you want.’ Pushing open the door, he stomped inside and then, turning to Julia, signalled to her to follow him. Clutching her typewriter to her chest, she hurried into the room, hanging back in the corner, awkwardly, while they finished their conversation.
‘I just think that you’ll live to regret it,’ said Lord Halifax, the foreign secretary, as he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Julia was then left in the room, just her and Churchill. She tried not to think about what an unusual situation this was and tried not to be in awe of her prime minister.
‘Sit down, girl, sit down,’ he snapped in his abrupt, no-nonsense way.
Julia quickly moved to the desk and placed her typewriter on it as he fished around his office for what he was looking for, which turned out to be a bottle of Scotch. Opening it, he poured himself a generous glass, and Julia fought back the temptation to check her watch. It couldn’t be more than half past nine, maybe ten o’clock at the latest. Oblivious to her surprise, he lit one of his usual cigars, sat back in his chair, and sighed deeply. He seemed to be taking time to collect himself in his own world before, all of a sudden, he remembered she was there and came to life.
‘I need you to type the speech for a broadcast to the nation,’ he stated solemnly.
Then, Julia sensed a difference in him as he contemplated the words for his speech. He seemed more reflective than the times that she’d passed him in the office; he’d always been an eager, forthright kind of a person, a man who she felt was in control. But there was a difference in his countenance now and a deep concern, she could tell. Even though he’d clearly disagreed with Lord Halifax, she could see he was considering many things. He took another a deep long drag of his cigar and stared at a propaganda poster on the wall, reminding them all to be vigilant and not to trust anyone. Julie held her breath as the blue smoke swirled around her face, blurring her typewriter in front of her.
‘Ready?’ he muttered in a low tone.
Julia nodded and, with her trembling fingers, removed the cover from her typewriter. Hastily rolling in a sheet of paper, along with the carbon and another page, she prepared to type.
But instead of beginning his speech, he stopped, turned, and looked directly at her. ‘What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before, have I?’ he asked, his deep, guttural voice measured and thoughtful.
‘Julia Sullivan,’ she said in a tight, dry voice, swallowing down the anxiety caught in her throat as she tried not to cough because of the smoke filling the room. She was knocked off-guard with his personable approach. She’d expected him to start speaking for her to transcribe straight away.
‘Julia,’ he repeated in a low grumble, rolling it around in his mouth as though testing it to see if it was acceptable. ‘Are you well?’ he asked. ‘After the last two nights, I mean. Is your family all right? Everyone is safe?’
‘My husband is away serving, and my children are in the Cotswolds.’
He nodded, considering her words. ‘Awful sight,’ he said as he spun his chair around, almost as if he was talking to himself as he looked up at the wall to a place a window may have been if they hadn’t been underground. He took another sip of his Scotch. Then to clarify his train of thought, he muttered, ‘The East End yesterday, terrible mess.’
Julia nodded to the back of his head.
He swivelled back around then morphed into the Churchill she knew. ‘But we have to keep going, don’t we? It’s the right thing to do.’
Julia nodded absently, her fingers hovering over the keys. Was she supposed to be typing? She wasn’t sure if their conversation had finished or whether he’d started transcribing. She then wondered if he regretted his decision to retaliate for the Croydon raid with the bombing of Berlin. Julia wanted to tell him that she thought he’d done the right thing. The Germans were going to come anyway. But she didn’t feel it was her place to be so forthright with him, even though she still felt he needed a little reassurance.
‘They won’t get to us, sir. They won’t destroy us or crush us. We’ll all just work harder.’
He turned to meet her defiant gaze, and his forehead relaxed, the