CHAPTER NINE
ROSE
BREST, FRANCE
1943
The days and weeks had passed quickly, and Rose could hardly believe that it was almost a month since she’d been recruited by Josephine. Now she was anxiously waiting for the cover of darkness, part of Josephine’s covert monthly operation to ferry men to safety.
She sighed, feeling restless. The submarine was scheduled to come when the moon was but a sliver in the sky. Only then, once every four weeks, would they send the rowboats to shore to collect the allies needing transport, which meant that she had a dangerous ride on her bicycle ahead of her.
Rose touched her stomach, something she would never have done if she hadn’t been alone staring out the window into the dusky early evening. She hadn’t felt her baby move. She wasn’t even sure she was supposed to yet, but she wasn’t about to ask anyone, not even Josephine, for advice.
By her estimates she was about four months along now, which meant that soon her rounded stomach would be more noticeable, harder to hide from those she saw and worked with on a regular basis. She’d hide it for as long as she could, the baby growing inside her the only connection she had to Peter now.
She blinked and shook her head as if to banish all thoughts of him. These days she refused to go there, never let her mind wander to what could have been, but their baby was a constant reminder. Of why she hated the war, of what she was fighting for, of what she could have had.
Darkness would be upon them within the next half hour, and Rose took a sip of water and cleared her throat. It was time to go.
‘Come on,’ she said, knocking on the stairs to alert her visitors to come down. ‘It’s time.’
They would make part of the journey to the coast in the dark, but for the first part they needed some light to navigate their way by bicycle. From then on it was a slow walk, trying to avoid being seen by the German guards stationed all along the coast.
‘We’re ready.’ The two downed British airmen, Thomas and Charles, whom she had been hiding for the past two weeks, made their way silently down the stairs.
The warm British accent made her smile; it had been nice listening to their perfect English, and she knew she’d miss their company terribly once they were gone.
‘We have two bicycles and three of us, so I propose I sit on the handlebars and navigate,’ she suggested. ‘We need to make our way quickly, keeping hidden as much as possible.’
They nodded and she ushered them out the door. Her heart was pounding, every sense in her body on high alert. She’d saved these men, found them before the Germans could and rescued them from their parachutes. She was fast, and she had a home to stow them in, which meant she’d been in charge of their immediate rescue and getting them to safety. It had been Josephine’s job to find somewhere to hide the damaged parachutes so no one found them and ended up chasing their trail. It had been an exhilarating four weeks, and Rose had lost men already who’d not made it past their injuries, but it was worth it for the two she’d saved. Her own injury had healed well, and she was surprised by how little she thought of the day she’d been shot.
Josephine had two men at her home, too, and there was another operative Rose hadn’t met yet who would be ferrying her own men. And they were only the women in her immediate area. The thought of so many women up and down the coastline making a difference, saving their allies and making sure men made it home to their families, put a huge smile on her face.
‘Come on.’
Rose waited for the men to steady themselves and then she hopped up on to the handlebars, wobbling to start with and then settling in. She’d have a sore bottom by the end of it, but she had no intention of complaining.
She held on tight, staying focused and scanning constantly. If they were seen, they were as good as dead. Up to a point, she could lie and pretend she was injured, announce her pregnancy or something, but covering for the men would be much harder. Their French was terrible and they’d be arrested or killed immediately.
The journey was bumpy and silent, and by the time she put a hand out to slow them down, reaching to touch the arm of her British driver – given that it was almost dark and she was worried he wouldn’t see her signal – her bottom was completely numb. Every now and again she wondered if it was sensible to do things like this whilst pregnant, but she didn’t dwell on the work she did. She couldn’t. Otherwise she’d start to worry and overthink her actions, when what she needed to do was trust her instincts and do what came naturally.
‘We need to hide the bikes now,’ she said in a low voice. It was an eerie feeling, being in the dark, surrounded by trees that could be concealing Germans. A shudder ran down her spine but she pushed her fears away. ‘I need them tucked away, but somewhere I can easily find them on my way back,’ she said.
The men worked quickly and she stood with her back to them, straining her eyes in the darkness in case they were being watched. She was certain they’d have been shot by now if anyone had seen them, but she also knew that the enemy could follow them to learn more about what they were doing and where they were going.
‘Come on,’ she hissed once they were finished. She led the way, finding it weird that she was the one in charge of the soldiers. The respect all of the Englishmen had given her was incredible, their attitude making her feel like their superior. But then she figured they were simply grateful to be alive, and to have a way out of an enemy-occupied country.
Rose kept walking, careful with every footfall. She heard a noise and dropped low, waving her hand for the others to do the same. She lay still, her breath heavy and loud to her own ears, and listened for the crackle of footsteps, but no noise followed. She held her breath as she stood and lifted her head, certain the instant snap of gunfire would follow, but there was nothing.
‘Hurry,’ she said, moving faster now. The last thing she wanted was to be late to their rendezvous point and have to risk taking the men back home with her for another month. Not only would it be dangerous, but she wouldn’t have the space to hide others, and they needed every hiding place they could find with so many downed airmen to rescue. Their network involved a lot of locals, but there were only a few of them tasked with getting the rescued men out of France.
After walking in silence for what felt like an hour, Rose slowed down once they reached the beach. They were close to where the men would be collected, and she prayed that there weren’t any German guards patrolling this part of the coast.
‘We need to lie down,’ she instructed. ‘No moving, no talking.’
Fingers around her wrist made her pause. The dark had completely swallowed the air around them, which meant it was almost impossible to make out the two men with her.
‘Do you want me to dig out some sand?’ he asked, his voice a whisper, and she realised it was Thomas. ‘It might help to conceal us if we’re partially submerged.’
She nodded and then realised he probably couldn’t see the movement. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘Good idea.’
They all dug into the sand and lay on their stomachs, facing the water. All they had to do now was wait, and pray that no one saw them. The wait seemed endless, but finally she heard it – the sound of an owl, a sound she’d mimicked and practised until she could make the noise as perfectly as the bird itself. She waited and listened again, just in case it was a German who’d figured out their calls.
The familiar owl sounded again, and Rose sighed with relief. It was Josephine. Rose made the noise straight back, twice, before standing and searching with her eyes frantically for her friend. In the end Josephine and her group almost ran straight over the top of them. Rose caught her arm, stopping her from falling, and pulled her down low. The two men Josephine had with her fell down beside them.
‘Thank God you’re here safe,’ Rose whispered, hugging her friend tight.
‘You too.’
They lay low, staying silent until another call was made. This time it was Josephine who made the owl noise back, and within seconds they were on their feet. Rose wondered if her friend’s heart was pounding as hard as hers was.
Rose turned first to Thomas and wrapped her arms tight around him, fighting tears when he kissed her cheek. He’d lived with her for over two weeks now, in her house with her every hour of every day, and she’d miss his company terribly.
‘You be careful with that arm of yours and make sure to tell your wife how much you love her when you get home,’ she whispered quickly.
Then she gave Charles a hug, too, kissing his cheek. ‘Get home safely,’ she said. ‘Now, head straight for the water. Wade out as far as you can – you’ll be able to make out the rowboats further out into the water. They’ll get you safely to the submarine.’
As soon as they moved away she breathed a sigh of relief and dropped low again, on her stomach and reaching for Josephine’s hand. She listened, ears straining, making out the sound of water breaking as the men entered. Waiting was painful. She was certain she’d hear shots or German voices, but much to her surprise she didn’t hear a thing.
She shut her eyes and saw Thomas and Charles smiling, imagined them clambering into the rowboats, felt their relief as they realised they were about to be saved and sent home. She imagined all this in her mind even as her body stayed on high alert, certain the illusion was going to be shattered. But miraculously it wasn’t.
Rose stayed where she was, in the dark, burrowing further down into the sand beside her friend. It was too dangerous to leave just yet; they couldn’t see anything and needed to wait until there was the tiniest slither of light to make their way safely. If the Germans found them now, well, they had nothing to hide. The English airmen were gone and the enemy could do what they liked with her. It would be Josephine she’d do anything to save, not herself.
Rose forced her eyes to stay open and made herself comfortable. Just her, the woman nestled beside her, and the tiny baby in her belly.
Rose’s arms felt like they were going to break, they were aching so badly. The moment the sky had started to lighten she’d made her way quickly back to where the bicycles had been hidden, parting ways with Josephine. It was too dangerous for them to travel together; it was better for one of them to be caught than both.
Rose had uncovered one of the bicycles. She would have to come back for the other later and pray nobody found it in the meantime. Cycling home had been long and exhausting, and she was constantly fearful of being discovered, but she was almost there and in record time. As she neared her cottage she stopped, surveying the other houses, being careful to spot anyone who might be watching or lurking around. The homes closest to hers were full of supporters who’d risk anything to save their fellow countrymen and -women, but she was always cautious. All it took was one person, one traitor, to rip their network open and put an end to all the good work they were doing.
She breathed slowly, her heart beating fast, legs shaky from the exertion. Her stomach cramped but she did her best to ignore it. She’d had pains on and off for a few hours now, but she was certain it was hunger pangs given how long it had been since she’d eaten. Josephine was no doubt feeling the same from the sheer exhaustion of what they’d done.
Rose decided to walk now, going the rest of the way on foot and pushing the bicycle beside her. She felt uneasy, but that didn’t surprise her.
She came closer to the house and went to place the bicycle around the back against the stone wall, but a low moan made her stop. What on earth was . . . ? She gasped and leaned the bicycle hurriedly against the side of the house, running to her back door. There was a woman lying there, curled into a ball. She was bleeding but Rose couldn’t see where her wound was or what had happened.
‘Help me. Please, help me.’
Rose dropped to her knees as her stomach twinged again. ‘Tell me, what happened?’ she said in a low voice, worried someone could be watching them or listening. ‘Who did this to you?’
The woman turned on to her back slightly, eyes locking on Rose.
‘Tell me your name,’ the woman murmured.
‘Rose,’ she said, smiling down at her. ‘I’ll help you get inside. Come on.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I . . . can’t,’ she rasped. ‘Wrong . . . name.’
Rose stared at the woman, taking her hand and holding it tight. She needed to get her inside and fast.
‘Are you looking for Josephine?’ she whispered. ‘It’s too dangerous to go to her house. I’ll hide you here.’
The woman grasped her hand back, her hold weak but the look on her face telling Rose that she was holding as tight as she could.
‘Help me,’ she murmured, trying to sit up. ‘Please, help me.’
Rose somehow found the strength to pull both herself and the woman on to their feet. She looked down, wondered what the wetness on the inside of her legs was. She gasped, seeing blood and realising it was her own. A crippling pain tore through her belly and she fought not to cry out.
‘You need to tell her,’ the woman whispered, her lips cracked and dry as Rose stifled her own pain to stare at the woman in her arms. ‘Tell her they need to know the fox has fallen down a hole. Please.’
Rose nodded, numb but determined to keep going no matter what was happening, not understanding the coded language but knowing how important it must be. But it was the baby. It had to be the baby. She was losing her baby, she knew it, and there was nothing she could do.
‘Repeat the words to me, and don’t tell a soul that you’ve found me. Only her.’
‘The fox has fallen down a hole,’ Rose repeated, her hands shaking as she managed to drag the woman with her. She reached out and turned the door handle, pushing the door open with her back as she did her best to haul them both inside.
She wasn’t going to let this woman fall into the wrong hands, instinctively knowing how important she could be. Even if Rose was fighting for her own life and that of her child.