CHAPTER TWO
HAZEL
LONDON, ENGLAND
1943
Hazel sat and smiled at her future mother-in-law, then continued sipping her tea for something to do. Her cheeks were red, she could feel how hot they were, and she wasn’t sure if it was because the room was so stuffy or because of the subject matter at hand. Or maybe it was because of the awkwardness of this gathering – her parents, prospective in-laws and the fiancé she barely knew any more all squeezed into the front room of her family home. Perhaps it was all three.
‘Look, I think it’s one thing to have to help while the men are away, but surely these women won’t expect to continue doing such work after the war?’
Hazel opened her mouth to say something and received a sharp look from her mother. She knew better than to say anything contradictory, had always been the good daughter doing what she was told. Her face burnt more and she balled one of her fists, her nails digging hard into her palm as her mother-in-law’s words echoed through her mind.
‘Mother, once the war is over, they’ll be back to being housewives,’ John said. ‘We can’t have women taking jobs from men. Imagine it!’
Hazel forced a smile when her fiancé laughed and squeezed her hand, probably wondering why she wasn’t laughing along with him. Her father was smiling, his mother was giggling, and her mother was still giving her a sharp look as if daring her to say the wrong thing. She should have behaved – it would have been easier – but ever since she herself had started working, something had begun simmering within her, something that she was finding impossible to stamp out. She almost laughed, remembering the time at the start of the war when she’d offered her services to the cause at her local recruiting office.
She smiled at the men standing around, waiting their turn in line, and then spied a very dapper-looking older gentleman in full soldier’s dress uniform. Hazel quickly made her way over to him.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, smiling at the rather stern expression on his face when he turned to her. She watched him stroke his fingers across his neatly clipped moustache as he considered her.
‘If you want to have your boyfriend excused from fighting, then I suggest you go and find someone else to cry to,’ he said sternly.
Hazel felt a hot blush creeping across her cheeks as she shook her head. ‘No, sir. I, ah, well, my fiancé is off to fight for our great country, but that’s not why I’m here.’
He stared at her, looking impatient.
‘Is there anything I can do? I mean, is there a place for women in the army doing anything?’ she asked, feeling stupid. Her words were coming out all wrong, her face on fire as embarrassment spread across every inch of her skin.
‘Let me get this straight,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You want me to issue you a uniform and send you off to war, love?’
Hazel glared at him. How dare he treat her like this! She wanted to do something to help, not be laughed at.
‘I don’t appreciate your mockery, sir,’ she said bluntly. ‘I was simply enquiring whether I might be of assistance in some way.’
‘Well, then, how about you run along and offer to help in the canteen?’ he suggested, still chuckling. ‘Unless you want to tell me specifically what it is that you think you can do for us? Were you thinking of joining the armed forces or the navy?’
Hazel was furious, but she didn’t let him see how much he’d hurt her. She could cry later, but she wasn’t going to let so much as a tear escape now, especially not with him and the other recruiting officer nearby laughing at her.
‘Very well. I’ll find somewhere else to be of use,’ she said. ‘Mark my words, though – if this war goes on for years, you’ll be begging women like me to come and do our bit.’
Now, women didn’t have a choice – unmarried ones anyway – but back then she’d been the source of much amusement.
‘Women are running farms singlehandedly, and joining the air force,’ Hazel said, clearing her throat and meeting John’s gaze, unable to hold her tongue any longer. ‘Is it so impossible to believe that women are actually as capable as men?’
Hazel saw the horrified look on her mother’s face, and then the horror mirrored on her fiancé’s face, and wished she’d just kept her mouth shut. But the way they spoke about young women, as if the work they did were somehow inferior to a man’s, drove her crazy. All the young men were away fighting and yet somehow women had stepped perfectly into their roles, and they were doing a damn fine job of it, even if they were being paid less! It wasn’t that she didn’t want their men home, but she didn’t like to be told that women weren’t capable.
‘Sweetheart, I know you’re proud of your little job with the air force, but no one will want women hanging around trying to play at working when the men come home,’ John said, in a voice that he no doubt thought was soothing, but that she simply found annoying. Had he changed since she’d fallen in love with him, or had she simply grown up?
If her blood could have boiled, she was certain steam would have been coming out of her ears and nostrils by now.
‘Of course, we’re very proud of you for helping, too,’ his mother said, nodding in agreement with her son. ‘It wasn’t our intention to belittle you.’
No, she thought. It was your intention to belittle every woman who’s working to keep our country running!
Hazel took a deep breath and forced a smile. Remember your place, her mother would have cautioned her. ‘I shouldn’t have taken offence,’ she lied.
‘Hazel’s been working long hours,’ her mother said, suddenly nodding so rapidly she looked as though her head was in danger of falling off. ‘Another reason women aren’t built for men’s work!’
John chuckled and she suddenly, vividly remembered what it had been like before the war, when their romance had blossomed. Back then it had been all about stolen kisses and long summer nights with friends, going for a walk after dinner and feeling as if her heart would burst. Before the war, he’d been fun and carefree. Or perhaps they’d just been young, with hardly a care in the world.
‘You should leave your window open tonight,’ John had said one evening, his whisper grazing her skin. ‘Perhaps I could sneak in after dark.’
Hazel had grasped his hand, equal parts horrified and excited. ‘John!’ she’d scolded. ‘If Mother caught us she’d never let you near me again!’
‘Come here, then,’ he’d murmured, tugging her behind an oak tree, hidden from sight for a few moments until their friends caught them up.
‘John . . . ,’ she’d started to protest, but his fingertips were so soft against her cheek, his lips even softer.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he’d whispered, before kissing her, brushing his lips against hers and stroking her lower back.
‘Hey!’ One of her friends found them and Hazel jumped back, but not before catching John’s eye, smiling at him as he winked at her and backed away.
She’d thought nothing would ever change things between them, not even the war.
Hazel blinked when she heard her name mentioned, no longer listening properly. She was well aware that her opinion didn’t seem to matter, except to her father, who at least feigned interest and didn’t treat her like a hopeless woman. When everyone had laughed earlier, her father had given her a wink that made her proud she’d at least tried to have a voice. The John she’d carried on with and naively imagined a perfect little future with probably would have rolled his eyes and winked, too. Which was why she was so confused about the feelings she was having about him, about whether she’d made a dreadful mistake in agreeing to marry him.
‘Would you all mind terribly if Hazel and I took a moment to walk around the garden?’ John asked.
Hazel blushed and stood as their parents tittered away, then took John’s hand and followed him out when he nudged her. He infuriated her sometimes, and often when she wrote him letters she felt as though she was corresponding with a stranger, but holding his hand felt nice, soothed her worries somewhat. They’d been courting for almost nine months before she’d waved him off to war, and this was only the second time she’d seen him since then.
He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her, unleashing butterflies in her stomach. When they were outside, out of sight and earshot, he took her other hand and pulled her gently towards him.
‘I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,’ he said, bending to kiss her.
John’s lips were warm against hers, moving slowly, gently, in a sweet kiss that sent goose pimples down her spine and reminded her of those memories she’d held on to for so long. His words had infuriated her, but his touch did the exact opposite.
He pulled away, wrapping his arms around her instead and kissing the top of her head. ‘How much longer do we have?’ she whispered. It was the first time they’d been truly alone together, the first time she’d been able to touch him freely, and it had taken only a moment to remind her why she’d fallen for him so quickly in the first place.
‘I leave the day after tomorrow,’ he said, sighing and stroking her hair. ‘For God only knows how much longer.’
They were silent then, and Hazel couldn’t help but think how much he’d changed. The man she’d said goodbye to had been desperate to serve, excited about what lay ahead, but she could tell he had no desire to return, not this time.
‘Do you ever think about the day you left?’ she asked, her voice a low whisper.
He nodded. ‘Often.’
She sighed and leaned into him, breathing in his scent, feeling his strong, warm chest against her cheek. ‘I was so upset that you were going before you’d been called up. Back then I was more concerned about missing our wedding date than the war.’
He chuckled. ‘And I was so desperate to fight. If only I’d known what I was going into, I’d have stayed home and married you.’ John kissed her forehead. ‘I’d have been better off waiting until I was called up.’
She looked up into his dark brown eyes and was warmed by the steadiness of his gaze. She’d often wondered how different things might be if they’d simply brought their wedding forward. Perhaps she might have even had John’s child by now. But at the time, it had seemed logical to wait – she’d been young and they’d been engaged only a short time after all.
She still loved John, but her expectations had changed. She’d been brought up to expect a comfortable life as a wife and mother, and now she was relishing the independence and responsibility that came with her work. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be married, but she no longer felt that being a housewife was all she aspired to be.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, holding her at arm’s length.
She smiled up at him. ‘I wondered that day if I’d ever see you again. It’s almost a surprise to have you standing here.’
‘And I thought our wedding would only be delayed by a few months and life as we knew it would resume,’ he said drily. ‘How wrong was I?’
Hazel leaned in again, arms encircling his neck as she drew him in for another kiss. Here with him like this, her worries seemed to fade away, the things that had annoyed her earlier disappearing. Perhaps he just said such things to impress her parents or his? Surely he didn’t believe all women were only capable of keeping a home and caring for babies.
‘I’ll miss you,’ John whispered.
‘I’ll miss you, too,’ she replied, jumping back when a door banged. Her father appeared and gave them a stern look.
Hazel folded her arms around herself and smiled at her father when he walked closer.
‘It’s almost time for you to leave for work,’ he said. ‘Time to say your goodbyes.’
Hazel nodded and waited for her father to go back inside, before taking John’s hand and studying his fingers, imagining a wedding ring there, imagining them married, trying to go back in time and recall how excited she’d been when he’d proposed. She’d seen a perfect little house and four perfect little children back then, but now she wondered whether life would ever seem so simple.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow before you go?’ she asked.
He leaned in and stole one last kiss. ‘Tomorrow.’
Hazel walked to work, thankful to be out in the fresh air. She would miss John, but she was starting to wonder if they’d ever be married. Perhaps other couples were the same, separated for so long and left wondering what things would be like once the war was over, or at least that’s what she liked to tell herself. But she was starting to struggle with what was expected of her, feeling as if she was playing the perfect daughter, perfect fiancée routine, when she felt a yearning to do something more. What that was, she didn’t know, but now that she was alone she couldn’t stop the earlier conversation from playing through her mind.
What she hadn’t told anybody, including John, was how her work with the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force had changed. She’d quickly moved on from packing parachutes to working as a plotter, tracking the positions of enemy aircraft and taking over communication duties, and recently she’d started to hear whispers about women working undercover. About women working in roles as important as any man’s. Her superior, Officer McLeod, had asked her more than once about her language skills, and she had wondered whether the rumours were true, whether she might be selected. Her higher-ups had been surprised at her knack for working radios, and only a month earlier when one of their best plotters had disappeared without any explanation, Hazel had been certain the girl had been recruited for something bigger.
She’d only just stepped into work when she heard her name called.
‘Hazel, I need a word.’
She immediately went over to Officer McLeod. Her heart started to race, excitement building. Why did he want to see her again?
He moved to a quiet spot and she stood expectantly in front of him.
‘It’s been brought to my attention that you would make an excellent translator.’
‘Yes, sir, I believe I would.’
‘Can you confirm that you are absolutely fluent in the French language?’
‘Yes, sir. I am.’
‘French French, not school French?’
She nodded. ‘Is this to do with undercover work, sir?’
Hazel felt her cheeks start to burn when he gave her a stern look. She knew she was probably turning beetroot red, unsure what she was supposed to say.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I suppose I didn’t really want to say, but I thought “translator” was code for something bigger, something more, well, important and undercover for our country.’ She said the last part quietly, wondering if she’d made a big mistake even mentioning it.
‘I see. Well, let me tell you that such things, if they existed, would be by invitation only.’
She nodded again, not sure at all what he was telling her.
‘I understand,’ she said with some uncertainty. What was his sudden interest in whether or not she could speak French fluently?
‘Report to the Northumberland Hotel tonight at 1700 hours.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’ll be meeting with a man known as Smith. Wait in the lobby and he’ll find you.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Hazel watched him walk away, a little stunned by what had just happened. She had no idea how the process worked, but something told her that her job description might be about to change. This might be her chance to do something big.
She went to her desk, this time with a spring in her step. She only hoped that her French was still as good as it had once been, and that John would forgive her if she took a job he felt should be reserved for men.
Hazel sat very still. She was trying to act relaxed and pretend as if sitting in the lobby of the Northumberland Hotel was the most normal thing in the world, but the truth was that she was a bundle of nerves. No amount of pretending was going to stop her from digging her nails into her palms and clenching her toes tightly in her shoes to avoid jiggling her legs.
She’d been punctual arriving, careful to ensure she had enough time to be waiting promptly at 5 p.m. But she was still waiting some time later, and no one had come looking for her.
‘Good evening.’
She hadn’t noticed the man approaching her from behind the chair, and she gave him a quick glance.
‘Good evening,’ she replied, not wanting to engage. As he sat down next to her, she noticed he was well dressed, his trousers nicely tailored and his tie knotted perfectly.
‘You’re waiting for someone?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard there are some meetings here tonight.’ He stretched out, looking comfortable.
Hazel turned and gave him a tight smile. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m waiting for a family friend.’
‘Oh. Sorry to bother you, then. Profitez de votre soirée.’
Hazel laughed. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t speak that language. Is it French?’ She was acting calm; she knew she was doing a good job of fooling him, but inside she was on the verge of blowing up. She dug her nails tighter into her palm. Enjoy your evening. She’d known exactly what he’d said.
‘Very good instincts,’ he said with a chuckle, before holding out his hand. ‘I’m Smith. Come with me.’
Hazel made a noise that sounded like a whimper, a big breath sighing from her lungs. She’d been suffocating there, trying so hard to put this man off the trail, worried she would give away something that was so secret, and it had been a ruse!
‘You did well,’ he said as he walked quickly. ‘I’m impressed, and I don’t impress easily. You thought fast on the spot.’
‘Ah, thank you, sir,’ she said as she hurried alongside him. He opened a door and indicated for her to walk through, bending closer as she passed.
‘The clenched fists were what gave you away. Other than that?’ He shrugged. ‘Pretty good.’
Hazel took a step into the room and stopped. She looked around, then at the man she knew only as Smith. There were two chairs in the room, as if the rest of the furniture had been swallowed by the stark white walls. She moved cautiously when he pointed to one of the chairs, her nervous excitement making way for a pit of dread in her stomach. Hazel glanced back at the door as Smith locked it and came closer, sitting in the opposite chair.
‘What comes to mind when I say the word Nazi?’ he asked, staring straight at her.
She felt a line of sweat bead across her forehead.
‘Hatred,’ she said simply. ‘Evil men who must be stopped no matter what the cost.’
‘Do you resent your fiancé being sent to war?’
‘Well, I did resent the fact he signed up so quickly.’
‘So you don’t want him to serve our great country?’
She gasped. ‘That’s not what I said! But we had planned to be married and . . .’
‘Your marriage is more important than fighting this battle?’
Hazel shook her head, ignoring the tears that had sprung to her eyes. He was trying to get under her skin, and she wasn’t going to let him. This was her one chance to prove that she was strong, that she could do something more to help bring the Nazis down. She wasn’t some pathetic woman more worried about a pretty wedding gown than fighting for what was right!
‘I am willing to sacrifice my own life for the people of our country,’ she said firmly. ‘Do I miss my fiancé? Of course. I would prefer him to be at home, but once and only once this war is won.’
He nodded. ‘You lied to me in the lobby. Is this something you do often?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Where did you learn to speak the language fluently?’ he asked in French.
She smiled. ‘When I lived abroad in Paris,’ she replied in the same language.
‘Who did you live with there?’ he asked, in English this time.
She took his lead, answering in her native tongue. ‘I lived with a family. The daughter, Rose, was a close friend of mine when they lived in London, and when her family returned to Paris my parents arranged for me to go with them to broaden my language skills.’
‘Who is this Rose?’ he asked, switching languages again.
Hazel replied immediately in French. ‘She is from a nice family, and I had the most wonderful time there. She married a businessman who unfortunately passed away recently.’
‘Do you know anything about her husband?’
‘Nothing that I imagine would interest you.’
Smith chuckled. ‘You’d be surprised. Were you aware that he was affiliated with the Resistance? That he was a passionate supporter of this underground movement?’
Hazel considered his question. ‘No, I was not aware. But it doesn’t surprise me. He was a very wealthy man, but he was also very cultured and had a strong sense of humanity. I attended their wedding and I very much approved of Rose’s choice of husband.’
‘Do you feel that you know Paris well?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘How well do you know other parts of France?’
She gulped, not used to answering such intense, rapid-fire questions. ‘Well, I know Paris very well, as well as I know London in fact. And yes,’ Hazel said, trying to stay calm and answer the questions without racing, ‘I did explore other parts of France. Rose and her husband had a beautiful home on the coast, near Brest, and I was fortunate enough to have an extended holiday there with them after they were married.’
‘What would you do if a Nazi was running towards you?’ he asked in English.
‘Do I have a gun in this hypothetical situation?’ she asked back.
He smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s a simple answer. I’d shoot him,’ Hazel said bluntly. ‘Make no mistake, I hate the Nazis with all my heart, and as unskilled as I might be in the field, I’d do my best to shoot him dead.’ She was pleased not to hear a quiver in her voice, because the truth was that she’d hate to be put in a situation that required her to take another person’s life, Nazi or not.
Smith stood and walked around the room, no longer looking at her. He kept firing questions at her, tirelessly over and over, as if he had a hundred things ready to ask her. He was relentless. When he stopped pacing and stared at her, she took a deep breath and waited.
‘And what would you do if I asked you to leave here with me and disappear tonight? Would you come with me?’ His gaze was cold.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I don’t know who you are. All I know is that you’re asking me all sorts of questions, that I have no idea who you work for or what you do, and I still don’t know what role I’m auditioning for, or if one even exists.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Maybe my sources were right about you.’
She had no idea what sources he could be talking about. She sat still, staring at him, pretending to be more confident than she was.
‘Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if I need to be.’
He crossed the room and opened the door, beckoning for her to walk out. Hazel stood and tried to walk as slowly as she could, head held high. She had no idea if the interview had been a dismal failure or if she was still in with a chance, so she stopped and looked him directly in the eye.
‘Goodbye, Hazel.’
He smiled and shut the door behind her, leaving her alone outside the room. She breathed a sigh of relief, realising how long she must have been holding her breath. There was a clock in the lobby, and when she passed it she saw she’d been in the room for at least forty minutes.
She could only hope that this elusive Smith, whoever he was, had liked what she’d said. Because she had a feeling this was the kind of job you got only one chance of securing, and either she’d blown it or managed to impress the person deciding her fate.