moment,’ Henderson said, as he turned away from the crowd and addressed his wife in a whisper. ‘We have a vital inspection coming up first thing tomorrow and I need to set our plans in motion.’
‘Bugger your plans,’ Joan roared, as she furiously wagged her finger. ‘You cancelled dinner with me before you went to London, you’ve now cancelled tea. I don’t even get to see you for bloody breakfast.’
Everyone in the hall shuffled their feet awkwardly and tried not to look.
‘We shall have a late dinner, tonight,’ Henderson said, as he touched his chest. ‘Hand on my heart.’
Joan processed this for a second before crushing the sponge cake between her fingers and smacking her husband around the head with the result. McAfferty rushed forwards. Two of the smallest kids laughed as jam and crumbs spilled down Henderson’s collar.
‘If we can’t speak in private, I might as well announce it to the whole world,’ Joan shouted.
‘Darling, don’t be childish,’ Henderson said firmly. ‘I’m busy, that’s all.’
‘Busy with some tart in London, no doubt,’ Joan shouted. ‘You never could keep your pecker in your pants for more than five minutes!’
McAfferty touched Joan’s shoulder and tried to sound warm. ‘Joan, you’re making a scene. Why don’t you calm down and go into the office with Charles. I’ll take control of the situation here.’
‘Get off me,’ Joan yelled, scowling at McAfferty. ‘How many times did he sleep with you while you were living in Paris … ? Actually, he goes for tall and skinny, not the dumpy ones like you.’
PT, Rosie and Marc exchanged nervous smiles as the muck continued to fly.
‘If you want a divorce, you can have it!’ Henderson shouted. ‘I’m not stopping you and you can take your father’s money and your bloody spiders with you.’
Joan roared with false laughter. ‘Hah! You think you’re getting rid of me that easily? If you remember that little drunken fumble we had when you first got home last September: well, Commander Henderson, I’m expecting a baby, last week of June.’
‘Oh!’ Henderson said. His mouth dropped open as cake crumbs continued to pelt the floor around him.
The Hendersons’ first child had died at the age of eighteen months, plunging Joan into a depression from which she’d never fully recovered. Henderson wanted another child, but his wife’s mental state would complicate the pregnancy and working in espionage didn’t lend itself to being a hands-on father.
After waiting a few seconds for the initial shock to wear off, Henderson put out his arms and closed on his wife. This was a gamble. He had no idea if he’d get a hug or a slap, but tears sprang into Joan’s eyes as Henderson’s arms locked gently around her back. She kissed his cheek and the jam and crumbs stuck to her lips.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Henderson, Takada and the other staff gave their young trainees cleaning duty as punishment for minor sins, such as not cleaning a weapon properly or arriving late to a training session. The kids did it slowly, miserably and made as poor a job as they could reasonably expect to get away with.
But this Thursday was different. Everything depended upon the review, and the threat brought everyone out in a cleaning frenzy, from Superintendent McAfferty down to new arrivals Troy and Mason.
Wood floors were polished, windows washed inside and out with vinegar water and fresh whitewash applied to the slightly grubby walls in the downstairs hallway. Troy taught the military-style bed-making skills he’d learned at Hay Approved School to all the other kids. The bigger lads lifted up furniture, enabling the little ones to clamber underneath and dust.
McAfferty, Rosie and an elderly cook named Pippa made the evening meal, while simultaneously working through a mound of laundry, scrubbing it in the sinks and then running each piece through a mangle to help it dry. It was hard work that shrivelled Rosie’s fingertips.
When everything shone to McAfferty’s satisfaction, the kids ate dinner before being ordered into the showers. It was gone seven o’clock when the damp-haired boys and girls returned to their rooms with towels around waists.
‘This looks very smart,’ Henderson said, as he stood in the doorway of Group A’s sleeping quarters wearing a paint-spattered workman’s overall. The privacy curtains had been taken down and personal items stripped off the walls. The beds were neatly made and evenly spaced.
‘You’ve all worked really hard,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Nobody has had to shout or give orders. None of the staff has had to tell you to buck your ideas