Dynes chose to ignore the question.
‘When are you going back to Germany?’
‘In three weeks’ time.’
‘Three weeks, eh? Have you told your mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did she take it?’
‘I am not sure if she appreciates the gravity of the situation. In her eyes, I have made my bed in Hamburg, and I must sleep in it. She sees my return home as a need to be closer to Otto, Karl and Renate.’
‘Your return home?’ he asked turning towards her.
‘When you live in two places, both are home, surely?’ It seemed obvious to her, but Dynes clearly needed to give it some thought. As usual, though, his expression did not betray what was on his mind.
‘You mentioned some intelligence?’ he said after a short while.
‘The Browns are heading north, they said. I imagine they will be heading for Scapa Flow.’
‘They won’t leave it alone, will they? Homage to the last war. Perhaps they are going to resurrect the German navy.’
‘Perhaps they have already. My understanding is that they are possibly going to assess Orkney’s use for their air force,’ she said.
‘Leave that one to me. We will be monitoring them closely.’
They proceeded down a second line of tombstones. Dead leaves scurried around their feet in the breeze. An occasional posy of winter pansies and holly berries brightened up the graveyard. She stopped at one gravestone to pay her respects.
‘Your family?’ Dynes asked.
‘No, a soldier friend of my father who was killed in the Ashanti wars in the West African Gold Coast.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Just a little. I would have been about ten or eleven years of age when I last saw him. As you can see, he was killed in 1901.’
‘So military service is ingrained in your family?’ asked Dynes. He wrapped his arms around his body to stave off the cold.
‘Yes. So it seems.’ He was right as I thought of my late father’s service in the army. It was chilly. She gave her scarf an extra turn around her neck.
‘How would you feel about some combat training before you return to Germany? It has been on my mind. You may find yourself in some tricky positions.’
Tricky positions. Things were becoming more serious than she had envisaged. Perhaps combat training would be in her best interests. ‘Can you arrange it?’ she asked cautiously. ‘As soon as possible?’ They could not afford to delay.
Long walks and swimming provided an explanation for her daily absences from the hotel, and she told Eicke the same thing. He was pleased to learn she was keeping herself fit, and told her that getting out was sure to produce information. The ‘information’ she gave him was of little consequence: some appropriate but ambiguous newspaper headlines kept him satisfied. He permitted her an extra two weeks before her return to Germany. That suited her perfectly.
The truth was the training proved gruelling, exhausting and at times painful. She would need time to recover. She arrived at the Cultybraggan camp near Comrie in Perthshire, where she crawled through bogs, climbed ivy roots to gain entry into an empty house, learned to use a handgun, route-marched and orienteered up hills and down glens. The ten days seemed long as she began a countdown towards the end. There were several other people, both men and women, who kept well to themselves clearly trained not to ask questions. She did detect they were not all British; one had a distinctive Nordic look about him. No one asked why she was there, a woman of almost fifty years of age, hardly an active servicewoman. Nevertheless, all felt fitter after the training.
By the time she shared her last day at home with her mother, Madge was beginning to suspect that there was more going on than Hilda was admitting. They spent the day playing rummy and drinking tea; her luggage was already packed and her one-way ticket was secure in her purse.
‘We may never see each other again,’ Madge said suddenly.
‘Let’s not talk that way, Mother. There are good people around, everywhere.’
‘And there are some whose ambitions are out of control.’
Hilda nodded. The winter sun was out, casting long tree shadows on the lawn. ‘What about a walk in the garden?’
Mother donned a winter coat, gloves and a scarf chosen more for warmth than style or colour. Hilda took her Brownie box camera with her.
‘Let me take a snap of you over here beside the plum red flowering berberis. ‘Don’t stand too near or it will prick you,’ she warned with a laugh. ‘Now over here, with the hotel as the backdrop.’
She saw Fergus looking out at them from the hotel back window. He disappeared, and arrived at the lower window seconds later, very much out of breath. He must have run down the staircase at speed, probably missing every second step, then he sprinted along the corridor to the back door and then out to their company.
‘Here… let me take a… picture of you both. How many… pictures have you left… in the spool?’ he panted.
‘Catch your breath first, Fergus. It’s a twenty-four exposure film and I’ve got ten left to take.’
Fergus placed mother and daughter shoulder to shoulder, and again in the same position but in close-up. He snapped away from various angles and against different backdrops until there were only three photos left. Hilda insisted on taking one of him with her mother, and then he completed the reel with two of her alone.
Darkness fell soon afterwards and she went outside once more after supper to gaze at the stars. She wondered if Otto was seeing the same stars, and if Karl and Renate would see them this night too. She told herself they would.
When would she return to Forres? Would her mother still be here? If the hotel was sold, where would she find herself? She felt as if an embracing, protective Scottish arm was slipping from her shoulders. Alternatively, was it that she was already adjusting to being back in a Germany full of fear?
The Hamburg ship lay in Aberdeen harbour. It was the Columbus, and the swastika was flying on its stern. From the moment she stepped on board, she would resume her Frau Richter persona and be a German widow once again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Thornton appear. He greeted her.
‘A final farewell?’ she asked
‘I hope not. I hope you will be back in a year, if not before. We need to know what is happening in Germany, and you are in a prime position. You must stay alert, and note every detail. Make room in your memory. Do you have your radio with you?’
‘No, I deliberately left it hidden in the hotel, to tempt the German Abwehr to let me return to use it.’
‘Will Eicke not be annoyed?’
‘Not at all. Eicke sent a message to say I would get a new set in Hamburg, to contact German agents in Britain. He told me to destroy my set. It would not get past British customs.’
‘And did you?’
‘Of course not. It may come in handy one day. I assure you I will stay loyal to Britain. I know it will not be easy, but I will do the best I can. You have my word.’
‘Of course, I expect nothing else. All that’s left then is for me to wish you well and pray you will be safe.’
She suddenly felt a shiver down her spine. The gravity of Thornton’s tone almost made her forget something important. She opened her handbag and gave him the film. ‘Can I ask you to have this spool developed? Send me a copy of each picture, and another set to my mother. You don’t mind?’
‘And not one to Mr Dynes or me?’
‘Not unless you want photos of the hotel grounds and its occupants.’ They both laughed, and the tension eased.
She was about to thank him when he lunged forward. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he gave her a firm hug instead. When he released her they exchanged awkward gazes, and she thanked him, then gathered her hand luggage and made her way to the gangway.