Page 26 of Tides of Resistance
Following her aunt downstairs, Lizzie ran through her cover story again and considered how much she could tell her hosts.
Over a cup of coffee, whilst Giselle warmed food on the stove, Lizzie told her aunt, her voice low, that it was too dangerous to use her real name, so they must call her Rose Rousseau. She explained Rose was unmarried and was the daughter of a fictional friend of Giselle’s in Paris.
Giselle looked startled as she turned her head from stirring the soup, but she listened carefully as Lizzie talked.
‘Rose—your mother’s name. How fitting.’
She placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of Lizzie. ‘Here you are, my love. It’s the best I can do. At least it will warm you up. Thankfully, we have vegetables from our garden, or who knows what I’d be making my soup with by now?’
Lizzie thanked her aunt for the soup that, although watery, tasted of potato and revived her.
‘I have identity papers and food coupons, so don’t worry, I won’t be a drain on you. I am sorry to have to be so secretive. All I can say is it’s critical I stay for a while, but I will leave as soon as possible.’
Giselle sat on a chair next to Lizzie and stared at her niece, studying her face, then whispered, ‘Is our sweet Lizzie a British agent?’
Lizzie replied, ‘Nothing as glamorous as that, I’m afraid, but you must keep my real identity to yourself, Aunt. It’s the only way for me not to endanger you all.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s been years since you were here, and you were a child back then. I must say, your black hair suits you and makes you look different.’
Lizzie said, ‘I am counting on it. The last time we were all together before the war, we met in Mont Saint-Michel, remember? So, it’s been a long time since I was here in St. Malo. If I had thought people would recognise me, I wouldn’t have come.’
Giselle nodded and continued searching Lizzie’s face whilst she ate as if she had indeed fallen out of the sky. ‘I still can’t believe you’re here. Now, I can’t wait any longer! You must tell me all the news about your parents and siblings, or I will burst.’
Lizzie laughed, overjoyed to be in her dear aunt’s company again, and she regaled her with tales of her parents, sisters and brother and what they had been doing since the war began. She glossed over her own story, saying she was a French translator in London.
After hearing about Evie training to be a nurse and walking out with an American soldier, a heavy silence fell between them. Neither of them wanted to speak the unspoken, but Lizzie knew her aunt was thinking about Nan and Pops in Jersey.
Lizzie pushed her untidy black hair that had escaped its clips off her forehead and met her aunt’s sad eyes. ‘We got a note from them a while back saying they were well. Have you had any word?’
Giselle said they had received some news ages ago, but nothing more recently. ‘And radio sets are banned, so we hear nothing. Jersey is also occupied, as you know, so I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. I pray they are managing and soon the allies will come, and we will all be reunited.’
Lizzie saw her aunt was fighting her emotions. ‘It’s only a question of time.’
Giselle’s eyes filled with tears. ‘When did you become an adult? It seems only minutes since you were a little girl playing with your bucket and spade in the rock pools with Sophie.’
‘Events have made us all grow up fast,’ she said. ‘Besides, I’m twenty-three this year.’
Giselle raised an eyebrow, and a smile played on her lips. ‘A mature woman, indeed. You and Sophie are the same age, and you’re right; she too has had to grow up fast under the occupation.’
They chatted for a while longer and then Giselle brought her one of Sophie’s dresses and Lizzie washed and changed.
‘I was hoping I could borrow some clothes as I only have what I arrived in.’
‘Give me your dress and I’ll wash it,’ Giselle said. ‘Sophie won’t mind your borrowing her stuff, and you can certainly help yourself to anything in my wardrobe, although it’s not very impressive. I don’t remember the last time we bought clothes.’
‘New clothes are the least of our concerns,’ Lizzie said, after thanking her aunt for her generosity.
Giselle said she had promised to help Sophie at the bookshop that afternoon and that she must leave soon. When Lizzie looked surprised, her aunt said, ‘Of course, this is all new to you. We took over a bookshop to help a Jewish family—it was owned by the parents of Sophie’s best friend. I suppose you know Jews are now forbidden from running their own businesses. All commerce has been Aryanised, as the Germans call it.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘How good of you to step in. So Sophie works at the bookshop?’
‘Yes, she manages it. She’s been amazing and offered right from the start to take charge. You know how she loves books, and she wanted to help her dear friend, Judith.’
‘Where is the family who owned it?’ Lizzie asked.
Giselle sighed. ‘I wish I knew. They left as soon as we took over the shop. We outfoxed the Nazis by completing the transaction before it was forcibly sold. Hopefully, the Cohens made it to America by now, but we’ve not heard from them yet.’
‘May I come with you to see Sophie?’ Lizzie asked.
