Page 9 of Whispers At Dawn
‘Let’s rest him here,’ the fireman wheezed, doing his best to keep her at arm's length.
‘My Joey,’ the mother sobbed, reaching to clutch at her son, but the fireman stopped her again.
‘We need a doctor here,’ he shouted over the crackling and hissing of the fire, his voice croaky but loud enough to be heard by the medical team.
Lizzie stared at the small unmoving body of the boy on the small patch of grass. His body didn’t look injured, but he lay there in his pyjamas as if in a heavy slumber. She desperately hoped she was wrong, but she feared he wasn’t breathing. His sooty face bore a peaceful expression.
‘Joey, wake up,’ sobbed his mother uncontrollably, fighting to reach him. ‘Wake up, please.’
They were shuffled out of the way, and a nurse leaned over the boy and worked on him frantically, checking for signs of life. By now, the mother was crying hysterically in Lizzie’s arms and all she could do was keep her upright as she sobbed on her shoulder.
The nurse caught Lizzie’s eye and shook her head slowly, her eyes full of heartbreak. The boy was dead.
Jack appeared at Lizzie’s shoulder and looked at her questioningly over the woman’s head. Lizzie moved her chin towards the small inert body on the ground. Jack’s eyes met hers in silent understanding just as the woman called out, ‘I want to see Joey. Let me see my Joey.’
Lizzie felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see a dishevelled looking giant of a man, his shirt torn, and his clothes covered in soot. Tears trickled onto his dirty cheeks.
‘I’m Joey’s father.’
Lizzie disentangled herself from the distraught woman and gently transferred her weight to her husband’s arms. Then she stood there helplessly, tears streaming down her face, watching them as they clung to each other, rocking back and forth in a desperate lament for the young son they had lost to this devastating night of the Blitz.
CHAPTER 5
Several weeks had passed since that terrible night when Lizzie and Jack stumbled home in a daze through the smoke-filled streets with rage in their hearts.
Thankfully, the members of the Beaumont and King households had reached shelter in time, but others weren’t so lucky. Many lost their homes, and over 1400 their lives, in the latest devastating raid of the London Blitz.
The night of the London bombing reinforced Lizzie’s commitment to destroy the Nazis and dismantle their murderous regime. It was a timely and shocking reminder of why they risked everything to go on dangerous missions.
The Germans had struck at the heart of government. Westminster Palace had been hit by incendiary bombs and by morning all that remained of the Commons Chamber were smoking ruins.
Fortunately, recent weeks had been quiet with no major raids, and there were cautious whispers they had reached the end of eight months of the Blitz. Intelligence reports confirmed the Luftwaffe was preparing to invade Russia.
Lizzie and Jack were in his office getting organised for the impending mission when Drake, Lizzie’s former boss from the War Office, arrived.
‘Lizzie, it’s been too long. How are you, dear girl? I can’t tell you how good it is to see you alive and well with my own eyes.’
Lizzie rose from her chair and shook Drake’s hand. ‘Thank you, sir. It’s good to see you, too.’
‘Did this rogue here pass on my regards? I tried to check in on you several times after you transferred, but it was never the right time.’
Drake dropped into the seat Jack pulled out for him after they all exchanged pleasantries, and he immediately lit his pipe. Drake was one of Jack’s favourite people. He’d always had a lot of time for Drake, but he was even more grateful to his old mentor for introducing him to Lizzie.
Drake dragged on his pipe and looked from one to the other expectantly. ‘So, to what do I owe the honour of being summoned to this noble establishment?’
Jack usually made a point of meeting Drake for a drink at The Ritz, which buzzed with London’s elite and was affectionately dubbed, Blitz at the Ritz. Drake used to drop into Jack’s old flat unannounced, but Jack had actively discouraged him from visiting his new place, so there would be no risk he’d show up and find Lizzie there. They’d agreed that would be mortifying for all of them, so regular meetings at The Ritz were the norm.
The SOE kept the circle tight and even new recruits weren’t allowed in the HQ building anymore. As a founding member, Lizzie was fortunate to be considered one of the inner circle, and to have Val’s ear. It helped she was her personal assistant, but even so, she realised it was an honour.
Jack said, ‘You were in right at the beginning, Seagrove. It accords some special privileges. The newbies are based in a flat around the corner.’
‘Like when Drake brought me to meet you,’ Lizzie replied, thinking back to the first time she saw Jack. It often struck her how easily her life could have taken a completely different course if it weren’t for that day. If Drake hadn’t identified her as suitable agent material, and she hadn’t been intrigued enough to accept his unusual invitation, she would probably still be translating mundane documents at the War Office, weathering the war best she could, without any means to do something more significant to defend Britain.
Jack told her after they moved to Baker Street from St. Ermin’s Hotel, there were some leaks because they were too complacent about who came and went. They had to introduce stricter protocols.
The SOE had grown exponentially since Lizzie’s first day, both with networks in the field overseas and agents on home soil.
Lizzie’s attention snapped back to the present as Drake fixed his stare on Jack, waiting to hear why he had been called in.
