Page 29

‘The waiting is the killer,’ Lizzie said when Jack handed her a snifter of Armagnac to calm her nerves. She took a sip. ‘It’s so strong, but with a hint of a chocolate taste. Could that be right or am I imagining it?’

‘You have a good palate. It has a note of chocolate.’

They chatted about wine and brandy to pass the time, Jack explaining to Lizzie what he’d learned about training and pruning the vines under Luc’s tutelage.

‘How Henry and I worked in the vineyards is coming back to me now.’

‘Could you see yourself living here one day?’

Jack paused, the balloon glass midpoint from the table to his lips. ‘Live here. What makes you ask that?’

‘You seem so at home’

‘Do I? I didn’t realise,’ Jack said, pondering Lizzie’s observation. ‘I suppose I’ve always felt at home in France, with French parents and so many visits here in my childhood.’

‘How about you? Would you like to live in France when the world rids itself of lunatics and we’re back on an even keel?’

Jack never spoke of losing the war. It was as if the possibility didn’t enter his mind, or if it did, he wouldn’t express it. She followed his example, and they only ever made plans for what they would do after winning the war and Europe was liberated from Hitler’s yoke of tyranny.

‘I’m not sure. I certainly wouldn’t be against it, although I imagine I’ll be torn between Jersey and London. I’ve grown to love London in a way I never thought I would.’

‘And Jersey, do you miss it terribly?’ Jack asked softly.

‘I do. Although, I think a big part of that is the nostalgia of my childhood innocence and how it symbolises life before the war.’

‘Makes sense. At least we will have options.’

They sat on the sofa in the large bedroom. Lizzie’s feet curled beneath her, her head resting on Jack’s shoulder and their hands entwined. The clock ticked ominously, and the hour approached eleven.

Jack stood and stretched. ‘We had better get organised. We’re to meet Lev in half an hour.’

They dressed in dark clothes and crept out of the big old house silently via the warm kitchen, as smooth as cat burglars stealing away in the night. They wound through the estate and towards the back of the chateau, part of which was bordered by the woods, where they had agreed to meet Lev.

Lizzie’s heart hammered fiercely as she raced to keep pace with Jack up and down the slopes, but it was more from fear than exertion.

She had always been fit as a girl, riding her bicycle up the steep country lanes in Jersey, and swimming in Portelet Bay, but her fitness had reached a new peak since training with the SOE and undertaking so many missions.

The lead trainer had told the group, ‘Sometimes staying alive is as simple as being able to outrun your enemy. You have to be fit.’

She remembered how he had made them run barefoot cross country, and his face appeared in her mind as they approached the edge of the shadowy moonlit woods. An owl hooted loudly, and Lizzie jumped. Panic spiralled through her and her skin felt like it was coated in sharp needles.

Calm down , she told herself, but her pulse raced as random memories flitted through her mind.

Jack stopped abruptly, signalling for her to follow him as he turned. They entered the woods; their path lit only by the small beam of his torch.

Lizzie’s senses heightened with every step. They had discussed the possibility this was a trap. The authorities could be lying in wait for them. It would take only one informant to have noticed something out of the ordinary and to have alerted the police.

They continued walking slowly until they came upon a large tree and Jack stopped. ‘We’re to wait here,’ he whispered.

The rustling sounds of the woods were amplified by the stark quiet and dark of the night. Lizzie’s eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings, and she saw wildlife darting through the trees by moonlight.

‘How long do we wait?’ she asked.

Her question went unanswered because they both heard footfall on the ground in the distance and reached for their guns. They stood like statues as the sounds approached and they heard the murmur of voices.

This was the moment. They would either see two British airmen with Lev, or they were about to be captured in an elaborate trap.

They had made a basic plan to fight back if the latter scenario unfolded, and they had their weapons, but if the authorities caught them, they would be outnumbered. Escaping would be a long shot.

Jack reached for Lizzie’s hand and squeezed it. The seconds passed in an agony of sluggishness until Lizzie thought she might explode with the tension.

Then a wiry figure stepped out and joined them in the hazy torchlight beneath the tree.

Lizzie saw it was Lev and sent up a fierce prayer of gratitude.

‘Did you bring them?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes, of course. I wanted to double check you hadn’t been compromised.’

‘As far as we’re aware, all is secure. We need to get them into the chateau grounds and out of the way quickly,’ Jack said.

‘Come help us. The wounded one is in a worse state than earlier.’

Jack and Lizzie followed Lev a little way deeper into the woods and found the two airmen waiting. One was leaning against a tree, groaning.

Jack passed him his flask of brandy he had brought specifically for this purpose.

It revived the wounded man slightly, and Jack told him he mustn’t make a sound when they entered the chateau grounds, or it would endanger their lives.

‘Can I count on you?’ Jack asked, his military style taking over and immediately gaining the airman’s respect.

He croaked, ‘Yes, sir.’

Jack nodded and gave the command. ‘Let’s go.’

Jack, Lev and the other airman took it in turns to shoulder more of the wounded airman’s weight.

Jack turned to him. ‘Not a sound, remember.’

They left the safety of the trees and emerged onto the bordering fields of the chateau.

Soon they crossed into the grounds, and Lizzie held her breath.

They must be so quiet, none of the staff or Beau would hear them.

If they thought they were being burgled, the operation could go horribly wrong in an instant.

Lizzie led the way with her torch shining close to the ground. She raised her eyes to the quarters where the staff slept and was relieved to see no lights shone through the gaps in the shutters.

Foxes whined in the distance, but the more background noise there was, the better to cover the human infiltrators.

Lizzie beckoned to the men, inching along slowly behind her, that all was clear.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, they reached the vineyard cellar entrance.

Jack had left it unlocked for easy access.

Lizzie pulled the door and the men, panting from the weight of the airman leaning heavily against them down the stone steps, stumbled into the dark cellars.

They eased him down onto the ground and took a few moments to regain their strength. Jack passed the flask around and they all had a sip of brandy.

‘Seagrove, light the lantern, please,’ Jack said, shining his torch onto a chest by the cavern wall.

Lizzie held the lantern, and the men picked the heavy weight up again. The airman let out a squeal like a wounded animal as they lifted him back onto his feet.

Jack said, ‘Shh,’ as they moved further into the bowels of the cellars.

‘When we are deeper inside, you can make some noise,’ he whispered. A few minutes later, he said, ‘This is it.’

He ran his hand along a wall and pushed hard in a particular spot. There was a small cracking sound, and the wall creaked and moved.

Lizzie’s mouth gaped. She would never have guessed there was an entrance within the thick wall. Jack opened it further, and the men lurched through into a musty smelling room.

‘It’s not the Ritz, but I’m afraid it’s the only place we can keep you safe. There are blankets, pillows, medical supplies, food and drink, so you’ll be alright. Try to get some sleep.’

Jack placed the lantern on a crate in the corner, and Lizzie saw the alarm in the eyes of the English airman. ‘What about Billy?’ he whispered to Jack, loud enough for Lizzie to hear.

‘We’ll make him as comfortable as we can for tonight. We’re working on getting him a doctor.’ Jack patted his shoulder.

After they positioned Billy on a mattress on the stone floor, Jack said they would return the following day.

‘This is the safest place you can be until we can make arrangements to get you back to Blighty.’

Another grunt of agony resounded in the cavernous space and Lizzie wished they could take the poor man into the chateau and let him rest on a comfortable bed and have a doctor tend to him properly.

The panic in the airmen’s eyes clawed at Lizzie as they locked the door back into place.

She prayed Billy would make it through the night and they would soon be on the next leg of their journey to the Pyrenees and into neutral Spain.

Once there, the SOE would transport them safely back to England somehow.

Their orders were to set up a reliable system with a fully operational Resistance network, to get as many airmen out as possible.

‘There will be many more,’ Val had said ominously.

‘If we leave them in Vichy France, we may as well issue them a death warrant. They will almost certainly be found and murdered, even if the locals are brave enough to hide them.’

Val told Lizzie the story of an airman who had been captured in a village near the city of Vichy a few weeks earlier.

They tortured him and then shot him in the town square and put his head on a spike like in medieval times.

They also rounded up the couple who took him in and shot them, too.

The message was clear. ‘If you help Allied airmen, this is how you will end up.’

Lizzie had been distraught. ‘That happened in Vichy France! I thought they were supposed to be neutral.’

Val had quickly dispelled any illusions Lizzie had clung to about the Vichy regime not being as tyrannical as the Nazis.

Outside the cellars, Lev nodded to Lizzie and Jack, then edged silently away.

Lizzie and Jack entered the chateau through the kitchen door they had left on the latch on their way out.

All was as silent as when they had left, and Lizzie’s heartbeat gradually slowed. Despite the acute suffering of the airman, she felt the familiar elation of a successful mission. They had done all they could for tonight.

Exhaustion crept over her, and she looked forward to climbing into bed and snatching a few hours’ sleep before the staff woke at daybreak.

Lizzie entered the kitchen first, and Jack locked the door behind him.

A blurry shadow by the kitchen table moved, and she jumped.

As her eyes adjusted, she made out a hooded, cloaked figure sitting on the bench beside the scarred wooden table where she often drank coffee in between jam and pie making.

Their face wasn’t visible, but the barrel of a gun was pointed at them and a gruff voice said, ‘You two had better tell me where you’ve been and what’s going on.’