I'll Get By by Janet Woods

Author:Janet Woods [Woods, Janet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Severn House Digital
Published: 2012-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Eleven

The Atlantic convoys were being increasingly harried by German U-boats and the loss of life was heartbreaking. It seemed as though Meggie and Judith were being called on to attend memorial services at Westminster Abbey every other Sunday. The whole of England knew that something was in the offing and there was a general uneasiness in the air.

Early in June, the prime minister, Winston Churchill, inspired everyone with his speech to the nation. Afterwards, every man, woman and child in the street felt like a hero who could stand against the foe.

The amount of suspicious messages coming through the office increased, hidden in newspaper articles, crosswords and radio broadcasts . . . even music. Once solved, they were sent for further analysis to Bletchley Park, the central code-breaking unit. Photographs were minutely examined. Meggie was especially vigilant now Leo had taken to the air as a fighter pilot.

Her boss spent less time in his office and more time in helping to decipher messages. Meggie was very aware of him, and it was a relief when another assistant was taken on, a rather taciturn man called Joseph Bruch, who spoke with an accent and was endearing, but in an old-fashioned scholarly way. He arrived and left on the dot, shuffling off towards his one-room flat.

One day he didn’t turn up, and Judith told her he’d been killed in a raid. He wasn’t replaced.

By July the sky was so full of aircraft they resembled a swarm of flies, so if that hadn’t alerted them before, everyone now knew something was going on. The fat barrage balloons, designed to prevent enemy aircraft coming in low were a comforting sight.

Leo was lucky if he got home at all. On those rare occasions when he did, he fell into bed and slept heavily. Casualties were heavy, and Esmé lived in dread of receiving a telephone call from Biggin Hill, or a telegram.

They used the upstairs gas for cooking while Meggie and Judith hoarded their coal ration to keep for the stove in winter, for they’d discovered that the water it heated circulated through the radiators and provided the house with warmth. They also bought bundles of wood collected from bombed houses by enterprising children.

Lord Cowan, who’d previously had very little to say to her, and spent more time out of the office than he did in, cornered her one day. ‘How are you getting along, Margaret?’

‘I find the work a little . . . well, different to what I expected, I suppose. I worked in a legal office before, and it was so varied, and there was always something going on.’

‘I expect there was.’ He shrugged. ‘Believe it or not, what we do here is a small, but useful part of a cog.’

‘Yes . . . I suppose it must be, else we wouldn’t be doing it.’

‘Does Judith enjoy her job?’

‘Yes . . . I think so. We tend not to talk about work when we’re at home.’

His expression became one of approval. ‘It’s best not to get involved in office politics.

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