‘What is preventing you?’ asked White.
Fitz looked out through the study window to the garden where Yvette was now helping Barbara Bertram feed the chickens. ‘I made a promise and I can’t break it.’
White followed her gaze. ‘No one can force you to go back,’ he said after a pause. ‘It’s not as if you can return anyway, until your injuries are fully healed. It might be the case that you won’t be deemed medically fit.’ He paused again as Fitz gave him a questioning look. He continued, ‘Your back. With the possible scarring. If the Gestapo see it, they will guess you’ve already been of interest to them. It would make you much more vulnerable and ultimately the weak link in operations.’
‘If there’s anything I can do here in England, then I would be more than willing to help,’ she replied.
‘Of course, you could go back to ferrying planes,’ said White. He tapped his finger on the edge of the briefcase. ‘But, as I understand it, you have excellent linguistic skills in both French and German. We have certain, how shall we say, houses, where we have foreign guests. Listening to their conversations, spoken in their mother tongue, is very revealing. We’re always on the lookout for linguists. Maybe something like that would interest you? Top secret, of course.’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Fitz. This sounded like something she’d be able to do without leaving the country. She had heard a few rumours when she was training about a stately house that had been requisitioned by MI5 and MI6 and turned into a detention centre. ‘That sounds something right up my street, Mr White.’
‘Excellent. I shall put forward a recommendation,’ said White. ‘But, first, you need to recover from your latest exploits. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Fitz.
She saw White out and went over to where Yvette was playing a game of tag with one of the Bertram children. It was a frosty winter’s morning and their breath formed puffs of air as they chased each other around. Fitz watched the scene, thinking it was the first time she’d heard Yvette laugh. It was a delightful infectious sound and warmed Fitz’s heart. As she stood there, smiling to herself, an idea formed in her head. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.
Barbara Bertram walked over to her. ‘It’s good to see them enjoying themselves,’ she said.
‘Yes. Definitely,’ agreed Fitz.
‘All finished with your visitor?’
‘Yes, he’s gone now. I’m to have a few weeks leave and then I might be able to resume duties here in England.’
‘And what about Yvette?’ asked Barbara.
‘I was thinking, I’ll take her with me to visit my father,’ said Fitz. ‘I have a half-brother Yvette’s age. They might be good company for each other.’
‘Oh, that sounds an excellent idea,’ said Barbara.
‘Yes. I just have to persuade my stepmother to go along with it.’ That was the only fly in the ointment. Getting Camilla to agree to having Yvette there. ‘Depending on where I’m posted, hopefully I can either return every night, I mean that would be perfect, or if too far to commute, then at weekends or days off.’
‘That sounds very nice, except … do I detect some hesitation about your stepmother?’
Fitz shrugged. ‘We haven’t always got on. I think she found me challenging.’
‘And are you?’
‘No. I mean, at least I’ve never thought of myself as challenging.’ Fitz paused and then relented ‘Maybe a little. My mother died when I was eight. Camilla, that’s my stepmother,she came along quite soon afterwards and I’m not sure I was ready for a replacement mother.’
‘Yes, I can imagine it would be difficult,’ said Barbara.
Yvette and Barbara’s son, Tim, were now creating patterns and funny faces across the lawn by scuffing their feet through the damp grass and laughing at their results.
‘Camilla tried to take my mother’s place. She was always fussing over me. Asking me what I was doing. Would I rather do this, that or the other? She bought me clothes I didn’t need. Even toys I didn’t want. It felt false,’ said Fitz. ‘I don’t think I understood when I was young and certainly wouldn’t have been able to articulate it, but looking back, that’s how it seemed.’
‘Perhaps she was only trying to care for you? I take it she hadn’t had any experience with children before that.’
‘No. Michael, my half-brother, was born a couple of years later, when I was ten.’
‘How was your father after your mother died?’
‘He was very sad to start with but, you know what, we never spoke about our feelings. We just got on with life and the next thing, Camilla arrived on the scene.’
‘Do you think perhaps Camilla was maybe trying a little too hard?’ queried Barbara. ‘Especially as she had no experience as a mother to call upon. Maybe she was trying to compensate and make you happy in other ways.’
Fitz bristled a little at this suggestion. No, Camilla didn’t care about Fitz. She thought Fitz was a nuisance. She had just wanted to assert herself in the matriarchal role of the family. And then she was trying to convince Fitz’s father to send Fitz away to Scotland. She wouldn’t do that if she cared about her stepdaughter. ‘I don’t think she was trying to do anything like that,’ replied Fitz, wishing the conversation would end.
