Page 59 of Summer of Fire
CHAPTER 29
‘Congratulations, you passed with flying colours,’ said Charlie to Lizzie the following morning when he summoned the remaining candidates to his makeshift office, one by one, to speak with him.
‘That’s good news,’ Lizzie said. ‘What time do I fly out?’
‘In the early hours. I’ll confirm details later.’
That afternoon, they were called into one of the drawing rooms and found a busy team preparing their clothing and kits for them to take on their missions. Lizzie was grateful when one of them handed her what she thought of as herlucky yellow silk scarf.
She’d given her case in at SOE HQ upon her return last time and the only thing she’d held onto was the red lipstick, and that was only because she’d forgotten she had it.
When they were all sorted, and their cases were packed, Charlie lifted Lizzie’s hair and looped a chain around her neck. ‘It has a suicide pill in it. You open it like this,’ he said, clicking the back of the silver pendant.‘Voila.It goes without saying, I hope you’ll never have to use it.’
One of the team called her over. ‘Now for your papers.’He showed her various forged French documents, some of which were familiar. ‘And this. It’s acertificate of non-belonging to the Jewish race.’
‘I didn’t have one of those last time,’ Lizzie said. ‘Is that really necessary?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ the man replied, his expression grave. ‘The Nazis are enforcing ever-tighter restrictions on Jews in France just like in Germany before the war.’
Lizzie struggled to digest what he was telling her. She knew about the fate of Hannah’s parents, but recently she’d heard the stories of more and more terrible things befalling the German Jews. They had been stripped of all their civil rights and there were reports of them disappearing on trains.
But this… Now she was holding this certificate with her own hands, it seemed all too real. Listening to someone reporting on the wireless was far removed from the reality of the systematic persecution of the Jewish people. Lizzie shivered as she tucked the papers away and her resolve to do all she could to stop the Nazis deepened.
The moon was barely visible behind the clouds when they took off that night from a field near the stately home. ‘We’ll have our work cut out landing in this. It’ll be something of a blind drop,’ said the pilot. ‘Let’s hope the reception committee is there to guide the way with torches.’
Lizzie sat bolt upright, too tense to relax. Her head was spinning with conflicting thoughts, and she tried to calm herself. Soon she’d be in enemy territory, and she must gather her wits. The past week had been a whirlwind, and she was mentally and physically drained, but there was no time for that.
Eventually, Lizzie closed her eyes and managed to fall into a light doze until she heard the pilot alert her. Theywere only ten minutes away now. The moon wasn’t any brighter in Reims and she shivered as the adrenaline flooded her system. She would shortly be falling through the air with a parachute. Again.
What if Jack wasn’t there to meet her?
She pushed the thought aside. Doubt had no place in this game of cat and mouse. Lizzie refused to play the role of mouse, so she must be as quiet and nimble as a cat.
Her nerves fuelled her and transformed into excitement. This is what she signed up for. People were depending on her, and she was determined not to let them or herself down.
She squinted out the window, but all she could see was dense blackness. The jerk of the plane descending through the French skies buffeted her about and she slipped off the seat and banged her hand. Lizzie clambered back onto the seat and tried not to think that they could be shot down at any moment if they were unlucky. She told herself the brave RAF pilots risked their lives every time they made these flights. She could do it once more.
Lizzie had boarded the plane wearing her jumpsuit and kitted out with her parachute gear. Jack wasn’t there to make sure it was all fitted correctly like last time, but a member of the team at the airfield reminded her how to attach herself to the cable before jumping. Lizzie stood and followed the instructions in a dreamlike state.
‘Once you’re safely down, I’ll release some basic supplies by parachute. I’m ordered not to land,’ shouted the pilot.
The noise of the aircraft reverberated in Lizzie’s ears.
‘Thank you. I’m ready,’ Lizzie called back, her heart thudding so hard it felt like it was in her throat.
The hatch opened and wind rushed into her face. She called out 1, 2, 3 as much for herself as to let the pilot know. There was no going back now. She hurled herself into the abyss. The summer’s night air had an icy sting to it when sheexited the aircraft and plummeted into the dark depths. She prayed her parachute would open.
After what seemed like an eternity, it did, and then finally her feet touched the ground, and she landed in a pile of canvas, illuminated in a circle of torchlight.
Someone darted over to help her up. ‘Bonsoir,’ said a deep voice she recognised but she couldn’t see the accompanying face clearly.
‘Pierre, is that you?’
He embraced her and assured her it was.
‘Move out of the way, everyone,’ he called out.
Lizzie saw boxes of various sizes tumbling onto the grass, like manna from heaven.
