‘He’s fine. Very cheerful and asking her to send photos of Tommy. The little chap won’t know him when he gets back and your Frank is so worried he won’t take to him.’
‘’Course he will. Frank’s his daddy. How could he not take to him?’
Lil pulled a face. ‘It’s going to be very difficult for them all to settle back into ordinary life once it’s all over, you know, Edie.’
‘Why? I should think they’d be only too glad to get back home to their families. I know I can’t wait to get ’em all back under my roof. Oh look, there’s Ursula. I wonder what she’s doing out this time of the day? You’d think she’d be at work, wouldn’t you?’
‘She’s freelance, isn’t she? I mean, she doesn’t actually work for anyone sitting in an office, does she? She’ll be out looking for a story, I’ve no doubt.’
‘Ursula, Ursula, duck,’ Edie raised her voice. The girl looked round, startled for a moment, but when she saw the two women she knew, her face relaxed into a smile.
‘You didn’t come round on New Year’s Eve. Are you all right?’
Ursula nodded. ‘I didn’t like to. You have all been so good to me even now that Shirley is away. It was kind of Mr and Mrs Charlton to invite me for Christmas Day and I feel so embarrassed because I have not enough money to buy you something for all your kindness.’
‘Now, don’t you worry about that, duck. We’re only too glad to have you with us. I don’t like to think of anyone being on their own, especially at Christmas. Have you heard from your own folks?’
Suddenly, Ursula’s smile faded and her face took on a closed expression. ‘No – I – I don’t hear from them. Letters are difficult to and from – Switzerland.’
‘Are they?’ Edie asked innocently. ‘I wonder why. I thought Switzerland was neutral.’
‘It is, but perhaps mail has to come through occupied areas – I don’t know. I just know I don’t hear from them.’
‘Then I’m sorry for you. There’s nothing worse than not hearing from your family – and I should know because I haven’t heard from Beth for weeks now. Still,’ she said, trying to put a brave face on it, ‘Lil’s heard from Irene and, through her, indirectly from Frank. Shirley writes every week, bless her –’
Lil hid her smile. Shirley was rising in her mother’s estimation every day because she wrote regularly and came home whenever she could.
Shirley was having a whale of a time. It seemed totally inappropriate to Lil that someone should be actually enjoying the war and yet Shirley was doing so. She had been drafted to become part of a mixed team on an anti-aircraft battery somewhere. They suspected she was in London, but Shirley was being very secretive.
‘I can’t tell you where I am, Mam,’ she’d put in her last letter. ‘“Careless Talk” and all that.’
‘– And I know from Irene that Reggie’s all right. Tell you what, Ursula,’ Edie added impetuously, ‘we’ll go to the pictures tonight the three of us – my treat – and afterwards you can come and have a bit of supper with me and Lil. How does that sound?’
‘Thank you – I’d like that. You’re very kind.’
They enjoyed the two films, but when the Pathé news came on, Lil felt Ursula, sitting between them, move uncomfortably. She glanced at the girl’s face, illuminated by the light from the screen. Ursula was absorbed in the news with a small smile on her mouth. Lil glanced back at the flickering scenes; she didn’t feel like smiling for the news was bleak. The Germans now occupied the whole of France, having taken over control of Southern France the previous November. The Vichy Government still existed but they had very little power now, if any. The euphoria of Montgomery’s victory at El Alamein at the end of October, when the church bells had rung out in celebration for the first time in over two years, already seemed a long time ago.
If only we could get some good news, Lil thought disconsolately, it would lift all our spirits and help us to carry on.
Twenty-Four
‘I’ve had another letter from Irene,’ Lil said coming in through Edie’s back door the morning after their trip to the cinema. She was holding the single sheet of paper in her hand. ‘It’s Frank . . .’
Edie turned frightened eyes towards her friend. Her heart felt as if it missed a beat and then began to pound. ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘Tell me, Lil.’
‘He’s been injured, but it’s not serious.’
‘Are you sure?’
Lil nodded. ‘He’s been hit in the leg.’
Reassured now that her son’s life was not in imminent danger, Edie asked, ‘Then he’s coming home?’
Lil shook her head sadly. ‘No, it’s not even bad enough for that. Not what they used to call in the last war “a Blighty wound”. No, he’s being treated out there.’
‘Huh!’ Her anger flaring suddenly, Edie banged the saucepan she was holding down on to the draining board with a thud that made Lil jump. ‘They might at least send him home, even if it’s only for a few weeks. I can look after him far better than any hospital out there.’
‘You would think they’d send them back, wouldn’t you, if only to give them more space for new casualties? But no, he’s got to stay out there.’
‘I bet Irene’s upset, isn’t she?’
Lil didn’t answer immediately but glanced down at the letter again. ‘I expect so,’ she murmured.
‘Can we send him a food parcel?’ Edie had recovered her composure and was now turning her mind to practical matters. ‘I’ve got some tinned fruit saved up from before the war. I could send that.’
Lil was amused by, but completely understood, Edie’s need to feed her injured son, to send him a tasty titbit. It was what mothers did, she thought.
It was three days before the awaited message regarding the pick up of the British airmen was received in France. Personal messages were broadcast by the BBC in London on Radio Londres; programmes operated by the Free French to their countrymen who were under Nazi occupation. And it was also a means of sending coded messages to the French Resistance. Although the Germans had forbidden the French people to listen to the service, many still did so in secret. Though the enemy were aware of this happening, they had no way of knowing which were genuine messages sent by separated families and which were the messages being passed to the Resistance. Beth wrote the time on a scrap of paper in onion juice and got out her bicycle from the shed. Whilst they waited impatiently for news, the three airmen had been fed and allowed out into the yard for fresh air and exercise whilst Raoul and Beth kept watch. How fortunate it was that Raoul’s farm had good views all around. Anyone approaching could be seen for some distance.
She cycled along the lane from the farm and through the village, waving to the one or two people she had met before; Monsieur Cavalier, the butcher, whom Raoul had warned her might be a collaborator, Monsieur Duval, the blacksmith, who most certainly was not. He hated the invaders of his country with a passion and made no secret of it. That in itself was dangerous and the circuit had reluctantly decided that they could not trust him, but only for the fact that he was so outspoken. And then she saw the local priest, Father Monnier, walking down the road, his long cassock flapping in the breeze. The clergyman was an enigma. He hid behind his calling and no one was sure on which side his loyalties lay. The resistance group wished they knew, for his church could have been very useful as a hiding place although Raoul had remarked sagely, ‘That’s the first place they’d look.’ And he had been proved right. On four occasions – including this most recent event – the church had been searched from crypt to the rafters. Beth nodded to each of them in turn but cycled on, taking the road out of the village towards the town four miles away.
Approaching the oak tree at the side of the road, she saw that a German road block had been set up close by. It hadn’t been there the last time she had come this way. She suspected that the Germans moved these frequently. Now, she would not be able to use the hollow in the tree, but would have to ride on to the town to find Rob.
Beth cycled up to the barrier across the road and braked. Her hands were trembling but she kept them firmly gripping the handlebars, the right-hand one of which held the important message. Although the writing was not visible to the naked eye, a piece of paper pushed into the hollow handlebar would still look suspicious. She could be arrested straightaway. Steeling herself not to glance down at it, she smiled at the soldier walking towards her. He was not one of those she’d seen before. Dressed in a short, tight schoolgirl dress and coat, hoping that it looked as if she was growing out of them, ankle socks and shoes that had seen better days, and with her hair in two plaits, she hoped she still looked the part of a young girl.
He spoke to her in German but, quite truthfully, Beth lifted her shoulders and shook her head in a gesture to say that she did not understand what he was saying. Impatiently, the soldier pretended to scribble on his hand, indicating that he wanted to see her papers. Producing them, she waited, holding her breath, whilst he scrutinized them. He glanced up and said something else in German. She caught the word which she knew meant ‘school’ but she didn’t want to give the impression that she understood anything he was saying so she frowned and shrugged again. Perhaps he was asking her why she was not in school. Irritated, he thrust her papers at her and waved her on, signalling to his companion on duty at the road block that he should raise the barrier and let her pass.
Once more, Beth leaned her bicycle against the wall of the bakery and glanced around her. There was no one near enough to see her quickly remove the piece of paper from the handlebar and then enter the shop. Monsieur Lafarge greeted her with a smile and gestured with his head towards the back room and the stairs to the upper floor. She climbed the dark, narrow staircase and knocked on a door on the landing, tapping out ‘L’ for Leonie in Morse code. The door was unlocked and opened at once. No one else knew their prearranged signal.
‘Trouble?’ Rob asked, for he knew that she would only visit him if the usual channels of communication to the circuit were blocked for some reason. Beth nodded and swiftly explained, ending, ‘The plane is coming in at two-thirty tomorrow morning. We have to get a message to Antoine somehow. It’s no good waiting to see if he comes to the farm tonight. He might not come, and besides, even if he did, it’d be too late to organize everything.’
‘Leave it with me,’ Rob said. ‘I’ll make sure he gets it.’
‘Do be careful. We’ll make sure the airmen are ready. They’ve been very patient, hiding above a smelly pigsty. Now, I’d better get back and I’ll take something from Monsieur’s bakery and put it in my bicycle basket. No doubt the Germans will still be there when I get back. Oh, can you destroy this for me?’ She handed him the slip of paper, which she had intended leaving in the hollow of the tree. Rob struck a match and burned it in the empty grate. As she left, he hugged her swiftly, murmuring, ‘Stay safe.’ The saying reminded her poignantly for a moment of the way she had always signed off her letters to her family. The memory brought a lump to her throat. She turned away quickly before he should see the tears in her eyes.
At last, Lil got her wish; there was some better news. On the very last day of January, the Germans surrendered in Stalingrad and over the next weeks the Russians began to push the invaders from their territory. And in Africa there were continued successes.
‘I reckon the tide’s turning, Edie,’ Lil said optimistically. ‘What does Archie think?’
‘I don’t know. We don’t talk about the war much when he’s home. He seems very preoccupied just now. I expect he’s worried about them all – just like I am.’
Lil said nothing but privately she was thinking that life at sea must be even tougher for Archie than normal. Hadn’t Edie thought of that? But it seemed her friend was so wrapped up in her concerns for her children that Archie was taking second place in her mind.
On Tuesday, 18 May, Lil rushed out of her back door, crashed open the door between the two backyards, threaded her way through Edie’s lines of washing and almost launched herself into Edie’s scullery. ‘Edie! Edie! Have you heard? Oh, isn’t it marvellous news?’
The scullery was empty, the living room too. The whole house was silent. Lil’s excitement at being able to bring some good news for a change was thwarted. Then she heard footsteps overhead. Edie must be upstairs making her bed. Lil went to the foot of the stairs. ‘Edie? Edie? You there?’
‘Yes, Lil, come up, duck. You can give me a hand with this bed, save me keep running round and back again to tuck it all in.’
Lil, chuckling softly, climbed the stairs and went into Edie’s bedroom. As she stood at one side of the bed and began to pull the sheets and blankets into place, she said again, ‘Have you heard the news?’
‘How could I, Lil? You know Archie’s away and I . . .’
‘. . . don’t listen to the news,’ they both said in chorus and Edie had the grace to smile. ‘So, what’s happened? Nothing awful, ’cos I can tell by your face.’
‘A squadron of Lancasters bombed the dams in the Ruhr and Eder valleys in Germany. I bet they went from Scampton. Anyway, it’s been a huge success, they say, and should halt the German war production for months. It could shorten the war, Edie, and maybe the Allies are already planning the invasion of Europe. Think of that – our lads landing back in France and all the other countries under enemy occupation.’
‘That is good news, Lil. I reckon when we’ve finished making this bed, we deserve a cup of tea to celebrate!’
Twenty-Five
In France, there didn’t seem to be any hope of liberation yet. Beth continued her chores on the farm and her clandestine work whenever she was needed. She rode around the countryside on her bicycle unhindered for the most part; it seemed that the sentries recognized the young girl and waved her through their road blocks often without even stopping her. If only they knew, she thought to herself as she carried yet another message received from London. Often she carried very dangerous messages about sabotage that London wanted carried out. If she thought it was safe, she would deliver this type of message to Rob in person; she was more afraid of being caught with an incriminating piece of paper than of being questioned as to why she was visiting the town. She always had a plausible excuse. She began, too, to visit other shops so that her visits to the baker were not so obvious. Sometimes, she even went into the town when there was no message to deliver or receive, just to divert any suspicion.
But Emile – and Rob agreed with him – would not allow her to go with them on sabotage missions. ‘You’re far too valuable as a wireless operator and courier, Leonie. We can’t afford to lose you.’ And besides, he wanted to add, I couldn’t bear to lose you. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t. Not in the middle of a war when both their lives were in constant danger. And so Beth had to be content to play the role assigned to her. And it was an important one, she knew. If she were caught, London would have to send out another wireless operator and it could take weeks for someone new to learn the ropes. In the meantime, the valuable work of the Fisherman circuit would be seriously disrupted if not destroyed.
The only real worry that Beth had at the moment was the frequent visits from Kurt and his men. But the weeks passed safely into months and spring turned into the summer of 1943. There were no more sudden raids searching for allied airmen and, ostensibly, the Germans’ visits were, of course, to collect food, but Kurt’s continuing presence worried Raoul. ‘He never came so often before you arrived here,’ he told Beth. ‘He just used to send his men.’
‘Oh dear,’ Beth said worriedly. ‘Ought I to leave?’
Raoul shook his head. ‘No, that would make him all the more suspicious.’
‘You think he’s suspicious?’
Raoul gave a low chuckle. ‘Actually, no, I don’t. He’s taken a liking to you. It’s obvious and that’s why he keeps coming here.’
Beth sighed. ‘I know. But what can I do? I’ve tried telling him I’m only fifteen – well, I’ll be sixteen at the end of this month, accordi
ng to the date we used as my birthdate – but it doesn’t seem to have done what I wanted; kept him away.’
Raoul lifted his big shoulders. ‘Better he comes to see you because he’s attracted to you than . . .’ He left the words unsaid. His glance searched her face. ‘You’re a very pretty girl. I can tell that Em – I mean, Antoine – likes you too. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?’
Beth blushed prettily and dropped her gaze. ‘Well, yes, at least – I – I hope so.’
Raoul’s face clouded and for a brief moment he looked unutterably sad. ‘When it’s all over – I hope . . .’ His voice cracked and he could say no more, but he covered her hand with his, his grasp warm and strong and comforting.
And so, each time the vehicles belonging to the German army came roaring into the farmyard, Beth felt a jolt of fear and not only now at the thought of being discovered as an agent. If she had any warning from the sound of their engines coming down the lane, she would try to be elsewhere other than in the yard. She would hurry upstairs in the house, or into the fields, running and running in the opposite direction to the little barn in the field to put distance between herself and Major Hartmann. But it was not always possible to be absent; it would become obvious if she did it too often.
So sometimes she stayed and faced him, smiling when he climbed out of the car and strode towards her. There was no denying, Beth thought objectively, that he was a very handsome man – if only he hadn’t been in the wrong uniform!
He stood before her, giving a polite little bow. ‘Fräu-lein! I am pleased to see you today. You’ve been missing the last two times I called.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ She smiled brightly at him. ‘How are you, Major?’
He stepped a little closer. ‘Kurt – please – when there is no one to hear.’
His men were busy loading supplies onto the lorry and Raoul was watching them morosely.
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