Chapter 4
T he following morning, Lizzie found her father sitting at the breakfast table alone, engrossed in the newspaper.
He looked up when she entered. ‘Good morning, darling. I wasn’t sure when you girls would make an appearance. It was a late one last night, wasn’t it?’
Lizzie poured a cup of tea from the pot on the table and added a splash of milk. She needed a pick-me-up this morning after their late-night gallivanting.
‘Yes, Pa, it was rather.’
‘How was the new Hitchcock? I didn’t realise they ran so late.’
Lizzie smiled and looked rueful. ‘The film was so tense we felt the need for a drink afterwards to unwind.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Pa said, chuckling as he paused, teacup midway to his mouth. ‘Happens to the best of us. I hear the nightlife in London is quite spectacular, despite the war—or perhaps because of it?’
‘We went dancing at the Hammersmith Palais,’ said Lizzie. ‘Well, Evie did, anyway. Me and Juliet mostly stood watching like wallflowers.’
Pa raised an eyebrow. ‘That’ll be the day when any of my beautiful girls are wallflowers.’ He paused. ‘Anything I should know about Evie?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Nothing you don’t know already. We’re all well aware of what a firecracker she is.’
‘Ah, so she was giving them a run for their money on the dance floor?’
Lizzie nodded and scraped a thin layer of butter onto a piece of toast, followed by a generous spoonful of rhubarb jam, another win for the industrious food-growers and their home garden plot.
‘A handsome GI took a shine to her, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she sees him again.’
‘Oh, Lord, a romance with an American? That could complicate things.’
Lizzie crunched on her toast and dusted off her hands as she rose from the table. ‘I must get ready for work, dear sweet Pa. Try not to worry. You know we’re all grown up now.’
‘That’s exactly why I worry,’ he grumbled, rolling his eyes. ‘Your mother will be cross she missed such an eventful evening.’
‘I doubt we’d have had such an eventful evening if Ma had come with us, but don’t tell her that! We’d have been home for a cup of tea and tucked up in bed for an early night.’ Lizzie yawned and stretched. ‘I almost wish we had been. I’ll pay for it today.’
‘Before you rush off, I’ve been meaning to ask, how are things at Baker Street?’ Pa asked, his tone sober.
Lizzie sat down on the chair beside him and lowered her voice. ‘Busy as always. Looks like I might be needed for a special project soon.’
Pa’s forehead creased into a deep frown. ‘That’ll give me something real to worry about.’
Lizzie patted her father’s arm. ‘I don’t know for sure yet, but there’s been talk of a trip to St. Malo.’
Pa’s eyes searched hers, and he lowered his voice yet further. ‘You might see Uncle Charles?’
‘That’s why Val asked me to go. They know about the family. I mentioned having cousins there, and she remembered.’
Pa sighed. ‘It makes sense, but showing up out of the blue would endanger them all.’
Lizzie took her father’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I know. I will do all I can to keep them out of it, but I don’t have the finer details of the mission yet. My guess is they just want me to have a contact for when I arrive.’
Her father rubbed his free hand across his freshly shaven chin and appeared to ponder her words. ‘St. Malo is a key port, and it’s heavily occupied. I don’t like the idea of you going into that hornet’s nest.’
Lizzie longed to confide in her father more fully and find out what he knew of Hitler’s new directive, but she held her tongue. Even though they were both bound by the Official Secrets Act and on the same side, she couldn’t share details of the SOE intelligence.
Instead, she turned to the personal. It would be helpful for her to learn what she could about her cousins and her aunt and uncle to know what to expect when she arrived.
‘Do you think they will still be in St. Malo?’ Lizzie asked.
‘I wish I knew, but we’ve not been able to get in touch with them since France fell.
Uncle Charles and Aunt Giselle should be.
My brother wasn’t conscripted because of his age, but your cousin Fabian was.
I don’t know if he made it home.’ His voice tailed off as they both confronted the tragic thought they didn’t want to think.
‘I wonder what Sophie is doing,’ Lizzie said.
‘I would guess they’re at home, but who knows?’
Lizzie thought of her cousins again. She and Sophie were the closest in age and had always got on well.
After collecting her things from her room, Lizzie popped her head into her mother’s bedroom. ‘Morning, Ma. How are you feeling?’
Rose coughed. ‘Don’t come near me, my darling girl. I’m feeling slightly better this morning, but I don’t want you to catch this dreadful flu.’
Lizzie blew her mother a kiss, wished her a speedy recovery and promised she would visit again soon.
Val crossed the room and gazed out at the bright skyline of the London morning. ‘It’s a glorious day. Shall we get out of here for some fresh air?’ She pivoted to face Lizzie, who sat at her desk, which was laden with a stack of files.
Val rarely ventured outside of the office during working hours, and Lizzie brightened at the suggestion of fresh air to blow away the cobwebs. The late night really had taken its toll, and she was in danger of nodding off at her desk.
Both smart in uniform, they left the building, and Lizzie increased her step to keep up with Val, who after a brisk walk turned into the entrance of a pub on Baker Street called The Volunteer.
‘I passed by but have never been in here before,’ Lizzie said.
‘They have a pretty garden out back. I thought we could enjoy the sun whilst it lasts.’
It was a particularly warm day for April, and Lizzie settled at a table in the garden. Val joined her with two glasses and slid one towards her.
‘What is it?’ Lizzie asked, sniffing, her expression one of suspicion.
‘Goodness, the youth of today. It’s gin and tonic. Surely, you’ve drunk one before?’
Lizzie smiled. ‘It’s my mother’s drink. I stick to wine, although I enjoyed the brandy at the chateau.’ She took a sip and winced. ‘It’s so strong!’
‘It’s meant to be. That’ll put some hairs on your chest.’
They were the only patrons in the pub garden, so they talked freely, their voices low as a precaution.
Val took a big slug of gin and said, ‘I need to brief you. We must decide on the parameters of the mission. There’s no time to waste.’
Lizzie sipped the tangy gin and nodded, her heartbeat speeding up as she contemplated the realities of infiltrating St. Malo as a British spy. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘The chatter says that St. Malo will be a key port in the new coastal fortifications. The boss thinks you should enter by submarine rather than risk parachuting into France. We’ve experienced a few unfortunate incidents during the past few months.’
‘Submarine?’ Lizzie’s thoughts whirred as she tried to digest what Val told her. ‘I’ve never been on a submarine.’
‘You’d never used a parachute before, either.’
‘True. So, I’ll get training?’
‘Yes, but you won’t need to know much to go in by submarine. Our boys know all they need to know to get you there safely.’
Lizzie said, ‘What then?’
‘Cold-water swimming. If we get approval to use a submarine for the drop-off, you’ll need to swim from the submarine in the middle of the night in the freezing Channel and find your way safely to shore.’
Lizzie’s sip of gin burned her throat, and she coughed.
‘It says in your file, you’re a competent swimmer. I wouldn’t even suggest it otherwise. It’s a big ask.’
‘I did a lot of sea swimming in Jersey, although I haven’t swum once since moving to London,’ she said.
‘Is your instinct that you could pull it off?’ Val fixed her star agent with an intense gaze.
Lizzie studied her gin for a minute and then raised her eyes tentatively to meet Val’s. She nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘That’s the ticket,’ Val said, taking a long final swig of her gin and slamming the empty glass down on the table.
‘I knew you wouldn’t let us down.’ She stood and beckoned for Lizzie to do the same.
‘We’d better get back. The boss put in a special request for the use of a submarine.
It’s gone all the way up to the prime minister and the War Cabinet, so let’s hope they give us the nod to go ahead. ’
Lizzie could barely believe her mission was, perhaps at that very minute, being approved or possibly rejected by the great Winston Churchill himself.
She loved listening to his eloquent speeches on the radio, and he had rallied her and Jack’s spirits on the darkest of days throughout the Blitz and the Battle of Britain.
The thought that she, Lizzie Beaumont, was helping the prime minister fight the war was thrilling and terrifying simultaneously, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her.
‘Alright?’ Val asked as they crossed the garden and emerged onto busy Baker Street. Pedestrians milled about, and a military vehicle with soldiers in the front and supplies in the back, passed by.
‘I was just thinking what an honour it is to be involved.’
‘Once we get the word it’s a go, we will start preparing you accordingly. There’s no point in getting into the details before then. If we don’t get approval for Plan A, we’ll need to switch to Plan B.’
Lizzie turned to Val as they walked side by side, the sun now lurking behind silvery grey clouds, and a chill breeze blowing in their faces.
‘What’s Plan B?’
‘I’ll tell you as soon as we have one,’ Val replied, winking.
Lizzie wasn’t surprised. That was how the SOE worked. You never quite knew what you’d be asked to do next, and that was part of the challenge.
She wouldn’t have it any other way, but again she wondered what Jack would say when he found out she was going back into occupied France. She hoped she would still be in London to find out.