Fifteen
1943
“This is London, St Pancras,” announced the tinny wall speakers as Lily stepped down from the Leicester train. She looked at her written instructions once again and confirmed that she was to take a taxi to Onslow Gardens in Kensington. There she must ring the bell of apartment number one delineated by the name Mr Belshaw.
Lily stood at the top of the steps leading up to the door from the pavement. She stood between the grand pillars that held the porch and pushed the bell. A middle aged woman in a floral print dress answered the door and invited her in.
Lily was shown into a large carpeted room fronting the street. There were two large sofas either side of a low table and a fire blazed encouragingly in the grate. Above the grand mantel there was a full length oil painting of King George VI in ceremonial dress. After studying it for a moment Lily walked to the large bay window and observed the desultory activity in the street below. From here, London looked unaffected by the war, but her journey across town in the taxi had shown her some of last night’s damage caused by the Luftwaffe. However, life and work continued unbowed by the devastation.
Lily wondered if Goering knew that his efforts were not denting English morale but perversely drawing the people closer together. If anyone dared tell him she wondered if he would believe it.
The smart woman re-appeared and invited Lily to follow her upstairs. They went as far as the first landing where Lily was shown into the room directly above the one she had waited in. There were two men in the room; one she knew, one she didn’t.
“Welcome Lily,” said Andrew Trubshaw warmly as he came around a large solid desk to greet her. “Allow me to introduce a valued colleague of mine.”
Lily let go of Andrew’s hand and turned to face the stranger. She saw a tall, blonde, handsome man who was reaching out a hand to greet her. Although his smile was strong there was something missing in his eyes which meant they were not illuminated as they should have been. It was as if some tragedy shadowed his expression.
“This is Sean Colquhoun,” Andrew said. “We are hoping you will get along together. We have high hopes for you.”
The man said, “Pleased to meet you Lily. I’ve been hearing all about you.”
Lily had been in Britain long enough to recognise his soft lilting accent as Irish. She felt his hand encircling her own. It was weathered but warm and she warned herself not to be fooled by first impressions even though this one was very positive.
“I have been telling Sean about your recent experience of British justice.”
Sean gave an ironic snort. “It comes as no surprise to me. We Irish are well versed in the behaviour of our next door neighbours.”
“Joking aside,” said Andrew. “I want you to know that what happened to you is unacceptable and that Peter Herbert has been dealt with. He has been dismissed from the force for gross misconduct. That was as much to do with his treatment of you as with his inappropriate membership of a banned, fascist political party. He is currently interned in Norfolk as a potential threat to the safety of the realm.”
“I’d rather not think about Mr Herbert,” said Lily.
* * *
Trubshaw had visited Lily in Leicester Prison. After his second visit she was released to his custody and was allowed home. He visited her every day in her home and interrogated her. He had queried every detail of her past. He had attempted to flush out any latent Nazism that might have remained within her whilst feigning liberal attitudes. He argued in favour of eugenics; he suggested that all Christians were anti-Semites and that Hitler was just more honest than everyone else; he introduced discussions on race policy and put forward convincing proofs of Slavic and Negro inferiority. Lily could not be trapped. She was consistent in her beliefs. She became vehement in her opposition to his loathsome attitudes.
Finally, one afternoon as Andrew was putting on his coat to return to his hotel, he said, “But the trouble is Lily, you and I both know this is all play-acting. Your position in all of our arguments could be just as false as mine.”
“I know,” she said. “I wish I had never volunteered myself for His Majesty’s Service.” Tears pricked her eyes as she went on. “I truly wanted to help. I thought my inside knowledge of German and Germany might make a small contribution to helping win the war. Now I wish I had kept my head down.”
She put a handkerchief to her eyes and could not look at Andrew. “Why don’t you forget about me?” she asked. “If you cannot be sure, why not just go away and leave me to go back to nursing.”
Andrew looked at her realising that here was the nub of the situation. Yes he could easily go away and let her get on with her nursing. But then he might be turning down the opportunity of deploying an agent of incalculable value; a woman whose activities might save hundreds or even thousands of British soldiers’ lives if used in the right way. It was then that he decided to give up on the routine he was employing and to put her through a final test.
He had left saying nothing more than, “I will be in touch.”
When the test came, Lily proved herself in a way that Trubshaw could not have expected. Her instructions had arrived in sequence. First, the local lamplighter had knocked on her door and handed her a note that he said a stranger had paid him to deliver. The message was in an encrypted code which she deciphered using the book Andrew had provided for her. Go to London Road Station, it said, buy a platform ticket and wait under the clock on platform 2.
Watching travellers disembark from the recent arrival from Sheffield, she was approached by a young woman in a military uniform and handed a ticket, an envelope and a small brown package. The woman briskly walked away.
Lily had opened the envelope and read, “Go to Central Station and catch the 2.40pm to Coventry. Do not open the package until you arrive in Coventry. Visit the Ladies on Coventry station and open it there. Further instructions will follow.”
Lily went out of London Road Station and walked across town to Central Station. It was a sunny but cold spring afternoon and she wondered at the birds singing in the trees lining New Walk as if it was a normal day.
Her train to Coventry took over an hour and had no heating. In the Ladies convenience she locked herself in a cubicle and opened her package. She was not altogether surprised to find herself holding a service revolver, the handle cold in her hand. She opened the barrel and examined the six bullets. An ironic smile twisted her lips. ‘If this is a game’ she thought ‘it’s getting damn silly.’ But if it is not she would show them she could go through with it.
Strapped to the barrel of the revolver with an elastic band was another note, “The bus station cafeteria. Buy a pot of tea and a piece of toast. You will be met. Treat stranger as a close friend.”
The walk across Coventry could not have been a greater contrast to the walk across Leicester. Here was a war zone. The remnants of the destroyed cathedral stood against a greying sky like the ruins of a medieval castle. There were ragged children in the street in flimsy clothes that would provide no protection against the cold.
The bus station cafeteria was deserted apart from one grizzled old man in a corner beside a wall heater. Lily was waited on by a woman in her fifties who dangled a cigarette from her lips as she took the order for tea and toast.
Lily was finding it difficult to squeeze another drop of tea out of the pot when finally the door swung open and, along with a bitter draught from the street, in swept a man in his late twenties. He was clean shaven and wore a belted brown gabardine mac and a brown trilby. He approached her table removing his hat, exposing some premature hair loss.
“Mary,” he called out attracting as much attention as he could from the grizzled tramp and the smoking waitress. “How good to see you!”
Lily rose not knowing what to say except, “It’s good to see you too.”
To her horror he threw his arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth. She caught the intimate smell of beer on his breath and felt his hands caress her back. She pushed herself carefully but forcefully away. He had a wicked grin on his face as he looked into her eyes. “Come on, love,” he said. “We must get going. We’ll miss our bus.”
Lily paid her bill and they exited into the gathering gloom of the cold dusk. They sat upstairs on a number 33 bus and her companion smoked without offering her a cigarette. They left the city centre behind and came to a downtown housing area with row after row of terraces. Some children played in the streets between the houses and women stood on doorsteps, smoking and chatting with neighbours. On every street there were houses splintered in ruins. Sometimes whole rows were missing, only rubble providing an adventure playground for the children. Miraculously, some houses stood out unscathed. They could not help appearing proud and disdainful of their absent neighbours.
They came to an area where tall factory chimneys belched out smoke that hastened the black of night and Lily’s companion stood up. They went downstairs and jumped off at the next stop. As they walked along the street Lily felt her arm gripped by her companion and they strode along like any couple. Suddenly he pulled her into a factory doorway and leant up against her.
“Okay Mary. Listen well! Your job today is to assassinate a German agent who has been guiding the Luftwaffe to the most sensitive areas of this ravaged city. He is responsible for hundreds of lost civilian lives. This is how we are going to do it. He works as a clerk in the offices of this factory. We are going to enter the offices and I will show my counterfeit papers which declare that I am an undercover military policeman. We will request a tour of their stockroom to check that their supplies agree with the paperwork they have submitted. We are investigating black marketeering. We will insist that this agent accompanies us. When we reach the stockroom and are away from the rest of the workforce I will offer him a cigarette. I will ensure that he has his back to you as I light his cigarette. At this point you will call out in German. You will say, ‘This is a trap. That cigarette is poisoned.’ If he refuses to smoke the cigarette we will know that he has understood your German. He will not want us to know he is a German speaker but he will die if he smokes the cigarette. If he does not smoke – you kill him.” He stared into Lily’s eyes looking for a reaction. There was none.
Everything went just as her contact had said it would, except, that is, for Lily’s part. Her partner was extremely convincing. His papers and his authoritative manner convinced the office receptionist immediately of their credentials and when the factory manager came out to the front desk he too was immediately cowed into agreeing to their demands to see the administrative clerk. The clerk looked confused and flustered but agreed to take them to the stockroom and bring his files along with him. On entering the stockroom Lily’s partner made sure they would not be disturbed by locking the door. He then took out his cigarettes and lighter and offered the increasingly anxious clerk a smoke. He manoeuvred himself so that he was facing Lily. The man stooped to put his cigarette to the lighter flame and Lily raised the gun. Her partner glanced at her over the clerk’s shoulder. His eyes screamed ‘get on with it!’
In a calm, clear voice Lily called out, “Dies ist ein Witz. Die Zigarette ist Kandi.” As she expected, the clerk’s face dissolved into panic and he threw the cigarette away from him across the storeroom floor. Lily strode across the room towards them, her gun held at shoulder height. Her partner stepped to one side, out of the line of fire. He studied her closely. Why was she approaching? Why did she not fire? She had a clear shot! His eyes began to widen in non-comprehension and the clerk turned fully to face her. He found himself staring into the barrel of Lily’s gun, now held an inch from his face. The clerk fell to his knees and began pleading. In that instant, Lily pulled the trigger. The stockroom echoed to the empty sound of a resounding click. The barrel had been empty. The clerk and the agent stared at her in shocked silence. Before they could recover their wits, Lily threw the gun to the floor. Then out of her other hand she let the six cartridges spill, she had removed them before entering the stockroom.
“Tell Andrew Trubshaw, if that’s who set up this farce, that I wanted to be involved in serious work against the German Nazis. I do not want to take part in ridiculous charades. If this is the best he can come up with, tell him I’ll get back to nursing.”
Lily strode out of the stockroom. She knew that the cartridges were blanks and she became convinced that the whole thing was a set up when the clerk threw his cigarette away in horror when she informed him in German that his cigarette was made of candy. The smile on her lips was more satisfaction than humour.
When John Rigger, for that was the security agent’s name, reported back to Andrew, he could not keep the enthusiasm from his voice when he described Lily’s behaviour.
“She had us both going for a minute. Poor old Peter. He knew we’d got blanks in the gun but when he saw how close she was to his face he nearly shit himself. She was cool Andrew. Cool as a cucumber. If you take her on I’ll work with her anytime you say.”
Andrew Trubshaw spent a long time considering Rigger’s report. He was pleased that Rigger was so positive about Lily. An experienced agent’s gut feeling is often the best guide a spy master can have. But he knew it was not conclusive. He played out the options in his mind. If Lily was a Nazi agent she would have had no problem in eliminating another Nazi if her mission was to penetrate the British Secret Service. However, if she had guessed the ruse, why not go ahead with the fake assassination? What impressed him the most, as it had Rigger, was her honesty. Taking on Lily would be a judgement call. But all of his work was. Despite his strong desire to enlist her he might have erred on the side of safety and sent her back to nursing in Leicester. However, in the early days of nineteen forty-three a certain project folder had landed on his desk. He immediately realised she was the one agent who could possible carry out this mission; if only she could be successfully paired up with a certain Irish agent who was already experienced in the field.
Andrew Trubshaw began to explain the nature of the mission they were being asked to consider, “The first thing I have to say is that neither of you are under any obligation to carry out this mission. As well as extremely dangerous, with strong possibilities that things could go wrong, you may find the proposal extremely distasteful. Even in the context of the work we do the proposal might repel you.”
Lily and Sean looked at each other, neither quite knowing what to say.
“What I must say is that you will need to keep the bigger picture in mind as you delve into the details of this proposed operation. I also, in fairness, have to tell you this. If you two do not agree to go operational on this, the whole project will be shelved. It is not possible for us to find another two people with your unique qualities and experiences to be able to continue. In the truest of senses, this is your mission.”
“When can we stop going around the houses Andrew?” asked Sean. “We need details if we are ever going to make a decision.”
“Yes, you’re right Sean, but we must take things in order. There are some important facts you must know before I disclose the nature of the mission; facts which might lead you to turn the job down anyway.”
“Well,” said Lily. “Let’s hear them.”
Andrew gave her a satisfied look, pleased to recognise the cool rational approach which he had come to expect from her.
“Number one,” he said, “you will be behind enemy lines for up to three months.”
He waited for them to take that in.
“The time could be shorter, but we have to prepare you for the possible limit.”
He stared at each of them in turn. When he got no reaction he went on.
“You will be living in Munich. Think about that,” he emphasised. “Bomber Command will not be ceasing operations for the duration of your stay. You will have to take your chances with the rest of civilian Munich.”
Sean dragged one side of his mouth into a stoical half smile. He looked at Lily. Her face was immobile.
“You will have to live together as man and wife. And I mean convincingly.”
Lily said calmly, “I take it you will leave how convincingly up to us!”
“Of course,” replied Andrew, “As long as convincingly is very convincing!”
Sean felt himself beginning to blush and he brushed his scalp in an awkward effort to distract his own attention. Lily turned and smiled for the first time. She looked at Sean and said, “I am sure I will find Mr Colquhoun a very considerate husband.”
Sean could find nothing to say, so Andrew rescued him by saying, “By the way Lily, it is not Mr Colquhoun but Dr Colquhoun. You will be Dr and Mrs Hermann. And that fact is crucial to your mission.”
Andrew then allowed a silence to fill the space. Eventually he said, “Lily you need to know that Sean has completed missions for us before. It has involved him using his skills as a doctor in what we refer to as a combative function. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“I think so,” replied Lily. “You mean that Sean has made some compromises with his Hippocratic oath in the light of current hostilities.”
Sean turned to look at her. There was a look in his eyes that might have been hurt, or it might have been curiosity. She met his gaze and her eyes held his.
“I’m sure he is not the only one in this barbaric age we live in who has been forced to step down from the pedestal of high principle in the struggle for survival.”
Her delivery left them to decide whether she was being earnest or disparaging. Sean’s mouth twisted again into a half smile. He had squared his actions with his conscience and had no need for her approval.
“Okay, enough for today,” said Andrew. “You need time together and time alone together. You need time away from here. You must consider your positions. If either of you wants out – that’s enough for me. You must want to do this mission if I am going to let it proceed. There will be no pressure from me and I hope neither of you will pressurise the other.”
“Andrew,” said Sean. “You haven’t told us what the mission is.”
“I don’t need to until I know you can make a convincing couple.”
Lily and Sean looked at each other again; both trying to imagine what it would be like living as man and wife.
“I expect you’re both thinking that you need to get to know each other. Well we’ve made some arrangements that we hope you will find acceptable.”
He opened a drawer in his desk and reached into it. He retrieved something from it and closed the drawer.
“Here,” he said, dropping a key on the desk in front of them “is the key to your home for the next two weeks.” Ignoring their surprised expressions he continued, “Living the role begins now. We need to find out if you two will find marital bliss.”
“But surely you can give us some idea about the mission?” demanded Lily.
“It will be an assassination! I will tell you that much. But until we know that you two can work as a married couple we have no need to inform you further. We may find that you are incompatible as a team and this project can be aborted. I probably shouldn’t say this, but part of me hopes you two prove incompatible.”
The existence shared by Sean and Lily over the next two weeks was a strange mixture of independence and confinement. Andrew had arranged for them to live in a semi-detached house in Highgate. It was close to the tube station. They spent their days wandering around the city visiting interesting sites, and most of their time was their own. But each morning the postman would deliver a list of suggested visits or activities from Andrew that he expected them to carry out that day. Thus they had tea at the Ritz and took in a matinee at the Windmill. They watched the Woolwich Arsenal play against Tottenham Hotspur, which was a very competitive game, despite the fact that the League competition was suspended for the duration of hostilities; they toured St Paul’s Cathedral and even sailed on the Serpentine. Wherever they went, they were followed.
In between scheduled visits they found a little café called the Carlton Tea Rooms on Drury Lane which they repaired to each afternoon. They were both self-conscious of the fact that they were trying to construct a friendship out of necessity rather than desire, but to their relief and pleasure the friendship came along easily. Sean made Lily laugh effortlessly. But there was no laughter in his soul. His slightly sideways view on life tickled her and she found herself often giggling helplessly like a schoolgirl. Whenever this happened she realised he was watching her humourlessly, as if intrigued by the very mechanism of laughter itself. She was aware that some part of this man had closed down. He was acting a superb part but it was not him. Should she be afraid of this? Was she being tested again? Or was this man concealing his true intentions? Well she would do her best to discover the truth over the next two weeks. If it did not happen, she could tell Andrew she wanted out of the whole mission.
Their favourite activity and one which they took to repeating on most days was to attend the music concerts that were held around London at lunchtime.
On their fourth day together they went along to a C of E church in Earls Court where a string quartet and a German pianist, a Jewish refugee, were performing two Mozart piano concertos. Lily and Sean arrived in good time and found seats in the second row of pews right in front of where the musicians would perform on the altar steps. It was their first such concert and they had not known what to expect. The first thing that struck them was the crowd that gathered. It was small and not representative of anything much at all. Although made up of predominantly older people, most escaping from work during a lunch break, there were some young men and women. It was stimulating just to look at them and to wonder what their lives were like and how they had been affected personally by the war. The off-duty fighter pilot, alone, no girlfriend in tow; the three women factory workers all in headscarves and bib and tuck uniforms; the young soldier and his adoring girlfriend, clinging to each other as in the last throws of a final goodbye. The music brought a oneness upon them, forming their mood and demanding their attention.
Three young women and two elderly men had taken to the altar. The women and one of the men carried their instruments with them; a violin, a viola, a cello and a double bass. The second man was obviously the pianist. The women were striking in appearance and their confidence, obviously drawn from their musical accomplishments, gave them a powerful attraction. All five were dressed in black, the women in long dresses and the men in somewhat faded dinner suits.
As they played, Sean found his gaze settling upon the lead violinist. She led the group in with strong movements and Sean could not help but be attracted to the physicality of her playing. She wore her jet black hair in a short bob. Despite that stark difference, she reminded him of Martha. Her high cheekbones glowed under the intensity of her smile, which she could not prevent lighting up her face from time to time as the music triggered her emotions. Her joy revealed a white-toothed smile that could have been Martha’s.
To his embarrassment, Sean became aware that she had been returning his stare for some time and that her smile was directed towards him. He looked away and saw that Lily was smiling at him too.
At the end of the first concerto the musicians left the altar to enthusiastic applause. After a moment, the lead violinist returned, followed by an elderly black man wearing a guitar around his neck. He was tall and good looking and was dressed in jeans and an open-necked shirt. The lead violinist introduced him as Moses Abraham, a folk singer from Southern Oklahoma.
Moses Abraham stepped forward and spoke about his life in America. His father had been born a slave but had been emancipated by Abraham Lincoln. He himself made his living playing and writing folk songs. He had joined a group of folk singers including Woody Guthrie, Cisco Houston and Hudie Leadbetter, who supported America’s entry to the war on the Allies’ side during the heyday of the America First movement, which was headed up by Charles Lindburgh. Lindburgh and his crew had campaigned to keep America neutral. Their support for neutrality was a front for their pro-Nazi sympathies.
Moses Abraham then sang two songs, accompanying himself on the guitar. The first was called Little Charlie Lindburgh and talked about Lindburgh’s trip to Berlin and the Iron Cross that Hitler had awarded him. The second was a song about dust bowl refugees and the terrible injustices they encountered at the hands of Californians. Moses Abraham sang in a deep, soulful timbre which filled the church with emotion. He enhanced his singing with his simple but effective guitar playing. Sean was enchanted and moved by his performance. He turned to look at Lily, expecting to see her smiling in appreciation but instead caught a stony cast to her expression which surprised him.
When Moses Abraham left the altar the musicians returned to play the second Mozart concerto. The church was filled with the most unexpected beauty by this tiny group of musicians and as they left, Sean and Lily were at first reluctant to break the spell by speaking.
When they were seated at their usual booth in the Carlton Tea Rooms drinking hot, strong chicory essence, Lily was the first to speak, “I think the lead violinist took a shine to you back there.”
Sean almost ducked in embarrassment. Then he smiled self deprecatingly.
“Oh I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps I let myself get carried away by the music. I have a feeling the poor girl was staring back in self defence.”
“Don’t be so modest,” laughed Lily. “You are a good looking man. Any woman would be glad to attract you.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth there was a joint realisation of the implication of her comment. After a momentary sheepish surprise they both laughed out loud and looked for something to divert the conversation in a different direction. It was the first time Lily had seen Sean laugh.
“What did you think of the American folk singer?” asked Sean.
“You mean the Negro?” replied Lily. “I don’t see how a Negro can claim to be American. He is obviously African.”
A bit taken aback, Sean said, “If you’re going to say that, the only Americans you would give the name to are the Indians.”
Lily seemed to realise the impossibility of her position and laughed at herself.
“Did you not like Moses Abraham?” asked Sean, remembering her expression as she had listened to him.
“Oh, very much so,” she answered, but now altogether convincingly. “I thought he had a beautiful singing voice, although his guitar playing was primitive. But I thought he was hard on Charles Lindburgh. That poor man and his wife lost their son to kidnappers. I didn’t like the way he criticised him.”
“I thought the accompaniment enhanced the emotion of the songs,” Sean replied slightly non-plussed by her comments, but he decided to let it go.
On the way back to the tube station Lily slipped her arm into Sean’s as they were now used to doing, and to the world at large they were like any other happy couple. In fact, the world might have concluded they were in love.
There were moments when their intimacy made Sean feel guilty. He would think that he should be sharing moments like these with Martha, not with Lily. But then he would think that if he was with Martha, there would not be these moments. He knew that the time for moments such as these with Martha had passed forever. His new daughter was a stranger to him and probably would remain so. When Martha had told him to get out of her life for good there had been no equivocation in her command.
Out in public there were times when individuals would look at them disapprovingly. One old veteran had reported them to the local police station. His accusation was that they were obviously enemy agents. When asked why, he had said that the Irish accent of the man had alerted him, but when the German accent came from the woman he had been convinced. A phone call to Andrew Trubshaw had swiftly sorted the matter but the incident was a constant source of amusement to them and they would often seek out a likely looking codger, put on the thickest accents, resort to speaking in fluent German and make obscure references to security in the hope that they might trigger another similar reaction. They were amazed how often they were completely ignored. “Maybe it is not so difficult to be a spy in England,” Lily had said.
Since moving into the semi-detached house they had stuck to agreed, though unspoken, routines. Lily always left the living room first to prepare for bed. Whilst she was moving between the bedroom and bathroom Sean always remained downstairs. Sometimes he would read; sometimes he would listen to the wireless. Once he left the house and went to a call box. He dialled Martha’s number but he did not wait to be connected.
When he could hear that Lily was settled he would go upstairs himself and wash before getting into bed. On their fourth night together he was dismayed to find himself picturing Lily as she lay alone in her bed. He wrestled the thought from his mind and fell into a dream-filled sleep.
By the end of the first week they both knew that they liked and were comfortable with each other. Sean could not be sure but he had started to believe that when Lily slipped her hand into his as they walked along the street, the touch was more meaningful, more urgent than it had been at the beginning. One thing he was sure of; he liked it more and more each day. But he liked it the way he would enjoy observing something pleasant happening to someone else.
Twice Lily had asked Sean leading questions about his past in an attempt to get him to open up to her about the climate of sadness that enveloped him. She intuitively believed there was another man inside. There had been fleeting glimpses of him on occasions when some humorous event had surprised them both. But Sean had not been ready to share his tragedy with her.
“You are a very well house-trained man,” Lily laughed on their second Saturday evening together as Sean got up from the dinner table and began clearing away the dishes.
“We Irish are a domesticated breed,” he asserted. “We would make excellent housewives if only the women would let us stay at home.”
Lily stood to help him and Sean found himself looking at her bare neck and arms, and the tiny glimpse of cleavage as she stooped to rise. He went quickly into the kitchen and began to wash the dishes at the sink. In due course Lily followed him through with the rest of the pots and, after placing them on the bench beside him, moved to stand behind him. She leaned over his shoulder and peered at the dishes in the bowl.
“Let me see how well an Irishman washes dishes,” she teased.
Sean said nothing, just carried on washing, but his back could feel the firm pressure of Lily’s breasts. He had no notion of what to say or do. All he knew was he did not want to move and bring this sensation to an end. The smell of her perfume faded as she went back into the living room to wait for him.
Later as they sat playing cards, Sean knew that a decision had been made for him. No matter how hard he tried to bring Martha into his mind he could not do it. She remained faint and distant.
The greatest surprise to Sean was how easily he had accepted unfaithfulness. No matter how deeply he searched he could find nothing within him to encourage him to resist. He even wondered if he was being unfaithful to Martha. The strangest twinge troubled him when he thought of Grete, however.
It was at the moment when she said, “I think I’ll go up to bed now,” that Sean felt another person take control. He got up too and said simply, “Me too.”
Lily turned at the door. Her face held a mixture of surprise and triumph. When Sean reached her they embraced immediately like lovers. There was no preparatory exploration. Her lips sought his and her tongue darted into his mouth. A thousand walls came crashing down inside Sean. He returned the pressure of her body against his and before he knew it he had her skirt up above her waist and his hands were caressing the whites of her thighs above her stockings. She placed her hands upon his shoulders to gently restrain him and whispered into his ear, “Not here, come with me.”
Sean followed her up to her room, his mind a wild tornado of imagery. Martha was there, flashing in and out of his thoughts, and her presence made the passion for Lily all the more erotic. Grete was there too. He was ashamed and the shame made his desire more powerful still. As he followed Lily to her room he could not keep his hands from her. By the time she had drawn the curtains they were unable to control themselves even long enough to undress. She pulled his belt free as he raised her skirt and pulled her panties aside. She lay on the bed as he rubbed her triangle, but she stopped him as he attempted to enter her with his fingers. She pulled him onto her and guided him inside. The dark, wet heat made him groan uninhibitedly. As he penetrated her he lifted her blouse over her head and removed her bra, exposing her full breasts. He kissed the proud, upright nipples before she rolled him over to be on top. Drawing her legs up either side of his trunk she rode him like a girl on a pony. His big hands roamed over her back, her breasts, her buttocks. He reached up and caressed her cheeks. He drew her down to kiss her lips and he whispered, “I must come out. I am ready to finish.”
“No!” she screamed as she rode him harder. “You must come. You must come!”
“But we’re not protected,” Sean said breathlessly.
She leaned down, her wide mouth on his face, her vagina parting wider to take him further in. “It’s all right,” she moaned, “It’s my fifth day.”
As the words entered his consciousness, Sean fell off a cliff. His mind roared with the image of the forbidden and the unclean and the contradiction of the purity of love. And in the drowsy aftermath Sean opened his soul to Lily and cried his heart out in her naked embrace. Lily cried too to hear of the terrible tragedy that had stricken the Colquhoun family and washed this man up here preparing to wage a one man war against Nazi Germany.