Page 2 of Echoes of Betrayal

Lizzie laughed and punched his upper arm gently. ‘That’s not fair. I can’t help it if Val sends me on dangerous missions. You know I’d rather be here with you.’

Jack leaned over to brush Lizzie’s lips with the lightest of kisses, as they both struggled to part after the wonderful day together. ‘I know, my love. I’m just teasing. Honestly, I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’ll be safe and out of reach of the blasted Boche.’

Lizzie lingered on the doorstep overlooking Regent’s Park until she saw Jack stop at the end of the road, when he waved and blew her a kiss before turning the corner and disappearing into the grey, foggy evening.

CHAPTER 2

The following morning, Lizzie stirred just as the grey winter light seeped through the blackout blinds. She stretched, and the realisation of what she must do flooded her consciousness. Val had already assigned her next mission to her, and today they would begin preparations for her official posting to Switzerland.

Wearing her FANY uniform—her official First Aid Nursing Yeomanry cover—she readied herself for another long day at Baker Street and hurried downstairs for breakfast. Pa beat her to it, as he usually did and was already at the table reading his newspaper.

‘Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?’ he asked, raising his eyes and smiling at Lizzie.

‘Very well, thank you, Pa. It is good to be home.’

Lizzie enquired about her father’s night’s sleep and settled into a chair at the breakfast table before reaching for a piece of toast and scraping it with a layer of homemade strawberry jam. Butter was scarce and wasn’t a patch on the creamy yellow heaven they had taken for granted in Jersey. One day she thought. One day, things would return to normal, and they’d enjoy all the lovely foods from her childhood. An image of her grandfather showing off Seagrove’s latest crop of Jersey Royal new potatoes popped into her mind.

‘Any news from Jersey? I have been meaning to ask.’

Pa’s eyes clouded over. ‘There have been reports of more deportations.’

‘Who?’ Lizzie asked.

‘A few British Jews still on the island, and the Jerries announced that residents not born there, and World War I veterans, are to be deported to internment camps in Germany.’

This would mean some of her parents’ dearest friends who had fought in the Great War would be deported from their own island. Lizzie’s toast turned to ashes on her tongue, and she struggled to swallow. Resting the half-eaten toast on the plate, she drained her coffee cup and fixed mournful green eyes on her father. Her appetite had deserted her, and she was sick at the thought of the poor families ripped apart by the command of the German occupying forces.

‘Will Nan and Pops be safe?’ she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Pa cleared his throat. ‘They should be fine. Fortunately for them, they were born in Jersey, are not Jews, and Pops was too old to fight in the war.’

‘I wish they would send us another note,’ she said. ‘We’ve sent several without hearing from them again.’

Pa patted Lizzie’s hand. ‘Try not to worry, my love. If there’s one thing of which we can be certain, it’s that if your grandparents are still permitted to send notes via the Red Cross, they will do so. The postal route is circuitous at best, and I imagine many go missing long before they reach the shores of England. Hopefully, a message will arrive soon.’

Lizzie’s sisters hadn’t appeared for breakfast yet, so Lizzie kissed her father goodbye, and her mother looped her arm through hers as she walked her to the front door.

‘Have a good day, darling, and take care. Will you be late tonight?’

Lizzie turned to adjust her hat in the hallway mirror. ‘Don’t wait up for me, Ma. I’m on night shift—there's lots to do. I’ll see you again soon, though. Don’t worry.’

Rose inclined her head and leant over to drop a kiss onto her daughter’s cheek. ‘If only it were that easy.’

‘I’m safe at the office. The only thing that might kill me is overwork.’ Lizzie laughed and planted a kiss on her mother’s furrowed brow. ‘Have a good day, Ma.’

‘It’s foggy again, so look where you’re going.’

It was just as well Ma didn’t know the truth about her work with the SOE if she was worried about a touch of fog over London.

Lizzie entered Regent’s Park, which was no longer protected by proud iron gates. Park gates and railings had been cut down for the war effort, and in their place stood stone stumps and ugly chain-link fencing.

It was a dry February morning and so far, the winter was milder than in the previous years since her family had moved to London in 1940. Lizzie preferred to walk to Baker Street when the weather permitted, and she took brisk steps along the path, gazing around the park as she walked.

The familiar barrage balloons loomed overhead in the grey sky like an ever-present reminder of war, and the ground was scarred by the bombs that rained down during the Blitz and was now dotted with RAF encampments and cordoned-off areas. The Victorian park had lost its pre-war glamour and served as a purely utilitarian space. The famous rose garden Lizzie had so admired on her first summer in London was stubbornly maintained, the last nod to the once elegant park, but now it lay barren in winter. As she walked deeper into the park, she passed what used to be ornamental flower gardens, converted to dedicated vegetable allotments. Londoners needed food more than flowers, but Lizzie’s soul yearned for the innocence of the park as she had witnessed it when she first arrived.

Much like the park, she had lost her innocence too. Now she was a war-hardened SOE agent who could kill a man in a few controlled moves. She shivered in the sudden wind that stirred the bare trees and whipped across the still lake, drawing her scarf closer around her neck and exiting the park. The grand stucco-fronted terraces lining the edge of the park were still imposing, but showed signs of damage and desperately needed maintenance. Lizzie knew that would have to wait until after the war.

It was a familiar refrain where everyone had put their lives and plans on hold for years until that magical day when the war would be over, and they would be free from the Nazi threat. The Germans had suffered a crushing defeat at Stalingrad, and a renewed sense of hope swept over Britain. Victory was within their sights and not a distant dream as it had been for so long.