Page 11

L izzie and Jack sat at a table outside the café talking and surreptitiously watching the comings and goings in the Place du Capitole, which was a hive of bustling activity.

Lizzie sipped her coffee and admired her new wedding band that glinted in the sun. ‘It’ll be strange not to wear this. I’ve grown accustomed to it already,’ she said, her voice inaudible except to Jack. ‘How are you finding yours?’

Jack glanced at his gold French-made wedding band and lit a Gauloises, blowing smoke rings in the air above his head, as if he had nothing more pressing to do than while away the afternoon in a café.

‘I don’t usually wear jewellery, but I love being married to you, so it feels good,’ he said, flashing her a smile that melted her heart.

‘Correct answer,’ she said, amused. Lizzie watched the shapes of smoke float away on the light summer breeze.

Jack caught the eye of the disgruntled waitress and ordered another round of coffees and then asked casually, ‘What is there to do around here in the evenings?’

The waitress, whose thick wavy hair was rolled and secured with grips in an elegant style, was the epitome of a chic young French woman, even in wartime.

‘Curfew puts a stop to the fun.’

‘What kind of fun would that be?’ Jack asked.

‘Oh, nothing special. What brings you to Toulouse?’ she asked, looking from Lizzie to Jack and back again.

Lizzie had gained a lot of experience in reading people’s expressions, and she guessed the waitress was afraid she’d shared too much too soon with a pair of strangers.

‘Wine. I’m in the wine business. This is my wife, Isabelle, and I’m Michel.’

The young woman inclined her head. ‘Good to meet you, Michel and Isabelle, with the rhyming names.’ She collected their empty coffee cups and, as she leant over the table, she said, ‘Welcome to Toulouse.’

That afternoon Isabelle and Michel Dubois wandered through the picturesque maze of narrow streets in the medieval town.

No matter how much they sought to blend in, they were a handsome couple who drew discreet and not so discreet glances of admiration wherever they went.

The saving grace was the city was heaving with people and Lizzie hoped there was some safety in numbers.

‘This feels almost wrong,’ Lizzie said as they walked. ‘I feel guilty for enjoying myself like this. It’s so different from being in Northern France, where I couldn’t relax for a second.’

‘It’s a welcome change not to see German soldiers at every turn, that’s for certain,’ Jack said.

‘I wonder what will happen in the South. Do you think they’ll occupy here too at some point?’

‘It’s hard to say. They have the best of both worlds since the invasion. With the Vichy lot collaborating fully, the Germans don’t need to deploy troops to control the area. I don’t suppose there’s any reason to occupy unless something changes.’

‘I hope we invade soon,’ Lizzie said, lowering her voice, so Jack heard her words, but they drifted away as they stepped onto the windy bridge.

‘Me too, but we’re not ready.’

Lizzie said, ‘It seems like it might be fairly straightforward to operate undercover here. I haven’t seen a policeman since the square, and everyone’s just going about their business normally.’

‘Don’t let that fool you, darling. Always be on guard.’

‘You’re right. I mustn’t relax just because there aren’t German soldiers goose-stepping about the city.’

They strolled along the bridge, gazing at the slow-moving muddied water. ‘It’s nice to be in France in the summer again. Do you remember how freezing it was in Paris?’ Lizzie said.

‘ Arrêts! ’ A menacing voice stopped them in their tracks, and they turned to see a short, angry looking policeman bearing down on them. ‘Good afternoon. You must be new to the area. I haven’t seen you before,’ he said, his words escaping his tight, thin lips.

‘Good afternoon,’ Jack said, as Lizzie smiled politely and tucked her arm into his like an obedient wife. He continued, ‘You are to be commended for your powers of observation. We are indeed new to the area and are visiting my cousin and will be staying for a while on business.’

‘What is the nature of your business?’ the policeman probed, fixing Jack with a pointed stare.

Lizzie assessed him as he questioned Jack and ignored her.

He was dressed in a dark blue uniform: a jacket with brass buttons done up to the collar and the traditional kepi hat the French police usually wore.

Lizzie was relieved to see that at least the French police hadn’t adopted a German uniform—yet.

‘I’m in the wine trade,’ Jack said, his deep voice confident.

‘Papers, please,’ the policeman barked, not wasting time on niceties.

Lizzie realised she had jumped to conclusions and the Free Zone might not be much freer than occupied France, after all.

The difference was the oppressor wore a French uniform and spoke the native language.

It made the betrayal more insidious, and difficult to spot.

She adjusted her yellow silk scarf and prayed it would act as her lucky charm once more.

Jack extracted his identity papers from his breast pocket, which had been expertly forged by the SOE, and Lizzie held her breath as a million terrible scenarios whirled through her mind at a lightning pace.

That would teach her to be so blasé. What had she been thinking, acting as though they were on their honeymoon, without a care in the world?

A thin film of sweat coated her skin, and she shifted her position slightly to try to cool herself down.

Jack handed over the document and the policeman studied it, making little grunting sounds.

Lizzie’s pulse raced, and she dared not look at Jack. Surely, they wouldn’t be arrested on their first day.

The policeman continued to scrutinise the document as though it were the deed to his family fortune, and finally Jack interceded. ‘Everything in order, Monsieur le Gendarme?’

‘Do you or your wife have Jewish blood?’

‘My God, no,’ Jack said, shaking his head, a haughty disdain etched on his features. ‘Of course not. Why, what’s the latest with those dirty Jews?’

‘Marshal Pétain decreed we must remove citizenship from every Jew living in France. He prides himself on not waiting for the Führer to instruct us to cleanse Vichy France, and instead we are leading the way.’

Lizzie thought of Hannah and how the Nazis had arrested her parents in Berlin and persecuted the Jews in Germany in the thirties by stripping away all their civil rights.

She had hoped the Vichy government was collaborating only on the surface, to appease Hitler, but wasn’t enacting the vile anti-Jewish laws actively.

‘And just so I understand, in case we should come across any Jewish vermin during our stay, what happens to them exactly, and what would you like us to do?’

‘According to the Statut de Juifs , they are to be excluded from the press, commerce and the civil service. The administration would be grateful to you for alerting us to any Jews you suspect have not disclosed their status. You may report them by name and address, or, even better, escort them to our headquarters on la Place du Capitole, where we will deal with them appropriately. We have extensive governmental lists, but it’s proving difficult to locate many of them.

They change their names and are masters of deception, you know.

You might find it hard to believe, but some of our own French citizens are helping and hiding them. ’

Sweat rolled down the hot skin of Lizzie’s back under her dress as she listened to the policeman condemn a whole segment of the country’s population purely because they were Jewish.

His pride in his duties and sense of self-importance was evident, and Lizzie swallowed hard.

She had heard the horror stories from Hannah about how Jews were targeted systematically throughout Europe, but she had not witnessed it firsthand in a casual conversation as though eliminating Jews from society, were the most natural thing in the world to discuss on a summer’s day.

The policeman continued. ‘There are stricter measures coming soon, and they try to fool us in a despicable manner, but never fear, we are dedicated and shall track them all down. The collaborators and all who try to shield them will pay the ultimate price for their betrayal.’

‘That is reassuring,’ Jack said. ‘It is good to know someone so dedicated is in charge of these critical affairs in Toulouse.’

The policeman’s chest puffed out visibly at the praise, and he nodded eagerly. ‘My name is Maurice Moulin. I work closely with the commissaire. You might say I’m his right-hand man. ’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, isn’t it, Isabelle?’

Lizzie forced her voice to form words, and a sound emerged from her dry throat. ‘Yes.’

It was all she could manage.

‘Where are you staying?’ the policeman quizzed.

Jack replied, ‘At the residence of my distant cousin, Luc Saint-Clair.’

Lizzie saw a look of sheer panic cross the policeman’s face. He hastily folded the identity document and pushed it back into Jack’s hands as though it might burn his flesh.

‘Please forgive me, Monsieur Dubois. My apologies for any inconvenience. If I’d known who you were, I shouldn’t have bothered you. Give my regards to Monsieur Saint-Clair.’ The policeman hurried away, almost tripping over his own feet.

Lizzie stared at Jack. ‘What was that all about? Anyone would think we said we were a houseguest of Hitler himself. What on earth alarmed him about Luc so much, I wonder?’

‘No idea, but I shall try and find out this evening. Luc invited us to dine with him, talking of which, we had better make our way back to the car. It wouldn’t do to be late for our first dinner with our gracious host.’

The episode left a bitter taste in Lizzie’s mouth, and she was pleased to escape the city she had been so keen to explore. The conversation had made her feel grubby. ‘That encounter brought me back down to earth with a bump.’

Jack muttered. ‘His responses were shocking. I knew about the Statut from intelligence we received from occupied France, but I didn’t think they were equally committed or even more zealous about persecuting Jews in Vichy France. So many fled here when Germany invaded.’

‘Every time I hear about the severity of the anti-Jewish laws, I struggle to believe this is happening,’ Lizzie said in a shaky voice.

‘Hitler has stoked and ignited the worst traits in mankind. You’d think, Pétain would be distrustful of Hitler after seeing how the army plunder the region despite this supposed Zone Libre agreement.’

Lizzie fell silent. There was nothing to say in the face of such evil.

Only actions would make a difference now.

Her resolve to do all she could for those being hunted, whatever the personal sacrifice, was like a steely fist in her belly.

A shiver reverberated through her, despite her clammy skin, as she realised this mission would take all they had and could cost them their lives.

They left the city in silence and drove into the hills. All sense of lightness and fun she had felt earlier had evaporated into something more sinister. ‘That was a close shave.’

‘Yes, it could have gone awfully wrong, but our papers are good. As long as we keep calm, we can outwit any of these petty administrators who preen in the limelight. Their defences aren’t high, when they are so focused on their own image.’

Lizzie smiled, relief coursing through her. Jack always knew what to say to make her feel better. When he turned the car into the sweeping drive, and manoeuvred the rusty vehicle into the outbuilding, she touched her lucky scarf.

Her heart slowed to a steady beat. They had made it safely back to the chateau and survived their first reconnaissance mission.