Chapter Text
The Mailroom
March 3, 1941
Intelligence HQ, Bloomsbury, London
Mavis stopped on the bustling street just outside the imposing building that housed Intelligence HQ. Set in the middle-class neighbourhood of Bloomsbury, the grey stone building dominated its corner spot on the street. Sandbags piled high against its walls, protecting it from the blasts that rarely touched this part of London. Still, despite its relatively safe location, it wasn't completely unscathed. Mavis spotted a few cracked windows on its fourth floor, evidence that Jerry hit here, even if his main hunting ground was the East End.
She remembered her heart plummeting into her stomach when she had received that first telegram. Before she had even opened it, a chill ran down her spine. She knew what sort of news those telegrams brought, and it was never good. She had worried it would inform her that her brother was dead, leaving her utterly alone in the world.
Peter. Her rock. Her brother, turned father.
That telegram had the power to rip him away from her. She had opened it, hands shaking, but resolve firm. Peter had raised her tough; she would face the truth, no matter what it was.
Missing in action.
Three words that brought a glimmer of hope. It was a chance, no matter how small, that he was still alive. She held onto that hope as if it were her only lifeline in a storm sea of fear.
Peter wasn't dead. Couldn't be dead. Not him.
Two painfully slow weeks later, another telegram arrived. Peter was alive and heading to a POW camp. A weight had lifted off Mavis' shoulders as hope surged through her. Peter, a prisoner yes, but he would come home someday. She wasn't alone.
But that meant Peter was sidelined. She knew it had to be eating him up. So she decided to take his place. Oh, she couldn't wield a weapon or fly a plane, but she could do something. Anything she could do to shorten the war. And, so, she joined the ATS, intent on serving however she could, even if it meant just serving coffee to tired soldiers.
After a month of basic training, she was here, ready to start her first shift in the mailroom. Mavis took a steadying breath of the cool spring air. The private's stripe on her sleeve felt heavy, reminding her of her commitment. Her commitment to her country, to herself, and, most importantly, to Peter.
Mavis caught sight of another girl, dressed in the same khaki blazer and skirt, hurrying up the steps to HQ. Mavis squared her shoulders and followed her in, pulling open the heavy oak doors. Inside, the main lobby was bustling. Women and men in uniform hurried to and fro under the high ceiling. A large portrait of King George VI loomed over the lobby, front and center on the far wall. She was half-tempted to salute it. Security guards were posted at the stairwell, the elevator, and near the long oak desk to the side. Bulletin boards and peeling posters declaring that "Loose Lips Sink Ships" and the like dotted the walls. From somewhere further back, Mavis could hear the clatter of trays and dishes along with the muted murmur of idle chatter.
Mavis soaked it all in. This would be her world now… She just needed to figure out where she was supposed to be!
She had lost sight of the girl she had followed in. But, surely, there had to be signage that pointed her in the right direction. She took another breath and started through the crowd.
"You there! Stop!"
Mavis wasn't sure if the rough command was directed at her, but she stopped anyway. A large guard stepped in front of her, hands across his chest. "And who might you be?" he asked, looking her up and down suspiciously.
"Mavis Newkirk, sir," Mavis answered, trying to sound confident. "Private Mavis Newkirk. I, er, I'm here for the mailroom. It's my first day, see?"
"Hmm." He didn't seem to impressed with her. "Where are your papers, then?" Mavis reached into her satchel and pulled out her paperwork. The guard looked it over quickly. "You need to sign in at the desk," he told her. "I'll ring your supervisor."
The guard beckoned for her to follow to the large front desk, a broad piece of polished wood that gleamed under the row of banker lamps that sat every few feet. Several workers sat behind the desk, answering telephones and writing notes. One of the men stood ready and handed Mavis a clipboard with a sign-in sheet. She quickly wrote her name, the date and time, and her assigned unit: the mailroom. Beside her, her escort reached over the desk and grabbed a telephone and quickly called for a Sergeant Chambers.
Mavis stood off to the side, pulling at her fingers while she waited. It was a nervous habit she had had since she was a girl and Peter always teased that one day she'd pull them right off!
"Private Newkirk?"
A woman approached, wearing an ATS uniform with three chevrons on her sleeve. She was perhaps in her forties, far older than Mavis. Strands of grey threaded through her dark hair which was pulled up into a severe bun. Upon her pinched nose sat a paid of glasses with a chain hanging off their arms.
"That's me," Mavis said, stepping forward. The woman, a sergeant, sniffed and checked her watch.
"You're late," the sergeant said as she looked Mavis up and down. From her expression, Mavis gathered she was not impressed.
"I'm sorry," Mavis apologized. "I… Well, I didn't know where to go. Didn't get a tour of the place in training."
"From now on, I want you to be five minutes early every day," the sergeant said. She turned on her heels and started walking. "this way. Don't dawdle."
Mavis adjusted the strap on her satchel and hurried after the sergeant. "What should I call you?" she asked when she caught up, falling in step slightly behind her.
"Sergeant Chambers," she replied crisply.
"Pleased to meet ya, Sergeant Chambers," Mavis said.
Chambers clicked her tongue. "Cockney, are you?"
"Right you are, missus. From Stepney. Must say, this lot here is nicer than anywhere my side of the river!"
"Sergeant or ma'am," Chambers said curtly.
"What?"
"It's Sergeant or ma'am, not missus. Didn't they teach you anything in training?" Chambers asked.
Mavis ducked her head sheepishly. "Yus, they did. But I…" Mavis faltered. "I'll try to do better. Marm."
Chambers sighed and led Mavis to a door with a sign hanging on it that read "Mail Room". It sat down the hall from the lobby and tucked in a corner. Chambers pushed it open and Mavis followed. Inside the air smelled like old paper and ink. There were three high desks, covered in stacks upon stacks of envelopes. There were five girls inside, all busy working. Chambers led Mavis to the table furthest from the door. The girl working there, sitting on a tall stool, paused and looked over at her, envelope and letter opener in her hands.
"This is Private Newkirk," Chambers announced. "Newkirk, this is your station. Do you know what you're supposed to be doing?"
"Yus missu— Marm. Open the letters, give 'em a read through, and mark 'em as safe or pass 'em along to the censors."
Chambers nodded. "And what, exactly, makes a letter stand out for censorship?"
Mavis mulled the answer over, as she pulled at her fingers. "Military details. Specific locations. Specifics on weather patterns," Mavis replied.
"Hmmm. Yes. Well, do your best. I will be checking your work throughout your shift," Chambers told her. "I warn you, I don't take this lightly. And I don't want dead weight around here."
"I'll do me best, mi—marm," Mavis promised. Chambers nodded and left her to it, leaving the mailroom. Mavis shrugged off her satchel and set it on the floor before hopping into the high stool at the desk.
"You're Cockney," the girl beside her said.
"And you're not," Mavis replied. She hesitated and grabbed an envelope and a knife and slit it open.
"No, I'm from right here in Bloomsbury," the girl replied. "I'm Doris Bennet. People call me Dory. And you're Newkirk?"
"Mavis," Mavis replied as she scanned the letter. Nothing caught her attention so she marked it safe and moved to another.
"Mavis," Dory said. "That's a nice name." She offered Mavis a small smile.
"Didn't name meself, but ta."
Dory frowned and turned back to her task. "Just trying to be friendly."
Mavis winced and nodded. "S'pose you were. Sorry. A bit on edge I guess."
"Well there's no need to be nervous," Dory said. "We got a pretty easy job all things considered."
"Easy if you can read," one of the girls behind her sniffed. Mavis tensed. That was the attitude she was looking for. She had figured she'd be the odd one out here with her Cockney burr and sensibilities.
"Wouldn't be here if I couldn't," Mavis said coolly.
Dory leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't mind Maggie. Her dad's got himself a knighthood. Thinks it makes her a bloody duchess!" Dory straightened and again offered Mavis a smile which she now returned. Dory turned in her seat. "That there's Ruby," she said, pointing to the girl directly behind her. The petite red-head waved back before returning to her work. "And that's Maggie." The blonde grunted. "And back there is Joan and Vera."
"Pleasure!" Vera chirped.
"Lovely to clap eyes on yas," Mavis said, causing a few of the girls to giggle. Mavis ignored it and scanned her next letter. Some lad complaining about the weather in Tobruk. Mavis stopped there and quickly marked the envelope with a 'C' and stuffed the letter back in.
"Oh! Listen to this then!" Ruby said suddenly. "Darling, remember that night we slipped off after that dance? You in that bloody red skirt that drove me wild. Couldn't wait to get it off of you! I can still feel your legs wrapped around me, trembling like you couldn't get enough."
"Right saucy that one, eh!" Vera said.
Mavis arched an eyebrow. "We s'posed to be reading 'em out like that?"
Dory flashed a wicked smile. "Only when Chambers isn't here. We need something to keep us entertained, don't we?"
"S'pose," Mavis said with a shrug. "Don't think I'd like someone gawking at me mail like that."
"Everyone knows their letters have to be inspected," Ruby said. "Know us censors gonna look through them. If they don't want those kind of things to be seen, then they shouldn't write them!"
"S'pose so." She'd have to warn Peter about that if he intended to write to his girl, Nancy. Or June. Or any of the other girls he had on his lines.
"They're good for a quick laugh, but it's not like we remember them once we're out the door," Vera piped up. "Well, not most of them, anyway."
The girls all tittered before Ruby laughed. "I still remember that one from the sailor! Cor! Remember when Chambers walked in in the middle of it? Thought she would drop dead right there!"
"Scandalous!" Vera cried, mocking Chamber's voice. "What filthy rubbish!" The girls all laughed and it was infectious enough for Mavis to join in.
"Oh, but the new one is right," Joan said. "We really mustn't."
"You really mustn't what?" It was Chambers, returning to the room once more.
"We mustn't hold up the war with idle chatter, Sergeant!" Dory said quickly.
"Quite right!" Chambers nodded. She came up beside Mavis and grabbed a letter off of her 'safe' pile.
"Private Newkirk, what's this?" she asked.
"What's what?" Mavis asked.
"Why did you mark this letter as safe?" Chambers held it out and Mavis scanned it. It seemed perfectly ordinary to her. A farmer droning on about how he's ready for spring to finally arrive. She glanced up at Chambers and was about to speak when Chambers cut her off with a sigh. "See here: we're expecting twelve new geese, three new sheep, and eleven hens. Do you see what's wrong?"
Mavis pulled at her fingers and cast her eyes at the letter again. "No?"
"Numbers," Dory said.
"Numbers?" Mavis repeated.
Chambers nodded. "Specific numbers like these are always suspicious. And look at their order. It makes more sense to go twelve, eleven, three, or three, eleven, twelve, doesn't it?"
Mavis cocked her head to the side. "I s'pose so."
"Any time we have specific numbers, it's a red flag. Do you know why?"
Mavis wracked her brain, dredging up her training once more. "Codes?"
"Exactly. It could be a coded message of some sort," Chambers confirmed. "I suppose I'll have to look through the rest of your pile now."
Mavis winced but sliced open another letter. "I'll try to do better, marm."
She scanned the contents of the next letter. Nothing stood out to her, except the atrocious spelling. Blimey, who didn't know how to spell the Prime Minister's name at this point? Winsten Churchille? Ah, but she supposed soldiers weren't all scholars and it was pretty funny that she of all people would expect them to be.
"Hmmm… I'll check on you later," Chambers said after she put the rest of the letters back. She put her hands behind her back and walked around the mailroom, occasionally grabbing sorted letters for a quick inspection.
"Oh, that wasn't too bad," Dory said as she leaned closer to Mavis. "We all make mistakes, even now."
"Good to know," Mavis said as she scanned another letter. Darling, we're moving on to Siddy Barrany next week. She marked it with a 'C' to pass along to the censors.
Bloody rain got me knackered! Safe
It's to much love. All the driling, all the practice? And for what? We're not gona be in France anytime soon. Bloody waste of time!
The usual gripes of a soldier. Mavis marked it as safe and moved on.
"Hold on!"
Mavis nearly jumped out of her skin and looked over her shoulder to see Chambers hovering.
"Marm?"
"That one goes to the censors, Newkirk," Chambers said.
"It does?" Mavis scanned it again. "Why?"
"Private Smith? Can you explain to her?"
Dory reached over and took the letter. She quickly scanned it and then laid it flat on the desk, smoothing it out. "See here, Mavis. All this banging on about how hopeless it all seems? It's important to keep morale up, so this goes off to the censors."
"What, we ain't allowed to complain?" That didn't bode well for Peter.
"Censors will decide how much they let through," Dory explained. "I imagine a bit is fine, but a whole letter? Not likely." She took out her own pen and marked the envelope with a 'C' before tossing it onto the pile.
"Good, Private Smith," Chambers said with a nod. "Keep on her. I don't have time to mind her."
"Yes ma'am," Dory said with a salute. Chambers sniffed and then, after loitering for a few more moments, left.
"You'll get the hang of it," Ruby said.
"Or not. And then you'll be out on your ear. Maybe wiping down tables is more your speed," Maggie said.
"Oh, I'll figure it out. Don't you worry about that!" Mavis exclaimed. She'd prove Maggie wrong, validate Ruby's trust, and earn her own place in the mailroom. Letter by letter, she'd help the war effort. It wasn't much, but it was the best she could do to bring Peter home.