Code Red (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 3

The delicious aroma of home-cooked food greeted Waverly as she entered the dining room. Chrissy was already seated at the table, looking desperate to start eating, knowing it would be rude to do so. They could hear Nicole's voice talking to someone in the hall. "Thank you Mavis, I'll tell the girls where to leave their laundry for you."

Nicole entered the room, moving to a seat at the top of the table. She had changed for dinner. A pair of wide-flowing, pleated slacks, light grey in colour, were matched with a delicate mid-blue silk shirt. Very stylish, very modern thought Waverly, as she studied Nicole's form in the new clothes. Women simply didn't wear trousers before the 1940s. It wasn't until they started working in factories, doing men's work, they became part of their wardrobe, for safety reasons. At first, they wore men's trousers, but a growing workforce of women meant they eventually had to be tailored to their shape. Easier to work in than a skirt or dress, which could get caught in machinery. They quickly became part of everyday fashion, especially with the younger generation.

She had let her hair down, which had been tied back during the day. Gorgeous red curls fell over her shoulders. Did this woman know how stunning she looked, Waverly mused, as she sat gazing at her new boss. She was interrupted by Chrissy offering her a plate of cut ham from which she had just taken two slices. "I don't really eat meat," Waverly hesitated, putting the plate down beside her.

Chrissy looked confused. She had a very healthy appetite, as Waverly was beginning to realise. The thought of not eating meat simply didn't register with her. How could someone not eat meat? she thought. It's meat, as in meat.

"What are your food preferences?" Nicole asked, wanting to make sure the girls felt welcome in her home.

"I eat vegetables, cheese, just not very keen on meat or fish," Waverly replied, looking at Nicole apologetically.

"No fish!" Chrissy exclaimed, a little too loudly, as everyone looked at her. "Sorry," realising her incredulity had got the better of her. "Please tell me you eat dessert?" she asked, sending Waverly into a fit of giggles. Nicole sat at the other end of the table, smiling, listening to Waverly's laughter. This girl was going to grow on her.

The meal over, Nicole went to the fireplace and took out a cigarette from a silver box on the mantelpiece. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" she asked, lighting it, taking a long drag, exhaling smoke in a long sigh. "Do either of you smoke?" she asked, after a few moments silence.

"No," both said together.

"I tried one once," Chrissy added. "Not for me."

"Good for you," Nicole replied. "Bad habit. So hard to break. And, so difficult to get them nowadays," she said, taking another drag. "So, let me tell you why you are part of my special team," she began, returning to the table, a glass ashtray in her hand. "You both were identified as having exceptional, dare I say, near perfect language skills, which are in short supply these days. Chrissy, your German is impeccable. Waverly, your French is exquisite."

"My family spent time in France," Waverly explained. "Near Toulouse in the south west. I miss it deeply."

"I know that area well," Nicole remarked, taking a final drag on the cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray. "In fact, it is one of the reasons you were chosen to be part of my team."

Waverly looked confused. She had assumed her assignment to Station X was due only to her ability to speak French. Nicole was suggesting her local knowledge of the area around Toulouse would also be of use. She chose not to pursue this line of thought for the moment, trusting that Nicole would inform her as and when on what this meant.

"You can call me Nicole in the house, or Nikki which I prefer, but we need to remain professional at work. It's Flight Officer Haught or ma'am at BP. I will need to call you by your surnames. No familiarity outside this house, sadly. Do you have any preferences on what I call you here?" she enquired.

"I like to be called Chrissy."

"My family call me Waves."

"I like that," Nicole replied, getting up from the table to retrieve another cigarette. "Girls, breakfast is at 7am, sharp. Alan usually swings by at 7.45am, so we can get a lift with him. Please feel free to use the lounge. There's a radio and record player. I have a reasonable selection of music. Not too loud, mind. I also have books and magazines, if you fancy something to read." She moved towards the door, an unlit cigarette in her hand. Pausing before exiting, she turned to the girls. "I hope you enjoy your time here. I need to get on with some work in my study. Do knock if you need anything. See you in the morning." And with that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Waverly and Chrissy sat in silence for a few moments, Chrissy collecting the last crumbs around her plate of a piece of fruit cake she had had for dessert. "You do know who Alan is, don't you?" Chrissy offered, taking a sip of her tea.

"No," Waverly replied, wondering if it was the same man Nicole had kissed on the cheek at lunch.

"Only, Alan Turing, as in The Alan Turing, the maths whizz. The one who cracked the codes we were working on today. Well, well, well. Nikki and Alan sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g," Chrissy sang, a large grin on her face.

"Do you think they're together?" Waverly asked, thinking it was sort of exciting if they were, but also feeling slightly odd about it.

"We'll find out tomorrow morning," Chrissy winked, getting up from the table. "Race you to the lounge. I'm dying to hear some music."

The girls spent an hour in the lounge, chatting, listening to jazz. Chrissy danced by herself in the middle of the room, caught up in the sounds coming from the record player. Waverly sat in one of the comfortable armchairs flicking through a magazine. It was pleasant, homely, relaxing after the long first day they had just had. At 9pm, Chrissy said she needed to sleep and made her way out of the room. Waverly agreed, saying she would follow in a few moments, having become engrossed in a story in the magazine she had open on her lap. A door by the bottom of the stairs was partially open, as she passed. She could see Nicole sitting at a large desk, silhouetted by a desk lamp, her back to the door. She could hear her talking to someone on the telephone.

"I understand. I know this is critical for the mission. Yes, top priority. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight Alan."

Waverly heard the phone click as Nikki put down the receiver. She appeared to be scribbling something on a pad in front of her. She paused, rubbing her eyes, getting up from the desk and turning, spotting Waverly outside. She approached the door, opening it slightly as if to invite her in. She smiled, holding her gaze on Waverly, but clearly lost in thought. "Goodnight, I hope you sleep well," she said, closing the door.