CHESHIRE, FEBRUARY 1941
FINDING HER TRUE SELF
The train chugged along. Resting her eyes on the white-coated countryside of Cheshire as it sped by, Alice’s thoughts focused on trying to put in order the events of the last few weeks. Gruelling training in the Highlands had left her feeling exhausted at first, but, after a time, exhilarated and fitter than she’d ever been.
She had acquired knowledge and learned new skills in things she never thought she would be called upon to learn: how to undo handcuffs with a piece of thin wire and a diary pencil, and how to kill a man with a knife. Please, please, God, don’t let such an occasion happen. But should I ever face this situation, give me strength to follow through and do what is best for most people, whatever the circumstances.
She had said this prayer so many times, but deep inside her she knew the futility of the first plea. The very nature of her job would put her in a position of carrying out such an abhorrent act. At this moment she didn’t know if she could.
But, despite her concerns, she was proud of how well she’d done in her training. She’d gained passes in everything she had been taught, and was now on her way to Parachute Training School at RAF Ringway. With nervousness a constant companion, but not causing her to waver, she knew she had chosen the right path for herself.
After this final part of preparation the only remaining thing to do was to pick up the papers for her new identity and the clothes being made for her – clothes designed to help her blend in. And that would be it – she would be off to Paris to begin her assignment.
Her links to France were not strong. Her grandmother had died a long time ago, and she’d never cared for her Uncle Philippe and his wife, or her cousins, who all seemed to consider themselves a cut above everyone else, so she hadn’t visited them since her schooldays. Nevertheless, she still felt an affinity with France.
As the train moved along, her mind wondered, as it often did when she thought of her Uncle Philippe. She’d try to picture her father. She knew the brothers had looked similar, with the same blondish hair as herself. They were also tall and handsome, and yet Philippe had calculating eyes, whilst in the picture she had of her father his eyes held a gentleness, and yes, an honesty. Surely he couldn’t have been a traitor. A shudder rippled through her. Don’t! Don’t think about that. Let the memories die.
‘Altrincham and Bowdon station!’ The voice of the guard became louder and then faded away as he walked up and down the corridor of the train. It warned her that she had arrived and provided the distraction she needed. She didn’t know exactly what would happen next, but at least she would be in the right place at the designated time. Hauling down her suitcase, she stepped onto the platform.
‘This way, Miss.’
The smoke from the train curled upwards, enveloping the man who’d spoken, but after a second he came fully into view. Despite wearing plain clothes, she knew this was a soldier by the clipping of his heels, though he stopped short of saluting. Not knowing his rank and not wanting anyone to know she was army personnel, she proceeded with care.
‘I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person. I am visiting my aunt, and she hasn’t said she would send anyone to meet me.’
Skirting round him, she felt very alone as her heels echoed on the stone slabs, even though a crowd of people milled around her. Cold bit into her cheeks as she wove in and out of them, keeping her walk steady and unhurried, in an effort not to show the alarm she felt. A shrill whistle to her side made her jump. Stop it! Act natural – you’re on a station, idiot! The guards blow whistles . . . It’s what they do!
She put her case down and took a deep breath. Somehow she had to check she wasn’t being followed. Slipping her shoe off, she emptied a pretend stone from it. It wasn’t the best idea she’d had, as her stockinged toes stuck to the iced slabs of the platform. Wriggling them, they came free. Beads of sweat trickled down her neck, warm and uncomfortable on her cold skin as she took a quick glance around. But no, the man who had surprised her wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Maybe he had just thought she was someone else and there was nothing sinister in his approaching her after all.
The same voice came from behind her, though quieter, as the sound of the train’s wheels chugging into motion drowned it a little. ‘It’s not my usual chat-up line, but can I assist you? Carry your case maybe? Or even give you a lift somewhere?’
Relief flooded through her. The first part of what he’d said was one of the coded sentences she been taught. But if he is meant to connect with me, why did he not use one of the phrases straight away?
Still feeling the edge of her nerves, she answered in the way she should, incorporating another coded phrase into her reply. ‘I would be grateful, thank you – for the lift, that is, not the chat-up line. I am not open to one of those.’
In an even lower voice he said, ‘Steve Henderson. This way.’
She’d almost said, ‘Alice D’Olivier’, but decided to use her alias. They’d had it drummed into them that they would be tested on their ability to keep their cover many times before they left these shores.
‘Madeline Fontes.’
‘Well done, old thing, that’s twice I tried to trick you. Come on, Madeline, I have a car at the front of the station – we’ll talk when we’re in it.’
As she followed him, the tension in her settled a little. Her first test, and she hadn’t faltered. Perhaps she’d taken in more than she’d realized, as this job wasn’t just about having the knowledge, but about putting everything into practice and living the role. She’d just done that, and although she’d felt fear, she hadn’t let herself down.
Madeline, I think you and I will do well together, she told her namesake. A smile played around her lips as she thought of the baby girl whose name she’d taken, and to whom she’d often talked like this. It had helped her, as it wasn’t easy assuming someone else’s identity, especially a baby’s. Talking to her made it feel that they were in this together.
The real Madeline had died at six months old, but now has a documented, false life. Born in the south of France in the same week that she herself had been born in London, Madeline had died in Russia, where her father and mother had gone to live with her mother’s family.
But now Madeline’s life reads as if she didn’t die, but her French grandparents went to Russia to try to persuade their son to come home, although he wouldn’t leave his wife. They kidnapped the child, only two years old at the time, in a desperate attempt to make their son leave the ever-threatening circumstances in Russia, amidst the fear that no one would be allowed out of that country in the near future. The story goes that it didn’t work – their son did not follow – and they brought their grandchild up in France, never hearing from their son again.
Madeline is supposed to have met a Gertrude Alberto at university, and they developed a friendship whilst they studied languages. She is also supposed to have been to Gertrude’s home on several occasions. Though none of this happened, Gertrude Alberto and her family are real, as are their circumstances. The plan is now to place Alice with the Albertos once she is in France, under the pretence that her grandmother has died, leaving her without a home. According to the guide notes, Madeline went to see her friend Gertrude, but found that she had gone missing. Gertrude’s mother took Madeline in until she found work.
In truth, Gertrude and her brother Juste work with the Resistance group that she is to be assigned to. Juste will meet Alice when she is dropped into France and will take her to their home. Once there, she will be briefed about what position Juste has found her in Paris and will move into a safe house, which he will have secured for her. He will also bring her up to date on the group’s activities and its members.
Without prompting, Bren suddenly rose to mind. A picture of his smiling, concerned face, only minutes before the bomb took him from her, filled her thoughts. She could almost feel the love he had for her.
A poem she’d written for him six weeks after his death was going to be her special code when she contacted headquarters by radio. She remembered how, the day she’d composed the words, she’d run to the bottom of her garden at home and squeezed herself into the treehouse that the gardener had made for her when she was a child. When Bren came to play they had loved to hide away in it. There she’d scribbled her thoughts:
I’m like a stone covered in moss
For time has stagnated me
The layers have locked in the pain of your loss
And you, and you alone, hold the key.
Sobs had prevented her from saying the words out loud then, but now she would say them with pride whenever she needed to and know that Bren would be with her, looking after her.
Layers of moss. She’d been almost able to feel them, and they hadn’t dropped away until she’d begun her training. Then she’d started to feel less encumbered by her grief and more able to cope.
Henderson’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Here we are, Madeline. Jump in, I’ll put your case in the boot and crank the engine.’
‘No . . . I mean, thank you, but I prefer to have my case in here with me.’
‘Of course.’
At times the roads were tricky. Glistening ice caused the back wheels of the car to slide around, bringing Alice’s heart into her mouth. Steve made light of it, his easy conversation relaxing her a little, but still she was careful not to divulge any personal information to him.
‘Steve’s my real name, by the way. I’m a solicitor, working in London – or, rather, I was. I was called up, went for my officer training at Sandhurst and was then commissioned into the SOE – one of the first, I pioneered some of the training. Oh, not the running up and down the hills, but the technical stuff.’
‘Well, thanks for that; couldn’t you have made it more difficult?’
His laugh had a nice sound. He was one of life’s tall men (she thought him around six foot one) and had a foreign look about him: dark hair slicked back with Brylcreem, olive-coloured skin tone and very dark eyes. Even his moustache had a continental look, if there was such a thing for a moustache. He was a Clark Gable lookalike. She liked that – Gone with the Wind was a wonderful film. She’d seen the premiere of it in April last year and it had her falling in love with Rhett Butler.
Becoming serious, Steve said, ‘Well, when I realized the danger that agents would be in, I felt the same as the main body in charge of training. That we – and I mean we, in the sense that I too am to work in the field – should be elite in our knowledge and expertise. We will need more than just physical fitness to give us the best possible chance to do our job, and to remain safe. Unfortunately we need parachute training too. I have been too busy to do this before now. It is the only part of the job that frightens me. I am dreading it. What about you? Does jumping from a great height terrify you, too?’
‘No, I have always wanted to do it. I didn’t get much adventure time as a child, just a few make-believes that Bren and I used to play.’
‘Bren?’
His question held a note of disappointment.
‘Yes, my lifelong friend who became my fiancé . . . He was killed.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
He sounded relieved. This made her look at him again. This time not as a stranger to be wary of, but just as a man. Something about him touched a part of her.
‘Have I passed?’ His voice held amusement.
Embarrassment flushed her cheeks, ‘Oh . . . sorry, I – I didn’t mean to stare.’
Again his laughter filled the car. She liked him. And knew she could trust him. But no, she’d been told not to trust anyone. Not even if it was Churchill himself . . . I wonder if Steve trusts me. And if he really is Steve Henderson even?
A smoke-hazed layer hung above the crowd. The music excited her, as jazz tones filled the officers’ mess – a low building that looked more like a hut, but whose interior belied this, with its highly polished floors and furniture more suitable to a gentlemen’s club. In a way that is what it had been before the war, as the army had mostly been a man’s domain. Tomorrow they shipped out to their various postings. Tonight they would enjoy themselves. The laughter, high and shrill, held merriment, but in its depth a fear of the unknown filtered through. This was a good bunch of young people, all willing to risk their lives for their country. All afraid, but none willing to give in to that fear. Alice knew she stood in a room full of courageous people.
The last six weeks of training had been all she’d hoped it would be. Falling from the sky gave her a feeling of freedom that she’d never thought she could experience, and now she was truly ready for whatever the future held for her.
‘Alice, will you dance with me?’
She didn’t have to think about it, but placed her gin and tonic on the table and glided into Steve’s arms. They tightened around her. Nothing in her wanted to resist. His head snuggled into her neck, awakening feelings inside that gave her sensations she’d never really let herself explore. This body of hers shocked her and betrayed her, as it let in now what it had always locked out. Regret nudged itself into her at the thought that she’d never felt like this with Bren, and he’d wanted her to. He’d tried so hard to make her feel what Steve evoked without even trying. Why was that?
‘You all right, Alice?’
His voice held the feelings that had gripped her – emotion and, yes, desire.
‘Oh, Steve, hold me.’ The plea had a depth that he didn’t question. Her body snuggled into his, swayed with his, felt his need and gave back her need for him.
There was no choice. Steve had guided them towards the exit door and they slipped through it. Their bodies shivered in the cool night air. Taking her hand, he ran across the lawn with her towards the light of their accommodation block.
The rules against females being in the men’s quarters added to her excitement. No one had seen them leave. All were caught up in trying to enjoy their last night on British soil, and those who weren’t going were jollying along those who were – talking about anything and everything, drinking, dancing and trying to keep things normal.
But things were far from normal for her. She’d broken out. She was no longer the tight bundle of coldness she’d been before. Now a fire lit every part of her, making her aware of herself in a way she had never been before. As Steve pulled her to him and kissed her, the transformation completed itself as the last thread that held her to her old self exploded.
‘I love you, Alice. I don’t know how it happened. You are part of me. I love your funny little ways, even how you sometimes don’t seem to be inside your own body, but far away, as that doesn’t exclude me, but just says you have things to deal with. I love your humour, your sense of justice – oh, everything! I love the person that you are. I love you, Alice. Oh, Alice . . . Alice . . .’
This whispering of her name set free a feeling inside her, as if he’d turned the key to release her emotions, which had been imprisoned for so long. Her spirit soared with joy. ‘Steve, my Steve . . .’
His hands caressed her and his lips kissed her and gently took little bits of her skin into his mouth, as he took each article of her clothing from her. Though unsure of herself and what to do for him, she responded to him.
As if sensing her ignorance, he guided her. Nothing repulsed her, nothing closed her. She opened to his love, to his need and to her own. When his hand touched the heart of her womanhood, she felt she would burst with the ecstasy of the near-agony waving through her. Feeling his fingers probing her, she writhed her body towards him, urging him to take her. She knew there would be pain, but she was ready for it. She needed it.
When he did enter her, she felt a moment of discomfort. A stretching and a soreness. But his gentleness helped. When at last his thrust took him deep into her, all her pain disappeared. Her very soul fragmented with the love and joy that surged through her. ‘Steve, my love; oh, Steve . . . yes . . . yes . . . Oh, Steve.’
She clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him, and drank in his moans, his cries of love, as together they gave and took a pleasure that she’d never thought would be part of her life. But suddenly that pleasure changed. Something in her began to build – a sensation stronger than the others. Afraid of it, she held back, not sure how to deal with it; she knew it would consume her if she allowed it. But Steve had no heed for this fear and his voice whispered, ‘Let it happen, my darling, let it come. Come with me . . .’ As he spoke, she felt his warm breath on her neck and the heightened feeling began to take her over. This new sensation was so powerful that it felt as if it was splintering the very fibre of her. She was left at its mercy as it throbbed through every part of her. She let out animal cries of sheer abandonment as the feeling tore through her soul and gave itself to this man – her Steve, her love, her life.
When it subsided her whole self was broken, and yet newly born. Lying limp beneath him, she felt his last thrusts, expecting . . . waiting . . . But at that moment he pulled out of her, before slumping down on top of her. His deep guttural moans told her that he had reached his peak.
‘Oh, Steve, I didn’t want you to leave me. I wanted to be joined to you at that moment.’
‘I know, I wanted to stay with you, to give you all of me, my darling, but I couldn’t. The consequences . . .’
‘Of course. Oh, darling, I’m not complaining. I just wanted to have you in me, to take you with me as part of my body.’
‘Sweetheart, it will happen one day, but now is not the right time. Come here, my darling, let me hold you and soothe the disappointment.’
The warm dampness of his body enclosed her and banished the niggling sensation of something missing. ‘I love you, Steve. I love you like I have never loved anyone in all my life. I have let you through the barrier that held me from giving all that I am and, now it has gone, I am yours – you are in my soul. And there you will always be. Oh, darling, I cannot bear to part with you.’
‘I know. But, Alice, I . . . well, I want you to know that I understand if Bren is still in your heart, and that is fine. I wouldn’t want him not to be.’
‘Poor darling, he never had from me what I give to you. I don’t mean what we just did, but the inner me. Oh, there is a lot to tell.’
‘I have guessed that you have been deeply hurt. That things happened to you that shouldn’t have happened. But I realized Bren had never known and experienced the real you. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready to. And, Alice, I hadn’t realized you were a virgin. It was such a joy to me to know you were – not that it would have mattered, in the circumstances. I knew you had been engaged to be married, but, well . . . I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘No more than I thought would happen. In fact a lot less than I expected, but it was only momentarily. I’m so happy, Steve. And yet very unhappy. Tomorrow is like a terrifying, deep, dark tunnel that I know I have to enter without you.’
‘Tomorrow is tomorrow. Let’s always have tonight.’
‘Will you do something for me? Each night look up at the stars and remember tonight. I will do the same. Try to look out at around ten p.m. here, and know that I am looking at them and remembering, too.’
‘That’s lovely, Alice, it will bring us together. I love you, darling. I . . .’
His kiss drowned out what he was going to say. A gentle kiss that took on a passion greater than she’d just known and, as they moved together for a second time, he gave all of himself to her, she could feel that – she relished it, and took him to her in a way that sealed what they both knew: that no matter what the future brought, this deep love would always be there.
They had to shout to be heard above the drone of the aircraft. How soon the time had come to be dropped into France. Alice didn’t know whether the wobbly feeling in her stomach was because of her forthcoming jump and not knowing what the outcome would be, or because she was to part from Steve. She looked over at him. His nerves showed in his face. Every parachute jump they’d done had been an agony to him. He hated every minute of it, from the moment the hatch opened and the rush of air hit them, to the crawling towards the opening and then looking down at the toytowns below. But then he had admitted to her that the adrenalin rush took over as he launched himself into thin air. She knew what he meant and wished she could take away his terror of the rest of it.
His gaze on her told her so much. She tried to convey the same, but now – surrounded by others who were taking this nerve-racking step into the unknown – wasn’t the time to put into words what they felt. They’d done that last night.
Staying in the circle of his arms, she’d calmed, but not for long. Soon, to the demands of Steve wanting her once more, the desire inside her had been quickly rekindled, as if a pilot light had flickered within her and burst into life, once triggered. This had been the pattern of the most wonderful few hours of her life, until with a deep sadness they accepted that they had to part. She’d had to get back to her own room before morning broke. Once safely outside, they had clung together in a hug that tied the last of the cords that bound them so tightly. Cords that she knew would never break.
‘Right. Ma’am, you’re next. Good luck!’
The cold air stung her face and rasped the inside of her lungs. A tear seeped out of her eye. Responding to the word ‘Go!’ she threw herself into the jump. Her heart pounded in her ears. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t . . . she didn’t want to. But then her training kicked in and she pulled the cord. A peace filled her as she soared towards the ground. Yes, I can, and I will.
Her poem went through her head. It didn’t just belong to Bren now. It was Steve’s, too. The two men in her life, whom she loved in different ways, would be with her every time she said the words. And that would get her through all that was to come.