Hedda

BY PETER HADENThe Angry IslandThe Silent War The Jan Trilogy:Book One: JanBook Two: Hedda First published in Great Britain in 2023 byThe Book Guild LtdUnit E2 Airfield Business Park,Harrison Road, Market Harborough,Leicestershire. LE16 7ULTel: 0116 2792299www.bookguild.co.ukEmail: [email protected]: @bookguild Copyright © 2023 Colonel Peter Haden The right of Colonel Peter Haden to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This work is entirely fictitious and bears no resemblance to any persons living or dead. ISBN 978 1915853 707 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. To my daughtersVanessa Haden and Belinda Haden CONTENTSPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38 PROLOGUEEngland, March 1940 After escaping from wartime Europe they went their separate ways1: Jan redeployed, Hedda would stay in London for a while and Tadzio volunteered for the Army. He suspected that Hedda’s value to the war effort, with her fluency in German and Polish, would be far greater than his own. Tadzio’s first posting was an intense language course at a military school in Buckinghamshire. Because he spoke virtually no English he was escorted to the station, where his guide exchanged a railway warrant, handed him a ticket, found the right platform, and eventually showed him to a seat. He knew the name of his destination, and that he would be met. The carriage soon filled up, but when a fellow passenger attempted to engage him in conversation, he used some of the few words his escort had taught him, just in case.‘I am Polish. No English.’ After which his fellow passengers ignored him. That is, until a ticket inspector appeared.‘Fellow says he’s a Pole,’ said another passenger, his thumb indicating Tadzio. ‘Perhaps the police should check.’Tadzio had not understood, but the gist was obvious. Slowly he produced a temporary identity document from his inside pocket and handed it to the inspector, together with his ticket.‘Gentleman is a volunteer, sponsored by the War Office,’ he told the passenger, ‘but thank you for your concern.’ He smiled politely with a friendly nod as he handed the ticket and document back to Tadzio.‘Sorry old chap,’ said his fellow passenger, ‘but you can’t be too careful these days.’ Sensing that he might not have been understood, he also tapped his chest by way of apology. Tadzio smiled. Fortunately, he had a window seat. He looked away over the countryside. 1 See ‘Jan’ by Peter Haden. CHAPTER 1London, March 1940Hedda’s billet was a handsome terraced house in Pimlico. ‘My name is Mrs Ecclesworth,’ her elderly hostess began, as Hedda’s driver set down her suitcase on a small square of black and white tiles. ‘Come in, my dear.’ She beckoned, stepping back from the doorway. ‘Put your case here in the hall for now, and we’ll have a cup of tea. Or would you prefer coffee?’Hedda followed her into a beautifully furnished lounge where two sofas sat either side of a long coffee table. ‘May I call you Hedda?’ she asked. ‘And you must call me Clarissa!’ she exclaimed, without waiting for an answer. She rang a small hand bell. ‘Doreen Jackman from the War Office arranged for you to stay here,’ she went on, ‘and as you know I am to work on your English. I’m aware of your background,’ she added, ‘but don’t worry, Doreen and I are old friends – in fact, she used to work for me and was promoted when I retired.’A few minutes later, a maid appeared carrying a tray. There were tea and coffee pots, together with a plate of biscuits. ‘Thank you, May,’ she said, then, turning to Hedda, ‘What will you have, and shall I pour?’As she and her fiancé Tadzio had suspected, Hedda learned that her potential value to the war effort was indeed rather greater than his. So as a precaution and to preserve the secrecy of her identity, she was being schooled privately on a one-to-one basis by someone the department knew to be utterly reliable.There was but one rule: only English would be spoken, although it seemed that French was also a common language. However, in response to her hostess’ query, Hedda confessed that her French was, at the moment, rather the better of the two. ‘It was the first foreign language we learned at school in Germany,’ she explained, ‘and my father, who spoke it almost fluently, also taught me a lot so that I could be top of the class. But I had five years of English lessons before…’She stopped, reluctant to explain why her parents had committed suicide. But Clarissa had already been briefed. So she smiled sympathetically and paused, drinking tea to give her new guest time to set aside painful memories and collect her thoughts.Hedda stayed at the Pimlico house for almost two months. She had a lovely single room on the first floor and sole use of a bathroom. A younger maid, Florence, assisted May with household duties such as the fireplaces and laundry. There was also a housekeeper and a cook, although Mrs Kent and Mrs Lewis did not live in.Meals were strange, but Clarissa made a point of explaining their preparation. Hedda could not believe her good fortune: she was living a life of luxury, more so, even, than when she had been a young girl and her parents were alive. Her eyes grew