Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
L izzie's hands stung from the cold as she descended to the basement to spend another night in the bowels of the old farmhouse. This time, she would be alone. If someone came to search the place, she wouldn’t be caught sleeping in the bedroom like a sitting duck. She ran back upstairs and grabbed one of Hannah’s guns from the secret compartment beneath the big old sink. The house was deathly quiet, and she went to pull another blanket off her bed. It seemed to get ever colder, but perhaps she was just tired. It had been an intense couple of days, and her body throbbed and ached all over from the fall off the bicycle. She needed sleep if she was to be any use to anyone tomorrow.
When she awoke to the insistent chirping of birds, she listened carefully for noises in the house. All was quiet until The Count of Monte Cristo toppled off her stomach and crashed to the floor, making her heart pound.
Hesitantly, she opened the secret hatch and stepped out of the damp basement. She’d slept reasonably well, cocooned between a pile of blankets to cushion her body and keep out the chill .
Lizzie checked if Hannah had slipped into her bedroom during the night, but the covers on her bed lay untouched. She went downstairs to the kitchen as first light broke, seeping through the blackout blinds in delicate shards and drawing shapes on the walls. She’d made it through another night in occupied territory. That was the first night she’d spent alone on a mission. Even when things went awry when she was a new agent, the owner of the safe house kept her company.
She sat in silence, contemplating her options as she drank the warm coffee. Lizzie knew what she should do, but it was too early to leave without attracting unnecessary attention. More attention was not what the network needed.
The coffee cup was nursed in her hands, and the heat on her skin and the gentle chatter of the birds in the garden cheered her. Then she remembered the raven from the previous night, staring at her from the tree opposite the attic window. She told herself she was being fanciful, thinking the black bird had anything to do with Jack watching over her, but its musical call had comforted her, nonetheless.
Thinking of Jack transported her back to London, and she wondered what he was doing at this moment. He was an early riser, and he might be drinking coffee and thinking of her too. If only she could pick up the telephone and dial his number at home. What she wouldn’t do to hear his rich deep voice say her name in that special way that was like a caress. Her eyes strayed to the telephone on the wall, but even if the line was in service, which it wasn’t, she couldn’t call London. That would be signing her own death warrant.
Lizzie pulled a blanket up to her nose, the bitter cold filtering through her nightdress. As she rested her head against the sofa, Jack’s face loomed in her mind, and she was swept back to that morning when he surprised her by calling her at home, which was not something he usually did unless it was an emergency.
Christmas fell on a crisp, snowy day and Lizzie was in the kitchen helping her mother make some strange concoction that would have to pass for mince pies. Her mother said it was the best they could do with the ingredients available, but they should at least attempt to have some festive foods.
Lizzie loved cooking with her mother, and as they buzzed about the kitchen, the radio played Christmas carols, interjected with news about current events. Rose was particularly happy because Archie was on leave for a few days over the holiday. They hadn’t seen Lizzie’s older brother Archie for months and her mother could not stop the tears when he appeared at the door, beaming at them just like the old Archie they knew and loved.
Archie was in the front drawing room overlooking the beautiful snow-white park, playing cards with their sisters, and her father glanced at them occasionally from his chair by the fire, as he flicked through the newspaper.
‘They’re ready to go in,’ Rose said, when Lizzie finished laying the decorative holly shaped pastry pieces on the mince pie tops and she popped the tray into the oven. Violet, their wonderful housekeeper, had gone to her sister’s for the day, and it was rare for just Lizzie and her mother to be working in the kitchen together. Lizzie hummed quietly as she tidied.
The phone shrilled several times, and no one went to answer it, so she dusted her floury hands onto her apron and hurried into the hallway. ‘Marylebone 482,’ she said, wondering who was calling on Christmas Day. Jack’s deep voice echoed over the line, and she smiled.
‘Darling. How fortunate you answered. I want to wish you Happy Christmas,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, aware that everyone could hear her side of the conversation .
‘Are you surrounded?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes, something like that. Have a wonderful Christmas, Val,’ Lizzie said. ‘Do you need me tomorrow?’
Jack’s familiar voice rippled over the line, causing goosebumps to erupt on her flesh. ‘Oh yes, I most definitely need you tomorrow, Seagrove. Another day without you will be a torrid way to spend Christmas.’
‘Very well, I shall report for duty first thing.’
‘Report for duty at my flat and let’s celebrate our Christmas tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I miss you too much when you’re away.’
Lizzie laughed at him saying she was away when she was only at her parents’ house. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said guardedly, as her mother crossed through to the drawing room to tell the others when lunch would be served. ‘I’d better go now. See you tomorrow. Have a lovely time at your mother’s.’
‘Thank you, I’m leaving soon.’
‘Bye, then,’ she said, wishing she could declare on Christmas Day how madly she loved him. Lizzie had learnt that secret love affairs were painful, because you couldn’t express your true feelings and had to pretend the person you loved was just another colleague.
She was about to ring off, thrilled he’d called her, but sad that they couldn’t be together on this special day. How wonderful it would be if he could walk over after lunch and join them for a festive afternoon tea.
‘Darling,’ he said, still hanging on the phone. ‘I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Come as early as you can.’
Lizzie said she would, her stomach fizzing at his passionate declaration as she replaced the receiver on the cradle and followed her mother into the drawing room.
‘Work?’ her father asked pointedly .
She nodded. ‘Yes, just Val. I need to go into the office tomorrow.’
Her mother exclaimed, ‘Oh, what a shame. I thought we’d at least have Boxing Day together as well, whilst Archie’s home.’
‘I know Ma, but it’ll give you a chance to mollycoddle him all the more,’ she laughed, winking at her older brother.
Rose replied, ‘The war doesn’t stop for Christmas, I suppose. We’re fortunate to have this one special day together. Let’s hope the Jerries are taking it easy today and we get to eat lunch without an air raid.’
Lizzie looked around at her family. It was unusual to see them together these days, and their life in Jersey seemed more and more like a nostalgic childhood memory.
‘I have good news,’ Pa said, laying his newspaper to one side on the small table. Lizzie looked at him expectantly. ‘Hold on, I must check our pies, so they don’t burn.’
When she bustled back into the drawing room, they were all waiting impatiently for her return. ‘Go on, what is this good news? We could certainly do with some.’
‘It’s about Jersey,’ Reginald said, as if he had read her mind earlier.
‘Oh, tell us, Reg,’ begged Rose, removing imaginary fluff from the sleeve of her dress as she waited. ‘What news?’
‘After Christmas, we can send a note to Nan and Pops through the Red Cross Message Service.’
The memory of that lovely Christmas day faded from her mind. The dregs of seedy coffee in her cup had lost their heat, and Lizzie swallowed the last of it and grimaced. It was time to get dressed and brave the city to look for Philippe. She was counting on him to help her find Hannah .
Unless Philippe had been arrested too. Then she would be completely alone in Paris.