by Lily Baxter
‘Have you any idea what they plan for us?’ Elsie tried again.
‘You’ll be met at the station. The agent will give you your papers and your instructions. I don’t know where they’re sending you, but I don’t think you’re going home.’
They travelled in silence through the quiet streets, stopping eventually outside the Gare du Nord. ‘Jump down, ladies,’ Raoul said gruffly. ‘This is where we say goodbye.’
Elsie seized his hand and shook it. ‘Thank you for being our friend, Raoul.’
‘Go into the station,’ he said gruffly. ‘You should hurry.’ He climbed down and retrieved their cases from the back of the cart. ‘Goodbye and good luck.’
They stood for a moment, staring after him as he drove off. ‘I suppose we’d better go into the station and see what happens,’ Marianne said, glancing round nervously. ‘Do you get the feeling we’re being watched?’
‘I do.’ Elsie picked up her case. ‘Let’s go and find out what they’re going to do with us.’
Marianne retrieved her bag, wrinkling her nose. ‘This smells disgusting, and I’ve got a funny feeling that whatever they have planned for us isn’t going to be good.’
Arm in arm, they walked into the station.
Chapter Eleven
‘WHAT NOW?’ ELSIE murmured as they came to a halt in the main concourse.
‘We just loiter and hope that our contact will find us.’
Elsie glanced at the station clock. ‘It’s half past ten. Let’s hope they come soon, because I don’t fancy sleeping in the waiting room.’
‘I don’t think there’s going to be any need for that.’ Marianne nudged her, nodding in the direction of a young woman who was walking purposefully towards them. ‘I think I know that person. I’ve seen her in the rue Saint-Roch.’
Their contact smiled at them as if greeting old friends. ‘I am Chantal,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Your train leaves in ten minutes so we haven’t much time.’
‘Where are we going?’ Marianne demanded. ‘We haven’t been told anything.’
‘Your papers and tickets are in this bag,’ Chantal said, slipping it off her shoulder. ‘You will take the train to Calais and you will be met on the station. You will receive further instructions there. Good luck.’ She handed the bag to Marianne and walked off without giving them a chance to question her.
‘I wonder if we’re really going home.’ Elsie stared after her with a puzzled frown. ‘Why couldn’t she tell us?’
Marianne opened the bag and pulled out a couple of passports, two rail tickets and two permits to travel. ‘We’re going to Calais, so maybe they are sending us home.’
‘I hope so,’ Elsie said with a sigh. ‘Being a secret agent isn’t as exciting as I thought it would be.’
Marianne grabbed her by the hand. ‘According to the notice board our train is due to leave in a few minutes. We’d better get a move on.’ She began to run in the direction of the platform, where the engine was already building up a head of steam.
They raced along the platform looking for an empty compartment, but all the carriages were packed with troops, and they had to leap on board as the train started to pull out of the station. Elsie tumbled headlong onto the lap of a sleeping soldier who awakened with a start. She apologised profusely and moved away quickly as he slid his arm around her waist with a sleepy grin. ‘I thought I was dreaming,’ he murmured. ‘You can sit on my lap if you want.’
‘Get up and make room for the lady.’ A soldier sitting opposite had roused himself and staggered to his feet. ‘Take my seat. We aren’t all animals.’
‘You need your rest, soldier,’ Marianne said, smiling. ‘Perhaps we could squeeze in the corner. We don’t take up much room.’
‘It’s all right.’ He tossed their cases onto the luggage rack. ‘I’ll sit on the floor, and so will my friend over there.’ He tapped a sleeping soldier with the toe of his boot. ‘Be a gentleman and let the ladies have your seat.’
The young soldier awakened with a start and slid to the floor with a vague attempt at a salute. ‘Yes, sergeant.’
‘Thank you.’ Elsie sank down in the corner of the carriage. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Marianne took the seat vacated by the sergeant. ‘We’re very grateful,’ she added, settling herself in between two other soldiers who had slept through it all.
The men made themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor, curling themselves around the feet of those lucky enough to be seated. Marianne flashed them a grateful smile and closed her eyes, but Elsie was wide awake. She gazed out of the window, straining her eyes in order to see, but it was dark now and there were very few lights to show that they were still within the city boundaries. The steady breathing of the others in the compartment was punctuated by snores, and the rhythmic clickety-clack of the iron wheels going over the points drummed in her ears, but gradually the gentle swaying motion of the carriage made her feel drowsy and she closed her eyes. Her last waking thought was of home. Would they be in England by morning? She drifted off into the comforting arms of oblivion.
She was awakened by someone shaking her vigorously and she opened her eyes. At first she thought she was back in her bed at Madame Chausse’s lodging house, but she realised dimly that there was movement all around her. It was still dark but a glimmer of light filtered in from the platform and she could hear someone shouting. ‘Calais.’
‘We get off here,’ Marianne said impatiently. ‘Wake up, Elsie.’
‘I fell asleep.’
‘Of course you did.’ Marianne stood aside as the last soldier left the compartment. ‘Thanks again,’ she called after him.
‘I wanted to thank them too,’ Elsie said, yawning.
‘I thanked them for you.’ Marianne pulled her to her feet. ‘We’ve got to find our next contact.’
Elsie’s limbs were cramped and she had slept at an awkward angle, resulting in a stiff neck. She pulled her case down from the rack, but as she stepped out onto the platform to join Marianne they were caught up in a great wave of soldiers who were heading for the ticket barrier. Swept along on a mixed tide of British khaki uniforms and the blue-grey recently adopted by the French army, they reached the main concourse, where they looked for a quiet spot where they could wait unnoticed.
This time it was a much older woman who approached them. She embraced each of them in turn. ‘Try not to look so surprised,’ she whispered. ‘Act as if you are pleased to see me. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.’
‘It’s all very well but we want to know where we’re going,’ Marianne said with a fixed smile.
‘You will be given information as and when you need it.’
‘So what are we going to do now?’ Elsie demanded. ‘We need to know.’
‘Follow me,’ the woman said calmly. ‘Look casual and just walk out of the station. I have a fiacre waiting.’ She quickened her pace, heading towards the exit. The horse-drawn vehicle was waiting for them as she had promised and she climbed inside.
‘This is a step up from Raoul’s cart,’ Elsie whispered as she followed Marianne into the carriage. ‘At least it doesn’t smell of dung and rotting straw.’
Marianne threw herself down on the seat. ‘We’re in private now, madame. What are our instructions?’
‘Yes, please tell us what you know.’ Elsie closed the door and took a seat beside Marianne.
The woman tapped the roof of the fiacre with the ferule of her umbrella and the vehicle lurched into motion. ‘There is a vessel waiting for you at the docks. You must do exactly as the captain tells you.’
‘Are we going home?’ Elsie could not keep a tremor of excitement from creeping into her voice.
‘You will be taken to Antwerp.’
‘Antwerp?’ Marianne sighed. ‘And I suppose we will get further information there. Is there no one who can tell us what will be expected of us?’
‘That would be unsafe.’
‘But we are being se
nt to Belgium. We’re British citizens and we have a right to know.’
‘La Dame Blanche. That’s all I can safely tell you. The rest will become clear when you receive your orders in Antwerp.’ The woman settled back against the squabs. ‘We will be at the docks shortly. Be prepared to alight quickly and …’
‘Someone will be waiting for us,’ Marianne said, finishing the sentence for her. ‘We’re getting used to that, madame.’
The vessel that was waiting for them at the docks proved to be a rusting motor boat that even in a poor light looked as though it should have been sent to the scrap yard. They had been met by a crewman who introduced himself as Adams, and he took them to meet the captain. Elsie was accustomed to speaking French but it was wonderful to hear her native tongue again. She could have hugged each one of the crew in turn as she boarded the vessel, but she managed to restrain herself.
The master welcomed them brusquely. ‘This isn’t a luxury yacht, ladies. But every seaworthy vessel has been commandeered for some sort of duty and my orders are to transport you safely to Antwerp.’
‘How long will it take?’ Marianne asked anxiously.
‘We go as close to the coast as we dare, and it depends on the wind and weather but I’d say ten or twelve hours, maybe less. We have to be particularly careful outside Zeebrugge and Ostend where the Germans have laid minefields.’
‘Minefields?’ Marianne said faintly.
He grinned. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve done it before and we can do it again. You’re in good hands.’
‘I’m sure we are,’ Elsie said stoutly. ‘But I don’t suppose you know anything about our mission, do you, captain?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m just here to do my part, miss.’ He beckoned to Adams, who was busy stowing the mooring rope. ‘Take the young ladies to the cabin and make them comfortable.’
‘Aye, aye, sir. Come with me, ladies.’
He led the way to the cabin, which was surprisingly neat and tidy, but the accommodation was spartan to say the least. He glanced at them with a worried frown. ‘We don’t normally carry passengers but you might be able to stretch out on the benches and get some shut-eye. We should have a reasonable trip.’
‘I’m sure we’ll be fine,’ Elsie said hastily.
‘Yes, absolutely.’ Marianne put her case under the table and sat down.
‘I could make you some cocoa,’ he said, moving to the back of the cabin which seemed to serve as a small galley.
‘That would be lovely.’ Elsie stowed her case and sat down opposite Marianne. Outside it was still dark and the cramped confines of the cabin seemed like another world. The smell of salt water and engine oil mixed oddly with the comforting aroma of hot chocolate as Adams made the cocoa. He placed a mug in front of each of them.
‘Thank you,’ Elsie said, sipping the hot drink, which was thick and sweet with the addition of condensed milk.
‘It’s most welcome,’ Marianne added. ‘Thank you, Adams.’
‘If there’s anything you want just give me a shout,’ he said, backing out of the doorway. ‘You might just get forty winks if you’re lucky.’ He closed the door and they were left alone in the cabin, which had started to rock gently as the boat glided out of the harbour. The motion changed as they emerged into the Channel. ‘I can’t imagine sleeping on this,’ Elsie said, patting the hard leather upholstery.
‘I think I’d nod off on a bed of nails.’ Marianne stirred her drink, frowning thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what’s going to happen when we get to Antwerp.’
‘That bothers me too, and what was all that about a white lady? Our elderly friend seemed to think that we ought to know. Is it code?’
‘If it is I haven’t come across it.’ Marianne put her mug down on the table, and stretched out on the narrow bench. ‘Anyway, I’m going to get some sleep. Wake me up when we get there.’
Elsie finished her drink in silence. She peered out of the salt-encrusted porthole but the sea and the sky seemed to merge in a mass of greyness. Then, suddenly, as if an invisible hand had drawn a line across the horizon, she could see a faint glimmer of light to the east, the start of a new day, she thought tiredly. Where and how will it end?
They were met on the docks in Antwerp by a woman who introduced herself as Adèle. She took them to a small café in a side street where the proprietor seemed to know her, although his greeting was less than warm. They were ushered into a back room, and, as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Elsie realised that they were in a storeroom. Crates and boxes were piled up beneath the barred window, almost obliterating what little light filtered in from the street. The air was thick with the smell of must and damp rot and the flagstone floor felt gritty beneath her feet.
Adèle took a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and offered them round. Marianne accepted one, but Elsie shook her head. ‘No, thank you,’ she said politely. ‘I don’t smoke.’
Adèle struck a match and lit Marianne’s and then her own. ‘You will, my dear. When you’ve been living for a while under the watchful eye of the Boche you might need something to calm your nerves.’
Marianne exhaled smoke into the air above their heads. ‘Why are we here? Where are they sending us?’
Adèle became suddenly businesslike. ‘You will travel to Brussels by train.’ She delved once again into her handbag and produced a manila envelope, which she handed to Marianne. ‘These are your tickets and travel permits. There is also a small amount of currency for your immediate needs.’
Marianne stared at the envelope as if it were a ticking bomb. ‘What do we do when we arrive in Brussels?’
‘You will be met at the station and taken to a school run by two sisters, Laure and Louise Tandel. Unfortunately Laure is currently in a German prison, serving a sentence for defying the authorities.’ Adèle took a long drag on her cigarette, eyeing them thoughtfully. She exhaled with a sigh. ‘This is a dangerous business, and you are foreigners. To be caught means the firing squad.’
‘We know that,’ Elsie said stoutly. ‘We’ll do whatever is required of us.’
‘The women agents in Battalion III of the organisation known as La Dame Blanche, the White Lady, as you say in English, are scattered throughout the country, gathering military intelligence and sending it back to London.’ She gave them an appraising look. ‘But you are perhaps too young and inexperienced for that kind of work. However, I’m sure that Louise will find something for you to do.’
‘When do we leave for Brussels?’ Marianne asked wearily. ‘We seem to have been travelling for days; first by train and then on a very small boat. We’re tired and we’re both in need of a bath and a change of clothes.’
Adèle smiled for the first time since they had met. ‘I can sympathise, but you will have time to rest in Brussels before you are sent to your post.’ She made for the door. ‘Wait here and someone will come to take you to the railway station.’
‘Are you leaving us?’ Elsie asked anxiously.
‘You will be in good hands.’ Adèle left, closing the door behind her.
Marianne sat down on an upturned crate. ‘I’m actually beginning to miss our ghastly room at the lodging house. At least we could get a decent night’s sleep there.’
‘But only if you could ignore the noise from the street below, and the constant thud of footsteps in the corridor outside our room.’
‘Anything is better than that dreadful boat.’ Marianne dropped the cigarette end onto the floor and ground it beneath the heel of her shoe. ‘I’m starving. Do you think they’ll feed us?’
Elsie perched gingerly on a pile of cardboard boxes. ‘I keep thinking of the meals that Mrs Beale cooked for us. I’m so hungry that my stomach hurts.’ She turned with a start as the door opened and the proprietor sidled into the room with a laden tray in his hands.
‘It’s not much,’ he said gruffly, ‘but it’s all we have.’
Elsie jumped up and took the tray from him. ‘Thank you. We’re most grateful for anything.’
/> He grunted and backed out of the room. Elsie put the tray on the floor between them. ‘Bread, sausage and beer.’
Marianne bent down to pick up a hunk of coarse rye bread and a piece of sausage that reeked of garlic. She took a bite, chewed and swallowed. ‘It’s better than nothing.’
‘I could eat almost anything, and we’re probably taking food from their mouths, so we should be grateful.’
Marianne closed her eyes and took another bite. ‘I’m pretending it’s one of Madame Aubertin’s freshly baked croissants, spread with butter and apricot conserve.’
‘Who is Madame Aubertin?’
‘She is the Bellaires’ housekeeper in le Lavandou. She is the most amazing cook, but she is a frustrated opera singer and sings all day long. You can tell her mood by her choice of aria.’
‘Do you think she’s still singing?’
‘I don’t think anything short of death would silence Madame.’ Marianne drank thirstily. ‘This stuff is all right, but you should taste the wines of Provence. They are like nectar.’
Elsie sipped her drink. ‘You speak so fondly of the time you spent there. Would you like to go back to le Lavandou?’
‘It was heaven,’ Marianne said with a sigh. ‘They were the happiest days of my life.’
They finished their meal in silence and settled down to wait for the guide who would take them to the railway station. Elsie felt herself nodding off but came quickly to her senses at the sound of footsteps. She cocked her head on one side. ‘Someone’s coming.’
Moments later the door opened and the space was filled by the proprietor’s considerable bulk. ‘Come,’ he said abruptly. ‘It’s time for you to leave.’
The train was packed with soldiers as well as ordinary Belgians going about their day to day business. The sight of so many German uniforms made Elsie nervous, and suddenly the magnitude of their task dawned upon her. When they were in Paris the war had seemed far away, and the shortages of food and fuel had been inconvenient but not life-threatening. Now they had come face to face with the enemy, and that in itself was confusing. Most of the soldiers were young men, and many of them were little more than fresh-faced boys. They were fellow travellers, chatting, laughing and joking as if they had not a care in the world. It was hard to imagine them as individuals, wielding weapons – prepared to kill or be killed – but this was what they must and would do when they came face to face with the opposing armies.
