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

the time they reached the table, Freda was sitting with her head in her hands.

Pretending to be out of breath from dancing, Ena picked up her gin and tonic. ‘Thank you, Freda,’ she said, taking a drink.

Freda lifted her head and nodded. ‘Sorry, for being a misery.’

‘Nothing to be sorry for.’ Ena looked at her watch. She wished now that she hadn’t lied to her friend. She should have told her about the dance, and that she was staying at the Station Hotel, as soon as Commander Dalton told her he’d booked the room. Ena sighed. Maybe if Henry had told her yesterday what he just said, she would have told her.

Ena wasn’t a good liar, or good at getting out of situations by lying. Which was what she had to do now. ‘It’s time I left, or I’ll miss my train.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Freda said. ‘Well, as far as Northampton.’

‘No! Honestly, Freda, there’s no need. Besides, the dance doesn’t end for ages, if we both leave poor Henry will be all on his own. No, you stay here and keep him company.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’ Ena turned to Henry. ‘You don’t want to leave yet, do you, Henry?’

Henry looked at Ena and shook his head very slowly. She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t saying he didn’t want to leave, but that he couldn’t believe Ena’s ploy to get away without Freda. He stood up as Ena stood. ‘I’m going to get my coat and case, won’t be a tick.’

Wearing her coat, and carrying her small case, Ena returned to the table and picked up her handbag. ‘I’m off,’ she said, kissing Freda on the cheek. ‘Have a nice weekend with your uncle. See you at work on Monday.’ She walked round the table, leant forward, and kissed the air next to Henry’s cheek. He pushed back his chair to get up. ‘Stay where you are!’ Ena ordered. ‘Thank you for accompanying me tonight, even if I did have to twist your arm up your back to get you to do it.’ Henry began to protest, but Ena put up her hand and turned to Freda. ‘Look after him, won’t you. Make sure he doesn’t spill beer down his suit. It goes back on Monday.’

Turning her back on Henry, Ena cut across the room to the door, yanked it open and left.

It was unseasonably cold outside. Ena stopped and buttoned her coat before setting off for the hotel. As she walked along the side of the building, she heard a girl call out. It made her jump and she stopped dead.

A second later, Ena heard a man’s voice. It was deep and husky. She couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was it made the girl giggle – so Ena resumed her journey.

In the distance, she saw the hooded headlights of a motorcar. It turned into the car park. Its lights extinguished, she heard someone, presumably the driver, open and shut the door. It was too dark to see where he was heading, the faint sound of his footfall disappeared in seconds.

As she neared the car park, Ena thought she heard other footsteps. She stopped and looked round. There was no one behind her, or to her left or right. She tutted loudly. With security guards on the gates around the clock, no one could get in or out of the Park without identification, a pass and a damn good reason to be there, which no stranger to the Park would have at this time of night.

She took a calming breath, told herself that Bletchley Park was the safest of places, and carried on walking. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards when she heard the footsteps again. She stopped, and they stopped. Her nerves tightened at the top of her stomach and she could feel her heart pounding.

Approaching the entrance to the car park, she quickened her step. She was about equal distance from the mansion to the main gate when she heard the footsteps behind her speed up. She stayed close to the cars and when the footsteps grew louder, nearer, she sidestepped to her left and ducked down behind the first vehicle in a row of seven or eight.

She put her hand on the bonnet to steady herself. It was warm. It was the car she had seen parking a few minutes earlier. She held her breath and hoped the owner would return soon and help her. Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared whoever was following her would hear it.

Crouching, with one hand on the car’s mudguard and the other on the bumper, Ena leaned to the left. Poking her head round the side of the car, she froze. The moon was on the wane, giving only a little light, but she saw clearly enough the silhouette of a man in an overcoat and trilby hat. She held her breath as she watched him walk towards her. If she didn’t move he would be on top of her in seconds.

She slid her suitcase and handbag under the car and, on all fours, crawled as quickly and quietly as she was able along the ground until she was midway between the first and last car. She stopped and listened. The footsteps began again, slower, more of a shuffle, but nearer. She moved again, as she had the first time, until she arrived at the end of the row.

There was a footpath on her right. It ran along the front of several huts – and it was a mere six feet away. If she could only get to it, she could hide behind one of the low walls. She heard what sounded like someone exhale. She strained her ears, trying to work out where her stalker was. Not daring to look round the car, she bent down to look under