Hidden In Plain Sight.
Chapter Three.
Theresa Creighton had left school with a formidable set of qualifications.
Not only had she passed ten GCE 'O' levels, all Grade A, and 3 'A' levels, she'd been awarded a scholarship to Cambridge University and joined their oldest college 'Peterhouse' in early September 1955 reading English Literature.
She was eighteen years old.
The first time her lecturer, Ralph Fitzallan, walked into the lecture hall, she was struck by a thunderbolt. He was the most charismatic man she'd ever come across, classically tall, dark and extremely handsome. Needless to say, she wasn't alone in the impact he'd made on her. Just about every female that day was visibly crooning, not to mention one or two males.
Ralph (pronounced Raif) Fitzallan, however, was strictly hetrosexual!
Theresa made it her purpose in life, right there and then, to make him her own and, having brought herself to his attention, by fair means and foul, she'd lost her virginity to him and fallen helplessly in love by the end of that first term.
Ralph Fitzallan was thirty-five and a confirmed batchelor, although that hadn't always been the case. He'd spent the best part of the war working in the SOE with the rank of Major, his immediate superior being Lieutenant-Colonel Winfield, and had fallen in love with one of their agents, Helen Barnes.
Helen was vivacious, stunningly attractive in both mind and body and extremely brave. Their love affair was torrid, passionate and deeply loving, all their emotions heightened considerably due to the dangerous nature of her work. Despite the latter, they had become engaged to be married and had set a date, so when he learned she'd been captured, viciously tortured and sent to Ravensbruk in Northern Germany, the concentration camp where only women were held, he was utterly broken hearted.
He never saw her again.
When he learned that, on the orders of the officer who had sadistically interrogated her, she'd been gang raped first, before he'd started on her with his instruments of torture, his passion to seek out this monster were to remain fiercely powerful for the rest of his life.
That officer, he'd subsequently discovered, was one Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer SS Kurt Scheel and he didn't care if it was justice or revenge he sought, either way he would never rest until he'd tracked him down.
Ralph embarked on a crusade to find out as much as he could about Scheel and, through the French Resistance network, obtained details about him together with a photograph. Despite pleading with Colonel Winfield to allow him to go after Scheel, Freddy had to refuse him, citing the fact that he wasn't alone in losing someone close and if he allowed everyone to satisfy their personal vendetta's, the SOE would fall apart.
Ralph sadly and reluctantly accepted the reasoning, but was intent on seeking out his prey, irrespective as to whether the war was eventually won or lost. His anger and frustration was indescribable when, in the summer of 1945, he discovered Scheel had disappeared, his whereabouts unknown.
Now, in the afternoon of Sunday, June 10th 1956, he and Theresa were out for a drive in his newly acquired MGTF, a picnic basket strapped to the chrome luggage carrier positioned just above the spare wheel, the sun blazing down on them and the air warm as it blew through their hair.
Turning into a secluded country lane, he found an open gate and motored gently into the recently harvested field beyond, bringing the car to a halt beside a haystack. Jumping out and laughing happily, they laid a rug on the grass and opened up the picnic basket, bringing out sandwiches of egg and cress and tuna and cucumber, a bottle of champagne and a flask of coffee.
Ralph was teetotal, Theresa the exact opposite and it wasn't long before, once replete with food and the bottle virtually empty, she lay on her back, pulled her summer skirt up over her knees exposing most of her thighs and reached for him.
Later, lying together in the sunshine, each smoking a Senior Service, Theresa asked him about his experiences in the war for the first time. When he divulged that he'd been attached to the SOE, she suddenly scrambled up on one elbow and stared down at him.
"Did you ever know my brother, Jonny Creighton?" she asked, her eyes wide with expectation as she sucked on her cigarette and watched the gentle, warm breeze blow the smoke away as she exhaled.
"Jonny Creighton?" queried Ralph, he too dragging on his cigarette. "Golly yes I do! Sergeant Creighton, by Jove. He was your brother?"
"Yes." said Theresa, tears immediately forming in her eyes.
"By God, my love, I should have twigged it. Your surname is pretty rare." he said, sitting up and throwing his arm around her shoulder, comforting her as the tears began to flow down her cheeks. "There there now darling."
"Do you kn..know wh..what act..actually happen...happened to him?" sobbed Theresa, stubbing her half smoked cigarette out in the grass.
Ralph hesitated, inhaling another lungful of smoke.
"Yes I do." he eventually replied, exhaling, then reaching up to his mouth to retrieve a piece of tobacco from the end of his tongue.
"Will you t...tell me?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. "M..my parents nev..never would."
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.
She nodded.
"He was on an important mission into Paris." started Ralph. "But little did we know the head of the Resistance had been captured and, under interrogation, told the Gestapo when and where Jonny was being dropped. They ambushed him, took him to their HQ, interrogated him, then shot him twenty-four hours later."
"Who tortured and shot him, Ralph?" asked Theresa, her eyes having now hardened.
"Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer SS Kurt Scheel." he snarled, under his breath. "He also murdered the girl to whom I was about to be married."
"You've been engaged?" she asked, a stab of jealousy striking her heart, this being the first she'd heard of it.
"Yes, I have." he replied, the pain of his loss still raw and clear to see in his brown eyes, fuelling her bitterness towards this unknown woman.
"And who gave the order for Jonny to go on that mission?" she asked, coldly.
"My CO, Colonel Winfield. Why?" asked Ralph, quizzically.
"Just wondered, that's all." replied Theresa, swallowing her resentment of Ralph's wartime love. "Where are they now, any idea?"
"I lost track of Scheel." he murmured angrily, before clearing his throat and continuing. "Colonel Winfield is with the British Secret Service now. He's Lord Winfield, having inherited the title upon the recent death of his father. He's also married to a most beautiful woman, quite takes one's breath away she does."
Jealousy raged once more within Theresa upon seeing the look in Ralph's eyes when he thought of Lady Winfield, but she controlled it. She wanted to know more.
"And this Kurt Scheel." she said, quietly. "What does he look like?"
"Why do you want to know?" queried Ralph, intrigued.
"Because if I ever saw him I'd kill him." she replied, cool as cucumber.
"Huh, better stand in line in that case." he growled, delving into his jacket pocket next to him on the grass and pulling out a well worn sepia coloured photograph. "Here. That's Scheel."
Theresa studied it, committing to memory the arrogant, preening Gestapo officer staring back at her. She handed it back to him, now intent on getting his mind to consign the memory of his dead fiance to the past and focus exclusively upon her, the present. She ran her hand up along his thigh as far as it could go and carressed him, breathless in her desire for him as she felt his immediate response.
"Thank you." she whispered, leaning in and kissing Ralph's lips. "Make love to me again."
Their relationship lasted until 1960, one year after Theresa had graduated with a first class honours degree. Frustrated because Ralph had shown no sign of asking her to marry him, something she desperately longed for, she was utterly devastated when, having noted it was a leap year, tradition thus enabling a woman to propose to a man, he turned her down flat and ended their union instead.
Angry and disallusioned with men, she found solace with women, discovering the joys of sex with them and, later, men in threesomes, thus becoming rampantly bisexual. As the Sixties began to swing and the young became liberated she was insatiable, experimenting with LSD, heroine and cocaine along the way.
But, by 1970, aged thirty-three and nearly having died from an heroine overdose, she cleaned herself up, pulled her life together and eventually landed a librarian role in a boy's public school. She'd deliberately avoided girl's schools, knowing that being constantly surrounded by young, nubile females, she'd find it hard to resist attempting to discover if any of them had lesbian tendencies.
As far as boys were concerned she had no physical interest in them whatsoever, preferring experienced men as and when she felt it necessary to include them in her sexual adventures.
She joined the Richmond Collegiate Junior School in 1990 in an administrative role with additional duties in running the library. Some two years later, whilst leafing through some papers listing potential pupils and their family details and who were due to visit the school on it's Open day, it was then she spotted that Alexandra Dempsey's grandfather was none other than Lord Winfield.
In addition, on the day itself, as she wandered amongst the visitors and their children, she suddenly froze on the spot.
Coming towards her was an elderly gentleman, whose preening arrogance struck at her heart. Despite his advanced years she knew, instinctively, this was Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer SS Kurt Scheel, her brother's murderer. She stood stock still as he approached, then passed her, noticing his obvious affection for the little girl gripping his hand, her other clutching that of a strikingly beautiful elderly woman. It appeared the girl's parents were following and arguing with each other.
Theresa waited a moment then retreated hurriedly to her room in the school, snatching open a desk drawer and bringing out the list of expected visitors that day, together with a bottle of Grant's whisky. Filling a tumbler half full, she downed the liquor in one, before refilling it.
Although calm now, her mind was still racing as she sipped the second glass and searched the list of names in front of her.
She didn't expect to find a Scheel listed, but looked for names that bore a resemblance, soon finding the surname Steele.
She noted the name of the prospective pupil - Hilda Marie Steele.
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"Mummy!" shouted Alex, sitting on the toilet. "I'm finished!"
"Okay, hang on, I'm coming!" replied Harry, pulling on her negligee disgarded from the night before, followed by her dressing gown and made her way to the bathroom. Dempsey watched her go and sighed - love making in the mornings was becoming a rare pleasure.
While Harry saw to Alex, he slipped out of bed, showered, dressed and wandered through to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee, a must to kick start their day.
A few minutes later, Alex appeared, resplendent in her school uniform and quickened her pace when she saw her father sitting up at the breakfast bar. He swung her up onto his lap and kissed her forehead as she cuddled into him.
"Mornin' little princess." he said, as she repayed his affection with a kiss on his cheek. "All set for ya day at school?"
"Yes Daddy." she replied.
"Daddy? What happened to Pop?" he asked, amused.
"I mean Pop." she said quickly, then pausing in thought. "But I can call you Daddy if I want to, can't I?"
"Sure you can, honey." he said, kissing her forehead again. "Now, breakfast. You wan' those Puffs again?"
"Yes please." she replied, leaving both 'Daddy' and 'Pop' out for good measure this time, unsure as to which she preferred.
"Okay sweet pea." said Dempsey, lifting her down to the floor. "Comin' right up!"
She settled herself down at the dining table and waited patiently while Dempsey prepared her bowl of cereal, tucking into it with her usual gusto as soon as it appeared in front of her.
Harry joined them then, looking stunning in a pair of close fitting mid-grey leather trousers tucked into dark grey, knee length boots and a jumper in pale blue with a huge roll neck, the sleeves pulled half way up her arms.
Dempsey whistled under his breath as she leaned in to kiss him, recalling how aroused he'd been earlier.
"Jeez tiger, shame we couldn't..." he began to say, her finger placed against his lips, stopping him from continuing.
"Shhh, darling, little ears!" she whispered. "You nearly said something very naughty. There's always tonight."
"Yeah sorry, I get kinda carried away." he whispered back, grinning.
"It's rude to whisper!" piped up Alex, looking at them both.
"It is for little madams like you." replied Harry. "You will have to wait until you're a lot bigger before you can whisper in front of people. And then only if it's absolutely necessary."
"How bigger?" asked Alex, as she scooped the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
"How much bigger." corrected Harry. "At least as big as me."
"Oooh." mumbled Alex, crunching the Sugar Puffs, swallowing them then pursing her lips. "That big!"
Harry giggled, Dempsey chuckled, as Alex looked crestfallen at having to wait so long before she was allowed to whisper.
"Would you like to go and see Gramps and the dogs at the weekend?" asked Harry. "I'm sure he'll want to hear all about your first days at school."
"Yes please!" she whooped, forgetting all about not being allowed to whisper in an instant. She adored Freddy and loved the labradors who always accompanied her whenever she went exploring the huge stately home, Winfield Hall.
"Right then! Best behaviour or we don't go." threatened Harry, but laughing at the sheer delight on Alex's face. "Go and fetch your satchel and cap then."
As Alex skipped off to her bedroom, Harry put her arms around Dempsey's neck and kissed him.
"Looks as though we're going to have a perfectly behaved little girl for the next couple of days." she giggled, before lowering her voice and whispering in his ear. "Quite the opposite to her mother who's feeling like misbehaving with Pop."
"Huh, she called me Daddy earlier." chuckled Dempsey, as he encircled her waist with both arms and pulled her into him.
"Did she?" asked Harry, eyebrows raised. "Well, we live in hope!"
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Theresa Creighton stood at her office window and parted one of the slats in her blinds, looking out over the school entrance and waiting specifically for two pupils to arrive.
She spotted Hilda Steele first, walking in through the gates holding her mother's hand, occasionally skipping from one foot to the other.
"Hmmm." she muttered to herself. "You look like the granddaughter of that filthy, murderous Kraut!"
Her attention was interrupted by Dempsey, Harry and Alex arriving.
"Little aristocratic bitch!" she hissed at the window, as she watched Alex walk unaccompanied into the school. "You need that snooty confidence knocked out of you!"
She focussed on Harry then and, although instantly attracted to her, recalled Ralph Fitzallan's weak kneed look when he thought of Lady Winfield, reckoning correctly that Harry was a carbon copy of her stunning mother.
'You could do with a wake-up call too.' she thought. 'You're too beautiful for your own good.'
She snapped the blinds back into place and made her way to the library.
Outside, after Dempsey and Harry had waved goodbye to Alex, Georgina Steele came up to them.
"Hello." she said, smiling. "It seems Hilda and Alex are becoming firm friends and we'd love her to come to tea one day after school. Would that be okay with you?"
"Why yes of course." replied Harry, returning the smile. "Alex hasn't said anything yet though."
"No, I know she hasn't." said Georgina. "Hilda asked me last night if it'd be okay and when I said yes, she said she'd ask her today. So I just thought you should know it's fine by me if Alex agrees."
"Fine. Why don't we exchange phone numbers." suggested Harry, opening her shoulder bag, taking out a small notebook with pencil attached and scribbling her landline and mobile contact numbers down before ripping the page out and handing it to Georgina. "There. I'll let you know later."
"Thank you Mrs Dempsey." she replied, handing her details over too. "No doubt we'll arrange a suitable day next week."
"Indeed." replied Harry, smiling. "And please call me Harry."
"Oh right, yes, thanks again, er Harry." beamed Georgina. "Might hear from you later then. Bye for now."
"Seems a nice lady." remarked Dempsey as they walked to the car. "But I'm gonna check her out anyway."
"Whatever for Dempsey!?" asked Harry, somewhat astonished at him. "She's just the mother of another little girl, like me."
"Yeah, well I ain't takin' no chances with our little girl, honey." he replied, as he reached the drivers door and looked across the roof at Harry. "Come on Harry, you've been aroun' long enough ta know ya can't take anythin' or anyone at face value. Ya gotta remember you're a very rich lady, an' whose ta say there's not some freak out there lookin' to extort money by grabbin' Alex."
"Dear God, you're frightenening me, James." said Harry, opening her door and climbing into the car. "But maybe you're right. I'm slipping. I've been too long out of the front line and complacency has crept in. I'd better sharpen up."
"Now you're thinkin' straight, tiger." grinned Dempsey as he grabbed his safety belt, clipped it into place and started the Cosworth. "I ain't sayin' anythin's gonna happen, but it's jus' as well to be careful, huh?"
She leaned across, took his face in her hands and kissed him.
"Yes darling." she said, securing her belt too. "We'll look into the Steele family as soon as we get to work. No stone left unturned."
"You got it, hon." replied Dempsey, still smiling as he nosed the car into the early morning traffic and headed for SI-10.