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J ack returned to their rooms, looking dapper in a borrowed jacket, shirt, and trousers. ‘I requisitioned these from Luc, in the name of the war effort,’ he smirked.

‘And very handsome you look, darling.’

‘Thank you, my gorgeous wife.’

Lizzie moved into Jack’s arms, and they kissed, swaying in the deliciousness of their newfound freedom. Jack’s solid frame gave Lizzie comfort as she rested against him.

‘Ready for our first adventure in Toulouse?’ Lizzie asked when they drew apart.

Jack reached over and straightened Lizzie’s lucky yellow scarf. ‘Ready now, yes. Let’s go.’

They descended the winding marble staircase and arrived in the great hall on the ground floor.

‘Where is everyone in this fairytale castle?’ Lizzie whispered.

‘Luc said he was going to see the workers in the vineyard. I don’t know about the others. I managed to arrange us some transport. Let’s go and see what we have at our disposal.’

They exited the chateau the way they had entered, through the main back entrance and down the stone steps.

‘That sounds promising,’ Lizzie said. ‘The most I’d expected was a battered bicycle. That’s my usual mode of transport.’

‘Luc said there’s an old car we can use in the garage.’

‘How on earth does he get fuel, or are there not the same shortages here, as in Paris?’ Lizzie asked, her eyes wide.

‘Luc said they keep a small amount of fuel for the chateau vehicles, and an old friend of his in the Vichy police turns a blind eye.’

‘That’s fortunate,’ Lizzie said.

‘Yes, but it comes at a ferocious price. The vineyard uses half the wine harvest to distil into industrial alcohol by order of the Vichy government for the Nazis. Luc said the Boche use it to make explosives, so he decided a bit of fuel for his car was fair game.’

Lizzie said, ‘I’d not thought of how they make fuel before. In Reims, the Nazis stole much of the champagne and wine, so I can’t say I’m shocked they’re bleeding the chateau dry too.’

The heat of the day hit Lizzie in the face as she walked with Jack around the courtyard in search of the promised car.

Souffle like clouds floated across the deep blue sky and she admired the far-reaching views of the countryside.

‘What a gorgeous day,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I wore my light dress and didn’t bring my raincoat. ’

‘You shouldn’t need that today,’ Jack agreed.

‘I wore my raincoat a lot in Reims, even though it was summer, because it was handy to hide things in the pockets.’

‘I think it would be more conspicuous to wear one here when it’s so blisteringly hot, but there are bound to be some rainy days. Let’s hope they coincide with our more clandestine operations,’ Jack said with a wry smile.

They turned the corner and saw a stone outbuilding covered in ivy. Lizzie followed Jack in and a strong smell she couldn’t quite place, permeated her nose. He whistled as she caught up to him.

‘What?’ Lizzie asked, staring at two cars parked next to each other. One was black with a dirty roof, whilst the other shone bright red like an exhibit that had never left the museum.

‘That’s a Bugatti. What a beauty. I remember Luc driving us around in it when I was a young boy.’

‘Gosh, that must be an old classic.’

‘Thank you,’ Jack said, a twinkle in his eye as he turned to her.

‘Oh, you know what I mean. It’s been years since you visited.’

‘Your point is made! I’m as old, or possibly even older than the Bugatti, but you were still toddling about at the time. Need, I point out, that’s why it’s called a classic?’

‘Fair enough. You’re definitely a classic.’ She loved teasing Jack about their age gap, and he took it with good grace.

‘You’re my wife now, Madame Dubois, so it’s too late to regret marrying an old timer.’

‘I would never regret it,’ Lizzie said, and her heart fluttered as she said the words and thought about the future when they would really get married. Her mind drifted. Would they marry in London or Jersey?

‘I’m sorry to break the news, but after all that talk, we must go in this old thing,’ Jack said, pointing to the inferior car.

‘No point attracting attention in a flash motor. It’s old, but Luc clearly keeps it in impeccable condition, and it will turn heads.

We may as well broadcast our arrival if we drive into town in that. ’

‘You have a good point.’ Lizzie said.

Jack opened the door of the rusty black Peugeot and signalled with a flourish for Lizzie to be seated. He raced around to the other door and poked about inside the dusty car for a minute before turning the ignition. It spluttered and died several times, and they looked at each other.

‘Did Luc say it runs well?’

‘He said it’s a bit of an old tractor and isn’t used much because the housekeeper prefers to do errands on her bike, but it’s in working order.’

Jack tried the ignition again, and the small, clanky engine sprung to life and the smell of fumes assailed them both. ‘Heck, so this is the result when you make fuel from grapes.’

‘Oh, that’s what that overpowering smell was. We’ll be drunk soon at this rate,’ Lizzie said. ‘We might be better off riding bicycles.’

‘Shame we can’t take the Bugatti and drive with the roof down.’

The car lurched forward into the yard and the car took a wheezy gasp and soon they were on their way.

Jack continued, ‘It would be fun on the way down, but remember the steep hill on the trek up here? I don’t fancy that on a bicycle, do you?’

‘No,’ Lizzie said. ‘Although, it feels a bit like cheating, having our own car on a mission.’

The drove on the narrow road by the chateau, and the view of the valley stretched before them like a scene in an oil painting.

‘Isn’t it exquisite?’

Jack agreed it was. ‘Henry and I loved staying here in the school holidays. We’d stay for weeks with my mother, and my father would come and go as business permitted. They were wonderful times.’

Lizzie heard the hint of melancholy in Jack’s voice. ‘I’m glad you brought me with you,’ she said, softly.

Jack glanced at Lizzie before gripping the steering wheel with both hands to take a sharp bend down the steep hill. ‘Me too, darling. I have lots of happy memories of this place. I’d forgotten my father visited when we were little.’

Jack’s father had died of a sudden heart attack years earlier, and he had told Lizzie his mother had never regained her spark.

Lizzie caressed Jack’s neck, and he smiled at her, and she was relieved to see the sadness had passed.

‘We’ll be entering the city in a few minutes,’ he said.

The car rumbled along the bumpy road and Lizzie shielded her eyes from the sun reflecting off the windshield. Then she spotted a beautifully crafted bridge. ‘That must be the Pont Neuf ,’ she said.

‘Yes, the New Bridge that was completed in 1632!’ Jack replied.

‘Whoever named it didn’t realise how funny it would be hundreds of years into the future.’

Lizzie counted the arches of the bridge as they drove nearer. ‘You’d think they’d have called it Seven Arches,’ she said.

Pink-hued buildings encrusted the landscape on both sides of the river. ‘And this must be the famous River Garonne. Val and Drake were right. It is a charming city with impressive architecture.’

‘Indeed,’ Jack replied. ‘I don’t think I appreciated it fully as a boy.’

A delicate summer breeze wafted in through the open window.

‘That feels good,’ Jack said. ‘Let’s park and take a walk to find our bearings, shall we?’

‘How exciting, this feels like our first holiday.’

Jack laughed. ‘I won’t repeat my earlier observation in case of listening ears, but it’s just as I said.’

Lizzie knew he referred to their conversation at Baker Street when he observed that he’d never known anyone to be as excited to go undercover in enemy territory.

‘You know why I’m excited,’ she said. ‘This is our chance to be together every day.’

‘True, and you’re right. We’d better make the most of it.’

They left the car in a quiet side street, and Jack came around to open the door for Lizzie. She smoothed the skirt of her dress down and checked her summer hat was still in place after the bumpy car journey.

‘You look perfect, just like you always do,’ Jack said, reading her mind.

‘You look pretty good yourself,’ she said. ‘That jacket suits you and those trousers are the right length.’

‘Yes, lucky that. Luc said he’s shrunk a bit with age, but he’s kept many of his clothes from when he was a younger man, and we’re of a similar build.’

‘Seems like packing light or should I say, packing nothing to wear, has paid off.’ Lizzie threw Jack a mischievous smile, and he touched her cheek fondly.

Lizzie tucked her hand in his arm, and they strolled along the cobbled street just like any married couple. After a few minutes, Lizzie said, ‘A coffee would hit the spot.’

‘Yes, it would, and sitting at a café is a fabulous way to people watch.’

‘Are we watching for anyone in particular?’ she said.

‘I’ll be on the lookout for familiar faces, as that’s my biggest concern, but I doubt anyone will recognise me now. Let’s watch out for conspicuous types and see where they lead us.’

‘Ah, finally I’ll be able to learn spycraft in the field from the best there is.’

‘I don’t know who that might be,’ Jack said, winking, ‘but I’m happy to teach you what I’ve picked up over the years.’

‘You are too modest, darling. You should hear what the other agents say about you.’

‘Oh yes, and what do they say?’

‘You can play it down, but you’re the legendary Raven in Military Intelligence.’

Jack pooh-poohed the idea with an eye roll and a charming smile.

Lizzie knew Jack didn’t like people making a fuss of his accomplishments, but she was excited to shadow him and learn some new tricks. Hannah, the Jewish Resistance agent, had taught her so much, just by being near her and watching how she responded to situations.

‘You’re a natural. Don’t water your abilities down by copying how others do things. You know the basics and you’ve done an incredible job so far. The fact that you’re here, in France once again, is testament to that.’

Lizzie accepted the compliment with grace, and decided she would watch carefully what he did, without making a big deal of it.

She still had so much to learn, and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of becoming a better agent by resting on her laurels.

Jack was her undercover husband, but he was also her commanding officer, and he had years of experience in the field from before she had even considered being a secret agent.

‘Come on, Madame Dubois, let’s find a café to partake of our first hideous coffee in the city.’

Lizzie laughed at the comical face he pulled, and feelings of pure joy bubbled in her chest.

They walked slowly through the narrow winding streets, trying not to stand out like they were new to the city, but keen to observe their surroundings.

It was around noon and the harsh sun beat down on them.

‘If my cartography is anything to write home about, we should see the Place du Capitole shortly.’

Jack’s cartography proved impeccable, and after a few minutes they entered a large square, where the City Hall dominated with its palatial facade.

The Tricolore, as well as the Vichy regime flag, were displayed proudly from the building.

Cafés lined the square, and the place was busy despite the noon sun. ‘I imagine people will return home for lunch soon, and it won’t be quite so busy,’ Lizzie said.

‘Perhaps, but I suspect the residents of Toulouse might not be quite as traditional in their habits as in Reims or Paris.’

‘Why’s that?’ Lizzie asked, as they scanned the plaza, searching for the best table to begin their city reconnaissance.

‘If the whispers we heard in London are correct, Toulouse is a sea of immigrants and political resistors. Before the war, the city was a haven for thousands of Spanish Republicans who fled the Franco regime, and on the fall of France, the French flooded the South.’

‘How fascinating,’ Lizzie said as they approached a pretty little café under the shelter of the arcades. ‘It’s baking hot, I think we’ll do well to sit in the shade.’

Jack pulled out a chair for Lizzie, and they took a seat and browsed the menu.

‘There’s not much selection,’ Lizzie remarked.

‘Luc said the rationing is severe and there are great shortages of many foodstuffs, despite the armistice and not being officially occupied.’

Just as a waitress arrived to take their order, a small cavalcade drew up in front of City Hall, and more Pétain standard flags fluttered from the vehicles.

The waitress cursed under her breath as she watched the scene.

Jack said, ‘We’re visiting relatives and have only just arrived. Who is that?’

‘ That’s Pétain’s mob, the double-crossing tyrant who waves his flag to promote his fictional Free Zone whilst licking Hitler’s boots.’ She spat the words out with disdain.

‘I take it you’re not a fan of the new government,’ Jack said, his voice low.

‘You could say that,’ she replied.

A loud voice called to her from the café door, telling her to hurry.

‘Apologies, there isn’t much time for talking to customers, I’m afraid. We have our own strict regime under Monsieur Jacques. What may I bring you?’

They ordered coffee, and the waitress continued with her duties.

‘Well, that’s a promising start. If all the Toulousians are as outspoken and gutsy as her, we’re going to have a lot of fun disrupting the Vichy regime.’

After their coffee was served, Jack and Lizzie chinked their cups. ‘ Santé .’