Chapter 14
S t. Malo, Occupied France
Lizzie scanned the courtyard. Streaky first light revealed paving stones, and a washing line strung from an outbuilding to a post on the opposite side.
It looked much as she remembered, except the flower borders had been transformed into vegetable patches.
She thought of the pride her mother took in hers and imagined her chatting with her sister-in-law about their homegrown produce. Some things transcended wartime.
There were no visible signs of the inhabitants of the four-storey townhouse, and Lizzie hoped someone would be awake to let her in.
She raised her hand and knocked on the wooden door using the Frère Jacques rhythm of their secret childhood knock.
Lizzie held her breath. She hadn’t used that knock since she ran around playing childhood games with her cousins, but a lullaby about sleeping and ringing bells seemed ominously appropriate in an age when the Nazis were confiscating bells in occupied Europe.
Knock-knock-knock-knock ...
Knock-knock-knock-knock.
Would someone recognise the special knock? Lizzie and her cousin Sophie had used it the most, but all the family knew it. Lizzie waited, her heart tapping like the knocking. What if they didn’t live there anymore?
Minou pressed against her legs again, her purr loud and demanding. The Beaumont family must still live here because they wouldn’t leave their cat behind.
Still no sign of life. She repeated the rhythmic tapping again, slightly louder this time, but careful not to make so much noise she would alert the neighbours to what would be a suspicious early morning arrival.
Then she heard footsteps on the stairs before the door creaked open and a pair of eyes appeared in the slim crack.
‘Aunt Giselle!’ Lizzie said, her voice only slightly more than a whisper.
Her aunt’s expression was a picture of astonishment.
‘Mon Dieu,’ she said, her eyes widening.
Lizzie put her finger to her lips, and her aunt opened the door so she could enter and bundled her inside as the cat followed. Aunt Giselle scanned the houses on either side and then locked the door and turned to her niece.
They moved to kiss in the traditional way, but emotion floored them both and they fell into a tight embrace, tears flooding down their faces.
‘Come into the kitchen,’ said Aunt Giselle. ‘Your cheeks are freezing. Ma pauvre chérie.’
Lizzie felt a pang of regret at how distraught her aunt was at her sudden arrival. Perhaps she had made a wrong move.
‘Is it alright that I have come?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Alright? Of course! I am just surprised, that’s all. Come through and get warm, and I’ll make you some breakfast, and you can tell me what brings you to our doom-ridden shores.’
Uncle Charles was next to appear, and he hugged Lizzie, the shock clear on his face. ‘But I cannot believe it! How on earth did you travel here in the night?’
Uncle Charles was born in Jersey like Lizzie’s father, and he spoke native French after living in St. Malo since he was a young man. He pulled out a kitchen chair for Lizzie, and she almost collapsed onto the hard surface as a mixture of relief, exhaustion and emotion flooded over her.
She had made it. The second stage of her mission was complete.
Lizzie was grateful for the simple breakfast of chicory coffee, chewy dark bread with a smear of butter and a spoonful of strawberry jam.
Aunt Giselle made cooing sounds as she waited on Lizzie. ‘I’m afraid breakfast is a meagre affair compared to the abundant meals we enjoyed when you were last here.’
Lizzie smiled and touched her aunt’s hand. ‘It is wonderful. The jam is delicious. Is it homemade? I saw your plot outside. My mother has one very similar.’
‘How are your dear mother and father? Oh, how we have missed you all, haven’t we, Charles?’
Charles nodded, his eyes misting over at the mention of his brother and sister-in-law.
Lizzie said they were well, and the news appeared to have a calming effect. Over breakfast she told them what she could about why she had come without breaking the Official Secrets Act and endangering them any more than necessary.
‘I can’t tell you everything, for your own safety, and I am sorry for showing up here like this, but I talked it over with Pa and he thought you would help. If my presence here is too much for you, please say so, and I will find somewhere else to stay.’
Lizzie’s aunt and uncle both looked horrified at the suggestion.
‘If we can’t help our family, what is the point of living?’ said Aunt Giselle, who was known for her passionate declarations.
They finished their breakfast, and Giselle poured them more seedy coffee. ‘Are you feeling better? You haven’t told us how you got here. I’m dying to know.’
‘Probably best I don’t give you the specifics,’ Lizzie said. ‘The less you know, the better. Let’s just say I got here by unusual means and avoided contact with any Germans.’
Uncle Charles said, ‘Are we to understand you work for the British government like your father?’
‘Something like that. Where are Sophie and Fabian?’ Lizzie asked, changing the subject. She needed sleep before she told them anymore and risked revealing further details of her mission.
‘Sophie is asleep upstairs. Dieu merci, Fabian came back alive after the surrender and has a workshop at a farmhouse in St. Lunaire.
‘Lizzie!’ Her name echoed through the kitchen, and Sophie burst through the door and swept her up in a hug, until Lizzie slipped off her hard chair, and they almost toppled onto the floor together.
‘Calm down, Sophie,’ Giselle said. ‘We’re trying to be quiet!’
Sophie apologised, but her cornflower blue eyes glowed as she hugged Lizzie, and they restored their balance.
‘My darling cousin. How wonderful it is that you are here. Please tell me all. I can’t wait another minute. And your hair is black!’
Uncle Charles intercepted. ‘I’m afraid you will have to wait. Can’t you see the poor girl is almost dead on her feet? Help me see her upstairs and let her get some rest, and then you two can catch up this evening.’
Sophie looked disappointed but sprang into action and they part pulled, and part carried Lizzie up the stairs and tucked her into the narrow spare bed in Sophie’s room.
‘Sleep well,’ she said, stroking Lizzie’s black hair and dusting her forehead with a light kiss. ‘I’ll be home later, and we can talk then, Liz.’
‘Don’t mention to anyone I’m here,’ Lizzie muttered, her eyes rolling slightly as she fought the heavy fatigue, and her lids closed.
‘Whatever you want, my love. I will not utter a word.’
Sophie dressed for work and closed the door gently, leaving Lizzie to her dreams. She went downstairs and over a hasty breakfast, she interrogated her parents about the unexpected arrival of her Jersey cousin before setting out for work at the bookshop.