The Sisters of St. Croix by Diney Costeloe Page A

Anson-Gravetty?”
    Adelaide leaped to her feet and saluted. “Yes, sir. Good morning, sir.”
    “My name is Jenner. Please come this way.” He led the way back through the door from which he had emerged and closed it carefully behind him.
    The room was large and bare, furnished only with a big oak desk and some upright chairs. A second, panelled door opened into a further room, but it was closed.
    Captain Jenner walked round behind the desk and waved at one of the upright chairs in front of it. “Please take a seat,” he said and settled himself in his own chair.
    Adelaide did so, perching awkwardly on the edge of the seat, waiting.
    “I understand that you speak fluent French,” said the captain, addressing her in that language.
    Adelaide replied to the question in kind. “Yes, sir. My grandmother is French and she has always spoken to me in French. I spent a good deal of time with her as a child, so I speak it pretty fluently.”
    “I believe you also read French at university.”
    “Yes, sir.” Remembering Andrew’s comments about Molière, she did not enlarge on this.
    For the next hour, Captain Jenner questioned her about her family, her friends, where she had been to school. He seemed to know a great deal about her already as he tossed in queries about her natural father, Freddie Hurst, as well as her adoptive father. He asked her why she had joined up instead of getting a civilian job. Why she had joined the ranks and not put in for officer training.
    Adelaide answered him as best she could, trying to work out what he was getting at, what he wanted to know and why he wanted to know it; and the whole conversation was carried on in French. Captain Jenner’s French was fluent and idiomatic, his vocabulary wide, so that on occasion he had Adelaide searching for a word that escaped her. On the whole, however, though she was surprised by the range and depth of questioning, she answered his questions as truthfully as she could, not trying to hide anything from him, though she suspected that somehow he knew all the answers already.
    At last he said, “Thank you for coming to see me, Miss Anson-Gravetty. It could be that we need to send you for some special training. I assume you’d be happy about that?”
    He asked this as a question, but Adelaide knew it was not, not really. She was expected to agree, and so she did.
    “You should return to your present job for the time being,” Captain Jenner said, standing up to indicate that the interview was over, “and report as directed when the time comes. I need hardly tell you that you should not discuss this with anyone. Careless talk costs lives.”
    This time the slogan did not make Adelaide laugh as she had when Andrew had trotted it out, this time she knew it was in deadly earnest.
    “No, sir. I won’t mention it. May I ask, sir, exactly what this training will be for?”
    Captain Jenner allowed himself a faint smile. “You may ask, Aircraftswoman, but until things have been decided you won’t get an answer. Good morning.”
    “Good morning, sir.” Adelaide saluted him smartly and turning on her heel left the room.
    When she had gone, the door in the corner opened and another man, in the uniform of a major, came in. He looked across at Captain Jenner. “Well, Jenner, what did you think of her? Will she do?” He took a seat in the chair that Adelaide had vacated, and Jenner returned to his place behind the desk.
    “Her French is probably good enough,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “with a little brushing up. Accent unexceptional. Plenty of commonsense by the sound of her. Certainly officer material, though she joined up in the ranks.”
    “Yes, interesting explanation for that,” remarked the other man. “Did you believe it?”
    “What, that she wanted to learn a trade and know how it feels to be an ordinary aircraftswoman before taking on the responsibility of telling other girls what to do?” Jenner drew on his cigarette, considering.