Hearts of Resistance

by Soraya M. Lane

  ‘Keep it on your body,’ she said, standing up. ‘Any clothes, well, I’ll be able to talk my way around those, say they’re my boyfriend’s if I have to. I’ll deal with that. Are you sure there’s nothing else?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘I have a photograph in my pocket. There’s nothing else.’

  It was awful to think they’d lived together for so long, yet Alex had nothing personal in the apartment.

  She crossed the room and looked at her reflection. She was a mess. She had an excuse, and she wanted nothing more than to grieve for her mother, but she needed to pull herself together and get Alex and herself to safety. She needed to find out if there was any way of smuggling him out, if the train that would be taking the next load of Jews out of Berlin had left yet or not. And she needed to disappear herself, because no matter what happened, she couldn’t stay.

  She fixed her hair and wiped at her eyes, applying make-up to conceal her puffy red skin. She glanced at Alex, saw the concern etched on his face.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  Sophia’s heart pounded as knocks echoed out.

  ‘Open the door!’

  She met Alex’s terrified gaze as her hands started to shake again. There were only a few moments to answer before the door was broken down, she knew that, and the last thing she wanted was to look like she was hiding something.

  ‘One moment!’ she called out, watching frantically as Alex skidded on the timber floor in his hurry to hide and she ran to the door, pressed against it as if she could physically hold off the men on the other side.

  ‘Open it now or we break it down!’

  A single tear slid down her cheek as her mother’s beautiful face flooded her memories. Everything she did from this step forward, she was going to do for her.

  ‘I’m coming!’

  Sophia reluctantly unlocked the door and slowly turned the handle, too afraid to look back and see where Alex was. Usually she made certain he was hidden first, made sure he was safe as could be, but not this time. The officers wouldn’t wait that long, and if they were forced to smash her door down, they’d be relentless, certain she was hiding something or someone.

  ‘Excuse me, but what are you doing here?’ Sophia asked, summoning every ounce of strength she had and blocking the doorway, buying Alex more time.

  ‘Move aside.’

  She’d feared the Gestapo for a long time, but her fear was almost paralysing now.

  She looked at their faces, the men standing there in uniform, smirking; or maybe she was imagining their amusement at her situation. She didn’t know any more, her pain too deep, clouding her judgment.

  ‘Do you have any idea who my father is? How dare you!’ she said.

  ‘Your father is the one who sent us here. Your mother was a traitor. Maybe you are, too.’

  Sophia steeled herself against their words, surprised at how easily the lies flowed into her thoughts.

  ‘My mother was a Jew lover,’ Sophia snarled. ‘How dare you compare me to her and her love of those filthy people?’

  She stepped aside, hoping she’d given Alex enough time, praying that he knew how false her words were.

  ‘Check everything!’

  She stood, hands at her sides, teeth clenched so hard she feared they might break. Sophia watched as they looked under her bed, in her closet, behind her curtains. Everywhere a person could easily be hiding. It was when they circled back to her sofa that her heart almost stopped beating.

  ‘Make sure there’s no compartment in that sofa.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she complained. ‘If you damage my sofa—’

  Two of the soldiers picked it up then set it down, shrugging.

  ‘Nothing in there.’

  ‘What about this?’

  ‘You think a person could be in my ottoman?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘For goodness’ sake, that’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Fire a shot.’

  Sophia’s mouth went dry. She didn’t know where Alex was. She didn’t know where he was hiding.

  ‘The sofa and this,’ he said, nudging it and meeting her gaze. ‘If you’re so certain no one is in there.’

  This time she knew she wasn’t imagining his smirk. Had her face given her away? Was she not as good an actress as she thought?

  ‘By all means,’ she said, her voice not wavering despite the turmoil inside her. She couldn’t lose Alex and her mother on the same day. ‘But my father paid for all of this. If you don’t mind telling him that he has to have it replaced, then fire away.’

  She thought that would stop them, thought the threat of her father would do something to halt their actions, but it didn’t.

  ‘Fire!’

  The two shots straight into her sofa made her scream. They all laughed, every single one of them finding it so amusing to torture her like that.

  Then they fired at the ottoman and her heart lodged in her throat, the noise of the shot reverberating through her. Then again. And again.

  She shut her eyes, tried to pretend it was all a terrible dream.

  ‘Any blood?’

  She imagined Alex’s bright red blood pooling through the fabric, seeping out on to her rug. Then another bullet fired at her head for harbouring a Jew. But there was nothing to see when she opened her eyes. No screaming, no blood, nothing.

  ‘Good luck getting Father to buy you a new one.’

  The soldiers walked out, laughing, kicking her door on the way past, and Sophia found the strength to shut it behind them before collapsing, her legs buckling beneath her as she slid to the hard floor and wept.

  A noise made her look up. And then she leapt up and ran to her kitchen, to the cabinet that was still open from when they’d searched the room.

  ‘That was close.’

  Sophia bit back a scream as Alex’s head appeared from behind the false wall he’d built, his dark brown eyes meeting hers.

  ‘Oh, Alex! I, I . . .’ She gasped for air. ‘Thank God. I thought you were dead, I thought . . .’ She couldn’t even get her words straight as she whispered to him. She’d thought he might have dived into the ottoman to hide because it was closer, easier, but he was alive!

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ he said grimly.

  ‘I know.’

  The overwhelming love she felt for Alex right now was immediately overshadowed by everything else. Her mother was dead. Her father didn’t believe she was innocent, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent those men. Everything she did from this step forward could put her life and the lives of others in danger, could jeopardise their entire network.

  She wanted to do more, needed to do more, but for now she needed to figure out how to get them both out of Berlin.

  Sophia had never been so scared in her life. For the first time, she’d chosen to use her false identity papers during the day, terrified of using her real name now that she was under suspicion by the Gestapo. She’d fled with Alex in tow the night her apartment had been raided, knowing that if anyone recognised her, they’d both no doubt be killed. Twenty-four hours later, she was even more terrified than she’d been then.

  She ran her fingers through her short hair, refusing to get sentimental over the fact she’d chopped her long blonde locks off to above her shoulders. Before, she’d looked just like her mother, but the rough cut made her look the complete opposite now. She rubbed her thumb over her ring finger, finding comfort in the weight and feel of her mama’s ring resting there.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Alex asked, his collar turned up to brush his jaw but doing nothing to disguise his face.

  Travelling at night and hiding in the shadows was slow, but somehow they’d so far managed to go undetected.

  ‘We keep walking,’ she said, knowing there was nothing else they could do but keep moving. They’d been walking for hours and Sophia’s feet were rubbed raw, but she didn’t know what else they could do.

  ‘You don’t need to do this,’ Alex muttered, glancing at her. It was so dark but with the moon high in the sky she cou
ld just see him. ‘I don’t want you risking everything for me.’

  She shook her head. ‘Enough. Keep walking.’

  Sophia kept replaying snippets of conversation over in her mind, remembering the person who’d collected the young Jewish man saying that it would be another few days before he was on his way to Sweden. She had to believe that they would be putting him on a train, like she’d done with others in the past. Getting Alex on that train was the only way she knew how to save him, and she’d guessed that tonight had to be the night. She just hoped the meeting point was still the same.

  They kept walking, on and on, Sophia pausing only to take some food from her bag and pass half of it to Alex. She nibbled at the small piece of stale bread. Her stomach was growling with hunger, but she didn’t have a lot on her and so didn’t want to eat too much. It could be days before she was safe and had more food to consume.

  When they reached the edge of the woods, Sophia recognised her surroundings. She’d escorted two small groups there before and walked them in, then walked back out to ensure they hadn’t been followed. She knew it was the right place.

  ‘This way,’ she whispered, touching Alex’s shoulder.

  He followed her, then they fell into step beside each other again. Sophia knew they would surprise the others lying in wait, that they could be mistakenly killed by their own people, but as far as she could see, she and Alex were as good as dead anyway.

  ‘Hurry,’ she hissed, worrying that they might have already missed the train.

  She roughly remembered where there was a small shack, and when she finally caught sight of it in the moonlight shining above them, she had to bite back tears. She reached for Alex’s hand and held it tight for a moment, before holding both her hands up. He did the same, copying her, and they kept walking forward.

  ‘Friends,’ she whispered, leaning into the old, falling-down structure. ‘We are friends,’ she repeated.

  They were greeted by a silence that seemed to stretch for ever, and just when she was about to give up hope, certain they were too late, a rustle sounded out in the bushes behind them. Sophia kept her hands held high.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  She recognised Horse and dipped her head. Tears of relief started to fall then. ‘This is my Alex,’ she whispered. ‘I need to get him on the train. Please.’

  Horse waved to them both, and they disappeared into the woods with him, hiding low behind thick bushes. She quickly explained what had happened to them.

  ‘Is there any evidence of what you’ve done for us in the past?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘You’ll lead them straight to us if you stay in Berlin,’ Horse muttered. ‘You need to get out.’

  Sophia gulped. ‘I know. That’s why I came tonight.’

  Alex’s deep, gravelly whisper took her by surprise. ‘Can she come with us?’

  She looked frantically between the two men. ‘I have my papers. I can get out of Germany on my own.’

  Horse grunted. ‘No, he’s right. You go with them tonight. We’ll have to move fast to make enough space, but we can do it.’

  A rumble indicated the train was on its way; it was impossible to miss the deep noise as it started to come closer.

  ‘You can do more to help us if you’re gone. Make your way to France,’ Horse said quickly. ‘Move!’

  He darted out of the bushes, and at the same time an entire group of men appeared from nowhere.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Alex asked, clasping her hand tight.

  Sophia moved quickly, pulling him with her. ‘They’ve already bribed the conductor and train workers, but they can’t stop the train for long,’ she hissed. ‘We have to hurry.’

  When the train halted, it was an impressive sight. Even more impressive were the men rushing to open crates of furniture inside a boxcar. Sophia’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the young man she’d helped only nights earlier, with no idea at the time that she’d be fleeing her country shoulder to shoulder with him.

  She waited for the small group of Jews to board first, helping to seal the crate back up. And then it was her and Alex’s turn. She hoped and prayed that no one had followed them, that dogs wouldn’t be on the trail and come for the brave men who were helping them once they’d gone. When the train pulled away, those men would be hurrying to burn the furniture they’d emptied from the crates, then making their way back to their daytime lives, not letting anyone know what they did under the cover of darkness to help those most in need.

  Sophia huddled close to Alex. It was just the two of them in the second crate, and she guessed at least six people were sitting silently side by side in the first.

  ‘When we get to Sweden, if we make it there alive, I can’t stay with you,’ she whispered to him, dropping her head to his shoulder. ‘I have to keep helping, I can’t sit by and just—’

  ‘I know,’ he whispered, not letting her finish. ‘Just promise me that when the war is over, we’ll be married. Promise me you’ll come looking for me.’ He let out a deep, pained sigh. ‘I would do anything to come with you, to help, but without speaking French or English . . .’ His words faded.

  Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. It was heartbreaking that he felt so hopeless.

  ‘Once the war is over, for two months, I’ll wait every day at twelve noon outside that little church we could see from my apartment window. Promise you’ll do the same?’ she asked. ‘If we’re alive, that way we’ll find each other.’

  Alex squeezed her hand. ‘I promise.’

  As the train lurched and started to rumble forward, Sophia shut her eyes tight and prayed that they’d make it to Sweden alive. No matter how hard it would be to walk away from Alex, she would do it. She had to make her way to France, had to honour her mother and fight against Hitler.

  Thank you, Mama, she silently whispered, thinking of all the lessons her mother had insisted upon, making sure her French was perfect. Her mother had liked Sophia to speak French with her, to remind her of her family, to make sure Sophia knew that she was as much French as she was German. Sophia couldn’t possibly have known it at the time, but it was her mother’s language that would make it possible for her to join the Resistance in France.

  There she could honour her mother’s homeland. Do what she knew in her heart was right. And the Resistance movement, full of women working underground to help fight the war, would be crazy not to take her on. She was a German woman with a French-born mother, had an intimate knowledge of the Nazis, could speak fluent French and had already proven she had the guts to stand up for what was right.

  She was going to join the underground movement there, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HAZEL

  SCOTLAND

  1943

  They were stationed at Arisaig House now, in Scotland, and Hazel’s exhaustion was like a persistent chill to her bones. The weather was cooler than she’d expected, and given the conditions the instructors kept putting them out in, she was surprised she hadn’t frozen. Today they’d been stripped of their coats and anything warm to wear, and she’d been outside training all day with nothing to eat. She’d never been so tired or hungry, so close to collapsing. But she’d seen what happened to others who hadn’t dug deep into themselves and kept going, and there was no way she was going to face the same fate after getting so far. She was determined to succeed and get to France.

  She hauled herself into bed, reaching for a blanket and quickly wrapping it around herself. A bath would have been heavenly, even a few handfuls of warm water to splash against her face, but her legs wouldn’t carry her any further. It was time for bed. It had been six weeks since she’d left home, and her initial four weeks at Wanborough Manor had been a walk in the park compared to what she’d faced in her time here. But it was almost over. It had to be.

  Hazel shut her eyes, the burn beneath her lids starting to ease as she shut ever
ything else out. She needed sleep. Deep down, she knew her superiors needed to be this hard on her, because if she couldn’t withstand it here, then she’d never succeed in the field. But that knowledge didn’t make coping with such long, tiresome days any easier.

  She drifted into slumber, her body melting into the mattress. It was the best thing she’d ever felt, dropping into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  ‘Get up!’

  Hazel woke abruptly, stifling a scream as a man’s rough hands shook her by the shoulders. She had no idea if she’d been asleep two minutes or two hours, and the hands didn’t stop, fingers digging into her skin, pulling her so violently that she thought she was going to break.

  A torch was pointed at her face, blinding her as she was thrown back down on to the bed.

  ‘Get up!’

  It was only then that she realised the man was speaking in German. She pulled herself up, blinking as the lights came on. She was shaking from exhaustion and fear, but she tried to assess the situation. A woman had started to scream, the men were still yelling, and . . . she blinked again, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her, if this could be a dream.

  They’re in German uniforms. They were German soldiers. Or if they weren’t, well, they were doing a damn fine job of acting.

  ‘What is your name?’ the German demanded, his face so close to hers that she felt the spittle from his mouth land on her skin.

  ‘Hazel. What is this about?’ she asked in perfect French.

  ‘Get up!’ he yelled. ‘Get up now!’

  He was speaking in French now and she did as he said, reaching for her shoes and getting a kick in the side for her efforts. The room spun as she clutched her side, doubled over and trying her best to straighten even though the breath had been stolen from her body.

  ‘Move!’

  She stumbled, barefoot, leaving her shoes behind and fumbling her way forward. The soldier grabbed her shoulder violently and pushed her against the wall in the hallway.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  Hazel knew that this had to be a drill. Surely this was only a drill? Even if it wasn’t, she knew she had to stick to her story anyway, for the safety of everyone involved. And if it was a drill and she didn’t? Then she’d be sent to the cooler.