Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
‘ C ongratulations, you passed with flying colours,’ said Charlie to Lizzie the following morning when he summoned the remaining candidates to his makeshift office, one by one, to speak with him.
‘That’s good news,’ Lizzie said. ‘What time do I fly out?’
‘In the early hours. I’ll confirm details later.’
That afternoon, they were called into one of the drawing rooms and found a busy team preparing their clothing and kits for them to take on their missions. Lizzie was grateful when one of them handed her what she thought of as her lucky yellow silk scarf.
She’d given her case in at SOE HQ upon her return last time and the only thing she’d held onto was the red lipstick, and that was only because she’d forgotten she had it.
When they were all sorted, and their cases were packed, Charlie lifted Lizzie’s hair and looped a chain around her neck. ‘It has a suicide pill in it. You open it like this,’ he said, clicking the back of the silver pendant. ‘Voila. It goes without saying, I hope you’ll never have to use it.’
One of the team called her over. ‘Now for your papers.’ He showed her various forged French documents, some of which were familiar. ‘And this. It’s a certificate of non-belonging to the Jewish race.’
‘I didn’t have one of those last time,’ Lizzie said. ‘Is that really necessary?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ the man replied, his expression grave. ‘The Nazis are enforcing ever-tighter restrictions on Jews in France just like in Germany before the war.’
Lizzie struggled to digest what he was telling her. She knew about the fate of Hannah’s parents, but recently she’d heard the stories of more and more terrible things befalling the German Jews. They had been stripped of all their civil rights and there were reports of them disappearing on trains.
But this… Now she was holding this certificate with her own hands, it seemed all too real. Listening to someone reporting on the wireless was far removed from the reality of the systematic persecution of the Jewish people. Lizzie shivered as she tucked the papers away and her resolve to do all she could to stop the Nazis deepened.
The moon was barely visible behind the clouds when they took off that night from a field near the stately home. ‘We’ll have our work cut out landing in this. It’ll be something of a blind drop,’ said the pilot. ‘Let’s hope the reception committee is there to guide the way with torches.’
Lizzie sat bolt upright, too tense to relax. Her head was spinning with conflicting thoughts, and she tried to calm herself. Soon she’d be in enemy territory, and she must gather her wits. The past week had been a whirlwind, and she was mentally and physically drained, but there was no time for that.
Eventually, Lizzie closed her eyes and managed to fall into a light doze until she heard the pilot alert her. They were only ten minutes away now. The moon wasn’t any brighter in Reims and she shivered as the adrenaline flooded her system. She would shortly be falling through the air with a parachute. Again.
What if Jack wasn’t there to meet her?
She pushed the thought aside. Doubt had no place in this game of cat and mouse. Lizzie refused to play the role of mouse, so she must be as quiet and nimble as a cat.
Her nerves fuelled her and transformed into excitement. This is what she signed up for. People were depending on her, and she was determined not to let them or herself down.
She squinted out the window, but all she could see was dense blackness. The jerk of the plane descending through the French skies buffeted her about and she slipped off the seat and banged her hand. Lizzie clambered back onto the seat and tried not to think that they could be shot down at any moment if they were unlucky. She told herself the brave RAF pilots risked their lives every time they made these flights. She could do it once more.
Lizzie had boarded the plane wearing her jumpsuit and kitted out with her parachute gear. Jack wasn’t there to make sure it was all fitted correctly like last time, but a member of the team at the airfield reminded her how to attach herself to the cable before jumping. Lizzie stood and followed the instructions in a dreamlike state.
‘Once you’re safely down, I’ll release some basic supplies by parachute. I’m ordered not to land,’ shouted the pilot.
The noise of the aircraft reverberated in Lizzie’s ears.
‘Thank you. I’m ready,’ Lizzie called back, her heart thudding so hard it felt like it was in her throat.
The hatch opened and wind rushed into her face. She called out 1, 2, 3 as much for herself as to let the pilot know. There was no going back now. She hurled herself into the abyss. The summer’s night air had an icy sting to it when she exited the aircraft and plummeted into the dark depths. She prayed her parachute would open.
After what seemed like an eternity, it did, and then finally her feet touched the ground, and she landed in a pile of canvas, illuminated in a circle of torchlight.
Someone darted over to help her up. ‘Bonsoir,’ said a deep voice she recognised but she couldn’t see the accompanying face clearly.
‘Pierre, is that you?’
He embraced her and assured her it was.
‘Move out of the way, everyone,’ he called out.
Lizzie saw boxes of various sizes tumbling onto the grass, like manna from heaven.
Pierre said, ‘Quick, we must gather up these supplies.’
The small group stashed them in a nearby van. And then Pierre helped her remove her equipment and steered her gently by the elbow to jump in next to him. Soon they were on their way. The engine hummed quietly, and they drove slowly without headlights, inching along an uneven, dark road.
‘How on earth do you see where you’re going?’ she asked.
Pierre chuckled. ‘I don’t…’
Lizzie’s heart raced as she looked around her, shadows in the pale moonlight making her jump.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’ve lived on our farm all my life and been driving this route for most of it. I could probably do it with my eyes closed.’
Lizzie gradually relaxed and decided she must trust Pierre’s instincts. There was nothing she could do now, anyway. It was still pitch black by the time they bumped down the lane towards the farm and the old van rumbled to a stop in front of the house.
Lizzie saw Camille in the doorway, her silhouette lit by the torch she held low in her hand. She stepped forward to welcome Lizzie and enveloped her in a big, warm hug.
‘Here you are, my dear. How good it is to see you! Come in, come in.’ She bustled Lizzie into the kitchen and made her a cup of hot tea. ‘You must be weary after your journey. Would you like to get some sleep after the tea?’
Lizzie yawned. ‘Yes, please, Camille. It’s so good to see you too. Thank you for hosting me again like this.’
‘Jack is so sorry he couldn’t be here,’ she said.
Sleep deserted Lizzie at the mention of Jack. She was intensely disappointed he hadn’t been there to meet her, but didn’t want to make it obvious by asking Pierre where he was.
‘A wireless operator received a message from Hannah. Finally! Jack left for the Free Zone this morning to meet with her. It was too good an opportunity to miss. One of our workers had to make a delivery in that direction, so Jack rode with him disguised as a labourer.’
‘You are putting yourselves in grave danger by helping us,’ Lizzie said. ‘Has Jack been staying with you ever since I left?’
Camille nodded. ‘Yes, he’s been busy. He reactivated the Resistance network, and Pierre agreed to be the leader in Hannah’s absence. After she disappeared, it all fell apart, you see. A few members fled Reims and others laid low, thinking if Hannah was discovered, it was only a matter of days before they came for them. But Hannah wasn’t captured after all. Isn’t it wonderful news?’
Lizzie nodded. It was wonderful news, and she was happy for Hannah and happy for the Resistance. But her heart felt leaden with stone when she thought about what this meant for Jack. He would be reunited with the love of his life.
Lizzie shook herself. What the hell was she doing, letting her feelings affect her like this? She may as well have stayed at home if she was going to behave like some poor love-crushed sap.
No. I must rise above this.
There would be plenty of time for love after the war—unless Germany invaded England—in which case, life as they knew it would be over forever.
Either way, there was no time for mooning around over Jack.
Camille sipped her tea and continued. ‘Pierre and I decided working with the Resistance and the Allies is the only choice we have if we’re to live with ourselves after the war.
A couple of our friends were arrested last week, purely because they are Jews. They are not even religious. The French police are not bothering to pretend it’s for any other reason now. Our dear friends were born and bred in France, but it means nothing to those traitors. They are as evil as the Nazis. Honestly, I am ashamed to be French. For that reason, we must do all we can to resist and support the Allies.’
Lizzie was now wide awake. Pierre joined them at the kitchen table and Camille brought him a cup of tea.
‘Thank you for meeting me,’ Lizzie said to Pierre. ‘Camille was just telling me you’ve been working with Jack to create the new network.’
‘That’s right. He should be back in a day or two. We need all the support we can get for what lies ahead of us.’
‘Do you know what I am to do? I was told I’d be briefed on my mission after I arrive. Safer that way, I suppose.’
‘The less you know, the better,’ they all said at once, smiling.
‘I can see Jack has drilled you,’ Lizzie laughed.
‘The plan is to blow up the German airfield,’ said Pierre.
Lizzie’s eyes widened and then she squinted as the first rays of light entered the kitchen and she heard the birds chirping. ‘How are we going to do that?’
‘We haven’t figured out all the details yet. But we will. Let’s all get some sleep whilst we can, and then we’ll make plans tomorrow.’
Camille showed Lizzie into the secret room with the bed she’d shared with Jack before they argued.
She tried to block the vision of Jack and Hannah from her mind. But she awoke after dreaming of a girl with golden hair and piercing blue eyes running into his arms. She tossed and turned in the big empty bed until she drifted into an exhausted slumber.