Chapter 3
T here was a stiff evening breeze as Lizzie walked through Regent’s Park, turning up her collar and burrowing her hands deeper into her coat pockets.
She gazed up at the slither of the shimmering crescent moon in the dusky sky as her thoughts turned over the events of her conversation with Val.
She wouldn’t spend another dull evening alone at the flat tonight.
She had a date with her sisters to see a film, but it would be difficult to keep her mind on it, now she knew she would be leaving on a mission again soon.
Keeping her clandestine life a secret from her family was always challenging and her least favourite part of working at the SOE.
Lizzie let herself into the house and the smells of something delicious drifted into the hallway and her mouth watered. She’d been so busy she hadn’t had time to eat lunch in the canteen. As if to confirm the situation, her stomach growled just as the housekeeper appeared.
‘There you are, Miss Lizzie. I’m just about to serve. They are waiting for you in the dining room. I’ll take your coat, and you go in and get warm.’
Lizzie greeted Violet with a grateful smile and did as she was told.
Between her mother and the housekeeper, there was no point interfering with the order of things.
The large house overlooking the park ran exactly as they liked it, and Lizzie was relieved her mother had Violet for company as well as to help with the housework and cooking.
Being uprooted from Jersey and leaving behind their family and friends was a harsh wrench for them all, and her mother had struggled to adjust, at home alone whilst they were all busy building new lives during the Blitz.
Violet made things smoother in the Beaumont house, and it was a win-win because she had been in dire need of a new position at exactly the right moment.
Lizzie entered the dining room, and the familiar buzz of her sisters’ chatter met her ears. ‘Hello, you lot. What’s for dinner? I’m famished.’
‘There you are at long last. We were beginning to think you were going to miss the film.’ Evie peered up at Lizzie, as Juliet helped herself to a small piece of hard bread.
‘Not a chance,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to it all week.’
‘ Suspicion , it is then,’ Evie declared. ‘Do you think it will be scary?’
‘Hitchcock likes to make you jump, but I haven’t spoken to anyone who’s seen it yet so I couldn’t say.’ Juliet, Lizzie’s older sister, talked between bites.
Lizzie dropped a kiss onto Pa’s cheek, and he folded up his newspaper and prepared to eat. ‘Where’s Ma?’
‘I’m afraid your mother’s under the weather with a bad cold. She’s tucked up in bed.’
‘Oh, what a shame. She was coming to see the film with us,’ Lizzie said, her face mirroring her disappointment. She’d not been home much lately and hadn’t seen her mother in a while.
‘I would say nip upstairs and see her before you go, but it’s probably more sensible not to get too close or you’ll catch it too.’
They ate a simple dinner comprised mostly of home-grown vegetable dishes.
The ever-stricter rationing forced people to get creative and the Beaumont family had joined the millions of Britons in the Dig For Victory campaign, where the government rallied them to take up gardening and contribute to the war effort and the nation’s food supply.
Previously immaculate flowerbeds in the pristine back garden of the elegant townhouse had been transformed into vegetable patches by Violet and Rose, Lizzie’s mother, where they grew an impressive selection of produce.
Lizzie served herself a portion of small potatoes along with a salad of lettuce, spring onions and radishes. ‘These potatoes are decent. Not on the Jersey level of course, but not bad, especially considering Ma and Violet grew them!’
‘Very true. They’re doing a cracking job. You should taste these too. Here,’ Pa said, passing a dish of colourful carrots over to Lizzie.
They ate considerably smaller portions than early in the war, but that wasn’t a bad thing for Lizzie because she would need to adjust to living on a small quantity of food when she went back into occupied France.
‘Thank you for the delicious meal,’ she said to Violet when she helped clear the table, and the housekeeper promised them a special dessert would soon be served.
‘Wait until you taste Violet’s new apple dessert,’ Evie said.
‘Any news from Archie or Ollie?’ Lizzie asked as she stacked the plates.
Juliet shook her head, a gloomy expression on her pretty face. ‘Nothing from either of them for a while now.’
Lizzie regretted asking because the jolly mood at the dinner table was dampened instantly by the mention of her brother Archie who was fighting in North Africa, and Oliver, Juliet’s fiancé, who flew with Fighter Command in the RAF.
Lizzie reached to pat Juliet’s hand. ‘You’ll hear something soon.’
Pa cleared his throat. ‘Now the Americans have joined, we expect things should move faster.’
Lizzie didn’t bother asking for details because as an employee of the War Office, her father, like herself, was bound by the Official Secrets Act so he wouldn’t say more than one could hear on the radio.
‘Let’s hope so,’ she said, dipping her spoon into the apple desert. ‘What’s this, then?’
Evie said, ‘They call it Apple Crumble and it’s my new absolute favourite. Miles better than War Cake!’
‘Yum,’ Lizzie said, screwing up her face as the sweet and sour flavours collided on her tongue. ‘Stewed apples and some kind of floury sweet topping?’
‘I helped Violet make it. It’s an adapted recipe that’s become popular as a war substitute for apple pie because it only needs a sprinkle of flour and a bit of fat and sugar. Isn’t it clever?’ Evie said, her eyes shining and her copper curls bouncing as she ate a spoonful of crumble.
‘How innovative,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s amazing what people come up with isn’t it?’
They all agreed the spirit of the nation and the war effort was something to be proud of.
Lizzie looked from Evie to Juliet. ‘And to think, in Jersey, we had no idea how tough life could be. It never even crossed my mind to think about whether we could get butter, cheese, eggs or meat. What a charmed life we led.’
Pa sighed. ‘Rations from the First War were easing up by the time you were born, Lizzie, thank goodness. Your grandparents grew their own crops at Seagrove, so we didn’t struggle as much as many did.’
The unspoken words hung between them, and Lizzie knew they were all thinking of Nan and Pops who were now living under Nazi occupation in the island of their birth.
Lizzie rose from her chair. ‘We’d better get going if we’re to catch the beginning of the film.’ She glanced over at her father. ‘Want to join us, Pa?’
Reginald shook his head. ‘No darling, although that’s very kind of you to include an old fuddy-duddy like me. You girls go and have some fun. Your mother will be sorry to miss it, she loves your cinema visits so be sure to tell her all about it.’
They wrapped up warm in their coats and scarves and the three of them hurried to the station. It was dark by now, and the three sisters looped their arms through each other’s as they walked.
Piccadilly Circus wasn’t far and soon they exited the Underground and walked to Leicester Square which buzzed with servicemen.
The British soldiers were dressed in an array of RAF, khaki and Royal Navy uniforms, and Lizzie noted with interest the number of American GIs, dashing in their distinctive olive uniforms, a noticeably different shade of khaki.
Lizzie hadn’t lived in London before the outbreak of the war, but she could see there was something electric about wartime.
People lived for the moment, thinking quite rightly that it could be their last. Londoners were determined to enjoy themselves at every opportunity and the nightlife was vibrant.
Jack and Lizzie sometimes went dancing on the rare occasion they were both able to get away, and Lizzie looked with longing at the women on the arms of the servicemen.
She suspected there would be many a broken heart when life returned to normal and lovers who would never have been thrown together if it weren’t for the war, would be forced to return home, or worse.
There was a queue of talkative couples outside the Ritz Cinema.
The psychological thriller, Suspicion wasn’t family viewing.
They moved slowly through the entrance and found their seats.
The lights were already dimmed, and hush fell over the auditorium, and then the sounds of a patriotic newsreel filled the void, documenting current events and commending the war effort.
The film started and Lizzie sat on the edge of her seat throughout. At one point, Evie jumped and let out a scream, which made Lizzie dissolve into laughter, and Evie punched her sister on the arm, looking like she would burst with indignation.
‘Don’t be scared, dear Evie. We’ll keep you safe,’ Lizzie whispered, and someone hushed them from the seat behind.
The film passed in a blur of sweet-sucking, pounding hearts and big sighs until tense scenes flickered towards the abrupt ending.
When they emerged from the cinema, Evie said, ‘I don’t mind admitting that film scared the bloody life out of me. Imagine your husband plotting to kill you like that? It must be even more scary than knowing the Nazis are after you.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Lizzie said, knowing exactly how terrifying it was to have the Nazis after her.
‘Psychological thrillers aren’t my favourite,’ Lizzie continued.
‘I do rather like Cary Grant, though. He’s so charming, but I prefer him when he’s not playing a baddie. Joan Fontaine was excellent.’
They dissected the film and all agreed it was a strange and unsatisfying ending.
‘How about we have a quick drink instead of going straight home?’ Evie said, always the one to push boundaries and try to convince her older sisters to do her bidding.