Page 32 of Shadows In Paris
‘We will most of the time, but for scoping out the German High Command, it’s better they don’t notice their new employee loitering around outside. I change my hair and the way I dress frequently so people don’t remember me.’
This was a whole other side to tradecraft that Lizzie had barely touched on in her training. Lizzie thought nostalgically of the time in Jack’s flat where she had dressed up for him in various disguises and wigs so they could decide what colour to dye her hair. It was Jack who said blonde would be good because she would pass for Hannah’s sister. He hadn’t mentioned the Resistance operative was a master of disguise.
Hannah showed her how to grip her hair close to her head and then styled the wig for her.
Lizzie looked in the mirror at the new woman staring back. ‘It’s incredible how different I look. Much older, for one thing.’
‘It’s the style. The less we draw attention to ourselves, the better. Unless our goal is to distract the Boche on a mission, you must learn not to attract them.’
Lizzie was fascinated. Hannah would be her mentor in developing her skills.
‘Here, wear these too. We’ll be the spectacled, frumpy sisters today.’
Lizzie put the thick frames on her eyes and dissolved into laughter when she saw her reflection. ‘I looksoold. And not a glamorous old, either!’
‘Good, that’s what we want. No one looking at us, no one remembering us, and no one stopping to talk to us. You look perfect. Let’s go.’
Hannah gave Lizzie a suitably dull brown coat and matching hat to wear. Lizzie assessed herself in the full-length hall mirror and saw she blended into the muted décor effortlessly.
Lizzie moved to take the bicycle she had ridden the night before, but Hannah reached to stop her.
‘No, we use different bicycles and baskets for shopping. Never use the same one for a sabotage mission as you do for your ordinary outings.’
Lizzie followed Hannah, who produced a brown bicycle from under an old sheet. It was equally battered, but this one had a straw basket on the front.
‘The devil is in the detail,’ Hannah said.
‘And of course, it’s brown!’ Lizzie laughed.
Five minutes later, they were on their way. The residue of crisp night frost lingered on the country lane, and the sun gleamed in the pale blue sky.
‘It’s hard to believe on a beautiful morning like this that the world has gone to hell, isn’t it?’ Hannah said as they rode side by side, the glacial air rushing into their faces.
It was true. The countryside wasn’t painted in vibrant shades and draped in colourful blooms like in summer, but it had its own austere winter charm. The trees were naked; thebranches stripped bare, and the bark sparkled like delicate spun silk.
They spoke in French and Lizzie practised her Parisian accent. Lizzie remarked she couldn’t detect any German accent in Hannah’s French.
‘That’s just as well, or I’d likely be dead by now. My cover would have been blown. Those lunatics would demand to know what a pious German girl, loyal to the Führer, was doing in Paris in wartime. They expect them to be busy breeding baby Hitlers for the Aryan race. It’s fine for German men to be here, of course, but women should be at home in the Fatherland with their hair in plaits, living a life of the three Ks.’
The contempt in Hannah’s voice was clear.
‘Wait, what are the three Ks?’
‘Kinder, Küche and Kirche!’
‘Hold on, don’t tell me. Give me a second.’ Lizzie stared at Hannah as she pedalled, then scrunched her brow as she sought to translate the words. ‘Children, Kitchen and Church… Is that right?’
‘Exactly. Your accent is good, you know. Do you speak German fluently?’
‘I know enough to get by, but it would need work for me to pass as a native speaker. My mother says I have an ear for languages. I can speak Jersey French too.’
‘German may very well come in useful. Not sure about the Jersey French,’ Hannah said with a wry smile.
‘Jèrriais is the traditional language of the Jersey people. My grandparents think it will die out if they don’t start teaching it to children.’
‘That would be a shame, although I imagine it’s the least of their problems now. If I know anything about the Nazis, they will have already enforced learning German in Jersey schools! They are nothing if not efficient.’
Lizzie hadn’t thought about that, and the sudden vision of the Nazis storming into her childhood parish school made her shudder.
