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

to fill the kettle but had stopped to listen to the call, and mouthed, Mr Silcott is ill. ‘Wish him a speedy recovery from Miss King and I, won’t you? And tell him not to worry about the factory. We all have plenty of work to be getting on with. Oh, and would you tell him that Commander Dalton has just telephoned. He’s biking a work order up, which I shall be dealing with.’

‘I will.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Silcott. Good bye.’ Ena put the receiver on its cradle and turned to Freda. ‘Mr Silcott isn’t coming in. He’s got the flu. Still, we can manage without him, can’t we?’

Freda nodded, ‘Of course. Poor Herbert,’ she said. ‘Was he showing any signs of illness yesterday when the two of you were at Bletchley?’

Pulling a thoughtful face by turning her mouth down at the edges and tilting her head, Ena said, ‘Now you mention it, he did look a bit peaky, but he didn’t say anything. The flu can come on without any warning, can’t it?’ Ena went over to Freda and took the kettle out of her hand. ‘The kettle won’t boil itself,’ she laughed, giving it a shake. There was enough water in it for two cups. While her friend was worrying about Herbert Silcott, Ena set the kettle down on the stove, lit the gas ring under it, and wondered what it was the commander wanted her to do.

‘Feeling ill explains why Herbert didn’t come into the factory yesterday afternoon,’ Freda said, suddenly. ‘But why didn’t you?’

Deep in thought, Freda’s question had taken Ena by surprise. It took her a second to gather her wits. ‘I bumped into an old friend. You might have met him when you were at Bletchley. Henry Green?’ Freda pushed out her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘He and our Bess used to walk out together.’ Ena smiled as the memory of Bess and Henry came into her mind. ‘It was a long time ago now. He’s very nice.’

Freda turned sideways, looked over her right shoulder, and batted her eyelashes. Ena felt herself blush. Freda had clearly taken her meeting Henry to mean she was sweet on him. ‘Not my type, so you needn’t start fishing for information,’ Ena laughed. ‘Anyway, Henry went off to university and met someone else.’ Ena felt it best not to mention that the someone else was thought to be a man.

‘Bess didn’t see much of Henry after that, but they stayed friends. They wrote to each other quite often, I think. So when he invited me to tea I said yes, which is why I forgot about the new work order.’

‘And your sick boss, by the sound of it.’

‘I didn’t forget Mr Silcott,’ Ena said, laughing. ‘When I saw him at the station he looked fine.’ Which, in a way, was true. The last time Ena had seen Herbert Silcott was at the station – Rugby station, not Bletchley – and it wasn’t after they had finished work, it was before they’d even started. ‘Do you want to know what happened or not?’

‘Of course I do. I want to know all the juicy details. Don’t leave anything out,’ Freda said, tapping the side of her nose with her finger.

‘We went to the buffet on Bletchley station. Henry bought me tea and a slice of Victoria sponge, which was very nice of him. He was always a nice fellow,’ Ena said, as much to herself as to Freda.

‘And?’

 ‘And the train that I had intended to catch was delayed.’ Freda looked disappointed and Ena let out a loud sigh. ‘I don’t know, the trains get worse. And when it did eventually arrive, it was packed to the gunnels with soldiers. I had to stand all the way to Northampton. My own fault, I should have caught the earlier one.’ She realised she was waffling and was grateful when the kettle whistled.

‘So, what time did you get back?’ Freda asked as she ladled two spoons of tea into the pot. Ena poured boiling water onto the tealeaves and, to give herself time to think, took the spoon from Freda and swished the leaves around a couple of times.

‘Seven or thereabouts.’ Ena squinted into the middle distance as if she was trying to remember the exact time. She was actually racking her brains for something credible to say – and couldn’t think of anything. ‘It might have been a bit later. It took an age to get from Rugby to Lowarth. The bus from the station stopped at every bus stop whether there was anyone to pick up or not. The driver probably didn’t want to get back to the depot too early in case he was sent out on another run.’ Freda nodded, put milk into two cups and Ena poured the tea. ‘I was too tired to bike home, so I telephoned Clark’s Taxi to fetch me.’

They carried their drinks to their respective desks and sat down. ‘How did you get into work this morning?’ Freda asked, taking a sip of her tea.

‘Beryl was driving the taxi last night, and as luck would have it, she had an early morning pick up in Bitteswell, so she called for me on the way and dropped me off. What is this,’ Ena said, laughing, ‘some sort of interrogation?’

On Wednesday morning, Ena found a letter addressed to her among the post. It was from Ben Johnson asking when she would next be visiting her friend in Bletchley. She slipped into her handbag and at lunchtime, read it again. She was taking work down to Bletchley on Friday and wondered if she should write and tell him.

‘Penny for them?’

‘What? Oh, my thoughts. Nothing in particular,’ she lied.

Freda eyed her with playful suspicion. ‘Are you sure?’

‘All right. Yes. I was thinking about someone I met recently.’

‘I thought as much. You’ve been