‘Thank you.’ I took hold of Alex’s hand. ‘Come, darling.’
Alex glowered at the clerk for a final moment before stomping towards the room. He locked the door behind us and leant back against it. Slowly, his body slid to the ground, his forehead resting against his knees. I didn’t know whether to go to him or remain quiet. After a few moments, he spoke – his words so soft I had to struggle to hear.
‘I had to get out of there.’ He raised his head but looked through me. His blunt fingers pressed against his temples, disrupting the beads of sweat forming at his hairline. ‘I had to get out of there. They were taking too much notice of us.’
It was easy to forget that Alex wasn’t trained for a spy’s shadowland. For him, enemies were marked with crosses and friends with stars and circles. It wasn’t less dangerous, but it was straightforward. This couldn’t be easy for him. Hell, with all my training, it wasn’t easy for me.
I sank to the floor and rested a hand on his shoulder. There were no words that could make this situation right, but perhaps it would be enough to remind him that he wasn’t in this alone. He shook off my sympathy and lurched to his feet.
‘I’m fine. Just tired.’
Feeling strangely rejected, I moved out of his way, watching as he stumbled to the bed and fell across it, face down. He was still fully clothed, his legs hanging off the edge, when his breathing evened out.
I couldn’t promise him that things would be better in the morning. Couldn’t promise that we’d even see the new day, but whatever was coming, he needed to be ready. I unlaced his boots, gently pulling them off and putting them neatly beside the bed. Removed the socks, lightly touching a blister that had formed and broken some time during the day. He’d never complained. About anything.
I tried to be gentle when I pulled his legs onto the mattress, but didn’t dare remove any more clothing for fear of waking him. The lines began to fade and his colour returned. I closed the curtains and began to work on his papers, altering them as best I could. It didn’t need to be perfect, just good enough to withstand the cursory inspection of one Nazi to another.
Sinclair cried out, shuddered, and jerked upright, eyes wide and staring. He blinked a few times, orienting himself.
‘Are you always plagued by nightmares?’
‘What?’
‘You were tossing and turning. Once or twice you called out, but I couldn’t understand what you’re saying.’ Then I added: ‘Thank God.’
He sighed and rubbed the stubble bristling his face.
‘I was back in my Mozzie, getting shot down. Fielding was screaming. But this time, I couldn’t get out. Tim Fielding, my navigator, was a good man. Got himself hitched three months ago to a lass from Stirling. I stood up for him.’ He stared into the distance. ‘Christ, I have to tell Caroline.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The words were inadequate, but what else could I say? ‘At least you survived, Alex. They didn’t get you both.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘They didn’t. What time is it?’
The stubble gave him a dangerous look, but with the pride of Deutschland clean-shaven, he’d stand out in a heartbeat. We’d need to stop at a chemist for supplies, and not just for him. Auburn roots gleamed at my hairline, and if not many SS officers were bearded, not many Frenchwomen were redheads.
‘It’s just gone eleven.’
Rhythmic thumping from the next room indicated that at least someone was having a good time.’
A faint smile curled his lips. ‘What time is curfew?’
‘About five minutes ago.’
‘You’re not sleeping?’
‘No.’
‘Of course not.’ He stood up and stretched, vest pulled tight against a lean abdomen. I turned away as he reached for the shirt. ‘Ye want to check out those tracks?’
‘There’s no guarantee they’ll be there tonight, but linking up with the Resistance is our best chance. Take whatever you have – we won’t be coming back.’
Nodding, he inspected the papers before slipping them into his breast pocket and moving towards the door.
‘Not that way,’ I whispered, pulling the heavy drapes from the window.
‘Wait here.’
He stepped out of the window and disappeared into the night. He may have good instincts but one passing soldier, one question that couldn’t be answered, and there would be one less Scot.
Minutes dragged, plagued by doubts and fears before a twig snapped outside. It was likely Alex, but there were no guarantees. I fumbled for my gun and pointed it at the window.
Someone tapped on the glass and I held my breath. Another tap, and then, softly, he murmured my name.
‘Jesus!’
I slid the gun into my waistband and scrambled out of the window, grateful that the room was on the ground floor, and even more grateful that he hadn’t been picked up.
It took less time to reach the field than I anticipated. It was cloudier and the moon’s dim light was barely enough for us to find our way. An owl hooted and a fox screamed – the sound uncannily human. A flock of birds took flight from the other side of the field, winging their way north.
‘Someone’s there,’ he murmured. ‘Birds don’t move like that unless they’re startled.’
We reached for our guns, knowing we could be walking into a trap.
A twig broke somewhere ahead and Alex pushed me gently behind him. We crept forward in single file, unsure what we were creeping towards. It could just as easily be a group of Germans as the Resistance.
Any sensible person would get out of there. What’s wrong with you?
It wasn’t uncommon for the Germans to find a field, or some other place the Resistance used. They
