Operation Kingfisher

by Hilary Green

  ‘It’s more than that. She never wore make-up or bothered about her hair. And it’s all for your benefit.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. It’s being with Jeanette at the hotel. She’s taught her all that.’

  ‘You can’t teach Chris anything she doesn’t want to know. Haven’t you noticed the way she is around you?’

  ‘Well, a little bit of harmless flirting. She’s trying out her wings.’

  ‘That may be all it is to you. Don’t you realize she’s in love with you?’

  ‘Oh, well. An adolescent crush.… Look, I’m fond of Chris. I’m fond of both of you. But that’s as far as it goes.’

  ‘I don’t think she sees it that way.’

  ‘You mean she’s expecting … something different? An affair?’

  ‘Something more permanent, I should imagine.’

  Cyrano ran his hand through his hair.

  ‘Oh, my God! What a fool I’ve been! What a blind, stupid fool! I never dreamed.… For God’s sake, I’m ten years older than she is, at least.’

  ‘I think she doesn’t see that as a problem.’

  He sighed deeply. ‘Poor kid! I would never have willingly hurt her. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I believe you. The question is, what do we do about it now? I don’t want to see my sister’s heart broken.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. Nor do I. She’s such a great kid! Brave and intelligent – and beautiful, too. I’ll have to explain, somehow.’

  ‘Let her down gently, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll do my best.’

  ‘You won’t tell her I’ve said anything, will you?’

  ‘No, no. I think … I think it will be better if she doesn’t realize that I’ve guessed how she feels. I’ll try to keep it as low key as possible … just give her the hint that, well, that we can never be more than friends.’

  ‘I think that sounds the best way.’

  Cyrano got up. ‘I’d better get back. Is there anything else you need?’

  ‘No, I’m OK. Thanks for the cigarettes.’

  Cyrano hesitated, looking down at Luke. ‘No hard feelings?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Luke offered his hand and Cyrano took it in a firm grasp.

  When Cyrano had gone, Luke fidgeted uncomfortably. The day was very hot and although he was naked under a single sheet, he could feel sweat pricking and itching in his armpits and his groin. He longed to get up and join the other men for a dip in the cool waters of the spring, back at the camp. The door opened to admit Adrienne carrying a bowl and a bundle of clean linen.

  ‘There, now your visitor has gone I expect you would like a nice wash. It’s very hot today.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I wish I could get up and have a bath.’

  ‘Pauvre petit! Well, we must do our best to make you comfortable.’

  She squeezed out a sponge and bathed his face with cool water. Close to, he could smell her perfume. She was not wearing make-up and her luxuriant blonde hair was captured in a pleat at the back of her head, but her skin was smooth and the lashes round her deep blue eyes were thick and darker than her hair. He took all this in as she leaned over him, and then his eyes moved to the hint of cleavage in the open V of her overall, and the outline of her breasts. She finished washing his face and moved down to his neck and then his shoulders. When she took hold of the sheet to pull it back he grabbed it.

  ‘No, please!’

  She looked at him with her head slightly on one side.

  ‘What are you worried about? You think I haven’t seen a naked man before?’

  ‘No, it’s just ….’ He floundered into silence.

  She smiled. ‘What have you got to be shy about? You are a beautiful young man. You will feel so much better afterwards.’

  She drew the sheet back to his feet and in spite of all his efforts at control, his penis reared up in response. She looked from it to his face and said softly, ‘I think you are an innocent. You have never made love to a woman. Am I right?’

  He nodded, too ashamed to speak.

  ‘Then we shall put that right at once.’ She leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, and at the same time her fingers undid the buttons of her overall, and he saw that beneath it she too, was naked. ‘Chéri,’ she murmured, ‘there is nothing for you to worry about. This is a once only event and there will be no consequences, no obligation, for either of us. Think of it as part of your education.’

  Afterwards she washed him all over and even changed the sheets on the bed. ‘So, roll over on your right side for me. That’s right. Now back the other way. There, isn’t that better?’

  ‘You’re very good at this,’ he said, then, blushing, ‘I mean the nursing bit.’

  ‘At all of it, I hope. No, don’t look like that. I know what you mean. When I was a girl, my mother was very ill. I learned then how to look after her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was a long time ago now.’

  He stretched. His body felt smooth and relaxed, as never before.

  ‘When you said this was a once only.…’

  ‘I meant it.’ She stroked his cheek with cool fingers. ‘Soon you will find a girl to love and she will love you. Do not tell her where you learned to make love so well. Let her think it is her beauty that has inspired you.’

  ‘I shall never forget this,’ he said huskily. ‘I shall always be grateful.’

  She bent and kissed him on the forehead. ‘And I shall remember, too, with great pleasure. Now, I must go. There is still work to do. But not such enjoyable work, I think.’

  She winked at him, picked up her bowl and the dirty linen and left.

  Next morning, Christine found a note in the tobacco tin: ‘Meet me this evening. Usual place.’

  She did her hair and make-up with special care, and sought out Adrienne, who had just come back from the hospital.

  ‘Could you possibly let me have a dab of that perfume you wear?’

  ‘Oh ho!’ the older woman exclaimed. ‘You have a date tonight. Who is he?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Not yet.’

  ‘Well, here. Help yourself. Not too much, now. You don’t want to scare the poor boy off. There, let me look at you. Very good! He is a lucky young man, whoever he is.’

  Christine arrived at the church earlier than the appointed time, but Cyrano was already there, playing the organ. The music was something she did not recognize, something slow and meditative. It took the edge off her mood of eager anticipation. The organ fell silent and a nervous quiver ran through her body. A moment later he was sitting beside her.

  ‘Hello. How are you this evening?’

  ‘OK. You?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘How are things up at the camp?’

  ‘Busy. The Boche are getting more active. They attacked the Maquis Socrate two days ago and he and his men had to beat a quick retreat and find a new base. Then yesterday, four of our lads were out on a foraging expedition and they ran slap into a German ambush and had to shoot their way out. Fortunately, I think the Boche were just as surprised as they were and they got away with only minor wounds. What’s the mood like in the town?’

  ‘A bit subdued. People are glad that the farmers have their animals back, but they are beginning to talk about reprisals.’

  ‘I’m afraid that will come. But if we worried about that, we’d have to give up and go home. But there’s good news from the real war. Monty’s forces have landed in Italy and the Italians have asked for an armistice.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’

  ‘Yes, it should shorten the war by months. Our armies can march straight through Italy and attack the Germans from the south – what Churchill calls “the soft underbelly” of Europe. Oh, and another thing. You remember I told you, none of those gunboats you told us about ever reached the Med? The RAF finished them off on the Saône. Apparently, Winnie sent his personal congratulations.’

  ‘That’s fantastic news!’ She lo
oked at him and felt a glow of pride. Then a new thought dimmed it. ‘Do you think the war might all be over by Christmas?’

  ‘I hesitate to pin too many hopes on that. We seem to have heard it all before. But you never know. The Russians are making headway in the north. Maybe Hitler will see the game’s up and sue for peace.’

  She hesitated. ‘It’s an awful thing to say, but part of me hopes he won’t. I don’t want it to be all over before I have a chance to join in.’

  ‘You’ve done your bit, far more than most other girls. What you need, what we all need now, is a chance to get back to our normal lives. Oh, speaking of that, there’s something I want to show you.’ He reached into a pocket and drew out an envelope. ‘We had another parachutage – well, you know about that because you recced the location for us. There were letters from home, as usual. But there has been so much going on I nearly forgot about these.’ He paused. ‘We’re not supposed to tell anyone about our personal lives, back home. But I want to show you these.’

  He took out two photographs and handed them to her. In the first, she saw a pretty, fair-haired woman with a small girl on her knee; in the second picture the child was alone, squinting at the camera and waving. Christine turned the photographs over, but there was nothing written on the back.

  ‘My wife, Susan,’ he said. ‘And that’s our daughter, Caroline. She was four last month.’

  For a moment, Christine was unable to speak. She cleared her throat but her voice came out as a whisper. ‘I didn’t know you were married.’

  ‘No. As I said, we’re not supposed to talk about our private lives. The idea is, we should be so immersed in our cover story that we almost become different people; but it doesn’t work like that. Not for me, anyway.’

  ‘You miss them?’

  ‘Very much. Caroline was only three when I last saw her, and they change so quickly at that age.’

  She handed the pictures back and muttered gruffly, ‘Thanks. Thanks for showing me.’

  ‘I wanted you to know,’ he said quietly.

  For a moment neither of them spoke. Then he reached over and took her hand. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes, ’course. Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you and Luke should be thinking about going on with your journey, if it can be managed. You’ve both done excellent work here but you could be so much more useful back in England. I don’t believe there is much chance of the war being over quickly and there is a lot you could do to help the war effort – both of you.’

  ‘In a munitions factory,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘No. You haven’t forgotten that address I gave you, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Believe me, you would be welcomed with open arms there. I’ll make sure they know what you’ve done out here. And you would get so much out of it, too. New skills to learn, new people to meet. There’s a big, exciting world out there, Chris, full of new experiences and new challenges. You would have such a lot to look forward to.’

  She looked at him for a moment, a look that pierced his heart; then she stood up.

  ‘I’d better get back. It’ll be curfew soon.’

  He walked to the door with her.

  ‘Ride carefully. You know I worry about you. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.’

  She lowered her head and pulled the heavy door open.

  ‘’Night, Cyrano.’

  He would have been horrified if he could have watched her riding back to the hotel. Blinded by unshed tears, she raced through the darkening lanes, heedless of traffic or possible German checkpoints. Reaching the hotel unscathed, she locked herself in her room and when Jeanette called her to start work in the dining room, she shouted back that she was unwell and could not come.

  Three days later the newly installed telephone rang in the command hut at the Maquis Xavier. Cyrano, who was busy encoding a message, answered it.

  ‘It’s me, Pierre. I’ve got a message for those two youngsters I sent up to you, back in April.’

  Chapter 22

  Christine continued to check the messages in the tobacco tin in the ruined cottage and leave the dated slip of paper that assured Cyrano she was still safe. She knew that failure to do so would precipitate a chain of events whose outcome she could not predict.

  There were no missions for her, and she spent her days aimlessly cycling round the lanes. Twice she was stopped by German patrols and when asked where she was going she shrugged and muttered, ‘Just out for a ride,’ and they let her go. Then one morning there was a note in the tobacco tin:

  ‘Time to come home. Pack your things. I’ll pick you up at twelve.’

  She went back to the hotel in a mutinous mood. She felt that she was being removed from her post, that she had been judged too immature, too emotional for the job. It seemed like the ultimate failure. When she told Mme Bolu and Jeanette that she was leaving, they wanted to know why, and she could give them no explanation.

  Jeanette hugged her. ‘I’ll miss you so much! It’s been like having a sister.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, too,’ she replied and realized to her surprise that she meant it.

  ‘Perhaps it is only temporary,’ Madame said. ‘You will be welcome to come back, at any time.’

  At twelve she was waiting, with her few belongings packed into the old rucksack. Cyrano drove up and tied her bicycle onto the roof of the old Citroën. She thanked Madame for her hospitality, kissed Jeanette and got into the car.

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ Cyrano said. ‘You’re not in trouble or anything. It’s good news.’

  At the camp she found Luke waiting. His arm was in a sling and there was still the faint remains of bruising round his eyes, but otherwise he looked his old self. He put his good arm round her and gave her a hug.

  ‘How are you, Sis?’

  ‘I’m OK. You look better.’

  ‘Yes, good as new – well, almost.’ He studied her face and noted that it was bare of make-up and her hair was dragged back into a plait.

  ‘How long have you been out of hospital?’

  ‘Only since yesterday. Gregoire wants to see us for some reason. Come on, we’d better not keep him waiting.’

  Gregoire was sitting behind the table in the command hut with Xavier. Cyrano followed them in, and took his place beside the others.

  ‘Sit down, both of you,’ Gregoire said. ‘Don’t look so worried. You’re not in trouble. There’s been a development. We had a message via Pierre at the pharmacy from your friend Rollo.’

  ‘Rollo!’ Luke said. ‘Rollo was in Corbigny?’

  ‘No, I think it was a written note, delivered by a third party. But this is the gist of it. The Madeleine – that’s his father’s boat, isn’t it? – is en route to Longvie. That’s just east of Dijon. There’s a big airfield there, so I guess they are delivering supplies of some sort. If you can meet them there, they think they may be able to get you to Montbéliard.’ He paused and looked from one to the other. ‘It’s risky. There is bound to be tight security around the airfield, but we think you should take the opportunity while it’s offered. You have both become very valuable members of the Maquis over the last few months and we shall be sorry to lose you, but I don’t have the right to keep you here. Your parents expect you to go back to England and it’s right that we should do all we can to make that possible. Do you agree?’

  Luke looked at his sister. Her face was pale and set and her eyes were fixed on the ground. He thought he had never seen her so downcast and it hurt him to know that he was in part responsible. Cyrano had not told him what had passed between them, except to say ‘I think Christine understands the situation now.’ It had to be done, he told himself, and now it was up to him to try to heal the wound. Left to himself, he would have been happy to throw in his lot with the Maquis for the duration of the war, but he knew that would be irresponsible.

  ‘I think Gregoire’s right, Chris,’ he said. ‘We should go.’

  She lifted her
eyes and shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘How do we get to Longvie?’ he asked. ‘Do we cycle?’

  ‘I think we can do better for you than that, after all you’ve done,’ Gregoire said. ‘I’ve had a word with some of my contacts in the other Maquis and they’ve agreed to help out. Be ready tomorrow morning and you should be there by the evening.’

  At first light, Luke shouldered his rucksack and let himself out of the log cabin that served as dormitory for himself and half a dozen men of the Maquis. The morning was damp, with low cloud hanging in the tops of the trees, and as he walked across the clearing, something crunched under his boot. Looking down, he saw it was a freshly fallen sweet chestnut, the prickly green case broken open to show the nut inside. He stooped and picked it up as a kind of talisman.

  Cyrano joined him, looking strained, and soon the other members of the Maquis tumbled out of their huts and came to say goodbye. Fat Jacques brought him a mug of coffee and pressed a loaf of bread and some goat’s cheese into his hand.

  ‘Where’s Christine?’ Cyrano asked.

  ‘Here she comes,’ Luke said, seeing her approaching from the direction of the spring. She had discarded her skirt and was wearing a pair of corduroy trousers that must have been borrowed from one of the smaller men. Even so, she had had to cinch them in with a belt and turn up the bottoms. The baggy sweater she had been given by Marie at the beginning of their journey completed the outfit. Luke’s heart gave a lurch at the sight of her, remembering the pretty, smiling girl who had come to visit him in hospital.

  Cyrano said, ‘Give us a few minutes, Luke.’ He touched Christine on the arm and drew her aside a short distance.

  They looked at each other.

  He said quietly, ‘Christine, I think I have hurt you. I didn’t mean to and I’m very, very sorry. I hope you know I never intended anything of the sort.’

  She looked into his eyes. ‘I know. I was being silly. I see that now. You mustn’t blame yourself.’

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’m very, very fond of you. You know that. But I love you like a sister, like Luke does. I hope, when the war is over, if … if I’m still around … that we can be friends.’