Page 30 of Summer of Fire
Lizzie pulled the big map out of the drawer. Jeanne had shown it to her the other day when she explained which way to walk into the city. Reims was famous for its vineyards. In happier times, it was a popular place to visit.
Now, with German soldiers marching through the city, lording it over the grand estates, and Gestapo lurking in black cars on every corner, Lizzie had a bitter taste in her mouth. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe France—and Jersey—had fallen to the Nazis. It was like an evil parallel reality.
Once the invasion began, it had all collapsed as quickly as a house of cards. After months of what people called the Phoney War, where nothing seemed to happen, the Nazis stormed into Paris, crushing the French army.
During one of her conversations with Jack in between her training sessions, he explained that Germany had been preparing for this war for years before the Allies realised their intentions. Germany wasn’t even supposed to be armed according to the Treaty of Versailles, but Hitler paid no attention to that and steadily built his war machine right under its WW1 opponents’ noses.
Jack went on to say, that how they persecuted the Jews in Germany in the thirties, should have been a sign to the rest of Europe to act whilst they still could. But no one wanted another war so soon after the last. They buried their heads in the sand, hoping that the whispers from Germany weren’t true.
Hitler blamed the Jews for all the ills that had befallenGermany after the Great War. He whipped the country into a frenzy of bigotry and hatred, harnessing ancient antisemitic tropes which cast the Jews in the role of the villain.
Many Jews were born in Germany and were loyal citizens who were successful in business and contributed significantly to the economy. Hannah’s family—the Steins—was one of them, until they were arrested. That’s when Hannah went into hiding and joined the early seeds of Resistance, helping persecuted people in danger of arrest by the Gestapo, to flee Germany and get to safety through various routes.
All this went through Lizzie’s head as she sipped her tea. She fervently hoped Hannah was alive and well. It would be a tragedy if after all the poor girl’s efforts she had been murdered.
Lizzie jumped at the sound of someone moving around outside. She had locked the door just as Jeanne had told her to and she was only to open it if Jeanne knocked twice.
No knocks so far.
Lizzie grabbed her knife and dropped to the floor in case anyone looked through the window. Her heart thumped violently as she crouched under the table, clutching the knife, and praying she wouldn’t have to use it.
There were two swift knocks, and Lizzie breathed again. Her shaking hand slipped the knife back into the pocket sewn into the lining of her raincoat that lay over the chair. She unlocked the door to see Jeanne waiting outside.
‘Did I scare you?’ Jeanne said. ‘I tried not to make any noise before knocking, but my bicycle slipped against the wall!’
‘I jumped out of my skin and was ready to attack you,’ Lizzie confessed.
They both laughed with obvious relief. Lizzie madeJeanne a cup of tea, and they shared a small piece of delicious apple cake one of Jeanne’s friends had given to her.
After curfew when the blackout blinds were firmly in place, and darkness had fallen, Jeanne surprised Lizzie by rolling aside the beautiful Bordeaux patterned rug in the sitting room where they sat after their meagre supper. Lizzie was reading a book about the cathedral and studying images of the interior, when Jeanne removed one of the wood floor slats and produced a radio as though she were a magician.
Lizzie sprang out of her seat and jumped up and down with excitement. ‘You didn’t say you had a radio!’ she whispered, even though they had no neighbours to overhear.
Jeanne beamed at her. ‘The Nazis confiscated all radios when they invaded, but fortunately I had two and I hid one for emergencies. I only get it out occasionally as it’s too risky.’
Jeanne twiddled the knob and Lizzie sneezed as dust tickled her nostrils. For one hopeful second, she had thought she might be able to transmit a message to SOE, but she saw it was only a receiver.
Churchill’s distinctive voice echoed over the airwaves.
“Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”
They listened, transfixed, not wanting to miss a word. The BBC broadcaster replayed the headlines of Churchill’s moving speech to the House of Commons, where he thanked the Allied aircrew for their valiant defence of the United Kingdom.
That night Lizzie was again too nervous to sleep as she tried to stop thinking about the rendezvous in the cathedral the following day. When she fell asleep, she dreamt she was eating apple cake and drinking champagne with Jack. The war was over, and they walked hand in hand on the golden sands below Seagrove.
Then the blissful feeling morphed into a nightmare as the Gestapo hurtled towards them in trucks along the beach.
Lizzie woke, her skin damp with sweat and her heart banging with terror as the pale light of dawn gradually seeped through the blinds.
CHAPTER 15
Jeanne didn’t need her bicycle and told Lizzie she could borrow it for her cathedral rendezvous.
‘Remember, don’t tell her anything you don’t have to,’ said Jeanne. ‘That’s the sure-fire way to get yourself killed.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘Don’t worry. They taught me that in training. I’ll hold my tongue.’
Jeanne frowned. ‘I wish I could go with you. The idea of you doing this alone is worrying.’
