The Secret Generations (17 page)

The recipients of the instructions lived in places as far apart
as Edinburgh and Exeter; and MO5, with help from the Branch, now ran a full-scale surveillance on the whole ring.

There were thirty agents receiving instructions via Ernst
’s ‘Post Office’ and most of their orders centred on gaining intelligence of dockyards and fortifications. The pay, Giles told John, was meagre: ‘Ernst receives about a pound a week for his services.’

‘
And he suspects nothing?’ John asked.

Kell shook his head.
‘All we can do is watch and wait. If any trouble flares up, the whole bunch can be arrested in a matter of hours.’ Technically they had gained control of the entire German network in the United Kingdom.

‘
Well, it’s certainly…’ John began. Then, his words were cut through by a terrifying scream from the house.

Charles was on his feet, recognizing the frightening noise as coming from his daughter, Mary Anne.
‘Oh, my God! Mildred!’

As he turned towards the house Charles caught sight of two figures running
– Vera, the maid, going like a greyhound across the fields, her cap flying off, and the black dress and starched apron lifted high; and Billy Crook following her; catching up fast.

*

In the hall Sara stood, white-faced, at the telephone. She held out an arm to stop Charles from going up the stairs, as she spoke into the mouthpiece, ‘…Yes, doctor… as quickly as you can… thank you.’ Putting down the instrument, she turned to Charles. ‘Don’t go to her. She’ll not thank you for it…’

‘
Is she…?’

‘
Mary Anne, Mrs Kell and one of the maids are with her. Yes, she’s in labour, and it does not look good.’ She took hold of his arm. ‘You’d want to know the truth. The doctor will be here as soon as possible. In the meantime I’ve sent for Martha Crook. She’s probably the best person to have at a time like this…’

‘
But…’ Charles looked dazed.

‘
If you’ve any doubts, I can tell you that Dr Squierey himself asked. The first thing he said was, “Have you got Mrs Crook there?” So, she’ll be in good hands.’

Charles opened his mouth, his eyes blank; but Sara seemed to read his thoughts.
‘Yes, my dear. If it gets dangerous, I’ll see you’re with her. Now, please, Charles, stay with the other men. This is women’s business.’

Giles moved from behind his nephew, taking him by the arm and leading him back to the te
rrace. There, they tried to continue with some normality, talking about naval policy, and the need to build up strength on both land and sea.

But Charles hardly heard a word, though he tried to force his mind onto the conversation.

It was impossible; his thoughts were blurred, running together. Now, suddenly, they became focused by what could have been the cry of an animal in pain.

*

It was no animal. The cry came from his wife, Mildred, propped up, swathed in towels, her legs stretched apart, in their room upstairs.

Sara had seen Martha Crook a number of times since John had told her the truth about the woman. Tall, with greying hair tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, she had an e
xtraordinarily quietening influence: as though she possessed a secret gift for calming inner fears. Her voice was soft, and her hands even softer as she probed Mildred’s abdomen, swollen with child. Even Mildred, though in great fear, felt safer on hearing the soothing speech. ‘There, there, now quiet and gentle, my dear. All is going to be well for you both. Don’t you fret. Just keep taking big deep breaths when the pain comes…’

‘
The pain’s… there… all… the time…’ Mildred gasped, then cried out again at the shears of agony which cut into her. Martha gestured to Sara, motioning her away from the bed to the far side of the room.

Martha Crook
’s exceptionally dark brown eyes looked serious as she spoke very quietly so that only Sara could hear. ‘I fear it’s bad, Ma’am. Just pray the doctor doesn’t get here for a while, otherwise the poor lady’ll be gone.’

‘
What?’ Sara felt fear of her own.

Martha put a hand to Sara
’s lips. ‘Shush, now. I don’t know what the lady’s doctor has been about, nor if he even knows, but that child in her must be turned. It’s a breach birth, and Dr Squierey cannot do it. I know. I’ve seen him try, but he has no nack for it. The lady’ll be in some pain, but with God and luck I’ll turn the child. If I do not, then neither’ll live and that’s truth.’ She took a deep breath, glancing at her patient on the bed. ‘It’s a big baby as well. Makes matters more difficult. Now…’ She gave instructions, with no fuss. Clear and lucid. They were to hold the patient tightly by the arms and calves, mop her brow, and keep her from looking down. ‘On no account do I want her to see what I’m doing. You understand? Now, the hottest water I can bear to wash in; and plenty of disinfectant.’

For the next hour, Mildred cried out a great dea
l, and occasionally, mercifully, lost consciousness. They held her firmly straddled on the bed, so that she could not move, while Martha Crook talked constantly, working her agile fingers, first round the abdomen and then, slowly, inside Mildred.

Mildred
’s hair was slick with sweat, and her cries became louder, more agonized, as the life inside her shifted, relaxed, then shifted again. Gradually the cries became softer as she weakened, losing blood together with her will to continue bearing such intense agony.

At last Martha Crook stood back, then leaned forward to whisper, her gleaming eyes on her patient,
‘Now, my dear; now you have to summon all your strength.’ Slowly she repeated, ‘all your strength.’

For a second it seemed that Mildred could not hear; then her eyes opened. Something moved within the eyes, as though fever was being sucked from her. The change was mystical, as a special, uncomplicated bond suddenly formed between her and Mrs Crook.
‘
All
your strength, my dear,’ Martha whispered, and an unbelievable sense of peace crept into the room. ‘Now, bear down. Bear down; and your lovely son will come into the world. You want that, don’t you?’

Mildred gave a small nod. The agony and burning hell of the past hour appeared to have left her, and she did as she was told, without question, or sound. The rest was simple, natural and easy. The boy came, gently, with no further fuss, into the world. The babe took two little
snuffles of air, as though sniffing the place he had found, and then began to cry, as fit and lusty as any child.

The doctor heard the cries as he came up the stairs. His job was now relatively easy:
to make Mrs Charles Railton comfortable, and give his own instructions, to be certain that no septicaemia set in – though he had seen Martha Crook’s work before, and knew it to be unlikely.

Sara went downstairs to tell a much relieved Charles that he had a fine son, but Mildred should be left to sleep, as it had been a most difficult birth. When she returned to the room, Martha Crook had quietly disappeared, going down the back stairs, and out into the hot August afternoon, returning softly
across the fields to the Glebe Cottage.

Mildred slept until late, and Charles saw his new son, and the mother, after dinner. Both appeared to be healthy, and he remarked on Mildred
’s radiance. Only those in the room during the birth of little William Arthur, named after The General, knew what a miracle had been accomplished.

*

At dinner that night, Giles noticed that, in spite of the flying he had done during the day, and the presence of his friend Dick Farthing, James was unusually silent. He even commented on it to Sara.

‘
Oh, James, of all people, is mooning over some girl,’ she smiled, as though passing on a secret. ‘It’s all right, she’s very respectable. Old Army family. Lives the other side of Haversage. They call her M-M-M because of her initials, Margaret Mary Mitchel, with one “l”. Nice girl. James has been like this ever since they met. It’s a good job he’s off to Sandhurst next month; that’ll settle things, one way or another. Either she’ll wait for him, or it’ll all fall down.’

Giles Railton gave a tiny nod, his lips moving up, then back again in a fast thin smile. James, like his daughter, Marie, was the real family future, and could well see to himself; though Giles truly thought of himself as the boy
’s guardian angel.

It was John
’s gaunt and tired face at the head of the table which really concerned him, with his private knowledge of his nephew’s health; that, and one other thing – the looks which passed constantly between Sara and the young American flyer, Farthing. Giles knew much about life, and more about secrets. He had seen that look before, just as he could now see the mark of death lying across John Railton’s face. He had also heard his nephew speak of the relationship between James, Sara and the American. ‘He’s like a brother to both of them,’ John said. In the tone, Giles detected a bitter barb, hidden away among the words like a cipher.

Chapter Ten

James had always got on well with his cousin, Caspar, so it was arranged between them, and with the authorities, to share a room, and servant, when they arrived at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, in September.

James’ only regret was his enforced separation from the delightful Margaret Mary Mitchel – who had almost, though not quite, taken precedence, in his affection, over aeroplanes. They had met at Lady Dartmouth’s Ball during the Season, in London.

Normally, James preferred to stay in the country, where Richard could bring one of the Farmans down, sometimes for entire week-ends.

It was necessary, though, to go to London, even in this Season which followed the ‘Black’ Ascot. Young men like James and Caspar were expected to prepare young women to mix with men in society.

He had never been much attracted by women, but at Lady Dartmouth
’s Ball he encountered Margaret Mary early in the evening, and, not really knowing what was happening to him, reserved every dance – something not usually done.

She captivated him from the moment he set eyes on her. Striking, with a mane of red hair, slim boyish figure, an impish face covered, to her embarrassment, with freckles, and a sense of humour which went with the face, she was unlike any girl he had met until now; not beautiful in the classic sense, but highly desirable.

For the first time a human being, M-M-M, haunted his more lustful fantasies. Yet it was not just the physical side of her which attracted James. This girl could talk about things other than her favourite pony, or what it had been like at school. On that first meeting, he encountered a mind much aware of things about which he had little knowledge – music, for instance, was a true passion with her.

To James
’ great delight she knew exactly who he was, and soon revealed that she lived only six miles the other side of Haversage, near the village of Challow, on the Uffington road – not far from the undulating hills, and the White Horse; a place where James had often been taken, when younger, to toboggan during hard winters.

She was also part of an army family, her father being Sir Bertram Mitchel, former Colonel of the Royal Artillery, who had known The General, though more by reputation than any social contact.

James learned later, that Sir Bertram preferred life at Challow Hall; mainly for the sake of his frail wife who had contracted one of the more unpleasant forms of malaria during the Colonel’s term of service in India.

His daughter, however, was far from frail. Together, the couple began to climb into each other
’s minds. James listened to Margaret playing Chopin; while she came over to Redhill to watch the flying.

From friendship their feelings blossomed into that indistinct and blurred relationship, unspoken, but clear in each other
’s eyes and gestures.

On the week-end before he departed for Sandhurst, James walked Margaret into the spinney and there kissed her: once tentatively, then, as she returned his kiss, several times. They remained, lost in each other, for a good hour, speaking of their feelings, neither of them truly comprehending what was happening, yet both sure that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

So, it was with mixed emotions that James finally arrived at the Royal Military College. This was a long-awaited moment; yet so much had been added to James’ life in the last few months – the flying, a new and closer relationship with his stepmother, and now this extraordinary passion for a girl from whom he resented being parted.

The couple decided they would make no public announc
ement. Margaret Mary knew that the wait could be long and difficult, depending on which regiment finally claimed him. But she remained unconcerned, being as determined as she was striking; and, while both young people imagined their passion to be secret, the families were well alerted to the true way of things. Sara’s words to Giles, during the week-end at Redhill Manor, about Sandhurst being a make or break time for the couple, were echoed at Challow Hall, where Margaret Mary’s parents had both certainly taken to James.

If anything came of the relationship, the families would not stand in their path. Only the Army, or a sticky patch in the Empire
’s history, could do that.

James and Caspar quickly settled into life at the Royal Military College. It was, they soon discovered, less taxing than being at school, and it depended on the individual how much time remained idle.

For those who were at Sandhurst during the two years spent at that establishment by James and Caspar Railton, the requisite subjects included French, German, Mathematics, Military Engineering, Military Law, Tactics, Musketry, Drill (naturally), Topography, Gymnastics, Fencing, and Riding.

James was puzzled for a long time after the Commandant
’s interview; for this senior officer insisted that James should continue to fly regularly – as ‘an outside sport’. More bewildering was the Commandant’s directive that he should continue especially his studies of French and German with, as he put it, ‘renewed vigour’.

James threw himself happily into the routine. On most Saturdays he went over to nearby Farnborough to continue flying, when the weather allowed, and, eventually, taking his Aero Club Certificate.

At least once a month he could make the relatively easy journey either to Challow Hall or Redhill Manor. So, he was fully, and happily, employed; living a pleasing life which combined all that most interested him; and the feelings between James Railton and Margaret Mary Mitchel deepened rather than diminished.

*

‘I’m not given to bad language, but I’m bloody furious.’

‘
Tell me, Vernon. Tell me the whole thing.’ Giles Railton stumped along beside Kell in the late afternoon mists of Regent’s Park.

It was November; cold; both men wore greatcoats, mufflers and overshoes. The paths glistened with moisture; while here and there, a soggy leaf, gold a week or so before, lay like a vandalized butterfly. Giles Railton had eagerly agreed to the meeting.

Kell started to tell the story.

In mid-October, two of Quinn
’s men had arrested a suspect in Portsmouth. Quinn travelled down to the city, followed by Kell and Charles Railton who remained in the background, to avoid any public identification.

The arrested man confessed to everything, admitting that he was a German national
– Siegfried Helm. Yes, he had been sketching the Portsmouth harbour defences. He identified his own notebook, and the sketches.

Then, of his own volition, Helm told the Branch interrogators that he was an officer of the Imperial German Army
– a Lieutenant of the 21st Nassau Regiment.

Helm was immediately charged under the Official Secrets Act.
‘I was overjoyed,’ Kell sounded less than happy now. ‘Like a fool, I even thought this might bring about a withdrawal of the “Barber’s Shop” network from the country.’

The case was complete
– with corroborating evidence from two British Officers, who had seen Helm at work, sketching searchlight and gun emplacements.

The trial was at Winchester, under Mr Justice Eldon Bankes. Sir Rufus Isaacs, the Attorney-General himself, prosecuted for the Crown. The case was unanswerable, and Sir Rufus obtained an easy conviction.

Then came the bombshell. ‘A farce,’ Kell said. Before the Judge’s summing up, Rufus Isaacs had raised a point of law and strongly stressed the limitations of the Act under which Helm was being prosecuted. It was the first time such a case had been heard, and there was little doubt in Sir Rufus’ mind that an act of espionage, carried out by a foreigner in time of peace, did not constitute a serious offence in the law as it stood. Nevertheless the jury returned a verdict of guilty. But, Mr Justice Bankes, taking into account that Siegfried Helm had already spent four weeks in prison, bound over the prisoner, and ordered his immediate discharge.

‘
That all?’ Giles did not look at him.

‘
All? Sir, the Official Secrets Act has
got
to be changed; or the German Intelligence people active in the United Kingdom will have a field day at our expense.’

Giles grunted, looking at the rapidly closing mist.
‘Agreed. I shall lobby everyone. We’ll get an amended Act onto the statute books.’

‘
I sincerely hope so.’

Until this Helm business they had all been confident that MO5 had the German agents, working in Britain, wholly under their thumb. Now Kell voiced serious doubts. Watchers were doubled; the letters, instructions, and cards which moved to and from Karl Ernst
’s Shop, were subjected to greater scrutiny, checked by top cipher men – brought from the DID’s office at the Admiralty – and not allowed to pass until either Kell or Charles Railton gave the word.

Until the law was changed, a sense of bitterness hung over MO5
’s offices.

*

At Christmas there was a new name on some of the presents under the Christmas tree at Redhill Manor – another William Arthur Railton, son of Charles and Mildred.

On Boxing Day morning, the hunt met as usual, and James, looking splendid in uniform, rode beside Miss Margaret Mary Mitchel of Challow Hall
– another fact to be much commented on, by family, servant, and townsfolk alike.

So 1910 came to an end. Happier than it had started; but
with some troubled minds in secret places.

*

Two years later, just before Christmas, 1912, James, now officially a 2nd Lieutenant of the Hampshire Regiment, was married, in Haversage Parish Church, to Margaret Mary Mitchel.

Both young people had matured, and took their devotion for one another with an amused seriousness. As some older members of the family commented, it was good to see two members of the younger generation who did not spend all their time at house parties, or dancing the night away.

In fact, James and Margaret Mary revelled in each other’s company. When they were apart, they wrote letters daily. James, under his wife’s guidance, had begun to enjoy books outside of those called for by his profession; he was also beginning to taste the delights of serious music. In some of his letters he wrote poems. One read:
Across the hidden places of my heart,

You search me out;

Following the tracery of my daily life