CHAPTER FIVE
HAZEL
LONDON, ENGLAND
1943
Hazel noticed the smile on Officer McLeod’s face the moment she saw him. He looked amused, or . . . She stared back at him. She wasn’t sure what – maybe it was a look of smugness – but whatever it was, she was about to find out because he was beckoning her over.
‘Is there a problem, sir?’ she asked.
It had been a week since her interview with Smith, and just under a week since she’d waved her fiancé off for the third time, and she hadn’t heard a thing since. But she’d thought about the meeting plenty, including who might have recommended her for the job other than the man standing in front of her.
‘Seems I was right about you,’ he said. ‘You have another interview. In two hours’ time.’
She tried to stop her jaw from dropping. ‘Today?’
‘Yes. They don’t muck around.’
Hazel nodded. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of a second interview or what would happen next. She’d imagined she would have heard already if they wanted something more from her. ‘So does this mean . . . ,’ she started.
‘It means,’ her boss said, lowering his voice, ‘that they checked you out through MI5 and you were passed by the powers that be. It also means you were one of the few women to impress them in that first interview. I don’t put anyone forward lightly, but I’ve been watching you.’
‘Why?’ she asked, regretting the question the moment it had passed her lips.
‘I had a good feeling about you the moment I saw you plotting for the first time on your own, and the fact you speak fluent French is a huge advantage.’
Hazel felt her cheeks flush from his praise. ‘Well, thank you, sir. I’m honoured to be, well, to even be considered for this type of position.’ The truth was she still didn’t know what she was actually being considered for, but it was something secretive and important, and that meant it was something she needed to be doing. That is, if those in the know thought she was a suitable candidate.
‘You’re dismissed for the day to attend the meeting. If you don’t return, good luck and Godspeed with whatever it is you are assigned to.’
He dismissed her with a nod and a smile, and she walked away in a daze. She felt she was on the verge of something huge. Women in particular seemed to be in demand for this Resistance movement – perhaps because the higher-ups felt women could go more under the radar, so to speak, than men – and the very thought of being involved in something so covert, in the field, was enough to send her heart racing and her stomach swirling.
‘Thank you for seeing me again at such short notice,’ Smith said.
Hazel felt more nervous this time than she had the first. Maybe it was because she somewhat knew what to expect. Or maybe it was because she knew her life might be about to change for ever.
‘Are you able to tell me why I’m here now?’ she asked, proud that her voice sounded so strong.
His mouth tilted upwards slightly from its previously straight line. ‘What do you know of the SOE?’ He cleared his throat. ‘The Special Operations Executive.’
She stared back at him. What was she supposed to know about it? ‘Well, I know it’s a secret operation, that it’s part of this whole Resistance movement.’
‘In short, what you need to know is that the SOE is about getting close to the enemy,’ Smith said, sitting in the chair and looking more at ease than he had the other day. This time around felt less like an interrogation and she was relieved. ‘It also involves working in France.’
Hazel smiled. ‘I see. Which is why you wanted to know about the depth of my language skills and understanding of more than just Paris.’
‘Before we go any further, I need you to know that if you want to be part of this, if we take you on and send you to France, there is a great risk you won’t make it back to London alive.’
She gulped, her heart starting to race though she tried to stay calm. ‘What are the odds?’ she forced herself to ask.
‘It’s a fifty-fifty chance,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to sugarcoat the probability of any of our field agents’ making it back safely.’
‘I see,’ she replied, not sure what else she possibly could say.
‘These are clandestine operations, and you would be in the thick of it, for the sake of a better description. Your language skills are what make you most attractive to us, and the fact that you have already spent time immersed in the culture. That indicates to us that you would fit in easily, that you wouldn’t be caught out simply for not being a Frenchwoman if you were undercover there.’
‘Am I being offered the position then?’ she asked, folding her hands tightly in her lap to avoid them shaking so obviously.
‘If we proceed, you will receive training, and then you will most likely be sent immediately to France on your first mission. We cannot discuss the work you will do until that time, but you must know that it will be dangerous work, and that your ability to converse in French, pass information along and work closely with other individuals will be imperative to the missions. My instinct is that you’ll be most useful to us as a radio operator in the field.’
Hazel understood. It would be risky, but it was also important work, and if she said no, then she was hardly doing the best by her country or those she loved.
‘I want to do whatever I can, no matter how dangerous the work is,’ she said, sounding far more confident than she felt. ‘I won’t let you down.’
‘If you are captured in France, the Germans will not treat you well for the mere fact you are a woman. I need you to understand that.’
She gulped. ‘I understand.’
‘You could be captured, tortured and killed,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’m not going to tell you otherwise, because we need men and women committed to the cause and prepared for anything. You are free to leave at any stage, which is why we don’t want you proceeding if you don’t understand from the outset what you’re putting yourself forward for. You must fully appreciate the dangers at play here.’
‘I understand,’ she managed, finding the words hard to get out.
‘Then take the night to sleep on it. Go home and rest, consider the position you would be putting yourself in,’ Smith said. ‘But this is a decision for you to make alone. No one is to know of this, of anything that we’ve discussed. Do you understand?’
She answered without hesitation. ‘I do.’
‘We will meet here again tomorrow at the same time. You must volunteer to work for us, and once you’ve done that, you’ll be recruited immediately.’
Hazel took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me and I won’t let you down.’
He nodded and rose, then opened the door and stood back. Just like that, their meeting was over and she was left to think about what she was supposed to do. She wanted to help, of course she did, and she hadn’t been lying about being prepared to do whatever she had to. So many men had given their lives already to this war, and if she could do something to make a difference, then didn’t she owe it to her country to do so?
Now, there was not a doubt in her mind that she would be volunteering for this position, one she wouldn’t even believe could have been offered to her if she hadn’t heard it with her own ears. She pushed away thoughts of her parents, or John or her mother-in-law. She didn’t need their permission to do this. Women were doing amazing things while their men were away, and she wasn’t married yet, which meant her decisions were her own to make. And what decision could be more important and selfless than one to help their allies? If she could put her French to good use, then she would. And she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her.
There was only one sentence that kept playing in her mind. Fifty-fifty. He’d said there was a fifty-fifty chance of not coming back. She gulped and steeled her jaw, head held high. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but having as much of a chance of coming home as not making it wasn’t something she’d ever truly thought about. Still, it didn’t change her mind. It couldn’t. Because they were at war. And war meant taking chances and facing the prospect of life never being the same again.
She turned back around and knocked firmly on the door. When Smith opened it, she smiled at him. ‘Turns out I don’t need the night to think about it. This is me volunteering,’ she said firmly.
He nodded, not looking at all surprised. ‘Welcome to the SOE.’
Hazel bit the inside of her mouth as she tried not to smile. Before the war, most of her family had expected nothing from her other than to become a good wife and be able to hold good conversations. It was why her mother had been so interested in sending her to France. Little did her parents know that one day they’d come to regret that decision, because she knew they wouldn’t approve at all of what she was offering to do.
‘So I’m in?’ she asked. ‘This is actually happening?’
He stood and offered her his hand. She stared at him for a moment before following his lead, placing her palm to his. ‘Yes, Hazel, you’re in. So long as you pass the training, which I’m confident you will, you’ll be putting your skills to use in the field.’
She could hardly believe it.
‘I wish you the best of luck,’ Smith said, releasing her hand. ‘You’re doing your country a great service, and once this war is over, your assistance will always be remembered.’
Hazel beamed. ‘You never told me what to tell my family.’ It was the only thing she was worried about, because she had to tell them something, couldn’t simply disappear in the dead of night, and she had to tell John’s family something, too.
‘To be honest, the less anyone close to you, including your immediate family, knows, the better. If they’re ever questioned it would be better for everyone involved if they didn’t know a thing.’
Hazel gulped. The weight of her decision was suddenly heavy on her shoulders. He still hadn’t told her what to say; instead he’d told her what not to say.
‘I understand,’ she replied, her confidence slowly draining out of her.
‘Good. I’ll be in touch with more information, but you’ll most likely spend a couple of weeks training and going through the recruitment phase. Then you’ll head to Scotland for your paramilitary training should you pass the first level.’
She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as she listened to him speak. Paramilitary training? The idea of it made her head spin, but then she had no idea what she’d been expecting. Of course she needed training! It wasn’t like she was going to be tucked safely in a room deciphering and translating messages. This was war.
‘Godspeed,’ Smith said, dismissing her.
Hazel swallowed and summoned her courage back, standing straight and taking a deep breath. ‘And to you, sir. Thank you for your time.’
Hazel had never been so nervous in all her life. From the moment she’d told Smith she was officially volunteering two weeks earlier, to finding out what was required of her, it had been a whirlwind of activity. She was half expecting to wake from a dream, it was so surreal. Now, she was arriving at a house in the countryside that looked so peaceful from where she was standing, but was home to the SOE training and recruitment. The fact she was doing work that had previously been reserved strictly for men sent a hum of anticipation through her, adrenaline urging her on. And Smith’s final words to her were still playing through her mind days later.
‘We need to set Europe ablaze. And women like you will be the ones doing this, because you can blend in and no one will suspect a thing unless you’re caught.’
‘This is Wanborough Manor?’
She glanced beside her at the man who’d spoken. They’d travelled together on the train and he was pleasant enough, but Hazel had been so worried that it was a test that she hadn’t known what to say to him. Was she supposed to let on what she was doing, discuss anything with him about their training? Or was he already undercover, travelling with her to see how easy it was to get her to talk? She’d already been given her undercover story, which they called their legend, and she wasn’t stupid enough to let someone fool her before she’d even begun.
‘I suppose it is,’ she replied carefully. ‘Shall we go in?’
They’d come to a quiet, peaceful area of Surrey, and an Elizabethan house loomed before them. She had no idea what to expect, but she did know that she’d be doing things here she’d never in her lifetime imagined.
There were two men outside the house and she approached them cautiously.
‘We’ve been expecting you,’ one of them said.
‘I’m Hazel.’ She gave her real name because she hadn’t been told not to, although she chose not to reveal her surname to make her identity somewhat harder to verify.
‘I know,’ he said drily. ‘This way.’ Her travelling companion was speaking to the other man as Hazel was led away.
She guessed the beautiful manor had been requisitioned, as many had during the war, and she was sad to see how dusty and unkempt it was, even though it still looked so regal from the outside. She could imagine how it would have looked before the war, no doubt full of servants and with everything inside gleaming.
There was little time to look around, though, as she followed the man through the house, clutching her bag in one hand and her coat in the other. She played through her story in her head, something she’d been doing constantly for the past two days: she was a French student, loved art history and had friends in England.
‘Sit.’
She looked up. The man she’d been following was pointing to a chair. She expected him to leave and for someone else to arrive, but instead he sat down.
‘What is your name?’ he asked in French.
Hazel gave a coy smile, ready to play her role. She was a Frenchwoman, so of course she wouldn’t hesitate to answer in French.
‘Hazel,’ she said. ‘And yours? Tell me, what is it you’re doing here?’
‘Ralph,’ he said. ‘Well done.’ He was speaking in English now.
‘If you want to check I have my story straight, I won’t disappoint you,’ she assured him. ‘What I don’t know is how to stay alive in the field. That’s what I need help with.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Just stay out of the cooler and you’ll make it through.’
Hazel’s eyebrows shot up and she cursed the fact that she’d reacted at all. ‘The cooler?’
‘It’s where we send the failed recruits to cool off,’ he explained. ‘Build rapport with those around you, show us that you’re capable of being in uncomfortable situations or meeting new people. Then we’ll move on to training you.’
‘Thank you for the advice,’ she replied.
‘Oh, and don’t forget you can change your mind at any stage. This is dangerous work and we only want people in the field, man or woman, who have volunteered to be there.’
Hazel understood that. She was surprised at how often it had been said, though, especially when all of their men had been sent off without any concern for whether or not they wanted to be soldiers. But then she supposed the type of work she’d put herself forward for needed the person to be absolutely focused on the task. It was something she’d tried not to overthink for fear of changing her mind.
‘Help yourself to a drink while you’re waiting.’ He stood, turned and pointed to a bottle of liquor and two glasses.
She stared at him, wondering if it was a trick. ‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s more of an order. Enjoy.’ And with that he left the room.
Hazel felt as if she was in some sort of dream world. She’d hardly ever had anything alcoholic to drink in her life, and she wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t drink, but it seemed like a test to her.
‘Hello again.’
She glanced back and saw the man she’d travelled up with. For some reason she’d expected to be with other women, even though it had been made clear to her that both men and women were part of the network.
‘Seems we’re supposed to have a stiff drink together,’ he said.
‘I see.’ Hazel sat and watched him cross the room and pour amber liquid into the glasses. When he returned she stood and took one from his outstretched hand, then clinked her glass to his.
‘To being here,’ he said.
‘To being here,’ she replied, and took a small sip. The liquor burnt as it traced a fiery path down her throat and all the way to her stomach, and she tried not to cough.
She almost wanted to tell him that she was engaged, not to get any ideas, but as she bravely took another sip, eyes watering as she swallowed it down, she realised that she wasn’t that girl any more. She wasn’t John’s fiancée, wasn’t waiting for her man to come home and doing her best until then. She wasn’t even truly Hazel any more. From this moment forward she needed to live and breathe her cover story. Today was the beginning of her new life, and there was no way she was going anywhere near the cooler.
She sat down again, reclined and smiled at her companion. They might be enemies for all she knew, which meant that she was about to charm this man and everyone else she came into contact with. She felt alive. For the very first time in her life, she’d chosen to do something, something that wasn’t expected of her, something that no one would ever have expected her to do.
‘What do you think we’re supposed to do here?’ he asked.
She smiled, feeling like an actor on a stage as her character gave her confidence and she breathed life into the person she was set to become.
‘I suppose they want to see if we can hold our liquor,’ she said, shrugging as she confidently took another sip. ‘I’m more used to wine from one of our local vineyards, but this will do.’
He stared back at her, wide-eyed. For a moment she thought perhaps he hadn’t understood her French, and then she realised that he simply hadn’t been expecting the first proper conversation he’d had with her to be in character. They didn’t know who was watching them or what they were being judged on, though, so she wasn’t taking any chances.
‘Were you born in London?’ she asked. ‘I’ve only been here a short while. My parents sent me here to be closer to friends, but all I want is to go back home.’
By the time Ralph returned, she’d already filled her glass again, the burn no longer so bad when she swallowed, her body warm. She could feel her head starting to spin as she stood, the effects of the liquor so much greater when she was on her feet. She was surprised at how well she’d been able to tolerate it so far, although she was certain she’d have a decent headache in the morning. Hazel only hoped she’d done the right thing and the challenge hadn’t been about temptation.
‘We like to see how well you all do under the influence,’ Ralph said. ‘It can make it so much easier to become impulsive and forget one’s legend.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said with a smile.
‘I want you both to follow me,’ Ralph said, beckoning with his hand. ‘I have some things to show you.’
She followed, the other recruit falling in behind her. They were led into a room that was bare except for a table covered in tools, things that Hazel had never seen before. She took a few deep breaths, trying to block out the effects of the alcohol. She hated the way it had made her head feel woozy, whereas when she’d been seated earlier it had given her more confidence and made her feel like she could do anything.
‘What are these?’ she asked, about to reach out when a stern word stopped her.
‘No.’
She pulled back her hand as if she’d been stung but continued staring at the contraptions.
‘If you were out for the night and having a few drinks, and somehow your cover was blown, you could be captured and taken in for questioning.’
She slowly swallowed and stood up straighter.
‘These are some of the things the Germans might use to get you to talk. For instance, this here,’ he said, holding up a metal object that looked like a tiny guillotine and made her stomach churn, ‘is excellent for taking fingers off. The enemy finds that the more pain they inflict, the more likely their subjects are to tell them everything they need to know.’
Hazel glanced sideways and saw that her drinking partner looked white as a sheet. She was trying her hardest not to let the shock register.
‘And that?’ she asked, her voice sounding shaky even to her own ears as she pointed at an unusual metal device that appeared to be a clamp of some kind.
‘That could be to hold out a tongue or cut it off. But often they’ll just use knives to get what they want.’
‘How long would this go on for?’ the man beside her asked.
He received a shrug in reply. ‘Hours, days? Your guess is as good as mine. The best answer is probably until they get information out of you. Either way you’d probably be shot dead or left to rot at best.’
‘So we mustn’t get caught,’ Hazel said. ‘The point of your story is that no matter what, we mustn’t get caught, and even if we’ve been drinking we need to be able to talk ourselves out of any situation and not let even the smallest mistake give away our legend.’
‘I see we have a fast learner amongst us. Good work.’
‘Is it true that we have just as much of a chance at coming home as dying over there?’ Hazel asked.
Ralph leaned against the wall, his expression sombre. ‘It’s true. It’s about even whether you’ll make it home or not, and it’s one of the reasons we give you every opportunity to pull out if you’re not sure about what you’re doing.’
‘How many have you lost?’ she asked, needing to know more about what she’d be facing. The more she knew, the better she could deal with it all.
‘That’s not information I can share with you. But I will tell you this,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘One of our operatives, a woman who was one of our best, was under suspicion for some reason. She was caught because she looked the wrong way when she crossed the road. It was as simple as that – their suspicions were confirmed instantly when they saw that she wasn’t a true Frenchwoman.’
Hazel’s mouth went dry. The weight of what she was putting herself forward for was starting to rest more heavily on her shoulders. ‘She was killed for this?’ She had to ask the question.
‘Yes. Her life was over because of one thing she did that gave her away as not being French.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ her travelling companion said, stepping forward. ‘You’re trying to scare us on our first day to see who turns tail and runs for the hills.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Hazel said, finding her voice again. ‘We already knew the chances, we came into this knowing the odds.’
‘Take a look over these things.’ Ralph gestured at the grotesque instruments. ‘Familiarise yourself with them, train yourself to fear them enough that you won’t ever let yourself be put in a position where they’re used on you. You need to find a balance between fear and bravery, and remember that nothing is as crucial to you as living and breathing your legend, and staying smart every second of every day when you’re in the field.’
Hazel absorbed his words. She wasn’t in this to end up dead or tortured, but he hadn’t scared her any more than she’d already been scared, either. This was her calling. She’d never felt so strongly about doing anything in her life, and she didn’t even know what was required of her yet. All she knew was that whatever her field assignment was, she’d be responsible for helping to bring down the Nazis and their network, and that was all she needed to know.
‘When do we start our training?’
‘Tomorrow. If you make it until the end you’ll be here for three or four weeks. You’ll learn Morse code and be given instruction in explosives.’
A tremor ran through Hazel’s body; she didn’t know if it was fear or excitement, or perhaps a combination of the two. Never in her life had she thought she’d be learning about explosives or understanding how to translate and send codes. Yet here she was.
‘Can we make a start tonight?’ she asked.
‘You don’t get points for trying to be teacher’s pet here.’
She laughed. ‘You have me all wrong. I just want to learn everything I can to increase my odds of getting back home at the end of all this.’
She received a smile for her joke, although she noticed that her fellow prospect was not laughing. He had his arms folded across his chest, and his face was impossible to read, mouth in a tight line.
‘What is it you want to learn first?’
‘I want to know how to protect myself,’ she said. ‘If I’m caught and there’s a chance of surviving, I want to know what to do.’
She’d always been the friendly girl, the happy girl, the girl who’d make a lovely wife and was a good best friend. But here, it was like she was playing a character, being someone she’d never dreamed she could be, and she liked this stronger version of herself.
‘You’ll need to pass beyond this level to get to weapons training, but I promise you that we’ll teach you everything we can while you’re here.’
She opened her mouth to say something in reply, then shut it when he started to speak again.
‘To be honest, as useful as all that will be, your ability to speak perfect French and blend into your surroundings without being discovered is the best weapon you have. I can’t stress enough that you must practise your language skills and become up to date on the current situation in France. The more you know, the more chance you have of not being discovered.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, relieved. If there was one thing she knew, one thing she’d excelled at in school and when she’d been sent abroad, it was how to speak perfect French and be mistaken for a local.