Breaking Enigma || The Imitation Game

◈ TWO- War is Declared ◈

Mother looked horrified, clasping her hands over her mouth in shock. The expression in her eyes showed that she was devastated. Father, meanwhile seemed quite calm. Except his gaze was focused on a particular spot and he let out a sigh of what could be described as anger.

I remember him telling me stories of The Great War when I was only about seven. I don't remember that much, but the way he told his stories with such detail was almost frighteningly realistic. I recollect quivering when Father once told me of a story about his brother when he was in the trenches- grenades, bullets, dead soldiers, blood, freezing temperatures, diseased rats and louses, mud, malnutrition; I don't even want to know or picture what really goes on in conditions like that. It must have been utter torture.

Jack and Louisa exchanged glances of mixed emotions, but I mainly saw fear in their eyes and in their pale faces. Louisa lowered her head and then appeared to be thinking. Jack looked to Mother, who shot him a reassuring glance.

I, too, was scared. Maybe a bit more than scared. Terrified, even. I didn't want to experience those stories for real. I didn't want to hold a gun in my hands or shoot a man. I didn't want to be stuck down a hole with nothing to eat, while covered in mud and getting bitten by rats. Neither did I want to see my only few close friends perish, gasping for air in a gas attack or getting shot and bleeding to death. Most importantly, my family can be in danger at any point and the pure thought of that was extremely upsetting.

The five of us sat in silence as the wireless babbled on to itself. The Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, had just made a speech on the official declaration that Britain was now at war with Germany...

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The whole village went into a frantic panic as soon as war was declared and I suspect the whole country had too. The week after the declaration, small families in Bletchley were preparing their homes for evacuee children that would be coming from the big cities, such as London and Manchester, to live in the countryside with them.

Mother kept rambling on about how glad she was that she didn't sign up to look after another child. 'Jack and Louisa are more trouble than you think' she would tell my Father. 'Let alone having another child running about. And Kester is old enough to be living by himself. I can't keep on looking after him. He has to make his own way in the world.'

As much as her words pained me, Mother was right; I'm twenty-seven and I still live with my parents. My few friends have their own houses or flat and live either by themselves or have girlfriends or wives. I'm quite the disappointment. Then again, I always have been. But I haven't been into all the 'normal' things that men my age are into, like girls, motorcycles and sports. My interests have been along the lines of Mathematics, Science, History and looking after my family. Isn't this world so difficult to live in? Besides, my parents needn't worry about me anymore. I'd finally received something that would give me work- an invitation. And a rather unexpected one, at that.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

For the entire morning and early afternoon of Thursday, I lay on the lush, green grass of the garden, while reading a book on the Ancient Egyptians. The miniature maple tree in the bottom left corner of the garden rustled quietly with the soft, yet cool breeze. The sun contradicted the wind and gave off a lovely, warm heat. It was ever so relaxing and I was tempted to fall asleep, but I resisted and continued to read.

Mother came outside around midday to do some gardening. She planted some new, bright pink chrysanthemums and one or two small hydrangeas, then moved on to digging up some weeds.

"Do you need any help?" I asked her, glancing up from my book.

"No, no," Mother insisted. "I'm fine... I need to go out later, so would you mind keeping an eye on Jack and Louisa since your father is at work?"

"Not at all," I smiled.

"Thank you, Kester," she smiled back. "You're a wonderful young man, you know that?"

"I didn't, but thanks for pointing that out," I joke. "I only try my best, Mum."

"I know and you're very good at what you do," she said as she wrestled a dandelion plant that was rather large for its normal size and that appeared be a struggle to pull from the soil. In the end, Mother gave up with a huff and decided she had done enough gardening for one day. Then, she went inside the house and left me by myself in the peaceful environment.

After three o'clock, Mother beckoned me to come back inside as she was preparing to go out. I presumed she was going shopping.

I was surprised that I'd been outside for so long that day. I was proud to have read a third of the book, though. Like I've always said: if a book intrigues you, it's worth reading.

Jack and Louisa were in their room for most of the evening when Mother was out. They were doing homework and were quietly. Suspiciously quiet, even for them. I did check up on them, looking at how far they had progressed. Jack was almost done with his French homework and Louisa was still struggling with a Maths problem, as a result, I went and helped her like any good brother would do.

Later that evening, when my parents had come home, the whole family sat in the living room, listening to the wireless. Mostly doom and gloom came up, but there was a few nice, jaunty songs that were played; it lightened the mood.

Father was reading the daily newspaper, Mother was playing 'snakes and ladders' with Jack and Louisa. They laughed when Jack repeatedly landed on a space where there was a snake.

"That's not fair!" He exclaimed.

"No," interjected Louisa. "That's just bad luck."

Meanwhile, I was still reading my book on the Egyptians as I sat cosily on the sofa in my pyjamas.

"Kester," Father said, looking up from his newspaper and taking my attention away from a paragraph on the Sphinx. "There's a letter for you that came in the post. It's on the kitchen table if you want to open it."

"Oh," I was quite shocked that there was mail for me. I never got letters, except from my Grandma Mary who had migrated to America after the Great War. "Does anyone want anything from the kitchen while I'm there?"

"No thank you, dear," Mother answered.

I then got up and strolled into the kitchen where I saw an envelope laying on the table. I wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous; I simply didn't know what was inside. But I was eager to find out.

Tearing open the seal, I pulled out a sheet of neatly folded paper and unfolded it. It was a letter, written in tidy and orderly, black inked letters. Could this be the letter that decides my future?