Hetty's Secret War

by Rosie Clarke

  He reflected wryly that he must surely be all kinds of a fool to have got himself into a mess like this. Yet he knew he’d had no alternative but to go on with his mission. Aborting it wasn’t an option; they’d lost too many operatives of late for it to be coincidence. Somehow the Germans had got hold of their codes and they had to be changed. But it was one hell of a night to be out on his own with no clear idea of what he was going to do if he couldn’t find the second rendezvous.

  No good worrying about things like that. He could put up with a little bit of cold. The main thing was that a hail of bullets hadn’t met him when he reached the ground. He checked his compass again, wishing for a moon so that he could see more than a few inches in front of his nose, then he laughed as he checked himself. A moon was the last thing he needed! If he could see so could the Germans!

  He paused to get his breath and look about him. He was coming to the edge of what looked like a thick wood. He’d been walking for ten minutes or so, maybe a bit more, and the pain in his ankle was becoming chronic. He wasn’t sure he could manage to go much further without a rest. And he thought that the mist might have started to clear a little, which meant he had to be more careful.

  Why the hell hadn’t Foxcub been here to meet him? Was it possible that this whole thing was a set-up?

  Was that the flash of a torch or a car’s headlights? He stiffened, suspecting a patrol. Now what did he do? Go on or change direction? He hesitated, uncertain what he’d seen through the trees. He had been heading for the wood, hoping to find a hut where he could shelter for a while, but now he was unsure.

  Damn, his ankle hurt! That bloody parachute. It was one of the things he hadn’t been good at. He’d never been an action man, no good at sports at school but top of his class when it came to anything that needed a good memory. The other boys had thought him a bit of an ass really, and he suspected his father might have too. But he’d made it this far and he was going to make it the rest of the way to the second rendezvous if it killed him – which it might if this pain in his ankle got any worse!

  He swore silently, leaning against a tree for support, and then went still, his heart thumping as he heard a voice nearby. Crackling sounds told him that there was more than one person. A German Patrol! No, they were French voices – but that could be a trick. Yet he would swear that one of them was a woman’s voice.

  He strained to hear what she was saying, then picked up the gist of it and smiled to himself. She was telling the others that she was sure she’d seen a parachute come down somewhere nearby. And she was very close to him now. He could see the little group of three men vaguely through the mist and a woman nearer, ahead of the others, just feet away from where he was hidden.

  ‘I know I saw something when the mist lifted for a moment,’ she said. ‘If it was a parachute it will be an English airman. He must have been in trouble to have bailed out like that in this weather. We’re going to search for as long as we can, Bernard. We can’t just leave him out here. You know there’s a patrol stationed in the village at the moment. If he walks into that he’ll be finished.’

  ‘But you could look all night, mademoiselle ’Etty…’

  ‘If we have to we will.’

  ‘Mademoiselle ’Etty, you can’t be sure you saw it,’ said another voice, younger this time.

  ‘Go home if you want, Louis. I’m going on.’

  Ben was stunned with disbelief. Had he heard right? Surely he was dreaming? Yet he was sure the men had called her Mademoiselle ’Etty and that rang bells. He’d heard that name before, when visiting his sister in Paris. ’Etty could mean Hetty! Ben felt the thrill of elation shoot through him. He had thought the woman’s voice strangely familiar and now he was almost certain. The woman was his sister! Yes, he was sure of it.

  He was going to have to take a chance. He stepped out from behind the tree, lifting his hands in the air in submission.

  ‘I surrender,’ he said in French. ‘Can you help me?’

  ‘Who are you?’ a suspicious male voice demanded.

  ‘Ask your female friend if she knows of Tarleton Towers… and if she still remembers Benedict…’

  ‘Ben – is that you?’ Hetty stepped towards him. At least the woman vaguely resembled his sister, but not as he’d ever seen her. She was dressed as a man, her hair hidden under a black beret, her face smeared with dirt. ‘My God, it is you! What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you know there’s a war on? You could have run into a German patrol just down the road!’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Hetty,’ Ben said and grinned at her. It seemed that the gods were looking after him after all! ‘I could ask what you’re doing wandering around dressed like that in the dead of night, but I won’t. I shall take it for granted that we both know what we’re doing. If you could give me a bit of a hand, please? I’ve dumped my chute in a ditch back there and I seem to have landed badly. My ankle hurts like hell.’

  ‘It serves you right for playing games and putting the wind up us,’ Hetty said but grinned at him. Her disbelief was fast turning to pleasure, though she couldn’t understand why he was here. ‘My friends will see to your debris. Can you manage to hobble if you put your arm around me – or do you need to be carried?’

  ‘It depends how far it is,’ Ben said truthfully.

  ‘We’ve got a truck in the woods. I’ll get you home and my men will follow us later, when they’ve checked to see if your arrival was noticed.’

  ‘Your men, Hetty?’ Ben asked, giving her a quizzical look as he put his arm about her shoulders. It was still painful to walk, but he wasn’t going to show it faced by his little sister toting a gun over her shoulder. My God, it was almost unreal! And he had to admit the greatest stroke of luck for him. He’d been wandering about like a fool rather than using his brains! Instead of Hetty and her friends, he could have bumped into the patrol she was talking about. ‘Do you know how to work that thing you’re carrying’

  ‘Of course – do you?’

  ‘Just about – but I haven’t actually used one in action.’

  ‘Still wet behind the ears, are you?’ Hetty smiled oddly. ‘Well, I suppose you are here for a reason. You can tell me when we get home, but keep quiet from now on just in case. We may not be the only ones to have spotted your chute.’

  Ben smiled but didn’t answer. He had begun to realise that Hetty’s little group might be the mavericks who had caused HQ all the headaches of the past few weeks. Knowing her temper from old, he didn’t fancy the job of telling her, but it would have to be done.

  *

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Hetty said angrily. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes snapping with temper. ‘I don’t know who sent you, Ben, but they’ve got their facts mixed. We’ve done a lot of good work these past months and we don’t need anyone else telling us how to do our job, thanks all the same.’

  ‘Don’t fly off the handle,’ Ben said. ‘No one is blaming you, but the plain truth is that you messed up an important raid last month. You and your men took out a small supply patrol the night before an important attack had been planned. It meant weeks of planning were aborted and the target HQ was after was diverted.’

  ‘And who the hell are HQ?’

  ‘If you were working with the proper contacts you would know,’ Ben said. ‘We know you’re trying to help, Hetty, but you could do more good if you worked in conjunction with another group who are based somewhere in this area.’

  ‘I told you, we prefer to be independent.’ Her eyes flashed angrily at him.

  Ben groaned inwardly. He was sitting in front of a warm fire with his ankle expertly bound by the man she called Bernard and drinking cognac and he was grateful for her help, but it seemed she was as stubborn as ever.

  ‘Perhaps you should listen to him, mademoiselle,’ Bernard said. ‘We are too few to tackle anything more than small patrols and they guard the line too heavily now for us to blow another train.’

  Hetty’s mouth set in a thin line. She didn’t answ
er back immediately, so Ben knew she was thinking it over.

  ‘I’ve got to make contact with someone tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘It’s important, Hetty. This ankle should be easier in the morning. If you could get me a part of the way there…’

  ‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘I’ll make contact with this person who says I’ve been interfering with his work and bring him back here to the chateau. You can tell him what you have to say then.’

  He looked at her dubiously. ‘I’m not sure he will trust you.’

  ‘I am not sure I should trust him,’ she retorted. She hated it that he was making light of her achievements, bringing her down to the level of a younger sister again. It was time he learned she was a woman and a confident, independent one at that, well able to think for herself and the group she ran. ‘If you weren’t my brother, I wouldn’t trust or believe you.’

  ‘Hetty…’ Ben sighed and then smiled at her. No point in antagonising her! He didn’t think his ankle was going to recover in time to make that second rendezvous. ‘You haven’t changed much.’

  ‘You have,’ she told him. ‘The old Ben would never have got involved in something like this. When I first realised it was you, I thought you must have come looking for me.’

  ‘You were the last person I expected to see. I’ve been hoping for news of you, but I’d given up expectation of anything – at least until you were ready to let us know. Annabel worries about you, Hetty.’

  ‘It’s difficult to get letters out,’ she said evasively. ‘I told her I was safe. I don’t see why you worry so much over little things.’

  ‘Safe?’ Ben’s brows rose. ‘I’m not sure that what you’re doing is exactly safe, Hetty. You spoke of a patrol earlier this evening – supposing they had been where I was?’

  ‘We would have shot them.’ She smiled as she saw the disbelief in his eyes. ‘We were just an advance party, Ben. There are more of us, believe me.’

  ‘I can’t believe you would shoot a man.’

  ‘Can’t you?’ Her mouth twisted in a strange smile. ‘You haven’t seen what they do, Ben. We blew a train up some months ago. In retaliation, they took six men and two women from a village ten miles from here and shot them. They were all innocent of any crime. None of them even knew why they were being punished. We had several new members from that and we attacked a patrol a week later and killed all of them – ten or twelve men, I’m not sure. We take a life for a life where we can.’

  Ben wrinkled his brow as he looked at her, trying to see beyond the mask she was determined to wear. ‘Where does it end? They probably shot some more innocent victims in revenge for that little episode.’

  Hetty shrugged. ‘They kill when they choose anyway. We do what we can for France.’

  ‘Then make the most of what you do by co-ordinating with another group. Make sure that every German you kill is killed for a purpose. The mission you aborted would have taken out an important person and perhaps have shortened the war.’

  ‘You’re just saying that to make me feel stupid!’

  ‘You know me better than that, Hetty. Don’t worry, we’ll get him or his replacement another time – but think about what I’m asking. Please?’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said and then went to the door as the younger man she’d called Louis came to give her a message. They whispered together for a moment and then she nodded and returned to the fireplace. ‘Louis says the Germans were searching for you. They’ve found your chute. You didn’t make much attempt to hide it.’

  ‘I couldn’t with my ankle the way it was.’ Ben frowned. ‘Will this make trouble for your people?’

  ‘They may search the villages nearby and eventually they may come here. We have somewhere we can hide you if it comes to it. You’d better get some sleep now. It isn’t very pleasant where you’re going to be hiding, so make the most of it while you can.’

  ‘I’m really sorry to have brought this on you,’ Ben said, feeling guilty. ‘I didn’t think they would find the chute that easily.’

  ‘If we hadn’t been looking for you they would have found you too,’ Hetty said. ‘We may be a group of bumbling amateurs as far as you and HQ are concerned, but we probably saved your life tonight.’

  ‘Yes, I think you probably did,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Hetty. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you again.’

  She stared at him for a moment longer and then the anger faded. ‘It’s good to see you too, Ben. And it’s not your fault that this other French operative claims we’ve messed up his plans. If he knew who we were, why the hell didn’t he make contact?’

  ‘I dare say he had his reasons,’ Ben said. ‘Anyway, you can ask him when you see him.’

  ‘So you agree to my going to the rendezvous in your place?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t see why not,’ Ben told her. ‘I can’t give you any messages to pass on, I’m afraid. Other than that, I need to see him urgently and I’m not very mobile at the moment.’

  ‘I’ll bring him here,’ she said. ‘He may not trust me, but if he wants to see you he hasn’t much choice.’

  Seven

  Hetty walked into the café carrying a basket over her arm. She was wearing a dark-coloured coat in a cheap material and short white socks with flat black shoes that had worn down at the heel. She had borrowed them from one of the maids at the chateau and the Comtesse had protested at her wearing them.

  ‘It doesn’t look like you, chérie,’ she told her and frowned. ‘I don’t like the idea of you doing this. It could be dangerous for all of us.’

  ‘It will not be dangerous,’ Hetty had promised. ‘I know where to go and what to say, and I shan’t get caught.’

  Bernard had driven her to the village. She and Ben had often visited when he came to visit her in Paris. Some ten miles or so distant from the beautiful little town of Louviers, where they had loved to stroll and admire the charming half-timbered houses, it had been on their route because they chose quiet country roads. Many people would not even have known it was there. In fact, she and Ben had discovered it by accident. They had sometimes stopped at an inn here for lunch, because the food was of the peasant variety and always good, as was the wine. Now she was here on a very different mission, one that held danger for them all.

  ‘If there is any sign of a patrol, come straight back,’ Bernard had warned her when she got out of their car. Like the Comtesse he had not wanted her to come.

  ‘There will be no Germans,’ she’d said confidently.

  The first thing Hetty had noticed was that the inn was closed and shuttered. Perhaps they had no trade now – or perhaps there was a more sinister reason behind the closure. A family had run it by themselves. The parents were elderly and their sons and daughters-in-law had taken over most of the work. She believed there were grandsons but had no idea how many or whether they had followed their parents into the business.

  She’d told Bernard there would be no Germans. In fact, she had passed two young soldiers near the closed inn, but they had been with French girls, clearly escaping from the routine of army life. One of them had given Hetty the eye only to have his arm pulled by his companion, who was clearly jealous. Hetty wondered how the girls could go with them. Didn’t they know what brutes they were? But it wasn’t for her to judge. Perhaps they had their reasons.

  As she had her reasons for being here. It was important to act naturally and not show fear. She walked into the café just as the church clock was striking the hour of eleven. Ben had been most particular about that and she’d waited outside the village until exactly the right moment.

  Two men were inside, sitting at different tables. Both were drinking coffee. One was older than the other, but she avoided looking at them as Ben had instructed.

  Walking up to the counter, she asked for black coffee, and then, when the small cup was put onto the counter, she hunted in her basket for her purse and gave a cry of dismay.

  ‘I have lost my purse,’ she said. ‘I am sorry
. I cannot pay you.’

  According to Ben, her contact would offer to pay. She waited for a moment, but apart from a glare from the assistant behind the bar, who whisked the cup away and put it under the counter, nothing happened.

  Hetty wondered what to do now. She hesitated, but neither of the men sitting at the tables had either looked her way or moved. It was obviously a mistake; Ben must have given her the wrong password, or it was a different café or something. Even as she hesitated, Hetty heard laughter and saw the two German soldiers and their companions enter the café. She shrugged her shoulders and went out.

  It was clearly useless to wait here and hope something happened. Ben must have given her the wrong password she thought again… but no, she recalled now. She had made the mistake. She was supposed to say money and she’d said purse instead – a man wouldn’t have a purse. How could she have been so stupid as to forget?

  She looked round, wondering if she should go back, but the Germans were in there and the bartender would say something if she tried it again. As she hesitated, a man came out of the café. It was the younger one. She waited instinctively as he came up to her.

  ‘I am sorry you lost your purse, mademoiselle,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps I could buy you a coffee?’

  ‘I should have said I had lost my money. He told me, but I forgot and said purse. I’m sorry.’

  The man’s forehead creased as he looked at her. She sensed hostility in him. ‘Who are you? I’ve seen you before. I’m certain of it.’

  ‘I used to visit here before the war,’ Hetty told him.

  ‘No, not here – somewhere else. Who told you to come here and give that password? I was expecting a man.’ He looked furious, as if it was her fault there had been a change of plan and she felt the resentment stir inside her.

  He took hold of her arm as two more soldiers walked towards them, smiling at her and steering her down the street towards the river. There were wooden seats on the grassy bank, but no one was sitting there.