My Mother, the Spy

I could not decide the category for this story, it is a WW2 spy drama.

I posted this a few months ago and was asked to expand on it.

it is not erotic fiction, but it is about a loving wife.

Be wary, it is long, so if you like a good story, read on

If you only want sex, this is not for you.

This is a slow story, be warned.

The Spy, The Lover and the Husband. Edit.

My wonderful father died towards the end of the covid lockdowns in London. He was hit with a major stroke and became bedbound. He lost his power of speech and sight; his last seventeen weeks were the worst seventeen weeks of my life. I wished we had spent more time with him before it happened but as most people did, they stayed away to prevent the spread.

My mum and dad had us late in life and I was their first child in 1963, so I was still young enough to help where I could. Mum was in her forties when she had us all, so we never really knew our parents as young. To us they were always old.

I had tried to organize the very best care possible for him and moved into his house to help out as best I could through his last days. I arranged home help nurses every 6 hours to help change and wash him because he wouldn't have liked me doing it, he was a proud man.

My mum had died 15 years previous, so he had lived alone from the age of 84 to 99. He said just before the stroke he wished he had gone with her; it broke my heart. He never really recovered from her passing.

Covid meant he spent the last few months of his life alone. He almost made it to 100 and he had had a wonderful life, he made so many friends throughout his long life but had outlived them all.

He was a young dashing R.A.F. pilot when he met my mum, they had gone through so much together and when she passed it almost killed him. Dad had 4 children and 17 grandkids who adored him, and he put on that brave face for us, he was a kind man but grew very old very fast after mum had died.

I had the sad job of going through all of the old boxes in the attic to sort out his affairs, my brother and two sisters helped but they were hopeless, Mary just cried constantly, and Billy had no idea. My youngest sibling Alice (named after our mum) was my best friend. She was 13 years younger than me but for some reason out of all the siblings, we got on the best.

The old photos made us reminisce of better times when we were kids, old holidays and Christmas. It took days to go through them all and I took boxes and boxes home with me because I couldn't stand to be in their empty house without them.

Over the next few weeks while sorting out the funeral and death certificates, I came across a beautiful locked antique ornamental box about 12 x 8 inches. I had never seen it before, and I searched and searched but it had no key. It felt wrong to break it open, but I had no choice and did it as carefully as I could.

Inside I found loads of old photo's a couple of writing books, maps, a compass and what looked like old codes scribbled on notepads. There was also an envelope with a key labelled 'safe' with numbers on it, dad never had a safe so that was puzzling?

There were a few photos of my mum when she was about 20, she was a stunning young woman. She was standing with man who looked like a farmer, and he had his arm around her. She was lovingly looking up into his eyes. It wasn't my dad so I wondered who it could be.

One of the old writing books looked like a diary, it was a dusty old leather-bound book. It smelled musky, like old furniture.

It was all written in my mums handwriting, the other was full of names and numbers. Some of them were labelled as living in Europe. Belgium and Holland. Mum and dad didn't know anyone there as far as I knew so that was another puzzle.

I put the kettle on and sat reading mum's diary, it felt like I was invading her privacy at first, but it was wonderful. I had a window into her past that she had never talked of. I was in floods of tears as I read it and it dated right back to 1939.

It was like reading pages from another world. She was nearly 18 and still just a young girl in a dangerous time period. She had the writing skills of a woman of far more advanced years. Some of this stuff was so moving that I was in tears more often than not.

The page I was reading was dated January 17th, 1939 and detailed her trip into London for an interview of her first real job.

My mum had painted a picture of old London and the exciting steam train ride in such exquisite words that I could almost imagine being there with her.

She had got off the train at Waterloo Station and walked over the bridge to Whitehall. Her job was to be in admin with the war office, (she had never spoken of any of this to me).

I had no idea she worked there. I would have loved to have heard her talk of these old stories of her early life, why had she kept this a secret?

She got the job and started the next day. She was to be a secretary to an advisor of an Admiral Hennessey. The pay was Two pounds and ten shillings per week which was a hell of lot in those days for that type of work.

The pages were all of dull days until 3rd April 1939 when an entry talked of making tea for a mystery man and the Admiral. Mum wrote of the man making her feel weak at the knees when he had smiled at her, he was so dashing.

Admiral Hennessey had taken quite a shine to her over those months working in the office, he even knew her name which was more than most there.

"Alice, when we are done here will you drop whatever you are on and come back here, please."

"Yes Sir."

She wrote, when she knocked at his office door she was invited in, and introduced to a man she was later to know as Mr. Winston Churchill the future P.M.

This was such a revelation to me, it was intriguing, mum and dad had never spoken of any of this! Here I am reading that my mum had met CHURCHILL!!

I couldn't turn the pages quick enough, the next dozen pages had been ripped out

"Fuck!"

The next readable page was dated August 5th, 1939, a few months were missing. I searched through the box looking for them, I was distraught trying to find them. I came across a dainty gold chain and a wedding ring, with another key attached to it hidden at the bottom of the box in a false compartment.

This was getting curiouser and curiouser, I took a sip of my tea and found my it had gone cold, I glanced at the living room clock. Time had flown, I had been sitting there for three hours.

Ben came in from work at 6pm and I could not wait to tell him of my discoveries. We got mum's box out again, I spread it all on the kitchen table and we went through it together.

Ben turned the pages through the code book and looked up saying,

"Sally, this looks like weird shit! Why would your mum have these codes?"

"Ben look at this!"

It was a wedding certificate from 1941 tucked inside the other handbook to a man named Mr. Harry Taylor, to a Miss. Alice Jones.

Jones was her maiden name; it was my mum?

"Ben, what the fuck is all this about?"

"I think we need to take your mum and dads house apart love. I mean floorboards, everything. It looks like your mum had a secret life none of us knew about, probably including your dad!"

"Mum was married again?"

"It looks like it yes."

"She couldn't have been, I'd have known....wouldn't I?.....what do we tell the others?"

"Nothing yet Sal, let's look into it all first."

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I was in dads house the very next day going through it with a fine-tooth comb. I was looking at anywhere that could hide anything, there was nothing plus where was this safe?

Every creaky floorboard had me taking it up and looking in the dusty cavities, I found nothing.

I had my bigger and much more powerful torch and clambered through the attic again, I found another two filthy boxes full of paperwork hidden under a pile of insulation.

Back home I dusted it all off and started my detective work, one was full of documents from a solicitor in Deptford south London. The other had more photos and documents, plus six really old passports, like 'really' old. Four had pictures of my mother under different names, one was of this man Harry and the last one was my dad's, they were all ancient.

There were also more pictures of this Harry fella.

"What the fuck was going on, what was she up to?"

I rang my husband at work to please come home, he couldn't but said I should try the solicitors phone number.

"Hello, Andersons Solicitors can I help you?"

"Oh hi, I wondered if I could talk to someone about Mrs. Alice Johnstone's affairs. Unfortunately, she is dead, but I am her daughter and I have found loads of documents sent from your office."

"I am sorry to hear that, do you have a reference number there please? it should be top right of the page."

"Yes, this one is AJ16007345, is that any good?"

"Yes, give me a second and I'll get it up."

There was a long silence.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Yes," the lady answered.

"To whom am I talking too, did you say you are the daughter? Your name please."

"I am Sally, Sally Harriet Jackson."

"May I call you Sally?... yes, I have a file here under her name, but it is security locked. Can I look into this and have someone ring you back please?"

The phone went dead before I could answer, I dialed Ben back again.

"Ben, Ben, come home. Something is very wrong here!"

Two hours later as I was going through what had happened with him the phone rang,

"Mrs. Sally Jackson?"

"Yes."

"Hello, I am Anthony Ashford. I work for the M.O.D. Do you have five minutes to chat?"

"What is this about?"

"It's about Alice Johnstone, your mother."

I put the phone on speaker so Ben could hear too, Mr. Ashford told us about how my mum had worked for them years ago, during and after the war and that we should come in to have a chat to learn more.

I sat stunned for ages, my mum had lied to me all my life. I really never knew her at all. Did my dad know she had worked for the military?

The week dragged by so slowly until our appointment with Mr. Ashford in London. I still hadn't told my brother or sisters and the secret was killing me. I couldn't until I knew all the facts and what was what.

Saturday morning and we were on our way down Whitehall walking towards the monument. We found the grand building we were looking for; it was right next to the cenotaph.

The young lady at the desk of the foyer we had entered, told us to sit and we would be seen soon. Another young lady came and introduced herself as Beth, she asked us if we wouldn't mind following her.

She led us through a large double doorway into a grand hall with dozens of old oak doors off of it.

"Please sit here and Mr. Ashford will be with you shortly, would you like tea, coffee?"

She walked off through one of the endless doorways.

A distinguished looking man in a pinstripe suit came out of a different door pushing a trolley with a few cups, a teapot and sandwiches came by 10 minutes later.

Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, would you follow me please?"

He led us to another room and offered us two chairs to sit in and put the tea tray on the desk.

"Hello, I am Anthony Ashford. Pleased to meet you."

After the introductions he reached into a draw of his desk and slid over two forms at us.

"These need to be signed for before we can continue, I am afraid."

"What!"

"You must sign these," he pointed to the dotted line on the forms.

"Before I am allowed to proceed you must sign, they are OSA forms. Official Secrets Act."

"Sorry, what are you going on about, we are here about my mum?"

"Yes, I know."

He again slid them towards us, "Sign please, if you want answers. Believe me, you will be glad you did."

Ben and I looked at each other quizzically, "Sign it, Sally." He said.

I picked up the pen and signed handing it to Ben, we slid them back to him and he looked them over tucking them into a folder.

"Right, let's get to it shall we."

He took another folder from his desk marked with a red top secret at the top. It was like we had somehow strolled onto a movie set, what on earth was going on here.

He looked it over and said,

"Alice Springfield, I take it you know nothing of this?"

"Springfield? Who is Alice Springfield? My mum was Alice Johnstone."

He looked across his desk to us and spoke softly,

"Mrs. Jackson, there is a lot you do not know about your mother, she was...is, a war hero."

He took out another object from his desk it was a tray of paperwork and ribbons, under the ribbons were ten shiny medals.

"These are yours; your mother was awarded these for services to the crown."

I sat motionless, shocked and unable to speak until muttering,

"There must be some mistake?"

"No mistake I assure you, your mother Alice Springfield, later, Johnstone among other aliases, is held in the highest of regards here. There is much you do not know. I know this is a shock, please drink your tea, shall I be mother, milk, sugar?"

***********************************************

Two hours later we came out of there finding my mum was a real war hero. Mr. Ashford arranged another meeting for later in the week, he would have all the relevant files to show us by then.

We were shell shocked; she had kept this all a secret to her grave.

Mum had been a spy in WW2 and had to marry a Belgium national to take his name. She had had a whole other secret life.

We had been given an address of a private bank in Lambeth to visit on Monday with our Vault key and code that were in the box at home.

Saturday night at home was strange, you would have thought we wouldn't be able to shut up about our day, but we both sat quiet most of the evening.

Sunday was our day of questions, how would we tell my siblings, the answer was I couldn't, not yet at least. The OSA form meant it stayed with me to the grave like my mum had done. Did my dad know of any of this?

It was hell keeping this to ourselves over the weekend.

We decided that once we had been to the bank and assessed the situation, we would make the choice to tell or not.

Monday morning, we made our way to Waterloo station, it hit me that this was the exact same journey my mum had made all those years ago. It felt somehow that she was here with us as we made our way to Lambeth Bridge and the bank.

The private bank was near Lambeth Palace. We were shown to the vaults and took our numbered box from the huge wall of letterbox doors. We were ushered to a side room to open it in private, I was hesitant on opening it afraid of what I might find inside. Ben took control and the key from me; he entered the code and turned the lock.

Inside were three bank accounts and notes of all denominations and countries, thousands and thousands of pounds worth. Some birth certificates and yet more photos and maps. Another diary but much bigger this time plus four more notebooks.

We placed all the contents in our bags and took them home to rummage through them in the comfort of our home.

Still in great disbelief of my mum's double live we started to go through it all. The diary was far more detailed than the one I had found, and it was shocking to read. My mother had been recruited three months into her time at the Whitehall offices. Her handler was simply known as John and was an acquaintance of the Admiral.

She was taken to a small airfield in Kent where she underwent very intensive training with three others, one man and two women. There were comings and goings of various dignitaries and were introduced to their pilot to take them to France. The pilot was later to become my father. All this was so overwhelming I was in floods of tears as I read it, Ben held me as we read it together.

Halfway through the diary there was a small envelope with a handwritten letter addressed, (To my children.)

Ben made two strong brandy's and we sat side by side at the table to read it.

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"To my four wonderful children, if you are reading this, I assume I am no longer around. Please know you are the best things that ever happened to me, I loved you all with every fiber of my being and lived my life for you all.

My life as you have now found out was not quite what you all thought, was it.

Your dad and I decided that none of you should know about our past until I had passed.

You have an extended family in Belgium that I hope one day you will meet; I have left all the details in a notepad with names and addresses."

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"Ben, just who the fuck was my mother?

He sat dumbfounded unable to speak just staring at the letter in my hands.

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"Admiral Hennessey died a while ago, but his office still holds all of my files for you to look through. Your father and I did things in the war that we would rather forget, so we decided to never tell any of you about our past.

He was the kindest most perfect man I could ever have wished to meet, and I loved him to my last breath. You will learn things about me from my files that may contradict this, but we were in times of war, we both had to do things that we would rather have not done.

I do not regret any of my time in Belgium, I loved another man for a time and had many adventures. But please believe me I never stopped loving your dad, ever.

If you find this letter before your dad has passed, I hope he talks of our time before you all with kind words.

Know this, that I loved all of you so much and wish I was still holding all of you in my arms.

Goodbye my babies, we will meet again. I love you. Mum XXXXX"

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I burst into floods of tears and Ben held me tightly crying almost as much as I was. I was a wreck and sporadically sobbed for the rest of the evening.

Ben rang my brother and sisters, bollocks to the M.O.D. they needed to know the truth.

I took the rest of the week as holiday time at work, much to their disapproval because of the late notice but I needed it.

The next morning after their kids had all gone to school my two sisters and brother turned up.

Billy came out with it first,

"Ok sis what's the emergency, I'm in deep shit at work for not going in today, this better be good!"

Ben took them all into the lounge with a pot of tea and biscuits, a bottle of scotch with 4 glasses for good measure.

"I'll leave you alone love; this needs to come from you."

Alice looked scared, "What is it Sally, are you ok, it's not cancer is it? Her eyes were welling up dreading my answer."

"What's happened," asked Billy.

I tried to calm them all,

"No, I am ok. This about mum and dad, sit everyone sit down please, I have a few things to go over with you."

Over the next hour or two I told them the story of the past weekend; Ben came back into a wall of noise as the questions flew back and forth. He had to read her letter as I couldn't because the tears were falling again.

We all cried together at the heartfelt beauty of her words.

We explained that we could not really 'legally' tell them everything as we were bound to the forms we had signed, so to please, please keep this only to spouses until we knew more.

We all passed the notebooks and diary between us reading them with open mouths.

"Mum was married, before our dad?"

Mary started to say between sobs,

"Wait, wait, I thought mum and dad married in 1939, she always told me she married dad before the Blitz?"

Did this Mr. Ashford say she loved this Harry man? What about dad, did she betray him?