Chapter 26
On The Move
C haudes-Aigues was a beautiful town, well known for its hot water springs. Gaspard had banished us there while we were non-operational. Still, I was relieved to be out of his way. I climbed out of the car. ‘If Denis doesn’t get a shift on, I’ll find him myself.’
Hubert rolled his eyes. The whitewashed farmhouse sat on the outskirts of the town: another place, another Maquis. I took a deep breath in, savouring the fresh scent of pine from nearby trees that drifted on the breeze. The door swung open, revealing a tall, slim man in his mid-forties. With a serious expression etched on his tanned face, he ushered us inside. As he spoke to our driver—one of Gaspard’s men—Hubert strained to listen, looking puzzled. But I understood what they were saying: ‘Useless?’ I’ll show you who’s useless, mate in a minute.’ I scowled at him. ‘Yes, I understood every word, and if you want to be able to fight the Germans and win, you’ll be wise to listen up even if your leader is a great bumbling ox.’
The driver stared at me, drawing himself up to his full height, straightening his shoulders. The buffoon didn’t intimidate me.
The other man rubbed his stubbly chin with his right hand, as if sizing us up, his face relaxing as his mouth curved upwards and his eyes creased. ‘Forgive me, Madame. I am Fournier. Pay no attention to this man. He is an idiot.’
He sent the driver back to Gaspard then called for his wife, requesting coffee and food. My stomach rumbled and groaned as he invited us to sit at the kitchen table. His wife set the coffee pot and cups down. As Fournier poured black coffee, his wife brought bread, ham and cheese. ‘Please, help yourself. You must be hungry after travelling all this way.’
My mouth watered as I made myself a sandwich. The large kitchen was clean and bright. A row of copper pans hung on the wall near a black cooking range. Madame Fournier busied in the background, washing dishes and generally tidying things away. It was clear she preferred to stay in the background while her husband discussed Resistance matters.
Fournier lingered his gaze on me as an amused smile tugged at his mouth. ‘I am surprised London sent a woman. Courier work is dangerous, Madame. Usually, they send men.’
I smiled. ‘You’ll see that I’m as good as any man. Now, can we discuss plans? We’ve been here for almost two weeks and achieved nothing. Gaspard has made it clear he has no wish to cooperate.’
‘Hah! Gaspard would not know a gift horse if it sat on him and pinned him to French soil. The man’s a pompous ass. I cannot stand him. Arrogant and a bully.’
Hubert laughed. ‘If you agree to work with us, London will finance you and your men with money, arms and all the ammunition you need.’
Fournier drained the last of his coffee and set his cup down with a bang. ‘What exactly is it that London wants?’
Madame Fournier had stopped what she was doing, a linen tea cloth in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other as she listened intently.
‘Well, we have certain tasks to carry out, before the Allied invasion,’ Hubert said.
‘Ha! What did I tell you?’ Fournier banged his fist on the table and a huge grin spread across his craggy face as he turned to look at his wife. ‘The Allies are coming, and together, we will beat the Boche. His wife stared, a frown forming on her face. ‘When is it, this invasion?’ His eyes darted from me to Hubert like some wild animal.
‘We can’t tell you that. We don’t know the exact date, only that it’s soon. The bad news is we still don’t have a radio. Our operator parachuted in a few days ago but he hasn’t turned up. We think he’s having problems getting past the German patrols.’
‘Well, without a radio we cannot do business.’ Fournier’s smile faded as he thought. ‘I will ask some of my men to search for this radio operator. In the meantime, there is a safe house in Lieutades, a sleepy town. You won’t be bothered there. As soon as we find your man, we can begin. Now eat.’ He reached for a hunk of bread and ham, shovelling the meat into his mouth all at once.
* * *
The small guesthouse in Lieutades suited me very well. The only Germans were ones passing through, thankfully. After a few days of kicking our heels, I took a stroll to the quaint church, cutting through the graveyard, glancing at the headstones and tombs while soaking up the stillness, the peace. No cars passed; no people were around, just the bleating of sheep grazing in the surrounding fields.
I heaved myself up to sit on the craggy stone wall, turned my face to the blazing sun. A droning sound filtered in from the west, and as I watched the flawless sky a myriad of dark shapes sailed into view in the distance, masses of them. Americans, a white star visible on the fuselage of their aircraft. They were headed east, wherever they were going. ‘Good luck, boys,’ I whispered into the breeze.
Hubert had gone for a walk, preferring to be alone today. He was fed up with all the waiting. ‘It’s been a complete farce,’ he’d said earlier, kicking his bag out of the way in his room.
I wondered what Henri was doing right now. So near and yet so far away. My heart stung. All men hurt you or let you down sooner or later, so I used to think. I closed my eyes, pictured Dad, his grainy image faded by time and absence. Henri had convinced me otherwise, offered love and commitment. Tears stung my eyes. ‘I’ll find you soon, my love, once this is over,’ I whispered. Skylarks soared overhead, their sweet call breaking my reverie, serenading the dead.
In the distance, the faint rumble of a vehicle grew louder before a black car rounded the corner of the road and drew to a halt a few yards away. The driver’s door swung open, and a familiar voice sailed out.
‘Hello, Gertie. Have you picked your plot yet?’
‘Denden!’ I jumped down from the wall and rushed over to throw my arms around him as he emerged from the car. ‘You made it.’ The smell of cigarettes and sweat engulfed me in a cloud.
‘Thank the Gods! It was touch and go for a while back there.’ He grinned.
‘We’re staying at a quaint guesthouse up the road. I’ll show you.’ I stared at him for a moment. His blue eyes were dull, his face tanned but worn. He’d obviously had one heck of a journey. ‘I’m so thrilled you’re here. Now we can get down to work.’
‘Oh, let’s not be too hasty, luv. I’m worn out and starving.’ He got back in the car. ‘May as well drive, save me lugging the case around.’ He patted the seat next to him, and I jumped in.
His jolly face cheered me right up. ‘You’re all dusty.’ His blond hair was a little matted too.
‘Yes, well, I’ve been lying low for days. The place was crawling with Germans, and you’ll never guess, but I ran into an old friend.’ His face broke into a broad smile.
An old friend, indeed. One of his conquests by the look of that grin. Typical Denden. ‘Now I know the real reason you’re so damned late. Honestly.’
* * *
Later, when Hubert arrived back at the guesthouse, he found us tucking into a hearty meal, prepared by Madame Gilbert, our hostess.
‘Denis, you’re here. What the devil happened?’ Hubert shook his hand.
‘Well, let’s see. I landed the wrong side of Montlucon to find the place swarming with Germans. Jackboots all around. The Resistance sent me here, there, and everywhere. I’ve had the most wonderful tour of France, I must say. It was a little hair-raising at one point.’ He swallowed a mouthful of stew and reached for his wine to wash it down. ‘Lovely grub. Ooh, I think I’ve been missing out.’ He shovelled another forkful into his mouth.
‘You haven’t missed much,’ Hubert said.
Then we told him all about Hector’s arrest, and our unfriendly meeting with Gaspard. ‘Fournier and Tardivat are definitely with us. We’re going to arm their groups first and leave Gaspard to stew a while. He’ll soon come around.’ He’d be mad as hell once he discovered the others had new weapons and cash in their pockets. Oh yes, he’d soon be with us.
* * *
The sun peaked over the horizon, sailing into an azure sky; the long grass whispered in the breath of wind as a faint haze clung to the hills. It was warm and muggy. Today was a new beginning. A feeling of joy mixed with excitement stirred in the pit of my stomach. I reached beneath my pillow and grabbed my revolver, tucking it into the pouch at the back of my trousers. Den drove us back to Fournier in Chaudes-Aigues.
‘Ah, I see he turned up. Bonjour.’ Fournier beckoned us into a barn. ‘You can set up in here.’ Den got to work, setting up the radio, aerial and flicking through his book of codes.
‘What happens now?’ Fournier said.
‘We’ll send a message to London and advise them of the drop site,’ Hubert said. ‘We’ve already spotted a few fields that will be suitable. Next, we ask London for arms and ammunition. We will supply your group first.’
‘Merci. I will tell my men; they will spread the word. More will come to join us.’
‘Well, we’re still hopeful that Gaspard will see sense.’ He had the largest group, three or four thousand-strong and he’d soon see he was missing out.
‘Ha! That bumbling oaf has no sense. He thinks he knows everything, but he does not listen. He will soon realise when he sees our new weapons.’ Fournier laughed, pulled a black Basque beret from his trouser pocket and set it on his head.
He wasn’t wrong there. For our first haul, we were about to ask London for hundreds of Sten and Bren guns, grenades, and thousands of rounds of ammunition.
Denden checked his watch and glanced round at me. ‘Almost time, luvvie,’ he said in a sing-song voice, his code book in front of him. ‘Right, here we go.’ With his headset on he tapped out a message to London in Morse, while we all waited. I held my breath for a few seconds, aware of my heart pounding my ears. Fournier stared, eyes wide, a mix of intrigue and awe flashing there. Two minutes later Denis dragged off his headset. ‘That’s it, folks. We’re on our way.’ A broad grin danced on his lips.
I slapped him on the back. ‘Let’s hope so.’ I loved Denden. His cheery manner never failed to lift my spirits.
* * *
We chose the plateau above Chaudes-Aigues for the first drop. Fournier agreed it was ideal as the Germans weren’t near. Now, all we had to do was spend hours listening to the radio for a message from the BBC to confirm the drop. I’d used the code name strawberry for the parachutage site, along with my personal code, ‘the cow jumped over the moon.’ While I waited around with Denden, Hubert made his excuses and left with Fournier as he attended to the task of organising the network. I strode outside and turned my face to the mid-afternoon sun, glancing further westward to the hills, where beyond lay home and my heart.