Page 65 of Tides of Resistance
They would pass the message to him, and he would be livid, but she hoped he would agree she had made the right decision when she returned with vital intelligence on the part Jersey was to play in the vast Atlantic Wall defence.
Her tangled emotions were calling her to the shores of Jersey to see her grandparents whilst she had the chance, but there was sound professional justification for her to infiltrate the island too.
Lizzie pushed away the feelings that threatened to engulf her when she thought of Jack in London scared for her life. This was the moment to click into new mission mode and follow her head, not her heart. If she thought too much about what was at stake if she failed in this unforeseen next step, she would fall apart.
Churchill and his War Cabinet were counting on her to bring home solid intelligence, and she intended to rise to the challenge, no matter the personal risk.
Fabian was transfixed by the coded radio system and asked her to teach him how to be as useful to the Allies as she obviously was.
Lizzie whispered, ‘God willing, I’ll be back soon, and I’ll need to send a message to organise my way home. You can watch again then.’
‘Is it very difficult to get the hang of?’ he asked.
‘It’s a skill and takes some practice. As we’re in the field, not in a secure training base, every practice run could get us killed, so we must be cautious.’
Fabian practiced dismantling and then rebuilding the radio set under Lizzie’s supervision, and she saw that his craftsmanship made him a natural operator.
‘You are good with your hands, so it makes sense for you to do this, but I must stress how dangerous it is. Only ever send a message with the radio crystals.’
Lizzie showed him how the crystals worked and withdrew the spare ones from her coat lining, leaving them with him for safekeeping.
‘What safe word shall we use if I send someone to contact you?’ she asked.
Fabian thought for a second and adjusted his cap. ‘How aboutCorsairs?’
A smile crossed Lizzie’s lips. ‘Fitting. The pirates of St. Malo.’
Her cousin hugged her tightly before she left, and Judith wished her a safe trip, her brown eyes full of fear as she squeezed her hand in farewell.
Now, not long after her sunset cruise, Lizzie found herself back at sea, this time huddled in an old fishing boat lurching its way across the Channel from St. Lunaire towards the coast of Jersey.
The boat was a far cry from the luxury yacht, and her stomach was queasy from the constant rolling of the small vessel and the overpowering smell of fish.
The vessel rocked from side to side, and Lizzie thought about how she had hidden in the burly fisherman’s truck, and he had transferred her to the boat, camouflaged by his equipment.
‘I can’t thank you enough for this, Alain,’ she said, once he waved her out of hiding when they were clear of the harbour and on the open seas.
‘I must be mad.’ His voice was gruff, and Lizzie wondered if it was from the years of breathing in the salty air and the harsh conditions of his work.
He put her at her ease immediately when he had collected her from the farmhouse, under the guise of collecting a piece of restored furniture from Fabian. Alain had brought her a fisherman’s outfit so that if she was spotted, she would be disguised as crew.
‘I’m sorry for the trouble, but it will be worth your while. I left money with Fabian so you will have a good payday on your return.’
Alain switched his gaze briefly from concentrating on deploying his trawl nets, his eyes narrowing. ‘What happens if you’re not there when I come for you?’
‘If I’m not there by 9 a.m. tomorrow at the agreed spot, leave without me. Don’t endanger yourself any further than you already are.’
Alain twiddled with his compass. ‘But what about you?’
‘I will find my way out somehow. All going according to plan, we’ll return together, but if not, let Fabian know. He will understand.’
Alain raised a dark eyebrow, and she saw the order did not impress him. ‘You’re telling me, a proud Breton, to abandon a damsel in distress to the Boche in her hour of need?’
Lizzie laughed. ‘I appreciate your gallantry, Alain. But the war has changed things. Think of me less as a damsel in distress and more like an avenging angel.’
He joined her in laughter, and the gravelly sound echoed through the boat. Lizzie’s compact frame swayed from side to side on the hard wooden fish box, and she was tossed about on the spring tides, huddling near the cabin to shelter from the violent gushes of seawater that frequently hit the open boat.
She thought about the brave people she had met on her missions. People she would never have known if it weren’t for the war throwing them together in the most dangerous situations. Alain was one.
