Page 20 of Hearts of Resistance
Sophia heard the order and voluntarily moved away, shaking her head and putting out her hand before anyone had to take her. ‘Leave me alone! I will go to my room.’
She hurried past, letting her tears fall now as she turned her back on her mother and fled. She entered the house in a hurry, eyes blurred, and dashed up the stairs. Voices called out to her, but she ignored them and hurried to her mother’s room. She allowed herself a moment to pause at the mirror, reaching for her mother’s perfume and spraying a quick mist on to her wrist. She’d smelt it all her life, would for ever be able to conjure that scent and think of her mother holding her close.
She shut her eyes, letting the aroma waft around her. She could still remember her mother singing, getting herself ready for the day and staring down at their grounds from her window. Sophia had often walked up beside her and pressed her forehead to the glass, looking down at birds bathing in a fountain at the entrance to their garden. She remembered thinking that from her mother’s window, everything seemed so normal still. In their home, the only thing that had changed was the portrait of Adolf Hitler hanging in the hallway, the Führer’s face staring solemnly at them when they passed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as the memory of her mother faded, replaced with the sinister image of what she’d just witnessed. Sophia saw a handkerchief and stood, reaching for it and spraying her mother’s perfume all over it and then tucking it into her blouse for safekeeping. Then she rummaged in her mother’s jewellery case, taking her other rings and diamonds, pushing them into her pocket and hurriedly looking around. There was a scarf on the bed and she snatched it, then took her mother’s best warm coat from the closet. It wasn’t much, but it might be the only chance she would get to take what she needed. She couldn’t find any money, but the items she had would be enough if she needed something to sell at least.
She dug her nails into her palms as she fled the room, the weight of her mother’s rings her only comfort. Then she quietly walked down the stairs again, careful to behave sedately in case anyone saw her. Only once she’d disappeared out the front door and saw that no one was around did she start to walk faster. She hurried away, grabbing her bag from where she’d dropped it, until she was out on the road. She was carrying her mother’s coat, too hot and flustered to wear it now, and although she wanted to run she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. She needed to get home and figure out what on earth she could do about Alex. If he was found because of her, she’d never forgive herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
HAZEL
LONDON, ENGLAND
1943
Hazel noticed the smile on Officer McLeod’s face the moment she saw him. He looked amused, or...She stared back at him. She wasn’t sure what – maybe it was a look of smugness – but whatever it was, she was about to find out because he was beckoning her over.
‘Is there a problem, sir?’ she asked.
It had been a week since her interview with Smith, and just under a week since she’d waved her fiancé off for the third time, and she hadn’t heard a thing since. But she’d thought about the meeting plenty, including who might have recommended her for the job other than the man standing in front of her.
‘Seems I was right about you,’ he said. ‘You have another interview. In two hours’ time.’
She tried to stop her jaw from dropping. ‘Today?’
‘Yes. They don’t muck around.’
Hazel nodded. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of a second interview or what would happen next. She’d imagined she would have heard already if they wanted something more from her. ‘So does this mean...,’ she started.
‘It means,’ her boss said, lowering his voice, ‘that they checked you out through MI5 and you were passed by the powers that be. It also means you were one of the few women to impress them in that first interview. I don’t put anyone forward lightly, but I’ve been watching you.’
‘Why?’ she asked, regretting the question the moment it had passed her lips.
‘I had a good feeling about you the moment I saw you plotting for the first time on your own, and the fact you speak fluent French is a huge advantage.’
Hazel felt her cheeks flush from his praise. ‘Well, thank you, sir. I’m honoured to be, well, to even be considered for this type of position.’ The truth was she still didn’t know what she was actually being considered for, but it was something secretive and important, and that meant it was something she needed to be doing. That is, if those in the know thought she was a suitable candidate.
‘You’re dismissed for the day to attend the meeting. If you don’t return, good luck and Godspeed with whatever it is you are assigned to.’
He dismissed her with a nod and a smile, and she walked away in a daze. She felt she was on the verge of something huge. Women in particular seemed to be in demand for this Resistance movement – perhaps because the higher-ups felt women could go more under the radar, so to speak, than men – and the very thought of being involved in something so covert, in the field, was enough to send her heart racing and her stomach swirling.
‘Thank you for seeing me again at such short notice,’ Smith said.
Hazel felt more nervous this time than she had the first. Maybe it was because she somewhat knew what to expect. Or maybe it was because she knew her life might be about to change for ever.
‘Are you able to tell me why I’m here now?’ she asked, proud that her voice sounded so strong.
His mouth tilted upwards slightly from its previously straight line. ‘What do you know of the SOE?’ He cleared his throat. ‘The Special Operations Executive.’
She stared back at him. What was shesupposedto know about it? ‘Well, I know it’s a secret operation, that it’s part of this whole Resistance movement.’
‘In short, what you need to know is that the SOE is about getting close to the enemy,’ Smith said, sitting in the chair and looking more at ease than he had the other day. This time around felt less like an interrogation and she was relieved. ‘It also involves working in France.’
Hazel smiled. ‘I see. Which is why you wanted to know about the depth of my language skills and understanding of more than just Paris.’
‘Before we go any further, I need you to know that if you want to be part of this, if we take you on and send you to France, there is a great risk you won’t make it back to London alive.’
