CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ROSE
Rose listened. The noise of battle was so close, she could feel the buzz of the planes in her bones. They were Allies. They had to be the Allies. Which meant the Germans were slowly being defeated. The landings must have been a success.
She’d become accustomed to the deep, gnawing ache in her stomach that had been there for weeks now. Or had it been days? The beatings and questions felt like they’d been going on for a lifetime. The pain of being so hungry was something she could never fully ignore, but she’d started to become more used to it. She wondered if it was her body’s defence mechanism, something that happened when a person was forced to exist on so little.
The door lurched and she cringed, instinctively moving closer to Hazel. Her friend was asleep, as were all the others, or at least they were lying down and pretending to be. They were all so hungry, so cold and miserable, and she expected every day to be her last. Maybe the last for all of them.
A new prisoner was roughly shoved in, and Rose kept her eyes downcast until the guard disappeared, the door locked behind him. She leapt forward then and touched the woman’s face, seeing how badly they’d beaten her.
‘I’m a friend,’ she said quickly. ‘We all are in here.’
The woman smiled up at her, surprising Rose. The light was dim but not dark enough that she couldn’t see properly.
‘They’ll come back for you soon. They never leave you for long,’ Rose explained quickly.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ the woman whispered, moving and taking something from her waistband.
Rose was on her haunches and she moved back a little, worried until she saw that it was a crumpled piece of paper. There was a stirring behind her and Rose turned to see Hazel, rubbing her eyes and putting her feet on the concrete.
‘What is it?’ Rose asked.
The woman passed it to her and Rose read the words quickly before scanning them again, excitement building within her.
Take courage! We’re on our way!
She read the words again, and again, over and over, before passing the note back and turning to Hazel. Rose grabbed her and held her tight, hugging her as tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘We just need to stay alive a little longer,’ she whispered. ‘They’re coming. It’s truly happening.’
The next day, Rose and Hazel sat huddled together. Another woman was coughing, she’d been doing so for hours, and they were a sorry-looking bunch, all half-starved and looking close to death. But something was happening. The planes had continued to fly over, the air assault in full swing, and the bombs and gunfire had been going on all day. No guards had been to see them, there had been no heavy footfalls, but there had been yelling outside and it was obvious the mood had changed. The fighting was so close to them, the noise of war sending thrills through Rose as well as pangs of terror.
‘The Americans are at the gates!’ a guard yelled.
Rose screamed along with everyone else, terror blending with excitement blending with hope as they heard the frantic scream from outside.
‘They’re here! The Americans are here!’
She held Hazel’s hand, sitting still, hoping they wouldn’t be killed before they were saved.
‘We’re going to make it!’ Hazel said softly to her, her tear-stained cheeks a contrast to the brightness of her eyes.
‘We are,’ she whispered back, grasping her hand and rocking back and forth. Could they truly make it out of this alive?
They weren’t going to die. They weren’t going to die!
‘They’ve really come for us.’ Hazel’s words were barely loud enough to hear. Rose watched her as she stared straight ahead, before leaping to catch her as she sobbed and fell forward.
‘They’re going to save us, Hazel,’ she said. ‘The Americans are here!’
Rose breathed deep and gripped Hazel’s hand.
‘I want to go home,’ Hazel said quietly back. ‘I want to go home to London. I want to see my family and lie in my own bed.’
Rose understood. She craved home, too, even if everything would be different than before. She wanted to eat, to forget the deep gnaw of hunger in her belly that pained her every minute of every hour of every day.
A series of bangs echoed out as shots were fired outside. The door to their crammed cell opened and a soldier rushed forward.
‘Harry?’ Hazel muttered.
‘Hazel, get up!’ Rose ordered, wondering if her friend was becoming delirious. Why would she think Harry was here?
Hazel blinked up at her, eyes wide.
‘Get up!’ Rose said again. ‘Quickly!’
She scurried to her feet and Rose got a tight hold of her arm. It was over. Their nightmare in the prison was over.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and made her choke as she held tight to Hazel and watched the commotion around them, the world spinning as she tried to focus, tried to digest the reality that they’d been so close to death. The soldier scooped Hazel up, and Rose somehow managed to walk beside him as they moved through the prison. Outside, her eyes teared up from the bright light. She was squinting hard as if she’d never seen the sun before.
She looked across at Hazel, saw her matted hair and her bruised face, her cheeks so gaunt. How had they managed to survive?
‘It’s over,’ she told Hazel, collapsing into her friend as the soldier left them, calling out orders. There were soldiers everywhere and her head started to spin as she tried to watch them, tried to figure out what was going on.
‘It’s over,’ Hazel muttered back. ‘We’re going to make it home. We’re going to be fine.’
Rose started to laugh, her ribs screaming in protest at the movement. They were going home!
‘Vive la France!’ she whispered.
Hazel laughed back, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Vive la France indeed.’