Chapter 6
E vents moved quickly and the days raced by once Val confirmed the details of Lizzie’s mission.
Approval was forthcoming from the War Cabinet at Whitehall.
Lizzie was whisked into an intensive training course of cold-water sea swimming over several days where she was plunged repeatedly from a rowing boat in the depths of the night into the dark churning waters off the coast of Brighton, as close as they could get to the Brittany conditions she would face.
The swirling, freezing water was far from that of the pleasurable swims at Portelet Bay near her family home, Seagrove in Jersey, but she was a competent swimmer, and she managed well.
Lizzie was still physically fit despite not being active in the field for a while, but her muscles burnt as she fought the swell of the Channel. The real test was staying in control of her mental state, and she was well prepared after her many undercover missions in enemy territory.
On the drive back to London, Val turned to face her. ‘Are you ready?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes, as ready as I’ll ever be. It’s fortunate I’ve been a serious swimmer since I was little.’
‘Indeed, otherwise we’d have to parachute you in and that would be more risky, given the level of German military presence in the area.’
That night, Lizzie tossed and turned in the big bed alone at Jack’s flat.
There were other preparations to make before she could leave but Val said, she would embark on the mission one week from today if the weather conditions were appropriate.
It was the earliest they could get the submarine, or she would have gone in sooner.
At work the following morning, Val said, ‘It’s just as well Jack will be back just after you go. You’ve become indispensable in keeping an eye on the agents in his absence, and he can pick up where you left off.’
Lizzie tried to smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she shifted in her seat.
That was it then. Jack would return only after she had gone, and they wouldn’t see each other for even a brief encounter like ships passing in the night.
Frantically, she thought how to contact him, but all the protocols were against her.
It was one thing, Jack sending the occasional specially coded message to her as his subordinate, but he was her commanding officer, and if she sent a message to the training base in Scotland, the chances are one of the cryptographers would decode it before they passed it to him.
What could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound too personal?
No, it was too dangerous. She had no good reason whatsoever to use SOE resources to let him know she was leaving on a mission.
Lizzie was troubled as she drifted off to sleep. This was one of those dreadful times when she had to push her feelings for Jack firmly aside and choose duty over love. It was the only way they could both serve their country and not go mad with pining for each other.
The morning at the Regent’s Park house passed slowly when the big day arrived.
Her stomach churned, and she tried not to think about what she would be doing that night.
It was all too terrifying if she let herself dwell on it, so instead she thought back to how wonderful it had been when she and Jack went on their last mission together.
This time she would be alone again, and the adrenaline rushed through her veins whenever she thought about the imminent operation.
‘Lizzie, Earth calling Lizzie,’ her mother said, setting down her teacup and fixing her daughter with a piercing stare.
‘Sorry, Ma. I was thinking about work, that’s all.’
‘It’s no wonder. The way they expect you to go off at a moment’s notice is beyond me. I said to your father, he should have a word with them. It’s not right.’
Lizzie couldn’t help laughing at her mother’s interference. ‘No, Ma. I can’t be known as the daddy’s girl who gets her father to pull strings for her because he works at the War Office.’
‘Well, I don’t see why. You’ve already gone far beyond the call of duty. You’ve spent months away from your family languishing God knows where since you got that job. I can never understand what is so urgent that they can’t give you more notice.’
Lizzie knew there was no point going head-to-head with her mother, who was fierce when it came to protecting her children, so she expertly changed the subject.
‘I’ll be back before you know it, Ma, and we can go to the cinema together.’
‘What a lovely idea. I was sorry to miss Cary Grant’s latest picture.
Talking of which, that GI Joe fellow has been around for Evie again, you know.
I will admit he is rather handsome, but I worry about him breaking her heart.
She’s so impressionable. When this is all over, he’ll be footloose and fancy free on his way back to America. ’
‘Of course, you worry, Ma. It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t, would it?’ Lizzie cast an indulgent smile at her mother and offered a silent prayer of thanks that her mother didn’t know what she would be doing tonight. In some ways, it was easier that she must keep her activities a secret.
Violet brought Lizzie and her mother a light lunch and then it was time to say goodbye. She had bid farewell to her father and sisters that morning at breakfast, and Pa’s eyes were distinctly watery when he hugged his daughter as though he never wanted to release her.
‘I must go now,’ she said to her mother who sat at the circular table in the drawing room.
‘So soon? Where’s your case, darling?’ she asked as Lizzie slipped her coat over her shoulders and placed her hat firmly onto her chestnut waves.
‘It’s at work. I organised it all yesterday,’ Lizzie said. That was another lie. The price of keeping her clandestine activities hidden was that she was now a practiced and extremely accomplished liar. The truth was she couldn’t take anything that wouldn’t fit into a small waterproof pouch.
Contrary to what she told her mother, Lizzie didn’t leave for her new assignment that afternoon, but instead cut through the park to the station and entered Baker Street HQ where a small team waited to brief her on the latest intelligence from Northern France and what she should expect since her last visit.
That evening at the flat she dyed her hair black and when her glossy waves were almost dry, she appraised herself in the small bathroom mirror.
Her disguise reminded her of when she’d coloured her hair for a mission in Paris.
She laughed at the memory, but her mirth was short-lived and morphed into an aching nostalgia for her dear friend and sister-at-arms, Hannah.
Early the following morning, Val waited in the back of the car when she stepped outside.
On the drive to the Royal Navy base in Portsmouth, she briefed Lizzie.
‘Tonight is the fourth night after the new moon. Unlike your previous drops where the full moon was your friend, for the submarine insertion we need just enough light for you to swim to shore but not so much that the German night watch will spot you.’
Val fished into the pouch she extracted from her handbag. ‘Here are your documents.’ It was good practice to give an agent their documents just as they were about to leave, so there was less risk of them being stolen.
Lizzie took them out one by one, checking the details of her identity papers with a practiced eye. ‘All looks in order,’ she said, meeting Val’s gaze.
Val nodded and slipped the pouch back into her handbag for safekeeping.
‘Look how far you’ve come since you were the new recruit who didn’t know how to jump out of a plane.’
Lizzie smiled, despite the tightness forming in her chest. ‘Well, it’s hardly something they taught us to do at school in Jersey.’
‘Quite right. If we’d known what was coming, perhaps they might have done. We certainly all could have been better prepared.’
They sat in silence for a while, and Lizzie gazed out of the window as the streets showed signs of a new day and the vehicle swept them away from London and along the quiet road towards the coast. The sky was a moody grey shot with stabs of pink as if the morning was trying its hardest to be pleasant but wasn’t quite up to the task.
‘Black hair suits you,’ Val said, piercing the silence.
Lizzie touched her hair. ‘I don’t know about that, but hopefully it will do the job and throw anyone off the scent who might vaguely recognise me from a previous mission.’
‘The odds are long you’d bump into someone from a different city, but it’s always worth taking extra precautions. What we must avoid is the Boche having your description on file, so the more frequently we change your identity, the more we’ll confuse the hell out of them.’
Val switched smoothly to perfect Parisian French, and Lizzie took her cue.
The cover story the SOE constructed for her was as the daughter of her aunt’s friend from Paris.
It meant she wouldn’t be expected to speak in Brittany-accented French.
They talked like Parisians all the way to Portsmouth.
Cover stories were a fine art, and Lizzie let her new identity fill her mind and permeate her soul until she almost convinced herself she was indeed Mademoiselle Rose Rousseau from Paris.
After various preparations, the clock ticked slowly by as Val waited with Lizzie in a little room at HMNB Portsmouth. After what seemed an age, at 5 p.m. on the dot, the duty watch officer knocked briskly and Val gave him permission to enter.
‘Good afternoon, it’s time to go, miss,’ he said, looking from Val to Lizzie.
Waves of mounting tension gripped her chest like a vice as she jumped to her feet, and they left the room in a solemn line.
They emerged on the naval waterfront, and Val escorted her towards the jetty, and they followed the submariner in his blue uniform.
Gulls screeched overhead, and the smell of diesel hit Lizzie as they approached the submarine. Its engines growled as it lurked on the concrete quay waiting to transport her to the coast of St. Malo—the city of Nazis.
All around them was a hive of activity, with dockworkers securing lines.
The sea lapped against the hull, and oil slicks glimmered in the light.
Lizzie shivered at the thought of slipping out of the submarine and swimming in the freezing Channel.
Was she up to the task? A doubtful voice whispered in her head.
Just because you swam at Portelet Bay doesn’t mean you are up to swimming in the Channel in the middle of the night and infiltrating a Nazi-occupied port.
She pushed the scary thoughts to the back of her mind. This was no time to let panic grip her. It was too late now, anyway. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.
It was a fine line between the adrenaline of excitement and fear, and she took a deep breath, consciously drawing on the former, knowing it would get her through.
Val glanced up at the sky. ‘You’re in luck, Seagrove. The weather looks like it will hold for a smooth crossing.’
Lizzie followed her gaze. The sky had lightened, and the fierce jolts of pink from the morning had transformed into a gentle golden hue with the sun just beginning to descend slowly over the horizon.
‘Right then,’ said Lizzie, facing Val, her shoulders squared and a determined expression on her face.
‘Godspeed, Seagrove,’ Val said, patting her shoulder. ‘I won’t come aboard—they barely have space for an extra passenger as it is, but I look forward to your message as soon as you’re set up.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Lizzie replied. ‘I will do my best.’
‘And that’s all we may ask of you,’ Val said. She hovered near Lizzie for a few seconds longer as if she didn’t want to leave her, and then cleared her throat and walked away without looking back, leaving Lizzie standing on the quay watching her disappear.
Her mentor was gone, and with her the last thread of her connection to Jack.