Page 22 of Summer of Fire
Lizzie nodded but remained silent, trying to calm her breathing and do what Val had taught her to prepare herself mentally and physically for jumping from the aircraft.
‘We’re almost in Reims. A few minutes and we’ll be at our low altitude jump point,’ called the pilot.
‘Come back to us, Seagrove,’ Jack whispered in her ear, using the codename he had assigned to her. ‘You can do this.’ His breath tickled her face, and she wished she didn’t have to leave him and throw herself on the mercy of the dark sky below.
Jack slid the helmet onto her head and closed the metal buckle on the leather strap with a click. His hands rested on her head for a brief pause, and she sensed he was reluctant to let her go.
Lizzie’s throat was like sandpaper as she prepared to jump.
Jack reached to clip her strap to the cable overhead in the cabin. ‘Ready?’
She nodded. Her whole body was on high alert, and she could not force a word from her dry throat.
‘Remember, the chute will open as soon as you’re clear and you’ll land in a pasture before you have time to think. You know what to do after that.’ He bowed his head and searched her eyes, as if seeking confirmation that he had made the right choice to send her.
Lizzie was clad from head-to-toe in the thick jumpsuit. Jack opened the aircraft flap. The chill wind rushed in to blast her face and she was grateful for the suit.
He counted down and then shouted, ‘Go!’
Lizzie heard Jack’s voice over the sound of the wind and felt his hand firmly on her back as he gave her a gentle shove. Then she was moving through the air as if in a dream, and his prediction was correct—her chute opened as if by magic. Cold, damp grass lay beneath her fingers as she landed in an ungraceful heap.
Squinting at the moonlit horizon, she saw the aircraft retreat and heard the engine’s distant whirr until it was a mere whisper on the wind.
She was on her own. Lizzie looked around. Adrenaline spiked her veins and coursed through her, and she knew she must harness it and get into action immediately. Her training kicked in and she stood, gathering the parachute, and folding it as neatly as she could with slightly shaking hands.
Breathe, Lizzie. Breathe.
An image of a circle of Nazis in jackboots, shoutingHeil Hitler, and closing in on her, reared up in her imagination and she shook her head briskly. She remembered what Val had said:Don’t let fear rule you. You must think on your feet.
And with that, Lizzie bent down to pat one of her pockets and withdrew the small torch so she could find a suitable spot to bury her gear in the trees.
Her first task completed behind enemy lines, she ran out of the pasture and set off in search of the cottage where she was to seek shelter.
Stumbling through the dark lanes near the vineyards, she was guided only by the light of the moon, and she jumped when an owl hooted from the branch of a tree high above. All was quiet but for the nocturnal wildlife.
Lizzie had memorised the directions to reach the cottage, which was a fair distance, and she made good progress. Jack had explained it wouldn’t do to have a safe house too near the landing point.
When she finally entered a clearing, and the light from her torch revealed an old stone well, she was almost certain she had reached her destination. She swept the beam cautiously onto the base of the cottage door and saw it was blue. The traditional stone cottage with brown shutters was all in darkness for the blackout.
Yes. This was the right place. The jagged beat of her heart slowed to a steady thud as she took cover in an old hut to one side of the property. Her eyes adjusted to the inky blackness as she breathed in the cool night air and tried to calm herself. Val had told her to wait a while before she approached the cottage and to make sure no one else was around before she knocked.
She checked her watch and saw fifteen minutes had passed. Lizzie walked tentatively around to the side of the building, holding her torch low so she could see where she was stepping, but not alert anyone to her presence. She tripped over a clump of twigs and sent a stone hurtling down the uneven path and froze as she waited for it to stop bouncing.
‘Merde,’she gasped.
The side door opened a crack just as she approached it. ‘Who goes there?’ said a woman’s husky voice.
‘I’m Marie. A friend of your sister’s.’ Lizzie had rehearsed the safe house code many times, and it rolled off her tongue without hesitation.
The door opened wider, and the woman ushered her in. Lizzie could just about make out she wore a nightgown.
‘Come in,’ the woman said, her voice slightly louder but still not much more than a hoarse whisper. ‘I wasn’t told to expect anyone,’ she said, after Lizzie followed her inside.
‘How did you know I was outside, then?’ Lizzie asked.
The woman chuckled quietly. ‘Let’s just say, your silent approach needs some work, and it’s a good job there isn’t another cottage nearby.’
Lizzie apologised for kicking the stone and alarming her. ‘It’s kind of you to allow me to come here like this.’
