Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  Spitz was holding court, swilling claret, a scantily-clad girl balancing drunkenly on his knee. He was an incredibly unattractive man, with small piggy eyes and a hooked nose. He was balding but in an effort to hide this, had combed a long, greasy piece of hair across his shiny scalp. His companion had managed to dislodge it as she caressed him, so it now hung crookedly down over his ear. He was well below average height and was rail-thin. When he had shaken her hand earlier, it had felt clammy and limp and she’d had to suppress a shudder. Watching him now, she kept thinking of the weasel in Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows, a book that Daddy used to read to her and James when they were small.

  Dieter was beside her; he kept squeezing her hand under the table, catching her eye as if to say how much he despised this drunken company and wished to be alone with her.

  ‘I think we should invite Spitz back for a nightcap,’ she murmured in his ear.

  He looked horrified, whispering, ‘God no. Bad enough we have to put up with him here. I’ve had him all day in the office going over every single file, I can’t take another second of him.’

  Around them, the company burst into a lusty chorus of ‘Lili Marlene’, and Juliet had to nudge her German lover to remind him to take part. It would be no good to her if Dieter displeased Spitz.

  Later, she drew him out onto the balcony and offered him a cigarette. The warm August breeze lifted her beautifully coiffed hair. He wound a stray tendril around his finger. Slipping her arm around his waist, she cuddled up to him.

  ‘If we have him back for a drink, I’ll play the piano and sing and flirt a little with him – look how he is with that trollop on his knee. He loves female attention. If I can charm him, then he’s going to give you a much more favourable report, don’t you think?’

  Dieter sighed as he played with her hair. He spoke so quietly she had to strain to hear. ‘That’s so kind of you, darling, I really appreciate you trying, but he won’t be saying anything good about me or the way I run things here. No, it’s the Russian front for me. Apparently, I have the wrong friends in Berlin and so, I’m guilty by association.’ He reached around her to crush out his cigarette on the railing. He murmured in her ear, ‘Spitz keeps telling me how Klaus Barbie is doing such an excellent job in Lyon and asked why did I not adopt his techniques, as they were obviously more effective. I tried to explain that by keeping investigations more targeted, and not being seen by the local population as a butcher like Barbie, that I was stemming the flow of recruits into the Resistance. But he wasn’t interested.’ He sighed. ‘How can I leave you, my darling Marie-Louise? I love you so much, more than you can ever know. I want to tell you now, no matter what happens to me, I will come back and find you when all this madness is over – if you’ll wait for me?’

  He looked so sad she wanted to hold him and promise to wait for him. Instead she said, ‘Look Dieter, you of all people shouldn’t underestimate my powers of persuasion. I don’t want you going to Russia, or you might never come back to me. Let me at least try. All it will cost is a little whiskey and half an hour of our time. Surely it’s worth that. If he leaves with the same opinion of you, then we’ve lost nothing. He’s a fool, and in the early days of this war, no one like him would be in such a high position. Let’s see if he can’t be convinced to spare you.’

  He smiled at her and wrapped her in his arms.

  ‘All right, if you think so, but he is not to put a hand on you. I’ll kill him myself if he does, the lecherous pig. If he suggests anything, he’ll be wishing he was freezing his ass off on the Eastern Front.’

  She buried her face in his neck to smell the familiar musky scent. Perhaps the fate that awaited him was preferable to what his superiors had in mind for him. The thought gave her a little comfort.

  Spitz accepted her invitation to join them for something better than the rough red wine to which the party was now reduced. Juliet promised him a twenty-five-year-old single malt Scotch that Dieter had acquired months ago, and was flirty and amorous in her invitation. The Abwehr officer’s companion of earlier was slumped on a chair, makeup smeared all over her face, clearly of no further use. Though not completely intoxicated, Spitz was too drunk to suspect anything untoward in Juliet’s motives. He was clearly arrogant and deluded enough to think she might be attracted to him. He leered at her in the car as they sped across the city to their apartment.

  They greeted the soldier on the door as Spitz stumbled up the steps. Entering the large foyer of the apartment, she asked Dieter to take him into the lounge, pour him a whiskey and show him the view, while she slipped into something more comfortable. Turning right into the bathroom, she locked the door. Standing on the toilet she reached up into the cistern, extracting the gun she had placed there earlier. She fitted the silencer while she ran the tap to drown out any noise.

  Heart thumping, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. ‘This is not you; this is not your life. Your life is in Dunderrig with Daddy and Solange and James and the Cantys and hopefully with Ewan. None of this is who you are; it’s just what has to be done so we can all live in peace. Goodbye Marie-Louise.’

  She was Juliet Buckley from Dunderrig, and she was going home.

  As she entered the lounge, both Dieter and Spitz were gazing out of the large bay windows overlooking the city. She shot Spitz first. The muffled cough from the silenced pistol made Dieter turn. Registering the shock on his face, she aimed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet penetrated his skull directly between his eyes. Death was instant.

  THE LYSANDER WAS WAITING on the makeshift runway, its huge engine ticking over. The journey through the empty streets of Poitiers had gone without a hitch, though it had seemed to take hours. She didn’t communicate with the driver and just lay under the blanket as Lise instructed. There was no reason for the authorities to suspect anything until neither Dieter nor Spitz turned up for work in the morning.

  She felt the car bump over rough ground and realised they must have reached the landing field. Taking off the blanket, she saw the torches shining out in the darkness. Her driver got out and opened the door. Looking at him for the first time, she was surprised to see a face she recognised.

  ‘I normally don’t do this, but I just wanted to make sure you were gone,’ Hercule smiled, something she’d never seen him do before. ‘Seriously, well done. You have shown remarkable bravery. You should be very proud of yourself.’ He thrust forward a calloused hand and shook hers briefly but firmly. Juliet was nonplussed. Hercule had never been anything but horrible to her, yet here he was risking his own safety to drive her to the plane.

  ‘Thank you, Hercule.’ Not sure what else to say, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Keep safe.’

  She sprinted towards the plane. Every moment on the ground was dangerous, and she knew the pilot would be anxious to take off. She was hoisted up by another crew member, and within seconds, they were airborne.

  The pilot shouted at her over the din of the engines. ‘Nice work! Glad we could get you out without too much drama!’ She didn’t know what to say in reply – she hadn’t heard English in so long, and it felt strange to be allowed to speak it now. The pilot turned to smile at her.

  This time, she found her voice. ‘Ewan?’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Juliet. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I’ve seen your photograph. I’m Dougie McCrae, and I believe you know my brother?’

  Chapter 39

  Juliet felt sick. She decided to walk rather than take the bus to meet him. The fresh spring air might help to clear her head. London was destroyed; it seemed more buildings were in ruins or boarded up than were still standing. The SOE were putting her up in Baker Street at their house there. The debriefing was arduous with repeated interviews that had taken place over three weeks, but now she was free to go.

  She had met Major General Gubbins again, and he’d been charming. Apparently, she was to be decorated for her services. At last, she
could understand why her father never wanted to talk about the war or his medals. She felt the same. She would do it again if she had to, but what she had accomplished in France wasn’t something she wished to celebrate. It had to be done and she did it, that was all there was to it.

  Walking quickly towards the Dorchester, she tried once again to practice what she was going to say to Ewan. Her excitement at seeing him again was overwhelmed by fear at how he would feel when she told him everything. She wanted so much for things to return to the way they were, but she would have to tell him about Dieter. There was no way of their relationship progressing if this huge secret existed between them – yet how could she explain her feelings towards the German officer? If she were honest, she couldn’t even explain them to herself.

  It would be so easy to paint Dieter as a man who had exploited her but that wouldn’t be honest. The fun they’d had, the interest in music they’d shared – she had to tell Ewan the whole story and in doing so face the real possibility that he would walk away from her. Dieter was a Nazi, and he had done terrible things. Often she had listened in horror as Lise told her of his latest tactic to crush the Resistance, and couldn’t reconcile this knowledge with the way he was with her. Still, when it came to it, she had done what was necessary. Perhaps that would convince Ewan.

  The elegant doorman greeted her as she stepped into the sumptuous foyer. The Dorchester was reputed to be the safest building in London since its construction of reinforced concrete the previous decade. Ewan joked in his letter that they’d better meet somewhere safe as it would be a disaster to survive the war this far and be killed by a falling wall in London.

  She was early, so she went to the ladies to check her makeup. Thankfully the room was empty, and she gazed at her reflection. Did she look different? Her makeup was perfect – Chanel liquid foundation and lipstick. For most women, these treats hadn’t been seen for years, but she’d had access to anything she had wanted through Dieter. She brought the more expensive jewellery with her in a little bag – including the sapphire engagement ring he’d given her – and given it to the debriefing team with the wish that they sell it and give the money to charities helping refugees. There had been so many beautiful things, all got through someone else’s misery – silk stockings, beautiful clothes, handmade shoes. She wondered what had become of the rest of her wardrobe in the apartment in Poitiers.

  SOE were reticent as always when she asked if her actions and sudden departure had any repercussions. They couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her, simply saying that the deaths of Spitz and Friedman were a major coup for the Resistance and her role had been invaluable. She thought of Lise and Hercule and prayed they were not paying for her actions.

  Taking one last look at her reflection, she went back to the bar. He was sitting there now, facing the door. As she entered, he jumped up and covered the distance between them in three huge strides. Drawing her close, they said nothing, just stood clinging to each other. Eventually, he drew back, looked into her face, and kissed her gently.

  His once dark hair was greying now at the temples, and the crow’s feet around his eyes were deeper. Other than that, he was the same handsome Ewan. Then she noticed a livid scar running from his ear down his neck. Tentatively, she touched it.

  ‘What happened?’ she whispered.

  ‘Bit of flying fuselage one night over the channel. Missed the jugular though, so no real harm done. You look…amazing. I thought I’d never see you again. Oh, Juliet…I can’t believe you’re here.’ He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.

  Leading them to a table, a waiter took their order. They just sat and stared, drinking each other in.

  ‘When the letters stopped coming, I nearly went out of my mind. I even wrote to your father asking if he’d heard from you, but he hadn’t. In the end, Dougie found out you’d been recruited to SOE but could tell me nothing more, he shouldn’t even have told me that. Your father and Solange have been going out of their minds too, they write every so often to know if I’ve heard anything. I couldn’t tell them where you were because Dougie would get into serious trouble, and anyway, it would only have made them worry more. I was going out of my mind until…’

  ‘The night he picked me up. For a moment I thought he was you.’ Her voice, speaking in English, still sounded strange to her ears.

  ‘He drove to my base right away, as soon as he had brought you back. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but he knew how I was about you…’ Ewan’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘What had you been doing all that time?’

  ‘Look, I can’t say too much here.’ Glancing around the room, she didn’t think anyone was eavesdropping, but she was trained to be careful. The old Juliet was impetuous and carefree, but she was a different person now. She wondered if she would ever be the same again. ‘Let’s finish these, and we can go for a walk. I’ll tell you everything then. What about you?’ She sipped her tea.

  ‘I’m in bomber command. Over Germany, mostly.’

  ‘It can’t look worse than here,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘Oh, it does, darling, it really does. We’ve flattened most of it and will continue to do so until he surrenders.’ Ewan’s voice held no note of triumph but steely determination.

  ‘It must be terrifying.’

  ‘Aye, well we have them on the back foot now. But yeah, every night you wonder if this is your last. So many of the chaps I knew are gone. I suppose you just get on with it; try not to think about it too much. Just do your job.’

  Juliet nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. They finished their drinks as he told her of his life since they’d last seen each other. Then they left the hotel and walked hand in hand towards Hyde Park. It was full of servicemen and women enjoying the fresh air.

  Ewan said softly, ‘It’s a miracle we’ve found each other again. When Dougie told me he had seen you, I…well, let’s just say my reaction wasn’t very manly. I can’t ever remember crying as an adult until then. I was sure you were dead, you see.’

  ‘I couldn’t contact you in any way. Even thinking about the real me was dangerous. I had to be who they made me. But sometimes, when I felt scared or alone, I would write to you in my mind, and imagine you, maybe even flying over France, over me. And I prayed you would hear it. I never stopped loving you, Ewan.’ She spoke quietly. She wanted him to understand that before she told him the rest of it.

  He stopped and pulled her down beside him onto a bench. ‘Nor me you. I’m never letting you go. They won’t send you back again, will they?’ he asked, suddenly anxious.

  ‘No. I thought they might, and I’d have been willing to go, but it would be too dangerous. They know who I am, you see.’

  Ewan looked at her incredulously. ‘Who do? The Nazis?’

  ‘Yes, I did something, fairly…fairly high profile, I suppose. So yes, the Nazis, Gestapo, Abwehr, know who I am – or more, who I was.’

  Ewan was trying to take it in. ‘And who were you?’

  Juliet took a deep breath. Her whole future happiness would be decided in the next few minutes. She prayed he’d understand.

  ‘My name was Marie-Louise. I started out as a receptionist for a doctor in Poitiers. I was also a nanny for his children. They were lovely boys. I used to deliver messages between various agents operating in the area.’

  ‘Right under their noses? You are one plucky lady, Juliet Buckley.’

  ‘Not really. As you said, you have a job to do and you just do it. Anyway, one day I was cycling to meet someone with an important message. It was freezing and pelting rain and the road was uphill. A German officer stopped his car.’ She paused.

  Ewan said, ‘Go on.’

  ‘He offered me a lift, and I had to take it. To do anything else would be suspicious. Then he asked me out, and I was terrified. Anyway, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and my superiors decided that I should accept. They suspected there had been a leak, you see, and they needed to find out the identity of the i
nformer. If I got close to a German officer, I could find out things.’

  She spoke slowly, looking straight ahead, not daring to check for his reaction. When Ewan said nothing, she continued.

  ‘His name was Dieter Friedman, and he was a captain of the Wehrmacht. We moved into an apartment together, and I was his girlfriend. He was fairly high up and used to go to Berlin regularly, and he trusted me. I fed information to the Resistance. The information I found out was often very useful, but it was vital not to blow my cover. He never suspected a thing. Last month, a senior Abwehr officer came to Poitiers to meet with Dieter. My orders were to kill them both. So I did.’

  The sounds of children playing and birds singing in the trees seemed incongruous with the weight of silence between her and Ewan. She longed for him to say something. She could hear him breathing beside her, and she turned to look at him for the first time since she began speaking. It was impossible to know what he was thinking.

  ‘That’s it then,’ he said.

  She felt panic rising in her chest. He was going to walk away. She wanted to beg, to explain but before she could form the words, he spoke again.

  ‘We all do things in wartime that we would never normally do. I don’t like to think about the innocent women and children I kill every night, and I know I do kill them. It’s not just military targets we sometimes need to take out, but installations in the middle of built-up areas. No one will emerge from this with clean hands. I don’t need to know any more than what you’ve just told me. I love you, and I want to marry you if you’ll have me. You did an incredible thing, and I’m so proud of you.’