24 Lisette
July, 1942 –Paris
It was the wine that made her act so boldly, the urge to find out some intelligence that would make a difference to the war. But sabotaging a man’s heart was easier said than done. Lisette wondered if she had the guts to see it through, especially with the memory of Johnny’s proposal still lingering in her mind. It hadn’t happened in Paris, of course, but in Green Park in London. The rain, the song, the bended knee in the mud had all been true, but the location she’d given Christoph was a lie. His kind questions had got her to reveal more than she’d planned, despite still keeping her identity a secret.
Christoph went to find some wine and glasses. While he was gone, Lisette scoured his desk. Maps lay interlaced with papers. Farms had been circled on a map. She caught sight of a telegram, only partly revealed under a book:
Betrieb Lebensmittelzug
Abfahrt 19:00 07. August Orléans nach Paris, Gare de Lyons
Abfahrt 03:00 08. August Paris, Gare de Lyons, nach Koln
The rest was obscured. Lisette swallowed. Here it was. The proof Seraphin had been looking for. Quickly, she memorized the times of the train that would be taking food from Paris to Germany.
She glanced at the door. He’d be back any minute. She walked towards the mantelpiece.
Boot heels clicked in the corridor outside. Firm, commanding: it didn’t sound like Christoph. The door opened, and there stood the Kommandant.
‘I saw a light on. What are you doing in here?’ he asked.
‘Leutnant Baumann has gone to fetch wine glasses.’
The Kommandant glanced at her dress, taking in the curves of her body.
‘Ah,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘You’ve been out to dinner. How much prettier you look dressed as a woman instead of as a chef. I’m glad he was able to make use of my dinner reservation.’
‘It was kind of him to take me, Herr Kommandant.’ A blush crept over her cheeks.
‘Of course, and kind of you to go. Perhaps you will be kind to me also?’
His words slid like butter into a hot pan. Lisette pulled her coat across her chest.
‘Kommandant.’ Christoph returned, two glasses in his hand.
‘It seems you have made a friend at last,’ the Kommandant said. ‘We all need friends in times like these.’
‘Yes, Herr Kommandant.’
‘Enjoy your evening.’ The Kommandant took one last lingering look at Lisette, then closed the door behind him.
Christoph put the glasses down. ‘What did he want?’
‘He saw the light on and came to investigate. For a moment, I thought he was going to have me arrested for snooping.’
Christoph poured the wine. ‘And were you snooping?’ he asked with a smile.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, forcing a laugh.
Christoph smiled. ‘It seems to be the night for unexpected visitors. I came across M. Dupont in the kitchen. Said he was looking for something, a receipt from a supplier.’
Lisette stiffened. That receipt was in Seraphin’s hands now. ‘M. Dupont is a law unto himself,’ she said. ‘Look, perhaps I shouldn’t be here.’
She couldn’t do this. The dinner. The walk home. The Kommandant assuming she was Christoph’s fancy woman. She’d got the information about the train. There was no reason to stay any longer.
‘Don’t go, not yet, There’s something I want to show you.’ He took her hand. ‘If it helps, I have a fiancée back home, so you’re quite safe with me, I promise.’
His eyes were deep black in the half-light, his hand soft against her own. The smell of his cologne filled the air between them. A fiancée. He’d never mentioned her before. His behaviour with Lisette had suggested he was a free man. The fact that he was engaged should have made her feel protected, but she felt both safe and in peril, the two opposing emotions vibrating in her at once.
‘Please. Just come to the roof garden,’ he said. ‘No one will know.’
Lisette followed him upstairs. She couldn’t pinpoint the impulse which had made her say yes, but she hoped it was the draw of more information to take back to Seraphin.
They reached the roof garden, high above Paris. Christoph led her to a conservatory in the centre. Tables and chairs stood stacked in a corner. It smelled musty and neglected. Christoph flung off dust covers and revealed an old upright piano.
‘I come up here sometimes to practise,’ Christoph said, sitting down on the stool. ‘I want you to see that not everything that comes from my country is bad. Some of it is beautiful.’
Lisette pitied him. He wanted to be free of this terrible role that history had assigned to him, but it could never be.
‘I don’t think …’
He was already playing. Something sentimental and sad. She’d heard this piece before. It was beloved by her grandfather, played on his record player during her summer stays in France.
‘The “Moonlight Sonata”,’ she whispered.
Each note was a petal falling. Christoph’s hands rippled over the keys. He possessed an incredible talent.
All too soon, the piece ended and the music died away. Lisette longed to hear it again. Everything had seemed so simple while Christoph was playing.
‘I love that piece,’ she said.
‘Sometimes I imagine what I could have been had this war not started. I hope the opportunities aren’t lost for good.’ He looked bereft, his shoulders hunched.
Lisette wanted to comfort him. It would have been inhumane not to. But the reality was that the war had changed everything.
‘No one is going to come out of this war and go back to being the same person they once were,’ she said. ‘But it’s up to us to make the right choices, to still hold on to what was precious to us. For me, that’s cooking. For you, it’s the piano. You mustn’t let your talent die. Keep practising. Keep believing. Life might take you in a different direction, but if you truly love the piano, then you might find your way back to it.’
‘If you say it, Sylvie, maybe I can believe it.’
He invested her with a power she didn’t possess. Worse still, he trusted her. ‘I wouldn’t set too much store in what I say,’ she said.
He came over and kneeled in front of her.
‘But I do. You make me feel like anything could happen. And it has. I’m up here on the roof playing the “Moonlight Sonata”.’ He laughed, sounding carefree. ‘I’ve been cautious so far, but now I feel reckless.’ He took hold of her hands. ‘Come with me to the farm in Normandy. I know you’d love to see the countryside again. La Ferme Villiers-le-Bacle. It’s not far from Rouen, surrounded by woodland. I’ll say you’re my translator, or assistant, or whatever. But please, come.’
His cheeks were flushed. The idea was unthinkable. She’d be alone with him. Far away from here.
‘The Kommandant would never allow it,’ she said.
‘He won’t know. He’s off to a conference in Vichy. We won’t leave until he’s gone.’
‘And what about M. Dupont and the kitchens?’
‘You’re owed some time off.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, nervously.
‘I’ll arrange separate rooms. There won’t be any impropriety, I promise. I enjoy your company, how you challenge me,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘Please, I don’t usually do this kind of thing, but tonight it just feels right.’
Lisette stared at him. What could she say? She’d played the part of liking him so well, that it had led to this. Perhaps he’d regret this impulsive gesture in the morning. But somehow, looking at his shining eyes, she doubted it. She couldn’t refuse him. Not after she’d led him on this far.
She smoothed the folds of her dress. ‘All right, then.’
She tried to tell herself this would help the resistance, that she could gather more intelligence to bring back to Seraphin. But she knew it was more than that.
Two days later, Lisette met Seraphin in a queue outside the bakery. He stood behind her. Queues were one of the few places where people were permitted to gather.
‘Dinner was productive then?’ Seraphin whispered.
She nodded.
‘And?’ Seraphin said.
‘He hinted that rations are to be reduced,’ she whispered, anxious not to be overheard.
‘I suspected as much,’ Seraphin said. ‘It’s all going east. We’re surrounded by fertile land, but nothing is coming to Paris unless it’s to fill the Nazis’ plates.’
‘He’s involved in monitoring farms. Increasing production. Crop plans,’ Lisette whispered.
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ she said. She’d saved the best piece of information till last. ‘There’s an Essenszug leaving Paris on the eighth of August from Gare de Lyon at 3 a.m., heading to Koln. It will be loaded with produce for Germany.’
‘You’ve done well,’ Seraphin said. ‘Keep that gentleman friend of yours on side, all right? I’ll contact you with further instructions.’
‘He wants me to go with him to inspect a farm in Normandy, La Ferme Villiers-le-Bacle, near Rouen,’ said Lisette. ‘I’ve said yes. It could be an opportunity to learn more, but I wanted to check with you.’
Seraphin nodded. ‘You were right to accept. The closer you get to him, the more he’ll tell you.’
‘I think so. He is quite unguarded in what he says, for a German soldier,’ Lisette whispered. ‘I think the war and the occupation weigh heavily on his conscience.’
‘That’s good,’ Seraphin said. ‘The more cracks, the more opportunities for you to penetrate his secrets. You’re doing well, Lisette. I know maintaining a facade like this is asking a lot of you, but we’re all impressed with how you’re doing.’
‘Thank you.’ Coming from a seasoned agent like Seraphin, that meant a lot.
‘In fact,’ Seraphin whispered, ‘now that I know you’re heading that way, I may have an errand I need you to run while you are there. An important drop-off.’
She was about to reply when two soldiers arrived and started asking the people in the queue for their papers. One man, ahead of them in the line, held his out for inspection, but it was not to their satisfaction. They dragged him, struggling and crying, out of the queue.
The man’s shoes came off as they pulled him along. He cried out in pain as his bare feet bounced over the cobbles. Lisette watched, helpless and disgusted.
‘Whatever it is, I’ll do it,’ she said.