The Paris Affair

27 Lisette

27

Lisette

August, 1942 – Normandy

Christoph’s eyes were closed. Sunshine covered him in a bronze haze. Lisette could still feel the burn of his arm around her waist. When they had climbed out of the pond, Lisette knew without even glancing at him that it was all he could do not to touch her. His restraint sparked up a tiny, exquisite flame inside her that she’d never experienced before.

With Johnny, it had been the opposite. Growing up together in the red-brick street, they’d known everything about each other. It seemed only natural that they should kiss, and later make love and, not long after that, get engaged. It was only after he died that Lisette wondered, in the long, wretched nights, if they had really desired each other, or if it had all been too inevitable.

Christoph, however, upset her equilibrium. Differences so deep she’d thought they were etched in stone had blurred. Sitting beside him now, she felt unlike herself. Woodpigeons cooed in the trees. A breeze whispered through the grass and made her shiver.

Whatever existed between her and Christoph – and she was thankful it was only a whisper – she couldn’t let it affect things. She was here for a reason. Seraphin had given her instructions. She had a duty to her country.

‘Meet Marie at the old mill near the farm. She’s a member of the local resistance,’ he’d said, when they’d met in the café the day before. ‘The drop-off is at one in the morning. Bring back a package for me. Tinned tomatoes. Understand?’

She’d nodded, relieved to have a mission to concentrate on.

That evening, Christoph went with the farmer to see his fields. Lisette laid out the plucked chicken and the wild sorrel she’d picked on the way back. She thumbed through the pages of her recipe book until she found the one she was looking for. Brath?hnchen. One of her grandmother’s favourites.

The ritual of preparing the chicken worked its magic and calmed Lisette’s nerves. There was no lemon thyme available so she chopped a little extra of the sorrel. Cooking always had this effect. She heard her grandmother’s voice speaking the instructions. Loosen the chicken skin and rub some of the herb and butter mixture under it.

While the chicken cooked, Lisette slipped the paring knife into her pocket. It would come in handy for the drop-off early tomorrow morning. She’d need something to open the tomato tin and extract whatever it was that her superiors in London had hidden inside.

‘That smells delicious,’ Christoph said when he returned. His presence upset the balance. The room became charged with possibilities.

‘Why do you have to inspect what they’re growing?’ Lisette said. Her tone was conversational, but she knew Seraphin would want to know.

Christoph uncorked a bottle of white wine and filled two glasses. ‘French farms aren’t productive enough for the Reich. At least, that’s what those in authority say.’

‘They’ve always made enough for the French,’ Lisette said firmly.

‘I know,’ Christoph said. Lisette detected the strain in his voice. ‘It’s wrong that all this food should be plundered from France and taken to Germany.’

He was more sensitive than other Germans she’d come across, at Maxim’s and in Le Meurice, who didn’t think twice about taking French food. But still, it was impossible to ignore that he was here in Normandy to facilitate the removal of produce that could go to feed the hungry in France. ‘Yet, still it’s happening,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Christoph said. ‘In fact, General Winkler, Head of the Production and Supplies Division, is arriving soon, the Kommandant told me. No doubt he’ll want to discuss it all. There’s to be a special dinner when he arrives.’

‘What will he discuss?’ Lisette asked lightly.

‘I’m not sure of the details, but overall production issues, I expect,’ Christoph said. ‘The Kommandant says that certain crops are said to be of “first importance”. The army needs more oilseed to replace fuel that we can no longer get from North Africa. Instead of wheat waving in the fields, Hitler wants to see sunflowers.’

‘Sunflowers?’ Lisette said. ‘Such happy flowers. I can’t imagine them being used for war.’

‘No, but they grow quickly. I persuaded the farmer to plant more of his fields with sunflowers. There will be hectares of yellow dancing in the breeze.’

Lisette shuddered at the thought. Here she was, in the company of a man who had just convinced – or, more accurately ordered – a French farmer to grow produce that would aid the enemy’s war effort. She got up and went to the cupboard to get a candle, hiding the anguish on her face.

Lisette lit the candle and placed it on the table, forcing a smile. ‘See, I was right. You had no need of a translator.’

It had grown dark outside, and the candle gathered the room around them, drawing them closer.

‘I’m sorry, I can see you’re upset. I wish I didn’t have to follow orders, but if I deviate from what’s expected, the Kommandant will know. It could affect my family.’

‘I know,’ Lisette said. She understood the bind he was in.

‘This meal is delicious,’ Christoph said, clearly making an effort to lighten the mood. ‘You’re a remarkable cook. Being here with you, talking like this …’

His eyes shone in the candlelight and he looked straight at her. Heat rushed through her body. It came from some unthinking, heedless part of herself. She took a gulp of wine.

‘Tell me about your fiancée,’ she said.

The word ‘fiancée’ fell like cold water and took the shine out of his eyes.

‘Better not,’ Christoph said. ‘It doesn’t put me in a good light.’

Lisette almost regretted asking. He looked so sorrowful. But it had cooled the unexpected desire she’d felt between them, so she persevered.

‘Why not?’

Christoph rested his knife and fork on his plate.

‘Because I made a promise in haste rather than in love, and that’s never a good thing. It’s not her fault. Hilde is simply herself and, in some ways, that’s comforting.’ He sighed. ‘I wonder if I’d have asked her to marry me if it hadn’t been for the war …’

He gazed at her, leaving the words unsaid. Lisette read his mind, the suggestion he was making. This task she’d been given was turning into more than just seduction. She felt as if they were hovering on the edge of something far deeper. Flustered, she picked up the dish of left-over chicken.

‘I’ll take the rest of this to the farmer’s wife,’ she said. ‘She might rethink her bad opinion of me.’

Outside, night was falling. Lisette leaned against the cold stone of the cottage wall. This trip was even harder than she’d thought.

The farmer’s wife softened a little at the sight of Lisette and the Brath?hnchen. She didn’t invite Lisette into the house but gave her a brief nod of thanks. Through the open door, Lisette saw a couple of dogs and the children by the fire. Satisfied that nothing here would impede her mission in the early hours of the next morning, she parted from the farmer’s wife with a smile.

Christoph insisted on sleeping in the camp bed. Lisette took her suitcase and went behind the sheet, pretending to change. She sat down on the bed and listened while he moved around the room, clearing up the table, shaking out the bedding. Would he ever settle down? She couldn’t leave until he was sound asleep.

Eventually, she heard the clunk of his belt buckle on the floor. Lisette held her breath. The camp bed creaked as he got into it.

‘Good night, Sylvie,’ he said.

‘ Bonne nuit ,’ she replied.

Lisette looked up at the eaves crisscrossing the ceiling. Were Christoph’s eyes open? Her whole body tensed at the thought of him just a stone’s throw away. It became so unbearable that she nearly said his name just to break the silence. Then she heard a soft snuffle that deepened into a snore. Thank God. He’d fallen asleep.

His deep breathing became regular. The darkness thickened. Slowly, Lisette stood up. Christoph didn’t stir as she tiptoed past him and out of the cottage.

It was strange to be out at night in the empty yard. The missions in Paris were done in daylight, in the hustle and bustle of the city. If anyone saw her out and about at this time of night, it would immediately raise suspicions.

The farmhouse shutters were closed. The dogs whined. Lisette licked her finger and tested the direction of the wind. Thankfully, it was blowing away from the house, so hopefully the dogs wouldn’t pick up her scent.

She found the path through the woods. The moon shone, giving enough light to see by. Boughs creaked overhead. At night, she’d be safer out in the open. SOE training had taught her that: less chance of ambush. But there was no other way to the mill.

She reached the pond. Only that afternoon, she’d sat here with Christoph. An owl hooted in the abandoned rafters of the mill. Lisette stayed in the shadows close to the wall. The minutes ticked by. Then, from behind the mill, a flurry of pigeon wings.

A few metres away, a female voice whispered. ‘Are you here to see the bats?’

‘ Oui ,’ Lisette replied, remembering the phrase Seraphin had given her. ‘And the other nocturnal creatures.’

A young girl, twenty perhaps, came out of the shadows. She wore black trousers and a brown workman’s jacket. Her hair was tied back in a scarf and she carried a rucksack on her back.

‘I’m Marie,’ she said, with a brief smile.

She handed Lisette a spade, put her fingers to her lips, then pointed away from the millpond. Lisette gripped the rough handle and followed her through the trees.

Lisette had been trained in Scotland for drop-offs. How to use lights to make a temporary runway. The necessity of speed and caution. But this was the first time she’d done it outside of practice. She’d be relying on Marie’s local knowledge.

After a mile or so of walking in silence through the forest, they came to a vast clearing. Lisette assessed the area. The ground was soft, which meant the parachutes could easily be buried, and the trees were far enough away to enable the plane to see their lights.

‘Well done,’ she said to Marie. ‘This is an excellent spot.’

‘Let’s get the flashlights in place,’ Marie said. ‘The plane will be here soon.’

Marie and Lisette pressed the lights into the ground: Three white lights in line, 100 metres between each light , as the SOE handbook instructed. Then they ran back into the cover of the trees to wait.

‘How many times have you done this?’ Lisette whispered.

‘Three or four. Once for an agent drop-off, the rest for supplies,’ Marie said. ‘I used to play in these woods as a child: I know every inch. My brothers are prisoners of war in Germany. I wanted to do something to help.’ She glanced at Lisette. ‘And you?’

‘Apart from when I was parachuted into France, this is my first time at a drop-off. I’ve been in Paris.’

Marie shook her head. ‘I prefer the countryside. There are more places to hide. The Boche can’t cover a vast forest like this.’

Lisette thought of Le Meurice. ‘In Paris, we hide in plain sight. It doesn’t matter where we fight, so long as we resist.’

Marie nodded. ‘On this we can agree.’

Up above, an engine hummed. This was the most dangerous part. Lisette knew the noise of the engine would attract attention. They had to get the delivery as soon as it landed and disappear before anyone could trace their position.

Marie flashed a recognition signal. Up ahead, the aircraft whirred, low enough for them to make out the open door, from which a light flashed in answer.

‘Get ready,’ Lisette said.

Just visible in the moonlight, a small parachute on which a canister was suspended fluttered down. It landed with a muted thud on the earth. Then another came, wide of the mark. The wind picked up and blew it towards the woods, where it got tangled in the trees.

The plane circled, then headed away.

‘I’ll get the parachute and the canister from the tree,’ Marie said. ‘You kill the lights and get the other one.’ She threw her rucksack down at the bottom of the tree and climbed up the branches.

Lisette switched off the flashlights, then cut the strings of the parachute with the knife and folded it up into a bundle. Using the spade, she buried the parachute in the soft earth, and took the canister and flashlights back into the safety of the woods. She stowed the lights in the undergrowth. Inside the canister, she found the tin of tomatoes Seraphin had spoken of. She stuffed it into her pocket.

‘Marie,’ she whispered, venturing over to the tree. ‘Have you got it?’

‘Nearly. Stay hidden and keep watch.’

Lisette pressed herself against the tree trunk. Far in the distance, a light caught Lisette’s eye. A dog barked. German voices carried on the wind.

‘Soldiers are coming,’ Lisette said urgently.

‘I’m not leaving without the supplies,’ Marie whispered from high up in the branches.

Flashlights bobbed through the trees. Lisette guessed there were two soldiers, but they’d be armed. Time was running out.

‘Leave the canister and come now.’ She couldn’t see Marie, but she heard the rustling of branches.

‘It’s nearly free. Don’t worry about me, just go.’

‘No. I’m not leaving you.’

The dogs barked, louder this time. They were getting nearer. Adrenalin sped through Lisette’s body. There would be no explaining this away. Right now, they were sitting ducks.

‘My foot’s tangled in the damn string,’ Marie whispered.

The dogs whined. Had they picked up a scent? Lisette remembered her SOE training: Help the arrested agent to escape only if it can be done without prejudicing the security of the organization.

Sod that, Lisette thought, heaving herself into the branches. I’m not going without her. She found Marie halfway up the tree. With a swift movement, she sliced through the parachute strings with her knife, freeing Marie’s leg. ‘Down, now, and run for it.’

They jumped down and ran through the trees, away from the clearing, branches whipping their faces. One of the soldiers gave a shout. Seconds later, a shot fired. Lisette ducked but, beside her, Marie fell to the ground with a cry. She’d been hit.

Another shot rang out. Marie cried out in pain. Lisette crouched down. God, she’d been struck in the neck. Blood gushed from the wound. Marie pushed her away. ‘You have to go,’ she gasped.

Lisette hesitated. She could take on one soldier perhaps, but not two that were armed. The mission had been to collect the package for Seraphin. She had that in her pocket. Above all else now, she had to keep it safe, but not at Marie’s expense.

‘Take my hand,’ Lisette implored.

Marie shook her head. ‘I beg you, go now,’ she cried, ‘or it’ll have all been in vain.’

Lisette stared into Marie’s eyes for a moment. She was clearly in pain, unable to run. Her face was very pale with the loss of blood. ‘I can’t abandon you.’

Marie cupped Lisette’s face. ‘I won’t survive this. I want you to escape and keep fighting for France.’ She winced in pain. ‘Give me your tablet. I know you have one. Let me finish this now before they can torture me.’

Lisette nodded, unable to bear the truth of what Marie was saying. She was too young to be dying like this, but to let her fall into the hands of the Germans and have her pain prolonged was unthinkable. Lisette cut the hem of her skirt with the knife and placed the rubber-coated cyanide pill in Marie’s hand.

‘Run,’ Marie said, putting it into her mouth and biting hard.

The soldiers were nearly upon them. Lisette’s SOE training kicked in and she tore herself away and ran. She fled through the trees, Marie’s words ringing in her ears, and stopped only when she reached the millpond.

Lisette gasped, trying to catch her breath, blood thumping in her ears. As far as she could tell, no one had followed her. Her stomach churned as her mind relived the anguish of the last few moments.

There was no time to dwell on it now. She had to work quickly. Lisette gouged open the tomato tin with the knife. Peeling back the jagged metal, she found a small vial inside and stuffed it into her pocket. She threw the tin and the knife into the millpond and made her way back along the path, her body trembling with shock and fear.

The farm was just as she’d left it: silent and sleeping. She crept in, the wood making a faint creak as she trod, and stole back through to the half of the room where Christoph lay sleeping.

Her hands shook as she changed into her nightdress. She buried the vial at the bottom of her suitcase. Christoph’s breathing remained steady.

Terrible images flashed through Lisette’s head: Marie’s screams, the shots, the sickening feeling of being unable to help her, the terrible finality of the pill. It was horrific, all of it – those soldiers were barbarians, no better than dogs themselves. Lisette choked back a sob, but another came, just as fierce.

‘Sylvie?’ Christoph whispered. ‘Are you all right?’

In that moment, the accent of his voice linked him to the soldiers. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, through gritted teeth.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, go back to sleep,’ She gripped the sheets with her fists.

But she heard him get up and walk over. He pulled the sheet aside. In the moonlight that glowed through the curtains, she saw his chest was bare, the pyjama trousers gathered close around his hips.

‘What happened?’ he whispered. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’

The whole war was a nightmare: all the losses, the sacrifices. But what had happened to Marie was not a dream. The fear and terror in her eyes had been real. Lisette couldn’t hold the anguish back. She began to cry – anger and sorrow mixed together.

Christoph came over and sat down on the bed next to her. Lisette drew back. ‘Don’t come near me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘What have I done?’

‘I can’t bear it any more,’ Lisette said, her breath ragged, her words coming out between sobs. ‘I hate this war. I hate what you’re all doing to this country. Those I’ve loved are gone, and for what? They’re dead, Christoph. Nothing will ever bring them back.’

Christoph stared at her, pain in his eyes. ‘Oh, Sylvie.’

‘I know you feel differently to other German soldiers, you show compassion and kindness and hate it too, but that’s just words. Those sunflowers aren’t just crops. They’re fuel for planes and tanks and more killing.’ Lisette buried her head in her hands.

Christoph sighed. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘What I’ve done today is wrong. I fool myself that it’s just farming, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s people’s lives.’

‘It’s worse than that,’ Lisette cried. ‘Do you know what they’re doing? There is a death camp in Poland, killing thousands of Jews, every minute, every hour, even as we speak. So many people are dying, Christoph.’

Christoph nodded. ‘It’s unspeakable, shameful, inhuman …’ He struggled to find the words. ‘I hate what my country is doing, Sylvie. You must believe me.’

‘Do you?’ Lisette said.

‘Yes,’ Christoph said desperately. ‘I abhor this discrimination on the basis of race, sexuality or mental or physical disability. My sister is one of them, remember, an “idiot” whose life is deemed unworthy. Even before the war started, there were enforced sterilization and euthanasia killings in Germany of the mentally ill and others. I hate it as much as you do.’

Lisette nodded, sensing his torment, but what did it count for? The gulf between his role in the war and hers couldn’t have been greater. Until this moment, Christoph had been asleep in his bed while Lisette and Marie had been out in the woods.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Christoph said, desperation in his voice. ‘Maybe I can reduce the farmer’s quota of sunflowers and we could bring some food back with us to distribute.’

‘No. That would put you in danger. There’s nothing you can do. That’s the worst thing about it all.’

‘The worst thing is seeing you in such pain and not being able to take you in my arms,’ he said softly.

Lisette drew in her breath. In the tenderness of his voice lay the crux of her torment. She could hardly bear the truth of it. At this very moment when she felt such rage and despair against the Germans for what they’d done – to her grandparents, Johnny, Hélène, Marie, to everyone in this war – she longed for Christoph, of all people, to comfort her.

He was so close she felt the warmth emanate from his skin. Every muscle in her body ached to feel his arms around her, to lose herself in the safe harbour of his embrace.

‘Sylvie …’ He gently touched her chin and lifted her head up to meet his eyes. The depth and connection that met her gaze took her breath away. ‘I know that I am everything you hate, everything you despise, and that I shouldn’t have brought you here. But, despite how impossible it all is, I’m falling in love with you.’

Lisette struggled to fight the desire welling inside. ‘Please, just hold me,’ she said, her fingers trembling, not daring to acknowledge what he’d just said.

Christoph pulled her close. Something stirred within her: molten, burning, urgent. His hand slid down her back, leaving a trail of heat. His eyes were hungry, full of need, a need she shared.

In that moment, she was neither Lisette nor Sylvie. She was nameless, lost in longing and hoping to forget the horrors of the woods.

At the first touch of his lips Lisette gasped with the exhilaration of being close to him, her skin burning, their tongues entwined.

There was no more pretending, no more waiting. He was here. He pressed against her, his chest hard and firm, his hands slipping under her nightdress. She moved closer, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

He paused just inches from her face, and looked into her eyes. ‘If you don’t want this, Sylvie,’ he said. ‘Just tell me.’

Of course she wanted it. Every fibre of her being craved him. But at his words, her doubt and the horror of the night flooded back.

‘No, not like this,’ she said.

She summoned all her strength and pulled away. This was madness, driven by her need to obliterate the memory of what had happened to Marie. Nothing else. Seraphin had told her not to lose her heart. Christoph was part of a mission. That was all. If she gave herself to him, it had to be as an agent, carrying out a task. Not as a woman overcome by desire.

‘I’m sorry,’ Christoph said. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

Lisette straightened her nightdress and took a deep breath. ‘It’s not your fault. Just forget it.’

Christoph stood up, his face flushed. ‘Sleep well, then. No more bad dreams.’

Christoph went back into the shadows, his bare feet padding over the floor to the camp bed. Lisette lay down and pulled the covers over her, trying erase the thought of him from her mind.

Something had happened tonight. Some line had been crossed. But as her eyelids sealed shut and sleep overcame her, Lisette had no idea if the step they’d taken would be irrevocable or simply a dream that would fade and be gone by morning.