Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
‘ T he mission is confirmed for the end of next week,’ Jack said with a sense of finality in his tone, the following morning in the office.
Lizzie stared at him, speechless, whilst she digested the reality of a new mission looming. She gulped. ‘What will I tell my family?’
‘We will create a cover story today so you can prepare them. It shouldn’t be too difficult now they know you’re in the FANYs. They travel quite a bit and work in various roles.’
‘I’d better warn you; my mother isn’t easily fooled. We’ll need something watertight,’ Lizzie said. ‘They’re still teasing me about being in love with Captain King, you know.’
‘Your mother is delightful. Perhaps I’ll pop in for tea and cake again when you return,’ he teased.
Lizzie knew he was trying to keep it light. They were both only too aware of the dangers and the fact was she might not return.
‘I’m glad your family approves. When this war is over, I hope they’ll be seeing a lot more of me,’ Jack said.
Lizzie was relieved he was back to showing his usual good-natured resilience. It unnerved her when he lost confidence in what they were doing. When he was strong, it helped her stay strong.
‘I’m sure there’s nothing they’d like more. My mother even said our age difference could be a positive thing. Although, my father wasn’t so keen.’ Lizzie laughed.
‘Well, fathers and daughters. I would expect no less,’ Jack quipped.
‘Anyhow, we’ve got a lot to cover, so shall we get started before Val tears you away for one of her projects?’
Lizzie nodded, apprehension rising in her stomach. ‘Yes, let’s do it. What do you need from me?’ She reached out and touched the fine layer of dark stubble on his chin.
‘I was thinking about the radio operator situation, and how it will be more secure if we set you up with your own codes, rather than using the same as Hannah’s.’
‘That makes sense,’ Lizzie said.
‘You’ll need a book. One-time pads won’t be suitable for this.’
‘How long do you think I’ll be there?’
Jack released a heavy sigh. ‘Honestly, I wish I knew. Hannah wants backup so she can go undercover, which doesn’t sound like it will be a short mission. From what she’s said in her messages, it seems she’s intending to infiltrate the organisation for as long as she can.’
‘I’m concerned my mother will worry if I’m gone too long.’
‘I’ll be worried if you’re gone too long!’ Jack said. ‘Trust me, I will do everything in my power to make this as short as it can possibly be.’
‘At least my father knows the truth, or some semblance of it, anyway. I suppose I’m not permitted to let him in on any of the details of this mission?’
‘Correct,’ Jack said. ‘I know it’s difficult to keep secrets from our loved ones like this, but it’s for the best for everyone’s safety. Your father understands that better than most. He won’t ask tough questions.’
‘Yes, of course. And there’s the minor fact that if I tell anyone, I’ll be breaking the Official Secrets Act.’
‘There is that,’ Jack said wryly, pulling a cigarette from the packet in his breast pocket.
‘May I have one?’ Lizzie said.
Jack’s hand paused mid-air, the cigarette not having reached his lips yet. ‘One of these?’ he asked, clearly astonished by her request.
Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes. You were right when you said I should learn to smoke. It’s a good distraction prop, not to mention a brilliant way of naturally getting into conversation with people.’
‘I won’t argue with that, although I’m not sure you’ll enjoy it,’ he said, smirking.
‘I doubt I will enjoy it, but that’s hardly the point, is it? After all, I don’t enjoy flinging myself out of a plane in the dead of night, but I still do it when you tell me to.’
Jack’s laughter echoed around the cold, quiet room. ‘My goodness, you are brilliant, Seagrove. I don’t know where you got this attitude of yours, but it’s priceless. As much as I’d like to keep you safe at home, you were clearly born for this. Without people like you, nothing in this mad world of ours would move.’
Lizzie’s face shone. ‘Thank you, Captain. That means a lot coming from you. Now show me how to light this cigarette so I can get the hang of smoking.’
‘Let’s start you off slow. I’ll light this one for you, and you can take a few puffs. Like this, you see.’ Jack demonstrated with his cigarette.
‘Do I have to inhale like that?’ she said, narrowing her eyes .
‘Only if you want people to believe you’re a real smoker,’ he said.
Lizzie followed his example and spluttered and coughed after her first puff.
‘It takes a bit of practice.’
‘But it tastes like old socks! Why would people do this to themselves?’
‘Tasted many old socks, have you?’ Jack teased.
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, dissolving into laughter.
‘I do. Like I say, it takes a bit of practice and it’s also something of an acquired taste, but no self-respecting secret agent doesn’t know how to smoke!’
‘I’m not a real secret agent like you, though.’
‘Yes, you are, Seagrove, and it’s about time you got used to the idea.’
Lizzie tried another puff and spluttered again, flapping her hand in front of her face to waft the curtain of smoke away.
‘This is really awful,’ she said, and her expression made Jack laugh out loud again.
‘Let’s give it another go tomorrow, shall we?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘I think I’ve had enough for one day. I’m not sure I’m a natural born smoker.’
‘I’ll give you some tips tomorrow. Now would you like a coffee?’
‘Yes, please. I need something to get rid of that dreadful taste in my mouth. It’s quite foul!’
When Jack returned with their cups of coffee, they started planning her cover story.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ he said. ‘How about we say your translation services are needed to support French veterans? There are lots of the poor buggers stuck here after Dunkirk. They were evacuated with our boys and many of them are in a terrible way from what I hear. Lost limbs and will never walk again, but even worse is their mental state. They’re suffering from what used to be called shell shock. They call it battle fatigue now. The wounded soldiers are distraught, in poor health and many don’t know what’s become of their families in France since they surrendered. They’re all alone here.’
‘Oh, my goodness, that’s so sad,’ Lizzie said. ‘I didn’t know, but of course they wouldn’t go back to France now even if they were physically able.’
‘They’d be deported to a camp in Germany, or worse. And unless they fully recover, they won’t fight again.’
‘It sounds awful. Poor men. They must feel utterly lost.’
‘It’s just one of the horrendous outcomes of this war. There are displaced people all over Europe.’
‘Where are these French veterans?’
‘It would make sense to say you’re working in a nursing home. It would be in a country house somewhere. It must be far enough away that your family won’t pop over to see you, but feasible in that the veterans wouldn’t be housed in the flight path of the bombing raids.’
‘What would I translate?’
‘Some soldiers have a poor grasp of English, and they need support in French for rehabilitation. Filling in papers, making sure they understand what they’re doing and what’s happening with their health, that kind of thing.’
Lizzie nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘What did I say?’
‘It’s not you. It sounds silly, but I actually want to go and help them. For a minute, I forgot this is only a fake job.’
Jack put his arms around Lizzie. ‘You are quite the loveliest. It’s not silly at all.’
Lizzie wiped her eyes on her cuff, and Jack produced a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her with a flourish .
‘Thank you,’ she said, sniffing and dabbing her eyes. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Life can be so sad, it gets to you after a while, doesn’t it?’
‘It does indeed. I try not to think about the dark side of war too much, and just stay focused on the things we can do, but it’s not always as simple as that.’
‘Do the French veterans have people to help them with those things you mentioned?’
Jack’s face softened, and Lizzie saw the compassion shining in his dark eyes. ‘Yes, of course they do, darling. They are the ones who were rescued at Dunkirk, so I’m sure they count their lucky stars they’re not rotting in a prison or labour camp.’
Lizzie’s eyes brightened and her sadness lifted. ‘Where will I say this nursing home is, then? I’d like to tell my family this evening if I can, so they have time to get used to the idea of me leaving again. They’ve been through a lot.’
Jack stood and walked over to the wall and pointed to the large map. ‘Here, tell them you’ll be based in a lovely old rambling country house in Oxfordshire, on the outskirts of Henley-on-Thames.’
‘Has the army requisitioned it?’ Lizzie asked, feeling her way into the cover story.
Jack nodded. ‘Say you can’t give them details as it’s safer to keep the exact location a secret, but you’ll write to them whilst you’re away.’
‘It sounds almost like a holiday. I sort of wish I was really going.’
‘Henley-on-Thames is a beautiful town. I promise I’ll take you when this is all over.’
‘You have a lot of promises to keep, Raven. You said we’ll go to France when the war is over too.’
‘I intend to keep all my promises, so you can look forward to lots of trips in the future. ’
Lizzie beamed up at him. ‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said.
‘I’ll miss you too. Let’s not think about it now. We have until the end of next week together, so let’s make the most of it. In fact, let’s take a walk now. It’s work related, but I think you will love it.’
Lizzie and Jack strode at a fast pace along Baker Street, Lizzie doing her best to keep up with him, and Jack slowing as he remembered how fast he moved.
As they walked, they turned heads, both dashing in their smart uniforms.
Lizzie noticed how many admiring glances rested on Jack as they walked, and a little thrill surged in her chest as she thought how lucky she was that he was hers.
‘Where are we going?’ she said, her breath steaming in front of her face in the cold air.
‘You’ll see soon enough. It’s a surprise.’
Jack came to an abrupt stop in front of a tall building on Cavendish Street. ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘I told you it wasn’t far.’
‘The library,’ Lizzie squealed. ‘What fun! I haven’t been in a library since I came to London.’
‘Then this is your chance,’ Jack said, enjoying Lizzie’s enthusiasm.
They wandered around the shelves stacked high with books.
‘Choose one,’ Jack said when they reached the French language section.
Lizzie looked puzzled. ‘What genre?’
‘Any book you want, the only caveat is it must be French!’
Understanding dawned in Lizzie’s eyes and she began poring over the shelves. Finally, her fingers reached for the spine of a novel on one of the higher shelves and she stretched to extract it from where it snuggled on the row of books.
‘Here, let me,’ said Jack, standing behind her and pulling the book down so she could fully grasp it.
His proximity affected Lizzie like it always did, and she turned slightly as their bodies touched. She saw the fire in his eyes, and she lay her hand on his arm.
‘Will you come over this evening after work or do you need to go home?’ he said.
‘Of course, I’ll come,’ she said, and they checked a French edition of The Count of Monte Cristo out of the library and headed back to Baker Street, their hands brushing occasionally as they walked side by side.