CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOPHIA
Sophia’s legs were burning. There was a deep, painful heat building in her calf muscles and sweeping up into her thighs, pushing down into the balls of her feet and then tingling up every inch of her. Her hips were achy and her hands gripped the handlebars so tight that her knuckles were white. But she never stopped pedalling.
She’d been going for perhaps two hours, she wasn’t sure. But the sun was now high in the sky and a constant beading of sweat had formed above her top lip and greased her forehead. She was hot and wet, but nothing was going to stop her. Thankfully she’d been to the other cell, almost a year ago, before she’d even met Rose, so she had a rough idea of where she was heading and how to get there.
It was a long journey, though, and she knew the reality of that kind of bicycle ride. Her hands would be blistered, along with her feet. She’d be so hungry and thirsty that she’d collapse with exhaustion, her legs buckling beneath her the moment she got off. But nothing was going to slow her down or squash her determination. Nothing other than a German.
Up ahead she would pass through a small village, and she knew there was a chance she could be stopped. There would be a patrol there, perhaps guards watching and waiting where she couldn’t see them. Sophia kept on, taking one hand off the handlebars to swipe across her upper lip, not wanting to ruin her lipstick and look a fright if she had to flirt with danger.
She kept pedalling – another ten minutes, then another, perhaps half an hour – and then she saw them. The Germans were waiting, standing there, looking around. They were talking, looking unworried about life, and as she approached she forced a huge grin and waved out, wobbling a little and then laughing at herself as she did it again once she was closer.
‘Hello there!’ she called out in German as she passed by.
One of them laughed and smiled back, another grunted. She smiled at the one who looked least impressed of the three of them, and grabbed an apple from her basket and tossed it to him.
‘Enjoy!’ she called out.
She puckered her lips and blew a kiss, knowing the men would probably love her full lips covered in red lipstick. This was why female agents were so good; it was easy to flirt with a man and give the impression that she was nothing more than a silly girl, and most of the time they bought it.
‘Stop!’ one of the men commanded.
She inhaled deeply, slowing and putting one foot down to stop and steady herself.
‘I’ll be back past again soon!’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘Off to give these apples to my grandmother and check she’s all right. Would you all like one?’
She picked one out, then another, offering them and grinning when the two men took them. She kept eye contact, glancing away every now and again as if she were shy in their company.
‘Let her go,’ the closest man said. ‘Come see us on your way back.’ The knowing look he gave her made her want to retch.
She waved and pedalled off, terrified she would wobble and tip over. Her legs were already shaky, her balance terrible, and they’d been so close to seeing what was in her basket. The radio parts, the money, the codes . . .
Sophia gulped and kept going, not rushing, not wanting to alert them. She wasn’t even halfway yet, and she had to keep going.
Sophia had started to slow. She’d been going for hours. How many, she had no idea, but she’d been cycling all day and her movements were getting sluggish. She had recognised the house, a small, nondescript cottage that was set well back from the road, and she was heading towards it, so close to collapsing but refusing to give in.
She neared, wobbling as she put one foot down and then dropped the bicycle and staggered off, her remaining apples careening from the basket and leaving her satchel to fall on to the grass beside them. Sophia stumbled as she tried to reach for it, her legs seizing and crying out to her to lie down.
‘Stop!’
She looked up and into the eyes of a man she’d never seen before. His gaze was menacing, reminding her instantly of the Gestapo, but he was wearing plain clothes and she knew she was at the right place.
‘We were ambushed,’ she croaked out, desperately in need of water. ‘I have what I could save. I need . . .’
‘What’s the password?’ he demanded, pulling out a knife and grabbing her by the hair, yanking her up.
She flapped her hands, clawed at his grasp, but when the cool blade of the knife pressed to her throat, she stopped moving.
‘I don’t know the password!’ she insisted. ‘But I have been here before. They used to call me the fox.’ Please not the password game again!
He laughed. ‘Try again.’
She heard someone, knew at least one other person had joined them outside, but she couldn’t look over her shoulder to see.
She inhaled, let her body go slack, remembered her training. These men were tough and strong, good fighters and prepared to do anything, but they hadn’t received the dedicated training that she had in London. They were often too quick to act, and not fast enough to listen first.
Sophia breathed deep again, feeling the blade, feeling his hands on her, knowing instinctively that his grip with one hand wasn’t solid. She spun then, using one hand to smack the knife away and the other to push him. She took him by surprise and jumped back once she’d got away, touching her neck, knowing he’d nicked her with the blade.
‘Don’t ever do that to me again,’ she spat out. ‘I’ve travelled all day on that wretched bike to get here, and I have an urgent message, not to mention a radio and money for you.’
Her would-be captor glared back at her, eyes narrowed. He would have been handsome if he hadn’t been looking like he wanted to kill her. She let herself glance around then, saw there were in fact two more men outside and more in the small house looking out.
‘How can we trust you?’ one of the other men asked, arms folded across his chest.
‘You can trust me when I show you this,’ she said, opening the satchel so he could see inside and then throwing it to him. He caught it easily. ‘That’s all the money from the chateau and something to start building a radio with if you don’t already have one. I’m the only one left. The others were either already gone, killed when we were ambushed or . . .’ She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘Taken. My friend Hazel was taken.’
‘Wait, Hazel?’ The man straightened, his face changing from harsh to warm. He gave her an odd kind of half-smile. ‘My sister, Rose, was working with an old friend of ours named Hazel.’
Sophia could have cried. ‘Sebastian?’ she asked quietly. ‘You’re Rose’s brother.’
He nodded. ‘Where is she? Is she safe?’
Sophia shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry. She didn’t return from her last job, and Hazel was taken last night. I’m the only one left.’
Sebastian nodded, holding his hand out. She clasped it, his palm warm against hers as he shook her hand. There was suddenly so much left unsaid between them, and there was nothing she could say to reassure him as she broke their connection. His face was gaunt, his eyes pained as he stared back at her, but a noise from behind made her turn. It was Pierre. She’d thought he was dead from what they’d been told upon arrival at the chateau, but clearly he’d simply moved on.
‘Pierre?’ She smiled when he walked towards her with open arms.
‘Little fox, come here,’ he said affectionately.
‘The Allies are landing in Normandy,’ she told him, starting to feel dizzy. ‘We have to act now, we have to . . .’
She went to move but her legs buckled, and when she looked down she saw the dark red stain on her top. She’d forgotten about the bullet. All that time, riding past those soldiers, and . . .
The grass rushed up to meet her, the sky spinning when she looked up.
‘Catch her!’ she heard Pierre yell as Sebastian lurched towards her.
Blackness engulfed Sophia as someone caught her under the arms, the world whirling as she shut her eyes and gave in to the darkness cradling her.
Sophia stood and stretched, moving to the window to look out. She’d had a restless sleep, as always, hearing noises and certain that they were about to be raided. It had been five days since she’d arrived, and her blisters and bullet wound had finally started to heal. Her legs were still aching and she’d been so exhausted when she’d arrived, but it was the worry for her friends, the sadness for all the lives that had been taken when hers had been spared, that had taken the biggest, most lasting toll on her.
She had a big night ahead of her tonight, and she was thankful that she’d been able to wake early. More than a few hours’ sleep and she’d do nothing but toss and turn, more exhausted than before she’d gone to bed.
The shipment of arms was arriving soon, and it was she who was going to guide it in, just as she’d done in the past with Hazel. Since that terrible night at the chateau, she’d taken over radioing, and even though she wasn’t nearly as fast or talented as her friend, she’d managed to do the job well enough and build a new radio from the parts she’d brought and what was already at the house. Some of the men, including Sebastian, had gone the night she’d arrived, their target a transport line that ran to Normandy, and she’d taken over the role of communications to ensure they were aware of what was going on at all times.
She kept replaying the conversation she’d had with Sebastian over and over in her mind, wishing she’d had the chance to get to know him better. She could understand why Rose was so fond of him; there was a kindness about him when he spoke, a warmness in his gaze that reminded her of Alex. And just like her Alex, there was a strength about him that made others look up to him. Sophia had been able to tell how much Sebastian’s men respected him by the way they stopped talking to listen to him, following his orders without question.
The poor man had been consumed with worry about his sister, though, not to mention his wife.
‘I was under no illusions about our work here, but I never expected my sister to become so involved.’
‘She’s very good at what she does,’ Sophia said. ‘She saved my life once and I would trust her to do it again in a heartbeat.’
‘You know,’ he’d said with a laugh, ‘she used to drive our parents mad sometimes. They were desperate for her to settle down, but until she met Peter, she was so outspoken and determined to have her voice heard, they wondered if she’d ever marry. I suppose her work here shouldn’t have surprised me so.’
‘And Peter settled her down?’ Sophia asked. The Rose she knew was quietly determined, and would stop at nothing to help their cause.
‘No, Peter loved my sister for who she was. He liked her opinions and her intelligence, and all he ever wanted was to make her happy.’
Sophia nodded. ‘And your wife? What news have you had of her?’
Sebastian met her gaze and she wished she hadn’t asked. ‘I’ve had no word for days now. It’s the first time we’ve been separated since . . .’
She waited as he cleared his throat, as if he was wondering whether to tell her something or not.
‘She left the Resistance for a short time and had to travel back to Paris. For family matters,’ he said hurriedly. ‘But since her return we’ve worked side by side.’
‘I can’t offer you empty promises about their safety, because we all know the reality of being here,’ Sophia said, placing a hand to his shoulder. ‘But I can promise you that if I have the chance to help Rose, I will do anything in my power to save her.’
Sebastian gave her a long stare before opening his arms and holding her tight. She’d held him back, feeling oddly comfortable in the embrace of a man she hardly knew. But there was a familiarity about Sebastian being Rose’s brother, a connection to the people she’d lost.
‘Hazel was very close to my family,’ he said as he pulled away. ‘If there’s anything we can do to help her, if you have any word at all . . .’
‘Rose and Hazel are both my family now, too,’ she said. ‘You focus on your work and finding your wife, and let me worry about them.’
Sophia brushed away tears as she thought of Sebastian’s drawn, tired face as he’d walked away from her. She pushed away her thoughts and readied herself, then went out to the kitchen to find something to eat, pleased that the house was empty. She was the only woman amongst an ever-growing group of men coming and going from the house, and although it didn’t bother her, she liked the few quiet moments she had. The night before, they’d been planning their next mission, ready to target the trucks that would be travelling in convoy and filled with German arms. The idea of the chaos they would cause was enough to put a smile on Sophia’s face, but she also felt the pressure of the part she had to play weighing heavy on her shoulders. She had set the coordinates and she would guide the plane in. She was effectively in charge of arming hundreds of men.
Sophia looked through the grubby window and saw a few men outside. She headed out, calling to them and beckoning for them to follow her.
‘We’re going now?’ one of them asked.
She nodded. ‘We are.’
Sophia climbed aboard her bicycle, and two of the men did the same, coming with her to keep her safe and assist her as needed. By the time they had a blanket cover of darkness, all three of them were in position, tucked behind trees. Soon they would hear the faint sound of trucks in the distance, and men would be arriving on foot and hiding.
The rumble soon alerted her to the fact that the plane was coming in on time. She listened to her thumping heart and then stepped out. She raised her light and turned it on, using it to guide the plane, signalling and standing bravely as it came in. From then on it was a blur. Men appeared from nowhere in the dark; boxes were unloaded and carried away; and the plane disappeared into the sky again, leaving them in the field alone, in the dark, their breaths clouding around them.
‘Let’s go,’ Sophia ordered, going back to find her bicycle.
The moon was high and when the clouds finally drifted out of the way, its light guided her. She took a moment to look up, to smile and remember the nights she’d spent with Rose, transporting soldiers under the crescent moon to the waiting submarines. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
A pop sounded out, in the distance, but loud enough to make her pause.
‘What . . . ,’ she began, her voice a whisper as she spun around, mouth open.
The noise that echoed around her was louder this time, jolting one of her companions back, his body staggering and then falling to the ground.
Sophia started to run, her arms pumping, not knowing where the enemy was or how many there might be or . . .
Boom.
The noise was a bang, an explosion of sorts, but when the force entered her body all she heard was a thwack. Heat billowed through her, starting as a sharp sting and quickly reaching a crescendo when it exploded inside her.
She grabbed at her abdomen and sobbed as she spiralled down.
‘I’ve got you!’
Someone grabbed her, someone had hold of her, strong arms pulling her and then throwing her up in the air. She thought she was on someone’s shoulders, that she was being carried like a sack of potatoes, but she had no idea.
The only thing she knew was that she’d been shot, that her body was so hot, as if she was on fire. It was the third time she’d had a bullet enter her body, and there was no mistaking what had happened to her.
Or that it was someone friendly who was carrying her.
‘Alex?’ she mumbled, laughing as she bumped along in the dark and gunfire sounded around them, her mind all foggy. She tried to push past the haze, tried to make sense of where she was as everything blurred.
‘Alex?’ she asked again.
She could see his dark eyes, feel the warmth of his embrace, the smile that had always greeted her whenever she’d arrived home.
‘Alex,’ she whispered again.
Alex had her. Or maybe she was dead and that’s how she’d found him.
‘Alex,’ she whispered one last time, before shutting her weary eyes and feeling every ounce of life drain from her body as she did so.
‘You’re going to be fine. We’re going to get you home.’
Sophia opened her eyes, then shut them quickly. Home? Was she still alive?
Pain exploded in her abdomen again, and when she opened her eyes just enough, slits to peer through, everything was still fuzzy, pain blurring everything around her. There were people working on her, doing something. Was she back at the house?
‘Argghh!’
She heard a noise, realised her mouth was open, that she was the one making it.
‘You’re doing great. The bullet’s out, we’re just stitching you up.’
She went to resist, to move, but her hands were being held down, keeping her still. Sophia fought the waves of pain, knew she’d been shot, that they were trying to help her, but it hurt so badly.
‘Sebastian?’ she asked, wondering if it was Rose’s brother.
‘Sebastian’s not coming back. He’s gone,’ came a rough, hoarse reply. ‘We were fired at when we were trying to explode the German tanks. We lost men.’
Sophia started to cry. She couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. How would she ever tell Rose that her brother was dead?
‘We’re not going to let you die. We’ll get you out of here,’ the same voice said.
Alex was her home. She wanted to tell someone that, but when she opened her mouth all that came out was another moan. She wanted Alex. All she wanted was Alex.
She sobbed then, unable to stay strong any longer.
She wanted Alex. She wanted her mother. She wanted the life she’d had before the war had taken everything from her.
‘Last stitch.’
Sophia heard the words but she couldn’t form a reply.
She wanted it over. The war. Her recovery. The death. The fear.
All she wanted was to find Alex again, to feel his arms around her, his whispers against her skin. Everyone she loved had died, and Alex might have, too, but she had to believe he’d made it. Without Alex, she had no one and nothing to return to.
‘You’re our little hero,’ a man said. She didn’t know if it was the same man as before or someone else; there were a few of them peering down at her.
‘I’m no hero,’ she managed to mutter.
‘You are,’ he said again. ‘The delivery was a success and we’re going to blast the hell out of every last German on that train line tonight, mark my words.’
Sophia managed a smile. It didn’t feel like a success, but at least it hadn’t been for nothing.
‘Tonight you’re going to rest, and tomorrow we’re taking you somewhere safe until we can get you back to London.’