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I need to come up with a Plan B when it comes to the money. And I need to come up with it quickly.
As for Jess—I’m not ready to give up on her yet. I’ll fight for her once I get back from this weekend’s Warriors excursion.
She’s the only woman I want.
46
Angelique
July 1943
France
* * *
The night after returning from Paris, Johann, Jacques, and I sit in front of Johann’s radio, waiting for the BBC French broadcast to begin. Johann and I are sitting on the faded settee, our bodies not touching.
My muscles are still tense from yesterday when we witnessed the Milice capture the man who had been in the hotel where Johann and I stayed. That was not the first time I’d witnessed the brutality of the Milice or SS or Gestapo. They take great pleasure in ensuring their cruelty is seen. What better way to ensure the French people keep in line?
But why did he look so bloody familiar?
The question has replayed in my head countless times since I saw the man arrested yesterday. Perhaps I’ve seen him during one of my visits to Paris. But he had to have done something notable for him to stand out in my mind. And why did he appear to know me? In that briefest moment when our eyes locked, I had a feeling he recognised me too.
I think back to my months of SOE training, and that’s when it all slips into place. He had just completed his training when I was new to the program, and he’d left for his mission well before I left for mine. I didn’t realise he was still in France.
An icy shiver runs through me at what happened to him. Ever since I landed on occupied soil, the enemy has come close to capturing me on so many occasions. Does this mean my turn is imminent? Will my fate mirror his?
A fate that will end with my tortured body dumped somewhere, my remains possibly never identified. Hazel won’t even know what happened to me. She won’t know I loved her.
If I could, I’d write her a letter to be passed on to her should I die. But that is not feasible. It would be too dangerous for the person with the message, for Hazel should it fall into enemy hands.
I don’t regret for a second being in France, doing what I can to end the war. I would do it all again, even if things had gone down differently between Charles and me. I just wouldn’t have fallen in love with Johann.
No, that is not true. I would have still fallen in love with him. Nothing would change how Charles and I were wrong for each other.
Neither Johann nor I told Jacques what we witnessed yesterday outside the hotel. Like everyone in France, he knows what the enemy is capable of. He doesn’t need the reminder. He’s tense enough as it is.
The Morse code Dot. Dot. Dot. Dash emits from the radio, signalling the broadcast is beginning.
“Ici Londres! Les Français parlent aux Français.”
The broadcast continues with the usual contents: the update on what is happening in the world, the political commentaries, the poetry, a comical play about Hitler being a foolish clown, the calls for France to fight the enemy, to not let the enemy destroy the country like an out-of-control disease.
And then comes the moment we’re waiting for.
Cumquats make delicious squirrel pastry.
The elephants are rampant in July.
The monkeys are dancing on rainbows.
My breath whooshes out of me. “They made it,” I say in a daze. “They made it. They’re safe.” I grin at Johann. “Oskar, Margrit, and Sonja all made it to safety. They’re alive.”
“Thank God!” he says on a hard exhalation, and we jump to our feet, embracing.
Johann squeezes me tighter. “Thank you.” He releases me and turns to Jacques. “And thank you for everything you did for them. You could have turned them in, which is what some people would have done. But you didn’t. You didn’t turn them in, even though they’re Jewish, and you didn’t turn me in for helping them. Thank you.”
“Didn’t see any point in doing that,” Jacques responds gruffly, but there is no missing the slight quirk of his lips on his weathered face. “The Germans would execute you, and then we would be forced out of this house when another German took your place.” He glances around the drawing room, sadness weighing down the corners of his mouth. “And I would lose what’s left of my memories of my wife and family.”
