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Miller H Caldwell, click here
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The end or was it?
Chapter 27
Postscript
By the time we met our parents again, my hair had found its natural parting, but the black hair was going to take longer to lighten and eventually disappear. In fact, our hair was not too dissimilar in colour. My beard had long since been shaved off.
I resumed studies to gain my teaching certificate and began teaching Spanish and Russian to secondary pupils at Shawlands Academy. The following summer Morag qualified as a doctor and worked at the Victoria Infirmary nearby, where my father was still the hospital’s chaplain.
I attended the Stewart Street Police Office monthly on the south side of the city for eighteen months. Thereafter a visit was required every two months and after a further six months, my requirement to report was terminated. In some ways, I enjoyed my visits. I got to know several police officers and found them to be polite and charming, despite seeing them arrive with men in handcuffs swearing like the proverbial troopers. Over the years, no retribution from the Russians came my way and I sometimes mentioned becoming Robert Harvie again but Morag was quite adamant we stayed as we were.
‘I’m not changing my name again and nor should you. It’s safer this way, for both of us.’
By then we were married and our first baby was on the way. That would be another issue—one day we would have to explain to our child why my surname was not the same as my father’s. But children adapt to life’s strangeness more easily than we do. I knew that one day my past would have to be shared with the next generation, and I hoped that by then Russia might be a more responsible nation. But I had my doubts.
Two years later I decided to write about my experience. Let me share the first page of the first chapter with you.
Chapter 1
Jura 1967
Have you ever been to the island of Jura? Not many people have. If you are a whisky connoisseur you possibly toured the island’s distillery to taste Isle of Jura single malt. Perhaps you were a climber assaulting the famous Paps of Jura, or a sailor assessing the treacherous cauldron of the Corryvreckan whirlpool from the safety of land. Maybe you needed to imbibe the presence of George Orwell (aka Eric Blair) who completed Nineteen Eighty-Four at Barnhill on the north of the island. That’s about all you can do on Jura, which is why not many go there. That however may be its attraction.
I was there during the Cold War years and there my spying career took roots. I was on a family holiday in July 1967. In the third week my life changed forever. ....
The End
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Web Site:
Caught in a Cold War Trap
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