Page 8 of Hearts of Resistance
‘And I thought our wedding would only be delayed by a few months and life as we knew it would resume,’ he said drily. ‘How wrong was I?’
Hazel leaned in again, arms encircling his neck as she drew him in for another kiss. Here with him like this, her worries seemed to fade away, the things that had annoyed her earlier disappearing. Perhaps he just said such things to impress her parents or his? Surely he didn’t believe all women were only capable of keeping a home and caring for babies.
‘I’ll miss you,’ John whispered.
‘I’ll miss you, too,’ she replied, jumping back when a door banged. Her father appeared and gave them a stern look.
Hazel folded her arms around herself and smiled at her father when he walked closer.
‘It’s almost time for you to leave for work,’ he said. ‘Time to say your goodbyes.’
Hazel nodded and waited for her father to go back inside, before taking John’s hand and studying his fingers, imagining a wedding ring there, imagining them married, trying to go back in time and recall how excited she’d been when he’d proposed. She’d seen a perfect little house and four perfect little children back then, but now she wondered whether life would ever seem so simple.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow before you go?’ she asked.
He leaned in and stole one last kiss. ‘Tomorrow.’
Hazel walked to work, thankful to be out in the fresh air. She would miss John, but she was starting to wonder if they’d ever be married. Perhaps other couples were the same, separated for so long and left wondering what things would be like once the war was over, or at least that’s what she liked to tell herself. But she was starting to struggle with what was expected of her, feeling as if she was playing the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée routine, when she felt a yearning to do something more. What that was, she didn’t know, but now that she was alone she couldn’t stop the earlier conversation from playing through her mind.
What she hadn’t told anybody, including John, was how her work with the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force had changed. She’d quickly moved on from packing parachutes to working as a plotter, tracking the positions of enemy aircraft and taking over communication duties, and recently she’d started to hear whispers about women working undercover. About women working in roles as important as any man’s. Her superior, Officer McLeod, had asked her more than once about her language skills, and she had wondered whether the rumours were true, whether she might be selected. Her higher-ups had been surprised at her knack for working radios, and only a month earlier when one of their best plotters had disappeared without any explanation, Hazel had been certain the girl had been recruited for something bigger.
She’d only just stepped into work when she heard her name called.
‘Hazel, I need a word.’
She immediately went over to Officer McLeod. Her heart started to race, excitement building. Why did he want to see her again?
He moved to a quiet spot and she stood expectantly in front of him.
‘It’s been brought to my attention that you would make an excellent translator.’
‘Yes, sir, I believe I would.’
‘Can you confirm that you are absolutely fluent in the French language?’
‘Yes, sir. I am.’
‘FrenchFrench, not school French?’
She nodded. ‘Is this to do with undercover work, sir?’
Hazel felt her cheeks start to burn when he gave her a stern look. She knew she was probably turning beetroot red, unsure what she was supposed to say.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I suppose I didn’t really want to say, but I thought “translator” was code for something bigger, something more, well, important andundercover for our country.’ She said the last part quietly, wondering if she’d made a big mistake even mentioning it.
‘I see. Well, let me tell you that such things, if they existed, would be by invitation only.’
She nodded again, not sure at all what he was telling her.
‘I understand,’ she said with some uncertainty. What was his sudden interest in whether or not she could speak French fluently?
‘Report to the Northumberland Hotel tonight at 1700 hours.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’ll be meeting with a man known as Smith. Wait in the lobby and he’ll find you.’
