The 9 by Madalyn Morgan (tools of titans ebook .txt) 📕

or that she sucked pear drops when she travelled. She hated the thought that Commander Dalton could be right and someone she worked with had helped a German spy to sabotage her work, so she set about to prove him wrong.

With one eye on the door in case the night watchman returned, Ena opened the top drawer of Freda’s desk. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she fingered through documents and worksheets regarding work assigned to herself and her friend. There wasn’t anything there that she hadn’t seen before.

Closing that drawer, she opened the next one down. Dockets and notes attached to petrol coupons from the MoD. Several a month, dated and signed, going back to April of last year. Nothing unusual there.

 She pulled on the bottom drawer. It was stuck. She tugged again and it sprang open a couple of inches. Forcing it open further, until she could get her hand in, Ena ran her fingers along the wooden runners. She touched something. It felt like paper. On her knees, she peered into the cavity behind the drawer. An envelope was trapped between the back of the drawer and the back of the desk.

On her side, her arm stretched as far as the gap between drawer and desk would allow, Ena tugged the envelope free. With the drawer fully open, she sat back on her heels and read the envelope’s contents.

No wonder Commander Dalton had looked shocked when Ena told him they had to travel down to Bletchley by train because they hadn’t received any petrol coupons this month. Here they were. Ena put the coupons back in the envelope, and placed that on top of Freda’s desk.

Except for several letters which had already been opened, the drawer was empty. Ena picked them up and glanced through them. Two were from Freda’s brother, Walter. She read the first page. Walter had referred to Freda as Dear sister. In the body of the letter he said that he was working hard, might have to go overseas soon, and ended with Hope to see you at Uncle’s in Northampton before I leave. He signed off with Keep up the good work, Walter. The second letter from Walter was much the same as the first.

The last letter was from someone who signed off as H. A close friend if the salutation Dearest was anything to go by. It was clear from reading the letter that H and Freda were a little more than friends. But again, there was nothing out of the ordinary in the body of the letter. She returned all three letters to their respective envelopes and put them back in the drawer, making sure she put them in the order they were in when she had taken them out.

Ena blew out her cheeks. Strange that Freda hadn’t told her that she was walking out with someone, if of course she was walking out with the man who signs himself only as H. Mysterious, Ena thought, but not a capital offence.

Pulling herself up, Ena remembered the crumpled envelope containing the petrol coupons on the top of Freda’s desk. She couldn’t leave it there or Freda would know she’d been looking through her desk. The only thing she could do was put the envelope back where she found it and hope it would eventually fall into the bottom drawer where Freda would see it. Satisfied that there was nothing sinister in Freda’s desk drawers, Ena pushed the drawer closed.

She went to Mr Silcott’s desk. The top drawer where the safe key was kept was always locked.

Returning to Freda’s desk, Ena took the key that opened her boss’s desk from the top drawer. Again, there were only worksheets and documents stamped Top Secret in red, which she didn’t read. The second drawer was deeper than the first and held staff information. Ena fingered through the files until she found Freda’s details. Previous address Number 7 Manning Street, Oxford, Current address, since 1939, 24 Newbold Street, Lowarth. No Northampton address. But then it was her uncle’s home, not Freda’s. Ena put the file back and nudged the drawer to with her knee. In the bottom drawer were maps, train timetables, insurance documents and other business papers, but nothing that even hinted of espionage or spies.

Locking the top drawer, Ena returned the key to Freda’s desk then looked at the clock. Beryl would be here in the taxi any minute. Ena needed to leave. As she turned the key in the door of the annexe she called Mr Dawkins. ‘I’m off home,’ she said, ‘would you lock me out, please?’

‘Is that you, Ena?’

‘Yes, Mam. Just taking my coat off.’ Ena looked in the hall mirror and tutted. Her hair was a mess. The usual deep wave at the front was so damp it stuck to her forehead in rats’ tails. She ran a comb through it and held it in place with a Kirby grip. It didn’t look any better, but it would have to do.

‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ Ena’s mother said. ‘I was beginning to worry.’ Putting her knitting down, she held onto the edge of the table and pulled herself up. ‘There’s a bit of stew left. I’ll get a bowl.’ But first she turned to the kitchen dresser. ‘This came for you a bit ago.’ She handed Ena a plain brown envelope. Ena felt her pulse quicken. What now? Her mother, looking over Ena’s shoulder, said, ‘I thought it was Bill come to give us bad news.’

‘Who? Margaret’s Bill?’

‘Yes, on that big motorbike of his. I mean with him and Margaret living in London, in all the bombing.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I was relieved when it wasn’t Bill, I can tell you. Go on then, open it.’ Ena ran her finger along the flap at the top of the envelope. ‘And then I thought it might be about our Tom.’

‘Don’t worry so,