The captain and Daphne fussed over each other for a bit. I had already said thank you, and since even that hadn’t turned out well, I decided to sit in the passenger’s seat and keep quiet. Eventually we drove off down the long driveway, away from the captain, who waved, alone.
“What’s the matter with your old man?” I asked Daphne. “Does he hate all Americans or just me?” She didn’t answer. I looked over at her. She had a grim look on her face, and tears streaked across her cheeks, blown by the wind.
“Why the hell is everyone crying?”
Again, silence. It wasn’t until we pulled out onto the main road that she spoke.
“I’m not supposed to say anything. I’m not really even supposed to know.”
“Know what?” This family sure had its secrets.
“Diana volunteered for the Special Operations Executive. She just finished her training. That’s why she was home. She’s going off on a mission.”
“SOE? She’s a spy?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “When is she leaving?”
“Next Sunday at the latest. Maybe sooner.”
“Where?” Silence again.
“Across the channel. Exactly where doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
Now I understood why she had been so desperate to talk with a stranger rather than lie awake in her room, alone with her thoughts and fears.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Daphne drove single-mindedly, focusing on the road and putting the Riley Imp through its paces. There was no chatting. She took corners like a pro and wasn’t afraid to open up on a long, straight stretch of road. If I hadn’t known she was thinking about Diana and worrying, I would have believed she was enjoying herself. I watched her gloved hands flex, fingers opening, then gripping the leather-bound steering wheel, over and over again. The desperation inside her had to come out somewhere.
We drove through farmland and small villages, mostly green wooded land and cultivated fields separated by hedges and stone walls. The land dipped down to the sea the closer we came to the base at Southwold. I was looking at the scenery but seeing Diana. I had never met anybody like her, and no woman had ever made me feel this way, like all the air had gone out of a room when she left it. It seemed that everything else had been just going through the motions before I met her, as if my life had been empty without my realizing it. I felt strange, like I had left some part of me behind.
Damn! Why did she have to get all gung ho and volunteer to be an SOE agent? Would I ever see her again? At least the captain made sense to me now. He knew Diana was about to leave on a mission and didn’t want her mooning over some Yank. He was trying to help her keep focused. Focused on staying alive. He didn’t know how badly she needed a shoulder to cry on, how desperate she’d been for distraction from her spiraling fear-and shame. All that “one must do one’s duty” stuff had worn too thin after what she’d been through. I hoped I was more to her than just a handy shoulder. I kinda thought I was, but then how would I ever find out with her off sneaking around behind enemy lines? Not too much I could do about that right now.
Daphne downshifted as she took a sharp turn, then punched the accelerator hard enough to snap my neck back. At least she had a machine to take out her frustrations on.
I thought about cold water and its effect on the human body. How did that fit together with maps, spies, suspects, and suspicious British majors? It was all still a jumble, but a few things were beginning to stand out. Unfortunately, other things still lurked-vague images that failed to clarify into answers, or even connections. I looked at my watch.
“Almost there, Billy.” Daphne gave me a weak smile and then downshifted again, passing a farmer on his cart, causing the Imp to growl in low gear as we sped by the country perfume of manure ready to be spread.
“How’re you doing? You OK?”
“Better, yes, thank you. Nothing like a morning drive in the Imp to cheer one up!” she said with a false bravado that was almost convincing. “Look there, Billy, that must be the way to the base.”
Up ahead a column of U.S. Army deuce-and-a-half trucks was turning off the main road. We followed slowly, and as the distraction of fast driving faded, I could see the traces of worry working away at her face, bringing the corners of her mouth down.
“I’m sure she’ll be all right,” I said, trying to reassure both of us. “Diana seems like a tough cookie.”
“That must mean she knows how to take care of herself, which she does indeed. It’s the emotional price she has to pay that worries me. She made it back from France in one piece, but it wasn’t easy for her afterward. She saw so many terrible things.”
“Why do you think she volunteered? And please don’t give me any of that ‘doing one’s duty’ stuff. Why her?”
Daphne took a deep breath and exhaled. “I asked her exactly that. She said she owed it to those men who died when the destroyer sank. She wouldn’t say any more.”
“Think she feels guilty that she lived through it?”
“How would joining SOE help?”
I shrugged, as if it were too much for me to figure out. But I knew. I knew Diana was going to tempt death again. To see if she deserved to live. To see if those men slipping beneath the cold Channel waves would finally stop calling out to her.
We crested a small hill and saw the Southwold base ahead and to our left. The column of trucks was entering the gate. A fence extended in both directions, ending on the left at a river and on the right continuing into a stand of trees. I could smell the salt-water-laden air blowing in fresh off the North Sea. We slowed as we approached the gate and Daphne pulled out her orders, ready for inspection. She stopped next to the white-painted gatehouse, manned by one American and one British soldier. The American, a corporal with “Ranger” stitched on his shoulder patch, approached the car.
“Ma’am, sir. Can I help you?”
“We have orders to enter the base,” Daphne said, offering up a set of official documents, “and we’d like to see the base commander.”
The corporal glanced at the orders and handed them back to Daphne.
“You can try to see him, but he’s pretty busy. Better try the exec, Captain Gilmore.” He lifted the gate blocking the roadway. “Go straight and take your second left. Headquarters building is right there. Big sign on it.”
He smiled and waved us through. I turned around as we drove past. Neither sentry watched us as we went down the road.
“Pretty sloppy security,” I said. “He didn’t even check our IDs. We could be heading anywhere on this base.”
“Now that you mention it, Billy, isn’t it usually military police who guard base entrances?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Those weren’t MPs. Those clowns would let anyone in here.” Daphne took the second left and parked in front of a Quonset hut with HQ painted in red letters above the door. Pine trees rose up in back of the building, shading it from the weak warmth the June sun gave. The Imp attracted a few stares, and Daphne attracted quite a few looks herself when she stepped out. Nobody paid me much attention.
“Can I help you, miss?” A GI walked up to Daphne, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. There was a parachute patch on his fore and aft cap, and he wore paratroop boots shined to a mirror finish.
She smiled for a second. “That’s ‘Second Officer’ to you, Private. Accent on officer.”
Two of his buddies had hung back and were now laughing as his face reddened. He turned away from Daphne and nearly collided with me.
“Excuse me, sss-sir,” he stammered as he tried to pull off a salute and back up at the same time.
“Take it easy, soldier,” I said, returning the salute. “Just tell us where we can find the CO or Captain Gilmore.”