‘Out you go, Pacha,’ Madame Poirier said and opened the front door briefly to let the cat out.
Sabine saw Madame hesitate before she closed the door again, her eyes dart across the courtyard outside. If they were caught together like this, they would all be arrested without question.
The Germans have outlawed all public assemblies. A gathering of three or more people is forbidden.
The candle flame flickered as Madame shut the door and locked it. When had she last sat out on the stone patio at the front of her house? A glass of wine, a book, Pacha sunning himself at her feet. Not since the invasion probably.
Maybe in peacetime she’d be able to do it again. Sit outside her own house without fear of footsteps.
A few of the résistants had met at Alex’s hut earlier, listened out for the final signal.
Rachel Tremblay, the bicycle is unlocked.
They ate bread and cheese, had a glass of sherry as they waited for it to get dark.
‘Where is Sebastian?’ Alex took Sabine aside, ‘he’s meant to be here.’
‘Maybe he’s with the others, or meeting us at the rendezvous point instead?’
‘He knows better than to change plans at the last minute.’
‘Isn’t Natalie supposed to be with him? Do you think they’re okay?’
‘They better be, it’s too late to call it off now. Right, everyone, on your feet, La Marseillaise, then we leave.’
‘You do realise we’ll probably all be heard and arrested before we even leave this hut,’ said Sabine.
‘Sing, you are a blackbird after all.’
‘Sabine, did you send the sked to London?’ asked Alex.
‘Oui, mais I had to cut off before the end. They should have got enough to understand though.’
‘Problème?’
‘Almost, I was in the cellar of that old farmhouse, you know the one that stinks of cheese…’
‘We don’t care about the smell, were you found out?’ interrupted Alex.
‘I asked Monsieur Simon to give me a signal if anyone came snooping. I was almost finished the sked when I heard him whistling our warning tune. He said he’d seen one of those detection vans drive past. I wasn’t on long enough for them to pick me up properly but I can’t use that cellar again. My wireless is still there though, I left it behind in case I was stopped.’
Sabine was surprised at the confidence in her voice as she told them what had happened. So matter of fact.
She felt a rush knowing that it was over, she had survived and had a tale to keep the men interested.
Sabine was happy to leave the confines of the hut. Away from the sweat and the nerves, the smells of men who lived on a diet based mainly of swede and rutabaga.
Cattle feed, before the war broke out.
Sabine had to admit that Alex was good. He led them to the field without stopping to switch on a torch or check the compass. Sabine still relied on Michelin maps.
Some of the men had argued for Alex to stay at home.
You are a wanted man, if we are found with you we’re all dead men.
It’s not safe for you to come, you must stay in hiding. You’re jeopardising everything.
Sabine had stuck up for him, even though he’d ignored her pleas to leave France.
‘It doesn’t matter whether Alex is seen or not. If any of us are caught after curfew then we’re dead men. And women, I might add. He’s our leader, we need him there.’
She’d noticed the look of surprise on his face. She meant it though. They were better with him than without him. She trusted her gut reaction and it told her that Alex must lead the drop.
Sand Dune 9
Drop scheduled for 22.03.44 at O1.30
43.675818 2.252197
Number of containers:11
Sabine jumped to her feet at the rustle of bushes, the footsteps as someone approached.
Conversation stopped.
She reached for her pistol, ready to shoot, or run, or both. Whatever was required. She didn’t fancy trying to escape in the dark, if they all scattered now it would be a shambles.
She heard Alex whistle, the signal they all knew.
Nothing.
He whistled again.
Nothing.
Someone still approached them, she lifted the revolver, held it out in front of her. Alex leant in towards Sabine, whispered.
‘One more chance then I shoot and we make a break for it.’
Sabine nodded then whispered ‘Oui’ in reply, forgetting that he couldn’t see her in the dark.
He whistled.
Sabine lowered her revolver. Someone had whistled back, given the coded reply.
She felt her legs give way beneath her, warm and aching.
‘Sorry, c’est moi, Sebastian.’
‘I almost shot you! One more second and I would have.’
‘Je suis désolé, put the gun down. It’s more likely to go off in your face than hit the target.’
‘Where have you been? You’re late. Where’s Natalie?’
‘Calm down, she’s not coming.’
‘What’s going on, Sebastian?’
‘I went to get her, we had an argument, that’s all.’
‘A lover’s tiff,’ Sabine heard one of the men whisper.
‘It’s not a laughing matter,’ said Alex. ‘Are we in danger? Sebastian, I’m talking to you, sommes-nous en danger?’
‘Non, non, of course not.’
‘Amour de jeunesse,’ someone said.
‘Not satisfying her needs, are we Sebastian? Tell her to come and see me, she needs a man, pas un petit garçon.’
‘Fermes-la,’ Sebastian replied.
‘Enough,’ hissed Alex. ‘Do you want to draw attention to us? It’s nearly time and we’re one man down. Positions. Now!’
‘Une femme.’
‘Not now, Sabine.’
She hadn’t felt so brave earlier. God, when she’d heard Monsieur Simon whistling that tune.
La Madelon
Her finger stopped tapping instantly. Even though her hands shook, she took off her headphones, packed the wireless away into the suitcase and hid it behind one of the wicker crates of cheese that had been left to ripen.
Her suitcase would stink of cheese now.
Monsieur Simon let her out the back door and she cycled through the woods back to Madame’s, had a fit of nervous giggling on the way. Laughed so much, she hit a tree stump, fell off her bike. Then she lay on the ground laughing even more.
All that manoeuvre training: how to traverse a room without touching the floor, how to cross a pool of sulphuric acid. She couldn’t even navigate her bicycle around a tree stump.
God, I’m hysterical, she thought. My first close encounter and I’ve had a nervous breakdown. Her stomach ached by the time she managed to compose herself and get back on her bicycle.
Madame Poirier met her at the gate, pulled leaves and twigs from her hair and cardigan.
‘Have you been rolling in the hay with Alex?’
That set Sabine off again.
PM FC DO OA PF MU BJ BD JU PM FD BT AR UA FG
‘If only you knew, Madame, if only you knew.’
Just thinking about it now, back in the safety of Madame’s house, Sabine felt like she was about to lose control again. She bit the inside of her mouth, nipped her thigh under the table. Alex would send her straight back if he knew how she’d behaved.
Sabine took her place in the field. The stars were so clear out here. All around her, sinking down on either side, as if she was locked inside a snow globe.
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
She’d never seen so many stars before, it made her dizzy and she had to look down at her feet.
She could hear the Lysander approaching, then she heard Alex’s whistle.
She switched on her bicycle lamp, saw the others lighting torches around her, remembered her training. The model
of a field, split up into grids with pins and string.
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
* * * *
Drop here!
Sabine held the light steady, looked up as the plane came closer, closer. Saw it drop the containers, parachutes open, as they fell to earth.
The lights in the field began to sway, dissipate, as people moved towards the falling packages.
She counted the parachutes, shining in the night sky. They whistled as they fell.
Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.
There was a crash to the right of her.
‘Merde,’ she heard someone say, ‘that one’s ruined, damn parachute.’
The Lysander continued overheard, back home to Britain. Sabine listened to the hum of the engines diminish. She blew it a kiss.
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
It made her homesick to think of it leaving her behind.
She missed Mama, Father.
Cath.
Were they being sent the carefully timed letters, written months in advance?
Did they believe what she’d written?
Hello from London, not much has changed in the last week or so. Still driving the top brass around.
Coffee dripped from the spout of the pot, staining the white tablecloth.
‘I’m sorry it tastes so bad,’ said Madame Poirier, ‘it was the best I could do. I’ve had to use that ground coffee five times now, it’s more like coloured water.’
‘Maybe Merle could make a request in her next sked. Send more coffee vite vite,’ said Sebastian.
TD JF GT DF BT DZ IF IY EO IY EO DY
‘They have less coffee than we do, besides it’s tea I miss,’ said Sabine.
‘Tea! You have been living in Britain too long, mademoiselle.’
Sabine smiled, sipped at her coffee, tried not to let it show on her face just how rotten it tasted. She would have preferred plain old hot water to this brown concoction, but Madame Poirier did her best with the rations she had.
‘Right, lights off, containers on the transport, get rid of the parachutes.’
There was something in Alex’s voice. Something that told her not to waste time. She felt it herself – tonight didn’t feel right.
Madame Poirier had asked Sabine to bring her home the parachutes before they were spirited away to be sold, or made into shirts for the résistants. Sabine would have to disappoint her.
Keep your wits about you and learn to trust your gut. Usually the first hunch you have about a situation will be the right one. If something, no matter how trivial, feels wrong then it probably means that you’re in danger.
She flicked off the light, put it in her pocket, ran over to the container closest to her. She took one end of the vertical cylinder while Sebastian took the other.
‘Do you think Alex is mad at me?’ Sebastian asked as he walked backwards towards the transport.
‘Should he be?’ She tried to catch the look on his face but it was too dark. She stumbled, lost her grip on the container.
‘Careful,’ said Sebastian.
‘You need to be careful too.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We need to get the field cleared.’
‘Sabine.’
Alex stood behind them.
‘Less talk, more work.’
They dumped the container and she ran back into the field to help with another.
Madame opened a tin of peaches, tipped them into a bowl then siphoned the syrupy juice off into a glass. She handed the glass to Sabine.
‘Non, you have it Madame.’
‘I’ll have it,’ said Sebastian, holding out his hand.
‘Sabine is recovering from a terrible illness,’ Madame winked. ‘Besides, you boys have her running all over France on your errands.’
Sabine pushed her coffee away, put the glass of juice to her lips. It was warm and sticky, sweet against her tongue. She finished it in two gulps, then wished she’d savoured it in smaller sips, made it last longer.
‘I’ve sent Sebastian with the containers, changed the plan though, told him to go to Monsieur Thorozan’s barn,’ Alex took Sabine to one side.
‘D’accord, because of Natalie?’
‘Oui, I’m going to see her – something doesn’t add up.’
‘I agree.’
‘I’m worried about her motives.’
‘He’s a good looking boy…’
‘Yes, but she’s an even better looking girl.’
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
‘You don’t think she would betray us though?’
‘That’s what I’m going to find out.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I need you safe, just in case something is wrong. No point both of us getting caught.’
‘Then I’ll go, she might be more likely to speak to me, and, well… if you get caught… they know you. I can bluff my way out.’
‘Non, I’m going, I won’t argue about this.’
Alex sat in the corner of the room in an armchair, staring at a small radio balanced on his knee.
Sabine could hear the faint broadcast he listened to through the crackled reception.
ICI LONDRES
‘Ssshh, fermez-la.’ Alex held up a hand and the room went quiet.
ET VOICI QUELQUES MESSAGES PERSONNELS.
TP TM TP EP UI BT EF DO OS SP TD
This was the moment of truth. Had her skeds been heard by London? Had she made sense?
Sabine lit her bicycle lamp briefly, got her bearings and began the walk back to Madame’s. Alex was right to send the containers to a different hiding place. Natalie knew too much about tonight. He was right about Sebastian too. He was young and romantic. Reckless.
It didn’t matter if they were betrayed on purpose or by an accidental slip of the tongue. The outcome would still be the same.
Sabine pushed her way through a hedge, scratched her hand on some brambles. She was quicker following the road home, but she wanted to be out of sight. It was safer to trample along the verge. Her shoes and the hem of her skirt were covered in mud – if she was caught she’d have to come up with something good to explain the state of her clothes. Her back ached and she had blisters on the heels of her feet.
Natalie.
Was she really a traitor? That sweet girl who smelt of vanilla and whispered in Sabine’s ear as she sat outside the café?
A shiver ran down Sabine’s back as she remembered the way Natalie’s breath had tickled her ear, her hair brushing against her face.
- .... . / -.- .. ... ... / -... ..- .-. -. - / .- --. .- .. -. ... - / .... . .-. / -.-. --- .-.. -.. / ... -.- .. -.
Une querelle d’amoureux.
That day at the café, had she missed anything?
The German soldiers sitting on the opposite side of the square, talking about Natalie. What had they said? If only Sabine’s German was better, she might have picked something up.
Should she have told Alex there were German soldiers sniffing around?
Non.
Knowing Alex, he’d have suggested Natalie seduce them for secrets then kill them while they slept.
Maybe one of them got fed up looking, wanted more? Flattered her into bed? The German soldiers could offer many things that the men left in France couldn’t.
A young girl, surrounded by old men, young boys, injured résistants. Perhaps the attentions of a man in uniform was too much to resist?
Did it mean she would talk?
Perhaps.
If she fell in love.
PM FC DO OA PF MU BJ BD JU PM FD BT AR UA FG
ANNIE LE BLANC, THE CANDLE IS LIT.
Sabine felt something tickle her ankles, looked under the
table to see Pacha licking her leg.
‘Come on,’ she whispered under the table and patted her lap, ‘up, lèves-toi.’
THE BIRTHDAY CAKE WAS STALE.
Pacha stretched, pulled back on his front paws, then sprung up into Sabine’s lap. He settled himself there, purred while Sabine stroked his head and scratched him behind the ears.
THE COW HAS ESCAPED FROM THE NORTH FIELD.
Pacha was warm, she could feel him breathing, his heart beating against the inside of her thigh.
RACHEL TREMBLAY, THE BICYCLE IS CHAINED TO THE GATE.
Sabine stopped petting Pacha, he leapt from her lap and slunk away under the table.
Sabine stumbled over tufts of overgrown grass at the side of the road. Eyes glowed up ahead, then vanished as the rabbits bolted into hiding.
The drop had gone to plan. No ambush. It would have been a perfect opportunity to get them all together.
Unless of course.
They were waiting to get them on their own.
Oh God, she hoped Alex was wrong.
In a group a fight would break out, people would scatter, escape.
If they were targeted individually…
What if they were at home now, waiting for her, tired, unaware, on her own?
Do not return to your quarters if you believe you are in danger.
But she had to.
Madame Poirier.
Sabine began to run.
Drop report from P/O Douglas Carter –
Sand Dune 9
43.675818 2.252197
11 containers successfully dropped.
Encountered flak leaving France.
Returned at 04.32
Sabine felt the panic rise. She slipped and stumbled as she ran, falling onto her knees at one point. She shouldn’t return to Madame’s, should stay away, but she couldn’t leave Madame in danger.
She hunkered down behind the garden wall. The shutters were closed, the house in darkness.
She jumped the wall, revolver ready, crept round the edge of the courtyard, keeping low, in the shadows.
Round to her bedroom window. She always left it unlatched behind the shutters, able to get in or out quickly if required.
Think ahead. Have an escape route planned, just in case you need to make a quick getaway.
She pushed the window open, hoisted herself up and into her bedroom.
Swim Until You Can't See Land Page 19