Page 5 of Shadows In Paris
‘Raven to Seagrove,’ Jack said, snapping her attention back to the present. ‘Shall we settle up and head off to my place?’
Lizzie tilted her head and smiled at Jack. ‘Yes, darling. Let’s go I told Ma and Pa I’m working the night shift. I hope that’s alright with you?’
‘You never have to ask. You know that. I hate sleeping without you.’
They walked arm in arm, coat collars up, against the bitter January cold.
Jack had moved flat. Now HQ was in Baker Street, it made sense to live closer. Lizzie conveniently lived at Regent’s Park, which was within walking distance. They hopped off the Underground and then approached his door as he fumbled in his pocket for the key, and they entered.
He pulled the blackout curtain and lit some candles thatwere positioned strategically around the front room. ‘We could work on the decoding, and you would become indispensable here in London. The powers that be were saying we can’t keep relying on Bletchley for everything. We need to get our cipher room fully functioning to support all the new networks. It’s vital so we can speed up the turnaround of the messaging.’
The emotions rolled through Lizzie as Jack helped her shed her coat, and she shivered in the chilly flat. She knew Jack was doing all he could to convince her not to go because he was afraid for her, and she loved him for it. Part of her wished she didn’t need to go, but she must do her duty, or she was certain she would regret it forever.
Their feelings for each other had been intense since the previous summer and there were still days when she couldn’t quite believe how it had all fallen into place for them. They managed to see each other most days, even if their time alone was fleeting. She didn’t want to imagine what it would be like without him in her life.
Jack lit a fire and threw some wood onto the crackling flames.
‘Come closer,’ he said, sliding his arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. ‘This should warm you up in no time.’
He went to put the kettle on, and it wasn’t long before they were sitting beside the roaring fire, drinking piping hot tea.
‘Better now?’ he asked.
Lizzie nodded gratefully. ‘Much. I’m not used to these freezing winters. Jersey is milder than this.’
‘I heard it’s freezing in Paris too,’ Jack said pointedly.
‘I had better get used to it quickly then,’ Lizzie said, placing her cup on the small table and rubbing her hands together in front of the orange flames. ‘Sitting like this reminds me of Seagrove,’ she said.
‘Any word from your grandparents?’
Lizzie felt the panic rise in her throat. ‘Nothing yet.’
‘Those blasted Jerries,’ Jack cursed. He rose from the chair. ‘Chin up, beautiful. I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. Come on, I’ve got some stuff for you to try on.’
Jack drew her to her feet, and she followed him into the bedroom where she saw disguise props laid out all over the bedspread.
‘You have been busy,’ she said. ‘I can always trust you not to do things in halves.’
‘Here, try this, for starters.’
Lizzie placed the blonde wig on her head, tucking her hair in until no brunette strands swept over her shoulders. ‘How do I look?’ she said, posing for Jack, hands on hips and pursing her red lips provocatively.
‘Good enough to eat,’ Jack said. ‘Come here, blondie.’
Lizzie laughed but pressed her hands against his hard chest. ‘No, let me try on a few more things first. I think going to France in disguise is the answer.’
Jack passed her more props and soon she was modelling different styled wigs and glasses with a variety of frames.
Jack stood back and assessed every look. ‘You can pass as a blonde easily if we lighten your eyebrows, but the wigs aren’t ideal for longer missions.’
‘Oh? Why did you bring them then?’ Lizzie asked, disappointment showing on her face, curving her lips into a pout.
‘Because they allow us to see what works, and then you can dye and style your hair for a similar look.’
‘Why not just wear a wig?’ she asked.
‘It’s a dead giveaway if you’re caught and questioned. The first thing the Gestapo would do is undress you and examine your clothes and possessions. If they realise it’s a wig, it screams disguise and enemy agent.’
