Shadow of things to come

High Barnet, London, 6th August 1948

I was hot and sweaty by the time I'd ridden the tube out to High Barnet station and walked wearily to the small house I owned there. The crowds had driven the temperature of the carriage up to something resembling a blast furnace and my blouse was still sticking to my me under the uniform jacket. I could have changed into the summer dress I'd brought but I'd lost heart after receiving the message from Sara so I kept my uniform on and endured the crowds. As it thinned out towards the end of the line it grew a little cooler but I'd been relieved to stagger out of the station. The house was small and from the outside was fairly basic. Built after the Great War it had been built to fill a small plot on a strip of land and as a result it hadn't attracted a high price. Out of sight with a low hedge and a small stone chip driveway it was ignored amidst its more affluent neighbours. That fact alone made it perfect for me. The small sheltered garden was just a bonus.I'd not been home for three months but I'd sent a cable to the woman I employed to keep the place tidy so I knew that there would be food in the fridge along with several cold bottles I hoped. The air inside was blessedly cool after the baking heat outside and within three paces of locking the door behind me the blue jacket was on the floor and I'd opened the blouse to my stomach. The compact living room with its two seater sofa and armchair taking up all of the space offered no appeal and I stepped through, ignoring the mound of post on the card table. A job for later. I dumped the bag on the heavy table in the next room and wearily checked the fridge in the kitchen. Four beer bottles. I grimaced at the label. Robinsons weren't my favourite but they'd do. Cracking the top on the edge of the counter top I took a sip with a sigh and unlocked the doors out to the garden. The small flagged space was only a little longer than I was tall but it was a perfect sun trap and none of the other houses were able to overlook it. As a result I didn't need to worry about what anyone thought if they saw me sat with my blouse open and a beer bottle in my hand. I ignored the rumble which reminded me that I'd not eaten since mid morning but the bench in the sun was a moment of peace in a difficult day. Sighing I slid the parcel and bits of official post from my bag. With a brief hesitation I picked up the official post first and slit the first envelope with my thumb. "Please be aware that your mandatory yearly physical assessment will take place on..."I screwed the letter up and tossed it into an empty plant pot. I'd been due to take that physical for the last two years and I had no intention of being prodded and poked if I could avoid it. The next two letters were similarly examples of officialdom and went the same way. The last was a written order for me to carry out a two week training course about the threat of Communist infiltration starting the following week. I took a large swig from the beer bottle at the realisation I wasn't getting out of that one and that I would need to dig out my other white blouses for that one. Boring talk from old duffers who felt that any factory worker who asked for a pay rise was a communist. Still, at least I wouldn't be being shot at for a while. The parcel was all that was left and the foreign postmarks caught my eye. Aachen. Not a place I knew but the mark was clear. When I unwrapped it several sheets of paper dropped onto my lap along with a lightweight package in tissue and a heavy square object. 'Dear Sirius,I trust this finds you recovered and safely back in that ancient relic of a palace you call home. With luck this will reach you before you return there and that your report of events did not end up causing you issues. I would also like to apologise for the liberty I took that evening.'I snorted at the realisation the letter was from Gustav and the memory of the 'liberty' which he was referring to. Once I'd come round and helped him dump the corpse in the river I'd started to walk away until he'd called me. Turning to look back I'd suddenly felt his lips firmly pressing against mine. I blushed at the memory of my little squeak of protest and when he'd broken the contact he'd given me a knowing look and turned away down the river. I'd stood there with my heart pounding and trying to convince myself that it was just the exhaustion which was causing that.'I have reported back to the Minister and ensured that he was well aware of your contribution. In particular he was most interested in your bladework. I fear I did not do it the full justice it deserved but he has insisted that I stress his desire to meet you to discuss such things should you ever be within the Reich. As you know his love of fencing is significant and you piqued his interest.''That'll win me friends.' I sipped the beer, 'Fencing with Heydrich.' The bottle clinked as I put it down and I shifted to let a spot of sunlight shift a little.'We will take a further look to ensure no other creations exist and I have been promoted to run this investigation. I confess to a degree of guilt given that it was you who took the wounds and did the majority of the work. The Minister though asked me to send the enclosed.' At this I opened the small envelope and a small iron cross fell into my palm. I recognised it as the iron cross second class. 'A small token of recognition of the bravery. I would also like to say that I very much hope we can continue in correspondence after this. We are not popular in England I know but I would very much like to meet you again.' The suggestion caught me by surprise and left me more than a little troubled. I had enough enemies as it was but precious few friends. I pushed the thought away and carried on, 'On my way back I came across a copy of this and thought that it may interest you.' I unwrapped the firmer of the two parcels and a small leather bound book with gold embossed writing flickered in the evening sunlight. 'Rilke is not one of my favourites but you expressed an interest in some different German poets.' We'd ended up discussing poetry over breakfast that last morning. I'd not mentioned his embrace in the night but as we ate he saw the book of poems on the sideboard. I think it had surprised him but I'd pointed out that I wasn't some mindless berserker despite whatever rumours he had heard. Looking back though it was unlikely that it would have been in my file though as I had largely kept it hidden from the others in the corp; when I had mentioned it I'd come in for no small amount of mockery so I'd not bothered again. I'd brought the book with me as I knew that there was going to be some down time so it made sense. I'd told Gustav that I'd never ready any of German poetry he'd mentioned and I found myself more than a little touched that he'd made the gesture. I put the book down and held the soft package in one hand and carried on reading. 'You lost your outfit saving me from the creature in my apartment so it only seems fair that I replace it. I confess I have had to make an estimate on size but I believe it will do. In any event if you are willing to keep in touch then you can do so at.' I put the letter down and opened the parcel up; my eyes widening at the dress which opened up in my arms. A brilliant teal and azure creation fell out; the colour quite unlike anything I'd seen before. I held it up in the light and saw that it was a slightly lower cut than I usually wore and longer in length than the dress that I'd ruined after leaping in the Seine. Still though it was gorgeous and could not have been cheap. I felt a plug in my throat. I couldn't remember anyone ever buying me a dress before; and although I didn't consider myself interested in fashion I recognised beauty when I saw it. For long seconds I stared at it until the trilling of the phone brought me back to the present. Carrying the book, dress and letter back into the house I placed them on the small dining table before picking up the receiver. A chill gripped my heart as only one place even had the number.'Your presence is requested.' A woman's voice declared formally, 'Priority three.''Where.' My unease lessened; a priority three meant that it was not an attack on Artoria and was more likely a request from Scotland Yard for me.'Tower of London by the station. Fast as you can. Request of Command.''Understood.' I put the phone down and sighed. So much for my evening or indeed chance of even a shower. A 'fast as you can' from Corswain actually meant now. My skin crawled with the dust and sweat of the day but I buttoned up the blouse and scooped the jacket up and pulled it on. Grimacing at the weight of the fabric and locking the back door as I did so. I took a last glance at the dress and medal on the table and screwed up the reprimand from Corswain and tossed it into the unlit fire pit before heading out into the stifling air without a look back.