Morina and the Switching Spell Ch. 04
Chapter 4: Morina arrives in London and gets interrogated.
Warning to readers: this chapter contains a form of non-consensual sex.
17 May 1944, Wednesday.
"Maureen O'Spellman! You're next!" The full-figured, raven-haired woman behind the military liaison desk called out.
"That's Morina Spellman!" I corrected loudly from my seat in the reception area.
"Maureen, you're next," the woman called again. The large-chested woman adjusted her bra beneath her uniform as she looked out into the reception area. She scowled when she saw me.
"It's Morina, not Maureen!" I shouted back, as I picked up my pack and approached the reception desk.
"Just what I need, another fuckin' Irish cunt looking for her lost lover,"
the raven-haired receptionist said beneath her breath.
It was late in the afternoon and there was still a half dozen people waiting their turn to make inquiries about their son, father, or brother in one of the many camps around England. Only two people were working the reception desk, the rude raven-haired woman with the bob cut and large breasts in front of me and the short, copper redhead with curly hair behind her. Both women were wearing British auxiliary uniforms with their hair tucked neatly under their caps, although the redhead's hair curled up and around the sides. She stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at me when my name was called.
The rude receptionist looked at me and glowered, "The name on the check-in sheet says Maureen O'Spellman, not Morina Spellman."
I glowered back, "Well then, the woman at the check-in desk got it wrong. My name is Morina, M-O-R-I-N-A, Spellman, S-P-E-L-L-M-A-N, and I'm not another 'fucking Irish cunt,' as one look at the WASP uniform I'm wearing should have told you. I'm an American and I'm looking for my brother, Lee."
The short redhead who had been watching me quickly picked up the phone and started to talk to someone. I was sure the MPs would be here at any minute. It looked like my attempt to visit my brother was quickly turning into a disaster.
The big-chested receptionist sighed impatiently, exhaling in my face. There were the lingering odors of cheese raw onion on her breath.
"I don't know what kind of name 'Morina' is, but this paper says Maureen and if that's not you, Miss O'Spellman, then step aside. We have people behind you who need to be seen and we don't need any troublemakers."
"I'm not a troublemaker, and the name is Spellman, not O'Spellman," I insisted, "Here is my ID if you don't believe me. I've been waiting here for nearly four hours. Now, are you going to help me locate my brother or not?"
"Fine," the raven-haired receptionist said tersely, "What is your brother's name?"
"I believe your records list him as Morley Eldridge. He's with the--" I started to say when the woman interrupted me.
"I thought you said his name was Lee?" she asked. In addition to the iciness in her voice, there was the distinct undertone of annoyance.
"You're right, sorry. I've always called him Lee. His Army name is listed as Morley Eldridge. He's with the 5-1-2
Fighter Squadron, but--" I began again before she interrupted me again.
"His last name is Eldridge? I thought you said you were his sister. This ID says your last name is Spellman. Is that your married name?"
"No, I'm not married. You see, there was a mix-up at the Army recruitment office--" I began.
"Look Miss...Spellman or Maureen or whatever your real name is. I don't know what you're up to, but you had better leave now. We can't give out information to every love-sick tart that comes along looking for her lover. What did he do, knock you up or something?" the receptionist sneered dismissively.
The redhead working behind the desk hung up the phone and came up to the reception desk.
"I'll take this one, Rita. Why don't you see one more and then take a break?" the redhead said, eyeing me with her light green eyes.
"Thank you, Amanda, but let me know if you want me to call the MPs. She's got an American accent, but I can spot an Irish camp follower a mile away," Rita said. She looked at the sign-up list and then she called out. "Beatrice! Beatrice Butterfield! You're next!"
"Here!" a voice in the waiting area called out.
"Would you mind coming back here with me, Miss?" the redhead asked.
I picked up my pack and followed her into a small room behind the reception area. She shut the door behind me and asked me to take a seat at the table in the middle of the room.
"I'm terribly sorry for that mix-up out there. I'm Amanda Chanter. Now what can I do for you Miss...Spellman did you say?" the redhead asked after sitting in the chair on the other side of the table.
"Yes, Miss Chanter, I'm looking for my brother. His real name is Morley Spellman, but I think he may be listed as Eldridge in your records," I explained.
"I'm sure I can help you locate him. Did I hear you say he's with an American unit, the 5-1-2 Fighter Squadron?" she asked.
"That's right," I replied.
"And you came here all the way from America?" she asked, eyeing my uniform.
"Yes. I'm with the WASP transport program. I flew a B-17 to Liverpool from Hanscom Army Base in Massachusetts. I arrived in London by train late last night and I've been waiting all day to find out where Lee is stationed so I can visit him," I explained.
"You arrived in London last night? Where are you staying?" She asked.
"Well, uh, nowhere at the moment. I slept in the train station last night. The policeman there was going to ask me to leave, but I guess he took pity on me when he saw my uniform," I explained. I purposely neglected to mention that I used a compulsion spell on him to "help" him change his mind.
"I see," the woman said, eyeing me suspiciously, "and where are you planning to stay tonight? This office will be closing soon."
"I-I'm not sure. I was hoping to find my brother first and then figure something out afterwards. I thought being a pilot and in the Women's Airforce Service Pilots program, that maybe the military liaison office might offer some assistance or have some recommendations," I answered.
In fact, I was prepared to use another spell on one of the women here to find a place to crash for the night. This Amanda looked like a good prospect so far.
"Miss Spellman, you've traveled a long way to look for your brother. The least we can do is to help you locate him and find you a place to sleep tonight. If you don't mind waiting here until I finish my shift, I would be glad to help you personally," she said, smiling.
"Oh, I couldn't ask you--" I began.
"Think nothing of it! Especially after the way Rita treated you. It will only be another hour if you don't mind waiting," Miss Chanter interrupted while getting to her feet.
She left me in the room and went back into the reception area while I waited. A few minutes later, Rita came in.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked.
"That other woman, Miss Chanter, asked me to wait here," I explained perfunctorily.
Rita glared at me before she turned and left. She left the door ajar and I heard her arguing with Amanda about leaving me in the back room.
An hour later, Miss Chanter came back.
"Thank you for waiting. Your story is quite impressive. You're a very determined and resourceful woman," she said.
"Thank you. But I don't have to tell you that women in the military need to be resourceful," I replied.
"Well, let's start with a place for you to stay tonight. We can't have you sleeping in train stations now, can we? Bring your bag and follow me," she said.
"I'd rather start by finding my brother, Miss Chanter," I replied.
"Please, call me Amanda. It's getting late and I'd rather we get you settled first. You look like you could use a good meal and a decent night's sleep. There will be plenty of time to find your brother in the morning," she responded.
I followed her to an "underground station," London's version of a subway, and after several stops, we emerged in a nightmarish world of crumbling buildings and torn up streets. She led me down a couple more blocks to a group of buildings that were standing intact and looked like they were recently repaired. There was a military staff car parked outside of the building we entered. We climbed the stairs to the second floor.
"This is my flat," she said, unlocking the door with the number 22 on it.
"Oh, Miss Chanter! I couldn't possibly impose on you--" I started to say.
"Now, none of that. I insist that you call me Amanda. You've come all this way to find your brother, and after the way you were treated at the liaison office, this is the least I could do," she said as she opened the door.
The single room apartment or "flat" was divided into two sections. On one side was a "living room" area with a single small sofa against the back wall and two beds on opposite side walls: one near the door and the other on the far wall where the only window was located. The shade was down, blocking light from getting into or out of the flat. On the other side of the room was a small "kitchen area," consisting of a table and chairs, a small counter space for food preparation, a hot plate, a toaster and several storage cabinets and drawers.
Standing in the kitchen area was an attractive blonde who turned and smiled as I walked in.
"Hello," she said as she saw me.
"Hi," I responded, smiling.
"Miss Spellman, this is my flat mate, Agatha Brewster. Aggie, this is Morina Spellman. She's come all the way over here from America looking for her brother Morley, and doesn't have a place to stay, so I invited her here for the night," Amanda announced as she removed her cap. Her curly copper-colored hair cascaded down her shoulders to her upper back.
"Welcome, Miss Spellman," Agatha said, smiling.
"Thank you. But please call me Morina," I replied.