Chapter 22: Margery

The Gestapo interrogation of Margery went slowly, partly because she knew nothing of interest to them, and partly because they wouldn't tell her what they wanted to know. The psychological pressure was an exquisitely balanced combination of extensive threats and occasional genuine punishments. Rape and sodomy were not part of her torture, though she was repeatedly told that this was because she was so physically unattractive that no soldier could be found who was willing to perform these acts.

Many of the questions seemed innocuous, but Margery often could not answer them.

The interrogator asked, "What colour is the wallpaper in the anteroom to the Senior Officers' Mess at the camp you were taken to?" but although she racked her brains she could not answer, no matter how often or how loudly it was repeated. That even earned her a slap across the face with the interrogator's gloves.

Another question was, "Where did the Arsenal play football before the war?" which left her at a total loss, but unable to convince these men that she knew nothing of football. Her bottom felt the piano wire again, several times, as this question returned from time to time. In the end Margery suggested they visit the local public library where this information would be readily available.

A more serious question was, "Who are the leaders of the Resistance in Norwich?" Margery's problems were that she knew no names of anybody in the resistance, and in any case she lived a hundred or more miles from Norwich. Strangely the Gestapo did not press this question at all hard.

The only case where real torture was used, consisting of twisting her body into very unnatural positions which cause considerable continuous muscular pain and cramping was one which seemed innocent. "Where do you think the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret Rose are?"

Her consistent answer was that she did not actually know, but that she assumed they were living at Buckingham Palace with the King and Queen. This just angered her interrogators, and it was only much later that Margery realised that the Princesses must have been hidden away and the Germans could not find them.

At the start of another of these interminable sessions, the little fat interrogator looked at her with distaste on his face and said, "Just get rid of her." She was suddenly gripped with a total certainty that she was to be shot forthwith.

Then, much to her surprise, Margery was given her evening dress and told to put it on. The guards escorted her in a different direction through the building, opened a door and pushed her through it. The sunshine was almost painful after the time she had spent indoors under artificial light. When there were no more pushes to indicate which way she should go she turned to find that the guards had gone back inside and the door had been shut.

Although she could not quite believe it, she was apparently free. She was standing bare-footed wearing only a rather daring evening dress in broad daylight on a small cul-de-sac which seemed to lead to a fairly busy street. Since she had no choice, she walked to the corner and peered cautiously round. She did not recognise where she was and so she drew back into the shadow of the building she had just left to consider her options.

She had no money and almost no clothes, she had no idea where she was, and she did not even know what time it was, let alone what day it was.

She looked round the corner again and saw a middle-aged woman coming towards her. Summoning up all her courage, she asked, "Can you help me, please?"

"Have you just come out of there?" was the response.

Margery nodded.

"Go away," replied the woman and moved as if to walk on.

"Just tell me where I am, and what day it is, please?" she begged.

"You are in Bedford, and it is Thursday." With that curt reply the woman pushed past her and walked quickly away.

Margery realised that she couldn't remember what day she had been brought here, and Bedford was about fifty miles from her home.

Just then a man behind her said, "Have you just been released?"

She turned and saw a tall, thin man in a dark suit; without thinking she nodded.

"Good. I'm Mike Jones. A group of us help people who have survived a visit to our friends," he nodded towards the building, "as they usually need help. Let me guess, no money, no clothes and no idea how to get home. Walking won't do, especially as you have no shoes. We often wonder what they do with all the shoes, since released prisoners never have any." While he talked he gently steered her towards an old and battered car.

Mechanically, she obeyed his indication that she should get into the car. Her treatment by the Gestapo had her thoroughly conditioned to obeying orders. They drove for only a few minutes to a small terraced house in the back streets of the town, where Mike took her into the front room and sat her down. The room was warm and cosy, so Margery sat just luxuriating in the warmth, comfort, normality, and apparent security of the house.

Some minutes later Mike came back into the room with some clothes over his arm. There was a white blouse and a plaid skirt, some socks such as a school-girl might wear, and a pair of school shoes. "I'm sorry; my clothes would be too big for you, but you may be able to use my daughter's things," he said.