‘Sorry, Soph, I heard what happened. Take all the time you need, and we’ll see you back soon.’
She nodded at the receiver, her eyes brimming with tears again. ‘I’m going to go down to Cornwall for a break, if you’re sure that’s okay.’
‘Of course. It’s quiet now the exhibition has started. All I’m going to be doing this week is paperwork. Take all the time you want.’
She turned off her phone and went to pack a bag. Sophie had read that boats used to transport agents to France, setting off not far from where Vivienne lived, which was something she wanted to investigate more. Also, there had to be more records down there of the Cornish war effort. Maybe if she looked around in the local museums, she’d find something. Sophie also hoped she might get a chance to go through the family attic. There was so much stuff up there, and what might have seemed unimportant to her relatives may lead to more information about Vivienne.
She left her cat, William, with her next-door neighbour, who adored him. Then Sophie packed her boot and filled her car with petrol, willing herself forward, fighting the terrible sinking feeling whenever she thought about Matt. Sometimes the gravity of the end of it would knot up her stomach and make her feel desperate. But she couldn’t think of anything better to help clear her head than a trip down to Cornwall. The beaches and the open spaces would be the perfect remedies to forget about her life in the city. Sophie took a deep breath, and then, getting into her car, she knew, somehow, that when she came back she would not be the same person. She would be a new version of herself, braver and more together. As she set off, she thought of Vivienne before her life became so complicated, setting off on her mission in 1943, when she was working for SOE. Sophie reminded herself she had that same blood running in her veins and would focus on being as brave as her aunt. She hoped that in unravelling this part of her family history, she might just be able to gather up those loose threads and weave them back into her own life so it made sense again.
10
1943
On her first full day in Paris, Vivi woke early but found Yvette already downstairs sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her. Maman’s kitchen was alive with cooking smells and lively banter between a mother and daughter.
‘I have such plans for us today. Maman has packed us a little picnic, and I will be your guide so you can see all the charms of my city.’
Yvette’s mother scolded her with her gaze, hissing, ‘This is not a sightseeing excursion, Yvette. Her desire is to identify what is going on here to do with the war. You need to be vigilant so that no one observes you paying too much attention. You understand this, of course?’ She directed the last question to Vivi.
Vivi nodded. ‘They have trained me in surveillance,’ she informed her hostess.
After breakfast, the two young women, just a few years apart in age, took off touring the city and quickly fell into a pattern. When they came across German bases or activities, they both got off their bikes and pretended to inspect a wheel or be working to adjust the seat while Vivi looked through the spokes or surreptitiously glanced over the handlebars, attempting to take in as much information as she could in the manner they’d trained her. Familiarising herself with everything the Germans were doing in the city, and where they were based, was an essential part of her work. Vivi paid particular attention to the Renault factory that the Allies were interested in destroying. This had been identified as the location of where the enemy was producing vehicles for the German war effort.
Around lunchtime they discarded their bikes along the banks of the Seine, where Yvette unpacked the basket with cheese, bread and apples. As they gazed out across the water, they fell into easy conversation, where it didn’t take Yvette long to relax into confessing all of her fears to Vivi.
‘What if I never have a chance to meet a boy I could fall in love with? This crazy war is taking all the good men to work for the Germans. And anyway I could be dead tomorrow, and I will never experience what it is like to be kissed or