Chapter 4
Lizzie went to find Jack on her lunch break, and they ate together in the canteen.
‘I never tire of looking at you,’ Jack said after they finished, and he leant back in the hard chair and lit a cigarette, his eyes still on Lizzie.
She smiled and reached for his hand. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say, darling. I’m going to miss you so much.’
‘By the way, you’re not the only one who’s being posted on a mission,’ Jack said, raising one eyebrow, his voice dropping an octave.
‘Oh? Where are you going?’ An expression of concern settled onto Lizzie’s face, and panic rattled through her, but she kept her voice calm. ‘Not somewhere dangerous, I hope.’
Jack shook his head and tapped the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray. ‘Not at all. I was rather pleased when Val told me the news. It’ll be good to have a change of scene when you’re away. I hate being here when you’re gone.’
Lizzie breathed again as the sudden panic ebbed away. ‘Goodness, well, don’t keep me in suspense any longer! Where on earth did Val post you? Not back to the Highlands?’
‘No, no. Much closer to home,’ he said, teasing her with his eyes and maintaining the air of mystery.
Relief washed over her. ‘I was worried for a minute that you were going back into France.’
‘If only … those were the days,’ Jack said, extinguishing his cigarette and standing. ‘Come on, let’s go outside and get some air. Can’t talk here.’
‘I have to go back into the training session soon, but I can pop out for a few minutes.’
They walked along Baker Street, passing what was officially Marks & Spencer's department store headquarters a few doors down, but that served as a cover to expand the SOE.
The secret organisation had gradually spread and taken over several floors.
They talked in hushed tones as they passed the building, the faint winter sun caressing their faces.
By the time they reached the bombed-out old Bazaar near Dorset Street, which now served as a car park, Jack had told Lizzie he would be based at Bletchley Park after she left for Switzerland.
Lizzie’s eyes scanned the American military vehicles as she absorbed the news. ‘Not permanently?’ she said, and she heard the trace of fear in her voice.
Jack captured her hand, and they continued walking. ‘Of course not. As Johnson famously said: when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life … I’m a Londoner in my bones and don’t like to be away for long.’
‘What about your French bones?’ Lizzie said with a mischievous twinkle.
‘I adore France, or at least I did before the Nazis stamped all over her, but London will always hold my heart.’
‘I thought we discussed that after the war we might move to Jersey.’
Jack paused and turned to her. ‘That’s true. We did. And there’s only one thing I love more than London.’
‘Oh yes, and what’s that?’ Lizzie peered up at him, her hand still in his.
‘You, of course. Wherever you go, I will go. Don’t you know that by now?’
Lizzie’s eyes shone, and his declaration of deep love lit up her whole being. ‘I do know that. You never give me cause for doubt. If you want to live in London after the war, I can think of far worse things. And we can travel to all our favourite parts of France and visit Jersey often.’
Jack released a sigh. ‘What a fine thing that will be. A liberated France and Jersey where we can come and go as we please and visit all our friends and family.’
‘How I yearn for that day,’ Lizzie said. ‘It seems almost like a fairy tale.’
Jack brushed his thumb softly across her cheek.
‘It is a fairy tale that we must make come true through sheer bloody stubbornness to allow any other outcome. There is no other choice. We must win this war, and we will win this war. Your Bern posting may not be dangerous in the usual sense, but make no mistake, it is still critical. There is a secret battleground of spies just as important as the battlefield our men are fighting on for their lives, and you’ll be in the midst of it.
If you can dig up the evidence Churchill is asking for, to prove the Swiss are helping fund the war by collaborating through their banks and factories with the Nazis, that alone will hasten the end of the war. ’
They resumed walking, and Lizzie’s expression was sombre. ‘No pressure then!’
Jack laughed and rested his arm around her shoulders.
‘As usual, absolutely no pressure at all, Seagrove. And there’s no one more suited for this diplomatic spycraft than you.
As far as my Bletchley posting goes, it will probably be just for a few months, or until I can sort out the problems between us and the SIS. ’
At the Victorian underground entrance of Baker Street station, they turned to retrace their steps. ‘We’d better get you back.’
‘What problems? Can you tell me or …?’ Lizzie’s voice tailed off as she looked up at him.
‘There’s not much to tell at this stage. Val wants me to sort out the intelligence pipeline between us and Bletchley. It’s dire as you know.’
Lizzie knew only too well from their frustrations in trying to get the intelligence they needed to protect their people in France. ‘They think we’re amateurs and constantly hold back intelligence when we most need it.’
Jack nodded. ‘That about sums it up. They’re endangering our agents, and it can’t continue. The boss has given me orders to tackle them head-on, and Val selected yours truly for the unpleasant task.’
Lizzie leaned closer to Jack, and their sides brushed as they paused in the street, each wanting to prolong their time together but knowing they must go back to work.
‘And there’s no finer man for the job,’ Lizzie said, her lips curving into a wide smile.
Jack bent to kiss her. ‘Sod it. Let the gossips talk. I intend to kiss my fiancée whenever I wish.’
Lizzie looped her arm through his, her heart full of joy as he escorted her back to the training room.
‘See you this evening?’ he said.
‘You can count on it. I’ll need a large glass of wine after another intensive session of Swiss Finishing School.’