Page 30 of Tides of Resistance
The Allies were depending on her.
Once Sophie had recovered her composure, they settled down to the business at hand and she brought out boxes to show Lizzie. ‘These are the books they say we must stock. I ordered them to show we are compliant, but I haven’t been able to make myself display them.’
‘Right,’ Lizzie said, picking up a copy of what Jack had told her was the most antisemitic book ever written,The Protocols of the Elders of Zion.Her voice was sad. ‘I can understand why.’
‘You’ve heard of it?’ Sophie asked.
Lizzie nodded. ‘I haven’t read it, but my boss told me about it. He said it contains vile allegations about the Jews that were exposed as lies in Britain, but propagandists posing as journalists use the text to spread and normalise antisemitic conspiracy theories. It helped the Nazis garner support from ordinary people and turn on the Jews as a scapegoat for their hardships.’
‘In Judith’s name I refuse to sell it,’ Sophie said.
CHAPTER 18
Lizzie planned to leave Sophie at the shop after they agreed which of the less hateful literature from the German approved list to display, in case the SS officer honoured his threat.
Sophie was devastated by what had happened to her friend Judith and her family. Whilst she wasn’t a member of the Resistance, the survival of the bookshop was now her personal mission, and she was fully committed. It had become a quest to do all she could for her dear friend, and by extension for the persecuted Jews of St. Malo.
Sophie would make excellent agent material, but Lizzie was reluctant to further involve her family. The stakes were too high, and she was already putting them at risk by her presence at their home. If Sophie continued on the trajectory she was on, she herself would put the family in danger. Perhaps it was just as well Lizzie had come.
Lizzie didn’t envy Sophie her terrible dilemma: speak up against the Nazi regime and put yourself and your loved ones at risk or stay silent and sacrifice your soul whilst the country you love worships the devil all around you.
‘Where are you going?’ Sophie asked when Lizzie slipped her coat on. ‘I wish you would tell me why you are really here.’
‘It’s nothing mysterious. I want to look for a bakery nearby. I have some money and wish to surprise your parents with bread and cakes.’
‘How kind you are!’ Sophie said. ‘Are you thinking of the bakery my mother always shops at?’
Lizzie didn’t remember. Intelligence reports told her there were at least three bakeries in the walled city, but all she knew was the one she needed was close by.
‘What’s the nearest one to here?’ she said, her tone casual.
‘Boulangerie Moreau,’ Sophie said. ‘My mother’s been buying there for as long as I can remember.’
It was the name of the bakery Lizzie had memorised in London. Their intelligence was accurate. ‘That sounds good. It doesn’t matter which one as long as the bread is delicious, but it makes sense to give the business to your favourite.’
A shadow fell over Sophie’s pretty features.
‘What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?’ Lizzie asked.
Sophie sighed. ‘It’s almost impossible not to say something wrong in these times, isn’t it? If it’s not a friend, it’s a neighbour, and if it’s not a neighbour it’s, God forbid, a member of the family. So many of our friends have lost someone dear to them in the past few years.’
Lizzie looked at Sophie, willing her to continue. ‘And the bakery?’
‘It’s their son, Jacques. He went missing. Madame Moreau told us she fears the Gestapo have done something terrible to him.’
Jacques was the name of her contact, and her heart lurched as Sophie confirmed what the SOE had suspected since he went dark and stopped sending transmissions.
Lizzie expressed sorrow but acted as though she’d never heard of Jacques Moreau and was just hoping to buy some baguettes to surprise her aunt and uncle.
‘You won’t find a baguette. I’ve almost forgotten what they taste like. They are long gone!’ Sophie said. ‘At this time of day, there might be nothing left, but you never know. It’s worth a try. Good luck.’
Sophie escorted her to the door, and they stood outside the shop as she gave Lizzie directions to the bakery.
Lizzie’s heart was heavy as she processed the information about the missing agent. She didn’t know anything about his background; it was safer that way, but she knew he had been a reliable source of information for the SOE.
Val had told her he wasn’t an agent involved in sabotage operations but served as a local contact relaying intelligence to them about what was happening on the ground in St. Malo. It was thanks to Jacques that they knew what information to include on her identity documents and ration coupons. He also informed them the Civil Administration was based in a mansion on the Paraméseafront, outside the city walls.
Lizzie had read a compilation of Jacques’ intelligence updates, and, in a strange way, she felt like she knew him. Now she could imagine him working at the bakery and walking around the city gathering intelligence, and then transmitting his messages to London. What a courageous soul.
