The Best of Our Spies

by Alex Gerlis

  ‘Did they recruit you or did you approach them?’

  ‘Does it matter? I wanted to help.’

  ‘You are a Nazi then?’

  ‘I don’t know what I was then. I was a young fool. The organisation that helped my mother, it was more political than anything else. Many of those people were involved with the Nazis, so I went to the meetings and began to feel part of something.’

  Silence again in the room. She threw back her long hair in the way that Owen remembered it, but now she harshly brushed it away from her face with shaking hands.

  ‘Owen, please...’

  ‘My friend out there,’ said Owen, ‘was taken to a camp in Poland with his wife and child and tens of thousands of other French Jews. His wife and son were killed. Millions of people were murdered, they’re saying. From all over Europe. When people find out what...’

  Ginette hugged her arms tight across her chest. ‘Owen, you don’t need to tell me. What I have seen since I came back to France...’ There was a long pause. ‘It’s terrible. I felt guilty. I have seen such suffering. I had to escape from Lille after an SS officer tried to rape me. I stabbed him. I became a refugee. In Lorraine I was looked after by Jews and Gypsies who had been in one of these camps that you are talking about. A Jewish doctor from Poland, he looked after me, he told me about the terrible things that had happened.’

  Until now, she had avoided eye contact with Owen. She would look at the table, at the floor, at the wall around her or at her hands as she buried her face in them. But now she stared at him, her eyes pleading with him to believe her.

  ‘You have to believe me, Owen!’

  ‘Do I!’ With that, he stood up and lashed out. The back of his right hand caught her on the cheekbone, just by the side of her right eye. She did not even flinch. A trickle of blood darted in a surprisingly straight line down her face. She nodded once at Owen, as if to acknowledge what he had done. He had staggered back as if he himself had been hit.

  ‘Ginette. Is everything all right?’ It was her mother’s voice from the other room.

  ‘It is fine, mother. Please leave me alone for a while.’

  He stood up, his knuckles resting down on the table, leaning right over her. His voice was trembling. She was now the more composed of the two of them.

  ‘Why should I believe a word you say? Tell me that! What do I know about you? I know that you are a Nazi spy, that you deceived me, that you married me and became pregnant without telling me and then disappeared. And now I have tracked you down, you are trying to talk your way out of it. Look at me – I don’t even know what I should call you – Nathalie, Ginette? Are there any other names I should be aware of?’

  Silence. She sat still, saying nothing.

  ‘Go on, I want to know.’

  ‘When I was in the Pas de Calais I was known as Geraldine. Why do you want to know all this, Owen?’

  ‘And any other names?’

  ‘I also used the name Hélène Blanc for a while, after I left the Pas de Calais.’

  ‘And what should I call you, tell me?’

  He was leaning right over her now, his face just inches from hers.

  ‘My real name is Ginette. Ginette Troppe.’

  ‘And so, Ginette Troppe. Give me one very good reason why I don’t drag you now to the authorities. You’re a Nazi spy. You’re on the run and I’ve caught you.’

  ‘You’ll do what you want to do, Owen. I can’t stop you. But let me say something. You say I ran away, but that is not true. I came back here, to my home town, to my true identity. I could so easily have disappeared after I left the Pas de Calais. There are so many refugees moving around the country, so much chaos – it would have been easy for me to find another identity and then another one. I could have changed my identity very easily. I could have gone to anywhere in France. This country is twice the size of yours. It would have been very easy for me to make it impossible for you to trace me. Think about that, Owen.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘That I wanted to be found by you, Owen. That is why I came back here and that is why I used my original name. Look, I even went back to the hospital that I worked in before the war. I was not hiding from you, Owen, quite the opposite. I was making it possible for you to find me.’

  She was staring directly at her husband, her eyes beseeching him to believe her.

  ‘But why... why did you want me to find you?’

  ‘It was not just because of the baby. It was because of you. I don’t expect you to believe this, but once I was away from you, when I arrived back in France, I realised that I cared about you. I even started to have those feelings when the British sent me away for training in Lincolnshire, or wherever it was that they sent me. And since then, I have cared about you more and more. I realised that I love you, Owen.’

  ‘That’s a convenient turn of events, isn’t it?’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘It’s the truth, Owen. I was surprised myself at my feelings.’

  Owen looked shocked. He started pacing around the small kitchen. As he came close to her he realised that it was not just the sight of her and the sound of her voice that had so unsettled him. It was the smell of her too. He would never be able to describe it and he never even realised that she had her own distinctive scent that he had become so familiar with.

  ‘But hang on. You didn’t leave a forwarding address, did you? British Intelligence had no idea who you really were. I accept that you may have reverted to your proper name and come back to your home town, but how on earth was I expected to know all that? It was only because a lot of hard work and even more luck that I was able to find you.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Exactly what?’

  ‘That I thought you would find me. I knew that if you really wanted to find me, you would. There’s one other thing, Owen. I left a clue, didn’t I?’

  He leaned back against the worktop and frowned.

  ‘If you did, it must have been a very well hidden one because I missed it.’

  ‘The brooch, Owen, the cameo brooch. Did you find that?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I knew that I had to leave some message for you. I wanted to leave you something of mine. Did you spot the initials on the back of the brooch?’

  ‘Yes, just. But how would that help me find you? The reason I found you was because I persisted and because some very decent people stuck their necks out to help me. The brooch didn’t help.’

  ‘But it helped you realise that I might have left a message for you? That maybe it was a sign of some affection?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  She smiled. It was a smile that he could not recall ever having seen before and considering that he had committed every smile, every gesture of hers to his memory and then replayed them over and over again – he knew he would have remembered a smile like that.

  ‘But that is the point, Owen! By leaving the brooch for you like that I was sending you a message. You were to understand that it would be worth searching for me. When I left that for you, I wasn’t even sure why I was doing it. Deep down, I must have thought it was a way of giving myself an option – that it might help you find me. I’m not sure.’

  She spread her arms open, as if to say ‘and here I am’. Voilà.

  ‘Well, I suppose it worked.’ Owen paused. ‘Did you ever care for me, when we were together, that is...’ He was sounding hesitant now. ‘Or was I only a way of getting information?’

  She had composed herself. ‘Let me tell you this first, Owen. You asked me whether I approached the Germans, or whether they approached me. I will tell you the truth. I approached them. One of the men I knew in the organisation, he said that because I spoke German and English I could be of use to the Germans. He made it sound exciting. So I went to Paris to meet a man he knew at the German Embassy…’

  ‘Georg Lange?’

  ‘That’s right!’ She sounded shocked. ‘How did you find him? Did he tell you where I was?’

  ‘Carr
y on.’

  She had gone quiet. Her long fingernails were tracing a haphazard shape on the table. For a moment, their fingertips touched on the shiny surface of it, before they both pulled their hands away in shock.

  ‘So I met Lange. In 1938. I thought I was going to be something like... I don’t know... a messenger, nothing much more than that. But it was like when I was a child and I used to go on the slide at the playground. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. It was impossible. I was sent to Germany for training and before I realised it properly, I was becoming an agent. I was too involved to do anything about it. I felt like telling them that this was all a mistake; that I was just a nurse. I was even thinking of leaving, but then it became too late. One of the other people being trained with me, a very intelligent lawyer from Poitiers, he announced one evening that he had changed his mind and was leaving. They seemed to let him go, but the next morning they took us to a forest for training and we discovered his body hanging from a tree. They arranged for us to discover his body, of course. To send us a very clear message. It reminded me of my father, the way that the body was perfectly straight, apart from the neck which looked as if it had been rearranged at an unusual angle.’

  With the back of her wrist she dabbed at the cut next to her eye. The bleeding had stopped, but a bruise was beginning to appear.

  ‘So, I was caught in a nightmare, but at the same time, I must have been influenced by everything they were telling me. I suppose I could have run away or something, or just disappeared. But at the time, nothing seemed real. I didn’t believe that there would be a war and I thought that if there was one, then they would have more important things to remember than me and that could be my opportunity to disappear.

  ‘When Germany invaded France, it was a terrible shock. Deep down, I must have thought that would never really happen. I knew that I would now have to become involved. So I escaped, Owen, I promise you I did. Ask my mother, she had no idea what had happened to me. Ask Georg Lange. I left Strasbourg and headed west. The French authorities had evacuated much of the civilian population from the city once the war started. I was only allowed to remain because the hospital where I worked remained open. It was the only one that was. I was not sure where to go, so many people were on the roads, sometimes it was hard to move. I made two mistakes. The first was that I headed north and walked straight into the German invasion. They found me in a town called Abbeville. It’s in Picardy. The second mistake was that I used my own identity. That’s how the Germans found me. You ask Lange if you don’t believe me.’

  She was beginning to lose her composure again and started to weep. Owen handed her a handkerchief from his top pocket. Their fingers brushed very slightly again as he handed it over.

  ‘I was trapped, Owen. And I was a coward. When the Germans caught me I told them a story about how I had to flee Strasbourg because I thought the French police were after me. They must have believed me. It worked out well for them because people were being evacuated from Dunkirk to England at the time and thousands of French civilians were escaping too. It was not difficult for me to join them. The Abwehr spent a day or two briefing me on my new identity and then I was taken near to Dunkirk. It was not difficult to join the people escaping.’

  ‘What did the Germans ask you to do?’

  ‘My mission was to get to London and do nothing other than establish myself as a nurse. I had nothing incriminating on me. In time, I was to find a job in a military hospital. Then I was to make contact with my radio man. Once I had been cleared in London after my arrival, I thought it was too late. I was a German spy by then. So I just did as I had been instructed. It was purely by chance that I met you, Owen, but when I did... there was nothing I could do. I had my instructions. Please understand, Owen.’

  He snorted. ‘Do you know that you were used? And so was I, as it happens. British Intelligence knew all about you, long before you came to Calcotte Grange. They found out about you, they discovered that you had requested a transfer to a military hospital and then set the whole thing up. They even arranged for you to meet me. They even guessed I would fall for you. Of course, I never realised what was going on, so you can imagine how I feel. And all the information that you got through me was deliberately false, although I never realised that. It was intended to mislead the Germans into thinking that the Pas de Calais would be where the main invasion was. That is why you were sent there. You were used.’

  ‘I didn’t realise all that. Of course, once the Allies landed in Normandy, I wondered about the information, but...’

  ‘Ask yourself this. Was there an invasion in the Pas de Calais? No. It was only ever going to be Normandy. So, you played your part. You helped the Allies.’

  ‘Owen, if that is true, maybe it is not a bad thing. By the time I left London, I did not want to be a German spy. I was having your baby. I liked people in England. I had developed feelings for you, Owen!’

  ‘Do you know what happened to your group in Boulogne.’

  She shook her head vigorously. She held up her hand as if she didn’t want to know.

  ‘Françoise escaped. Lucien was tortured but is still alive, although he is crippled. Their children were burned to death along with her mother by your Nazi friends. Pierre killed himself before they could arrest him and Jean was tortured to death. Lucien was in the cell next to his. He took a whole night to die. Lucien said he even heard him calling out your name that night.’

  She was frightened now. Owen noticed that she was trembling.

  ‘You said you had feelings for me,’ he said. ‘What are those feelings?’

  Owen was trembling now. ‘I don’t know what to say any more, I don’t know what to think. I want to see my son now.’

  ‘Of course, I want you to see him. Tell me something. You must have had feelings for me. What has happened to them?’

  ‘You know that I loved you more than anything else in the world. And I will tell you something else that I did not realise until a few minutes ago. I continued to love you. I loved you when I found out that you were a German spy, even though I tried very hard not to. I still loved you when I found out what had happened in the Pas de Calais. I loved you when I saw you walking into the hospital this morning and I still loved you when I walked into this apartment a few minutes ago. All along, I hoped to reach a point where I could finally stop loving you, but...’

  She handed his handkerchief back to him. This time, their brushing of fingers was accidental.

  ‘I’ll ask my mother to go for a walk. Then we can be alone when you meet Philippe. What about your friend?’

  ‘He could do with a walk too.’

  ‘Does your mother know the truth?’

  ‘Of course not. She thinks I was in Paris during the war. She learned from my father that it is best not to ask too many questions.’

  Ginette moved into the hall and addressed her mother through the closed door of the back room. ‘Please could she leave her in the apartment for a while? Everything is fine, no really. Please, mother. I’ll explain later.’ Her voice was shaking and she was gripping the side of her nurse’s uniform.

  Owen spoke quietly to André. He would wait in the car.

  When they had both left, she took Owen to his son.

  He was a tiny little thing, with his own fair hair but his mother’s jet black eyes, which brightened up when they entered the room. Owen sank to his knees and picked him up, holding him close to him. He could feel the baby’s warmth against his chest and his own tears rolling down his face. Gently, he pressed the little boy’s head under his chin. Nothing had prepared him for this moment. His son’s hair felt like silk brushing against his face.

  Ginette was sobbing behind him, pacing up and down the room.

  ‘What are you going to do with him, Owen? He is the most precious thing to me. Please, Owen, I will do anything. Don’t take him, Owen. Don’t take him. I am sorry, I was wrong, I…’

  Owen sat down in an armchair, holding the baby in an unsure manner.
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  ‘I don’t know. I have really no idea. I need to think. What can we do? The British authorities are after you. Don’t forget, you’re a German spy. We can’t pretend that nothing has happened. ‘

  ‘Maybe they would understand, Owen.’

  His son was studying his face, wriggling his tiny fingers as he did so.

  He laughed. ‘I very much doubt that. Do you know what they do to German spies? They hang them. Even repentant ones. We can’t go back to England and think that everything will be sorted out. I can hardly live here, as if nothing happened. We will have to work something out. I’m still not sure what I want to do, to be honest. I don’t know what I want to happen to us.’

  She came over and knelt by the armchair. The baby was staring into the face of his father, his jet black eyes darting around to take in every feature. Her arm stroked his and for a while all was silent and serene. Owen was totally captivated by the baby.

  The tranquillity was shaken by knocking at the door.

  She hauled herself up. ‘It will be my mother. I will ask her to go to her sister’s for a while so we can be alone for longer.’

  He was more at ease cradling his son now. To his amazement, it felt natural. The baby was continuing to gaze into his eyes and Owen was certain that he was smiling at him. He grinned back.

  He could hear her unlocking the door and then the sound of a hoarse male voice saying, ‘Ginette Troppe?’

  After that, his recollection was blurred beyond repair.

  There was a noise, certainly. Not too loud because he realised later that the gun must have been held straight against her body, but it was a sharp noise that echoed around the little flat. That was followed almost immediately by the sound of something falling heavily and then a much louder and far clearer gunshot.

  There was a commotion on the stairs and he heard André shouting something. From the hall he heard a long groan, that didn’t stop. He was frozen in the armchair, the baby’s smile now wide and accompanied by a friendly gurgle. His little arms were reaching out.