Page 49 of Resistance
Yvette had told him about her life on the farm and back home in London. She suspected he enjoyed their trade of tales, his of the Revolution, hers of chickens and big red buses. She hadn’t given away too much, but enough perhaps to take Konstantin’s mind off living in a hole underground, just as talking to Teddy and Jakob about their families seemed to cheer them for a moment and remind them not to give in. The agent rule book would have advised against it but then again, whoever wrote it didn’t live on the precipice of fear, miles from home, never knowing what tomorrow may bring.
‘I am sure the bear killer of Petropavlovsk would have no trouble dealing with Vincent, now try to sleep. I will stay here tonight in case they arrive. Close your eyes because we will have a long journey ahead.’
For once the Russian did as he was told.
Yvette was huddled under the pile of sacking, Konstantin by her side. As always, once the sun set her thoughts skittered like beetles, remembering instructions, imagining their escape route should it be required, dreading the impending journey to the Atlantic Coast.
How she wished Vincent had sent her to Nantes instead of him, then she’d have been able to see Estelle. She had sent him with a message, in case Anatoly had been taken to her safe house, but he could be anywhere in the city. Yvette looked down at her ring and sighed as she touched the precious stones, like they connected her to Estelle.
The time seemed to crawl by as they waited for news. Surely soon they would hear from London via a message on the radio, Yvette knew what to listen for; ‘The crow will sing three times in the morning’. But down there, in the candlelit cave below the fields there was no chance of hearing a bird sing, let alone a code. They had to move the evaders soon, they’d been there too long already.
Once more Yvette prayed for Vincent to arrive. She was worried about him and he made her feel safe because no matter how hard she tried to be strong and brave, self-preservation was getting harder each day.
The atmosphere had changed, she could feel it, a shift, ever since the death of Jörg. She feared reprisals were coming but in what form was anyone’s guess. Bloody Béatrice, she had a lot to answer for and it felt as though because of her, the walls were closing in on them all.
And she felt sad too, because each time she’d left the house to take food to the men hiding in the caves she’d kissed Tante Helene goodbye, as though she was simply heading into town to get provisions. Deep down, both of them knew it might be for the last time because as soon as she got word from Florian or Vincent, Yvette would have to make the journey west with the evaders and it was riddled with danger. Even if she made it to the rendezvous with the navy boats, there was no guarantee she’d make it back to the village.
Yvette’s identity papers were fastened inside one pocket of her coat that was wrapped around her for warmth, along with some francs folded around a note, one she couldn’t bear to leave behind, and the gun Vincent had given her was in the other pocket. That’s all she would take with her if and when they fled.
A shudder, not from cold, even though the cave wasn’t the warmest place to be even in May, but that damn sense of dread that had been creeping up on her, ever since she’d left Nantes. It had been Estelle’s cautionary tone, an uncharacteristic hint at danger that left Yvette with a sense of foreboding and then there was Jörg.
She didn’t want to think of that anymore, it was counterproductive so instead she turned to check on Konstantin who had woken from his dozing and was also deep in thought.
‘Are you okay, comrade?’
‘I will be once Anatoly is here.’ Konstantin pulled the sacking further over their bodies.
‘It shouldn’t be long now. The signal from London will come soon.’
Konstantin didn’t comment, he focused on her instead. ‘You seem tense, Zaya, what is wrong? You are usually so cheerful, but today you are different.’
‘Ah, you are always so intuitive, comrade, I can hide nothing from you, can I?’ Yvette saw Konstantin smile. Her term of endearment always amused him. ‘And yes, I am tense which I suppose means I have failed dismally because aren’t agents supposed to be cool and collected, not jumpy and tetchy?’
‘I really wouldn’t know, Zaya. I am just a navigator for the Russian Air Force and have no special skills where espionage is concerned.’ The skin around his eyes creased as he smiled, then he rested his head against the stone wall of the cave.
Yvette smiled too. ‘Mmm, if you say so, but I do wonder if that’s why Anatoly’s plane crashed… either your navigating skills weren’t up to scratch or perhaps you were just hitching a ride to Egypt, on business, so to speak. I did wonder what happened to your uniform along the way.’
Yvette heard him chuckling but didn’t expect an answer, which was fine, secrets were secrets, but she attempted to interrogate him further, to pass the time if nothing else.
‘What will you do when you get back to England or is that another mystery?’
Konstantin shrugged his shoulders. ‘That I do not know, but I will be fine. Do not worry, Zaya.’
Yvette was about to ask him if Anatoly would be sent back to Russia when there was a sound beyond the inner door to the cave, one she recognised as the outer door being opened, causing her stomach to lurch and fear to trickle slowly down her spine.
Taking the gun from her pocket, Yvette scrambled to her feet and sped towards one of the large barrels and took cover, training the sight on the door. Konstantin had nudged Jakob and Teddy awake and immediately aware of danger, all three sought hiding places in the shadowy crevices and crannies, blowing out the candles as they ran. Yvette strained her ears and eyes as the only light was from one remaining candle by the doorway. There would be no footsteps, the path down to the cave was earth, and unless the next sound she heard was the voice of Vincent or Florian they were all doomed. Then it came.
Four taps on the door, then two. ‘Yvette, it is me, Vincent.’
Joy and relief accompanied the sigh when Yvette exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath but despite that, rather than return to normal, her heartbeat pounded. Taking the key from her pocket, Yvette unlocked the door. He was there. Alone.
At first, she thought maybe Anatoly and the other refugee would be somewhere behind, maybe hobbling, so many thoughts rushed at once but when Vincent stepped inside and closed the door her fears returned.
Standing beside the candle, their faces illuminated by a flickering glow, Yvette and Vincent shared a moment, their lips an inch apart, the look in his eyes told her he’d missed her, then the trance was broken by footsteps emerging from the shadows.
Vincent turned to face Konstantin and the others, but it was Yvette who spoke first.
‘Vincent, where are they, what has happened?’
