Page 32 of Summer of Fire
‘What do you see there?’ Jeanne said, pointing her finger towards a pattern. ‘It’s on the side of the cup, which means this is a sign of something for you in the near future.’
Lizzie studied the dark pattern. ‘It reminds me of a black bird.’
Jeanne nodded. ‘Me too. My intuition tells me it’s the symbol of a black raven, which is a good omen. You are a lucky girl. You have a sacred messenger watching over you.’
‘What a mysterious message.’
‘It’s a good job you have a protector, for you will need one.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ Lizzie said, shivering.
‘Don’t be afraid. All will be well if you trust the black raven.’
Lizzie went to bed and thought no more about it after deciding it was just an old wives’ tale and not worth brooding over. Her last thought before she fell asleep was of Jack, and she wondered where he was now.
In the morning, Lizzie set off on Jeanne’s old bicycle. The black paint on the frame was peeling, and the basket was heavily worn, but she rattled along nicely, enjoying the breeze and sun on her face. The vineyards fanned out before her on either side of the track and filled her with a sense of possibility as she gazed at the patchwork vista of green and yellow fields on the horizon.
A church spire sparkled against the stretch of bright blue sky, which was interrupted only by the occasional wispy cloud. It was hard to imagine such beauty could still exist in this era of cruelty and evil, and this breathtaking countryside was merely the temporary canvas.
It would be harvesting time soon and as she whizzed past the hedgerows, clusters of plump, juicy grapes swayed on the vines. The Nazi high command adored champagne, and Jeanne said it was still very much in demand for their lavish dinners and parties, despite the misery permeating Europe.
The journey into Reims was much quicker on the bicycle. She had thought it would be, but didn’t want to risk being late in case she took a wrong turn. The country lanes were like a maze, and it would be easy enough to get lost, so she set out early, anyway.
Lizzie could not miss the meeting with the mystery woman under any circumstances. This could be her one shot at finding out about Hannah and what the Reims network needed from SOE to get back into action.
Lizzie arrived thirty minutes early, parked her bicycle on one side of the gothic cathedral, and pushed the heavy dooropen. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the nave, and as she walked slowly down the aisle, they were drawn magnetically to the famousGrande Rose,themedieval stained-glasscircular window.
Looking around, Lizzie selected one of the many vacant, intricately carved wooden pews, about halfway along, and sank to her knees on theprie-dieu. She closed her eyes and said a quick silent prayer, asking that all would be well.
Her yellow silk scarf was askew from the ride into town, so she straightened it and made herself presentable. Glancing at her watch, the time seemed to trickle like treacle.
Finally, the hour hit twelve, and she was relieved that a few old women still lingered in prayer, so she wasn’t alone in the cathedral. It had occurred to her today’s rendezvous might be an elaborate trap—but how would the woman have known to remark on the scarf?
Unless Hannah had been tortured and revealed the code. Jack told her that the yellow scarf was one of the recognition codes he and Hannah had put in place in the early days before the Special Operations Executive was officially set up.
Lizzie shivered. The woman in the café had seemed genuine, so she dismissed the suspicion and turned her mind to a positive outcome. She heard the creak and bounce of the heavy old door, and the languid summer breeze rippled in to announce a new arrival.
Rising from her kneeling position, she sat on the bench and glanced over her shoulder to see only one old woman remained on her knees, her lips moving as she communicated with God.
The woman from the café wore a hat and her long jet-black hair was modestly concealed. Lizzie wondered whether it was to make her less memorable. The woman walked towards her, hips sashaying and heels tapping on the hard floor. She slipped into the pew behind her. Lizzie didn’tknow what to do, so she waited in silence. Her heart raced, and she tried not to think about the terrifying Gestapo nightmare.
After what seemed like an interminable time, the woman spoke in a low voice. ‘I have a gift for you.’
Lizzie swallowed. Her throat was dry. ‘Is it what I came for?’
‘Yes,’ came the voice over her shoulder.
‘And is Alice well?’ Lizzie asked, using Hannah’s cover name.
‘I don’t know what has become of her.’
‘And the others?’
‘Nowhere is safe now. Take the gift and leave,’ she whispered. ‘Bonne chance.’
Lizzie heard the tap of heels once more when the woman rose and walked out the way she had come. Then she heard the soft thud of the door closing behind her and she was gone. The meeting couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes.
Lizzie’s heart thudded erratically as she tried to understand what she was supposed to do.
