‘We need to hide the bikes now,’ she said in a low voice. It was an eerie feeling, being in the dark, surrounded by trees that could be concealing Germans. A shudder ran down her spine but she pushed her fears away. ‘I need them tucked away, but somewhere I can easily find them on my way back,’ she said.
The men worked quickly and she stood with her back to them, straining her eyes in the darkness in case they were being watched. She was certain they’d have been shot by now if anyone had seen them, but she also knew that the enemy could follow them to learn more about what they were doing and where they were going.
‘Come on,’ she hissed once they were finished. She led the way, finding it weird that she was the one in charge of the soldiers. The respect all of the Englishmen had given her was incredible, their attitude making her feel like their superior. But then she figured they were simply grateful to be alive, and to have a way out of an enemy-occupied country.
Rose kept walking, careful with every footfall. She heard a noise and dropped low, waving her hand for the others to do the same. She lay still, her breath heavy and loud to her own ears, and listened for the crackle of footsteps, but no noise followed. She held her breath as she stood and lifted her head, certain the instant snap of gunfire would follow, but there was nothing.
‘Hurry,’ she said, moving faster now. The last thing she wanted was to be late to their rendezvous point and have to risk taking the men back home with her for another month. Not only would it be dangerous, but she wouldn’t have the space to hide others, and they needed every hiding place they could find with so many downed airmen to rescue. Their network involved a lot of locals, but there were only a few of them tasked with getting the rescued men out of France.
After walking in silence for what felt like an hour, Rose slowed down once they reached the beach. They were close to where the men would be collected, and she prayed that there weren’t any German guards patrolling this part of the coast.
‘We need to lie down,’ she instructed. ‘No moving, no talking.’
Fingers around her wrist made her pause. The dark had completely swallowed the air around them, which meant it was almost impossible to make out the two men with her.
‘Do you want me to dig out some sand?’ he asked, his voice a whisper, and she realised it was Thomas. ‘It might help to conceal us if we’re partially submerged.’
She nodded and then realised he probably couldn’t see the movement. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘Good idea.’
They all dug into the sand and lay on their stomachs, facing the water. All they had to do now was wait, and pray that no one saw them. The wait seemed endless, but finally she heard it – the sound of an owl, a sound she’d mimicked and practised until she could make the noise as perfectly as the bird itself. She waited and listened again, just in case it was a German who’d figured out their calls.
The familiar owl sounded again, and Rose sighed with relief. It was Josephine. Rose made the noise straight back, twice, before standing and searching with her eyes frantically for her friend. In the end Josephine and her group almost ran straight over the top of them. Rose caught her arm, stopping her from falling, and pulled her down low. The two men Josephine had with her fell down beside them.
‘Thank God you’re here safe,’ Rose whispered, hugging her friend tight.
‘You too.’
They lay low, staying silent until another call was made. This time it was Josephine who made the owl noise back, and within seconds they were on their feet. Rose wondered if her friend’s heart was pounding as hard as hers was.
Rose turned first to Thomas and wrapped her arms tight around him, fighting tears when he kissed her cheek. He’d lived with her for over two weeks now, in her house with her every hour of every day, and she’d miss his company terribly.
‘You be careful with that arm of yours and make sure to tell your wife how much you love her when you get home,’ she whispered quickly.
Then she gave Charles a hug, too, kissing his cheek. ‘Get home safely,’ she said. ‘Now, head straight for the water. Wade out as far as you can – you’ll be able to make out the rowboats further out into the water. They’ll get you safely to the submarine.’
As soon as they moved away she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped low again, on her stomach and reaching for Josephine’s hand. She listened, ears straining, making out the sound of water breaking as the men entered. Waiting was painful. She was certain she’d hear shots or German voices, but much to her surprise she didn’t hear a thing.
She shut her eyes and saw Thomas and Charles smiling, imagined them clambering into the rowboats, felt their relief as they realised they were about to be saved and sent home. She imagined all this in her mind even as her body stayed on high alert, certain the illusion was going to be shattered. But miraculously it wasn’t.
Rose stayed where she was, in the dark, burrowing further down into the sand beside her friend. It was too dangerous to leave just yet; they couldn’t see anything and needed to wait until there was the tiniest slither of light to make their way safely. If the Germans found them now, well, they had nothing to hide. The English airmen were gone and the enemy could do what they liked with her. It would be Josephine she’d do anything to save, not herself.
Rose forced her eyes to stay open and made herself comfortable. Just her, the woman nestled beside her, and the tiny baby in her belly.
Rose’s arms felt like they were going to break, they were aching so badly. The moment the sky had started to lighten she’d made her way quickly back to where the bicycles had been hidden, parting ways with Josephine. It was too dangerous for them to travel together; it was better for one of them to be caught than both.
Rose had uncovered one of the bicycles. She would have to come back for the other later and pray nobody found it in the meantime. Cycling home had been long and exhausting, and she was constantly fearful of being discovered, but she was almost there and in record time. As she neared her cottage she stopped, surveying the other houses, being careful to spot anyone who might be watching or lurking around. The homes closest to hers were full of supporters who’d risk anything to save their fellow countrymen and -women, but she was always cautious. All it took was one person, one traitor, to rip their network open and put an end to all the good work they were doing.
She breathed slowly, her heart beating fast, legs shaky from the exertion. Her stomach cramped but she did her best to ignore it. She’d had pains on and off for a few hours now, but she was certain it was hunger pangs given how long it had been since she’d eaten. Josephine was no doubt feeling the same from the sheer exhaustion of what they’d done.
Rose decided to walk now, going the rest of the way on foot and pushing the bicycle beside her. She felt uneasy, but that didn’t surprise her.
She came closer to the house and went to place the bicycle around the back against the stone wall, but a low moan made her stop. What on earth was . . . ? She gasped and leaned the bicycle hurriedly against the side of the house, running to her back door. There was a woman lying there, curled into a ball. She was bleeding but Rose couldn’t see where her wound was or what had happened.
‘Help me. Please, help me.’
Rose dropped to her knees as her stomach twinged again. ‘Tell me, what happened?’ she said in a low voice, worried someone could be watching them or listening. ‘Who did this to you?’
The woman turned on to her back slightly, eyes locking on Rose.
‘Tell me your name,’ the woman murmured.
‘Rose,’ she said, smiling down at her. ‘I’ll help you get inside. Come on.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I . . . can’t,’ she rasped. ‘Wrong . . . name.’
Rose stared at the woman, taking her hand and holding it tight. She needed to get her inside and fast.
‘Are you looking for Josephine?’ she whispered. ‘It’s too dangerous to go to her house. I’ll hide you here.’
The woman grasped her hand b
ack, her hold weak but the look on her face telling Rose that she was holding as tight as she could.
‘Help me,’ she murmured, trying to sit up. ‘Please, help me.’
Rose somehow found the strength to pull both herself and the woman on to their feet. She looked down, wondered what the wetness on the inside of her legs was. She gasped, seeing blood and realising it was her own. A crippling pain tore through her belly and she fought not to cry out.
‘You need to tell her,’ the woman whispered, her lips cracked and dry as Rose stifled her own pain to stare at the woman in her arms. ‘Tell her they need to know the fox has fallen down a hole. Please.’
Rose nodded, numb but determined to keep going no matter what was happening, not understanding the coded language but knowing how important it must be. But it was the baby. It had to be the baby. She was losing her baby, she knew it, and there was nothing she could do.
‘Repeat the words to me, and don’t tell a soul that you’ve found me. Only her.’
‘The fox has fallen down a hole,’ Rose repeated, her hands shaking as she managed to drag the woman with her. She reached out and turned the door handle, pushing the door open with her back as she did her best to haul them both inside.
She wasn’t going to let this woman fall into the wrong hands, instinctively knowing how important she could be. Even if Rose was fighting for her own life and that of her child.
CHAPTER TEN
HAZEL
ENGLAND
EARLY 1944
Hazel’s heart hammered so loudly she wondered if it was about to leap clean from her chest. This was the moment she’d been anxiously waiting for. She was beyond excited that she was finally going to be doing something, yet terrified that she’d be caught by the enemy the moment she landed.
She walked through the airfield beside her contact from the Air Liaison Section, Eddie, and gave him a tight smile when she noticed he was watching her.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Scared,’ Hazel replied honestly. ‘But I’ll be fine. I know what to do, I’m just not fond of heights.’
When he stopped at an aircraft hangar she took the chance to sit down, her knees knocking. It was time to run through everything again, and she was looking forward to doing so; it would give her the clarity and focus she needed. The more times she went through all the details, the more in control she felt.
She watched him as he carefully took out a map and leaned in closer to her.
‘This is your dropping point,’ he said. ‘I want you to familiarise yourself again with where you’ll be landing.’
Hazel stared at him, committing to memory what he was showing her. She blew out a breath. She knew she was joining a man and woman, that they’d be waiting for her in an old shed near her landing coordinates, and that she was being dropped in as their radio operator. But all the facts in the world weren’t going to prepare her for the real thing and she knew it.
‘There is one thing I want to talk to you about,’ Eddie said, sitting down beside her.
‘What is it?’ she asked, curious.
‘There are two tablets that every SOE agent must carry with them at all times. I have your two here for you.’
Hazel gulped. It felt like there were rocks in her throat. Why did she not already know this?
‘What are they?’
‘This,’ he said, ‘is Benzedrine. It will keep you awake if you need it to.’
‘And the other?’ she asked.
He nodded, holding up a small rubber something. She realised then it was a cover of some sort.
‘This is an L tablet. It’s lethal and you must keep it in this cover. Basically it’s a death pill, and if you bite down on it, you’ll be dead within two minutes.’
‘It kills you that quickly?’
‘I’m afraid so. Think of it as another weapon, something you have as a safety net if you’re ever, well, if you’re ever in the type of situation that desperately requires it.’
‘Thank you,’ Hazel said, taking the pills from him. She almost didn’t want to touch the L tablet, hating the idea of being in a situation so dire she’d have to use it or even think about using it.
‘I’ll go through your equipment once more, but other than that you’ll be in the air in no time,’ Eddie told her. ‘I’ll give you a hot toddy before we drop you, so that’s something to look forward to, I suppose.’
Hazel smiled her thanks. ‘I hope it comes with a generous dollop of rum. I’ll need it to steel my nerves.’
‘Don’t worry, love, it’ll have enough rum in it to put hairs on your chest.’
She was nervous as a person could be, but his silly joke made her laugh. She took a deep breath as she looked out at the planes. There were some agents returning, the lucky ones who’d managed to stay alive in France and make it home, and a handful being sent out. She had less than an hour before she left the safety of England, and then her fate was entirely in her own hands.
All she had to do now was put her parachute overalls on and get ready to go.
The plane was vibrating so much that Hazel was certain her entire body was buzzing, her hands shaking, her stomach flipping so violently she was on the verge of being sick. Being so high in the air, knowing what was about to happen, what she was about to do to herself – it was beyond awful.
She knew they were close, that it wouldn’t be long before she had to drop, but until then she was holding on tight.
‘Here!’
She took the hot toddy that was being passed to her from the dispatcher when she heard his shout, willing her hands to stop shaking so she could hold it without spilling it all over herself. Hazel drank it down, hoping it gave her the courage she so desperately needed.
‘See this?’ he shouted, and if she hadn’t been staring at him she probably wouldn’t even have known he was speaking. The roaring of the plane’s engines was so loud in her ears that she doubted she’d ever forget the noise.
She nodded and watched as he made a big fuss out of checking the line to show her how sturdy it was and then giving the hook they’d be using a few mighty pulls. The thought of free-falling and finding her parachute didn’t work or wasn’t properly attached had certainly crossed her mind. Then again, she knew her chances of surviving the parachute drop were significantly greater than surviving her time in France.
Something felt different then, the engine slowing or something, she didn’t know, and when she passed the cup back to her dispatcher, she wished she hadn’t drunk the entire toddy now that it was sloshing around in her belly.
She stared at the lights, watched as the dispatcher took a call from the pilot on the intercom. This was it. She knew this was the moment. She’d worried about her fiancé not coming home from war, but she suddenly realised that perhaps she had less chance of coming home now than he did.
Her dispatcher got up and took hold of the static line on her parachute, attaching it to the hook on the plane. Then he glanced at her before opening a hole in the floor of the fuselage. Hazel knew the drill, had gone over it many times so she knew what to expect and not to make a mistake, but everything seemed to be happening so fast now.
The red light came on, her signal to move, and she carefully sat, legs dangling over the edge of the hole. She didn’t look down, kept her gaze up. Her stomach was churning now, diving and flipping, the anticipation almost too much to bear, but she never took her eyes off the light. It was still red. It was red. It was . . .
Green.
Everything changed then. The noise that had rumbled in her ears like never-ending thunder abruptly ended as the engines cut to slow the plane. She gasped, her lungs suddenly empty as she clenched her fingers and dropped out of the plane and into nothingness.
She’d had to move fast to avoid the slipstream, and as much as she wanted to scream as the cool air engulfed her, she stayed deathly quiet, eyes shut tight. And then she opened them, forcing herself to look around, to enjoy the once in a lifetime experience of
falling from the sky. Hazel lost her breath, couldn’t inhale as the impact of what she was doing caught up to her, and then suddenly, just like that, she felt free. She laughed, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. This was it, this was what she’d been trained to do, and finally, finally she was here.
Hazel had never imagined anything like the rush of falling, then the static line pulled taut, jolting her back to reality as she thanked God that her chute had opened, keeping her from crashing into the ground.
She kept floating, like a bubble being passed gently through the air, and she thought about being a bird. About flying every day, seeing the world pass you by from above, and for the first time in her life she felt envious of the little winged creatures that she so often watched in the sky.
The descent was slow and magical, like nothing she’d ever felt, until she looked down and suddenly the ground seemed to be coming towards her at a rapid pace. The euphoria lifted then, disappearing like it had never existed.
She wasn’t going to stop. She was going to crash. Oh God, she was going to break every bone in her body!
Hazel shut her eyes tight before quickly popping them open again. She was in charge, she was the one attached to this damn thing and she knew what she was supposed to do. As the ground seemed to open up, ready to engulf her, she realised she was doing fine. She was going the correct speed, was going to be all right so long as she didn’t tangle in the nearby trees.
Oomph.
She hit the ground. Hazel scrambled to find her feet, everything she’d learned during her training coming back to her in a rush as though she’d done this all before. Of course she had, in training, only then she’d had backup and she hadn’t been landing in a territory occupied by Germans. There was a chance they’d seen her already, which was why the quicker she found her contacts, the faster she’d get to safety.
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