Page 16 of Shadows In Paris
‘Lizzie back in the Lizzie,’ said Jack, with his charming smile.
She sensed he was putting on a brave face for the moment of their separation.
The Lysander engine whirred louder. ‘You’d better climb aboard,’ Jack said, squeezing her hand one last time and then releasing it reluctantly.
Lizzie felt his eyes drilling into her back as she walked towards the plane like a prisoner approaching the noose. Once aboard, she turned briefly to wave to him. For a second, time stood still, and the world disappeared. The lovers were transfixed, like magnets perpetually drawn to each other through a universal law.
Then Lizzie disappeared into the plane and lost sight of him, as she fought to hold back the tears.
CHAPTER 7
Lizzie perched on the hard seat in the plane, every sinew of her body rigid with anticipation of what was to come. Her mind whirled with thoughts of Jack and how she would not see his face or feel his arms around her for weeks or even months, depending how the mission went.
She should be emotionally prepared for this.
He had warned her countless times about the dangers of agents getting involved, but she had fallen for him, nonetheless.
Images of their time together over the winter and how they had spent every possible moment in each other’s company clawed at her heart and she felt bereft.
Her melancholic reverie was interrupted when the navigator called out that it was nearly time. They were almost at the low altitude point where she would have to hurl herself into the Reims sky. She had learnt from previous jumps that they flew low to minimise the risk of being spotted and shot down by the Luftwaffe.
The little plane bounced and groaned as it dropped lower,and the seat shifted beneath her, and she almost slid onto the floor. Her helmet was back on, and now she stood up shakily, wishing she was safely in bed with Jack fast asleep. The navigator reached over to clip her parachute strap to the static line overhead.
In some ways, it would be easier to jump without Jack watching her on the plane. Leaving him was always the toughest part. She summoned a watery smile for the man who was risking his life to drop her into the hands of the Resistance in the middle of the night.
Trust the process.She repeated the instruction over and over in her mind like a mantra while she waited. She knew the parachute should do its job because she had experienced it before, but ice raced through her veins at the sheer terror of rocketing through enemy skies and knowing the aircraft could be shot down at any second.
Then she entered a dreamlike state as the flap swung open, and the navigator began the countdown.
‘10, 9, 8 …’
The bitter January night winds battered the plane and rushed into her face.
‘7, 6, 5 …’
It was time. He gave her the nod, and she approached the edge, her heart banging so hard she felt dizzy.
‘Jump,’ he shouted, waving his hand as he finished the countdown.
Lizzie drew on the tiny slice of courage she had left and threw herself out of the flap. There were eerie shadows in the sky cast by the light of the moon and as she plummeted through the cold air, she glimpsed light below.
There was barely time to think before her chute jerked open.
Thank God.
She struggled to take a breath and gasped as her feetcollided with the ground. The silk chute crumpled around her as the frosty grass tickled her fingers, and she rolled to one side to free herself.
Lizzie looked up into the sky and saw the Lysander disappearing on the horizon in a hasty retreat. Her connection with London was severed. There was no turning back now.
The new mission was on, and a surge of excitement overtook the sadness that had gripped her since she said goodbye to Jack.
Muffled voices and hovering lights grew closer. A hand appeared in front of her face, and she heard a familiar voice. She squinted in the torchlight and Jack’s dear old friend, Pierre, whom she had grown so fond of, leaned down, and she jumped up, holding onto his rough hand.
‘Welcome back,’ he said, a warm smile creasinghis weatherworn face under his farmer’s cap.
‘Ah, it’s so good to see you,’ Lizzie said, her voice low. She looked around and saw the rest of the small reception committee, who formed a torch-lit circle around her like a safety net.
The plane had dropped some supplies before she jumped and now, the Resistance members scattered to gather the boxes and stash them in Pierre’s old truck.
