chest was hot, lightly dotted with gems of sweat. ‘Love me again,’ I begged.
The days passed like a honeymoon. I made the most of it. Perhaps this time was the only time I would own Michael, as if he was my husband only for now. We could not have been closer during the golden hours together.
When he left me I waved as happily as if my heart wasn’t breaking and then I turned indoors, ran upstairs and flung myself on the bed and remembered every detail of our love and love-making, breathed in his smell from the pillows. At last I curled into a tiny ball and fell asleep.
It was early in the morning when I heard a thunderous knocking on my door. I knew instinctively I’d been found out—the Germans had come for me. It was Fritz.
Fritz came into the house and shared my breakfast—some weak tea and dry toast—every mouthful feeling like sawdust as I remembered Michael had gone.
‘We have an assignment for you; it’s dangerous.’ Fritz toyed with a crust of toast.
‘How kind, but I have to go to work or have you forgotten what you call “my cover”?’
‘Not today, idiot, today you must plead sickness, take time off. Today you will not be surprised when you hear the invasion of the Allies is to take place in Calais although we know different.’
‘So do the Germans, I thought that was part of the plan.’
‘It is but the enemy must be fooled into confusion.’
‘Germans are not that stupid,’ I said thinking of my friend Eva.
‘No, I grant you that, but lies and misinformation have been leaked through the right channels to convince the enemy that Normandy is just a sprat to catch a mackerel, you understand? We hope to send the enemy to Calais.’
‘I’d worked that out. And what is this “assignment”?’
‘You will help the incoming British troops to set up wireless signals at the bay now named “Sword”.’
‘I know that, I had the message, remember? In any case, the beaches are miles away.’
‘You have the jeep and you will have plenty of time to get to the coast, Anna.’
‘Anwn,’ I said. ‘I will not answer to anything but Anwn, it’s an ancient Welsh name.’
‘I don’t want you to look ancient.’ Fritz was just as stubborn as I was. ‘You must plait your hair, wear childish clothes. You still have the roundness of youth in your face. How old are you, Anna?’
I closed my mouth firmly. He capitulated.
‘How old are you,
‘Old enough.’ I was seventeen, a woman.
‘All right. Here’s a map. You will take the radio to “Sword” and there you will hand it over to a bona fide British radio engineer.’
‘How will I know him?’
‘He’ll stop being shelled and shot and make a formal introduction! Don’t be stupid. I will come there and take over from you.’
‘So I’ll take the risk of carrying the radio miles across the country and you’ll have all the glory.’
‘I’ll probably end up with a bullet in my guts,’ Fritz said.
‘And if I’m caught with the radio before you come?’
‘That’s all part of the deal. You can say no if you want.’
How could I say no? I nodded.
‘I’ll meet you on the road on the fourth to the sixth of June. The invasion is scheduled to take place, hopefully about then, though it could be later. The weather might make a difference. Anyway, remember to start off early in the morning, it’s a long drive.’
He went away and I sat over my cold cup of tea and wondered how on earth I’d come from the little town of Swansea to be a spy in Germany. I went to the window and tried to picture Michael, my last sight of him as he walked away from me. I was determined not to cry but I did anyway.
I arrived at work as usual and laid the groundwork for my ‘illness’. I grimaced at Eva as I sat down. ‘My monthlies are due, I’ve got belly ache.’ My German was very good by now, I’d almost lost any Welsh accent I’d brought with me. Luckily none of my friends knew the difference between Welsh, Scottish, English or Neutral Irish and by now no one could tell me from any other German citizen.
‘You look a bit pale,’ Eva said, ‘and your poor eyes are all baggy.’
I grinned. ‘Michael’s been home.’
Eva shot me a mischievous glance. ‘I have no sympathy then you lucky slut.’
I rubbed my stomach. ‘I’m paying for it now.’
‘You are still a lucky slut! I haven’t seen my man in months—I’m fancying anything in trousers these days. I foam at the mouth if Heinrich comes anywhere near me.’
Heinrich was a code maker and a code breaker and we all had great respect for him. He had bright eyes and pale gold hair and, as he rarely came into our little office, he was quite safe from Eva’s desires. In any case, she loved her husband desperately, just as I loved Michael; in that we had a bond. And I was about to betray her and all my German friends. I bent over my radio unable to hide my shame. My brief happiness with Michael had evaporated and I was once more back in the real world.
Fifty-Six
Hari heard voices above her. She tried to open her eyes but they were gritty with dust. She felt an arm hanging lifeless over her face and her memory came flooding back.
‘Kate!’ Her voice was a whisper although she felt as if she’d shouted out the name of her friend.
They were all dead, the children, the two men, Hilda—and Kate? ‘Kate?’ Dust filled her mouth and Hari gagged on it.
Someone tapped on the masonry above her and Hari tried to lift her head. She felt Kate’s body shift and tip sideways. ‘Oh Kate!’ Hari tried to move her arms but they were pinned by jagged pieces of bricks and mortar.
‘Help us.’ Her voice was faint but the tapping stopped. ‘Help us,’ she called again.
‘It’s all right,
The work was painfully slow but the light above her became steadily brighter, the weight gradually lifting away so that she could breathe more easily. Hari tried to lift her head again but her neck was wracked with pain and with a sob she fell back against the bricks again. All she’d seen for her effort was a glimpse of Kate’s hand with the wedding band shining golden in the light.
A lifeless, waxy hand smeared with blood. Her friend was dead, they were all dead. Hari couldn’t stop the gasps of grief and pain escaping from between her swollen lips. Tears scaled her grazed cheeks as she let herself slip away into a fog of darkness.
A week later Hari was discharged from hospital with little more than cuts and bruises. The nurse led her to the entrance. ‘You’ll have two black eyes for a while but you got off lightly, my girl.’
Hari shook her head. ‘Except that I lost people I love.’ Her tone was disconsolate. The nurse touched her shoulder sympathetically.
‘I see that here every day,’ she said gently, ‘we’ve got to keep telling ourselves we’ll win this damn war, somehow.’
Hari stood on the pavement. She felt cast adrift on a blank sea; she had no sister, no Michael and now, no Kate.
‘But you have father and Jessie and even poor old Georgie Porgie when he’s home from the front so stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ Her voice rasped as she scolded herself.
When she got home they all fussed around her. Jessie made her endless cups of tea, giving her a few precious aspirin and talking softly to her of the war being over one day. In the end, Hari went to bed worn out with tears, her head pounding, her eyes so swollen they were half closed.
She lay on her narrow bed and thought of the past, of before the war when she was free, of when she briefly had Michael in her arms.
