Page 17 of Shadows In Paris
Lizzie cast her eyes around to get her bearings in the dim light. This looked like the same pasture she had been picked up from before, but she couldn’t be sure. The trees and foliage were sparse and coated in snow and France was frozen in the depths of winter.
Pierre returned to her side after organising his truck. ‘Are you alright? A smooth landing and no injuries?’
She noticed he didn’t use her real name or even the cover name she had used on the previous mission. It was wise. Names led to people being killed, and besides, she had a new cover name now that she would share with him and his wife,Camille, if appropriate, when they were safely in the farmhouse. Lizzie was only here for one night, so there was no reason to share her name with other members of the Resistance. All it took for a name to be on the lips of the Gestapo was for one of them to break under torture, and search parties would hunt for them all over Reims.
Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Shall I bury my gear here?’
Pierre beckoned for her to follow him, and soon they were in the dark corner of a woodland copse. In the soft light of the torch, she watched him brush some thick branches aside to reveal a hatch, which he opened.
‘Let’s hide them in here. The parachutes and suits are too incriminating to keep burying in the fields. It’s safer to store them here, and we may even be able to use them again or repurpose the material. Who knows what supplies we’ll need in the future if this war drags on?’
Lizzie stripped her canvas suit off to reveal the French custom-tailored dress she had been measured for at Baker Street. The SOE took no chances. Everything she wore or had on her person was made in France or looked as though it had been.
‘Did you find my stuff?’ Lizzie asked, hoping she could get her coat as the blasts of cold air made her miss the warm suit.
‘Yes, I believe so. We’ve gathered everything from the drop and it’s in the truck. Let us make haste and get back to the farm whilst we’re still covered by the curfew.’
Lizzie thought it ironic that the Germans enforced the curfew to keep the locals off the streets after nightfall, but the Resistance used it as a protective cloak to carry out their clandestine operations.
‘How have you been keeping?’ Pierre asked as the truckrumbled along the track toward the farmhouse, where Lizzie would stay for the rest of her first night back on French soil.
‘I’ve been fine, thank you. We’ve thought about you so much. Jack said to tell you that you are doing an incredible job.’
‘You have both been in our thoughts, too. How is Raven doing?’ asked Pierre.
‘He is well. We’re still diving in and out of the shelters with the daily bombs on London, but somehow or other Londoners keep going with their lives. It’s amazing, really. No one would have believed this kind of continuous barrage was possible, but there it is.’
‘Those damned Boche,’ Pierre hissed. ‘I’ve heard they are still pounding London. We’re fortunate in that respect here, I suppose. It’s too packed with Germans and collaborators to target. It’s just a shame we have to stomach the bastards swanning around like they own France.’
The reminder that she was now surrounded by Nazis spiked Lizzie’s fears, and adrenaline rushed through her. The outline of the farmhouse in the moonlight rose in front of them like a mirage as the truck bounced along.
‘I wish these were better times, but your home is such a comforting sight. I’ve missed you and Camille.’
‘We’ve missed you, too. Camille was thrilled when we got the message you were coming to stay with us.’
‘At least we can communicate now,’ Lizzie said. ‘Remember we couldn’t message at all when we were here last?’
‘Yes, thanks to you and Jack for getting the Reims Resistance back into action. We’re fully operational and at a much higher level than before.’
‘And, thanks to you for taking over the running of the network. We couldn’t do any of this without you. Jack said Ishould tell you that and make sure you understand just how grateful we all are.’
‘You’re very kind. The truth is, we don’t have any choice. We won’t just lie down and die while these devils destroy our country—and the world if they have their way.’
‘Thank God for the Resistance,’ Lizzie said.
‘I’m not sure what role God plays in this madness,’ Pierre said wryly, shaking his head. ‘It makes you wonder.’
‘It does,’ Lizzie said, who had wondered the same.
The truck came to a wheezing stop and Lizzie saw Camille in the faint light of the farmhouse doorway. She leapt out of the truck and rushed into the older woman’s outstretched arms.
Camille enveloped Lizzie’s slight frame, and they hugged tightly. ‘Welcome back, beautiful girl. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. But come in out of this freezing cold. You’re shivering. We’ve kept the kitchen warm for your arrival.’
Lizzie beamed at Camille as she ushered her inside, and Pierre followed with her case.
‘Is this one yours?’ he asked when she was seated at the kitchen table.
‘Yes, it’s just my personal items. I wanted to bring a new wireless for the Paris network, but it would be too conspicuous on the train.’
