Chapter 17
I t had been a few days since Lizzie’s arrival in St. Malo and she was worried that she hadn’t made progress with her mission.
Whilst she had discussed the operation in broad terms with Val, there were no clear parameters of how to go about gaining intelligence on Hitler’s new directive.
Without established contacts to work with it seemed an impossible assignment.
During breakfast with the family, she decided she must do two things as soon as possible.
Take a reconnaissance trip to assess the current harbour and port fortifications to get the lay of the land without arousing suspicion.
And try to locate the contact the SOE told her was her best chance for getting access to a radio set.
Then she could message London that she had arrived and was safely in position.
Message Jack.
Now that the immediate rush of preparing for her departure was over and she faced the daunting reality of what she must do, Lizzie longed for Jack’s presence.
He would be back in London, and the thought of them missing each other by such a narrow window after so long apart physically hurt her heart.
She had spent months working at Baker Street, in and out of Val’s office, and the cipher room.
It was the perfect opportunity for them to be together, but circumstances had arranged themselves with a cruel twist of fate and she felt as though their precious time had been snatched from them.
Just one day later leaving on her mission or one day earlier for his return and they could have at least seen each other. Touched each other.
And heartache aside, she was certain Jack would have given her more solid guidance on how to extract the intelligence Churchill needed.
Val was a wonderful mentor, but Lizzie feared she overestimated her abilities and left her to her own devices too much.
Jack was overprotective but she could depend on him thinking through every possible scenario and helping her formulate a plan.
Now she must do it all alone.
Over breakfast, Sophie talked about books banned by the Nazis and how she was worried what the SS officer had meant by his chilling threat to return soon.
Aunt Giselle said it was a disgrace and Uncle Charles tried to calm them without success.
They were all agitated by the SS officer’s sudden visit to the bookshop.
Lizzie let the chatter wash over her as she tussled with the conundrum of how to get access to the German plans for coastal fortification. Now that she faced the immediacy of her task, she doubted her ability to do it.
As she often did, when faced with what seemed an insurmountable challenge behind enemy lines, she asked herself: What would Hannah do?
Hannah always knew what to do. Lizzie was convinced of that ever since she witnessed her in action in Paris and they worked together in the Liberty Network.
Hannah had the foresight and the nerve to infiltrate German High Command and steal intelligence from under the Nazis’ noses.
Lizzie had helped her, but Hannah was the mastermind, and she had inspired her with her bold action.
Lizzie smeared a spoonful of strawberry jam onto the toast Sophie put in front of her. ‘This is delicious. I must take my turn to prepare breakfast tomorrow,’ she said, her mind still turning over possibilities.
‘Nonsense,’ said Aunt Giselle. ‘You are our guest, and we are thrilled to have you. Let us spoil you a little, at least whilst you settle in.’
Lizzie was grateful to have been received with such enthusiasm.
It could easily have gone another way, no matter how much they loved her.
Her considerable experience undercover in occupied cities told her people were prone to panic in situations that put them in danger, and she had been ready to leave and find another base if necessary.
Val hadn’t given her a Plan B, but she was trained to make one on the fly.
Uncle Charles finished his breakfast and stood to leave.
‘I must hurry to work, my dear ones. Sophie, please take care and check the book lists like we discussed. There is no benefit whatsoever in angering a high-ranking Nazi. Hate it as we do, our lives are in their hands until the brave Allies liberate us.’
Rays of morning sun shone on Sophie’s head as she looked up at her father. Her blonde hair gleamed like spun gold and her blue eyes sparkled with indignation.
‘Papa, I cannot bear to stock any more of those vile Nazi-approved books. They make me want to vomit!’
Charles said, ‘I know it is despicable, my love, but if we don’t, it will draw attention to the bookshop and who knows what they’ll do? Remember that keeping the shop open is the goal and to do so we must follow their rules of business, abominable as they are.’
Sophie released a long dramatic sigh. ‘You are right, I know. I will go over the lists today. It’s just that it seems such a betrayal of Judith and all the Cohen family, but if it’s what we must do to save their business …’
Lizzie took pity on her cousin. ‘Would you like me to come and help you, Sophie? You’d have to show me how things work, but if you like, we could come up with a plan together of how to make sure the shop complies with the rules.’
Her suggestion made Lizzie think of Jack again and how he would tease her about being highly unsuitable to oversee such a project. He would say she was more likely to shoot the Nazis than obey them, and he was right.
On reflection, perhaps she wasn’t the best person for the job, but she would rein in her feelings because Sophie didn’t need riling up when she was already so distraught.
Sophie accepted Lizzie’s offer, and Aunt Giselle said she thought it was a good idea.
‘Stay in the back though,’ she warned Lizzie.
‘That dirty Boche could return, and I didn’t like the way he looked at you.
You too, Sophie. His city, his book lists, and who knows what else he thinks belongs to him. Be extra careful, please, girls.’
They both promised they would, and Lizzie decided she would use the bookshop as a base to go off and do her reconnaissance after she’d helped Sophie.
Giselle said she would like to come too but must queue for supplies.
She might join them later. Charles and Giselle left the house, and Minou entered after a night on the tiles, performing a graceful leap onto Sophie’s lap, and purring loudly as she stroked the cat’s silky head.
Then, Lizzie and Sophie cleared the table and got ready to leave for the shop, chatting as they dressed.
Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. Spending time at the bookshop could get her into hot water with the SS officer, but it also offered her a plausible cover story for being in the city centre. In fact, she couldn’t have arranged it any better if she’d planned it herself.
Danger or not, she couldn’t afford to miss such an opportunity. Hannah wouldn’t.
They walked briskly to the bookshop. It was brighter today, and the sun glittered on the granite walls of the old city. Lizzie felt like she was in a dream, being so near to Jersey after so long.
A tantalising thought flickered into her consciousness as the healing sun warmed her face, but she banished it. She wasn’t here to visit her grandparents in Jersey.
Her mission was clear. Get into St. Malo and discover all she could about Hitler’s new strategy to stop the Allies liberating occupied Europe. Then get out.
Besides, it would be treacherous, and she was already in terrible danger. She dismissed the idea of finding a way to get to Jersey whilst she was so close, but it lingered in her mind like a forbidden fruit, seductive and just out of reach.
‘Remember you must call me Rose at all times,’ Lizzie whispered to her cousin, bringing herself back to the moment. She couldn’t afford to drift and daydream about Jersey when she was in the heart of an occupied city and had placed her family members in more danger than they seemed to grasp.
They arrived at the bookshop and Sophie jangled the keys and opened the door. Lizzie followed Sophie inside and saw her shuffling papers that had been posted through the letterbox.
‘More hateful propaganda from the damn Nazis,’ she hissed. ‘You’d think they’d realise we’ve got the idea by now. How many antisemitic pamphlets do they think we need to get their odious message?’
‘Let me see,’ Lizzie said, relieving Sophie of the pile of papers. She flicked through and saw there was a warning notice about collaborating with enemies of the Reich and threats of severe punishment for those who did. They offered rewards for information that led to their capture.
Lizzie shivered, despite the warmth of the pleasant morning.
Sophie hung up their coats, and they moved through to the back room.
‘I’m sure the postman must be a fully paid-up member of the Nazi party,’ Sophie said, angry red spots staining her pale cheeks.
‘One day, I’m going to print my own pamphlets to distribute to tell the truth about their vile actions.
The lies they spread make me so mad. And do you know, some people actually believe what they say? ’
Lizzie assessed her cousin to decide whether she was being serious about printing her own literature or whether this was merely an emotional outburst.
‘You are angry, and I don’t blame you,’ Lizzie said. ‘But you must be cautious, like your Papa said.’
‘I am careful, but sometimes I feel like I might explode with shame and disgust at what has become of France. My friend Judith and her family were loyal French citizens. They did nothing wrong. In fact, they did everything right. This bookshop was in their family for generations and all they did was provide a service to the community and live their lives. They were born here for God’s sake, but it makes no difference to these monsters. ’
Tears ran down Sophie’s face, and Lizzie reached out to console her.
‘These are terrible, dark times, but we must not be defeated,’ she said, dabbing Sophie’s face with her hand.
She said the words with more conviction than she felt.
Sometimes when she was confronted with the pure evil of Nazi ideology, she too felt like breaking down and crying.
Again, she was reminded of Hannah and how she and her family were persecuted as Jews in Berlin in the thirties.
There was no point saying things would get better if they didn’t find a way to make it happen.
They all knew things would not get better, and sanity would not be restored until the Allies invaded, and the Nazis were defeated and destroyed.
This wasn’t a war they could fight with words alone, despite Churchill’s eloquence in his rousing speeches, but perhaps this was a time to rally Sophie with some good cheer from London.
‘Churchill has said all along that we will win this war, and I believe him. We survived the Blitz and won the Battle of Britain. These were no mean feats. And now America has joined the fight too.’
Sophie was excited by the mention of Churchill and Lizzie wondered what she’d say if she knew she was here on the orders of the man himself.
There had been so many inspiring moments since she joined the SOE, but she thought this might win the top spot.
That she, a young woman from Jersey with no training or experience of espionage prior to the war was now on a Churchill sanctioned mission in occupied France. The very thought of it made her dizzy.
The weight of the responsibility on her shoulders was heavy, but she must not fail. She could not fail.
The Allies were depending on her.
Once Sophie had recovered her composure, they settled down to the business at hand and she brought out boxes to show Lizzie. ‘These are the books they say we must stock. I ordered them to show we are compliant, but I haven’t been able to make myself display them.’
‘Right,’ Lizzie said, picking up a copy of what Jack had told her was the most antisemitic book ever written, The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Her voice was sad. ‘I can understand why.’
‘You’ve heard of it?’ Sophie asked.
Lizzie nodded. ‘I haven’t read it, but my boss told me about it.
He said it contains vile allegations about the Jews that were exposed as lies in Britain, but propagandists posing as journalists use the text to spread and normalise antisemitic conspiracy theories.
It helped the Nazis garner support from ordinary people and turn on the Jews as a scapegoat for their hardships. ’
‘In Judith’s name I refuse to sell it,’ Sophie said.