Sibbie giggled every time she saw Marjie put her small, round glasses on. Fitted with plain glass, they really did disguise her, especially with the way she combed her hair, pulling it straight back into a bun at the nape of her neck.
Then there were the freckles, for which she had a template. Sibbie always did these for Marjie, and had to be sure to get the template in the same place across the bridge of Marjie’s nose and over her cheeks; it was important, too, that she used the correct mixture of the facial make-up they’d been given. As so little was needed each day, the amount they possessed was stored inside the case of a pen.
Their drop into Languedoc-Roussillon, close to Hérault, had both thrilled them – as it was exactly where they wanted to be – and frightened them, as the parachute jump had to be from a much higher altitude than they had ever jumped before.
Lit torches had guided them to the right place on the ground, and both girls had made a perfect landing. Not that they had time to think about it, as they were immediately surrounded by Resistance fighters, who hurried them away. To Sibbie’s disappointment, Paulo didn’t appear and now, three weeks later, they still hadn’t been contacted or given any instructions from HQ in Britain.
They were billeted with the mother of one of the Resistance men, Madame Bachelet, in Narbonne, a beautiful city, and worked in her grocery shop on the corner of rue Michelet, where it met rue Garibaldi – a central position, behind and dominated by Narbonne’s magnificent cathedral, which was dedicated to Saints Justus and Pastor.
Their work was a good cover, as groceries had to be delivered on special bikes, with a huge basket built onto the front. No matter what messages they were asked to take where, they would simply look as though they were delivery girls.
They were passed off as nieces of a cousin of Madame Bachelet. They’d listened many times to Madame relay to customers how her cousin, who lived on the outskirts of Paris in the Saint-Denis area, had fled the country and left the girls to make their way down to her for help. ‘My cousin brought them up, as both of her sisters – who were my cousins too, of course – died: Margarita’s mama at her birth, and Sibilia’s in a car accident when Sibilia was just one year old. Their fathers married again, and in the beginning rarely visited their daughters, until one day their visits ceased. My cousin was good to the girls, but dared not take them with her. She had an English husband and had to go with him. A whole family would have attracted too much attention. So she gave the girls my address and told them to come to me. It is a great burden, but what can I do? Still, they are making themselves useful.’
* * *
‘Sibbie, you’re getting so good at this. It only takes you a few minutes to freckle me now, when it took almost half an hour the first time.’
‘Keep still, Marjie. When you talk, you move your cheeks.’
‘Of course I do!’
‘Well, shut up then.’
The disguise was very important, as Marjie was not far from an area where she was well known. Not in Narbonne itself, which lay some thirty-six miles from Laurens, where her home was, although people Marjie knew did travel there, for whatever reason, and she must not be recognized.
They had kept their cover names from their training days – Margarita for Marjie and Sibilia for Sibbie – which made things very easy for them, as they could continue using the same nicknames they had for each other. All in all, they had settled into their roles well, but both of them so wanted to be sent on their first mission.
When the coded message arrived a week later, they were excited to realize it was from their Uncle Arnie, but fearful as to whether they were doing the right thing by obeying the order. ‘Be at the cathedral for one p.m. Bring essentials. A.’
‘Essentials’ were their papers and what they’d come to look on as the tools of their trade: the component for activating a radio transmitter; a pen that was really a knife; a strangulation cord, which was threaded through a seam of their coat sleeve and could be quickly accessed; and their special boots, with the parts of a gun that could be speedily assembled concealed in the heels.
There was no cover story or any other information. ‘I’m not sure about this, Marjie. I know Uncle Arnie is the coordinator, and that A is his code-name, but we were told to await a message from HQ and that it would be transmitted.’
‘Should we check this out with them? I know our instructions are that we retain radio silence until the order is given, but what if this is a trap?’
After a moment Marjie came up with the plan to go to the assigned area, but to stay out of sight until they could see who arrived to pick them up. She knew most of the members of the Maquis.
‘What if it’s someone we don’t know, but who is still genuine?’
‘Then we don’t go, Sibbie, as we have no way of knowing they are genuine. Like you, I have serious doubts. I mean, would Uncle Arnie put us in such a position? He must know what our orders are.’
‘If this is fake, it means that our cover is blown. But how? No one has questioned our status. They’ve all accepted Madame Bachelet’s story.’
‘I did have one person question me – a man. I took a delivery to a house in rue Etienne Gaillard. A man opened the door and seemed genuine in his enquiry. He said, “You’re new – where are you from?” I gave him our cover story and he just said, “You were lucky to get out of Paris, but I’m glad, as I don’t like having to fetch my own grocery order from the shop. It has been a while since the delivery boys were taken for forced labour.”’
‘Oh, you never said. What did you reply?’
‘I didn’t. I told him the amount of his bill, took his money and left.’
‘Well, it doesn’t sound suspicious. I shouldn’t worry, Marjie.’
‘No – it could have been nothing. We’ll go along with our plan and see what happens.’
Madame showed her surprise when they told her they were to leave, and didn’t know how long for. ‘But what am I to say to people? I was told you would be working from here at all times. If that had changed, I would be informed and given another cover story.’
This further alarmed Marjie. ‘Sibbie, I don’t think we should go. If this is a trap, then we will have blown our cover. I think we should stay until we receive a transmission.’
Sibbie thought this over. Their radio transmitter was hidden in the store shed behind the shop. Every night at seven p.m. they went there, as instructed. They took with them the component needed to activate the transmitter, then waited for thirty minutes. If nothing came through, they disabled the radio, and that was that. Surely any instructions would come via that medium? This thought made up Sibbie’s mind as to the action they should take. ‘I think we’ll have to radio HQ. Our orders were to inform them as soon as we can, if an emergency arises. I think this comes under the heading of an emergency. If that message is fake, then it means that Uncle Arnie – and our code – is compromised, and so are we.’
‘But how?’
‘The Maquis may have been infiltrated. We have no way of knowing.’
Fear showed in Marjie’s eyes. And it matched Sibbie’s fear. Thoughts of their instructions, if caught, came to her; although would they have to take the cyanide pill? They knew nothing and had been involved in nothing, so no matter how much they were tortured, they couldn’t give away any information. But then she realized just how much they did know. They knew about the Maquis, and who the coordinator of the Resistance groups was. They knew Paulo, the leader of the Laurens de Hérault section, and that Jacques, Madame Bachelet’s son, was a member of the Maquis; and, of course, they knew much about the workings of the espionage system. Information that would be catastrophic in the wrong hands, especially the radio codes used over the air. Her heart dropped.
She’d been shocked when, on their last briefing, the final item given to them was a pill that they were to keep on them at all times. ‘If you are caught, you are to put this into your mouth and bite down on it. You will be dead within seconds. It is to protect you from torture, and especially the possibility of you giving information that would jeopardize our operations and compromise our agents in the field. Your captors will use vile methods to extract information from you, on the promise that you will go free if you give in; but you won’t go free. As soon as they get the information they want, they will shoot you.’
Sibbie’s blood had run cold. For the first time, the realization of what she had let herself in for truly hit her. But then the knowledge had come to her that she was ready to carry it all through. If she had been given this stark reality at the beginning of her training, she doubted she could have gone on. But as she had stood there and accepted the pill, and felt her first reaction of terror fading, she’d known that she had the courage to go forward.
Marjie cut into her thoughts. ‘We have no contact network in place with the Maquis, Sibbie. All this time here – and nothing. Then this. Something is wrong, I can feel it.’
Madame surprised them then by saying, ‘I have a contact. Leave it with me. I’ll get an order ready for you to take to Monsieur Siet, and the message for him will be hidden within it. Oh, don’t worry, it is nothing that can be suspected – no note, just a certain number of an item, which will tell him there is something amiss and that he must come and see me. He will know if this is genuine, and what to do.’
Sibbie sighed with relief – not only that they had a way of verifying the message, but that Madame was clearly far more than they had first thought her to be. She was part of the Resistance, that was clear, otherwise she wouldn’t be a party to such codes. The fact that she’d never revealed this, despite knowing why they were here, boded well.
In her fifties and elegant, Madame Bachelet had been widowed for ten years. Jacques was her only child. Still beautiful, with pearl-like skin that didn’t sag, but was held taut and smooth by her high cheekbones, Madame must have been stunning as a young girl, Sibbie thought. Even in her wraparound apron, she looked sophisticated. Slim and with the figure of a much younger woman, she had very dark hair, which she wore swept back off her face and caught into a roll, rather than in a bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were fascinating; hazel-coloured, but with dark-brown flecks, they were large and bright and gave the impression that Madame knew everything and could see into your soul.
With the order ready, it was decided that Sibbie should take it to Monsieur Siet. She’d delivered his orders before, and wondered now how many of them had contained a code. She didn’t have to ask why a code was needed. Monsieur Siet lived in a tenement block on the rue du Capitole near the railway station. In the overcrowded building there was never a moment when she had been there that she hadn’t seen a lot of people, so it would have been dangerous to pass notes on or to speak anything other than casual greetings.
Never before had Sibbie felt this nervous when travelling around Narbonne. She often cycled around, enjoying the sights and smells; and despite the fear that accompanied the war, its people were lively and colourful and she felt it was a vibrant place. The gendarmes were a huge presence and were feared by everyone. It wasn’t unusual to see them suddenly stop someone, search them and bundle them into their van. Sibbie always felt nervous when passing them, but so far they hadn’t bothered with her.
The city of Narbonne itself was very attractive, with its magnificent cathedral dominating it from its high vantage point. The buildings that lined the streets were tall and elegant; mainly white, they had many windows and ornate facades. Their ground-floor rooms were shops and restaurants, with brightly coloured canopies extending over the tables and chairs set on the pavement.
The lovely River Aude rippled down from the Pyrenees through Carcassonne and reached the Mediterranean via Narbonne. Sibbie and Marjie often cycled along its route to the sandy beaches that dotted the coastline.
As Sibbie cycled down rue du Capitole, she began to feel less afraid. No one was taking any notice of her. No curious eyes were watching, there were no suspicious-looking figures on street corners and definitely no one following her. And, what was most reassuring, she passed a group of gendarmes and, apart from them glancing at her, none of them showed any interest in her.
Within an hour of Sibbie’s return, a communication arrived to say everything was all right and the message was genuine. Mystified, but obeying orders, Sibbie and Marjie stood outside the cathedral at the allotted time and waited.
‘I’m still nervous about this, Sibbie. How will we be picked up, and by whom? And why in broad daylight?’
Sibbie didn’t have a chance to answer before a car pulled up in front of them. The driver – a man in his fifties wearing a trilby-type hat and a smart suit, and a stranger to them – wound his window down. ‘Are you expecting Arnie?’
Sibbie nodded.
‘Get in the back.’
Once they were settled, the driver set off at a normal pace. ‘If we are stopped and questioned, which is unlikely, then I am Monsieur Dubret. I run a taxi service, which is often used by the officials. I am taking you to have tea with my daughter Renée, who is the same age as you. Renée met you in your aunt’s shop and you became friends. She works in the office of the gendarmes. You know very little else about her, as your friendship is only just beginning. Understand?’
They both said, ‘Oui.’ The cover story was simple to remember, and Sibbie could tell that, like her, Marjie had relaxed, although she did squeeze Sibbie’s hand and give some indication of the excitement she was feeling. Sibbie understood, as she too was excited, in an anticipatory way. Although it would be lovely to see Uncle Arnie – and, hopefully, Uncle Cyrus – her main hope against hope was that Paulo would be present.
They were dropped off, a little over an hour later, near the edge of a forest that surrounded Marjie’s former home close to Laurens. ‘Follow that path and you will be met – good luck! Oh, by the way, you will become friends with my Renée, and she will be very useful to you. She learns much, in her job.’
‘We will look forward to that, Monsieur Dubret. Please give our regards to Renée.’
The man smiled and drove off.
They hadn’t gone far down the path when a low whistle attracted them. Turning towards the direction of the sound, Sibbie felt her heart soar. ‘Paulo!’ Then shyness overcame her. Never had she been in his presence knowing of his love for her. His arms opened and her shyness dissolved as she ran towards him. ‘Sibbie, mon Sibbie – at last. I have dreamed of this moment, mon amour.’
For Sibbie, her life felt complete as Paulo held her close. The words she’d longed to say to him came naturally to her. ‘I love you, Paulo. I love you.’
Paulo looked deep into her eyes. ‘I have waited for so long to hear that. I wish things were different and we could be together, as we are meant to be. I love you so much, my Sibbie. Thoughts of you are the only thing that has kept me going.’
‘Oh, Paulo, you have been in my mind and heart forever, but from the moment I received your letter, I have done everything to be near to you.’
‘We’re together now, darling. We’ll work together to help bring this conflict to a close, and then it will be our time. But now we will have to join the others.’
Sibbie turned. ‘Oh, where’s Marjie? She was with me.’
‘It was all arranged, to give us a few moments. As soon as you joined me, Marjie was beckoned away by her father and she will be enjoying a reunion with him.’
This warmed Sibbie’s heart. ‘I’m so glad to be here, Paulo, but why go against the orders of HQ? You frightened us by contacting us, and the message not coming through them.’
‘It was your final test, darling. HQ needed to know that you were fully alert to anything that might be a trap. They instructed us that we were not to contact you for a while, and then to do so in an unconventional manner. If you simply obeyed, you would have been air-lifted out and found yourselves in a desk job somewhere in England. But you both did exactly what was expected of you. You questioned the implications of the order. Madame Bachelet was fully aware of the ruse and was instructed to further alarm you, if she could.’
This brought Sibbie such a sense of relief. ‘Oh, thank God. I’ve been worried out of my mind, even suspecting Madame Bachelet and Monsieur Siet. And Madame did alarm us. She expressed concern that she hadn’t been given a cover story.’
‘Good. But don’t worry – she had been given one. An old great-aunt of the family has fallen sick and needs help. You two are the only relatives who can help her. You will be back when she has recovered. I’m so sorry that you felt such panic; it was out of my control, and all I could do was pray that you came through the test – and you have. Oh, Sibbie, my Sibbie.’
Paulo’s lips came down on hers. If she’d thought her world complete, she knew now that being in Paulo’s arms was only part of that completion, for his kiss awoke longings in her that showed her there was more to learn, and that one day there would be a blossoming of her true self, and the fulfilment of who she was.
Clinging to Paulo and never wanting to let him go, she made her way with him to join the others. After a wonderful greeting from her Uncle Cyrus and Uncle Arnie, and catching them up with the news they had of Flors and Mags, there was a moment when they all fell silent.
Arnie broke the silence. ‘Our world – our happy world – has tumbled around us. All we can do is fight to regain what we can of it. I think it’s time we told the girls what we want of them.’ All of them nodded. ‘It is vital that we rescue my darling Ella and Lonia. We’ve had intelligence that the Jews in the camp where she is have been discovered, and are to be rounded up and taken to Drancy – a concentration camp in the north-east of Paris. It is known as a holding camp, and from there they . . . Oh God, they . . .’
Tears were streaming down Arnie’s face. Paulo grabbed hold of him and supported him. Sibbie looked at Marjie. Her father held her in his arms, and both were crying. Sibbie’s heart was breaking for them all. Tears stung her eyes, but she knew that the facts had to be faced, and she must be strong for them all. ‘How and when will they transport them, Uncle Arnie? Have we information on this?’
Arnie straightened. Paulo wiped the tears that had been cascading down his own face and told her, ‘My mama and Lonia could possibly be on the train that we know will leave Vittel in two days’ time. We have to rescue them, and all the Jews, although we cannot offer much assistance to others, after this.’
Arnie had now composed himself. ‘We know that the train will pass through Troyes at seven p.m. We plan to attack it, on the Paris side. We will set detonators to slow its progress, but not derail it, and then mount a surprise attack. You are both trained in this technique and we need you to carry out the detonation.’
‘We carry plastic explosives, but we will have to work out how much is needed, so as not to blow the whole train.’
‘I don’t think that is possible, Marjie. Is there a bridge we can blow up? We could do it when the train is in view of it, although it would need to be from a distance, so that the train can stop in time.’
‘Sibbie is right. I worked with explosives in the last war.’ Cyrus held their attention, ‘It is much better to create an obstruction that they know about, and have to halt. It is almost impossible to judge how to stop the train without causing a major derailment.’
‘André will know if there is a bridge. He is from that area. You remember him, Marjie, he was at school with you.’
‘Yes, I do of course. I haven’t seen him since then, but it will be good to see him again.’
Arnie took charge once more, stopping any further reminiscences. ‘Right, here is the plan. Paulo, you make contact with André. Find out where the best point is for us to disrupt the progress of the train. Also a good meeting point for all the Maquis who are willing to travel there and join in the attack. Each must make his or her own way. I will arrange for weapons and ammunition to be dispatched to that point. I will also make contact with the Resistance in the Troyes area – there is a good group there.’
‘Communists.’
‘Yes, communists, Paulo, but at the end of the day they want the same as us and are clever and ferocious fighters. We need them. We do not know how many guards will be on the train.’
Paulo nodded his head.
‘Good. Now, we must meet André tonight and I will arrange for him to be attached to this camp. We’ll meet at Monsieur Bijour’s farm. Sibbie, you and Marjella will come along with me and Cyrus. We are camped deep in the forest.’ Smiling now, he joked, ‘We have every modern convenience.’
Cyrus laughed. ‘Ha! A hole in the ground, he means. But don’t worry; we have prepared for you and have portioned off a bedroom space, with an en-suite hole.’
At this they all laughed. Paulo’s hand came into Sibbie’s. ‘I can walk a little way with you, then I will have to cut off up a different path, but we will meet up in Troyes.’ They had dropped back a little way when he spoke again. ‘How long have you known that you loved me, Sibbie?’
‘Mmm, I think I was thirteen, and Monty was teasing me and almost had me in tears. You stopped him, not in an angry way, but by making him see that he was causing me distress. Monty walked away, and you put your arm around me and asked if I was all right. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to marry you.’
‘I have always felt a strong attachment to you, but I didn’t imagine you could feel anything for me. When you reached sixteen, I vowed I would tell you, but I chickened out, for fear of your rejection. But you know now, and I am so happy that you love me, too.’
‘Oh, Paulo, if only things were different.’
Paulo pulled her to him. They looked into each other’s eyes. His kiss thrilled Sibbie, and yet lit a sadness in her heart. For their future was so uncertain, and their lives were in such danger, that they didn’t know if they would ever be together as they wished to be.