Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
T he car pulled away from the buttermilk-hued terraced house in Regent’s Park and Lizzie rang the doorbell. Her spirits rallied at the prospect of seeing her family. For one dreadful moment, she’d been worried the house might have been bombed when she was in France.
An unfamiliar face appeared in the doorway and a woman in uniform addressed Lizzie.
‘May I help you?’ she said.
‘Good morning, yes. I’m Elizabeth. I live here,’ she said, smiling.
‘Oh goodness me, sorry, miss. Pleased to meet you,’ she said, stepping hastily aside. ‘Let me help you with your case. You must be exhausted from your trip.’
Rose came rushing out to the entrance hall as soon as she heard her daughter’s voice. ‘My dear Lizzie, you are home at last. Thank goodness. This is Violet, by the way, our new housekeeper and an absolute angel.’
‘Very good to meet you, Violet,’ Lizzie said.
Rose embraced Lizzie and then stepped back to appraise her. ‘You look different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it. More worldly, perhaps. Now come and tell me all your news from this marvellous course you’ve been on.’
Violet served tea and toast in the drawing room, and Rose bombarded her daughter with questions. ‘You’ve been away longer than we expected. I was becoming quite concerned until your boss—a most affable man—stopped by to put our minds at ease. Then there was that dreadful business of the bombs falling not far from here.’
‘Yes, I heard about that,’ Lizzie said, munching hungrily on a piece of toast. ‘There were sandbags everywhere I looked this morning. I hope we’re not seriously expecting more bombing.’
Worry lines creased Rose’s forehead, and she quickly changed the subject. ‘Your father will be so pleased you are home, darling. He had an early meeting, so you won’t see him until later, but let’s have a lovely welcome home dinner for you. I daresay we can whip something up from these measly rations if I go to the shops today.’
Lizzie smiled indulgently at her mother. ‘I’ve only been gone a week, Ma.’
‘Well, it’s been a long week without you, that’s all I can say. We’ve all missed you terribly.’
Lizzie said she had missed them too but had been busy on the course. ‘All very dull, but vital to get it right,’ she added. ‘Where are Juliet and Evie, by the way? Not already out at this hour, surely?’
Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘It’s amazing just how much has happened whilst you’ve been away. Violet came to us most serendipitously on the recommendation of a colleague of your father’s, and I snapped her up. Running this place without help was getting a bit much. It’s difficult to get good female staff these days with so many women filling in for the men in other jobs. ’
Lizzie listened patiently to her mother’s meandering updates until she told her what her sisters were up to.
‘Juliet volunteered for the MTC. I think its proper name is the Mechanised Transport Corps. Have you heard of it?’
Lizzie scrunched up her face, trying to think. ‘I’m not sure. What do they do exactly?’
‘She’s only been there for a few days doing the training, but so far, she’s happy as a pig in mud. You know how she loves driving and messing about with cars. Should have been a boy, really, that one! It’s a voluntary women’s organisation. Not sure exactly, but no doubt we’ll hear the latest news when she comes home this evening.’
‘That does sound right up her alley,’ said Lizzie. ‘Who would have thought the war would open up so much opportunity for women?’
Rose poured them more tea, and a shadow crossed her face. ‘There’s still no word from the boys. Your father’s been making enquiries, but nothing yet.’
Lizzie reached for her mother’s arm. ‘They’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.’
Lizzie thought of the dead German soldier and wondered if his mother was waiting to hear from him. The thought upset her, and she pushed it out of her mind and forced herself to turn to happier topics. ‘And what of dear Evie? Has she found something to keep her out of mischief? She was going stir-crazy last week.’
Rose shook her head fondly. ‘Funny you should say that, but she’s been doing a lot of sewing. You know how good she is with a needle and thread. She went off early this morning. There’s a London charity that mends and repurposes clothes, and she volunteered to work with them. I don’t know if anything long-term will come of it, but it’s a relief to see you girls all finding your own way and being useful. You really are an enterprising bunch. ’
Up in her bedroom, Lizzie stood at the window, gazing out over the park as if in a dream. The foliage on the trees was still thick, and the colourful roses swayed in the gentle breeze. It was nearing the end of August and summer would soon fade into autumn and their first London winter would be upon them.
It was a beautiful day, but Lizzie’s thoughts kept circling back to Reims. And Jack. It would be a blessing to be at work the following day, and in truth she would rather have gone in today, but her boss had telephoned to say she should take the day off.
It just seemed wrong that she was back home, carrying on as if nothing had happened. This was the life of a spy, she realised, and must be the life Jack—or Raven—as he was known, was used to living.
The secrets and lies in the world of espionage were disconcerting, to say the least. She longed to confide in her mother about what had happened with the soldier, and how Jack had saved her, but it was strictly against her orders.
And the more she tried not to think about Jack, the more thoughts of him consumed her at every turn. Everything reminded her of him, and thoughts of their passionate kisses, followed by their horrible argument, taunted her. Lizzie regretted leaving him on bad terms and after such harsh words. She prayed he was safe, whatever he was doing.
She was just about to ask her mother if they might walk to the shops together to take her mind off things, when there was a tap at the door and Violet said a letter had arrived for her.
The envelope had her name on it, but no sign of the sender. She tore it open hurriedly, and a piece of notepaper fluttered out and landed on her shoe. The letter was only one line and signed off with just an initial. Lizzie’s heart sped up as she read it :
We need you at HQ. Please come first thing tomorrow.
V
That evening, dinner was a jolly affair, just as her mother had promised. Evie bubbled with news about her sewing endeavours and the fabulous women she was working with. It was good to see her so enthused, and Lizzie was pleased for her but slightly envious that her baby sister had such an innocent pursuit, and could share the details so joyfully, whilst she couldn’t say a word about her time in occupied France.
It felt like she was acting someone else’s role in a play—the old Lizzie—and had to pretend everything was normal, when inwardly her world was tumbling down around her.
Juliet was late home for dinner and popped her head into the dining room. Her face was grease marked, and she wore dungarees, and a headscarf covered her hair.
Lizzie stared at her and exclaimed. ‘Juliet. Look at you!’
A lot really had changed in the short time she’d been away.
‘Lizzie, there you are, dear sister. How wonderful! I must change and I’ll be down shortly to hear all your news. Don’t go anywhere.’
Mr Beaumont studied Lizzie’s face carefully when he arrived home. ‘How did it go?’ he asked, releasing her from a warm hug. ‘It’s good to have you back.’
‘It was fine, Pa. Lots of boring translation work but a wonderful group, so we had some fun.’
‘Excellent, excellent. I was concerned I’d inadvertently sent you into the lion’s den and got you embroiled in some kind of dangerous intelligence work. The services are always on the prowl for fluent French speakers, you know. Glad you’re home, my girl, safe and sound. Back to the office for you tomorrow, then? ’
Lizzie nodded, hating herself for lying to her father. Whilst he was a highly respected boffin at the War Office, he didn’t work in the field. No wonder he didn’t like the idea of her on active duty in France.
‘Back to the office.’ It wasn’t strictly a lie, she reasoned. She would be back at the office—just not at the office in Whitehall. Not first thing, anyway.
Juliet bounced into the room and piled food onto her plate. ‘I am absolutely ravenous. Haven’t eaten all day. No time,’ she gushed. ‘This is a wonderful spread. Makes a change. You should go away more often, Liz,’ she laughed. ‘So come on, tell us what you’ve been up to.’
Lizzie made her fictitious week on the course sound extraordinarily dull, to the point where Juliet yawned, and started telling her about her new job. Grateful for the change of subject, Lizzie listened and asked questions whilst trying not to let her thoughts stray back to Jack and his whereabouts.
‘It sounds as though you’ve found your calling, Jules,’ she said. ‘I’m so happy for you.’ Lizzie was relieved Juliet had something to keep her mind off Oliver. With RAF pilots being shot down every day, it was a wonder she could keep it together, poor love.
That night, as Lizzie lay in bed trying to fall asleep, she wondered why she had been summoned back to SOE.
What on earth did Val want that was so urgent?