‘Has it been dreadful?’ she asked.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
A grassy meadow led to the tree line, and we walked through the long grass to an old wire fence, presumably the edge of Vaughn’s property.
‘They put you between those dreadful women. It looked like they were trying to sell you a magazine subscription,’ Margaret said.
‘Gather round!’ Vaughn yelled, and we formed a loose semi-circle around him, with the fence behind him. With ourburning torches, it looked like we were about to conduct some kind of sacrifice, or storm the Bastille.
Vaughn looked at his wristwatch.
‘A moment of silence, please!’ he shouted.
The last few murmurers quieted themselves. All eyes were on Vaughn. He looked expectant. He checked his wristwatch again.
There was a nervous titter of laughter.
‘Could have brought some bloody whisky, Vaughn, if we’re traipsing around the country.’ This from Constance.
‘Bear with me,’ Vaughn said.
We waited in the dark, the flaming torches making the only noise as they were gently teased by the wind.
‘Hier ist Soldatensender Calais,’ a voice said, unmistakably German. It came from nowhere.
I looked around for the source and saw it: a long, barbed-wire fence behind Vaughn.
Everyone else looked mystified. People muttered to each other: What kind of play was Vaughn putting on? Did he have an actor lurking in the trees? Presumably some kind of hilarious joke. Good old Vaughn. Always game for something.
The voice continued. I didn’t understand the words, but it sounded like an announcement.
‘This is Gustav Siegfried One,’ Kay, my dinner companion, said, taking the role of interpreter. ‘This is the Chief, resuming transmission from Forward Operating Base Delta in Calais, in the territory of the Reich formerly known as France.’
While she spoke, the German voice emerged from the air, seeming to come from all around us. Freddie touched the barbed wire, and the voice disappeared.
‘It’s the fence,’ I said to Miriam, standing next to me. I felt foolish as soon as I said it. She’d told me she was an expertin radio waves and here I was trying to impress her with my rudimentary understanding of the subject.
Freddie took his hand away and the German voice continued, with Kay translating.
‘As we mass on the beaches and the mustering points, ready for the invasion of our weakest neighbour, we know that the Jew-loving Churchill will be quaking in his boots, and our glorious leader is only days from his triumphant master-stroke.’
‘Exactly,’ Miriam said to me. ‘The correct combination of wire length and corrosion. We found it yesterday evening and Vaughn wanted to show it off.’
‘This will be a triumph of the foot-soldier. The tank commander. The U-boat crew member. But as we march down Piccadilly Avenue, we must keep an eye on our rear-guard, on Berlin, where the profiteers and party ...’ Kay seemed lost, her translation faltered.
‘Apparatchiks,’ Margaret interjected.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Kay agreed. ‘Where the profiteers and party apparatchiks operate, those ... leeches who are already syphoning off by all accounts fifty per cent of all funding meant for widows of soldiers, while normal people go hungry in their homes.’
It was good to know that the Germans were having their own problems. The way things were presented in the newsreels, they were unstoppable. This was the first I’d heard about internal issues.
‘Thus, as we lie down to sleep on what might be the eve of our invasion, we ask for your blessing, people of the fatherland, and give you in return our warning – watch your backs, and keep the glorious Leader safe from those around him who look to subvert this historic moment. Signing off for this evening, Gustav Siegfried Eins. I repeat. Gustav Siegfried Eins.’
45
‘I’ve heard that voice before,’ I said.
Miriam and Vaughn looked at each other. They tried to hide it, but they were excited.
