book she intended as a clue for John. Hopefully he would remember her favourite story. Then, she wrapped all the gifts, including the family brooch for her sister, and, after writing the letter they would receive after she was gone, she walked to the post office and posted it. Her task completed, she felt the true weight of what she was doing. For her father, Vivi copied the poem ‘Remember’ by Christina Rossetti into the front of her poetry book, and turned down the corner on the page where she had been practising her code. She was afraid to leave him a note in case he read it and, thinking she was being reckless, told the authorities and somehow managed to stop them. She hoped that once she was gone he would see the book and understand she was working for SOE again.
Before her hospital shift started, Vivi called both John and Tom into the library.
She handed John his gift.
‘It’s not Christmas,’ he said. ‘Why are you giving us presents?’
‘Can’t a sister give her brothers gifts for no reason?’ she asked, ruffling his hair as he smiled at the book in his hands.
‘Golly, can I have this? It’s your favourite, you don’t want to keep it? You once said you’d never give it to me, ever!’ he said, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers down the delicate gold-leafed pages.
‘I changed my mind,’ Vivi answered, trying to keep her voice light. ‘Do you remember my favourite story, John?’
He half-nodded, as all his attention was focused on flicking through the pages. ‘The one about the swallows,’ he muttered, staring at a beautiful inked drawing of one of the characters.
Vivi fought her tears. This was harder than she would ever have thought.
She gulped them down before saying, ‘That’s right. Remember, when you read it, to think about me. And this is for you, Tom,’ she added, handing him his gift.
He opened it up. It was the picture she had painted that afternoon of sparrows on a branch. She knew he liked birdwatching, but she hoped that when this was over, if it didn’t end well, that SOE would inform her family of her death and tell them her code name, and then he would understand the significance of the picture.
‘You’re the best sister in the world,’ he said, flinging his arms around Vivi’s neck.
Vivi was surprised at his show of emotion. She tried not to allow the tears to fall, quickly swiping them from her eyes. Vivi didn’t want her brothers to know just how important this moment truly was. She hoped she would come home but nothing was guaranteed.
Tom turned the painting over and read the date. She knew it would be important to him one day, because after today this date would be sealed in his memory as maybe the last time he’d seen his sister. Because, if things went wrong and she was unable to get back, she knew there was a chance she could be perceived as a traitor.
After giving both her brothers a huge hug, which they both squirmed out of, she went to spend a little time with her father. He’d been in the office keeping out of the way of all the household activity since it’d become a hospital, and she often found him there reading or just staring out of the window. He was at his desk writing a letter when she walked in.
‘Oh, Vivienne. How’s your day going?’
She swallowed back the pain, keeping her voice even. ‘Well, thank you, Father.’ It was important that she kept anything from her tone. She wanted a moment to remember him and be close to him.
He looked up and indicated the letter on his desk. ‘I was writing a letter to someone I was in the Army with, encouraging him. It looks as though his son is to be sent out. This is such a hard time for us as parents. The Great War was hard enough, and now we’re seeing so many young boys being sent to the front once again. It is worrying. In some ways, I’m glad you’re a girl, Vivienne. You’ll never have to fight as we did.’
She swallowed again. If only he knew.
‘I am glad that all that business in France is over. But I worried about you when you were gone. You know my feelings on this. I don’t think we should involve women in war work.’
She sat down in front of his desk and took his hand.