Page 22 of Tides of Resistance
A black and white cat with patches of grey on her pretty face mewed and startled her. The cat jumped down like a skilled athlete from her vantage point on the high wall and nuzzled Lizzie’s ankles as though she’d never been away. Lizzie bent down to stroke the beloved old cat, nostalgia sweeping over her.
‘Bonjour, Minou,’Lizzie whispered, tickling the purring cat’s soft fur.
Surely, this must be a good omen.
CHAPTER 13
London
Jack let himself into the empty flat and took his bag through to the cold bedroom. It was neater than he remembered, with the bedding drawn carefully over the mattress. He took his shoes off and flung himself onto the bed in the dusk and lay there as shadows danced around him on the walls and darkness gradually enveloped the room.
Every now and then he heard a whoosh from outside as wheels sliced through puddles and the evening rain came down harder. He turned onto his side, and his face touched the pillowcase. And then a delicate scent teased his nose and filled him with a bittersweet longing. Lizzie must have slept there recently, and they had missed each other by a few days. Perhaps not even that. The smell of her, so near and yet so far, almost broke him, and he stared into space with wretched waves of anguish washing over him. His anger had fizzled out like a dying ember, and all that was left was emptiness.
Eventually, he stirred and walked through to the dark kitchen, following the faint light seeping in through the thinblackout curtains. His stomach growled. In his turmoil, he had forgotten to get supplies. The SOE provided meals at Baker Street, but they drew the line at stocking an agent’s cupboards even if they were away for months. He’d been far too upset to eat and instead fuelled himself with black coffee, and now he regretted it.
Jack flicked the lamp on in the kitchen and opened the cupboard. Much to his amazement, he saw it was partially stocked. There was a pint of milk, a couple of eggs, and a piece of hard yellow cheese wrapped in muslin cloth. He caught sight of a National Loaf nestling next to the butter dish on the counter, and his stomach growled again. He sprang into action and hastily prepared scrambled eggs and toasted slices of wholemeal bread on a fork over the gas stove, thinking all the while of how thoughtful Lizzie was. She would have been preparing for a dangerous mission, and yet somehow, she found the time to buy food for him.
He ate his meal in a daze at the table, and when he was finished, he went through the motions of getting ready for bed, his thoughts still constantly with Lizzie.
Based on the schedule Val had shared with him, Lizzie should be at her relatives’ house. How he yearned to speak to her, and memories of their last night together in the flat before he left for Scotland, entered his mind.
Lizzie tilted her head to one side, gazing at him with sparkling green eyes as she teased him about how popular he would be with the students in the Highlands. He had asked her what she would do to keep herself out of mischief when he was away, and she said she would spend time with her family, when possible, but she would miss him terribly.
Jack climbed into bed and tried to fall asleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind was too frantic. He thrust his hand under his pillow, trying to get comfortable, and his fingerstouched something. He withdrew a piece of paper and held it up to the lamplight, squinting.
My darling. Every day has been like a month, and every minute stretched out like a day since you have been gone. I have missed you so much and dream of the day when we will be together again.
Never fear. All will be well.
Until then, take care.
All my love,
Sarah xxx
The surprise love note touched Jack and brought a smile to his lips. Val was right. Lizzie was the best they had. Even when she might have got away with it, she signed off in the name of a fictitious girlfriend. The chances of the SOE or anyone else taking it upon themselves to ready the flat for Jack’s arrival were slim to none, but she knew better than to risk it. If someone read the note, they would surmise he had a long-suffering girlfriend who awaited his return.
The note stole all hope of him drifting off to sleep, so he reached over to the bedside cabinet and his fingers found the velvet pouch that rested on the surface.
Gently, he withdrew the engagement ring he had planned to slip onto Lizzie’s finger this very evening. The diamond seemed to mock him as it glittered, and his heart felt as though it had shrivelled. He’d imagined surprising Lizzie with the proposal. He knew she would be thrilled. She too longed for them to marry, even if the ring would need to be kept secret until the war was over and with it their commitment to the SOE.
But now, the surprise was ruined, and the ring only made her absence more painful. How long would she be away? Hecould barely stand to think about not hearing from her for weeks or even months if she couldn’t get access to a radio. The preparatory intelligence report confirmed St. Malo was a walled city that was heavily occupied by the Germans, and even normal radios were forbidden.
Jack slipped the shiny promise of their future back into the little pouch and popped it into a drawer beneath the clothing. He slumped into an armchair in the corner of the dark bedroom and lit a cigarette. More lonely nights lay ahead, only this time he didn’t have the consolation that Lizzie was safe in London. She was in enemy territory, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
The smoke swirled around his head, and he coughed in the smoggy air. He tried to distract himself from the ache in his chest by thinking of other things. He must visit his mother soon, and there was plenty for him to do in the office.
But his thoughts kept circling back to Lizzie. Had she made it to shore? He reminded himself she was a strong swimmer and had swum in the sea a lot in Jersey. It was no good. His whole body hurt as though he’d been kicked, and despair rolled over him. He sat there in the dark for a long time until he rose and boiled water for tea. Thoughts of Lizzie whirled around his sore head, and he tried to come up with a viable reason to follow her to St. Malo. There must be something he could do to strengthen the mission that Val would agree to.
That night when he finally fell into a restless sleep, images of Lizzie haunted him — flailing at sea, calling outRaven, and him desperately trying to swim to rescue her, but the tides were too powerful and kept them apart.
CHAPTER 14
St. Malo, Occupied France
Lizzie scanned the courtyard. Streaky first light revealed paving stones, and a washing line strung from an outbuilding to a post on the opposite side. It looked much as she remembered, except the flower borders had been transformed into vegetable patches. She thought of the pride her mother took in hers and imagined her chatting with her sister-in-law about their homegrown produce. Some things transcended wartime.
There were no visible signs of the inhabitants of the four-storey townhouse, and Lizzie hoped someone would be awake to let her in. She raised her hand and knocked on the wooden door using theFrère Jacquesrhythm of their secret childhood knock. Lizzie held her breath. She hadn’t used that knock since she ran around playing childhood games with her cousins, but a lullaby about sleeping and ringing bells seemed ominously appropriate in an age when the Nazis were confiscating bells in occupied Europe.
