Page 51 of Whispers At Dawn
Since embarking on her first overseas operation, she had come alive in ways she hadn’t envisaged. Every day undercoverwas a heady rush and add to that her passionate relationship with Jack, and it made for a thrilling life.
A response came through to go ahead and Jack tapped out his message in Morse, confident it was a secure channel and a radio operator was ready to receive and pass the message to Val.
Jack packed the wireless and codebook away, and turned to Lizzie, ready to leave. ‘All done.’
‘What did the message say?’ she asked, curious and keen to improve her spycraft. Despite their intense relationship, Jack was still her military superior.
‘The airmen are getting close.’
Lizzie froze.
‘How do you know?’
‘Marguerite left a letter for you. Suzanne passed it to me when you’d already gone into dinner.’
‘What did it say?’ Lizzie asked, her weariness gone and her eyes wide.
‘That our delivery should arrive sometime this week.’
‘My God, this thing is really happening. We’re going to hide British airmen in the château grounds when a Gestapo officer is coming to dinner!’
Jack said, ‘We’d better not think too much about it now. Besides, remember we have other plans tonight.’
Lizzie’s senses leapt at the promise of a night of lovemaking with no air raids to disturb them and nowhere to rush to. She pushed the fearful thoughts from her mind as they walked stealth like across the courtyard and back through the maze of corridors by the light of the lantern.
Their bedroom was quiet, apart from the sounds of nature bedding down for the night through the open windows. Jack closed the shutters and turned to Lizzie. ‘I think we should make the most of our honeymoon.’
Even Luc didn’t know they weren’t really married. They had kept it from him so there would be no uncomfortable conversation about them sharing a bed. It was simpler to pretend they were really man and wife, and it felt right.
Jack kissed her feverishly, and she returned his ardour with abandon as they removed each other’s clothing in a trance.
All thoughts of airmen and Gestapo were banished as they lost themselves in each other and their desire swept them far away from the dangers of Vichy France.
They were newlyweds—Monsieur and Madame Dubois—and at least for tonight, all was perfect in their world. They made love again and again in the darkness, revelling in the freedom to be together all night in such a peaceful setting instead of sharing snatched hours in Jack’s London flat.
Lizzie cried out in ecstasy as Jack’s hands played on her senses like a maestro conducting a symphony until she barely remembered who she was. They exchanged words of devotion until first light seeped through the cracks in the shutters and they fell into a deep, satiated sleep, locked in each other’s embrace.
CHAPTER 25
Armand Abadie sat in his office, taking meetings with informants. Wednesday was his favourite morning of the week, listening to the secrets confided in him by loyal citizens. He commended himself on his clever idea to establish a weekly clinic for concerned Toulousians to meet with him personally. The idea had come to him during one of his people watching lunches and had led to countless successful raids on Jews and otherundesirables.
Armand had taken to using the expression after watching a newsreel featuring Hitler at the cinema. It was the perfect catch-all term for the scum that had washed into his city in ever-increasing waves since Marshal Pétain signed the armistice, and Jews, communists, blacks, homosexuals, gypsies, and all the other ugly misfits who in his opinion, like Hitler’s, had no place in society.
He checked his pocket watch he still used since the Great War. The beauty of the watch face and the intricate craftsmanship of the gold casing still moved him when he looked at it. He kept it on him at all times during the day and lay it on his bedside cabinet at night. It was his most treasured possession.
‘Josette!’ he called. When there was no response, he rose from his desk, irritation etched into his every feature. ‘Josette!’ his voice boomed beyond the door and into the reception area.
A petite, neatly dressed young woman came rushing over. ‘Yes, Monsieur Abadie? What may I do for you?’
‘You may come quicker when I call,’ he snapped.
The secretary apologised and looked downcast, as though she might burst into tears.
He held up his hand and tutted. ‘Alright, enough apologies and sad faces. Do better next time and I won’t need to scold you.’
He issued his order, and she scurried away. When she returned with his coffee in hand, she told him someone had arrived to see him.
Josette took care not to use the dirty word ‘informant’ even though she knew only too well, that was what was going on in her boss’s office. She would have liked to leave the job, but her salary was all that was between her and her mother falling into poverty, so she shut up and did what he told her. He was not the type to risk insulting.
