurt's favourite position. Stood over by the window, looking out across the street outside, where a few men were stood talking to each other before heading back to their jobs following their lunch break.
"Ich glaube nicht, dass er bereits auf dem Lager angekommen sein wird." He replied, not looking back to make eye contact with her.
("I do not think he will have made it to the camp yet".)
"Hat er dir viel darüber gesagt, was er machen wird?" She asked, curious to find out how loose with the details Kurt had actually been.
("Did he tell you much about what he will be doing?")
"Er hat mir nichts gesagt und ich glaube, es wäre nicht richtig, wenn er uns erzählt hätte. Seine Mission ist eine private für den Führer."
("He has said nothing to me and I do not think it would be right if he had. His mission is a private one for The Führer".)
"Ja klar." She replied stoically."Ich wünsche mir einfach, dass er uns mindestens erzählt hätte, wenn er in direkter Gefahr wäre."
("Quite right. I just wish he would have at least told us if he were to be in any direct danger".)
Lying to Hans hurt a lot more than it did when she lied to Kurt. To an outsider, it would be most odd to know that she found lying to a man about how she felt about him, amongst other things, was easier than lying to his young protégé about the exact same thing. She could only hope that the young man did not see through the clouded web of betrayal she'd erected around her relationship with Kurt or if he did, would be kind enough not to say anything. To understand why. Although knowing his views on the war, that was not a hope which came with much conviction.
"Machen Sie sich keine Sorgen, Frau Walsh. Ich habe Ihnen schon vorher gesagt, dass die Polen uns unterlegen sind. Die können Kurt nicht verletzten."
("Do not worry, Miss Walsh. I have said to you before, the Polish are inferior to us. They cannot harm Kurt".)
Worry about Kurt's safety, she would not, but worrying about the extent of how far Hans had been brainwashed, she would. He was almost the perfect young Nazi, especially with his blonde hair and blue eyes that the German High Command deemed the most desirable traits. The ideology was so richly engrained in him, that he could have almost sang their manifesto off by heart. The horrendous hatred that he believed in was one which she could not abide by, and therefore decided not to comment on.
It left Hans to continue their tense conversation, albeit not for another few minutes.
"Vielen Dank, dass Sie zur Beerdigung von Karl gekommen sind." He spoke sincerely when he did.
("Thank you for coming to Karl's funeral".)
The funeral was not a grand affair. Hans was proven right about one thing on the day, his parents not uttering a single word to him and only glaring. For whatever ludicrous reason, they hated their second son, a hatred that only grew seeing him alive whilst their first son lay dead somewhere in a hastily dug grave around the Bzura River. Kurt was the more helpful of the two of them, holding the Lieutenant as he cried once his parents departed. He knew he would never see them again, as she and Kurt did as they watched the Hartmann family drama unravel around them.
"Du musst dich nicht bei mir bedanken". She smiled, meeting his eyes as he turned to look at her. "Es ist nett, dass wir zusammen reden können."
("You do not need to thank me. It is nice that we can talk together".)
Daring to say it, she fluttered her eyelashes slightly, hoping to garner some form of response or a reaction from him. And she did. Shifting awkwardly, he replied.
"Ja. Das ist es schön."
("Yes. Yes it is".)
His voice was barely above a murmur as the tension began to build between them, a thick soup of unspoken feelings stirred.
"Wir haben seit ein paar Wochen nicht wirklich geredet."
("We have not spoken properly for a few weeks".)
"Das weiß ich schon."
("I know we have not".)
Without realising or meaning to, they'd both began to walk towards each other, coming to their senses when they were barely a metre apart. She could feel her body responding to him stepping even closer… where she could address him properly.
"Hans, es tut mir leid wegen…"
("Hans, I am sorry for…".)
"Nein, Frau Walsh...Lyla.". He interrupted vigorously, only to stop and correct himself a second later. "Bitte, erlaube mir, mich bei dir zu entschuldigen. Ich habe mich an diesem Tag schlecht verhalten."
("No, Miss Walsh… Lyla. Please, allow me to apologise. I acted poorly that day".)
"Du warst im Trauerprozess, Hans." She responded calmly, sympathising with him.
("You were grieving, Hans".)
"Das ist keine Ausrede. Du bist Kurts Freundin, und ich habe gegen sein Vetrauen in mir gestoßen sowie die Grenzen meiner Freundschaft zu dir."
("That is no excuse. You are Kurt's partner, and I violated the trust he has placed in me as well as the bounds of my friendship with you".)
"Gegen dieses Vertrauen habe ich auch gestoßen, Hans. Ich wollte dich genauso viel küssen wie du mich!"
("I violated that trust too, Hans. I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss me!".)
Blindsided by her feelings for him, the Lieutenant took a step backwards. His own feelings for the kind-hearted Irishwoman that his mentor luckily had for himself, grew beyond an acceptable level that day, mixing with his grieving heart to tell him to act upon them. Trying to mostly ignore her since, he'd never realised that the feelings were quite as well reciprocated as she'd suddenly proclaimed them to be.
Looking up, she'd moved towards him again and this time their bodies were nearly pressing into each other. The same thoughts and feelings as before tried to rush through his mind, showing him the easy option of caving in. Caving in would mean tasting her again, a taste so sweet that he would never be able to stop if he submitted again. He could not do it.
"Lyla, wir können nicht zusammen sein…"
("Lyla, we cannot be together…".)
Full of surprises, it was her turn to move away from him. On that day, she'd acted upon her feelings in the belief that she understood what they were telling her. She was wrong though. Years of experience told her to reflect upon what had happened a few days, and through that reflection she realised she was wrong.
"Das schlage ich nicht vor. Ich denke jetzt seit Wochen darüber, was passiert ist, wie ich mich geschämt habe, dass nicht es nicht verhindert habe, was stattgefunden ist." She explained.
("I am not suggesting that we should be. I have thought about what happened for weeks now, how ashamed I was with myself for not stopping what took place".)
"Die gleiche Scham hat mich auch verfolgt, Lyla." Hans admitted.
("The same shame has haunted me, Lyla".)
"Du bist ein sehr hübscher junger Mann, Hans. Ich leugne es nicht, dass ich etwas Starkes für dich empfinde, aber mir ist klar geworden….es handelt sich nicht um Liebe."
("You are a very handsome young man, Hans. I will not deny that I feel strongly for you, but I have realised that the feeling… it is not love".)
"Ich...was meinst du?"
("I… what do you mean?")
Stunned by her again, Lieutenant Hartmann could not believe what he was hearing.
It was not love…
She did not have those feelings… but what where they then…
"Wenn ich dich ansehe, Hans, Ich sehe meinen eigenen Sohn...aber mehrere Jahre ölter."
("When I look at you, Hans, I see my own son… only years older".)
Hans quickly realised what she meant. Her feelings for him were not ones of the kind of love shared between lovers, but those between a mother and her son. He brought out her sense of motherhood. At least that is what he understood. He did not know of the lies she was yet again weaving to him about her past, about the deceased son that was in fact still alive and well back home.
"Das muss...dich beunruhigen?"
("That must… trouble you?")
"Nein, es beunruhigt mich nicht. Du bist aus meiner Sicht eine Vision der Schönheit. Als ob mein Sohn durch dich weiterlebt." The lies continued.
("No, it does not trouble me. You are a vision of beauty in my eyes. As if my son somehow lives on through you".)
"Ich wäre ein schlechter Sohn." He chuckled to himself.
("I would be a poor son".)
She hated it when he did that… self-deprecated. Never one to leave the halls of modesty, she wished he held more respect for himself, appreciating his own brilliance. He was a remarkable young man in many ways to her.
"Nein, Hans! Wenn ich dich adoptieren könnte, dann würde ich. Du bist das perfekte Kind, das sich jedes Elternteil wünschen dürfte."
("No Hans! If I could adopt you, then I would. You are the perfect child that any parent could wish for".)
"Du schmeichelst mich, Lyla." Replying shyly, he blushed profusely.
("You flatter me, Lyla".)
"Ich bin Ernst!" She protested. "Du machst dem Hartmann Namen alle Ehre."
("I am serious. You are a credit to the Hartmann name".)
His parents might not have agreed with her comment, but she no longer cared what they might think. She'd seen enough at Karl's funeral to know that they were not the right people for a young man like Hans to spend any more time than he needed to with. He was a credit to his family, even if she did not agree with his views. He'd been indoctrinated with it for years, diseased with the virus that was Nazi disinformation about the world they lived in. Although Hitler might have been able to get into his mind, he'd shown her the door to be able to as well. No matter how hard she might believe it to be, Lyla knew deep down that she could change his mind on the world slowly. To stop him from becoming the next Adolf Hitler or Kurt Van Der Heijden.
"Darf ich davon ausgehen, dass wir wieder Freunde sind." She asked.
("Can I assume that we are friends again?")
"Wir waren niemals alles andere als Freunde, Lyla. Das waren wir seit immer."
("We were never anything but friends, Lyla. We always have been".)
Pulling the Lieutenant into an embrace, the previously treacle-like air of tension evaporated. She wanted to be his friend, almost his surrogate mother. And he wanted to be hers, a companion that she could talk to with the added benefit of being able to confide in her about his fears. Like how a mother should listen to her son, especially in the absence of a father. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting away, with nothing else to do, Kurt's paperwork not needing to be completed and with him leaving for Poland, less needing to be done anyway. The Doctor's funds were plentiful, negating her need to find any other employment. She would be able to have an easy life whilst spying on the German High Command, though she would never be foolish enough to become comfortable in it.
"Die Zeit! Ich muss anfangen, uns eine Mahlzeit zu vorbereiten."
("The time! I must begin making us something to eat!")
Looking up at the clock, it was seven o'clock out of absolutely nowhere. Neither could explain where the time had gone that afternoon.
"Setz dich bitte hin, Lyla. Ich koche uns heute Abend das Essen."
("Sit down, Lyla. I shall make dinner this evening".)
"Nein, Hans, ich sollte das machen." She scoffed.
("No Hans, I should do it".)
"Lyla, bitte". He insisted, placing his hand on her wrist. "Erlaube mir, dir ein Essen zu spendieren."
("Lyla, please. Allow me to treat you".)
"Na ja...du bist ein sehr guter Koch."
("Well… you are a very good cook".)
Cook for her, he did, preparing a lovely fish dish at very short notice. A young girl, a good young Irish girl in her head, would be very lucky to have a man like Hans who could cook. She knew there were men out there that could, she'd made it very clear to him, that cooking was an essential way to win over a woman's heart, but many men did not want to hear it. A handsome face and a well-toned body were equally good features, but nothing could set her heart racing like a man who knew his way around preparing a three-course meal.
"Danke dir für den Wein, Lyla, aber es wird spät. Ich muss morgen um neun Uhr beim Kommandanten meines Regimes melden."
("Thank you for the wine, Lyla, but it is getting late. I must report to my regiment's commander at nine tomorrow".)
"Unser Gespräch war ganz angenehm, Hans. Gute Nacht."
("Our conversation has been most welcome, Hans. Goodnight".)
"Gute Nacht, Lyla."
("Goodnight Lyla".)
He leant in, placing a kiss on her cheek. If he'd done that weeks before, she'd have literally had the shirt off of his back, right there on the sofa. But instead, her motherly feelings for him out in the open, she felt contented by the kiss on the cheek and his solid presence by her side.
She was looking forward to spending a year with just Lieutenant Hartmann for company.
They were coming home.
After a few months away, the boys were coming home to them.
James was coming home to her. Her wee English Prince that she missed so… so much.
The letter that told her was a few weeks old, but Erin still read it every single day. The more she looked at his perfect handwriting spelling out the message, the further her longing for him seemed to grow. They needed to have a talk when he returned, but before any of that, she wanted him to hold her, to make her feel safe in his arms. She'd missed being within them. Where she belonged.
"Look who's daydreamin' again…".
It was just after lunchtime on Friday when Michelle made the comment. They were quiet for once, with the need for shirts being made beginning to drop off due to the lack of fighting. The armed forces were well stocked with clothing provisions and with no large-scale land fighting of note so far, replacements were not needed.
"Aye… sorry". Erin apologised, turning her attention to her friends.
"Don't be". Michelle replied sweetly. "Ach, I know yer lookin' forward to him coming home, like".
Michelle could understand her excitement as to some extent, she was to. Like Erin, she needed to talk to James, though the conversation with her cousin would be vastly different. There were apologises to be made from her side towards him, the same ones she'd apologised for in writing in her letter to him. Her foul attitude towards him when he left, would not be repeated once he returned home, even if only for a few days.
"Have ye got any plans for what ye might do, Erin?" Clare asked.
"No… no I just…". Erin started, sighing as she thought of him again. "… I just want to be with him, that's all. I'm not bothered about what we do".
"I reckon I might know…".
Michelle's devilish grin and nudge in her side indicated to Erin what she meant. Heat rose in her cheeks at the insinuation, although she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about it herself. Lying immensely… she'd thought about it a lot.
"Michelle!"
Reprimanded by Clare, the young Mallon didn't really care that her friend thought she was being crass. Even though she didn't really want to think that about her cousin getting up to activity of that nature, she would not be cross if he engaged in it with Erin. After all, they were madly in love with each other, and it was only natural that they show it in the most passionate way possible. Not in front of her though. Or anyone for that matter.
"When do ye think it will all be over?"
Full of questions, Clare sought her friends' opinions on the war. They didn't speak of the conflict too often, normally being a subject that would trigger Erin's foul moods but given her glee from knowing she would see James soon, she was more approachable. Their lives were mostly untouched by the horrors of the war, which was still a conflict that mostly existed in mainland Europe. The seas were seeing plenty of action though, the Royal Navy kept on their toes by the Kriegsmarine, especially the deadly U-Boats. The submarines that were always waiting for any unsuspecting ships, whether they be merchant or Navy, ready to sink their targets with a frightening accuracy. But for James and David, the war was yet to truly begin.
"Soon". Erin replied hopefully. "Hopefully in a couple of months because I want my James back".
Rolling her eyes, Michelle couldn't share her optimism. The further it went on without any fighting, the more and more she was becoming convinced that it would be years until the conflict would be declared over and their lives returned to the normal that existed before. Lives where the threat of the Nazi Regime was not quite as imminent as it was in the final months of the year.
"Years. It'll be years". She dejectedly replied.
"Ach come on Michelle!" Erin chided her. "It won't be that long!"
"It will".
"I agree with Erin…". Clare added. "… I mean, they aren't even fightin'… it might even be over next week!"
Clare was far too optimistic, even for Erin, who would rejoice at the war finishing within a week, as once James came home, he would never go away again. The Nazi's would have to be eliminated before that could happen though, and by the looks of it, that was not going to happen before the end of the year.
"Look, I know it's hard to believe but I mean it. I reckon it'll be…". She stopped, trying to pull the date from her mind. "… May forty-five".
"May forty-five!?" Erin almost screamed.
"I was being serious Michelle…". Clare grumbled.
"So am I!"
"No yer not".
Erin scoffed at Michelle's insistence that her view was a serious one. There was no way that the war, which was barely even a war for the boys, would last for over five more years. The Nazi's would surrender by then after the kicking they would face from James, David and the rest of the armed forces, as well as the French.
"For fuck's sake, I am being serious!"
"And I suppose ye think we both came up the Foyle in a bubble!" Erin, angered, responded.
"Sometimes I do wonder…".
"That's enough!"
For once, Clare's mediation actually worked. Preventing any further sniping between her friends, the diminutive blonde ensured that they returned to the little work they had to do. Work was the key though, as it kept the other two focused and away from thoughts about the war, ones she'd stupidly decided to entice.
Still, James and David would be home in another week or so, and that would at least keep Erin happy for a few days. And if they were lucky, beyond.
Luck had a strange way of deserting them though…
A few days later…
Captain Smithers reported to London for one last time before the end of the year. Or at least what he hoped would be the last time. Christmas was just a few days away and though it would be a muted time for many, with sons away preparing for the fighting that was still yet to come, it was a still a special time of year. A time he could spend with his own family, who were seeing less and less of him as his standing grew within the service. Of course the war wouldn't cease to allow for the festivities to be observed, but he could at least allow himself to relax slightly, knowing that any action was unlikely on the current side of the year.
Meetings with Lieutenant Colonel Menzies were becoming more straight forward. Growing accustomed to being present in his commanding officer's office, he was more confident in his presentations to him. The meetings after both Jenny Joyce's death and her father's were particularly smooth ones, the two men relieved that the loose ends were tied up as quietly and efficiently as they had been. It meant the Lieutenant Colonel could sleep easier at night, knowing that his aim of ensuring the safety of young Lieutenant James Maguire became far simpler. Smithers himself still did not know why the boy was so important, but he dared not question it any further, understanding the extent of how far up the chain of command the boy's safety was known and observed. If the PM could become involved in an instant, then the young officer was very special indeed.
Then again, not everything went so smoothly under his watch. It was not his fault, but Emerald One's information was beginning to dry up. Doctor Van Der Heijden, who she'd gained the trust of, left for Poland, and from what he could decipher from her coded message, he was not going to be returning for some time. With no accessible link to the German High Command, she was relegated to keeping an eye on the other agents they had within Berlin. The task didn't come without its own risks, especially as it would involve meeting with the other agents on occasions, but it was not as lucrative as having Adolf Hitler's thoughts almost given to them. Trying to envisage the next move by the German Military was almost impossible without her information, leaving military planners on the British side to educated guesses. France was the logical move with Russia sworn not to trouble the Nazi regime, and the Russians themselves were far too busy engaging in a winter war with the Finnish, who were putting up a staggering resistance to their invaders. But without Lyla's information, they couldn't be sure what the Nazi's might do next… or when.
"Good morning Smithers". Menzies addressed him, returning to his own office.
"Good morning Sir". Smithers replied respectfully. "I trust your meeting went well?"
"As well as any meeting with our PM could go, Smithers. I digress, I am relieved that it will be my last one with him for a good few days".
The two men chuckled. Menzies rarely spoke of his superior in such ungentlemanly terms, but meetings with Neville Chamberlain could really bring out the melancholy in him. They would never argue in them, but the aging leader of the country did not always understand what the Intelligence Chief was telling him, which only frustrated Menzies. He preferred meeting with Smithers, not only being the superior in the situation, but enjoying the younger Captain's conversation far more than the Prime Minister's.
"Would you like a drink Smithers?"
"Just a cup of tea, Sir".
Calling his secretary, the Lieutenant Colonel asked her to make him one too, as he was parched. The two men tucked into their cups of tea happily once she'd returned, enjoying the sensation of a good brew on a winter's day. As much as they were enjoying the tea, which was even graced with the presence of a couple of biscuits, their meeting needed to commence. Menzies had another two before he would consider finishing for the day, although a man in his position's day was never truly over.
"Right then Smithers, where shall we start?"
Menzies opened the meeting, but for once the Captain stayed in his seat, instead of heading over to the board on the other side of the room.
"We need to discuss Emerald One's role in Berlin, Sir".
"Ah yes. Our favourite leaky Doctor has been moved on and we no longer have any information that is worthwhile. It is most distressing Captain". Menzies explained, sipping his tea once more.
"I agree, sir. I fear we cannot remove her from the assignment. Her cover is too deep".
Nodding his head in agreement, a frustrated look ran across Menzies' face. In an ideal world, he'd be able to pull her out of Berlin, to be engaged in acts of intelligence gathering elsewhere, but Smithers was right. Her cover as the Doctor's partner was too deep to simply blow overnight and if he returned, the opportunities to gather information would again become plentiful. She had to stay exactly where she was.
"What do you propose Captain?"
"She continues to facilitate the intelligence gathering efforts of our other operatives and I think we should allow that to continue…". Smithers made his first point, Menzies again nodding in agreement. "… but I feel she could be deployed to monitor troop movements too".
"Monitor troop movements?" Menzies raised his eyebrow.
"Yes, Sir. From the map of Berlin that we have acquired, the Doctor's offices have a convenient location to spot the movement of troops, as they all march past on their various ways out of the city".
Sitting up straighter in his seat, Menzies took in the information. Whilst there were no active battles on the ground between British and German forces, there could be at any moment depending on German ambitions. Being able to find out how many troops were heading in as reserves from the Capital was a prospect that they couldn't completely ignore. An additional scrap of information that could allow for superior planning in ground offensives.
"Excellent idea Smithers. Proceed with your plan but tell her to be careful with what she reports. We don't need to know about every single hero's parade on Berlin's streets!"
"Of course, Sir".
"Good".
Captain Smithers took down notes for what he would be passing on to Lyla later on. His idea being accepted by the Lieutenant Colonel pleased him greatly, hopefully upping the man's opinion of him too.
"What of young Lieutenant Maguire, Smithers?" Menzies moved the conversation onto James.
"He is well, Sir. His new squadron seems to be the perfect fit for him and from what I can gather through reports, he is highly regarded by the men at his command".
"I am glad he is. For the trouble it is worth to protect him, it would have been a terrible shame to find out he was a detestable bastard".
Chuckling at the description of James, Smithers was quickly shut down with a stare from Menzies. For whatever reason, even laughing at the young Lieutenant appeared to be worthy of a death sentence, with Smithers clearing his throat to remove the nerves within after the stare. Despite being the one responsible for calling the boy a bastard, the Lieutenant Colonel could not allow the Captain to believe it acceptable to laugh at it. He was lucky that he wasn't in higher company when the comment was made…
"The whole squadron has received leave for Christmas, Sir. He will be returning to Derry on Christmas Eve, I believe".
"Well they aren't doing much else are they?" Menzies huffed.
Smithers shook his head.
"They've been engaged on routine convoy escort duty since forming. There has yet to be a single incident reported by any of the crews from the Squadron".
"A comfortable war for him then. Far from danger".
"That is the aim, is it not, Sir?"
It was not a forward question about the truth behind James Maguire, but Smithers left the hint within his enquiry intentionally. Keeping James away from danger would be the logical viewpoint, but it was Menzies who continued to push to ensure that the 815 Naval Air Squadron would be assigned to the HMS Illustrious upon the carrier being ready, and therefore placing him into the thick of any action that was to come. That certainly wouldn't be keeping the young Lieutenant safe, quite the opposite. Smithers was not an aviator but flying an obsolete old biplane into battle against the German forces struck him as one of the most dangerous tasks a pilot could face.
"The aim is not as straightforward as that Captain, but as you know, those details remain with me and only those above me who know".
"Understood, Sir".
The air was tense around them, not for the first time when discussing the Lieutenant. Smithers would get nothing out of his superior. Nothing at all.
"Does he have anyone to go back to? A special someone?"
"He does, Sir". Smithers replied with a smile, opening his folder to try to find the name. "Ah yes, a Miss Erin Josephine Quinn".
"Fraternising with the locals!". Menzies laughed. "That is brave of an Englishman on Irish shores".
Laughing along with him, Smithers couldn't help but agree with his commanding officer. An Englishman finding a woman to love him in Ireland was difficult. It appeared to him that the young Lieutenant was quite the charmer indeed. Though neither of them knew the extent of just how strongly that charm rubbed off on the young woman.
"What do we know about her?" Menzies continued, having calmed down once more.
"Emerald Two has been able to provide us extensive knowledge on her, Sir. As far as I can tell, beyond what they've reported back to be some of the worst poetry ever written, she is harmless".
"Harmless except when with the pen?"
"It would appear so, Sir".
Erin would be devastated to find out that the British Government's Intelligence Service were aware of her poetry and of how terrible it was. She would of course never know and for everyone around her, it would be a blessing in disguise that they would not know that they had even received. Smithers decided to leave out the extract that Emerald Two reported too, as even reading it he felt the irrational urge to rip the paper up and throw it away. He could admire pleasant poetry; Erin's certainly was not.
"The girl involved with Miss Joyce's… removal. What was her name again?"
"Charlene Kavanagh, Sir". Smithers answered promptly.
"Yes, Miss Kavanagh…". Menzies accepted the information, stroking his chin as he formulated a plan. "… have Miss Kavanagh keep a close on this Miss Quinn. I want to know more about her, to assess whether it is appropriate that she continue in a relationship with our Lieutenant Maguire".
"I could allow Emerald Two to continue?"
"No. No, I fear we would not get the truest picture from someone who is not her age. Emerald Two will keep a close eye though. They've proven themselves to be the best we have again with everything that happened with the Professor".
Writing down notes for a second time, Smithers would now be spending the rest of the day in conversation with his agents from the Emerald Isle. Charlene proved herself to be valuable in assisting with Jenny Joyce and he'd asked Emerald Two to keep her close by, should she be needed again. Whether Emerald Two would approve of the plan to have her watch over Miss Quinn was a discussion he wasn't looking forward to, no doubt the operative wishing to carry out their own surveillance on her. They'd gone into great detail about Erin in their report to Smithers, with the information regarding her poetry noted as well as her tendency to become very moody since James left to sign up.
"There is little else to report, Sir". Smithers spoke up after a minute or two. "It would seem we have no further loose ends to tie up when it comes to Lieutenant Maguire".
"Not yet, Smithers, not yet. If this Miss Quinn is not adequate, then she will become one".
"You mean?" A slightly stunned Smithers enquired.
"Yes. She will share the fate Miss Joyce suffered too. As much as I would not want to go to that extreme, we would not be able to risk whatever she may know about him".
An end that Smithers nor Menzies truly wanted, Erin Quinn would need to be eliminated too should she not be suitable. The need to judge her adequacy to be his partner eluded the Captain, like all of the secrecy surrounding James, and after Jenny's death, he hoped no more young Irish women would have to die for loving the Lieutenant. Yet it would appear that it would have to be that way if Miss Quinn was not the right woman for James, due to the apparent importance of the officer. Emerald Two would not want to see another young Irish woman dead via British hands either.
"That will be all then, Sir".
Smithers rose from his seat in the office, walking over to the stand to retrieve his coat. The bitter chill in the air meant even the cramped streets of inner-city London were savagely freezing during the day, becoming worse again later on in the afternoon. An afternoon and early evening of contacting his two prize agents was in store, with new instructions for them both. He doubted either would be easy ones to put across, though the one to Lyla in Germany, hidden within layers of code, was perhaps the easier of the two. At least there would be no backlash from her, despite how boring her new assignment would be to conduct.
"There is one more thing Smithers!" Menzies called out as the Captain reached for the door.
"Sir?" Brows furrowed, Smithers replied.
"Merry Christmas".
"Merry Christmas to you too, Sir".
Strolling out of his commanding officer's office with a smile on his face, Captain Smithers began the journey home to continue his work in service to the crown. In Berlin, Emerald One continued hers and in Derry, Emerald Two continued their work as well, soon to be assisted by Charlene once again.
Christmas may have been quieter, but in essence, it was the calm before the storm…
Christmas Eve…
A hive of activity was the usual way to describe the Quinn house, except during the time of Erin's wee illness, but Christmas Eve was a different level entirely. The whole family, minus Colm, who was only invited on Christmas Day only out of necessity, were gathered together in the afternoon. It was the usual routine for Christmas but with an additional layer of importance to it, with the boys set to arrive home at any minute. They'd told the girls not to wait for them by the train station, as they would be flying in rather than taking the train from Belfast. It was a good job too, as the icy weather made any trip outside perilous and quite unbearable.
"What are you reading?"
Joe enquired with his son in-law, who was sat on the floor of the living room, Anna snuggled into his side. Gerry enjoyed a few minutes reading to himself, enjoying them even more when Joe wasn't around to pick up on everything he did or anything he said to anyone.
"Einstein's theory of relativity…". Gerry responded. "… it is quite the intellectual read if you want to borrow it after me Joe".
Snorting, Joe certainly wouldn't be taking Gerry up on the offer. He wouldn't borrow a book if the southern shite's filthy paws had been all over it, fearing the disease of complete idiocy would envelope him if he did. He also held little interest in scientific theories, not willing to take the time to properly understand them and, in some cases, not being able to understand them. Not that he would be admitting that to the son in-law he loathed considerably, who would no doubt attempt one of his wise comments to garner favour within the house. Eejit.
"I have a theory of relativity for ye".
"Ach right, and what would that be Joe?"
Gerry tensed, bracing for the inevitable deluge of insults that were likely to be thrown his way. It might have been the season to be jolly, but it could have been a season unending, and Joe would still be as harsh to him as ever.
"Yer a relative of mine and I think yer a prick".
Closing his eyes in a wince, Gerry's belief that he would be insulted came true as it always did. He had to give Joe credit for being creative with the insult, not that it hurt him any less.
"Thank you for that Joe…".
Victory achieved, the patriarch removed himself from the living room, heading into the kitchen to talk to Mary and Sarah, who were busy preparing something to eat for them all. They would all be heading off to church later on that evening, another part of the family tradition, to celebrate the festive season properly. Observing the religious elements of Christmas was a must for them, though not to the extent that they did at the Devlin house. Sean practically spent the whole of Christmas at the church itself, attending every single mass and dragging Geraldine and Clare with him. The sins burned away at the latter whilst she sat there during each service, constantly feeling as if the Lord was watching her, aware of her true desires. He would be the only other one than her who knew though, as she'd still not informed anyone else of her preferences.
There would be no Christmas miracle for Clare in that regard.
Little Marie, somehow over a month old and leaving the family wondering exactly where that month since had gone, was spending her first Christmas with them. She would get the miracle that Clare would not though, being able to meet her Daddy for the very first time. Orla and Erin were sat together on the sofa, with the little girl in her Mammy's arms, sleeping soundly. In her best dress, which James enjoyed seeing her in the most, she'd put on plenty of makeup to ensure she looked at her most beautiful for him, knowing he would always be at his most beautiful for her.
"She looks peaceful". Erin commented.
"Aye, she is". Orla smiled, rocking her daughter gently. "She knows Daddy's comin' to see her".
Erin couldn't help but grin at her cousin's love for her little wain. It still felt odd, having the child within the family, but she couldn't deny how cute Marie was.
"I can't wait ye know Erin". Orla excitably whispered.
"Aye it… it is very… exciting". Erin stammered slightly, fidgeting with her hands that were placed in her lap.
"I can't believe they get to stay for five days… it's cracker so it is!"
Erin didn't reply to her cousin a second time, too focused on what she wanted to talk to James about after their initial cuddle. She'd replayed the conversation over in her head a thousand times for a number of weeks, often in the midst of one of her frightening mood swings. Not once did the conversation become any easier, especially when thought of in her dreams, where the worst outcomes would often make the dream a complete nightmare. The most important thing though was that she would be together with him again, her heart returning to feeling complete knowing that he would be there for her for a few days. They would run off to their cottage that evening, to be spend it together as a couple like how they would have done without the war getting in their way.
The sound of the front door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. It could only mean that the boys were home and before she realised it, Erin was on her feet, almost sprinting around to the front door. James was home… JAMES WAS HOME!
When she arrived out into the hallway, David was in the doorway of the front door, kitted out in his uniform that made him look quite the handsome fella indeed. Mary, Gerry, Joe and Sarah all filed out behind her, with Orla staying in the living room with little Marie, sculpting the perfect surprise for her husband.
"David! Are ye well?" Erin asked whilst she waited for James to pop out from behind him.
Only when she asked the question, did she notice the nervous look slapped across his face. She'd seen David nervous many times before, even making him nervous on a few occasions, and immediately there was a reaction from within. James still hadn't popped his head out to see her, to run to her and pick her up, spin her around and give her the lengthy kiss she desired. David could barely make eye contact with her, trying his best to look over her shoulder to the rest of the family, so that he didn't have to look at her. But the tactic was not sustainable forever. He was not a coward and the instructions from his superior officer were clear before he'd returned home. There was no backing out of the conversation that needed to be had with Erin about his best friend.
"D-David… W-Where's J… James?"
Trying her best not to burst out into floods of tears, the question spilled out quietly, emphasising to the returning airman just how little hope she held. That was something he knew he needed to change with the upmost urgency.
"He… he's not comin'".
The tidal wave of hurt smashed into her from his words, swallowing her emotions whole as she fought to remain calm.
James wasn't with him at all.
He wasn't coming home.
"W-What?"
With a heavy heart, David reached into his pocket to retrieve the letter he'd been carrying with his life for the past few hours. A letter which played on his mind throughout the whole flight back to Derry, stabbing at his own heart too. Handing it over, Erin snatched it out of his hands, an action he expected from the moment he'd reached into the pocket of his uniform.
Letter in hand, Erin did not stay to read it, instead turning on her heel and sprinting up the stairs behind her. She couldn't believe what was happening. After all of the excitement, all of the dreams of being back with James, it was suddenly cruelly ripped from her. He wasn't there with her as he supposed to be. The reason for why would be contained within the letter, but she almost didn't want to know, as if it turned out to be her worst fears, then she did not know how she would cope.
"Erin!" Gerry called up.
"No love!" Mary placed her arm in front of her husband, blocking him from following their daughter up the stairs. "Give her time".
Sighing loudly behind them, David rubbed at his eyes. He feared the reaction from Erin when she found out that there would be no reunion with James, anticipating that she would have been buzzing for his return. It was supposed to be a happy day, and it still was for him, but he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the tinge of sadness from his friends not being allowed the same happiness. Noticing the distress on the young man's face, Joe reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. While the rest of them were so focused on Erin, he could empathise with David, having been in a similar position himself many years before. Delivering the news that a young man wouldn't be coming home… the scars never truly left him.
Sarah eventually spoke up to suggest that they go into the living room, in order for David to be able to meet his baby for the first time. He'd expected his tears to fall when he held her for the first time, but he was already having to wipe them away from delivering the news to Erin. When they walked into the living room, Anna ran over to hug David before enquiring about James, Gerry whispering to her what had happened. Whilst she might not have been as upset as her sister was, watery droplets formed in the corners of her eyes. She'd been looking forward to seeing James again so that they could play together, and he could keep his word to watch over her. James made her feel a lot safer… the level of safety would not be the same without him…
Every other thought vanished for David though, when he finally caught sight of his wife, holding their baby daughter in her arms. Orla's smile dropped when she noted James was not with him, but the explanation for his absence could wait. Little Marie Donnelly was about to meet her father for the very first time, a significant milestone in the lives of everyone in the room. They would be able to remember with pride where they were when David got to see her for the first time.
Striding over to his wife, he placed a hand on her cheek, gently pulling her in for a kiss whilst their daughter lay in her arms between them. Lips he'd sorely missed since the early days of September were pressed back against his own, a love reconnected after months apart. He loved her so very… very much.
"David…". She breathed out once they parted. "… do ye want to hold her? Hold our Marie".
Tears were falling from his eyes again, dribbling down his cheek, but he made absolutely no effort to try to stop them. Supporting her head like he knew he was meant to, his eyes widened at the marvellous creation he and Orla brought into the world. She'd so bravely carried the little girl for months, and for a few weeks further, looking after her without him. The perfect job he knew she'd completed was confirmed by how beautiful their baby was, an enchanted Emerald shining in the cold light of the December day.
"Hello Marie…". He began quietly, choking out the words. "… daddy's here for ye. He's sorry he hasn't been but yer Mammy… she's looked after you, hasn't she?"
"She never answers…". Orla huffed slightly.
Snorting at his wife's comment, which was so typically her that he really should have expected it, he rapidly worried that he might have woken his daughter up from her slumber. Luckily, he had not, and they laughed gently at the expression he'd managed to produce. Having Marie in his arms was the dream he'd witnessed over and over in his head since the day Orla revealed her pregnancy to him, which was so many months ago. He'd almost lived another life since then, transitioning from a local mechanic to serving as an airman in the Fleet Air Arm of the Royal Navy. With her in his arms and Orla by his side though, none of it mattered. He was home.
"David, where's James then?"
His beloved asked the question that the rest of them desperately wanted the answer to. They wanted to know whether it was as bad as they assumed Erin feared it was or whether there was another reason for his absence. As the pairs of eyes staring at him increased, even Napoleon the dog appearing to want to know the reason, he began to explain.
"Well…".
He didn't love her.
That was the first thought that came into her head when she read his letter. James Maguire was a lying bastard that just used her for his own desires before agonisingly tossing her away when she was at her most vulnerable without him. Why else would he not come home? Why else would he choose his duty over her? Why else would he stand her up?
She sobbed into her pillow before she could finish reading it on the first occasion, eyes stinging with what she wanted to name as betrayal. He'd betrayed her by not coming home for Christmas like he said he would. Betrayed the trust she had in him as her loving fella who would protect her and kiss her when she wanted to be kissed. She could not comprehend his reasons, even though he'd been enough of a man to list them instead of shying away from explaining himself properly to her. The image she held of him in her head was changing by the second, from a beautiful young man of great honour to a slimy, despicable monster from the depths of hell. For a few seconds she thoroughly despised him.
It was James though.
James who, if anything, was too honourable for his own good.
Reading the letter for a second time, Erin calmed herself down and took in the information properly, her head dictating her emotions rather than her heart. It was then, and only then, that she truly appreciated why he'd done what he had. It was all for her, even if not directly. Everything he was ever going to do in service for the Kingdom, would be in service for his Erin too.
Dear Erin,
Should you be reading this letter, you will know by now that I am not with David as I said I would be, and I know you must probably hate the thought of me. This was not a letter I ever wished to write yet I find myself without a choice. I owe you a further apology for the brevity of what I have to say too, as I only have a short while before David departs.
Staying here over Christmas was not something I wanted or pushed for, and I have only found out this very morning that I am required to. The rest of the Squadron left to return home yesterday, with only myself and David staying here to wait for the flight home. One of the other squadrons we share our base with are on duty for Christmas and they were to provide the necessary manpower to aid in the war effort. However, at seven o'clock this morning, there was an incident and they lost three of their four officers, including their Commander. Unfortunately, I am the most senior officer on site at the base, and that makes it my duty to assume command of their squadron until a suitable replacement can be found. If I'd have rejected the area commander's order, then my career in service would have been over and the stain on my honour would have remained forever. I could not say no.
In the ten minutes that followed the phone call with him, I cried my eyes out in my room because I knew I would not be coming home to you. Ever since I found out we were coming home, the thoughts and feelings that have ran through me have all been out of my love for you. I have said it before, and I will say it again; I believe myself to be the luckiest man alive to be able to have you to love and to laugh with. I cherish the photograph I have of us as it reminds me of the summer of love that we shared together before I left, the happiest days of my entire life. Your beautiful smile and your soft skin are the spectacular ingredients in the feast that is my life, which I cannot wait to tuck back into once I can finally see you again.
We'll meet again Erin. I promise.
I will never break that promise. I will always love you with all of my heart.
Always.
Your James.
They would meet again. That was what he was suggesting to her, but it was not as soon as she wanted it to be. On a calmer read through, her hatred for him disappeared and the love returned, although it was not the same as having him there with her.
The tears continued to flow unchallenged as the pain refused to dissipate. After a while it became manageable though, so she rose up from her bed where she'd been sat crying, to take a look out of the window.
Staring up into the sky, she knew he wouldn't be above her, but looking up made Erin believe that she could see him in a way.
"I love you".
She uttered the words in a choke, her emotions taking a stranglehold over her. The perfect Christmas lay in ruins, but he was still alive, and he would come back to her.
At the exact same time, in the skies above the English Channel, Lieutenant James Maguire led the squadron he'd hastily assumed command of, out to meet the convoy that was heading in during the late afternoon. His mood was foul, though he hid it perfectly from the men he'd only begun to interact with a few hours earlier. He should have been back in Derry, kissing Erin to unleash the vicious longing that resided within his chest whenever he thought of her. His pathetic sense of duty called out to him as always though and as the most senior officer on duty at Worthy Down, he could not leave the other squadron without a commander. A jealous thought ran through him that morning, that he should have asked David to stay too, but it was one that was quickly put to one side. David should not suffer because he had to.
Looking down to the ground, he knew Erin would not be able to see him, as he was flying over Portland Bill rather than the walls of Derry. Yet somehow doing so made him believe that he could in a way.
"I love you".
He muttered away from the radio, so that the crewman behind him didn't baulk at the thought that the officer was in love with him. The perfect Christmas lay in ruins for him, but Erin would still be there when he returned, and he would see her again.
They were both ever so lonely on Christmas Eve.
Erin returned to the rest of her family after a short while, embracing David to thank him for bringing the message to her, despite the heart-breaking nature of it. As everyone sympathised with her, she put on her bravest face, to try to act as if nothing was wrong and she was fully accepting of his decision. She masked her true thoughts brilliantly.
Sitting down to talk to the newly returned David about their life serving the country, she couldn't help but think she would never see James alive again…