Page 82 of Summer of Fire
Camille clasped Lizzie’s hand once more and rose from the table. ‘Go safely. I will wait for Jack in case he shows up, and I will tell him you waited as long as you could.’
Lizzie pushed back the tears. ‘Thank you, Camille. Thank you, Pierre.’
Pierre said, ‘Where did you say you left the general?’
‘In a dark alley around the corner from the hotel.’
‘Right, well, no matter how dark, it’s only a matter of time before they look for him. Even the dim-witted Gestapo thugs will put two and two together and realise it’s no coincidence that he went missing on the night of the airfield attack. Did they see you leave together?’
‘I don’t think anyone saw us on the way out, but I can’t be sure.’
‘We must get you out of here fast. You did what you had to do,’ he said, patting her shoulder. ‘Don’t dwell on it.’
‘You are a good man, Pierre. I will never forget all you have both done for me.’
Lizzie hugged Camille again and then they left in Pierre’s van, the wheels rumbling over the track that snaked through the farm to the pickup point.
The darkness was cool and dense, like silk gliding over Lizzie’s arms. The only light was from the faint glow of a partially clouded watery moon. They waited, perfectly still, not speaking. The night was silent apart from the buzz of insects in the tall thicket of trees surrounding the pasture.
The tension was tangible. An ambush could be waiting, and they wouldn’t know until it was too late.
Lizzie was torn between wishing she was already up in the sky on her way back to England, and wishing she could return to the homely farmhouse with Pierre and wait for Jack.
She rubbed her bare arms and shivered as the wind whipped up. Then they heard a whirr in the distance that grew steadily louder.
‘Here they are,’ said Pierre, brandishing his torch and casting a trail of light for the aircraft.
The plane flew low over the middle of the pasture before gradually skidding to a stop near to where they stood.
Lizzie reached over to kiss Pierre’s cheek. ‘Thank you again. Take care.’
‘Have a safe flight home. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.’
Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of Jack hiding from Nazi search parties.
‘Pierre?’
He raised his head to look at her.
‘Please tell Jack I’m thinking of him.’
The words were not enough, but they were all she had.
‘Jack’s a survivor.’ Pierre squeezed her shoulder gently and then hurried to stash the supplies in his van.
Lizzie forced one foot in front of the other and boarded the plane like she was walking to the gallows. Her chest heaved with the conflicting emotions rippling through her, and for a few seconds, she seriously considered jumping off the plane before it took off.
But that would be foolish, and Jack wouldn’t thank her for it. The pilot and his navigator had risked their lives to land in enemy occupied territory to pick her up, and she must follow her orders no matter how much it hurt.
As the aircraft bumped along the ground, gaining speed, the force of the take-off jostled her from side to side. Then the wheels lifted into the night sky and Reims faded into the distance.
She slumped against the cold seat, utterly lost.
Her heart had been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
She had made it out alive.
But where was Jack?
