As they reached the castle grounds, a pair of German guards stopped them. ‘What have you managed to glean in the shops today?’ one asked in broken French.
Ella proffered her basket and he picked up one of the packages and sniffed it. He wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t know how you French can bear to eat such stinking cheeses.’ He tossed it back into the basket.
Ella smiled, keeping her eyes downcast. ‘It’s good with soupe à l’oignon,’ she said, surprised to hear the tone of her own voice was light and steady, not betraying the terror that made her heart thud in her chest behind the buttons of her coat. She nodded towards the other woman’s basket, which contained several large brown onions.
The Germans waved them on and they crossed back into the château. It was only once she was safely back in the warm stronghold of the kitchen that Ella drew in a deep gulp of air, realising she’d scarcely dared breathe since she left the house.
She’d done it! The first S-Phone was now safely delivered into the hands of the Résistance. She felt a rush of joy at the thought, then immediately gathered her wits about her. Angus had warned her: ‘Don’t relax your guard for a moment until you are safely back in the plane and out of enemy territory. Remember, the job’s not done until you are home.’
She sat quietly in a corner of the kitchen, watching the two women go about their daily chores, saying little, eating the food they offered her to keep her strength up and trying to stay focused on the evening to come.
Dusk fell and they retraced their steps through the darkened château and along the length of the gallery across the river. The woman covered her lantern before drawing back the bolts on the door and opening it a crack. Ella slipped out into the darkness, feeling a pang of longing, for a split second, to stay in the warm safety of the castle under the protection of these people who were risking their lives for her; but she forced herself to walk forwards, her heart thumping again beneath her heavy overcoat as she stepped across the drawbridge and out into the area of felled trees. She ducked down and hurried across the clearing to the cover of the forest, then paused to get her bearings and check her watch. Her guide was supposed to have been here by now. She scanned the woods, her eyes straining to catch a glimpse of dimmed torchlight. But all she saw was darkness and shadows. There was no sound, other than the quietly flowing river behind her.
And suddenly she felt very, very alone. She made her breathing as quiet as possible, calming the sense of panic that was welling up in her chest. Her guide was just late, that was all, she reassured herself. There was still plenty of time to get back to the tiny airstrip before the plane arrived to pick her up. She stood, leaning against the reassuring bulk of an ancient oak. A few acorns lay at her feet, and she stooped and picked one up, rubbing her thumb against its rough cap as she tried to stay calm.
The minutes ticked by. After almost an hour, she realised that it was now time to go if she was to make it to the rendezvous point in time. Desperately, she scanned the woods and the clearing one last time. Across the river, the white fairy-tale castle glinted in a ray of moonlight, a mythical place of safety that she could no longer get to.
She needed to stay focused, not to allow herself to be distracted by panicked thoughts of what might be lurking in the pitch-black shadows between the trees.
She had no option. She had to go.
Taking her bearings from the moon and the river, she set off in what she hoped was the right direction, trying to spot waymarks as she went, in case she got lost and needed to retrace her steps. But it was difficult in the dark woods and, once she’d turned away from the faint, moonlit glow of the river, she felt disorientated amongst the trees that pressed in all around her. She followed the narrow path – she thought it was the one they’d been on the night before – but the forest was criss-crossed by an intricate network of such trails, some made by human footsteps, others by animals. Every now and then she paused, straining to hear the sound of a breaking twig or to glimpse a dimmed torch between the trees, but there was nothing.
A ray of moonshine penetrated the canopy of leaves above her and she tilted her wrist towards it to read her watch. Ten more minutes until the plane would land. She needed to find the clearing, fast. She jumped as an owl hooted on a branch somewhere above her. Was it really an owl? Or was it a signal? She hesitated for a few precious moments, listening, hoping; but then she glimpsed the bird, swooping silently away on pale wings into the darkness. Which way now? She’d lost her bearings completely and the moon had disappeared again. She set off, almost blindly, panic thumping against the tight drum of her chest.
And then she heard it. The distinct thrum of the plane’s engine. She turned towards it. She’d gone off course, she needed to get there fast. Angus had warned her: ‘The pilot can’t wait, it’s just too dangerous. In and out fast, remember. If you’re not there . . .’ he’d tailed off.
Then he’d said, quietly, ‘Just be there, Ella.’
She was running now, stumbling over tree-roots, her breath coming in gasps, burning her throat. The engine noise grew to a roar as the plane flew directly over her, dropping towards the airstrip. ‘I’m here,’ she screamed, but the words were only in her head.
Desperately, she ran in the direction of the noise, which had descended to ground level somewhere ahead of her. Then the roar quietened suddenly as the plane drew to a halt, its engine idling. Running headlong now, she tripped and fell, sprawling on to the earth, scraping her hands on stones. She scrambled to her feet, no time to check the damage, and ran onwards.
And then the sound of the engine changed, picking up again as the plane turned and taxied. ‘No! I’m here! Come back!’ But again the screaming was only in her head.
She blundered onwards through the trees towards the noise, but the pitch changed and she knew the pilot was revving for take-off. She reached the edge of the clearing just as the plane left the ground at the far end of the runway and climbed steeply into the night sky.
Then she slumped down, her back against the trunk of a tree, trying to draw breath, but her inhalation took the form of a single, involuntary sob of despair.
Her palms stung and throbbed and she realised there was blood oozing from a deep cut just above the ball of her thumb. She reached into her coat pocket for a handkerchief to tie around it and then stood stock still because, off to her right, through the trees, she could see a bright light, weaving to and fro. She froze, shrinking back into the shadows, listening with every fibre in her body.
And then she heard the voices. Two of them. Speaking German.
They’d spotted the plane. Thank God it had got away in time. But the drop site was compromised. And she was in dire danger.
All of a sudden, a deathly calm descended over Ella. The panic she’d felt before evaporated. She waited, watching as the light drew closer. Silently, she slipped the knife from its sheath at her waist. And then she quickly unscrewed the button on her overcoat and felt for the hard capsule contained within it. She held the pill between her fingers, not wavering for a second. She knew what she would have to do. She waited.
In that moment, which seemed to stretch to a small infinity, she realised that she didn’t fear death; because it meant she would be where Christophe was.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to summon his face but, to her surprise, the face that she saw was Marianne’s, smiling at her gently, comforting her, reassuring her that she wasn’t quite so alone after all.
The German soldiers reached the far side of the clearing and swept the ground with their searchlight, illuminating the runway. The light flooded the corner where Ella stood and she pressed herself closer to the far side of the tree, praying they hadn’t seen her. She gripped the pill between her fingers a little more tightly.
One of the men stepped out into the clearing, backlit by his colleague’s torch, and began to walk in her direction. Ella raised the pill to her lips, still feeling ice-calm.
And then something very strange happened.
The light of the torch described a sweeping arc, up into the air above the trees, then fell again as the Nazi soldier sank silently to the ground. His colleague turned, shouting a question, and in the same split second, a single shot rang out.