Page 22 of Hearts of Resistance
‘Good. I’ll be in touch with more information, but you’ll most likely spend a couple of weeks training and going through the recruitment phase. Then you’ll head to Scotland for your paramilitary training should you pass the first level.’
She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as she listened to him speak.Paramilitary training?The idea of it made her head spin, but then she had no idea what she’d been expecting. Of course she needed training! It wasn’t like she was going to be tucked safely in a room deciphering and translating messages. This was war.
‘Godspeed,’ Smith said, dismissing her.
Hazel swallowed and summoned her courage back, standing straight and taking a deep breath. ‘And to you, sir. Thank you for your time.’
Hazel had never been so nervous in all her life. From the moment she’d told Smith she was officially volunteering two weeks earlier, to finding out what was required of her, it had been a whirlwind of activity. She was half expecting to wake from a dream, it was so surreal. Now, she was arriving at a house in the countryside that looked so peaceful from where she was standing, but was home to the SOE training and recruitment. The fact she was doing work that had previously been reserved strictly for men sent a hum of anticipation through her, adrenaline urging her on. And Smith’s final words to her were still playing through her mind days later.
‘We need to set Europe ablaze. And women like you will be the ones doing this, because you can blend in and no one will suspect a thing unless you’re caught.’
‘This is Wanborough Manor?’
She glanced beside her at the man who’d spoken. They’d travelled together on the train and he was pleasant enough, but Hazel had been so worried that it was a test that she hadn’t known what to say to him. Was she supposed to let on what she was doing, discuss anything with him about their training? Or was he already undercover, travelling with her to see how easy it was to get her to talk? She’d already been given her undercover story, which they called theirlegend, and she wasn’t stupid enough to let someone fool her before she’d even begun.
‘I suppose it is,’ she replied carefully. ‘Shall we go in?’
They’d come to a quiet, peaceful area of Surrey, and an Elizabethan house loomed before them. She had no idea what to expect, but she did know that she’d be doing things here she’d never in her lifetime imagined.
There were two men outside the house and she approached them cautiously.
‘We’ve been expecting you,’ one of them said.
‘I’m Hazel.’ She gave her real name because she hadn’t been told not to, although she chose not to reveal her surname to make her identity somewhat harder to verify.
‘I know,’ he said drily. ‘This way.’ Her travelling companion was speaking to the other man as Hazel was led away.
She guessed the beautiful manor had been requisitioned, as many had during the war, and she was sad to see how dusty and unkempt it was, even though it still looked so regal from the outside. She could imagine how it would have looked before the war, no doubt full of servants and with everything inside gleaming.
There was little time to look around, though, as she followed the man through the house, clutching her bag in one hand and her coat in the other. She played through her story in her head, something she’d been doing constantly for the past two days: she was a French student, loved art history and had friends in England.
‘Sit.’
She looked up. The man she’d been following was pointing to a chair. She expected him to leave and for someone else to arrive, but instead he sat down.
‘What is your name?’ he asked in French.
Hazel gave a coy smile, ready to play her role. She was a Frenchwoman, so of course she wouldn’t hesitate to answer in French.
‘Hazel,’ she said. ‘And yours? Tell me, what is it you’re doing here?’
‘Ralph,’ he said. ‘Well done.’ He was speaking in English now.
‘If you want to check I have my story straight, I won’t disappoint you,’ she assured him. ‘What I don’t know is how to stay alive in the field. That’s what I need help with.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Just stay out of the cooler and you’ll make it through.’
Hazel’s eyebrows shot up and she cursed the fact that she’d reacted at all. ‘The cooler?’
‘It’s where we send the failed recruits to cool off,’ he explained. ‘Build rapport with those around you, show us that you’re capable of being in uncomfortable situations or meeting new people. Then we’ll move on to training you.’
‘Thank you for the advice,’ she replied.
‘Oh, and don’t forget you can change your mind at any stage. This is dangerous work and we only want people in the field, man or woman, who have volunteered to be there.’
Hazel understood that. She was surprised at how often it had been said, though, especially when all of their men had been sent off without any concern for whether or not they wanted to be soldiers. But then she supposed the type of work she’d put herself forward for needed the person to be absolutely focused on the task. It was something she’d tried not to overthink for fear of changing her mind.
‘Help yourself to a drink while you’re waiting.’ He stood, turned and pointed to a bottle of liquor and two glasses.
