Page 20 of Shadows In Paris
Jack tossed and turned, unable to do more than doze for a few minutes at a time. If only he could get a message from Pierre to confirm she had landed safely and was with them. That would be too risky though, and he would need to come to terms with living in the unknown until he heard from her.
Lizzie’s face lingered in his mind and in a light dream he saw her talking about the veterans in Henley and asking if someone was taking care of them. It had touched him more than he had let on. It was only a cover story, but she had taken it to heart and was ready to go to the fictional nursing home to make sure the French soldiers were well.
Finally, Jack drifted off into a deeper sleep and he dreamt of better days. He saw himself walking hand in hand with Lizzie through the streets of London, laughing and making plans for their future.
When he awoke, the sense of loss rolled through him and the pain in his gut was visceral.
CHAPTER 9
Occupied France, January 1941
Lizzie cycled to the train station in Reims. Pierre had wanted to drop her nearby in his truck, but she insisted on going alone, so she didn’t draw attention to the local network.
She saw the regret in his eyes, but there was resignation too. Pierre knew it was for the best, so she borrowed the bicycle she had used on her last visit. He strapped her case to the back of the bicycle, and after saying goodbye to Camille and Pierre, she had set off with a wave over her shoulder.
Camille had tears in her eyes when they parted and had hugged Lizzie so tight, it had made her tearful too. She told Lizzie she was welcome to stay with them any time. ‘I look forward to when we won’t need to hide you, but until that magical day comes, there will always be a bed for you in the secret room.’
Lizzie cycled along the track. Reims looked so different inwinter. There was a light frost covering the ground, and she burrowed into her coat as the morning winds chilled her face.
Gone were the plump grapes swaying on the vines, ready to be harvested and gone were the breathtaking views and flowering hedges. Everything looked shrivelled and brown rather than lush and green. Reims was in hibernation, and it was hard to equate this cold, barren land with the stunning landscape of the previous summer.
She had worn light dresses then, and now she was covered from head to foot in heavy clothing. The bicycle wheels whizzed across the country tracks until she turned onto a back road that Pierre had marked for her on a map as the safest route to the station. The beautiful Reims cathedral she had visited on her first mission was on the other side of town, and she wasn’t familiar with this area.
Her pulse raced as she saw the imposing pale stone building appear before her against the crisp blue sky. Reims was a small city, and it was easy to get around.
Camille and Pierre were such good people, and she had been sorry to say goodbye so soon, but her mission was in Paris, not Reims.
Jack and Val had discussed the possibility of dropping her on the outskirts of Paris and decided it was too dangerous. They said there would be some risk of her being stopped on the journey from Reims, but it was ultimately a safer plan.
Lizzie looked about her for the spot where Pierre had asked her to leave the bicycle. He would pick it up in his truck later, after he checked no one was monitoring the area. All these little moves were a lot of effort, but she was learning fast that it was the little moves that could mean the difference between life and death.
She shivered, partly from the cold and partly from thefear that crawled over her skin as she saw clusters of German soldiers and French police around the station.
Jack’s words rang in her head. ‘They will be alert for anything out of the ordinary. Stations are one of the key places they look for agents. Don’t give them anything strange to notice. Take careful, slow movements and breathe so you look calm. No running or rushing. That catches the eye, and they’ll stop you just for the sake of it.’
Breathe…
Her first step was complete. She’d reached the station without being stopped and had left the bicycle as instructed. She had done her best to act as if she was an ordinary young French woman leaving it for when she returned later, and so far, no one had paid any attention to her.
Lizzie took several steady breaths as she entered the station. Her heart thudded, but she breathed through it as her heels clip-clopped on the hard floor and she scanned the platform, seeking her contact.
The train was due soon, and she was losing hope of getting her ticket in time, when a young woman approached and greeted her like a close friend. She held out a cigarette to Lizzie, who smoothly extracted the ticket wedged beneath the packet and accepted a cigarette for later.
Jack had explained Pierre would arrange for a local contact to buy the ticket in advance as a precaution so she wouldn’t leave a trail. It seemed surreal that people could just buy train tickets as usual, when in every other way occupied France was like a Nazi prison. The train was due in about ten minutes, and Lizzie waited on the platform. No one had stopped her to check her papers, but she had them ready in case someone wanted to see her permission to travel.
German soldiers patrolled the station, and she did her best to blend in. No looking around, no eye contact. She was as invisible as she could make herself, and when she heardthe distant rat-a-tat-tat of the train and its wheels clattered into the station, relief flooded through her, and she had to hold herself up on her weak limbs.
There were several other women waiting, and she boarded the train in the middle of the queue to be as inconspicuous as possible. Finding a seat in a compartment with just one other woman who had her head in a book, she sat and gazed out of the window.
One step closer.
God willing, the journey would be smooth and in a couple of hours, she would be in Paris looking for Hannah.
The train was delayed for no obvious reason, and Lizzie watched as more people filed onto the train and passed their compartment. Fortunately, no one else joined them and the woman was still pre-occupied with her book.
The train chugged to life as it hissed and jerked out of the station. Lizzie sat there unmoving, barely believing she was on her way to Paris.
Only yesterday afternoon she had been holed up in Jack’s flat, and they had made passionate love. There was something almost desperate in the way they had touched each other, as if they both knew it could be the last time.
