It was Kurt grinning this time. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘No wife. And you?’ He glanced at her hands, no doubt looking for a ring. She’d entrusted her wedding ring to Hazel while she was gone, and as she rubbed her thumb across her fingers, she felt bare without the weight of it there.
‘No, no wife,’ she said, knowing she’d made a mistake but expecting him to laugh at her mistake.
He did, grinning at her and shaking his head. ‘Husband,’ he said slowly, ‘you would have a husband if you were married.’
She giggled and hated how easy she found it to be silly and immature. She was fortunate that she looked so youthful and could pretend to be unmarried and in her early twenties.
The train slowed then, suddenly jerking, and Kurt threw his arm out to stop her from shooting forward. His hand brushed her and he smiled and pulled back.
‘It was lovely meeting you, Roseanne,’ he said as the train groaned.
It wouldn’t be long before they were at the station, and she knew he’d have work to do now. He might be about to check identity cards and passes again, perhaps search bags, and she gritted her teeth as she made herself smile back at him. It was a dangerous liaison to be having, flirting with Kurt, but it would have been even more dangerous if she’d ignored him and been rude when he’d clearly been so interested.
‘I hope to see you again,’ she said, shaking her head at how stilted her words sounded. It pained her to speak a language she knew well so poorly, but she was enjoying playing her character, like an actress performing on a stage.
‘Let me,’ he said, taking the coat from her shoulders when she leaned forward, before putting it back on himself. He bent down and reached for her hands, nodding. ‘At least you warmed a little.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
As the train continued to slow, Kurt stepped sideways and reached up, his hands closing over the handle of her case before she could protest. Instead she sat frozen, waiting, certain that he was about to open it – or worse, that the handle would give way and her case would fall open, the pieces she was carrying spilling all over the floor.
‘Here,’ he said, passing it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, ready to pass out as her fingers clenched the handle and she pulled it closer to her body.
He gave her one last look, his mouth still tilted up to make his entire face light up, and then finally walked away.
Rose had thought she was tough. She thought she had nothing left to live for and nothing to be scared about. But Kurt had shown her how close she’d come to being found out, how easy it would have been for him to ask to look inside her case. And then she would have found out just how easily the charming young German could turn into a cruel captor, of that she was absolutely certain.
Rose prepared to stand, holding on as she rose, legs frozen cold, her toes locked and aching as if she had frostbite. But she kept the most pleasant look on her face that she could muster and pushed through the pain. All she had to do was deliver the codes to the other cells and pick up the radio parts, make appearances at a couple of stores that were in the business of selling make-up to at least make her cover story look legitimate if anyone was observing her, and then get back on the train and return to the chateau.
Her role was clear and her job simple so long as she wasn’t stopped and searched. All she had to do now was convince everyone between here and there that she was indeed a glamourous young woman passionate about her job.
She might not feel glamourous anymore, but she certainly knew what it meant to be passionate about a job.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HAZEL
Hazel smiled at Harry and wished he didn’t make her pulse quicken with one brief glance and one very cute, dimpled smile.
‘I’m worried about you.’
She shook her head as he stared at her, his dimples disappearing into a frown.
‘Please don’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I made the decision to come here and I want to do what’s needed of me.’
He sighed, his smile slowly returning. ‘Where do they even find women like you?’
She shrugged. ‘There are plenty of women doing amazing things at home, too. When you get back, you’ll see.’
He reached out, his fingers gently brushing hers. Hazel stayed still, her breath catching in her throat as his fingertips fell to rest over the back of her hand.
‘I don’t need to be told how amazing our women are,’ he said, voice low and husky. ‘Because I’m not that kind of man. But I do worry about you. About all three of you.’
‘You do?’ she asked, wishing she had the willpower to pull her hand away. Instead she kept dead still, liking the warmth of his skin touching hers.
‘It’s you I worry the most about, though.’
She needed to tell him again that she was engaged, needed to make it clear that his advances weren’t welcome. She’d made a new career based on lies and deceit ever since that first meeting when she was recruited by the SOE, but for some reason she couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth when it came to Harry.
‘I . . . I . . . ,’ she started, looking up into his dark eyes. They were seated on the ground, backs up against the wall. There was a decent space between them, the only connection made by his outstretched arm.
‘I don’t think I’ll be here much longer,’ Harry said, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts. ‘The last thing they want is an injured ex-pilot holed up for too long.’
Hazel disagreed that the others would be getting sick of him being there, but he was right about not thinking he’d be there much longer. Almost a day after Rose had left, she’d finally patched her radio together again, although it was only a temporary fix. Now that she’d been in direct contact with Paris, her next job was to confirm the rescue of a handful of Allied airmen and have them smuggled out to Spain. As well as listening and waiting on more news of the Allied invasion.
‘I’m engaged to be married,’ she said, the words just blurting out.
He didn’t pull his hand away, instead started to move his fingers again over hers. ‘I know. You’ve told me that already.’
She gulped. ‘I don’t want to, well . . .’
‘You don’t need to say it,’ Harry said. ‘I know.’
Hazel felt better now she’d said it, pleased she’d at least tried to explain, but it didn’t change the way she felt. And she had a feeling it wasn’t going to change anything about Harry, either. There was something between them, something that was impossible to ignore, and she knew he felt it just as keenly as she did.
Hazel heard someone calling her, a muffled shout from another room, and she knew she needed to get back to work. She’d stopped only for a quick break and something to eat, her head pounding from hour after hour concentrating at her desk. After confirming Harry’s collection, she needed to get to work pinpointing exact positions for drops for other cells ahead of the landings. But she knew her work would be hindered by having to fiddle with her set to try to keep it working, and it would be like that until Rose returned with the part she needed to fix it properly.
She reluctantly pulled her hand away from Harry’s, but he surprised her by tightening his grip, fingers firm against hers as he tried to keep her still. His skin was smooth and warm, reassuring even though it was also so obviously forbidden.
‘Come here,’ he murmured.
Hazel hesitated, stared down at him. She shouldn’t. She needed to leave, needed to put distance between them before something she regretted happened, before . . .
To hell with it.
Hazel dropped back down again, her breath ragged. Harry’s eyes fell to her mouth and her lips parted involuntarily as she lowered to her knees. They were both still until Harry’s hand rose, his palm soft to her cheek as he gently caressed her skin.
She made the final move despite her mind screaming out to her to stop. She’d been thinking about it for so long, but she’d never had any intention of following through and turning it into
reality. Hazel slowly, carefully touched her mouth to Harry’s, the lightest of kisses as their lips brushed. She paused, his breath hot against her, his body so warm and inviting.
‘We shouldn’t,’ she whispered.
Harry didn’t answer her with words. Instead he leaned in and kissed her again, for longer this time, his mouth firmer, his lips moving against hers and making her skin tingle.
‘I have to go,’ she finally said, heart racing as she dipped down to kiss him one more time.
‘Then go,’ he whispered back.
Hazel reluctantly stood, looking at Harry one last time, knowing from the heat in her face that her cheeks would be stained a dark shade of pink. She’d never, ever thought she’d be unfaithful to the promise she’d made John, and it terrified her how easily she’d done it. But everything felt so different now, as if she were a different person leading a completely different life.
But she had to get him home safe. She needed to be able to do her job without worrying about him, needed to stay completely focused without any distractions, and that meant helping him and any other Allied airmen in the area out of France and on their way back to England.
Harry. His name circled her mind as she hurried upstairs to the attic, her little bolt hole away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the big house.
She should be thinking about codes, and instead there was a handsome man with lips like silk against hers who had infiltrated her thoughts.
‘Do I even need to ask where Harry is?’
Hazel bit her lip, turning on the staircase and finding Sophia standing at the bottom, arms folded and a knowing smile on her face. She tried to remain expressionless.
‘Well . . . ,’ Hazel started, clearing her throat and thinking quickly what to say in her defence.
‘No need to explain, I didn’t say a thing,’ Sophia said with a laugh, making Hazel grin. ‘Do you want me to take over for a bit so you can have a longer rest?’
Things had changed between them now, and for the better. Mind you, after what they’d been through, there was little they didn’t know about each other, and very little they wouldn’t trust the other with. Besides, not having Rose with them had brought them closer; they were both worried about her, and not knowing where she was or whether her mission had been a success was no doubt playing on Sophia’s mind as much as it was Hazel’s.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Hazel said, forgetting all about Harry and refocusing on her work. ‘I’m only worried that being on the radio so long could give up our position.’
Sophia nodded, following her all the way up and into the small room. ‘Look, if we were in the city, I think we’d need to be extremely careful. We’d have to be on the move after every transmission.’
Hazel agreed. ‘I know. But for all we know, we’re not as isolated as we think here. What if I’m compromising our security? What if we’re not being careful enough?’
She listened to Sophia sigh as they sat down. Hazel was at her desk and Sophia was on the bed, facing her.
‘How’s the radio holding up?’
Hazel groaned. ‘It’s terrible! I have to keep trying to patch it up, and I lose the connection all the time.’
‘Rose will be back soon. As soon as she’s here, we move on.’
‘I think we need to. We’re safer on the move than being sitting ducks for the Germans.’
Sophia lay back on the bed, no doubt deep in thought. She was the most introverted of them all, even though she was their natural leader. But the reason she was so good was because of the way she could read a situation, the thought she put into everything they did before they did it.
Hazel tried to tune into the BBC again once her communications for the day were over, but the signal kept fading out and her frustration was rising. Not to mention the fuzzy feeling in her stomach, the gnawing sensation she’d had ever since Rose had left. Something didn’t feel right to her, only she didn’t know if it was merely worry over her friend or something more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ROSE
Rose’s palm was clammy against the handle of her case as she walked. It was heavier this time. She’d thought the trip back would be easier because it was her second time and she knew what she was doing, knew what it was like getting past the security checks and into the train, how she felt playing her role. How wrong she’d been.
The case was certainly weighing her arm down, and she had to grit her teeth and force herself to keep walking, a smile fixed on her face as she pretended it wasn’t just about taking her arm off. In truth she could walk for hours if she had to – she was determined enough – but her stamina wasn’t her concern. It was being stopped. It was someone touching her case. Because this time, she had a crucial radio part and additional aerial with her, as well as explosives that she’d been given in case they needed to do more to assist before the landings.
The wind was cool on her cheeks but Rose welcomed it, enjoying how it felt against her flushed skin. She wanted the war to be over as much as the next person, but she also loved the work she was doing. Her racing pulse might unsettle her, but she was good at what she did, and something about that understanding always sent a sense of pride through her.
She noticed Gestapo and flashed a smile, not slowing her pace. She would be in the train station soon. Once she was inside she’d be able to show her pass, flirt if she had to, then find a seat and keep to herself until it was time to board. Only once she was seated and the train was moving would she start to relax.
Rose took comfort from the click of her low heels, the rhythmic noise soothing her as she kept up her fast walk. She was almost there, she was in the station, she was . . .
‘Roseanne?’
Her heart felt like it jumped with a thud to the concrete beneath her feet. Rose sucked back a breath and turned, knowing from the thick German accent who it had to be.
‘Kurt!’ she exclaimed, waving at him and grinning as if he was the best thing she’d seen all day.
He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against and strode over, his smile wide, just like it had been that night on the train. She thought again what a shame it was that he was a Nazi. Not that she was even interested in other men, her heart was still full to brimming for Peter, but the thought still crossed her mind.
‘Are you heading back again so soon?’ he asked in German.
She nodded. ‘My, ah, business,’ she said, ‘it is all’ – she paused for effect – ‘finished.’
He gestured in the direction she’d been heading and matched her pace as they slowly walked side by side.
‘If I wasn’t working,’ he said, eyes as bright as his smile, ‘I would have asked you to have dinner with me.’
She blushed, her cheeks hot, only it wasn’t because she was flattered. The burn inside of her was anger at the fact that a man who was an intruder in her beautiful country thought she would be swooning over the idea of dinner with him.
‘That would have been . . . ,’ she said, laughing. ‘Wonderful.’
‘Let me take your bag,’ he said, taking her by surprise as he reached for it, his hand grazing hers as he clasped the handle. ‘Please.’
Rose felt her heart sink for the second time in less than a few minutes. She let go – she had no choice unless she was about to refuse him – and his eyes narrowed the moment he took it from her.
‘It’s heavy,’ he said, no longer walking as he looked from her to the bag.
‘So much make-up,’ she explained quickly. ‘And I took some magazines, ah, catalogues of new cosmetics that I can show to my customers.’
She realised she was speaking too rapidly, her German suddenly too fast for someone who was supposed to have only a limited grasp of the language. Rose smiled and laughed, flashing her eyes at him, doing her best to flirt when inside a voice screamed at her to run. She’d blown it. She knew as surely as she knew her own name that she’d blown it.
‘Magazines?’ he said, his smile returning. ‘Oh, of course. Of cou
rse.’
She started to walk again, trying not to panic, letting him hold it for her, the tension within her slowly starting to subside. There was some shouting then and she glanced back, saw a couple being pulled aside, followed by more raised voices. She had no idea what was going on but Kurt stopped and walked back a few steps, calling out and then looking back at her.
‘May I see your pass,’ he said quietly, looking more like a guard and less like a friendly face now. ‘I should have checked it before.’
Rose tried to stop her hand from shaking as she reached inside her jacket pocket for it. She smiled at him when she passed it over. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘You know me, sorry, I didn’t think to show it to you.’
He silently took it from her.
‘Will you be able to sit with me?’ she asked, smiling. ‘On the train ride back?’
He looked up at her, still holding her pass. When another Gestapo officer joined them, her mouth went dry as if every bit of moisture in her body had been drained away.
The other man gestured to her case. She smiled. Kurt looked at her again, frowning now, then assuring the other man that he’d met her before and that nothing was amiss. She watched on with a smile, acting like she had no idea what they were talking about.
Until she heard the words she’d been dreading from the other man.
‘Open her case and look.’
Had someone betrayed her? Were they looking for someone? Why was she being searched? This man was obviously Kurt’s superior given the way the younger man nodded, ready to obey orders.
Kurt met her gaze again before dropping the case to the ground and bending to one knee. Her lungs screamed, her body shook, her face froze into a smile. She had a knife on her body. She could stab him or the other man, slit their throats if she had to, just like Hazel had done to the German near the train line. But then instead of a chance at life, she’d be shot in the head by their comrades before she had time to see the bullet coming.
Rose’s breath shuddered out as Kurt looked up. His face was blank, the smile long gone as he instead searched through her things, clearly confused. He lifted the catalogue that was on the top, pushed aside the pots of make-up and lipsticks, and then his hand hovered. Rose waited, barely breathing. When he asked quickly for something sharp, her heart sank – a sharp blade cutting through the lining that she’d so carefully sewn in herself to hide what she was carrying.
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