Page 36 of Tides of Resistance
Only when she was about to turn the corner did she dare glance back. All her senses raged, and her skin was hot and clammy beneath her clothes.
Apart from a French couple walking down the road, who stopped to gaze in a shop window with their young children, the street was deserted.
The man was nowhere to be seen, and she released her pent-up breath and rebuked herself for being out of practice and imagining danger where there was none.
CHAPTER 22
That afternoon, Lizzie suggested she and Sophie cycle to visit Fabian in St. Lunaire. ‘The fresh air will do you good after being in the shop all week.’
Sophie agreed and said it was a lovely ride along the coastal path in fine weather. ‘Let me see if the other bicycle is fit for the journey,’ she said, and headed out to the shed with Lizzie on her heels.
Lizzie was excited to see her cousin Fabian, but it was also a fortuitous opportunity to appraise the coastline for signs of impending fortification. To poke about at the St. Malo port, which was a densely guarded area, she’d need to come up with a viable plan and it hadn’t come to her yet. Lizzie hoped that the fresh air and exercise would give her the space she needed to formulate her next move.
At home with the family, it was fun but intense, with barely a solitary moment. She shared a bedroom with Sophie, and they talked a lot about the old days and what they would like to do after the war. Lizzie didn’t mention Jack and their plans to marry, because as usual her private life had to remain top secret. Lizzie felt the weight of not being able to share what she wasreally doing, with Sophie, but Jack’s voice was never far from her thoughts, reminding her, ‘Loose tongues, cost lives.’
It was bad enough she was endangering them by staying at their home, but by maintaining her cover as Rose Rousseau from Paris, and not telling them more than they needed to know, she was at least doing her best to keep them safe.
Aunt Giselle gave them a jar of her homemade strawberry jam for Fabian and looked tearful as they prepared to leave.
‘Give my boy a big hug from me. If we had another bicycle I would be tempted to come with you.’
Sophie propped her bicycle against the stone wall and kissed her mother. ‘Don’t fret, Maman. Fabian knows you would come if you could, and he will be happy to see us.’
Giselle sniffed and straightened her shoulders. ‘It’s not easy being a mother, especially in these times.’
Lizzie saw the same sentiments in her mother when she worried about her grown children, and she squeezed her aunt’s hand and kissed her goodbye.
‘We shall be back before you know it, with all the latest news from Fabian,’ she said, smiling.
‘You are a sweet girl, ma chérie,’ Aunt Giselle replied. ‘We are so happy to have you with us.’
Her aunt’s eyes were bright as she waved them off and Lizzie’s chest tightened. This was no time for letting her emotions take over, so she jumped onto the rusty black bike and pedalled to catch up with Sophie. They cycled north towards the ramparts in the direction of Porte St. Vincent, and it wasn’t long until the stone archway loomed up ahead. She called out to Sophie to wait for her and as she drew level, she asked whether there would be a checkpoint at the gate.
Sophie said, ‘It’s hit and miss. Sometimes there’s a sentry who checks identity papers but on others I just sail through. Have yours ready, in any case.’
Lizzie had not been asked for her papers once yet since her arrival which had surprised her, but the less she was checked, the more likely she was to make it out alive. It was a sobering thought but one she could ignore only at her peril, so she prepared herself for a possible checkpoint.Parisian French.And her adapted cover story in one line about how she was visiting friends of the family for the sea air after being unwell.
St. Malo security wasn’t as tight as Val had predicted. Lizzie guessed they didn’t have the manpower to guard every gate continuously and from what she had seen so far, the patrols appeared random.
They approached the gate as locals milled about in front of them, blocking the view. Lizzie’s heart thumped as she silently recited her story, then she followed Sophie’s lead and dismounted as they neared the thick medieval arch which was the gate to freedom from the city walls.
To Lizzie’s immense relief the gate was unmanned, and they wheeled their bicycles through and jumped back on at the other side. Some soldiers loitered nearby and gave them a cursory glance but let them pass without any questions.
The beat of Lizzie’s heart gradually normalised as they rode away from the city and onto the coastal path.
Sophie slowed and waited for Lizzie to catch up. ‘You see, no checks. It’s not actually as terrible as people might imagine.’
Lizzie didn’t reply, but Sophie’s casual comment confirmed the Nazi occupation was a pernicious erosion of democratic values, where the subjugated were so fearful of their oppressors, that the most basic right was applauded as if it were a benefit.
They were completely alone now, and the wind blew in their faces, turning their cheeks pink, as they cycled abreast on the coastal path pedalling as fast as they could. The fresh air was exhilarating, and the gentle sunshine glinted on the emeraldsea below. Lizzie marvelled at the stunning coastline with its turquoise waters and rugged cliffs like a scene from a painting.
No wonder they called it the Emerald Coast. A strong sense of wellbeing and renewed purpose crept over her as she cycled.All will be well.The city wasn’t as densely guarded as she had feared, which meant her plan to carry out reconnaissance of the port and take photos with her mini camera was difficult but not impossible.
She had to come up with a feasible excuse to get near the port. And to take photos, she must be able to observe it from a hidden spot.
The tide gained momentum—flowing back and forth in a mesmerising dance as their wheels bounced along the track. The water foamed on the rocks below and collected in the hollows and crevices forming the rock pools Lizzie knew so well from her youth.
‘What a perfect day for us to do this,’ she called to Sophie. Her words were swept away on the wind, and they laughed, their eyes shining.
