We Can Work It Out A puzzling Valentine’s Day

Michael and Hannah’s feelings become clearer as hidden meanings start to emerge…

It was her own fault, Hannah knew that. It was, after all, she who’d said no to Michael’s invitation to dinner on Valentine’s Day. He’d suggested going to the smartest restaurant in town, and she’d made the mistake of sighing.

His face had puckered in a frown, and she could see he’d misinterpreted her lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s not you,” she’d said hastily. “I’d love to go out on Valentine’s Day – it’s just the whole sentimental-overpricedred-roses-pink-food stuff that restaurants go in for. It’s altogether too commercialised. Could we do something different?”

She’d been going out with Michael for six months, and if she was strictly honest with herself (and just the thought embarrassed her), she’d been worried that he was going to propose – very publicly – in the restaurant, with everyone watching.

She loved Michael to bits, but he did have a romantic streak which verged on the corny, whereas she was rather more… down-to-earth, she supposed.

So now she was landed with a mystery date – for which she’d had to take the day off – to somewhere an hour’s drive away; and knowing Michael’s love of history, it would probably be a battlefield or a tank museum or something.

He’d said to wear flat shoes, and that was the only clue he’d given her. Next time (if there was a next time – and she sincerely hoped there would be) she’d just say yes to the romantic-music-andred-roses-meal with a better grace.

“Where are we going?” she asked again as the car sped past a park on the outskirts of Milton Keynes.

“Ah, wait and see!” Michael answered, looking delighted with himself. “We’re nearly there…”

Hannah concentrated on keeping her expression neutral; wherever he was taking her she must look pleased. Very pleased.

Michael was driving confidently and still smiling.

“You seem to know the way,” she ventured. “Have you been here before?” “Many, many times,” he said. “Oh, so I’m not the first, then?” she asked him teasingly.

They were stopped at traffic lights, and he turned to look into her eyes.

“You’re certainly the first girl I’ve brought here. This place is too special to me to take just anyone to.”

So she’d better look not only pleased, but honoured.

“Bletchley Park?” Hannah said, as they drew up. “Where the codebreakers worked in the war?” She hadn’t had to think about sounding pleased. “How exciting! I’ve always meant to come here – what a lovely surprise.” Michael beamed at her. “When I was a child I was desperate to be a codebreaker, and when this place opened its doors to the public, it was magic!”

Yet another thing she hadn’t known about him.

“Really? I used to make up codes all the time when I was little,” Hannah said, grinning at him. “I had books full of them. Sadly, my mother always seemed to be able to work them out…”

It became clear as they started their tour that Michael really did know a lot about the place, and Hannah soon found herself lost in the fascination of it all. It came as a surprise when Michael suggested lunch.

“I had no idea it was so late,” she said, as he led her to the café. “And there’s still a lot to see, isn’t there?”

“If you’re not too worn out,” he answered. “But there is one special place I really want you to see.”

They ate their lunch, with Hannah quizzing him and Michael saying – again – that it would be a surprise.

But there were other places to see first, and it was late afternoon before they arrived at the Codebreakers’ Wall. Hannah gazed at the brick wall, each with a single name carved on it.

“They’re to commemorate the codebreakers,” Michael explained. “People sponsor a brick in their honour…” He was walking slowly along the wall, but stopped suddenly. “This is ours,” he said, and Hannah could hear a slight catch in his voice.

“Yours?” she echoed, staring at the brick he was pointing at.

“My great-grandmother,” he said simply. “She came to work here as a codebreaker in 1943, when she was twenty-two. She met my great- grandfather here, and they got married a couple of years later, just before the war ended. They used to write to each other in code – my grandmother found lots of their letters when she was going through their house, and they were just gobbledegook. They died before I was born, of course,” he added sadly. “I would have loved to talk to them.”

“You must be… so proud.” There was an unexpected lump in Hannah’s throat, and she reached for Michael’s hand. They both stood and stared at the brick for a while longer.

“Ah well, better get on,” Michael said abruptly, but Hannah wasn’t taken in. Even she felt emotional, so goodness knew what it was like for him.

“I’m so pleased you brought me here,” she said quietly. “It’s really been very moving.”

He squeezed her hand and nodded. “Shall we head back? And maybe find somewhere for some supper?”

Hannah wondered whether anywhere would have a table free on Valentine’s Day, but hoped they would. She really didn’t want the day to end.

They drove along some winding little lanes on the way back (Michael said he was avoiding the rush hour traffic) and passed a number of pretty pubs, none of which Michael said would do. At last they saw a really picturesque one which met with his approval.

It looked so perfect and romantic that it was bound to be booked solid, Hannah thought, but they went in anyway, and were instantly shown to a table in the corner.

“How DEVIOUS you must think me.” He PRETENDED to be AFFRONTED

“I picked something up off the floor at Bletchley,” he said as they began looking at the menu. “See if you can make it out.”

He handed her a pristine piece of paper that had clearly never been anywhere near a floor, at Bletchley or anywhere else. There was a string of letters on it, which looked as if they had been typed on an old-fashioned typewriter. Hannah frowned.

“And you picked this up off the floor?” she asked.

“Yep,” he said unconvincingly. “It’s obviously a code, but I can’t make any sense of it. You have a go.”

Hannah looked again at the row of letters. Could she possibly be right? NZIIBNVKOVZHV “Hmm. Unusual to have two Zs. And three Vs… I suppose V might represent E, since that’s the commonest letter in English,” she said, trying not to smile. “Always assuming that the message is in English, I mean. Do you speak any other languages you haven’t told me about?”

Michael grinned sheepishly. “I can see I’ve been sussed,” he said. “You’re right, of course, it’s my secret code. But you’re the one who has to crack it! Mind you, when I wrote it I didn’t know you were a closet codebreaker.”

“Goodness, you have planned ahead,” she said. “But then, I should have guessed that. The only way you’d have got a table here tonight is if you’d booked ahead, am I right?”

“How devious you must think me,” he said, pretending to be affronted.

“In that case, it should say something like HappyValentine’sDay…” She pretended to study the message again. “But there aren’t enough letters…”

How long could she pretend not to have cracked it?

“I suppose if V is E…” She started counting on her fingers. “And then, Z would be A…”

She couldn’t do it. This was going to take too long. It was clear that A was Z and B was Y and C was X and so on… she’d used codes based on a backwards alphabet throughout her childhood. Michael looked at her quizzically. “You’ve cracked it, haven’t you?” Hannah felt herself going pink. “I think so. But I don’t want to make a complete prat of myself if I’m wrong…”

“You’re not wrong,” Michael said, taking her hands. But how did you work it out so fast?”

At that instant a waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket.

“Well the champagne’s a clue,” Hannah said, laughing. “And,” she continued, looking at Michael shyly, “because before I even looked at it I knew what I wanted it to say.”

And then Michael did what she thought she’d been dreading: he got down on one knee in front of the whole restaurant.

“Marry me, please,” he said, quoting the typewritten code.

And she found she didn’t mind at all.