Betrayal at Ravenswick by Kelly Oliver

Author:Kelly Oliver [Kelly Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2020-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve: Lunch with Captain Douglas

Distracted by my encounter with the newly minted Captain Douglas, for the rest of the morning I found it difficult to concentrate on my report. With my luck, he’d been reassigned to the War Office permanently. The only way to find out was to accept his lunch invitation. As much as I despised the man, he could be helpful in getting more information on Fredricks. And I still had another six days before my report was due to Captain Hall. Instead of shunning him, I should try to befriend him. He was such a windbag, he was bound to spill the beans if I let him rabbit on long enough. Yes, I would try my best to get along with Captain Douglas for the sake of my investigation.

Throughout the morning, I’d made several trips to the lavatory to check my appearance. I’d reapplied my lipstick, pinched my cheeks, and adjusted my hat so it covered my spiky black hair. As much as I’d relished reclaiming a dress, I felt quite vulnerable with so much of my body exposed.

Between my self-consciousness about my hair and the men’s boisterous discussion of the value of the Playfair cipher—a manual encryption technique—I couldn’t concentrate on my report.

“It’s absolute rubbish,” Mr. Knox said. “Schoolboys could break it—”

“Funny you should say that,” Mr. Montgomery interrupted. “When the Foreign Office rejected it as too complicated, Wheatstone offered to demonstrate with a few schoolboys.” He chuckled. “The Foreign Office responded, ‘schoolboys yes, but you could never teach it to attachés!’”

“You could never teach it to attachés,” Mr. Grey repeated and burst out laughing.

It was good to hear the men laughing. Since the war had begun, there hadn’t been much laughter in Room 40.

I glanced at my watch. Golly, it was almost noon. I slid the paper sack out from under my desk, tucked it under my arm, and headed for the lavatory. I’d intended to wait until tomorrow, when I’d have proper hair pins to attach my wig, but if I were going to lunch with Captain Douglas, I didn’t want to wear this frumpy hat all afternoon.

The wig was styled in short loose curls and reminded me of Lady Mary Pickford in Poor Little Peppina. I pulled it over my cropped mess and tugged it down onto my scalp. The transformation was startling. The color was a shade darker than my own, more auburn than flax, and the curls were unrulier than the ones I favored. But at least I didn’t look like a freshly shorn sheep.

Unfortunately, I didn’t look like Lady Mary Pickford either. I touched up my makeup, re-tied the bow on my blouse, secured my stockings, and straightened my skirt. When I’d done all I could to improve my appearance, I returned to my desk, uncertain as to whether or not the captain would turn up.

At half past, I realized he wasn’t coming, which, to my surprise, was a bit disappointing. I had been looking forward to pumping him for information about Fredricks.

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