Page 43 of Tides of Resistance
Thank God, it was him.
The priest moved his head closer to the grille and whispered, ‘I've been expecting you. What can I do for you?’
Lizzie replied in hushed tones. ‘I believe you have something for me, Father.’
‘I will give you some holy water to restore your health. Meet me in the sacristy after Confession is finished,’ he said.
As Lizzie rose, he said, ‘Say three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ Lizzie said, her voice louder so it would carry beyond the confessional for anyone listening.
The Confession was over within a few minutes, and Lizzie moved the heavy curtain aside and went to say her penance in the chapel.
There was time to fill before the priest would be available to meet with her, so she prayed her grandparents were safe and well in Jersey. The news about Seagrove that her uncle had shared set her nerves on edge each time she thought of it.
How could her beloved family home, the island of her birth, and worst still, her grandparents, be under the rule of the Nazis? Sometimes, the unfolding horror of the Germans occupying British territory was impossible to accept. Most of the time she tried not to think about it because when she did, she grew angry at the British government for abandoning the islands in their hour of greatest need. If the military hadn’t packed up shop and left the islands defenceless, they wouldn’t be in this position now.
Next, she lit a candle and whispered a blessing, thinking of all those who had lost their lives in the fight so far. Lizzie dropped a few coins into the donation box and entered the sacristy behind the altar.
Natural light filtered through the tall windows, and the small room smelt of beeswax. Lizzie crossed the flagstones and admired the sacred vessels on the shelves. She had never entered the sacristy before and gazed around with interest, noting there was a basin and jug on a large table, which would be for the priest’s liturgical preparations. Supplies of candles, holy water and wine were stacked behind the glass panels of the heavy cupboards, which backed onto thick stone walls. Chalices and cruets lined another shelf and gleamed through the cabinet panels. It was like a treasure chest of holy relics, and colourful priestly robes hung in a partially open wardrobe, and Lizzie felt as though she had entered someone’s most private space.
A cough rang out behind her, and she swung around to see Father Guérin entering and closing the door firmly behind him.
‘Rose, thank you for waiting,’ he said. ‘Bear with me a moment and I will give you a bottle of holy water as promised.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ Lizzie said, watching as he walked to a drawer and removed a key, which he used to unlock a door at the bottom of a tall armoire. The priest’s hands searched in the compartment, removing various objects and placing them on the stone floor.
Tension gripped Lizzie as she waited, and he extracted more vessels and folded vestments and arranged them on the flagstones.
‘Here’s the holy water,’ he said in a loud voice, as he withdrew a bulky item wrapped in black cloth, peered beneath it and nodded as he beckoned for her to take it.
Lizzie rushed to his side. The cloth concealed a box, which was what they called in the trade—a biscuit tin. She opened the tin and looked inside to check the contents. There nestled the wireless set she so desperately needed.
‘God keep you safe, Father,’ she breathed.
She slipped the cloth-wrapped box into the shopping bag she had brought with her.
‘Rose,’ the priest whispered, pointing to her bag. ‘Not within the city walls.’ Then he hurried to the supply cupboard and withdrew a bottle of holy water and handed it to her.
Lizzie’s eyes met his, and she nodded as she put the holy water on top of the radio.
Her heart pounded as she emerged and walked through the cathedral and out onto the street. It was a bright morning. Seagulls screeched and swooped in the blue sky above the city, and she could taste the salt on the wind, reminding her how close she was to the sea.
Lizzie had given some thought to what she would do if the radio came into her possession. Father Guérin was right. It was far too dangerous to transmit regularly from within the walls and it was a miracle Jacques had somehow hidden the radio at the cathedral before he was arrested.
The new St. Malo listening post intercepted radio traffic between France and Britain and was part of the plan to build the Atlantic Wall defences. It was almost certain the increased monitoring had resulted in Jacques’ arrest.
Lizzie carried her shopping bag as though she were just another young woman going about her errands. Her mind ticked over as she walked back to the house, now and then pausing to look in a shop window to make sure she wasn’t being followed. It was dangerous to take it there, but she had nowhere else to go.
She must act quickly. The radio crystals would allow her a safe route to get a message to Baker Street, but then she must find somewhere outside the walls where surveillance was weak.
Rue St. Vincent was quiet, and the only resident to greet her as she used her key was Minou, who purred and nuzzled against her legs as she followed her into the house.
Lizzie ran upstairs and shoved her bag under the bed before checking the house was empty. Sophie would have left for the bookshop by now, and Aunt Giselle must be out queuing for rations. There was no sign of Uncle Charles either, so Lizzie pulled the umbrella stand in front of the back door, so she would hear if someone returned.
Sophie had shown Lizzie around the house, and they had entered the attic, laughing at their childhood antics when they used to hide from their parents in the cupboards.
Lizzie fetched the radio crystals and cleared the surface of a table in a dusty alcove by the dormer window in the sloped roof of the attic. Opening the metal latch, she leaned out slightly to check the street below was clear of any suspicious vans or patrols, and then closed the window. It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear her tapping. The moment grew nearer when she would transmit to England, surrounded by Germans specifically focused on picking up transmissions of this nature.
