"You're so beautiful, Sarah, and I want you so much. Are you sure you want this too?"
Sarah nodded, no words were necessary for her eyes spoke for her.
"Come with me." Tony stood and offered her his hand. "Let's go into the boathouse."
Sarah smiled as he led her into the old boathouse. It was dark and quiet, safe from prying eyes. Leading her to a pile of blankets in the corner, Tony gently lowered her to the floor. He smiled a smile so full of love that Sarah’s heart melted, and she knew she was doing the right thing. Tony leant down to kiss her again. For a long time nothing could be heard save the sounds of their sighs, and their whispered words of love.
When it was over, Tony lay for a time, gently stroking her smooth, naked skin. Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought that Sarah would be his so completely and utterly. They had shared something so special that he knew that, whatever happened, there would always be an unbreakable bond between them. He sighed, and Sarah reached out to touch his face.
"Happy?"
He opened his eyes and looked into hers, eyes so full of love that he felt he would drown in them.
"Yes." He ran his fingers through her rich red hair. "That was your first time, wasn't it?"
Sarah nodded but said nothing.
"I had thought...I don't mean to pry...but... you and Joe...?"
"I wanted to wait, but I left it too long. War doesn’t allow us to wait for anything."
"Do you regret it?"
"Not making love to Joe? Yes, I do. But I don't regret making love with you." She stroked his thigh, her touch gently as a butterfly’s wings, and Tony felt the stirrings of desire once more. "Who knows what will happen over the next few months? At least we both know how we feel now, and will have the memory of this to hold when we get lonely."
"I’m going to miss you so much while I'm away. I wish now that I could stay here with you forever. That this boathouse were the whole world, and we could spend the rest of our lives here alone."
Sarah smiled at his words. "I wish that too, but you have to leave soon, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. We need the weapons you are going to America for. The boathouse will still be here when you get back. And so will I."
As he gazed into her eyes, Tony wished that the war was over so that he would never again need to keep secrets from the woman he loved. He knew that no matter what physical dangers lay ahead, the biggest burden of this war for him was the secrets he had to keep about his job, secrets he was afraid might drive them apart. Sarah snuggled closer and he smiled as he gazed down at the head resting on his shoulder. He leant over and gently kissed her hair. It smelt so fresh and clean, and he closed his eyes as he savoured the moment.
Sarah pressed her lips against his chest, and gently stroked the hard muscles of his thigh. She had never imagined that making love could feel so wonderful, leaving her fulfilled, warm, aglow with love yet longing for more. As she stroked his thigh, Tony felt his desire rising once more and drew her close within his arms as his lips hungrily sought out hers.
As they explored each other’s bodies, shared each touch, each kiss, each look of love, all thoughts of the conflict which raged around the globe were banished from their minds until they were lost in themselves alone.
78
Within thirty-six hours of leaving Heronfield, Tony found himself seated in the fuselage of a Whitley, the roar of the engines filling his ears as the plane taxied along the runway before rising up into the dark night sky. They banked steeply to the right, then levelled out as the plane headed south towards France. Tony smiled across at Angeline, who was leaning back against the metal wall.
"Are you all right?" He had to shout above the noise of the plane and was pleased to see his companion nod in reply.
"Yes. I'm fine."
"Nervous?"
Again Angeline nodded. "Yes."
"So am I." Tony smiled. "I've already parachuted into France once, and I thought it would be easier the second time round, but it isn't. The danger is still as great and my stomach is still churning!"
Angeline smiled. "Thanks."
"What for?"
"For trying to make me feel better." She eyed her packs ranged on the floor around her. Clothing, radio, gun. "I have everything and I'm well trained. I'll be all right."
Tony nodded, and the two people closed their eyes and buried themselves in their thoughts for the remainder of the journey.
Tony had drifted into sleep and was awakened by a hand shaking him gently by the shoulder.
"We're nearly there, sir."
Tony opened his eyes and looked up at the member of the aircrew.
"Right."
Within moments the two SOE agents were ready. Parachute ripcords attached to static lines, packages tied to their belts, standing beside the hole in the floor which would be their access to France.
"I'll go first."
Angeline looked across at Tony. "Right."
The two nervously watched the red light shining on the wall, waiting for it to go out and the green to come on in its place. The wait seemed to be endless as the plane banked slowly to the left until they were over the dropping zone. Then the light changed.
"Good luck." The airman slapped Tony on the shoulder. "Go!"
Tony, hands tightly by his side, stepped forward and found himself falling between the metal edges of the hole. He fell fast through the cold night air, then was brought up short by the pulling of the ripcord. He looked up and watched the silk of his chute billowing open above him as he found himself falling once more through the cold empty skies above war torn France.
MAY 1942
79
It was hard to see where he was falling, for the land was dark beneath its blackout mantle. As Tony stared down beneath his feet, he detected a darker shadow to his left and carefully steered away from it. As he fell further the ground rose up to meet him, and the dark shadow resolved itself into a clump of trees. With cold hands he steered towards the trees so that he would land closer to them, yet not close enough to become entangled in their branches. Suddenly he could make out the land rushing up to meet him. He clamped his knees and feet tightly together. Seconds later he had hit the ground and was rolling to lessen the impact. With practiced movements he leapt to his feet and began to gather the canopy towards himself, fighting the gentle breeze which sought to keep it inflated. Over to his right, he could just make out the shadow of Angeline’s parachute as it fell, then he saw her hit the ground and roll with the fall. Within seconds she too was on her feet, gathering in the yards of billowing silk.
"Bring it over here."
Tony’s voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard him and nodded, dragging her chute into the dark shelter of the trees. Tony had already rolled away a fallen log and was digging beneath it; soon there was a hole large enough to take the two parachutes. They covered them with earth, the fallen log and, finally, a deep pile of leaf litter. When they stepped back to scrutinise the scene, it was impossible to tell that the log had been moved. Overhead, the sound of the Whitley’s engines had faded into the distance and the night sounds of the woods surrounded them. Tony could hear the wind in the branches. Somewhere over to his left, a small animal rooted amongst the dead leaves and overhead an owl hooted its hunting cry, but no other sounds disturbed the stillness. Tony smiled.
"It looks like we've made it without being seen."
Angeline nodded. "Do we split up here?" She looked around, trying to get her bearings. "I think I have to head south for the city."
Tony nodded. "That's right, but we don't have to split up yet. I have to come with you as far as the coast road. I'll leave you there." He began to skirt the trees as he spoke. "Come on, I'll lead the way."
Falling in behind his dark shadow, a bag with some clothing in one hand and the wireless set in the other, Angeline followed her companion quickly and silently through the deceptively peaceful countryside of Occupied France. It took them little more than half an hou
r to reach the road, where Tony stopped and crouched behind a sheltering hedge. Angeline knelt beside him.
"Right. This is where we split up." He looked up at the sky as he spoke. Clouds blocked out many of the stars and there was no moon to light the way. "It's dark enough for you to use the road without being seen, but don't forget to listen out for any German vehicles. They use only minimal lighting at night and could be on you before you know it."
Angeline smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be all right." She held out her hand and he took it, his eyes on the determined features which showed not the slightest trace of fear. "Good luck, Albert."
He squeezed her hand. "Good luck to you too, Angeline. And take care. You’ll be in a far more vulnerable position than me."
She shrugged. "Each job has its own dangers. Now, I'll be off."
Without another word, the plump bespectacled woman wormed her way through the hedge and started off southwards down the road. After watching her retreating form for a moment, Tony slipped quietly across the road and into the shelter of the trees on the other side. For him it was like coming home. He had spent most of his summers with his Grandmother de Thierry when he was a boy and he knew these woods almost as well as he knew those back at Heronfield. His feet led him unerringly across the northern edge of his grandmother’s estate, and then down towards the small cottage inhabited by the Boues family. It was 3.30 in the morning when he slipped past the vegetable patch, noticing the prepared soil and one or two crops already beginning to show. Then he was beside the pig pen. He found the small hiding place still waiting, and stashed his revolver and Sten gun before hurrying over to the dark, silent cottage. He tried the door, but it was bolted from the inside. Slowly he circumnavigated the building until he found a window that had been left ajar in the kitchen. Slipping silently inside he sat in Jean-Paul’s chair and settled down to wait.
Tony must have dropped off to sleep. He was woken by a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to see the cold light of dawn flooding the room. He looked up into Jean-Paul’s eyes which registered surprise, incredulity, delight.
"Albert! What are you doing here?"
Tony stood up and embraced his host. "Jean-Paul. It's good to see you again. I'm sorry I broke in like this, but I didn't want to make a habit of waking you up in the middle of the night!"
Jean-Paul laughed. "You shouldn’t worry about that, my friend! Sit down and I’ll make you a coffee, or at least what passes for coffee in these troubled times."
Tony smiled. "We have the same trouble back at home."
He watched as Jean-Paul put on the kettle and took down two bowls from the shelf before turning back to look at the young Englishman.
"We were worried about you, Albert. You don’t know how difficult it was, not knowing if your injuries were healing well, or even if you had arrived back in England safely."
"Thank you for your concern, Jean-Paul. There’s not much to tell really. The submarine got me back without any trouble, then I was sent to hospital to convalesce. Would you believe they actually sent me home for that!"
"Then your family now know what you're doing?"
"No. They were told I’d been injured in an air raid. They think I'm over in America at the moment."
"But what are you doing here?"
"I've come to re-establish our group, so that we can fight the Germans more effectively. I brought a radio operator with me who will be living in Saint Nazaire, and will have no contact with us. I shall send any messages to London through that channel." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Would you take the risk of knowing how to contact the radio operator, just in case anything happens to me?"
"Of course I will. It’s sensible for more than one to know how to contact him."
Tony was about to correct him and say 'her', but then he thought better of it. The less Jean-Paul knew, the safer he, and Angeline, would be. He smiled at the Frenchman.
"What have you and the others been up to?"
Jean-Paul shrugged. "Very little I'm afraid. Claude has been able to cause some disruption by tampering with a few German vehicles, but it has not really caused any damage."
Tony frowned. "Tell him to stop that. I don't want him to be taken and shot for stealing starter motors. He has much more useful work to do.
Jean-Paul nodded. "Yes, of course. It’s just that he felt so useless after the excitement of the attack on the U-boat base. We all did. We all wanted to continue the fight."
"What about the others?"
"Charles has been 're-directing' the odd lorry load of German food supplies."
Tony shook his head, exasperated. "Childish tricks. If he’s not careful he’ll be taken and shot as a black-marketeer. Doesn't he understand that I want us to do big things? One hit causing a lot of damage, not stupid dangerous pranks which will not really help."
"We all know that, Albert, but you weren’t here." Jean-Paul smiled gently. "You had fired us up to fight, and it was hard to settle back into dull routine again after you left. Claude and Charles will be only too happy to stop what they’re doing to work with you again."
Tony smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Jean-Paul. You’re right, of course. What about you and Madeleine? What have you been doing?"
"We have been behaving ourselves."
Tony laughed. "Point taken Jean-Paul. I'm really looking forward to working with you again."
The door to the kitchen opened, and Theresa came in.
“Papa, I..." She stopped when she saw Tony, her face breaking into a wide grin of pure delight. "Albert!" She flung herself into his arms. "I'm so happy to see you fit and well again!"
"And I'm happy to see you too, Theresa." Tony smiled warmly at the twelve year old. "I wanted to say thank you, for all your help on my last visit."
Theresa blushed. "I was glad to help, Albert. And I hope you’ll let me help again this time."
Tony smiled. "We'll see, Theresa. We'll see."
The young girl turned and raced from the room, calling excitedly as she went.
"Mamma! Jeanne! Albert is back!"
Jean-Paul laughed. "Welcome home Albert!"
80
Dawn was not far away by the time the dark mass of Saint Nazaire rose up in front of Angeline. The blackout was in force and not a light showed; it seemed the war was the same for civilians everywhere, although Britain did not have to contend with a curfew such as the one which was imposed upon the French. Angeline left the grey ribbon of the road, and hid in the trees that bordered it, waiting for daylight to come and the curfew to be over.
The wait was not long. As she sat with her back to the moss covered trunk of an old oak tree the sky began to grow lighter. She watched for a time, and the suburbs of the city gradually came to life. People were moving about now that the curfew was over, on their way to work, or to the shops, children going to school. A number of people left the city, some on foot and the remainder on bicycles, but none by car for fuel was severely rationed. With the increasing life of the city to cover her approach Angeline made her way out from the shelter of the trees and onto the road. Attaching herself to the tail of a group of farm workers hoping to sell their produce, the English spy slipped into the city.
It was a sombre place, the hand of war heavy upon it. The shops held few goods, and what there were were necessities. Luxuries seemed to have totally disappeared. The people who walked the streets looked serious, as though there was little enjoyment in their lives. Everywhere she looked, Angeline was aware of the occupation - the red, black and white of the Nazi swastika, notices written in both French and German and, above all, the presence of German military personnel. That was the strangest and most disturbing factor for Angeline, to be in amongst the enemy who strutted around as though they owned the city, which indeed they did. With a deep breath and an attempt to appear nonchalant so that she would blend in with the colourless population of the city, Angeline made her way deeper into the suburbs. Stopping outside a small tobacconist’s, she perused the advertisements in the hope
of finding a room to let, but there was nothing. Pushing open the door she stepped inside.
The owner, rather glum-faced and seemingly suspicious of strangers, glanced over from his position behind the counter.
"What do you want?"
"I'm looking for lodgings. Do you know of any?"
The old man frowned. "You are new in Saint Nazaire?" Angeline nodded. "What brings you here?"
"I'm looking for work." Angeline was not happy with the questioning. Her wireless set seemed heavy in her hand, and she was afraid that someone would recognise it for what it was. She spoke again, feigning confidence. "Can you help me with either a job or a room?"
The man shook his head. "No. I don’t trust strangers. But you could try the bakery down the road."
With a swift word of thanks, Angeline left the shop. Turning right, she followed the smell of freshly baked bread until she stood outside the small baker’s shop. Although it was still early in the morning, there was already a queue of people waiting to buy bread, ration books in hand. Many gave her angry looks, as she ignored the line of people and made her way inside. The baker was behind the counter, flour up to his elbows, cutting the long loaves in two. He spoke without looking up from his work.
"Can I help you?"
"I hope so. I'm new in Saint Nazaire, and I'm looking for a job and somewhere to live."
The baker looked up and frowned. He was in his late fifties and his face was creased with lines which showed that once, in happier times, he had been more accustomed to smiling than of late. He looked his visitor up and down, noticing the drab clothes of the bespectacled figure. She looked like any other woman after three years of occupation.
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