Page 36 of Whispers At Dawn
Lizzie’s voice was tender. ‘Nothing will make me happier than the day we officially marry, and I can shout out how much I love you to all the world.’
Undeterred, Jack tried again. ‘Seagrove, let me take you to the outskirts of the city by car. I can shove the bicycle in the back, and you can ride alone from there.’
Lizzie looked at him, her eyes dancing.
‘You went off this morning, and I didn’t stop you, did I?’
‘That’s different. I was just learning the business in the vineyards with Luc, and besides, you know it’s different for men. It’s true you might attract more sympathy as a woman alone, but you also risk attracting the wrong kind of attention. When I think back to how close I was to losing you in Reims, it terrifies me.’
‘I’ve grown wiser and tougher since then. I promise at the first hint of danger, I’ll leave. All I’m going to do is watch and listen and cultivate new contacts. That’s the only way I know how to do this.’
Jack sighed. ‘Remember, there’s also the fellow from the café last night. I arranged to meet him again today.’
‘I know, and maybe he’ll be able to help us set up the escape route for the airmen, but I don’t think we should rely on one man we know nothing about. He could just as likely be a Vichy sympathiser pretending to be against them to fool resistors into revealing their plans.’
Jack kissed Lizzie and she could tell he was resigned to her going. ‘All good points. What a suspicious nature you have, my darling wife.’
Lizzie laughed. ‘We’ll broaden our opportunities if we go separately and get into conversation with different people.’
‘Don’t worry about Lev. I will check him out further before revealing any information. I see you are determined to make this solo outing, so I must let you. Take care, Seagrove, and I’ll see you back here when we’re both finished.’
Jack waved to Lizzie as she set off and quickly found her balance on the old bicycle. She waved back and blew him a kiss before turning the corner and pedalling across the courtyard and out of the château grounds. As she picked up speed, adrenaline flooded through her body, and she felt the thrill of being alive. She raced down the hill, the breathtaking vista spread before her and the sun scorching her arms. There was such freedom in riding a bicycle and she thought of Jersey and how she used to cycle into St. Helier to do errands and visit her Pa at his office.
Lizzie felt at home on a bicycle, and memories of her previous adventures filled her mind as she approached the city on the banks of the Garonne.
Living with Jack as his wife was a fantasy come true, but she couldn’t let herself lose sight of why they had been posted here. Her gut told her she must also operate alone, and she would follow her instincts, just as Jack had advised her in her initial training.
CHAPTER 17
Lizzie propped her bicycle against a fence near a bush and hoped it would still be there when she returned. By now, the sun was high in the blue sky, but the city was busy despite the early afternoon heat.
War seemed to have overshadowed even the local’s proclivity for a long lunch, although most wouldn’t have the rations to indulge in a leisurely meal.
The housekeeper had warned her to hurry to get a place in the queue because it was already later than she usually shopped. As Lizzie walked, she admired the pale green dome on the pink building in the distance, sparkling in the sunshine on the left bank of the river. When she had asked Luc what it was, he told them it was the historic hospital in the Saint-Cyprien quarter.
There were so many places she had never visited in France, despite her competence in the language and knowledge of the culture. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she soaked up the picturesque view. She regretted taking freedom for granted, as if it was her natural right and no one could ever take it away.
How naive she had been as a young girl in Jersey, assuming life would always be the same and she would swim at Portelet Bay every morning from their beautiful house, Seagrove. Theyhad been lucky to escape before the Germans invaded. Now she pondered whether the islanders were permitted to swim in the sea since the occupation.
An image of her grandparents’ faces loomed in her mind. They had received a brief message from them before Christmas, but communications were censored, so it said nothing about what life was like on the island. Her father had sent another message more recently, but they hadn’t heard yet. She tried not to dwell on the fact that her grandparents were trapped by the Nazis, but when she went undercover in France, the reality of Jersey being under their control hit her afresh.
The view from her family home rivalled the stunning view before her, and she yearned to travel back in time and swim in the bay as the sun ushered in a new day and the Martello Tower stood over her like a reliable old friend.
Lizzie brought her focus back to the present. She was supposed to be spying, not daydreaming. She crossed a small square and turned down a narrow-cobbled street that sloped gently downhill, carefully following Suzanne’s directions.
On her way, she noticed a quaint bookshop to her right, and wondered how a bookshop could survive a long war like this. Lizzie loved to read, but she guessed that in these frugal times, buying a new book would be a frivolous luxury, not an essential covered by the household budget. In London, her mother frequented the library and shared her books with Lizzie, who was the most avid reader of her sisters. Not that she had much time for reading anything other than intelligence reports these days, and often her eyes would close as she read a few pages in bed at night. The book would tumble onto the floor, before she turned her bedside light out.
There was no time to browse in the bookshop, and with regret she pushed on, not lingering to look in its windows, but catching sight of a few exquisitely bound French editions.
Lizzie resumed walking until she reached a row of small shops. Three of which looked abandoned, the windows grimy, and remnants of faded graffiti on the doors. Curiosity propelled Lizzie closer to read the scrawl. On one door it said:Jews go back to Palestine,and on the next:Zionists leave France.On the windows there were antisemitic posters of hook-nosed Jews crudely depicted as controlling the world. Lizzie continued past the shops; her mood becoming gloomy.
A few days earlier, she read in a French newspaper that the Vichy government had freely adoptedAryanization, a term Hannah had explained to her meant the systematic stripping and seizure of property owned by Jews and its transfer to Aryan or non-Jewish ownership. It was becoming obvious through intelligence received by the SOE that the Nazis were intent on cleansing Europe of the Jewish population and making it impossible for them to live as normal citizens. What had begun as a terror regime raging through Germany was now spreading like wildfire through every country Hitler occupied.
Lizzie realised much of what Hannah had predicted when they were in Paris was now unfolding at an alarming speed.
Dear Hannah. Lizzie desperately hoped she was well and hadn’t fallen foul of this vicious regime. The one thing that buoyed her spirits was she couldn’t imagine Hannah being anything other than full of life. It didn’t seem possible, and her intuition told her she was alive.
Lizzie paused on the cobbles as she stood near the boucherie and assessed the long queue that tailed out of the shop and down the street in the opposite direction. Above the butcher’s shop was a private residence with pretty pale blue shutters and an ornate wrought-iron balcony.
