Page 36 of Hearts of Resistance
They all sat silently, listening to him. It was the first time anything like that had been said, anything that wasn’t skirting around why they were here and what they’d be doing, even though they’d all had a fair idea of the work they’d signed up for.
‘Once you’ve been through your final paces,’ he told them, putting his cup back on the table and leaning forward, ‘you will be asked one more time if you’re certain this is the work you want to be doing, and then we’ll establish your best skills and place you accordingly.’
This was it. She’d done it. She only wished she could tell her parents what she was doing, how capable she’d proven to be, instead of sending them her nondescript letters that said how much she was enjoying her new translation job, as she’d been told to. She knew they’d never believe it anyway, the idea of her toting a gun or wielding a knife, let alone managing two cover stories and preparing to set out on her first true test in the field.
‘Don’t forget to keep up your letters home, maintaining your legends for your family at all times. You need to be your new identity from this moment on. Your life, and that of your fellow recruits, will depend upon it.’
‘Will we all be sent to France?’ Hazel asked.
‘Those with the best French immersion skills will most likely be parachuted in, yes,’ their recruiter said.
Hazel saw him look up and she turned to see why he was looking past her. There was Smith, her original recruiter, standing in the doorway, propped against the frame as he smiled at them all.
‘So this is the best of the bunch, huh?’ he asked with a smile.
His face was so different stretched into a smile, since she’d only seen him in recruitment and interrogation mode until now. She wondered where he’d been and what his ongoing role was.
‘Certainly is. I’m just letting them in on a few trade secrets.’
Both men laughed.
‘Going back to your question,’ Smith said, coming into the room. ‘You will receive specialised parachute training, those of you who will be deployed into the field in France, and some of you will stay in London, depending on what you’re assigned to do.’
Hazel reached for the pot of tea, not caring if it had cooled. She needed something to sip while she listened.
‘I’m here today to assist and observe, so ignore me unless you have questions to ask,’ Smith said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing what you’re all capable of.’
Hazel sipped her tea, trying to stay calm. It was like she’d been transported to a different place and time. How on earth was she in a room with special operatives in charge of putting together recruits to be parachuted –parachuted– into France? If she somehow managed to survive, she doubted her fiancé would believe even a word of it. Or her mother, for that matter. Or maybe she’d still be maintaining her story after the war, pretending she’d done nothing more than a typical woman’s job while he was away.
Or maybe everyone would know her name, and those of the other Resistance members. Because the Germans had advanced too far already – she knew that and so did everybody else. Yet it was the Resistance making waves and tackling them head-on, and that was exactly why she was prepared to risk everything. She wanted to go to France. No matter what her posting or what her task, she was going to say yes.
Hazel stood, cleared her plate and cup and walked into the kitchen. She could decipher messages, drop passwords into conversations, recruit if she needed to and code. And she could kill. Never before had she even thought about whether or not she could take another person’s life, and now she knew, that if it was a matter of life and death, she’d do it without hesitation. She’d have to.
She glanced down at her hand, the tiny red mark on her skin a reminder of what had taken place the night before. The Germans would have to do a lot worse to get so much as a reaction from her.
CHAPTER NINE
ROSE
BREST, FRANCE
1943
The days and weeks had passed quickly, and Rose could hardly believe that it was almost a month since she’d been recruited by Josephine. Now she was anxiously waiting for the cover of darkness, part of Josephine’s covert monthly operation to ferry men to safety.
She sighed, feeling restless. The submarine was scheduled to come when the moon was but a sliver in the sky. Only then, once every four weeks, would they send the rowboats to shore to collect the allies needing transport, which meant that she had a dangerous ride on her bicycle ahead of her.
Rose touched her stomach, something she would never have done if she hadn’t been alone staring out the window into the dusky early evening. She hadn’t felt her baby move. She wasn’t even sure she was supposed to yet, but she wasn’t about to ask anyone, not even Josephine, for advice.
By her estimates she was about four months along now, which meant that soon her rounded stomach would be more noticeable, harder to hide from those she saw and worked with on a regular basis. She’d hide it for as long as she could, the baby growing inside her the only connection she had to Peter now.
She blinked and shook her head as if to banish all thoughts of him. These days she refused to go there, never let her mind wander to what could have been, but their baby was a constant reminder. Of why she hated the war, of what she was fighting for, of what she could have had.
Darkness would be upon them within the next half hour, and Rose took a sip of water and cleared her throat. It was time to go.
‘Come on,’ she said, knocking on the stairs to alert her visitors to come down. ‘It’s time.’
They would make part of the journey to the coast in the dark, but for the first part they needed some light to navigate their way by bicycle. From then on it was a slow walk, trying to avoid being seen by the German guards stationed all along the coast.
