Thank you so much for reading and all your kind comments. I really appreciate your interest.

Chapter Five

The sound of her bicycle tyres rolling over rough gravel was all that George could hear as she pedalled along the remote forest track. She gazed up into a perfect blue sky and spotted a hawk high above her, gliding on the thermals in wide spirals and she envied its freedom. When she remembered the last summer of peace that she had spent in France before the war it seemed so long ago but even her time at the 'Finishing School' before being sent out here seemed a long time ago now.

George had been in France for four weeks and although it would be wrong to say that she had established a routine, as there was no regular pattern to her activities, she had at least settled into her role and the steps that she needed to take on a daily basis to keep herself safe were becoming second nature. She regularly relayed to Emile wireless messages transmitted from London and took responses and other messages back to Louis. He was having a difficult time and was being forced to move location on a frequent basis as the Germans were increasingly using radio detection vans in the area to seek out enemy wireless operators. He was careful and did everything he could to avoid detection but they all knew that wireless operators were vulnerable and George didn't envy him his job. In addition to the wireless traffic, George also passed messages and instructions from Emile to other resistance groups to help co-ordinate activities between them and collected and delivered small items from all over the area whenever they were needed.

After the incident with Major Weber on the train from Vercourt, Emile had thought it wise to keep George away from the Granville area for a while. It was obvious that she had made an impression upon him and, if what they were hearing was true, Weber was proving to be both determined and effective in his new posting. He might well have concluded that George had been lying to him that day on the train for a variety of reasons which could certainly have included being involved in covert activities. At all costs they wanted to minimise the possibility of George having the bad fortune to meet him again on her travels. She had therefore moved to a safe house further away, assumed the new identity of Marie Bouchard and was now ostensibly employed delivering groceries on her bicycle for a local shopkeeper who was sympathetic to the cause. The bicycle gave her the freedom to travel around a fairly large area independently and the job provided the cover story she needed.

On a lovely day like today, alone out here in the forest, she could almost imagine herself as free as the hawk in the sky and as the track started to run downhill she couldn't resist the impulse to have a little fun, lifting her feet from the pedals, stretching her legs out in front of her and allowing the bicycle to gain speed as it free-wheeled down the incline. The exhilaration of the speed and the rush of air, with her hair streaming out behind her brought a wide beaming smile to her face and she almost laughed out loud at the sensation. It was only as she reached the bottom of the small hill that she was jolted back to reality as a man dressed in dark trousers and a jacket, a cap on his head and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face stepped out from the cover of the trees with a rifle in his hands and pointed it directly at her.

George, startled by the man's appearance, hit the brakes hard and came to a sudden sliding stop. The heavy bicycle skidded sideways on the uneven gravel surface and to her horror she lost her balance and hit the ground with a heavy thud. Her left knee and elbow dragged painfully along the track and she ended up coming to rest in an undignified heap with the bicycle entangled in her legs and her skirt halfway up her thighs. The contents of the pannier had spilled onto the ground and her first thought was to try to gather them up as soon as she could. She sat up and tried to disentangle herself from the bicycle, conscious that the man was approaching.

"Nice to see you, Madeleine!"

She looked up to see Emile strolling towards her, pulling the scarf down from his face and pushing the cap onto the back of his head whilst looking as though he was trying not to laugh.

George was annoyed that he found her fall amusing although more annoyed that he had seen her larking about. She extricated herself from the bicycle and Emile reached out to take her hands and pull her to her feet. He could tell she was discomfited by the incident but he couldn't help commenting, "Enjoying yourself?"

He had been waiting in the trees for her to arrive and the sight of her free-wheeling down the hill, grinning from ear to ear had brought a smile to his face reminding him of the girl he had met in England two years ago.

She ignored the question. "Don't bother to ask if I hurt myself?"

She started brushing herself down and trying to straighten out her clothes. He watched her knowing it was wrong but he couldn't help loving that angry look in her eyes when she gazed at him. She had spirit. How could he not admire that even if this was the wrong time and place. He made the effort to sound more concerned as he asked, "Are you hurt?"

George turned her arm and inspected her elbow then pulled up her skirt to examine a graze on her knee but concluded it was nothing serious.

"I'll live."

She picked up her bicycle, made sure the handlebars were straight and the contents had been replaced in the pannier and then Emile jerked his head in the direction of the trees.

"This way."

He led her from the track through the trees and into the heart of woods.

"Any messages from London?"

George nodded, "They're sending someone, a sabotage expert and they're going to do a drop."

It was good news. Henri had returned from England last week with confirmation that London would back the operation the circuit had proposed. The news that they would be receiving a trained sabotage and explosives agent as well as supplies was exactly what they had been hoping for.

"We'll need to step up the training," Emile commented. "More work for you, Madeleine."

She didn't mind the long trips out to remote, secluded training areas and certainly not on days like this. Her physical fitness had stood her in good stead and she was equal to the task but even so she knew that the constant exercise combined with the fairly meagre rations had caused her to lose weight. Many of the clothes she had brought with her were already starting to hang loosely and it didn't look as if the situation would improve. She had spent most of her time during the past few weeks relaying information to and from various resistance group leaders but it was preferable to travelling on public transport or venturing into busy towns where there were always likely to be German agents. After four weeks she knew why she had been chosen for this job. It was much easier for women to move around without arousing suspicion. Young men like Emile were frequently subjected to searches and questioning and faced the danger of being deported for war work in Germany if they fell foul of any rules or regulations. It was safer for the job to be done by women but that meant working long hours and making long journeys.

George's job also brought her into frequent contact with Emile. Seldom more than two days went by without her being due at a rendezvous with him to receive instructions or pass on messages and she had gradually become used to the sight of him even if it irked her that he still made remarks when they were alone that reminded her of the past. The more she remembered the past the angrier she felt with herself for being so weak as to allow such thoughts to enter her head and as a consequence she couldn't help being sharp with Emile. She would rather he thought her bad-tempered than let him see the effect his words had upon her. She had, however, grudgingly come to respect his leadership skills: he had a strong natural instinct for making the right decisions, he was quick to size up situations and adept at managing the differing personalities within the circuit and the politics between the local resistance groups. She couldn't deny that he was doing a vital job here and having been faced with her unexpected arrival he had been professional as she was sure that he hadn't told anyone of their previous acquaintance. However, in moments when they were alone it was difficult to keep up the pretence in her own mind that there had never been anything more between them even if neither of them ever referred to it directly. The fact that it remained unspoken made her feel even more awkward and whenever he said the slightest thing that might be an attempt at kindness or humour she had to suppress the anger that threatened to spill over. It was so much easier when they simply stuck to the task in hand.

George followed Emile for about two hundred metres along a small path that led into the forest. The undergrowth had been too dense for her to wheel her bicycle all the way so they hid it in a ditch, covered over with leaves and branches about twenty metres from the main track before Emile guided her the rest of the way. In a few minutes they reached a small clearing and gathered there were about a dozen men, many of whom were quite young, looking barely old enough to have left school, standing around in small groups talking, some smoking and most, but not all, carrying rifles.

As they emerged into the clearing a tall, bearded, dark-haired and powerfully built young man with an air of confidence and a spring in his step, strolled towards them and Emile called out a greeting, "Good to see you Bernard!"

Bernard reached out to shake his hand and then Emile turned to introduce George, "This is Madeleine."

Bernard stepped forward and kissed her on both cheeks and she was immediately aware that he was also casting an appreciative eye over her. Emile seemed to have noticed this too and said in a quiet undertone as if to distract him, "Are these all the men you can muster?"

Bernard shrugged and made a gesture with his hands that suggested he wasn't sure. "They're here, take them or leave them, Phillipe."

Emile nodded, "Very well, let's put them through their paces." He looked around. "Some of them are very young. Have they had any weapons training?"

Bernard shook his head. "There's been precious little opportunity to show the new recruits."

Emile sighed, "Alright, let's see what we can do. Bring the ones who are new to this over here and we'll go through the basics of loading and firing."

For the next half an hour Emile worked with the new recruits and George also found herself pitching in to help. It wasn't her role to assist with training but when she saw a couple of the young lads having trouble, seeming all fingers and thumbs and clearly uncomfortable with handling such weapons she used her knowledge to help them out. She was patient, sympathised with their lack of skill by telling them about a few mistakes she had made and by the end of the time they had listened well and caught up with the others.

Emile then brought everyone together and they started practising a few commands, hand signals and manoeuvres and she listened to him telling the men about the importance of good communication.

"It's not necessarily about numbers. It's a case of everyone knowing their job, being in the right place at the right time and being able to rely on one another."

They took a break after this and then Jacques arrived. Emile had mentioned he would be joining them as the three leaders had some matters to discuss. They strolled away from the main group to a small copse where they could talk in private and George was left with the other men. They chatted to her amiably and despite the very different circumstances it reminded her of being back in England, talking to the boys on an evening out or the banter of the ack-ack battery. After about ten minutes, one of the young men she had helped earlier asked her if she would show him how to handle one of the other rifles he hadn't used before. She walked away to fetch some of the ammunition to load the rifle and reaching the box she knelt down looking for the right calibre cartridges. As she did so she caught the sound of voices just below her on the other side of a hedge and realised it was the three leaders in conversation. Emile was speaking.

"I'll need definite numbers, Bernard. This is the biggest operation we've undertaken and if we're successful we can put the armaments factory in Granville out of business, destroy two months' worth of production and make sure the supply line is so badly damaged it'll take months to repair but I need enough men to make sure the attacks happen simultaneously. It's no good destroying one train load of armaments if the factory can carry on churning them out."

"What about weapons and explosives? We'll need those too." Bernard said.

"They're coming. As I promised. London has given the go ahead for a drop next week. Madeleine brought word of it today. Can you find somewhere safe to store them?" There was no reply and George assumed that Bernard must have nodded in agreement as Emile continued, "Good, but I need as many men as you can get me, Bernard."

Bernard sounded unsure, "It's not easy to find recruits Phillipe. If you need more men you'll have to go to the Communists but they won't help for nothing. How many of those rifles from London and how much ammunition are you prepared to sacrifice? And in any case if you involve them some of my men won't work with them." There was a pause, "It's your decision."

Emile must have been weighing the matter up. George knew that the problem Bernard outlined was real. There was plenty of dislike and distrust of the Communists among ordinary resistance members and Emile might alienate some of them by asking the Communist groups to get involved. However, it sounded as if there was a real risk of the operation failing without sufficient numbers.

Jacques then spoke. "Wouldn't it be better to have several small groups of well-trained men concentrating on each target? We have the factory plans and the sabotage expert from London can assist. Wouldn't that work? You wouldn't need to go to the communists then, Phillipe."

George heard Emile give a long sigh before responding, "Yes, it could work but can the men be ready in time? We know the next transport is due on the 15th. If we want to hit both targets at the same time we need to be ready then. It's very tight for time."

There was a pause before Bernard said, "We'll manage it. I give you my word."

Emile's reply was quiet but decisive, "Very well, it's agreed then."

This was followed by what George assumed to be back-slapping and handshakes and then the sound of movement in her direction. She stood up and walked away, suddenly conscious that she shouldn't have been listening to the conversation and was ten metres away before she saw Emile, Bernard and Jacques emerge from the copse.

They spent some more time with the men before it was time for everyone to disperse. They left individually and in small groups at intervals until only George and Emile were left and they too then made their way back to the main track and retrieved George's bicycle from the ditch before setting back out up the forest track. In her haste to free-wheel down the hill earlier, George hadn't appreciated the effort it would take to trudge back up the incline pushing a heavy bicycle and by the time they reached level ground again she was breathing hard.

"Not getting out of shape are you, Madeleine?"

She shook her head at the remark, "There's little chance of that."

"No, I suppose not," he agreed. "And it won't be over for a while yet."

"I don't mind it," she replied honestly. "I quite enjoy days like this."

Emile thought about what they had been doing for the last few hours and observed, "You were good with the men back there."

George had begun to recognise that Emile gave praise when it was due and he meant it. "Well, I was working in a mixed battery before I came out here, you know. I've learned a few things about working with men."

Emile raised an eyebrow, "Such as?"

"If you want them to listen to you, don't make them feel stupid, even if they are."

Emile smiled. "I listen to you. I always have."

"I rest my case."

He took the jibe in good part but added, "Seriously, Madeleine. You know I would listen to you."

She nodded slowly at this statement, "Alright then, listen to this. I want to be part of the operation."

"You are part of it."

"You see, you're not listening," George cried, "I want to go on the operation when it happens. I'm trained in weapons, I can handle myself. You know that. I can be useful."

Emile stopped and turned to face her.

"I don't like it. It's not a good idea."

"Because I'm a woman?" she shot back at him.

He looked exasperated. "Of course not. It's risky for all of us and you don't even know what it is."

There was an expression on her face that he recognised and he saw a look in her eyes that told him he was mistaken. "How do you know about it?"

It was George's turn to feel awkward but she didn't lie. "I overheard earlier when you were talking to Jacques and Bernard. No one else heard and it wasn't deliberate. Look, it sounds like you'll need everyone you can get for the operation. At least think about it."

He still didn't like it but he nodded, "Alright. I'll think about it but not a word to anyone about the target. Understood?"

"Of course. You don't need to say that."

"I know."

They walked on for a while longer in silence both deep in thought. Emile didn't like the fact that George knew about the target. It was an extra security risk but he liked the idea of her taking part in the operation even less. He didn't doubt she would be proficient and he knew she'd been well trained but he needed people on the outside in case anything went wrong and he didn't want to float that idea with her at the moment. George wondered if Emile was being truthful about the fact that her being a woman was playing no part in his decision but she also rather annoyingly wondered whether he was right and perhaps she shouldn't have made the suggestion in the first place. However, it seemed as if he had been thinking about her involvement during his silence as a few minutes later he said. "You can help with the arms drop next week if you want. We'll need to get everything up off the ground and away as quickly as possible."

"Thanks," she was glad that he was giving her a chance to help.

"It doesn't mean I've made up my mind about the operation, though."

She nodded but made no comment.

They had reached the top of the forest track where it forked and they both paused knowing it would probably be a good place to part company.

"I need to get to Varennes and it's getting late," George said, moving to the right hand fork which would take her back to the road. Emile looked more closely at her. She seemed weary and he'd noticed today that she looked thinner than when she'd first arrived in France. He knew that it would take her at least an hour by road to get to Varennes even on a bicycle.

"It's much shorter through the forest, there's a path. I can show you if you want."

George was tired. She'd been up and out as soon as curfew had ended this morning, collected the messages from Louis and ridden all the way out here to find Emile so that they could co-ordinate their arrangements for the drop. It was late afternoon, she still had a long ride ahead of her and the thought of shortening the journey was appealing even though she knew they ought to split up.

"Is that a good idea?"

He grinned at her, "I trust you, Madeleine."

It infuriated her when he did that. She pulled a face and started to mount her bicycle. He could see she was annoyed.

"Don't cut off your nose to spite your face. I can see that you're tired and we're all more likely to make mistakes when we're tired. Let's go the short way this time."

She wavered for a moment and then her weariness won out. He gestured to his right and they set off into the forest.

There was a path of sorts. It wasn't as defined as the forest track but George was able to wheel her bicycle reasonably easily although there were a few up and downs and Emile helped her to traverse them. They didn't speak much as they needed to walk mostly in single file with Emile at the front. They had covered about two kilometres when Emile suddenly stopped.

"Shit..a patrol," he muttered under his breath.

George glanced ahead and could see the grey uniforms of a German patrol through the trees and heading their way. There was very little time and they both knew they would be seen and the soldiers were sure to stop and question them.

Hastily, Emile took her bicycle from her and threw it onto the ground and turning back to her before she had time to ask what he was doing he pushed her against a tree and whispered urgently, "Kiss me back and make it look like you mean it." He quickly pulled her blouse out from her skirt slipped his hand underneath it and started to kiss her passionately. She froze, her eyes wide open in shock, unable to move as much from the surprise of his actions as the fear of the approaching soldiers until breaking away for a second he snapped her out of her limbo by insisting fiercely, "Just do it, George!"

Trying to blank her mind to what was happening, she closed her eyes, kissed him with as much abandonment as she could muster and reached up her arms to clasp them at the back of his neck and wind her fingers through his hair, all the time conscious of the sound of German voices growing ever nearer.

Emile lowered one hand and slid it up under her skirt, lifting it towards her waist and caressing her thigh, doing a very passable impression of being in the throes of seducing her just as the first soldier appeared and she heard the click of a rifle as it was undoubtedly being raised and trained on them accompanied by the cry of "Halt!". They both froze and then they heard the sound of male laughter. Emile's hand was still up George's skirt, her thigh and underwear clearly exposed to everyone but he had turned his head towards the soldier affecting a look of startled surprise at the interruption.

"What are you doing here?" the soldier shouted.

Emile removed his hand from George's leg and let her skirt fall and sounding suitably embarrassed, nervous and shifty he said, "Talking… to my girlfriend."

The soldiers looked at each other incredulously and one sniggered but the one taking charge of the situation continued, "All the way out here?"

Emile cleared his throat, "We can't meet in town. It's awkward…her fiancé might find out."

The soldiers exchanged glances and then George was sure one of them cracked a joke about Frenchmen having all the luck before, to her relief, they started laughing again. One of the others spoke to the first soldier in German and she felt sure he was telling his comrade not to bother with them. One or two of the others backed away as if uninterested and after staring at them for a moment longer the first one shook his head, "Don't hang about here." Then he also turned away and joined the others who were still laughing at having interrupted an illicit tryst. Emile and George watched them go in silence. She was still standing with her back to the tree and they still had their arms around each other. He looked down at her.

"They were sloppy. I think we got away with it."

She was shaking, she couldn't help it but she nodded, "Yes, this time."

He looked into her eyes. It had been so long since they had been like this together and although he knew he ought to move away the relief of their narrow escape and the contact with her after so many months of stress and tension was too much for him and he pulled her close to him. She didn't resist but almost seemed to sink into him as if she felt the same and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to him to lean towards her seeking the comfort of a real kiss.

George had momentarily relaxed, weakened by the after effects of a rush of adrenalin that had coursed through her body when she thought they were about to be arrested and her legs had turned to jelly as she saw the soldiers moving away from them but the moment she realised Emile was still holding her and about to take advantage of the situation she felt the anger rise in her and she tried to push him away, "No. What do you think this is?"

It shook him and he realised his mistake, "I'm sorry." Even so, as he released her it was with great reluctance. She was already heading for her bicycle, intent on getting away from here and him as soon as possible.

Emile walked after her. "Slow down and at least wait for the patrol to go. Look I won't …"

She turned to glare at him, "You're right you won't! And you didn't need to put your hand up my skirt just now, either."

Emile cleared his throat, "I don't know, I thought it lent the act a bit of authenticity."

Even at a moment like this she heard the humour in his voice and her annoyance spilled over, "That's all it was, Emile. An act. Don't forget it."

He wanted to comment on the fact that she'd forgotten to call him by his codename but the look in her eyes was enough this time to silence him.

The patrol had disappeared from sight and George bent to pick up her bicycle. "I can find my own way from here."

He nodded. "Alright, but be careful."

"Yes," she snapped back, "More careful than you were with your suggestions to come this way in the first place."

"I'm serious," Emile replied. "Be careful. People are relying on you."

"And I won't let them down."

She turned and started to push her bicycle along the path heading for Varennes. Emile knew he ought to head off as well but instead he leaned against a tree and watched her struggling with the heavy bicycle on the uneven ground. There was no point in going after her or offering any help, she was far too determined to prove herself even though she had nothing left to prove to him.

He took a few deep breaths and then thinking about what had happened with the German patrol felt a bit annoyed with himself. George was right; he hadn't been careful. Despite his best efforts he was letting the situation get to him. To be more precise he was letting her get to him and he also knew that he was starting to worry about her. He naturally felt concern for all his comrades but he knew he was starting to worry about one person in particular and that was dangerous. He should have let her go by herself when she'd suggested it back at the fork in the forest track but he'd wanted to spend more time with her and as a result they'd almost been caught, not that there hadn't been any compensation in their little bit of subterfuge just now. He allowed himself a wry smile at the memory of George in his arms but humour aside he knew that they had been lucky and their little act had saved them this time. The problem was that in spite of everything he was telling himself to the contrary about the way he ought to feel for George, he couldn't escape one simple fact that confused everything; he still loved her.