Chapter 39 Lilias
Lilias
They were over France now, moving ever closer to the drop-off point. The noise inside the plane was deafening. Even so, some of the others were attempting to have a conversation; it was the way they dealt with their nerves, Lilias knew that.
The plane had not been designed with comfort in mind. Lilias was wedged thigh to thigh between two large men who were shouting to each other above her head. But Lilias, deep in her thoughts, was unaware of a single word they said.
She could still get out of this. Refuse to jump. Return to Britain—in disgrace, the mission ruined before it had even started—and go back to Hickory Street. Confront Nadine. Take back the daughter that was rightly hers.
Sweat broke out on her face. She closed her eyes, imagining herself speaking to the captain, starting the conversation that would get the ball rolling, but suddenly Nadine’s face filled her mind. Nadine’s expression as she had looked down at the baby in her arms—Lilias’s baby.
Lilias had seen someone gaze down at a baby in that same way before. Her mother, often, of course, as she had suckled Ruth at her breast, examining her child’s tiny feet and hands. And Aunt Sabine.
They’d been staying in France for the summer holidays when Ruth was born. And afterwards, when her mother had been resting, Aunt Sabine had brought the baby out so Lilias could meet her.
“Here, Lilias,” she’d said. “This is your baby sister. Isn’t she a treasure?”
And in the second before Lilias looked down at Ruth for the very first time, she’d looked into her normally very formal aunt’s face, and seen it transformed by love.
Aunt Sabine, whose brains had been dashed out thirty-two years later by a volley of bullets because she’d stolen a loaf of bread to avoid starving to death.
“Right, chaps, this is the place. Everyone on your feet. One last check of your parachutes, please.”
They all stood. Lilias along with them. The hatch opened. In the darkness, she could make out the tracers of enemy antiaircraft fire. Even if she did speak up, jettisoning all of this, there was no guarantee she’d get back to England safely. These days, there was no guarantee of anything.
“Good luck, chaps.”
The first of the group jumped. The second. The third. Now it was her turn.
Lilias stood at the open hatch and thought once again of her aunt’s smile. Then she stepped out into the dark oblivion.