The Escape Game by Marilyn Turk

Author:Marilyn Turk [Turk, Marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781636095097
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Leeds, England

August 1941

Beryl took the tram to see Mrs. Dowd every day after work. With no one else to look in on the elderly woman, Beryl felt responsible. Mrs. Dowd was more bruised than initially known, and her skin was a kaleidoscope of purples, greens, and yellows. However, she was stronger than her little body looked, and she always greeted Beryl with a smile if not taking a nap.

“Hello, dear.” She patted the bed. “Have a seat. Did you work today?”

Beryl complied. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What kind of work do you do?” the woman asked for the umpteenth time.

Beryl wasn’t sure if it was her poor hearing or equally poor memory that made the woman ask the question each time she saw her.

“I’m a secretary at Waddingtons.”

Smiling, the woman said, “I used to do that too. Those students could really test my patience, but I loved teaching and did so for twenty-five years!”

Beryl had given up on trying to tell Mrs. Dowd her position was not a schoolteacher but a secretary, deciding it wasn’t worth the bother.

The doctor came by and examined the woman. “You’re getting better every day, Mrs. Dowd. Soon you’ll be able to go home.”

Beryl grimaced. Why did the doctor have to say that? Thinking of her home only made Mrs. Dowd sad. Plus, Beryl still had no idea where the woman would go. She still hadn’t found any relatives in the area who could take her in, and Mrs. Dowd couldn’t remember the married name of her granddaughter in the States. She only saw one choice available—her home. Mother had been coming around since she got Spitfire, and learning of James’ POW status had given her new purpose. Could she take on one more responsibility?

When she reached home later that day, Mum ran to the door to greet her, waving a piece of paper.

“We’ve a letter from James!”

Beryl’s mouth fell open. “A letter? Oh my, let me see it!”

Her mother handed her the single sheet with tiny block handwriting and followed her into the kitchen where she plopped down in a chair, not heeding Spitfire’s attempt for attention.

“His handwriting looks different than I remember,” Beryl said.

“That’s because he didn’t write it himself.” Mum sat across from her. “A friend did.”

Beryl frowned. Was this truly a letter from James?

Holding it up, she noticed some holes where some words had been cut out.

“I wonder what the censors took out.”

“Thankfully, not too much.” Mum motioned to the letter. “Go ahead. Read it. Out loud, if you please. I want to hear it again.”

“Dear Mum and Beryl, Greetings from a prisoner of war camp in xxxxxx.”

She glanced up at Mum. “Wonder where? That part was cut out.”

Mum shook her head. “Go on.”

I want you to know I am all right. Got a little banged up on the way here but am fine now. However, my right arm is in a cast, so a mutual friend of ours, Kenneth xxxxxx from university, is here as well, so he is doing the writing for me.

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