by Shirley Mann
They pumped up and down but then Bobby fell down onto her elbows, exhausted. Elizé fell on top of her and they both started to giggle. Once they started, neither of them could stop. To hear the child’s tinkling laughter was such a joyous sound that Bobby started to cry.
‘What is the matter?’ Elizé asked her, catching herself mid-laugh.
‘I’m just so pleased to hear you laugh.’
Elizé sat back on her heels, considering this comment. ‘Is it all right to laugh? It feels so wrong when Papa is . . . and Maman . . .’ she asked simply and Bobby reached out her arms and enveloped the child in them, hugging her tightly.
*
Bobby had been wondering all week what was going to happen to Elizé, so when they emerged from the cellar to have their last evening meal in France, she decided to tackle the subject head on.
‘Alors, Raoul, Michel . . . what about Elizé?’
Raoul looked across at Michel, who stepped forward and coughed in embarrassment and said, ‘We have organised the pick-up for you for tonight, after midnight. It is still a good moon. And, we . . . we have arranged that Elizé will go with you? Maybe to your house?’
He said it as a question, not wanting to assume that Bobby and her family would take the little girl in as one of their own but Bobby’s response filled him with relief. It was a suggestion that had come down the wire from some high-up official in London who seemed to know Bobby, and Raoul had been doubtful whether it was asking too much of a man who probably hated everything to do with the Bisset family.
There was another reason why they had to get Elizé out of the country. They knew the Germans were planning house-to-house searches following the failed sabotage attempt and, aware that they used ‘reprisal’ executions as a way to terrify the locals into betraying their neighbours, they wanted the two girls safely out of harm’s way.
‘Naturellement,’ she said with a smile, putting her arm round the girl’s shoulder. There was nothing else to be said but inside, she was filled with a huge feeling of a complete joy she had never experienced before. She knew she could not have got on the aircraft without Elizé.
All through the meal, Elizé kept looking shyly up at Bobby with an adoring expression. Bobby beamed back.
Is this what maternal love feels like? she wondered. Throughout her life, she had kept her heart firmly locked up in a steel casket and now this child had found the key.
Raoul took the cork out of the wine and poured a glass for each of them, even a very small one for Elizé. He called Claudette out of the kitchen to join them then he stood up and cleared his throat.
‘So, my “daughter”, you leave for England. You will leave a big hole in our house and in our hearts. You brought my son back to me and now he is taking control here, I am very proud of him.’
He saluted Michel with his glass and they all raised their wine to toast Michel. Michel, who was looking so much healthier and stronger than when he arrived, blushed. Claudette beamed at him with pride.
‘You take with you our little Elizé, who is now my granddaughter,’ – he really did enjoy adding to his family – ‘and hopefully, her war is over. We pray to Le Bon Dieu that she will once again be reunited with her maman but for now, we trust her to our Bobbee, who will be her mother until that day.’
Bobby wondered whether he had started the wine early, he was certainly warming to his role as organiser of his new, extended family. Michel had not seen his father this happy since before his mother was ill, and he grinned indulgently.
‘We drink this wine and eat this food, thank God for this evening and for all of us being together,’ Raoul went on. ‘It is a very special evening in our lives and one we will repeat when this terrible war is over, which I am beginning to think, peut-être, grậce à Dieu, oh, and also to the Allies,’ he smiled, ‘will be soon.’
Claudette glanced across at Michel. Brushing a stray hair back from her face, she thought of the day she would be able to wear a new pretty, floral dress and then he could no longer ignore her. Bobby spotted the look and reached across to put her hand reassuringly on the French girl’s red raw one. There was one thing she could do before she left, she thought.
Michel looked at the old grandfather clock in the corner and nudged his father. ‘Ah oui, we have a small job to do before we go tonight,’ Raoul said. He led Bobby and Elizé back to the cellar for the last time. Bobby looked around at the dank room that had been her home for a week. It was a week she would remember forever. She changed into her uniform, which seemed from another life, and settled down to tell Elizé a story, hoping the little girl would get some sleep before their adventure.
Bobby was drifting off herself when she heard a commotion in the street above. There were scuffling footsteps, and then the sound of a woman sobbing before the quiet closing of a door. Bobby sat up quickly, her heart thumping. She looked up at the firmly-shut trap door above them and thought how the word ‘trap’ appropriately summed up when you were stuck underground with nowhere to go. She held her breath, waiting for sounds and debated whether to wake Elizé but then decided the little girl was better being left for as long as possible in a world of dreams.
After an agonising ten minutes, the trap door opened and Bobby froze, waiting to see who would peer into the gloom. She automatically put her arms out to shield Elizé but it was Claudette who peered down.
‘Bobbee, Bobbee, dépêchez-vous.’
Bobby hurriedly gathered up Elizé and glanced around her. She had destroyed both their drawings, hoping that Elizé would be able to re-do the ones of her parents. She had come with nothing and now she was leaving with nothing, except one small Jewish child.
She followed Claudette through the kitchen and out of a scullery door to a wall behind.
‘Il faut grimper,’ she whispered. ‘Je vais vous passer Elizé.’
Bobby looked at the wall in front of her. She was glad her ATA trousers allowed her to climb properly and all those lessons on tree climbing from Archie were about to pay off. She clambered up and then reached down to take Elizé, who had such a mask of terror on her face that Bobby was worried she would scream. She put her finger to her lips and Elizé nodded slowly and bit her lip.
Claudette whispered to her to go two streets down, find the large tree on the corner and hide behind it until Michel came for her.
Bobby reached down her hand to clasp Claudette’s. She had not even had time to help her friend’s lovelorn cause so as she swung her legs over the other side of the wall, she whispered urgently to her, ‘Dites-lui, Claudette, tell him how you feel.’
Claudette grasped her hand tightly for a brief moment and then pushed her away, anxious she should flee as quickly as possible.
Bobby and Elizé bolted down the street. Bobby did not register the houses they passed, nor did she look to see if they were being followed, it was past curfew and anyone found in the streets could be arrested, let alone a woman in a pilot’s uniform and a small Jewish child. She found the tree and the two of them crouched behind it, wrapped in each other’s arms, trying to look as small as possible. After what seemed an age, Michel suddenly appeared at Bobby’s shoulder.
‘Vite, suivez-moi,’ he said in a low voice and went off down a small alleyway. The two girls followed, Elizé clinging onto the bottom of Bobby’s jacket. They dodged from doorway to doorway, trying to make their footsteps as quiet as possible. Bobby hoped the people in the houses were too experienced at ignoring noises in the street to want to investigate.
They reached an area where there were some trees and a common with a pond. On the edge were some ducks with their heads tucked under their wings. Their undisturbed slumbers seemed incongruous while such drama was unfolding around them.
In one corner of the common, Bobby spotted a small group of men carrying a dark shape. It looked like a body. Another one had a spade. Bobby pulled up sharply with a cry. She immediately shielded Elizé’s eyes but hissed at Michel. ‘What? Who?’
‘The
informer,’ Michel replied bitterly. ‘There will be no trace. La justice, she is done.’
Chapter 24
Gus had been pacing up and down all day.
‘For Christ’s sake, sit down!’ Walter Jones, one of the other pilots, called across the room. He had watched Gus do nothing but go around in circles since he came on shift in the late afternoon and it kept distracting him from his letter to his sweetheart.
‘You’re making me dizzy. What is the matter with you?’
A third pilot, Rob, looked up from his newspaper. ‘He’s been watching the weather all day. We’ve all got missions tonight. Why are you in such a faff?’ he asked Gus.
Gus stopped pacing, only now registering anyone was talking to him. ‘What?’ he asked the two pilots.
‘Oh, we may as well leave him alone, it’s hopeless,’ Walter said. ‘He must be in love,’ and went back to his letter. Rob shook his head and concentrated on his crossword.
Gus kept glancing out of the window. It was dark but he could see the clouds were gathering. His last trip, when he had had to leave Bobby in France, had been three days before the full moon and they only had tonight before it waned, negating any chance of flying. Without the light from the moon, the pick-up would be postponed and he could not bear a delay.
He could not believe how nervous he was. Would she be there? Was she OK? And finally, would she be so pleased to see him, she would fall into his arms?
Gus gave a wry smile. That was in his dreams, he thought.
Markham came in the door.
‘Flight Lieutenant Prince,’ he called, beckoning.
All three pilots stood to attention. Gus immediately followed him out of the room, leaving Peter and Rob looking after him, but trained not to ask questions, they both shrugged and carried on with their tasks in hand.
‘Close the door,’ Markham said as Gus followed him into his office. ‘At ease. Now Prince, the Met Office say the weather is clearing so your mission should go ahead.’ He heard an audible sigh of relief from the pilot in front of him.
‘You will fly a Lysander but there is a passenger, a child. She will have to be secreted in the drop tank. It will be an extremely uncomfortable journey for her. First Officer Hollis will be in the cockpit, just behind you in case of problems and must be ready to take over if necessary.’
Gus knew better than to show any surprise, but his mind was racing. Why was Bobby being accompanied by a child? He had spent the week creating endless scenarios about what was happening in France and none of them were good but certainly none of them included a child.
Markham was continuing. ‘I’m assuming you remember the coordinates because you won’t have any written instructions and we don’t want you to use the radio. They know you’re coming but speed will be of the essence. It’s been a bit of a busy night over there and the pick-up will have to be very fast and efficient.’
He paused. He had just received an encrypted message that suggested that the night raid to Nuremberg involving more than 700 bombers was going disastrously wrong for the Allies.
‘There is a chance the Jerries may have caught up with developments that have been happening over there tonight and the mission may be aborted at the last minute, so we’re not using the usual Morse code. Listen to the radio but don’t respond unless there’s an emergency. The code word for you to pull out is “Dover”. If all is A-OK, then it’s “Paris”. Got that?’
‘Yessir!’ Gus replied with a confidence that was ebbing with every minute.
‘Righty-ho, then dismissed. Take off is in one hour. Send in Flight Lieutenant Jones, will you?’
Gus spent the next half hour checking the batteries in his reading light for navigation, the Met Office reports and the maps that he would need to get to his destination but, in reality, he had done this trip in his head several times over the past few days and it was etched in his memory.
Finally, he headed out to the airfield. The Lysander, with its dark paint to disguise it from the enemy, glistened every time the moon appeared from between the clouds. He looked anxiously upwards, there was still some cover which made flying at such a low altitude without lights a real problem, but by the time he had done his pre-flight checks, he was relieved to see that the sky had cleared and the stars were twinkling innocently as if mayhem were not happening in the world below.
He revved up and taxied the short runway and took off into the dark skies. A vision of Bobby looking expectantly at the sky, waiting for him, came before his eyes but he firmly dismissed it. This was a time to be a professional pilot not a lovesick schoolboy. He flew east to avoid the south coast as it was a prohibited area during the spring of 1944, so he knew nothing of the huge amount of activity taking place there with ships, tanks, armoury and landing craft preparing for Operation Overlord.
He flew low and fast across to Normandy, thankful it was the north of France he was going to and not somewhere hours to the south. The skies were unusually quiet, he registered with relief. He was totally unaware that while the moonlight was allowing his mission to go ahead, it also meant the enemy was taking advantage of its bright light to pick off bomber after bomber on the ill-fated mission to Bavaria’s second city, Nuremberg. The Germans had no time to worry about one small aircraft flying low over the Channel.
As he approached the pick-up spot, the radio sputtered into life. It was very crackly, but he could make out the word ‘Paris’ and breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to happen; he was going to rescue Bobby and take her safely home. He felt he could have flown without an engine.
Chapter 25
Bobby and Elizé were both shaking with cold. They had been led silently out of the village but were now on the edge of some woods that Bobby thought she recognised from the first night.
‘We will be OK,’ she whispered into the child’s ear. ‘Soon, we will be safe in England and I will show you the farm where I was brought up. Mrs Hill will look after you and Aunt Agnes will read you stories at night.’
She struggled to envisage her strait-laced aunt cuddling this small child as she dropped off to sleep but then she remembered the lullaby that had emerged from her own memories and thought that perhaps there was a side to Aunt Agnes she had forgotten existed. Bobby started to describe the farm, and as she recalled the images of cornfields, cows chewing the cud and hens running in the yard, she gradually felt both her and Elizé’s shivering bodies calm down, but then Michel wheeled round to face them, placing his finger on his lips.
The two girls froze.
In the distance, there were some dark figures coming through the trees.
Michel pushed them both behind a large, gnarled trunk, where they crouched down amongst the early spring flowers that had furled up for the night. Bobby looked at them enviously – if only she could furl Elizé and herself up too and disappear into the undergrowth. The approaching group made no sound and Bobby and Elizé held their breaths.
Michel gave a low owl hoot. There was a moment’s silence and then a replying hoot.
He emerged from the tree and greeted with relief the three men who had approached them.
They spoke in rapid French, but Bobby understood that because of Michel’s activities in the village that night, there had been a change of pick-up location and that they were to go to the west of the woods, not the east. Her French had definitely improved, she thought.
Together, the group changed direction and headed the opposite way until they reached a clearing where Michel pushed both the girls into a ditch.
‘The pilot could not be told of the change,’ he whispered to Bobby, we have to get his attention. Is there one word we can use so he know it is you? Our friends have led the Germans to the wrong place but now we must act quickly.’
Another man came up beside him with a flashlight. They both looked expectantly at Bobby. She searched her mind, but it was a blank.
Then she had a vision of her and Gus Prince locked in regular fierce combat over a school desk while he tried in vain
to beat her at their favourite game and she blurted out, ‘Arm-wrestling!’
Michel looked at her in puzzlement but then started to flash the letters out in Morse with the lamp. She hoped with all her might that it was Gus who was the pilot or else those words would not make any sense at all.
Up above them, Gus talked out loud to an empty cockpit. ‘What . . . ?’ he exploded.
He checked and re-checked the message that was being flashed to him from the wrong side of the woods to the expected coordinates.
‘Arm-wrestling? Arm-wrestling? What the hell?’
He worked through the possibilities rapidly in his head. At first, he thought the Germans had laid a trap for him but then it was repeated over and over.
Then it dawned on him. This was a message only he would understand when there was no time for a code to be established.
He burst out laughing.
‘Of course, Roberta Hollis,’ he told the dark woods below him, ‘still making the most of your victories, are you? You always won, damn you. OK, have it your way. Ah, there you are, my lovely. Gus Prince to the rescue.’
He turned the plane left and then swept it down like an avenging angel guided by the torches being waved in the air by the resistance fighters.
Bobby heaved a huge sigh of relief. Either the Lysander was being flown by Gus or it was some other bemused RAF pilot who was taking an enormous risk by following gibberish messages.
Michel nudged her to move towards the flat part of the field. She had just a brief second to hug him.
‘I will see you . . . when all this is over.’
‘Mai oui,’ he replied, clinging to her. ‘We are family now and it is for all-time.’
‘And Michel,’ she said quickly over her shoulder as she left, ‘Claudette is very beautiful, you know.’
He just had the chance to look at her quizzically before he remembered he was supposed to be pushing her and Elizé towards the plane. Bobby spotted the ladder on the side of it and propelled Elizé up it, following just as the plane started to taxi for take-off.