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L izzie tied her yellow silk scarf around her neck and examined her reflection in the mirror. If they ever needed good luck, it would be tonight. Lizzie saw her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes shone, giving her a slightly manic look.

Jack’s tall reflection appeared in the mirror beside her, and he rested his hands on her shoulders. ‘Ready, Seagrove?’

She nodded. ‘Ready, Raven.’

Using their official code names helped them click into mission mode. Tonight was their most dangerous operation since arriving in Toulouse. They must lay the foundation for the new network, and tonight’s events would serve many purposes.

They would receive the first drop from the SOE, the airmen would vanish from right under the noses of the Vichy regime, and they would work hand in hand with the nominated new leader, Lev, and his key people, Marguerite and the contact from St. Girons.

The chateau was in darkness and all the shutters firmly closed when Lizzie and Jack crept out of the kitchen door into the warm night.

Lizzie wore an old dress and scruffy sandals she’d borrowed from Suzanne, and Jack wore the clothes of a labourer with braces and a cap on his head, Lev style.

That way, if they were spotted after curfew, they could pretend they were casual summer labourers sleeping in the vineyards.

The waxing grey moon floated in the black sky, which was decorated by a smattering of glowing stars. Jack lit their way with his torch, and they took careful steps across the uneven ground, and Lizzie felt her chest thud in time with her feet.

‘It’s not an ideal night for a pickup.’ Jack glanced up at the sky.

‘I wondered about landing in conditions like these. They usually come on a full moon.’

‘That’s ideal, but as you see, solar movements don’t always correspond with the urgency on the ground.’

When they entered the shadowy vineyards, Lizzie said, ‘It’s spooky with the vines swaying like that.’

Jack shone his torch in front of her so she could see more clearly.

‘Ouch!’ Lizzie squealed.

Jack reached for his gun and spun around, ready to pounce into action. ‘What?’

‘Oh, sorry, it’s nothing. A branch grazed my arm, that’s all.’

‘Take a deep breath and stay calm. It’s all okay. No one knows we’re here,’ Jack said.

Lizzie breathed deeply. On previous missions, she’d been out every day on undercover work, and it had built up her endurance.

This time, she’d become too relaxed at the chateau, waiting to respond to events.

Living amongst enemies and integrating in the local community was a different kind of spycraft.

Another time, on this type of mission, she would know what to expect.

Dry twigs snapped beneath their feet as they walked, and Lizzie’s senses were heightened as they approached the cellars. There were so many pieces to the operation. First, they must extract the wounded airman from the cellar and get him to the meadow on the other side of the vineyards.

As they reached the cellar entrance, three hazy figures stepped out from the shadows of a copse of olive trees. Lizzie recognised Lev and Marguerite, and presumed the third was from St. Girons.

In the pale, ghostly light, Lizzie squinted and saw a man with black hair, dressed similarly to Lev. He was about Marguerite’s height, a good head shorter than Lev and Jack.

Marguerite moved towards them and said in a hushed voice. ‘Meet my friend, Angel, who has been helping us get our people out.’

Lizzie’s jaw hung open as she stared. She saw the recognition dawn in the new arrival’s eyes.

‘I should have known it would be you!’ Lizzie gasped.

Then they flew into each other’s arms, squeezing so hard they took their breath away.

‘Me too!’

Jack stared at them, his mouth curving into a smile. ‘Angel!’

Then Jack put his arms around them both and they all hugged, overjoyed to be reunited.

‘It’s so good to see you. What a surprise. It didn’t even cross my mind it would be you two,’ Hannah said.

Lizzie noticed Lev and Marguerite looked baffled.

Marguerite said. ‘What are we missing? How do you three know each other?’

‘Let’s just say we are old friends. You couldn’t have recruited anyone better,’ Lizzie said.

Lev, who had been silent until now, stepped closer. ‘It was more the other way around. Angel recruited us.’

‘None of us can do this alone,’ Hannah said.

Lev replied, ‘It seems your reputation precedes you.’

They huddled together talking in whispers, Lizzie elated to see Hannah again so unexpectedly.

Jack said, ‘Sorry to be a killjoy, but we must press on. There will be plenty of time to catch up properly in the morning when this is all over.’

They entered the pitch-black cellar with only a lantern. It wouldn’t do for a trace of light to filter into the valley at this hour.

Lizzie and Hannah held hands, which spoke volumes in the silence.

Jack and Lev uncovered the entrance to the concealed room, and they slipped inside one by one.

The small room was dimly lit, and a sniffle met their ears.

A silhouette hunched on an upside-down crate next to a mattress, his head in his hands, making whimpering sounds of quiet desperation.

‘Oh my God, what happened?’ Lizzie asked.

The airman raised his tear-stained face. ‘Poor Billy was in a terrible state all day. I tried to get him to hang on for tonight. I promised we would get him home to his family, but just before eleven he slipped away.’

Jack bent over the deceased airman and gently touched his forehead and closed his eyes. ‘May he rest in peace.’

‘I failed him,’ his friend said, his voice breaking. ‘His wife recently gave birth to a new baby, you know. He never even got to see his son.’

Lizzie moved towards the distraught airman, who was a hero in the Battle of Britain, but was crushed by the death of his brother in arms.

‘It’s not your fault. You did all you could,’ Lizzie said, soothing him. ‘He lost too much blood; you heard the doctor.’

It was hard to watch a grown man, especially a war hero, weep, but she understood the impersonal nature of war.

Eliminating the enemy was something they did by rote, without feeling.

If they let themselves feel every time they killed an opponent, they wouldn’t be able to function.

But to lose a dear friend made it all too real.

Lizzie prayed for the airman’s soul, and for his friend, and she prayed she would never witness one of her loved ones die in such a wretched way, unable to save them because they couldn’t get the care they needed.

So far, she had been lucky, and Lizzie touched her yellow scarf.

It was best not to think about it. Most SOE agents who had been recruited since she joined at the inception of the organisation created on Churchill’s orders to wreak havoc on the enemy didn’t survive more than six weeks.

Lizzie read the reports in London, and although she and Jack rarely talked about the high mortality rate, it was ever-present in their thoughts.

They were both fully aware of the price on their heads every time either of them went undercover.

‘Where shall we bury him?’ Hannah asked.

Her voice belied her formidable male disguise.

Lizzie stared at her. Her blonde hair and eyebrows were dyed black.

And her breasts were invisible beneath her shirt.

Lizzie remembered how she had bound her chest during their mission in Paris when she first saw her pretend to be a man.

Hannah was an expert at disguise and Lizzie learnt a lot from her.

The airman’s voice interrupted Lizzie’s thoughts. ‘We must take him home. That’s the only thing we can do to honour his and his family’s sacrifice.’

Jack said, ‘Absolutely, but he will not be easy to carry and the plane is due in around thirty minutes. We’d better get going.’

A heavy silence fell as they wrapped the fallen airman in a blanket and between them lifted his deadweight.

They carried him out of the dark cellar which had served as his tomb, and into the watery moonlight.

The only sounds were the buzzing of insects and rustling of creatures who came to life at night.

It was fortunate they were many hands because they were all breathing hard as they navigated the craggy path through the sloping vineyards. Holding their solemn burden, they trudged into the meadow Luc had advised them to use for the assignation with the British plane.

They laid the body down carefully on the grass and waited for the pickup, as they caught their breath.

Lizzie thought of the pilot and navigator who would find themselves transporting the fallen airman home, instead of rescuing two heroes.

Lizzie sighed. Such was war. There was no escaping tragedy, and it found them at every turn, usually when they least expected it.