The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,107

hessian sack. The sack contained the component parts of a wireless radio. Madame Bisset built the radio and tuned into the BBC French service. As the service closed the newsreader said, ‘Les roses fleuriront cette année’ – ‘the roses will bloom well this year’. Madame Bisset shook her head when she heard this.

‘Tonight? No.’

Monsieur Bisset nodded. I saw tears rise in her eyes. ‘But how? Where is she to go? She is safe here, no?’

The wireless was put away with haste before anyone spoke further.

‘Prepare yourself, Juliet,’ he said, pushing the heavy dresser back to its place against the wall. ‘You are leaving tonight. Soon, in fact.’

Monsieur Bisset rested a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder and spoke over her head, looking at me directly across the table.

‘You are going home. An aircraft will come for you, shortly after one a.m.’

He opened a curtain and glanced out of the window.

‘There is a good moon and clear skies, but we must pray the mist does not gather in the valley.’

Madame Bisset stood. ‘Come,’ she said, her body sagged with weariness. ‘Let’s get you ready.’

I rose and followed Cecille up the stairs to my room.

I said the word over in my head – home.

On the one hand I was delighted, but there was still the matter of Edward. Where was he? I thought of our brief meeting on the night of the crash and recalled my suspicions about the agent who had chosen the fated field that night, thereby sealing the death of the Lysander. If I was ever to ask a question about Edward, it was now.

‘Cecille,’ I said, ‘I wonder, do you know if the parcel I was supposed to pick up on the night I landed is still in France? I was worried, you see, that the pick-up had been sabotaged by the agent … because the field was not at all suitable …’

I trailed off. Cecille shook her head.

‘I doubt that is possible, Juliette. I know that agent. He is a good man.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to question, or to criticise, it’s just … it’s been playing on my mind. My aircraft crashed into a drainage ditch, you see, and he said they must have been ploughed that day, but how did he not see the ditch and call off the drop?’

Cecille’s hand rested on my shoulder.

‘I will mention it to my husband,’ she said. ‘You will be home soon. Try not to worry.’

‘And also,’ I pressed awkwardly. ‘The agent I was supposed to take home that night. He was injured. Do you know what happened to him?’

I dreaded the answer but Cecille shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I do not know.’

At eight-thirty p.m. Madame Bisset handed me a thick woollen jumper to put on under my coat and kissed me on each cheek.

‘Safe journey, mon petit.’

I threw my arms around her while her husband looked on.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered through her hair. ‘I’ll pray for your continued safety every single day of my life until this terrible nightmare is over. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks.’

She stepped back, breaking our embrace.

‘I cannot promise that, Juliet.’ She took her husband’s hand. ‘I’m afraid we must continue to fight … to do whatever we can.’

I nodded my understanding, put the jumper on, fastened my coat and headed outside with Monsieur Bisset, who led me two miles across fields to a barn where he handed me back my pistol. I hid alone in the dark until a second agent appeared, who guided me a further mile across the Breton countryside to a dug-out under a hedge. He covered me in bracken and said, ‘Wait here.’ I asked for how long. ‘A while.’ came the answer. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Even when you hear the aircraft, don’t move.’

It was the longest wait of my life. I had no papers with me now. If the Germans caught me, I would have no cover story. Just after midnight, I heard a reassuringly familiar sound filter through the darkness – it was the sound of a Lysander, and to my absolute delight, I heard the pilot power the engines twice, just as I had done, as a signal of his arrival.

The aircraft landed. I still dare not move. But then the bracken was pulled away revealing the silhouette of a man whose right arm was in a sling. His whole body was backlit by the moonlight. The profile seemed familiar. I climbed out of the hole and looked at