Page 1 of Shadows In Paris
CHAPTER 1
London, January 1941
Lizzie Beaumont burrowed her hands deep into the pockets of her winter coat as the icy winds swirled around her and she made her way towards the Special Operations Executive HQ on Baker Street.
‘Cold enough for you, miss?’ asked the rosy-cheeked door attendant as she passed him and entered the building.
‘It certainly is.’ Lizzie flashed him a smile as she unbuttoned her coat and slipped it off her shoulders to reveal her new khaki uniform.
Val, Lizzie’s mentor, had surprised her the previous evening with the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry uniform. ‘Now you’re an official FANY, you’d better start dressing like one.’
The sight of the pressed uniform draped over her chair had startled Lizzie. ‘I thought the FANY rank was only for cover. I didn’t realise I’d need a uniform like a real soldier.’
Val looked amused. ‘It is for cover. Go and change. Let’s see you in all your glory.’
Lizzie ran her fingers down the starched material of her jacket and straightened her tie. The expression on her mother’s face the previous evening when she arrived back at the house in Regent’s Park wearing her new uniform was priceless.
‘What the dickens?’ Rose said, her mouth falling open in surprise.
The uniform had a similar effect on her father and sisters, and they teased her again relentlessly at breakfast.
Val looked up from her desk when Lizzie knocked and entered her office.
‘Good morning. It really suits you,’ she said, her warm smile reaching her eyes.
Lizzie knew she was lucky to have Val as her mentor and had grown very fond of her since she’d been assigned as her assistant.
‘Thank you. Where do you want me today?’
‘Jack will run through your coding and radio operation training with you.’
Lizzie tried to suppress it, but her face flushed slightly at the mention of her commanding officer, Jack King. Val turned her attention back to the papers on her desk and Lizzie hoped she hadn’t noticed her young assistant’s hot cheeks. Even after months of working closely with Jack, she still found it difficult to act as though there was nothing intimate between them. Fortunately, Val and the others in the secret organisation set up the previous year to wreak chaos in Nazi-occupied territories, seemed to have no inkling they were involved. Jack said they were all far too busy juggling their workload and dodging Blitz bombs to notice what was going on right under their noses.
‘Right, that’s good. No matter how much they drilled thecoding into my head at Bletchley Park, I’m still not sure I fully grasped it. Do you know where I’m to meet him?’ Lizzie asked.
Val nodded as she sharpened her pencil. ‘Yes, he said he’d be waiting for you in the new cipher room.’
With that, Lizzie was dismissed and hurried out of Val’s office, the chill of winter already forgotten.
Jack stood behind his desk when she entered the room, and she saw the appreciation on his face as he cast his dark eyes over her.
He let out a long, low whistle. ‘Well, well, just look at you. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Seagrove!’
Lizzie closed the door swiftly behind her, twirled around, and gave a quick bow.
Jack beckoned her to come closer as he moved from behind the desk, his arms reaching towards her. He was tall and well-built, and he towered over her as he enveloped her in his warm embrace. She tilted her chin upwards. His lips brushed hers, and she tingled from head to toe. He could still do that to her with a mere touch.
‘Now we’re both in uniform,’ she said from within the safety of his arms, peering into his amused face. ‘You look so dashing in yours, I bet the girls are swooning all the way down Baker Street when you go out.’
Jack laughed. ‘I wear my overcoat in this weather, and I can assure you there’s been no swooning.’
Lizzie touched his face and ran her fingers over his angular cheekbone. ‘You look so handsome, I find that hard to believe, Captain King.’
Upon the successful completion of their mission in Reims the previous year, he had been officially promoted to captain and now wore his uniform to deflect questions about the nature of his covert work.
Jack pulled out a chair for Lizzie and she sat down. Thenhe poured her some coffee just how she liked it, and he joined her at the desk. Their knees touched as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of a nearby file.
‘How was Bletchley?’ he asked, his eyes searching hers. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.’
