Page 79 of Hearts of Resistance
They were in a cell of all women, and she gathered that most of them were suspected of being part of the Resistance. She had no idea how she herself was still alive. Perhaps she’d done a half-decent job of convincing them that she was a good Frenchwoman who’d done something wrong, feeding them little bits of information that seemed helpful.
‘Argghhhh,’ the woman moaned.
She slowly rolled over and Rose kept her hand on her, wanting her to know she wasn’t alone. The woman pulled her hands from her face and Rose gasped at her swollen, bruised eye, but then she stifled a scream, falling to the ground beside her.
‘Hazel?’she whispered. ‘Oh, Hazel, what have they done to you?’
Even with the blood-matted hair and contused eye it was unmistakably Hazel. Rose cradled her, pulling her up and holding on to her as they both cried.
‘You’re alive,’ Hazel whispered through badly swollen lips. ‘We were so worried about you.’
‘What happened?’ Rose asked, carefully taking strands of Hazel’s hair off her face. ‘Where is Sophia?’ Her stomach twisted and she wished she hadn’t asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Hazel said. ‘I don’t know what happened to her. But they came for us, they knew where we were and...’ Her voice trailed off and Rose held her and rocked her as if she were a child. ‘We were supposed to be working in small groups – there were too many of us coming and going. We put ourselves at risk.’
‘I’m sorry I never made it back to you,’ Rose said, trying hard not to break down and cry. She’d been so strong, so stoic through her whole ordeal, but seeing Hazel like this, both of them being in the cell together, it was almost enough to break her.
There were moans and murmurs from around them, and Rose helped Hazel up, wanting to get her off the cold concrete. Her hands were frozen, her face ashen probably from the shock as much as the conditions, and they only had one tiny bed to share. But they’d fit if they tucked up close together, and their body heat would help.
With the two of them lying side by side, Hazel’s back to her chest, she ran her hand up and down Hazel’s thigh, trying to help thaw her out.
‘How bad is it?’ Hazel asked, her teeth chattering. ‘What do they do to you?’
Rose took in a deep, shuddering breath. She couldn’t deny Hazel the truth; it would make her better prepared. ‘It’s bad,’ she said. ‘It’s...’ She chose her words carefully. ‘They beat you, and then they offer a little something, to get you to talk. They try to pretend they aren’t so cruel. You need to give them something.’
‘Have you told them anything?’ Hazel whispered.
Rose was still cautious, didn’t trust any of the women in her cell. They hadn’t done anything wrong by her, and they all seemed nice enough, but they were starving and desperate to be released; who knew whether they would use information to get out? She shook her head, just a tiny movement, and she knew Hazel would have felt it.
‘Are we near Normandy?’ Hazel whispered.
‘Yes,’ Rose replied.
‘We’ll be safe soon then,’ Hazel said, chattering still. ‘It’s happening.’
Rose took a deep breath and held Hazel tight. She needed her old friend to survive. She could die, was prepared to die if she had to, but not Hazel. Please, God, not Hazel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOPHIA
Sophia’s legs were burning. There was a deep, painful heat building in her calf muscles and sweeping up into her thighs, pushing down into the balls of her feet and then tingling up every inch of her. Her hips were achy and her hands gripped the handlebars so tight that her knuckles were white. But she never stopped pedalling.
She’d been going for perhaps two hours, she wasn’t sure. But the sun was now high in the sky and a constant beading of sweat had formed above her top lip and greased her forehead. She was hot and wet, but nothing was going to stop her. Thankfully she’d been to the other cell, almost a year ago, before she’d even met Rose, so she had a rough idea of where she was heading and how to get there.
It was a long journey, though, and she knew the reality of that kind of bicycle ride. Her hands would be blistered, along with her feet. She’d be so hungry and thirsty that she’d collapse with exhaustion, her legs buckling beneath her the moment she got off. But nothing was going to slow her down or squash her determination.Nothing other than a German.
Up ahead she would pass through a small village, and she knew there was a chance she could be stopped. There would be a patrol there, perhaps guards watching and waiting where she couldn’t see them. Sophia kept on, taking one hand off the handlebars to swipe across her upper lip, not wanting to ruin her lipstick and look a fright if she had to flirt with danger.
She kept pedalling – another ten minutes, then another, perhaps half an hour – and then she saw them. The Germanswerewaiting, standing there, looking around. They were talking, looking unworried about life, and as she approached she forced a huge grin and waved out, wobbling a little and then laughing at herself as she did it again once she was closer.
‘Hello there!’ she called out in German as she passed by.
One of them laughed and smiled back, another grunted. She smiled at the one who looked least impressed of the three of them, and grabbed an apple from her basket and tossed it to him.
‘Enjoy!’ she called out.
She puckered her lips and blew a kiss, knowing the men would probably love her full lips covered in red lipstick. This was why female agents were so good; it was easy to flirt with a man and give the impression that she was nothing more than a silly girl, and most of the time they bought it.
