They have sent girls from all over the country to live in France and appear innocent and pretty and find out anything they can from the Germans. Or – like me, take actual missions when they are sent. I go behind Violet and space out dresses along the metal racks. There are three new polka-dot designs. A dark blue Lindy Bop. Pockets on a peasant skirt. Seven mustard tea dresses. Two black halter-necks. Parachute-silk knickers. Seamed stockings. Four pairs of high-waisted jeans. Pussy-bow blouses. A-line skirts. Pleats, tucks and shirring. Shoulder pads. Candy tops with a sweetheart neckline. Belts. An Evergreen playsuit that I love so much I would fly any old plane eight hundred times just to see it in my wardrobe. I am shallow. My brother always told me so.

Violet goes up to the counter with a top.

She looks like a normal person.

Every time I see her, I learn more and more how to do this.

I go back behind the till. She nods so I know we can talk quietly.

– Violet, what if Nazis want to sleep with me?

– Say you won’t until you are married.

– Who will train me next?

– F Section will train you as a field agent. You’ve already been cleared for security purposes.

We continue to talk at the till – just a young shop girl talking fashion in a tiny boutique while the leaves on the Meadows turn ochre and passers-by go about their day.

1956

Flat 5F5

Agnes Campbell (63) the fraudulent mediums act

SHE HAS ectoplasm in her purse. It is a thick, clotted, mucous-like substance. It came from a vagina. It mustn’t be exposed to light (the ectoplasm) so she has to dispose of it the right way. It didn’t actually come from a vagina – the fraud just kept it stuffed in there. A common scam. The ‘ectoplasm’ is paper and egg white, mushed down with chemicals. A fake medium swallows it and regurgitates at will during her seance but this one had no gag reflex. She had to be stopped regardless. It’s hard enough for anyone with genuine skill to be taken seriously. Agnes is entirely with Houdini: track down frauds. Get rid of them. Agnes had thought she’d be sick at the table this morning. Pretending to be a sitter. Watching as the woman lifted her skirts and flung out ectoplasm, expelled it into a bowl, then brandished it around at her audience wildly.

Agnes stayed behind after.

– I am a member of the Spiritualist Society.

– Aye? What the fuck d’ye want?

Agnes is small but she was raised with nine brothers on a worse side of town than this one.

– The government has repealed the UK Witchcraft Laws, she stated.

– Fucks sake, does that mean they’ll no burn you?

– To deter fakes, like you, they’ve passed a new Fraudulent Mediums Act.

– Are you trying tae say you’ve really got the gift?