Page 29 of Whispers At Dawn
Jack looked stunned.
Lizzie saw a deep sadness in Luc’s eyes, as though he were accustomed to hiding it.
The butler appeared with dessert.
Luc shook his head. ‘That’s enough of that. Let’s talk about happier times.’
Lizzie picked up her fork with a little sigh and ate the delicious dessert. Luc told her it was made with apples from the château’s orchard.
She longed to hear more, but it was clear he had said all he was going to say on the matter.
CHAPTER 13
After dinner, the men moved outdoors to smoke and drink. Lizzie accepted Luc’s offer to join them in a glass of Armagnac,and the spicy spirit set her throat on fire, but she rather liked the taste.
‘The war has some minor benefits,’ she mused, as they stood on the terrace, watching the sun sink into the river like an orange ball of fire.
‘And what might they be?’ Luc asked.
‘Women can enjoy after-dinner drinks with the men, and not be banished to another room,’ she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
‘It is proving to be an interesting time for women. I never thought I’d see it, but they’re running many of the factories in France, what with most of the able-bodied men away. Doing a good job too, by all accounts.’
‘It’s the same in Brittany,’ Lizzie replied, practicing her cover story. In less than one year with the SOE, she had already operated under multiple cover names and stories. It could get confusing, so she made a habit of running her fictional life details through her mind at every opportunity.
Luc puffed on his cigar and the acrid smoke lingered in the warm air before swirling away into the darkening night. ‘Talking of which, what happened to you upon the outbreak of war, Michel?’ Luc asked, dropping his already low voice another notch.
‘I wanted to fight, but my heart is weak. I was rejected for conscription. If anyone asks, it should make me less likely to be rounded up and sent off to work at a camp in Germany.’
Lizzie looked alarmed. She hadn’t considered Jack would be targeted for any other reason than if they were found to be agents.
The danger caused her spine to tingle, and anxiety coiled in her stomach. In her enthusiasm for going undercover together, had she underestimated the risks for Jack? Lizzie resolved to be more vigilant and not make any slip-ups. One error could be fatal for them and for Luc, who was harbouring British agents and would be tried for treason if someone discovered the truth.
‘And what have you been doing in Brittany, Michel?’ Luc continued, probing.
‘Until the war, the wine trade was good. Since then, business has slowed because we can only sell to the Germans. All the export trade I managed is obviously impossible now. The business can manage without me, which was why I decided to make myself useful and help you, my dear distant cousin,’ Jack said, smiling wryly.
‘Not bad,’ Luc said. ‘We have work to do to develop your knowledge of the wine business, but it’s a good start. Occasionally, I must host dinner guests, of shall we say, a highly unsavoury nature?’
‘Germans?’ Lizzie asked, her heart pumping. It would take only one officer from a past operation to recognise her, and it would all be over.
They had discussed the potential risks of Lizzie being recognised in pre-mission planning, and Val had concluded they were minimal given they would be in the Vichy region.
Val said, ‘There’s not a chance in hell we’ll send you back to Paris for a while. Reims would be risky enough. We need memories to grow fuzzy, and officers to be posted back to Germany. It’ll take time, so it’s just as well you’re off to Vichy.’
Lizzie wondered whether Hannah had been back to Paris since her last daring operation at German High Command. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had because Hannah didn’t play by the same rules as other people. Lizzie had observed her in action and knew she was fearless.
Lizzie was in no rush to visit occupied France again after what she had done, and was relieved to be deployed somewhere new where no one would know her.
Luc resumed puffing on his cigar and contemplated for a moment before saying, ‘Bureaucrats from the Vichy government, if you can call it that, have been here for dinner several times. The commissaire visits occasionally and brings various guests with him. Last time, he brought a Nazi officer who seemed quite personable. Let’s hope they don’t repeat it, but we shall do well to be prepared in case they do.’
‘They are all quite personable until you cross them,’ Lizzie said, her voice laced with steel.
Luc studied Lizzie for a moment. ‘Yes, you’re right. As I said, we must prepare ourselves for every eventuality. There’s little the Nazis enjoy more than being wined and dined on French fayre and consuming the best our French cellars have to offer. They are drinking Paris dry from what I hear, as well as sending all our best vintages to Germany. Did you know, they changed the Franc exchange rate so they as good as steal our wine even when they make a show of paying for it?’
Lizzie saw the plundering of his country deeply troubled Luc.
By now, the last shards of daylight had disappeared, and the dusky sky twinkled with silverstars. It was a glorious summer night, with only a slight chill in the air, but Lizzie shivered. They’d barely begun their mission, but when she thought about how audacious their plan was it was easy to lose faith in their ability to pull it off and get back to London alive.
