thirty-twoDASH— June 1943 —Fort William, Ontario
Dash stared at the envelope she had just taken from Mrs. Simmons’s pudgy fingers, dread pooling in her stomach. Telegrams, Dash had a feeling, were mostly used for bad news. She had never received one. Not until today.
Who would have sent her a telegram? Could it be Gus? Was he all right? But if something had happened to him, Dash wouldn’t be the one receiving a notification. Where would they send it? Likely to her parents. Then who? Sick to her stomach, Dash tore the envelope open and felt her heart stop.
DAD IS ILL NOT MUCH TIME
COME HOME STOP MOM
“Dad.”
Dash gaped at the wall, trying to think straight. She had to go home. Today. Had to tell Miss MacGill she was leaving. Had to get to the train station and buy a ticket…
She lunged for her suitcase, half buried beneath her clothes, andthrew everything in. Then she pulled on a skirt and sweater, rushed to clean her teeth and brush her hair. That done, she screwed on her hat—aware that she was barely presentable—and tore out of the house.
What was wrong with her father? Her mother had never mentioned anything in earlier letters. Oh, how could she have sent such a cryptic telegram? Not much time? It couldn’t possibly be somethingthatbad, could it?
Dash took the bus to CanCar, suitcase gripped in her sweating hand, then she threw back her head and uttered a silent scream, frustrated with the bus’s labouring progress. Was it always this slow? Once she spoke to Miss MacGill, there would be a long train ride home, and she already knew that every second in that train would be spent worrying that she was too late. If only she could leap into one of the Hurricanes and fly home.
By the time the factory opened on Monday, Dash would be back home with her parents. She knew Miss MacGill would understand once she heard what had happened, but Dash couldn’t just up and leave without any explanation. It broke her heart that she wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to her friends, but they’d understand. They were expecting her to leave soon for England anyway. And what about the ATA girls? Would they still take her after she abandoned her post like this?
At the office, she yanked on the front door, almost pulling her shoulder out of its socket. The door was locked. Of course.Saturday. Wasn’t Miss Rose here at least? She banged on the door, but no one came.
Dash pounded on the door again, her stomach clenched. “Is anyone in there?”
No one answered. Crushed, she leaned back against the door, imagining her father as she’d last seen him, because she couldn’t bear to think of him in any other condition.
She’d failed at Eisens, today she would run off from Miss MacGill without telling her why, and now she might lose her only chance to fly in the war. None of that mattered. Dash wouldnotfail her father. She would be there for him, her mother, and Dot. Family was the most important thing of all.Hang on, Dad! I’m coming!
“Miss Wilson?”
A small door down the building had opened, and a familiar face peered out.
“Charlie! Oh, thank goodness!” She wiped away her tears. “I need to see Miss MacGill!”
“She isn’t here today.”
“No! She has to be!”
She launched into her story, and the sweet, patient boy nodded as she explained everything in a flurry of words that even Dot probably couldn’t have kept up with. In the end, he not only promised to pass the message along to Miss MacGill, but he insisted on driving Dash to the train station and waiting with her until it came.
As her train finally pulled out, Dash watched Charlie and the car slide past the window, feeling wretched.This isn’t fair, she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was supposed to ship out and report for duty with the Air Transport Auxiliary in two weeks. She should be packing and laughing and looking up friends to say farewell. She was so proud of herself. So proud, and so happy. And now…
None of it mattered anymore. She had to get home.
thirty-threeDOT— Camp X —
Dot’s favourite part of every day, bar none, was when she had Hydra to herself. To no one’s apparent surprise, she had caught on quickly. As soon as she entered the building, she felt in full control of everything going on around her.
Sometimes, as she listened to the rest of the world, far away, she thought of the freezing cold hut at Coverdale and wondered about her friends. Did Alice or Sally think of her at all? She imagined they might have wondered about her for the first while, then moved on. They’d be as busy as ever, hunting U-boats and scribbling out messages. Did the Menace still taunt them?
Now that Dot was officially a part of Camp X, assigned with the dual roles of working with Hydra and manning a desk in headquarters, she was able to see more of the big picture. Before, she had been trying to assemble a puzzle with at least half the pieces missing. Here, she felt great satisfaction, seeing more things play out. The intercepted codes from her friends at Coverdale and from other listener stations across Canada, as well as those intercepted at Camp X, were usually sent to Ottawa, and sometimes to the United States. The most urgent of them were sent to Bletchley Park in England. Dot didn’t know much about Bletchley, butfrom what she could figure out, it was the last stop for codebreakers. After Bletchley decrypted the messages, London made decisions about what actions to take, if any.
I could work there, she dared think. She never mentioned that aspiration to anyone, but she knew it to be true. Her abilities to break codes were getting sharper by the day. Sometimes she joined the women with their heads down in the codebreaking room, craving the mental stimulation and the satisfaction of solving something new, but her favourite job was still picking up on those tiny, almost inaudible dits and dahs through Hydra. And now she had the authority—in certain cases—to transmit some of those herself. She was no longer restricted to listening, here at Camp X. It felt like so long ago that Alice had asked her what she might say to the enemy if she could transmit. Now she could.
The day after she graduated, the camp suddenly teemed with agents returning from around the world, and Dot was struck by how regular the incoming men and women appeared. If she hadn’t worked there herself, she never would have guessed who they really were. Now she saw agents on a daily basis as they passed through on their way to being debriefed in one of the back rooms. From there, the senior secretaries typed up their reports. Dot never saw any of their notes, and while she understood the reason for the secrecy, she couldn’t help being a little disappointed. She was so close to their adventures, and yet so far.
As the previous agents flowed in, the new group flowed out. Dot stood at the main door, bidding her friends goodbye as they embarked on their first jobs in the field.
