Chapter 1
It had been late afternoon when she saw the first stranger. She was serving in the café as normal, when she saw him talking to Jean-Pierre outside. Nothing unusual in that, many strangers made their first contact over a coffee. It was only later that she was startled by a familiar face. Her heart had began to pound, it couldn't be him surely. She must have been mistaken. This was France and he was in America.
Her shift had finished and it was getting dark as she walked home, hurrying before the curfew. As she passed the alley that led to one of the safe houses, she noticed a truck half hidden in the shadows. A group of men were silently slipping from the truck to the safe house. As the door opened, one of the men looked around furtively. He looked so familiar, she almost stopped to stare but he was gone in an instant.
She should have spoken to Jean-Pierre but there was no time, she had to know now, the men may be gone by the morning. Quickly changing into dark trousers, shirt and jacket, she twisted her hair up under her cap. Then made her way carefully towards the safe house, using the shadows and back lanes. She had been in Northern France for nearly three years now and it was easy to find her way around, unnoticed by the Germans, even at night. As she approached the back of the building, the truck hidden in the shadows in the alley, moved off. Was she too late?
The safe house was an old garage with a small office at the back. The large garage doors rarely opened these days but a small door in the woodwork allowed individual access. Beside the office, at the back of the garage, was another door which opened onto the river bank and a bridge leading to the woods beyond - an easy escape route if necessary. She had approached from this side and crept carefully towards the back wall and door. There were people inside, murmured voices filtered through the woodwork and a pale glow from the window suggested a covered lamp or torch had been illuminated. She let out her breath slowly, hadn't realised she was so on edge. She moved forward and tried to listen but the voices were so muffled it was impossible to tell the nationality or how many were there. She knew she shouldn't be here but something drove her on. Slowly, carefully, she leant against the wooden frame, trying to hear something that would tell her she had been wrong. Too late she realised she had let her guard down. A light footfall behind her, as the cold metal barrel of a gun pressed into the back of her neck.
''Move.'' A man pushed her towards the door, through and into the office. Two men looked up startled.
''Look what I found outside.'' The voice was English with a hint of New York. The two other men had been pouring over a map which they quickly covered. They looked her over in surprise.
''He's just some kid,'' observed the shorter, stockier man
''Well that kid will have to stay here until you are ready to leave'' stated the taller fair-haired man. ''Where'd you find him? Anyone else out there?''
''He was listening under the window,'' replied the Englishman. ''Didn't see or 'ear anyone else though.''
''Ah, come on Warden, this ain't no kindergarten. What am I supposed to do with him?'' grumbled the stockier man.
''Just make sure he doesn't leave before you do, we don't need anyone else knowing we are here. Once you get the information from our contact, join us at the rendezvous. Right Goniff, grab your stuff and let's go.''
The taller man seemed to be the boss. There were only three men here, though someone may have left in the truck earlier, but now she really wasn't sure. They were obviously Americans, probably soldiers trapped behind enemy lines. As they had assumed she was a boy, she decided to play the part, safer that way. The man who had stayed behind pointed to a chair in the corner, furthest from the door. He took out a revolver.
''Sit and stay quiet, don't wanna have to use this.'' She played dumb and pretended she didn't understand but his meaning was clear as he checked and reloaded his gun.
The time passed slowly, the man was tense, checking the time and watching the door. Then she heard a light tread on the gravel behind the office wall. A series of knocks, a coded signal, before the rear door opened. Jean-Pierre cautiously entered the room to be met by the gun aimed at his head. Recognition and relief as both lowered their weapons.
Jean-Pierre glanced quickly around the room and caught sight of her in the shadows. ''You have company I see''.
''Yea, some kid creeping around outside. Know him?''
''Oui, I know h-him. Here are the documents and supplies for the Lieutenant. You will need to take care, there are many German patrols in the area. The door here opens out onto the river. Cross the bridge and follow the lane to the right, it will take you away from town and back to the main route. Bonne chance, mon ami''
''What about him?'' pointing to the corner.
''Don't worry, I will take care of h-him.'' With a slight nod the American slipped silently off into the night. Jean-Pierre rounded on the girl. ''What were you thinking of? You should never be out here alone without telling someone first. Who knows what might have happened. We can't afford to lose any more of our people''
She knew he was angry but also worried for her. Jean-Pierre and his group had looked after her, trained her, taught her French when she first arrived. She wouldn't have survived without them. She felt she had become a respected member of his group and didn't want to lose his trust now. ''I know, I'm sorry. I saw the group earlier and thought I recognised one of the men, someone from home. Do you know anything about this group?''
''Only that they are a small trained group who came to complete a mission and then return quickly back to England before they are intercepted. You know we are only given the information needed to help. Our orders were to pass on some information and get them all to the coast for pick up. They will be well on their way now.'' There was a finality about the way he said this and she knew not to ask any more. The American pilots they had hidden two weeks ago, had brought back memories of her former life. It was probably just wishful thinking but the memory of his face kept returning. She hadn't realised how much she missed him.