The next day I went out into the fields and tried to figure out the radio, wishing there was a book of instructions with it, but of course any official spy would have been properly trained on its use. I had finally worked out that the big dial was the frequency finder. God knows how I had managed to send a message at all I was so ignorant. All I could hope was that someone, hopefully not the Germans, would have picked it up. I didn’t know how useful the information would be and, in any case, perhaps some real spy had sent the message using the transceiver properly.
I had to hide the case again so I closed it securely and wrapped it in a stiff cotton pillowcase and an old mackintosh, so big it must be Herr Euler’s, and then carried the radio out further into the field and dug a pit. I went back to the farmhouse then to cook myself some lunch.
I had the usual eggs and bread and, luxury, a bit of chicken, and sat outside to eat my meal in the quiet of the countryside. I wished Jessie was here to cook with her usual efficiency and chatter at the same time. I was lonely. But tomorrow I would be back at work, among my colleagues, my friends, if I was to be truthful. Friends and enemies—how do you distinguish them?
The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of cars driving up outside the farmhouse. I got up wondering, with a beating heart, if Michael was home.
The man who stepped out of the car was a stranger; he stood there shoulders hunched to break down any resistance and stared at me suspiciously.
‘I am Frau Euler,’ I said, ‘what are you doing here if I may ask?’ It paid to be polite to big hard men in SS uniform.
‘I am Von Kestle. I have to search your house. Anyone else here?’
I shook my head. ‘My husband is in the skies somewhere bombing the enemy.’ I hoped that he was dropping his bombs in the sea. ‘And my father-in-law Herr Euler is no doubt busy working for the fatherland in his office in Hamburg.’
The man paused, taken aback, and then he clicked his heels. ‘Forgive the intrusion Frau Euler,’ he said quickly, ‘but we have reports of enemy activity in the area, we have to search.’
‘There was a spy here some time ago but Herr Euler got rid of her,’ I said quickly.
‘They work together these traitors,’ the man said sternly. ‘There is usually a nest of them—like vipers. Now, I’d like to come inside, Frau Euler.’
I stepped back hurriedly and waved my arm. ‘Please come in, you are welcome to search my house if only for my own safety. Can I fetch you any refreshments?’
‘Nein! Danke.’
I moved away and sat at the kitchen table. I didn’t have to try to look afraid. I was nearly wetting my knickers as I’d done when I was a thirteen-year-old girl being evacuated to the country. What a lot had happened to me since those days when all I had to fight was the bullying of Georgie Porgy Dixon.
I knew the case was not in the house but it was not very well hidden either. I had been too careless; I would have to make better arrangements in the future—if I was allowed any future. I knew I would be arrested or even shot if I could be tied in somehow to the radio set.
Eventually the men went outside and searched the chicken coup and the broken-down barn. I heard them swish at the bushes with their guns and cringed with fear until they went away defeated with just a salute in my direction.
I would have to go further away to send any more signals as I couldn’t risk being anywhere near the farmhouse again. I hadn’t thought they could track the signal so easily.
I sat shivering for most of the evening trying to work out the safest way to get messages home should I need to. The difficult thing would be finding the correct frequency. I knew from the time I’d spent in Hari’s office that it was changed every day.
Anyway, there was no news to send at the moment, nothing that was of any importance. When there was, then I’d tackle the problem.
I dug up the case early in the morning and fitted the parts into a large biscuit tin. Then I made a bonfire of the paperwork from inside the case, poor Rhiannon wouldn’t need it now. I wrapped the case in newspaper and hid it under a pile of horse manure.
A shopping bag tied to the handles of my bike hid the tin. I’d taped paper to the lid and printed ‘Sanitary Goods’ on the lid. I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
The next morning, I took the shopping bag into the building where I worked. The security man took a brief look inside and, embarrassed at the writing on the tin, handed the bag back to me. I hung up my coat and stuffed my scarf into my pocket. It all looked very innocent.
I put the tin in my desk drawer for now; later, I would find a cupboard where I could hide it. In the event that the radio was found, I couldn’t be blamed any more than anyone else in the building.
I worked hard through the day and listened for anything out of the ordinary to come through my earphones. I sent the usual signals, giving information to airmen or the navy vessels off shore at Antwerp. Mundane tasks that made up my day.
When I arrived home at the farmhouse, there were cars everywhere and men in uniform digging in the shrubbery. I caught sight of Von Kestle and he came towards me, his huge booted feet covering the ground swiftly.
‘We have found evidence of the ground being tampered with,’ he said. ‘Somebody was there, digging.’
I put my hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my God!’
‘You know nothing of this?’
‘How could I? I have been at work in my Hamburg office all day,’ I said.
‘The signal that was picked up twenty-four hours ago was from here, on this farm.’
‘I told you,’ I said. ‘Herr Euler found a woman here, a spy, he dealt with her. Whatever she left behind has got nothing to do with the Euler family, I give you my word on it.’
After a moment the man nodded. ‘I understand. But we will have to keep observing this area, just in case.’
I wasn’t sure he believed me but without evidence there was nothing he could do. The soldiers went away and I drank some tea, telling myself I wasn’t cut out to be a spy. I didn’t like taking risks but there were certain things that had to be done for the sake of my country.
I went to bed early and lay awake thinking of the biscuit tin in my drawer at the office and I knew I would have to find somewhere to hide it before the SS began looking at my life too closely.