Breaking Enigma || The Imitation Game

◈ FIVE- Bletchley Park ◈

It was finally the thirtieth of September- the day I had been waiting for. After a very long discussion of the positives and negatives of the job, my parents decided that it would be a good idea to let me go. Anyway, I'm very much old enough to make choices by myself. I would give anything to not have Mother and Father on my case all the time, making decisions for me and telling me where the go and what to do.

Maybe this was the start of my new life and complete independence. I couldn't wait to get started.

It was a cool, yet bright morning. But, unfortunately, not sunny. There were a few white clouds dotted in the pale-blue sky, while a slight breeze whipping up to hopefully push the clouds along, so the sun could take their place. Crunchy and shrivelled dark brown, red, orange and fading green leaves had fallen from their home in the trees and were now in a new one on the ground. The leaves were almost dead and were beginning their new life cycle- Autumn was upon us.

Father had taken my siblings to school and had come back home, just in time to say farewell. With him, he brought the daily newspaper and a little bag of barley sugars as a 'good luck' present. Jack and Louisa would be jealous; they adore barley sugars and with the rationing, it's difficult to buy them on a weekly basis. Especially when there were more important things to be bought.

I came down the stairs with a small-sized, brown leather suitcase containing bits and bobs such as clothes and books. Books were important.

"Don't forget your coat," Mother fretted, handing me my black jacket, which I donned over my shoulders.

"Thank you," I say, stuffing the bag of sweets into my pocket and hugging Mother. I made sure that my invitation letter was also in my pocket, so I could get it easily and show it to these 'gatekeepers' that were mentioned. This place sounded like a fort with tight security, never-mind a radio factory.

"You try and enjoy your new job, Kester," she pats my back comfortingly and reluctantly pulls away from our embrace.

"I'm sure I will," I exclaim confidently. "I hope to visit very soon."

"That would be fantastic," Father says. "Be sure to tell us all about it."

"Of course," I opened the front door and a gust of cold air hit my face. I step out of the house and turn to see Father's arm wrapped around Mother in reassurance. The only occasion they had to experience me leaving for a long period of time, was when I attended university. I visited home as often as possible, but didn't get much chance as I, like many other students, were studying extremely hard.

"Goodbye," I wave with my free hand.

"Goodbye, dear," Mother waved back and Father did so too.

Smiling slightly, I turned and began to walk down the garden path, walking through the open gate and closing it behind me. I have one last wave to my parents and took off down the street.

I wished that the sun was blazing, high in the cloudless blue yonder and there was a warm breeze blowing the lush, green leaves, making them rustle like nature's music.

But summer never truly lasts. There has to be a time of death, cold and darkness to be a time of new life, happiness and warmth. And this was the beginning of that vicious circle.

I never looked back to Mother and Father; I simply focused on the time ahead of me, instead. As well as scoffing a few barely sugars along the way.

I spoke to Mother's friend, Mary Anderson on the way. She was doing her shopping in the village as her husband seemed to be very bored as he was dragged along.

"Off on your travels, young Kester?" She joked.

"Yes, actually. I'm on my way to a new job."

I then explained to her about the invitation and Mary was rather puzzled and slightly concerned.

"I'm not sure you should be going to this," she said. "This Denniston guy could be anyone pretending to be the head of the Navy. It could be a note to lure you in, Kester, like a trap for kidnapping."

I couldn't help but laugh at her. "Don't be so dramatic, Mrs Anderson. I don't think it's that extreme. Anyway, there's no harm in exploration and adventure."

And with that, I said my goodbyes and continued on through the streets until I passed the train station. By this time, I was becoming increasingly nervous and my sudden boost of courage had died off. What if Mary was right? What if I was being led into a trap that could cause my imminent doom?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

I crossed the main road, which was almost dead and not a car or even a person to be seen, and down a short lane, which had a tree canopy hanging over my head. As I reached the end of the pathway, I noticed the set of gates that must be the security for the factory; they were guarded by two men, one of whom had a gun. Now, that was extreme. Perhaps Mary was right after-all.

"Papers please," the unarmed man asked. I presumed he meant the invite. Handing it to him, I watched anxiously as he skimmed over what was written and then gave a nod as confirmation to open the gate.

"Thank you," I reply quickly as the guard handed my letter back to me and then slipping it back into my pocket.

The other man swung open one of the gates and I made my way through, hearing it close moments later.

I was now feeling more perplexed rather than scared. It was all very strange and quite unpredictable. A new environment, naturally, is daunting, but this one was particularly puzzling.

The end of the path was near and then the trees gave way to reveal a large mansion. And a rather beautiful one, at that. There were many people, both men and women, who were wandering around carrying crates, briefcases, files and smiles on their faces. The chatted away as they seemed to be working.

There was a small bus in the clearing in front of the mansion, unloading women in uniforms with suitcases in their hands. Men were in army suits and had rifles slung over their soldiers.

"This definitely isn't a factory," I murmured to myself.

"It most certainly isn't," came a deep, serious voice.

I quickly spun around to see a older man, sporting a rather important looking demeanour and a midnight-blue suit, clad with gold here and there and medals sitting proudly on his chest. His dark blue eyes were stern, with a hint of a welcome gaze. His hair was a silvery-grey colour, as was his beard.

"You must be Kester Hughes," the man said.

"Yes," I nod, feeling intimidated by his presence.

"Wonderful. I'm so glad you could make it," he extended his hand, which I took in my own. He certainly had a very firm grip. "I'm Commander Denniston- the one who sent you the letter earlier this month."

"Oh, yes... It's a pleasure sir, but if this isn't a radio factory, then what is it?"

"Follow me and I shall explain," Denniston turned and gestured for me to follow him inside the mansion.

"Welcome, Mr Hughes, to Bletchley Park..."