It was morning when Noor’s train arrived in Paris. Miss Atkins had given her the address of her contact – someone called Garry. It was such a lovely day, Noor decided to walk to the apartment, to breathe Paris in after the years she’d been away.
There were still the majestic buildings, the wide avenues, and the tree-lined boulevards. But it felt different. The people walking about looked miserable and wary. They kept their heads down, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye. Many of the shops and restaurants were boarded up. Everywhere there were German signs, and banners with thick Gothic writing, and the black swastika like an evil spider.
A buzz came from behind her, growing louder. As she turned, six motorbikes roared up the road, ridden by German soldiers. The sunshine flashed off their helmets. They were followed by a procession of gleaming black motorcars, each one full of Nazi officers.
Noor’s heart began to thud against her ribs.
As the last car drew near, an officer inside stared at Noor. His eyes were icy blue and piercing beneath his cap. A cold smile twitched his lips.
I am Mademoiselle Renier, Noor said to herself. Jeanne Marie Renier. A children’s nurse.
Sweat gathered under her collar.
The car passed. Noor undid the top button of her blouse and pulled it away from her neck. That was the first time she’d actually seen the enemy, and the first time that the danger of her mission felt real.
Shivering now despite the warmth of the morning, Noor walked quickly to her contact’s address.
She found the apartment block easily, and climbed the stairs.
‘Oui? Yes?’ A young man answered her knock. He opened the door just a crack.
For some reason Noor thought she’d be meeting an old lady. She was so surprised to see a man that she forgot to give her password.
‘Er…I think I am expected,’ she said.
After hesitating a moment, the man let her in. It was only after some confusion that Noor realised that he was Garry, her contact.
Quickly, she rattled off her password. It was more of a pass sentence, it was so long: ‘Je viens de la part de votre ami Antoine pour des nouvelles au sujet de la Société en Bâtiment.’ This meant: ‘I have come on behalf of your friend Antoine for news on the building society.’
‘L’affaire est en cours. The business is in hand,’ he replied, laughing. ‘So you are Madeleine. For a moment there, I wasn’t sure.’
The SOE divided agents into groups, called circuits. Henri Garry was head of the Cinema circuit. His fiancée, Marguerite, who lived with him, was also involved. They were both so friendly, it wasn’t long before Noor was sitting down to dinner with them.
‘So you know Paris well?’ Marguerite asked Noor.
‘Oh yes,’ Noor said. ‘Before… before Abba, my father, died and we moved to London, we lived in Suresnes. You know, on the outskirts of the city? Father named the house Fazal Manzil, which means House of Blessing. My brothers and sister and I had a wonderful childhood there.’
She smiled, thinking of their games in the garden, of singing songs with Abba, of playing her harp.
‘My father was a Sufi priest,’ she continued. ‘He didn’t believe in violence. People came from all over the world to listen to him.’
‘Madeleine.’ Marguerite reached forward and touched her hand. ‘You mustn’t go back to that house. It’s far too dangerous. You might be recognised, and someone might betray you to the Germans.’
Noor nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said, moved by Marguerite’s concern.
‘You know Cinema is part of a bigger circuit, called Prosper?’ Garry asked Noor. ‘Prosper has been very successful so far. Recently, agents sabotaged the power station at Chaingy in the centre of France, and destroyed some of the power lines. Prosper also attacked German goods trains, and derailed them. Took out a number of Gestapo – don’t have the numbers yet.’
Noor thought about what he was saying. She would be part of all this soon.
‘And we’re planning many more attacks,’ Garry continued. ‘You’ll be working closely with the head of Prosper, and his radio operator, Archambaud. You can use his radio set until yours is parachuted in.’
He took a pot off the stove, grimaced as he poured some dark liquid out of it into a cup, and pushed the cup towards her.
‘Not coffee, I’m afraid. It’s a hideous mixture of roasted barley and chicory, but it’s all we can get. I can’t remember when I last had a proper cup of coffee.’
He was right. It tasted awful.
‘But at least it’s hot,’ Noor said. ‘And maybe if you don’t expect coffee you won’t be disappointed.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ Garry said with a smile, sitting down again. ‘So, in the next few days, I’ll be introducing you to the agents. Probably, meet France Antelme first. He’s head of Bricklayer circuit. And – ’
‘I think that’s enough for one night.’ Marguerite put her hand on Garry’s arm. ‘Poor Madeleine looks exhausted.’
She turned to Noor. ‘Why don’t you stay here tonight? We have a spare bedroom. It’s very small, but the bed’s comfortable.’
Noor really was worn out, and her head was spinning. She sank into the soft bed. So this was the beginning of her adventure. It was dangerous – radio operators didn’t last long – and people would be depending on her. Was she up to the job?