Page 15 of Whispers At Dawn
The clothing was similar to that which she had worn on her virgin mission to Reims the previous summer. The weather would be hot in the South of France in June, and she wore a pale summer dress beneath her summer raincoat. In the early hours of the morning, in a windy airfield in Bedfordshire, it was chilly, and she shivered, partly with cold and partly from apprehension.
Lizzy spotted the pilot entering the cockpit of the Westland Lysander, and her stomach was ablaze with nerves as she looked over at Jack.
‘There’s our Lizzie,’ Jack said as he crossed to her side, and pointed to the plane.
Lizzie was always too nervous to appreciate the significance of the Lysander aircraft’s nickname, but Jack found it amusing.
‘Shall we?’ he said, taking her mug and placing it on a small table in the hut.
Lizzie straightened her back and drew herself up to her full height. Her stomach and chest tingled, and the adrenaline rushed through her body. ‘No time like the present,’ she said. In her experience, the sooner she boarded, the better. Standing there thinking about the danger they were about to face would only increase the fear that had already gripped her.
The sergeantaccompanied them to the aircraft, where the navigator awaited them and welcomed them aboard, introducing them to the pilot, who called out a friendly hello.
‘Alright?’ Jack asked once they settled into their seats.
Lizzie nodded. ‘Usually, we’d have said goodbye by now and I’d be sitting here pining for you and wishing I didn’t have to leave you.’
Jack reached for Lizzie’s hand. ‘And now you don’t. We’re together all the way, Madame Dubois.’
Lizzie’s eyes glowed with unshed tears. Her emotions were in a tangle, in a mix of terror at what they were about to do, and an intense wave of love for Jack and gratitude that they would face this mission together as husband and wife. It was a surreal adventure, and she squeezed his hand in return and felt the warmth of his fingers cradle hers.
Madame Dubois.She let her mind wander. What would it be like after the war to be Mrs King? Would they be blessed with children? She hoped so. Then her thoughts flickered back to the young boy lying dead on the ground after the night when hell and brimstone rained down on them. She thought of his parents sobbing and remembered the child’s name.
Lizzie raised her chin, and fear lessened its grip on her as the memory of Joey filled her mind. If they didn’t win this war, it would be far worse in the future. Her colourful imagination painted a future of Hitler and his Nazi mob marching into London. Britain had succeeded in seeing the Boche off in the Battle of Britain, and Hitler had abandoned his invasion plans. The Blitz had taken its toll, but the British people’s spirit was strong.
‘Safe trip, Seagrove,’ Jack whispered in her ear.
The engines roared as they waited for take-off.
‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Jack said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a ball of material like a magician and unfurling it across Lizzie’s lap. ‘Voila!’
She gasped and her fingers caressed the soft material. ‘My lucky yellow scarf! Oh, my goodness, this is wonderful.’
Jack styled the scarf around her neck. ‘There, that’s where it belongs.’
‘But how on earth did you get it back?’
‘I did a bit of digging and called in a favour from a fellow in props.’
Lizzie turned to Jack and flung her arms around him. ‘Thank you! That was so thoughtful, and I love it.’ Her eyes shone as she stared up at him and they drew apart just as the navigator reappeared.
‘We’re going undercover as husband and wife,’ Jack said. ‘Practicing so we don’t stand out like a sore thumb.’
The navigator inclined his head. ‘Best of luck to you, Captain. I hope to have the honour of bringing you both home.’
The navigator returned to his seat, and they were left alone once more. The fuselage was cold, and Lizzie rubbed her arms.
Jack reached down and produced a big wad of padded material. ‘Put this over you. The flight will be longer than to northern France, so you can sleep a bit if you want.’
Jack smiled into Lizzie’s eyes as he covered her with the jumpsuit. ‘I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get into our gear. No point doing it for a while yet. You’ll be more comfortable like this.’
The plane shuddered and groaned as it lifted off the ground, and soon they were airborne. As the tiny aircraft braved the dark sky, transporting its indomitable team, Lizzie looked out the window. The whole country was under blackout, so she could only make out a few sporadic lights in the distance. She was in awe of the pilots and crews who flew into enemy territory as a routine part of their job.
Lizzie was terrified when she had to parachute in, and months passed between missions. The RAF stared death in the face every day, and as the plane darted over England towards the North Sea, Lizzie thought of Jack’s brother Henry and prayedhe was safe. Her thoughts inevitably turned to Hannah, who was Henry’s fiancée, and her trusted friend and partner in the French Resistance.
Lizzie couldn’t drift off to sleep, she was far too on edge, but she kept her eyes closed and relished the feel of Jack’s hand on hers as she rested. Usually, she felt so alone as she waited for the moment when she must say goodbye to her one connection to Britain and launch herself into the French skies.
The navigator called out to them when they were thirty minutes from the drop zone.
