The 9 Madalyn Morgan (best romantic novels in english .TXT) 📖

time to sit down before Freda was on her feet and at his side. ‘Would you like to dance, Henry? You don’t mind do you, Ena?’

‘Of course not,’ Ena said, smiling up at Henry. He didn’t look too happy about the prospect of dancing, but took a swig of his beer and allowed Freda to pull him onto the dance floor.

Ena enjoyed the music. She enjoyed watching the dancers too. Some were doing the modern Swing dance, others the Jive – both were new American dances. She watched Freda and Henry until they merged with the other dancers.

When they returned to the table, Henry sat down without waiting for Freda to sit first. Freda didn’t seem to notice. Strange, Ena thought. She had never known Henry to be bad mannered, not when she was younger and he had walked out with Bess, nor during the time she had been coming to Bletchley.

‘I’m going to the Ladies,’ Ena said. Pushing back her chair, she got up and left the table. After using the toilet, she washed and dried her hands. Before refreshing her lipstick, she deliberated about the way Henry had behaved towards her friend. She wondered if he and Freda had disagreed about something while they were dancing.

It was obvious that Freda had been drinking, she’d said as much when she’d arrived. Ena had experienced her friend when she’d had too much to drink on several occasions. Her mood could change from bright and chatty to dark and morose in a very short space of time.

On her way back to the table, Ena encountered a group of people standing on the periphery of the dance floor, deep in conversation. She stopped behind them. She was only half interested in what they were talking about, her main reason for being there was to observe Henry and Freda. Swaying to the music, unnoticed by the group, and unseen by Freda and Henry, she watched the way her two friends behaved to one another.

By the frown on Freda’s face, her mood had changed from friendly to angry. She looked at Henry. He picked up his glass of beer, took a long drink, and put the glass down heavily. Freda shot him a startled look. While she feigned interest in who was on the dance floor, Henry drummed his fingers on the table. Not to the beat of the music, Ena thought. Henry is as angry with Freda as she is with him – and it looks personal.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Returning to the table, smiling first at Freda and then at Henry, Ena said, ‘Dance?’ Henry jumped up straight away.

‘I’ll get some more drinks,’ Freda said, and got up too.

Ena pulled Henry into the middle of the dance floor.

At the end of the first dance, she led him to an unlit corner of the room. There were drinks on a table and a handbag on one of the two chairs. She needed to get straight to the point in case the occupants of the table returned.

‘What was that all about?’ The lines on Henry’s forehead deepened into a frown and he shrugged, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Come on, Henry. When Freda first joined us the two of you pretended not to know each other. But you did, didn’t you?’ Henry didn’t answer her. ‘I know you did. The way you were arguing just now was not the way two people who have never met before argue. It was much more personal, intimate almost.’ Henry looked at Ena, his eyes widening with surprise. ‘So you do know her. Where from? Here?’

‘Yes. Horace Dalton thought there was something about her that wasn’t quite kosher. He got me to take her out to tea, as a friend, and find out what I could about her.’

Ena knew all about having to find out about people. She had done the same to Ben under Commander Dalton’s instructions. ‘And?’

‘And we’ve had tea together twice when she’s been at Bletchley with Herbert Silcott.’

‘Freda didn’t say anything to me, nor did Mr Silcott.’

‘He wouldn’t have known. Both times were on Fridays when she was spending the weekend with her uncle in Northampton.’ Ena looked over to where the three of them had been sitting. Freda had returned with the drinks and was placing them around the table. ‘Perhaps she wants more from me than friendship.’

‘And you?’

‘No. I don’t want more. I told you, Horace Dalton asked me to find out about her.’

‘So?’

Henry looked at her as if he didn’t know what she meant. ‘Does the commander have any reason to be worried? Do I have reason to be worried? Could Freda be involved in sabotaging the work for Bletchley?’

‘No,’ Henry said with certainty. ‘I’m positive she isn’t involved in anything like that. I told you, I think it’s just that she has read too much into me taking her out to tea. Which is why she was annoyed when she arrived tonight and saw me with you.’

‘And why she asked me so bluntly about Ben. Now you’ve explained the situation, it makes sense. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be angry with you, I’m just tired of suspecting everyone I meet of being a spy or a traitor.’ Ena laughed. ‘Except for you, of course. You couldn’t be a spy and be as close as you are to Commander Dalton.’ Ena put her hands up to her face and gasped. ‘Perhaps it’s the commander who’s the spy. He could be sitting in his office now, plotting and planning the country’s demise, laughing at us as we run round in circles accusing and falling out with each other. What do you think?’

‘Horace Dalton a spymaster?’ Henry shuddered and grimaced. ‘That’s much too frightening to contemplate.’

Ena looked over Henry’s shoulder. ‘Come on. Freda looks miserable on her own, let’s join her.’

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