by Tania Szabô
Next morning, Tuesday 25 April, was the first day to wait for Philippe in the Luxembourg Gardens. Putting on her new silk floral dress and the new shoes, Violette decided to walk to the Trois Quartiers department store95 in boulevard de la Madeleine to buy some gifts for her family as she had a few hours before her rendezvous.
The art deco store had almost twenty upmarket departments of clothing, perfume and cosmetics for men and women; even children were catered for. She enjoyed the modern elegance and sparkle of its interior white stone surfaces and black steel lines and gazed at the beautiful objects on show in bevelled glass showcases and gleaming counters. For her mother, Violette bought a Lalique-designed bottle of Worth’s perfume called Je Reviens … ‘I’m coming back …’. It had been created by Worth in 1932 and continued to be popular as a gift for soldiers’ wives and sweethearts, not only for its fragrance but also for its evocative name of tender partings and joyful returns. She also bought a flacon of Soir de Paris.96
Continuing her spree, she bought silk-lined kid gloves and her mother’s preferred rouge, ‘Bourjois’. It was the first light makeup ever used by the theatre in France and Reine had used it when she worked in the Wardrobe of Paris theatre land before her marriage. It had replaced the heavy greasepaint of the times, to be dabbed on lips and cheeks from tiny bijou pink and cream pots edged with black trim and writing.
Violette spent time searching the men’s department looking for gifts for the boys and her father. She bought silk ties and linen handkerchiefs plus a fine set of brushes. She would decide later who would get what.
A gift for Vera Atkins was a must. Vera was a perplexing woman, yet Violette liked her. Severe and dismissive often enough, she could be smilingly kind. Her barriers would drop and out would pop a fascinatingly funny yet ever acerbic lady, until they slammed down again and she returned to strict working procedures. Violette appreciated it was good to be under a stringent regime unmarred by sentimentality. She liked the woman; there was something slightly un-English under the veneer of the ‘Kensington lady’. She had no idea why, although they spent many hours together preparing for Violette’s missions until, one day, Vera hinted to Violette she was not English. She was, in fact, Rumanian and had only recently been naturalised as British after becoming Buckmaster’s assistant.
An unusual brooch caught her eye. She was sure Vera Atkins would like it so asked that it be wrapped as a small gift. It had a large cluster of red and green enamel beads and two smaller ones with a pearl drop hanging from each. Vera treasured it and showed it off at the première of the film Carve her Name with Pride where Virginia McKenna beautifully played the role of Violette.
Violette found the children’s clothes department on the second floor, but the assistant was apologetic, telling Violette that there were not many children’s clothes in Paris at that time. Most children had been evacuated so there had been a big run on clothes before they left, and stock had not been replaced as there was no real market for them by then. She asked how old the child was.
Violette replied that she would be two years old in six weeks, thinking how quickly she must be growing. The saleslady did not think they had anything left for children that young but would check. As she was doing so, Violette saw some beautiful silk and lawn dresses. She was drawn to the one with small blue and pink flowers with tiny green leaves. All very delicate.
Violette inspected it; even though it was for a child of about four she thought her mother could alter it or it could be kept until Tania was older. She was sure it would suit her pale complexion and hazel eyes. It had tiny puffed sleeves; perfect rows of hand-stitched smocking crossed the bodice with slim satin ribbons to tie at the back. Violette thought there could be nothing prettier for her daughter and determined that Tania would wear it to celebrate the war’s end. I did wear it – to meet the King for her.
She bought a tiny ivory fan and a silk scarf of deep plum hues with just a touch of yellow for her mother. It was lovely. Reine adored scarves and would treasure a silk one with a hand-printed pattern.
Violette finally left the store and took the Métro back to the station near the Luxembourg Gardens. It was time to wait for Philippe.
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She strolled with her packages to the gardens, an active, elegant and sparkling woman, evidently going to meet her husband or lover.
The Jardin du Luxembourg is an extensive series of gardens and recreational areas spread over twenty-five verdant and tree-filled hectares. What an outrage, thought Violette, looking sadly at statues, defaced or destroyed by the occupier, but it did not stop the gardens being a beautiful place to relax on a lovely spring day. There were some unattended flowerbeds and miniature forests, but she also noted French and German gardeners tending vegetable patches. This activity was strongly encouraged by the occupying authorities to keep the conquered people otherwise engaged trying to ‘grow their own’. German policy was to ensure that the French struggled on a daily basis to find sufficient nourishment for themselves and their families, leaving little time for organised resistance. In England, allotments created before the war continue to flourish, but in France their only use was as a tool to subjugate; they did not flourish after the war.
From their rendezvous point, Violette could see the Luxembourg Palace at the far end of the gardens. Even from that distance, the huge red and black square swastika hanging from the entrance of the palace offended the eye. The palace had been requisitioned by the German Luftwaffe as the Third Luftwaffe divisional headquarters. Today it is the seat of the French Senate, the upper house of the French parliament.
Philippe did not appear that day. She waited the one and a half hours they had appointed and then added another fifteen minutes. To stay longer would only be to invite unwanted attention.
As she walked off, Violette could see that the Germans had made this a secure stronghold, with bunkers dug into the destroyed lawns and Blockhäusern scattered between the trees. Violette saw signs that the Schutzstaffel, the SS, had placed several tons of TNT as mines in the gardens and palace area. Most frightening were the tanks aggressively arrayed over the twenty-five hectares. Well-armed sentries were ready to move instantly against any attack.
She sauntered back towards her hotel, stopping on the way in a bistrot for a coffee and a bite to eat. She returned to her hotel where the doorman warmly welcomed her. He asked if there was anything he could do for her. Violette smiled back, answering no, but saying thanks, as she was going up to rest and read quietly in her room. First, she said she would order coffee and sandwiches to be brought up at about six in the evening. He insisted he arrange it for her, having heard enough about her from Rouen that he would do his best to make her time in ‘his’ hotel more comfortable and safe.
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Wednesday morning rushed in on a strong gusting wind. After a leisurely breakfast in her room, Violette dressed in her floral dress with the cardigan from Rouen over it. On went the pretty new shoes, comfortable and smart. A little makeup, hair combed and she was ready.
She would pick up the tartan dress on the way to the Luxembourg Gardens to wait for Philippe. She took a vélo-taxi to Molyneux’s salon. The manager eagerly greeted her; she was spending a small fortune there. Her dress was ready but she did not try it on nor have coffee. ‘Non, mesdames, désolée. I’ve an appointment and must rush. Thank you so much. Au revoir.’
Walking to the Opéra, she window-shopped, stopping for a coffee. She chatted with the waiter who saw her newspaper with a reporting of terroristes killing a Gestapo officer. He hoped there would not be too heavy a reprisal, wishing the Résistance would stay out of Paris. He bet that de Gaulle would be in Paris by Christmas. She studied him and saw he was absolutely sincere.
Violette took the Métro to Luxembourg Gardens. The electric trains were packed to bursting as services had been drastically cut so only a few were running on each line. There was no trouble, just the usual checkpoints where most people’s papers were cursorily glanced at while tickets were
checked.
She strolled from Métro Luxembourg into the Luxembourg Gardens to wait. Philippe was already sitting there, waiting patiently. He looked up and could not believe his eyes. She looked a million dollars. They rushed to one another and embraced as relief flowed through them both. Gradually they pulled apart, looked carefully at each other and walked away, arm in arm, looking like any other couple having rediscovered one another under the blue skies of Paris.
‘Alors, ma chère Corinne …’
‘But I’m not Corinne, I’m now Madame Marguerite Blanchard, née Picardeau, widow.’ Violette told him her new identity and cover story.
‘Well, ma chère Marguerite, I’m astounded. Elegant and beautiful. You look and sound so much the part. I like it very much. Different from the young Le Havre secretary. You’ve done well.’
‘Thank you. The new cover was necessary, otherwise I’d have been in a prison cell these last three days. Chief Inspector Alie’s bunch arrested me. One of his thugs questioned me but Inspector Déterville managed to make that questioning very brief. I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.’
Philippe was amazed by her matter-of-fact description of her arrest. ‘First, let’s get your things from the hotel and get over to my aunt’s. Why on earth didn’t you go there immediately?’
‘Too dangerous for her, and perhaps for me, as I didn’t know her situation or whether her phone is tapped. I was fine in the hotel. Turned out it’s a safe-house. I bought a superb evening gown and a few other things from Molyneux …’ She giggled.
Philippe almost shouted, ‘You did what? Molyneux’s is loved by the Germans – officers and wealthy civilians. It is also run by Germans, as you bloody well know. What could you have been thinking of?’
‘That beautiful dress, of course. What else? I was politely haughty and even smiled from under my lashes at some dashing German general! Only a few other things: a couple of dresses and a pullover. You see, Philippe, I had to do something innocent while waiting for you to appear …’
‘Innocent! You call that innocent? How did you pay?’
‘Why, with some of the remainder of the money I had on me.’
‘The cheek of it! Government property!’
‘More cheek to the government, then! It’s counterfeit, every last sou!97 My little bit to destabilise the economy. Oh, and Trois Quartiers and a few other fashion boutiques.’
They made their way to the hotel, still talking about Violette’s purchases, picked up her two suitcases, including a new and somewhat larger one of the best leather. Philippe sighed and paid the hotel bill while Violette said a fond farewell to the doorman and slipped him a substantial tip. They then got a vélo-taxi to the corner of the street where Tante Evelyn lived.
Tante Evelyn was overjoyed to see Violette safe and well. She had seen Philippe several times over the last three weeks but was eager to hear all Violette had to recount. Although Violette was delighted to tell her some of her tales, nothing she said impinged on the work she had done, intelligence she had gathered, nor activities undertaken or to be undertaken by those she left behind in Rouen. She would put no one in danger through her careless talk.
Philippe was so proud of her, amazed by what she had accomplished and that she had been able to meet so many people. Tante Evelyn had heard that some viaduct near Rouen had been blown. Violette grinned at Philippe. The three all clinked glasses. New landing sites had also been organised ready for drops of rifles and other weaponry.
Philippe said he would ensure transmission to London prior to their leaving just in case something happened to them.
Violette was happy; proud she had been instrumental in two strategic blows to the enemy, especially the Balentin viaduct. They discussed their plans to get back to London. Philippe explained they would take the train to Issoudun where a contact would pick them up there and take them to the airfield of Fay, a little south-east of the town. There they would be taken by Lysander back to England, probably Tempsford Airfield.
‡
* * *
95 Trois Quartiers was a department store named after the three adjoining districts of the Madeleine, Opéra and Concorde.
96 Soir de Paris = Paris Evening by Bourjois was introduced in 1929. It was a classically romantic perfume of jasmine, Turkish rose and other fragrances, not as fashionably sweet as today’s version. Ernest Beaux created it and Chanel No. 5.
97 A ‘sou’ was at one time the smallest French coin. The first one appeared under Clovis, Charlemagne revalued the money while keeping the sou which was then equal to 12 deniers. (1 livre = 20 sous or 240 deniers until the French Revolution).
Part V
22
Back to London
Friday 28 April to Monday 1 May 1944
The train carried the two SOE agents to Issoudun via Les Aubrais about three miles north of the city centre of Orléans.
Before making their way to the station, Violette and Philippe had an early breakfast with Tante Evelyn. It was a happy breakfast, tinged by the sadness of reading in the Pétainist newspaper that Germans had taken reprisals against the population of Paris after a Résistance blockade ended in a gun battle in which about eight German soldiers had been killed or seriously wounded.
Still as the widow, smartly dressed for the journey, Violette had, as before, tucked socks and pretty rural scarf into her shoulder bag so that when she arrived at Issoudun in the heart of Berry, Indre, she could revert to the country girl before meeting their contact and being taken to a farm near Le Fay aerodrome, south-east of Issoudun.
She looked fresh and rested but lines of strain were etched on her face. She looked as if she was in her late twenties or early thirties when in fact she was not yet twenty-three. But Violette looked lovelier in her new maturity, a process youth alone does not usually bestow. Philippe, too, was looking a little strained after a hectic time travelling to meet groups in the south and south-east of Paris. At least he had on a fresh suit and shirt, shoes polished and tie nondescript but neat. Both of them were committed heart and soul to ridding their country of the pestilence of Nazi occupation. It was, however, quite impossible for fellow travellers to deduce that from their behaviour.
As it was a fine sunny morning, they sat on the small terrace of the Buffet Austerlitz and sipped ‘national’ coffee. At the appointed time, they joined the queue to pass through the usual checkpoints at Gare Austerlitz. The porter carried their luggage into their first-class carriage, hoisted it into the racks, received a generous tip and moved off smartly to find other customers. They took their seats and settled in comfortably.
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Echoing down the platform in a rapid-fire female French voice and a male Prussian one, the station tannoy announced the imminent departure of the train. The platform master strode along rapidly slamming shut any open carriage doors. Three piercingly loud, shrill whistles, and it was moving out.
People shouted and waved their last farewells, porters moved through the milling crowds, smoke billowed and the locomotive slowly chugged from the station, away from Paris towards Orléans. In peacetime, the journey took around an hour.
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En route, Philippe and Violette again discussed Violette’s encounter with Malraux, referring to him by his alias of Colonel Berger.
‘Marguerite,’ Philippe said using her present cover, ‘le Colonel told me he heard you were back from your mission to Rouen and that he urgently needed to meet you to discover news of Claude. I’m glad you met up but your news was not happy.’
‘He’s a bit arrogant,’ said Violette. ‘But I was happy to help and enjoyed our meetings. In his sphere of the intelligentsia, he’s well received. Otherwise, I believe he’d probably rub people the wrong way. Our third encounter, the day after you and I met again in Luxembourg Gardens, nearly ended in disaster.’
‘Tell me again what happened with André,’ asked Philippe.
‘Certainly, I went to meet André at the given time to see exactly what he wanted of me. He w
as already there across the street. Just as I was about to go over to him, a hand grabbed my shoulder. I turned into the face of a police sergeant. He grabbed me, rather roughly, by the arm and pushed me into the police car. When we arrived at the police station, I was taken into the captain’s office. He dismissed his sergeant with a thank you and asked me to sit down. My knees were knocking, I can tell you. Apparently, Déterville had been in touch with him – but I don’t know this captain’s name – and he warned me to get the hell out of town. The hotel had informed on me – but there was also a Résister, the doorman, as I told you, who contacted Déterville, thank God. They knew that I, as Corinne Leroy, had fled from Rouen and was hiding out in Paris. They even knew that I had another cover but not the name I was using. I don’t know how. It was a blessing I left the hotel when we met on Wednesday. I saw our Colonel, André Malraux, turn away when he saw what was happening and walk off. Nothing else he could possibly do.’
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As they talked, there came a warning signal from the train as it pulled to an unscheduled stop after a steep curve. A small platoon of Gestapo troops rushed onto the train through the open doors of each carriage. An unsuccessful manhunt had already been made by German security police on the train for two Résistants who had apparently fled from one second-class compartment to another when their papers had not held up to the scrutiny of the conductor.
Gestapo double-checked every passenger on the train. Every wagon was also checked for stowaways. Voices were raised and chaos ensued. Once in the first-class compartments, the Germans worked more quickly and less conscientiously against the constant carping and complaints from passengers, including Philippe and Violette who acted like two harassed squawking hens. Later, shots were heard.