A Traitor in Whitehall by Julia Kelly

Author:Julia Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

TWENTY-TWO

Finally free from my duties, I retrieved my handbag, discreetly slipped my notebook into the top of my right stocking, and, for the second time that day, made the long walk to the telephone booth around the corner from the CWR.

It took a few rings before a very harried Mrs. Jenkins answered. “Jenkins residence.”

“Hello, Mrs. Jenkins,” I said.

“Oh, Miss Redfern. There’s been ever so much commotion today. Miss Fein just had some terrible news about her man,” my landlady said in a rush.

“Oh no.” Joan was a tiny scrap of a woman who worked in a bookshop and hardly said a word to anyone. We’d all been amazed when, the day after war was declared, she’d come home sporting a chip diamond engagement ring and telling us that she’d soon be Mrs. Walters once her fiancé could find enough leave from the RAF to marry her. That was more than a year ago, prompting some of the rest of us living at the house on Bina Gardens to wonder whether there was any Flight Lieutenant Walters at all.

“I need to go console the poor thing. Who would you like to speak to?” she asked.

“Is Moira in?”

“Miss Mangan!” I heard her call. “Miss Redfern is on the telephone for you.”

There were a few clunks and clatters on the line as Mrs. Jenkins put the receiver down, and a few moments later Moira picked up. “Evie.”

“What’s happened to Joan’s fiancé?” I asked. “He wasn’t shot down, was he?”

Moira snorted. “Shot down? Try left her for another woman.”

“What?”

“He showed up about an hour ago with a blonde who could be Mae West’s sister and introduced her as the new Mrs. Walters. Joan burst into tears, and she’s locked herself in the first floor loo. The third floor one is out of commission, so we’re all trying everything we can think of to lure her out.”

“Oh, Lord,” I muttered.

“Apparently the new Mrs. Walters is a barmaid at a local pub near his RAF base,” she said. “She actually seems lovely and is completely mortified at the whole scene. Apparently the flight lieutenant told her that they were going to visit his sister.”

“Men,” I said.

“I couldn’t agree more. By the way, there’s a message here for you from Jocelyn. Do you have your notebook to hand?” asked Moira.

With a glance to my right and left, I extracted my small notebook from my stocking top. “Go ahead.”

“She said to tell you that there are a number of Charlotte Deeleys in London alone, but the one who best fits the age you gave her lives in Finsbury Park.”

“She found Charlotte?” I asked, duly impressed. I had expected it to take Jocelyn’s newspaper researchers days to find the missing woman—if this proved to be the right one.

“I guess,” said Moira. “She said the address you’re looking for is 100 Ennis Road. She also said to remind you of that drink.”

“If you see her tonight, tell her it’ll be two drinks and they will be on me, I promise,” I said.

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