The Secret Message (2 page)

Freddy and Giles became the closest of friends – growing up together and sharing their deepest thoughts whenever school holidays allowed. Their meetings were often at night in the stables or in the hay meadow at dawn where they played, chatted endlessly and watched the soaring skylarks in the clouds.

They sent each other coded letters, left in a
secret gap behind a plank in the stable. It was Giles who came up with the code to use.

‘Seeing as you’re mad about skylarks, why don’t we learn these lines from a poem called
The Skylark
?’ He showed Freddy a page from a poetry book:

‘All we have to do is number the lines and letters, and we can make secret messages that no one else will understand if they find them. So long as we don’t need the letters J, Q, V, X and Z we’ll be fine. So, to write the word
Freddy
all I have to do is find an F, which is in line 4 and the third letter. So F is 4:3. Your whole name will be:
4:3, 4:4, 1:3, 1:16, 1:16, 4:16.

‘What do you think?’

Freddy leapt up excitedly. ‘It’s like our own special, secret magic!’

Their coded letters and covert meetings stopped during term time – but the holidays became their happiest times of all. When Giles’s Mama discovered one of Freddy’s coded notes in the parlour, she insisted Giles explained to her what it meant.

‘Just some numbers, Mama. It’s a sort of puzzle I’m inventing, that’s all.’

Her icy stare convinced him she didn’t believe him. ‘You should never spend time on such nonsense. You must study your Latin and Greek, so go to your room immediately.’

Christmas 1913 brought few meetings, as deep snow threatened to reveal their footprints across the stable yard. With Freddy and
Gordon now working at a dairy in the next village (his mother wouldn’t let him ask the Squire for a job), there were fewer chances to meet up. So, just before Giles was due to return to school, they braved a blizzard to meet at midnight in one of the outbuildings. Clutching lanterns and gifts, they huddled in the straw while icy wind rattled the bolted door.

‘These presents are for Christmas, but also our fourteenth birthday,’ Giles began. Freddy looked embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got any money for proper presents, so I’ve got you these. I hope you like them.’

Giles tore off the tissue paper to reveal two pictures and a little wooden carved dog.

‘That’s my most precious thing in the world,’ Freddy said. ‘But I want you to have it. Our Pa made it and Ma wanted me to have it – but I’ve enjoyed it for fourteen years, so now
it’s your turn for the next fourteen. You can give it back then!’

Giles was speechless as he turned the little carving around in his fingers. ‘Thank you so much, Freddy. I will treasure this. And this little painting of a bird – it’s perfect. You can draw and paint much better than me. Just look at this lovely brush work and the way you’ve coloured the feathers so delicately. And this flower looks so real …’

Freddy grinned proudly. ‘I’m glad you like it. I made the brushes. The cat’s missing a few chunks off his tail! I also made the colour washes myself from soil and plants.’

‘Freddy, you’re so clever.’ Giles fell silent for a long time before adding, ‘Your life is so much richer than mine. I’ve got nothing. Just my inheritance one day. But that means nothing. You’re everything to me now. You and your family.’

‘
OUR
family. So what did your Mama and Papa give you for Christmas?’

Giles looked away. ‘Actually, they don’t give me presents. They never have. But here, have a look at yours.’ He handed Freddy a small box tied with a purple ribbon. As he untied it and opened the lid, Freddy gasped and took out a watch on a chain.

‘No, Giles, you can’t give me this. It’s the most valuable thing I’ve ever seen.’

Just then another gust of snowy wind tore at the door, stirred the straw around their feet and flickered their lanterns. They dived behind a pile of sacks in panic … only to laugh helplessly when they discovered it was just the wind. That night, despite the biting cold, they each realised their friendship was warmer and deeper than ever before. Neither of them imagined it could ever end. But next Christmas the world would be very different.

Everyone was talking about the war long before its ripples began to reach the village.

A few of the Squire’s workers joined up and went off to fight somewhere across the Channel. They and the soldiers rounding up farm horses to take off to France all boasted of giving the Hun a bloody nose – and all would be over by Christmas. But it wasn’t.

In fact, just before Christmas, the newspapers reported that British towns on the east coast were fired on by German ships. Over one hundred people, including children, were killed in one attack. The enemy was despised more than ever.

The following year, Zeppelins began bombing Britain. These German airships killed civilians, caused destruction and brought blackouts to London. More young men rushed to join up, all keen to do their patriotic duty. In 1916, Harry Ovel was almost old enough to enlist as a soldier so, after a little white lie, he proudly went off to France in his smart new uniform. Maud waved him off, cheering and singing while his mother wept into her hanky.

By the end of the year, Harry’s letters home no longer shone with his usual sparkle and wit. Even so, Freddy read every word
carefully and showed the letters to Giles.

‘I can’t wait till I can go out there and join Harry,’ Freddy said. ‘I’m dying to do my bit for King and Country. Not only that, I’d get to travel and see other countries. I’m not like you, Giles – I’ve never been more than a few miles from home. I need to
LIVE
.’

In the Easter holidays of 1917, the twins met in the stable – for that conversation they’d been waiting for. It was Giles who started it.

‘Freddy, what do you think I should do? My headmaster says I should go up to Oxford next year to study Classics. He’s teaching me Latin and says I’d make a good scholar and an officer. But I just don’t think that’s for me. I can’t talk to Mama or Papa because they want me to become a businessman and run this place. I’d hate that, too.’

Freddy laughed. ‘You’re lucky to have a
choice! Gordon and me struggle on at the dairy, where I have to keep a close eye on him. But he’s a good sort and …’ he paused to watch for a reaction. ‘I promised Daisy I’d look after him. You see, Daisy and me are now er …’

‘Sweethearts, is that it?’

‘Yeah. I’d like you to meet her, Giles. She’s lovely. She’s now working as a parlour maid for the rector. But listen, I’ve been thinking. When Harry comes home on leave, why don’t we plan a big surprise? You can come and see Daisy, Maud and Ma. I’ll warn her first.’

Giles beamed. ‘I’ve always wanted to see them all. I can’t wait. I just don’t want to upset Ma, that’s all.’

‘Talking of upsetting people,’ Freddy fidgeted awkwardly, ‘I don’t know what you’ll think about what I’m going to say. I know some twins can tell what the other is thinking but …’

Giles held Freddy’s arm. ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking. I’ve been thinking it too. I want to come with you. We could join up together. We’d have to lie about our age, but it would be wonderful to be together and away from all this.’

Freddy paced up and down, excited and yet unsure. ‘You read my mind exactly, but I had no idea you’d want to come as well. Harry said half the boys who enlisted with him were under nineteen and lied. Some were as young as fifteen. They all do it and the army turns a blind eye. Our country needs us all. The thing is, I just have to convince Ma and Daisy. But I will. Giles, we’ll do it. We’ll go. We’ll fight the Hun side by side and end this war once and for all.’

Freddy patiently explained to Gordon all about Giles as the three of them walked across
the market square in town at the Easter Fair. Despite being told many times, Gordon was still confused. ‘But I can’t tell which of you is which.’

Freddy grinned. ‘This is the only difference.’ He pulled his shirt collar down over his left shoulder, to reveal a small red mark. ‘I’ve got a birthmark but Giles hasn’t! It’s a bit like an upside-down letter
f
for Freddy.’

‘That’s no good to me,’ Gordon smiled. ‘I can’t read.’

Suddenly a commanding cry rang out from the steps of the town hall, which was draped in flapping Union Jack bunting. A sergeant major barked orders at a military band marching past, where sunlight danced from a swirl of glinting brass. A crowd gathered and clapped at the impressive walrus-moustached figure on the steps.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not going to mince my words. To be perfectly frank, we’re taking a right bashing over the Channel. Our chaps are putting on a jolly good show, but it only needs a few spanners in the works for things to go skew-whiff. To put it bluntly, it’s a darn sweat. In short, this old war is turning out to be a bit of a tough nut to crack. We need fresh blood out there to help chivvy our boys. So who’s prepared to come with me and give the Bosch a damned good hiding?

‘My question is simple: Do you want to wake up with the Hun in your bed? Well, do you? Do you? DO YOU?’ He pointed directly at Gordon and all heads turned.

Gordon hesitated and stuttered, ‘I ain’t got a bed. I sleep on the couch.’

As quick as a flash, the officer barked back. ‘Then you need to join His Majesty’s Army so you can sleep at night with a clear conscience
and a true British sense of pride.’

No one was prepared for Gordon’s response. ‘Not me, sir. I’m a bit simple, sir.’

There was instant muttering from the crowd before the sergeant major retorted, ‘You can hold a rifle, can’t you? Then you’re just who we need. Who’ll be the first brave lad to come here and take the King’s shilling? I’m looking for boys with hearts of oak – and we’ll turn you into men of steel.’

A man in the crowd called out, ‘Come on boys, what’s keeping you? Why aren’t your fathers telling you? All fathers here say “aye” if you agree these boys should go out there and all pull together. It’ll be a piece of cake, won’t it men?’

They all shouted ‘Aye!’

Freddy rushed forward. ‘I will. I want to join up, sir.’ There were loud cheers.

‘Splendid,’ the officer smirked. ‘And what
about your friends? Are they men of courage, or cowards? Will they be champions or chickens? Do they want medals blazoned on their chests, or white feathers stuffed in their lily-white palms?’

Giles ran to join Freddy at the recruiting desk. ‘And me, I want to go with him.’

Many in the crowd looked with disbelief as if they were seeing double. Gordon stepped forward gingerly and called up to the sergeant major. ‘In that case, I don’t suppose you’ve got room for one more?’

After training camp, the new recruits were kitted up and soon sailing across the Channel. Men, horses, artillery and supplies landed in France under leaden skies, before the convoy headed eastwards towards Flanders, through driving rain over rutted roads grey with mud.

Daisy and Ma anxiously waited for news, while the Squire and his wife were furious.
After Sunday Evensong, Squire Hoadley made a public announcement in church that he disowned his wretched son for leaving no more than a scribbled note declaring he had abandoned his education to enlist while under age. ‘These are the thanks we get as devoted parents. Our son sneaks off to become no more than a rookie private, when he should be top officer class. It’s an utter disgrace.’

As soon as they got to their sleeping quarters close to the front, the new recruits met their sergeant, who clearly intended to make their lives a misery.

‘You lot are in for a treat, I can tell you. Heaven help you if you fail to obey your superiors at all times. That’s me. When I say “jump”, you leap … or else.’

He looked directly at Freddy and Giles. ‘And
what have we got here, then? Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Name?’

‘Private Ovel, sir.’

‘Two Ovels, I see.’

‘No, sir,’ Giles corrected him. ‘I’m Private Hoadley.’

The sergeant pressed his nose up against Giles’s and barked, ‘Rule one: Never tell me I’m wrong, lad. I smell a rat. If I say yer twins, don’t answer back. Just because you try to sound all lah-di-dah, Hoadley – it don’t mean you can impress me, you little jumped-up maggot. Do you take me for a fool?’

Giles was about to respond, but Freddy stopped him. ‘One of us was adopted, sir.’

The sergeant paused and sneered. ‘Is that so? I can tell you’re the dregs of the two, Ovel. Listen all of you. I’m telling you where you’ll be working first; shoring-up and tunnelling. “C” section is laying explosives, so they’ll need
their kip when they come back shortly. That means quiet. Then you lot take over. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yessir.’ Gordon’s swift response surprised them all. He smiled proudly and gave Freddy a wink.

‘And another thing …’ the sergeant sneered. ‘When you write home, I’ll be reading every word and tearing up anything that gives away information or tells things as they really are – such as you’re soaking wet all day and night, you’re itching with lice, swarming with rats or you’ve got the runs and foot rot. Is that clear, Private Hoadley?’

‘Yes sir.’

As the weeks passed, the sergeant’s taunts never stopped. If any letters came through from home, Giles received nothing. He had no
one to write to, either. The sergeant jibed him constantly as ‘Lonely Hoadley’.

Freddy would read Gordon’s letters to him. Daisy wrote regularly to them both, but Freddy would sit for long periods alone whenever he heard from her. Giles could tell he was troubled, but then the day came when a letter arrived that reduced Freddy to tears. The news finally reached him that brother Harry had been killed a month ago at Ypres. Giles tried to console him, but that night they both wept together as never before.

Autumn arrived with more rain, heavy mists and freezing nights. The back-breaking work of digging tunnels and building trenches continued with little rest. Only when shells were falling or there were threats of gas attacks could work be stopped.

It was while they were resting and playing cards one evening that the sergeant burst in.

‘Stand by your beds. We’ve just received orders from HQ. I need a patrol immediately. Grab your rifles at the double. We’re to find out what size regiments have come into the line opposite – however far that might be. Maps are still patchy, and due to fog and failing light, spotter planes haven’t got that information. Our orders are to go on foot now – while visibility’s poor and we’re out of sight. Instructions are to creep up on enemy lines, grab a prisoner and bring him back for interrogation. Get your gasmasks and over we go. Hurry up, you lot, move yourselves …’