Harpers Heroes Page 7

  6

  Marco looked at the officer. He’d been asked to meet Major Richardson informally for a drink at the man’s private club in London and a little tingling at the nape of his neck was warning him that he might live to regret this day.

  ‘You’re wondering why I’ve asked you here?’ Major Richardson said and smiled, reminding Marco of a crocodile before it snapped up its prey. ‘You are of mixed race – Italian grandfather, French mother, and British father, I understand.’ The piercing blue eyes narrowed. ‘What made you volunteer instantly the war started?’

  ‘I wanted to fight for my country. I have good friends here; my work is here and I want to protect all we stand for in this country.’

  ‘Good show – but you were born in America?’

  ‘My father was in the diplomatic service and my mother travelled with him,’ Marco said. ‘I don’t talk about it generally as his work was confidential – but you know all there is to know about me and my family, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, done my homework, don’t yer know.’ The Major smiled. ‘You are fluent in several languages, including Italian, French, German and English – isn’t that so?’ He hesitated, then, ‘You were singled out for special duties some weeks ago I believe – did anyone tell you what they might be?’

  Marco frowned, then nodded. He’d been called into the captain’s office and asked how he felt about doing undercover work. When he’d agreed, he’d been told to return to the ranks and that he would be contacted in due course.

  ‘I understood I might be needed to do secret work, sir. I’m not sure what that means. So far, I’ve been given the same duties as other men in the ranks but told to be ready to move on.’

  ‘Yes, as I thought.’ The Major nodded. ‘You were chosen for your fluency in languages, as I said earlier, also your mixed birth – and I understood you were prepared for something rather more delicate than lying in a trench shooting a gun?’

  ‘I was told my German and French could be useful…’ Here it came! Marco’s spine tingled. ‘I also have a smattering of Polish and Russian…’

  ‘Ah…’ Major Richardson now smiled the smile of a contented crocodile who had caught and digested his lunch. ‘Just so – and exactly the man we need for the job. We’ve been told you’re a reasonable mimic and can sing a bit?’

  ‘Yes,’ Marco said and waited. He was fairly certain now that he knew what was required of him. ‘I play the piano and sing but not well.’

  ‘You could pass as a nightclub singer in France – or entertaining the German troops in a front-line camp…’

  The question was loaded and left Marco tingling from his nape to his toes.

  Marco looked at the Major thoughtfully. He’d known the approach would come soon and the invitation to this exclusive club had made him alert. This was why he’d been picked out and approached almost as soon as he’d joined the ranks. They had given him time to train and settle in as an ordinary private and now he was to be told his mission.

  ‘Yes, sir – if that is my role…’

  ‘You would be rubbing shoulders with the enemy at times – and your particular talents fit you for this assignment – but you need to be always on your guard and watchful.’

  Why didn’t he just come out and say it? Marco believed in calling a spade a spade. He looked the Major in the eye.

  ‘You want me to be a spy for the British in France, sir? As I understand it, you want me to penetrate the German ranks as a French cabaret artist who doesn’t care whether they are the enemy or not as long as I earn a few extra francs…’ A man of loose principles and few morals. It was the perfect cover for Marco and one he knew he could assume with ease.

  ‘Got it in one, private. I knew you were the man for me as soon as you were pointed out. You’ll be instantly promoted to Captain, naturally. I do not know what idiot put you in the ranks, but thank God someone had a quick eye and pointed you out to me. We’ve been watching you for a while, Marco, and we need men of your calibre. It’s dangerous, dirty work and I shan’t lie to you – if your cover is blown, the Germans will shoot you, but they may well torture you first for information you may have, so shooting would be a relief…’

  ‘Yes, sir, I imagine they might,’ Marco replied grimly. He felt the ice at his neck, but his expression did not falter.

  ‘And you cannot give that information no matter what they do to you – are you prepared to die for your countrymen?’

  ‘For my friends – and the memory of someone I loved,’ Marco said without hesitation. He might have nerves tying his stomach in knots but he wasn’t going to show it. Besides, what did he really have to lose? With Julien, his young lover’s death, his life had become empty and cold. ‘When do I leave, sir?’

  ‘We’ll give you a crash course and then get you in under the cover of darkness close to the border with Belgium. You will probably be taken most of the way by fishing vessel; the enemy don’t bother with them as much as the naval ships, but then the rest of the way you’ll go in by rowing boat or dinghy and you’ll be met at a prearranged rendezvous.’ He paused. ‘You are Marco Bellini – you may as well keep the name you prefer as it fits – and you have a position as a cabaret artist in the Fallen Angel. It is a nightclub of dubious reputation, close to the lines – and, even though it’s off limits, German officers have been known to visit; they drink there and enjoy the girls – and men; it’s that kind of club. You may be asked to perform at a place of the officers’ choosing. If you go behind enemy lines, we cannot protect you…’

  Marco looked at him in silence for a long moment and then inclined his head. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to, sir. I’m on my own out there and my duty is to protect what I know and pass on information I gather by mixing with German officers – the higher the rank, the better, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll give you a few names you can contact, some French, some English – you’ll need more than one in case your immediate contact is killed – and we need regular information, at least every few days, which may be risky for you and others.’ Major Richardson paused. ‘The village was overrun by Germans early in the conflict but they abandoned it on retreating. It’s a sort of no man’s land at the moment; quite close in one direction to the German lines and to a British field hospital in another direction, and some of your contacts are there, others in the village. That means several lives could be forfeit if you break under torture – so you can’t, understood?’

  Marco swallowed hard. ‘I understand, sir. I’ll listen and report to my contact.’

  ‘If you are tortured, the pain may be too much,’ Major Richardson went on grimly. ‘A remedy will be provided – cyanide crystals give a quick, relatively painless death. Some operatives choose to swallow them if they think they will betray others.’

  ‘I imagine so, sir.’ Marco faced him without a flicker and saw the appreciation in his eyes.

  ‘Good chap.’ Major Richardson smiled. ‘I realise we’re asking a lot – on average, a spy has a shorter life than a private at the Front. It’s nerve-wracking and you need to be a strong character. I believe you are strong enough to accept this – so I’ll wish you good luck.’ He took a sealed envelope from his pocket and pushed it towards him. ‘Your orders, Marco – and have a drink with me here after the war – yes?’

  ‘I certainly hope so, sir.’

  ‘Oh, you’d best sign this – Official Secrets Act.’

  ‘Yes, of course, sir.’ Marco did so with a flourish and then saluted.

  ‘Good luck, Marco. God speed.’

  Marco saluted and left, knowing he’d been dismissed. The mission had come right out of the blue and taken his breath away. A crash course in how to be a spy and then into France under the cover of darkness and a new life – a life that could end suddenly and brutally if he made a mistake. Yet if anyone was suited to the task, Marco knew quite clearly that he was the man. He could act the part of a decadent cabaret artist as naturally as he breathed. His talent at the piano was small, but he ofte
n entertained at theatrical parties – and that was how he’d been spotted of course. He wondered how long he’d been under surveillance. They knew all about him – his feelings for Julien, the young man he’d loved and lost to suicide; everything. Because they thought he had not much to live for, he seemed an ideal candidate – but Marco had realised that life was more precious than he’d imagined it could be without Julien. He had begun to recover enough to make new friends and to want to live.

  However, it would be a battle of wits and no one enjoyed that more than he. After all, he’d been playing a part most of his life. His private life had always needed to be kept secret, even more so when he joined the Army, and he’d found the charming smile and teasing manner got him through life smoothly. This was no different – just more dangerous, and that would add spice.

  A smile touched his lips as a thrill of excitement went through him. Pitting his wits against high-ranking officers in the German Army would be interesting, a deadly game of chess with huge stakes – if he won, he gained information for the British; if he lost, he could lose everything, including his life. He wondered what the odds were on his surviving and chuckled as he thought of discussing it with Ben Harper after it was all over. It would be something to look forward to if he survived. The war had suddenly become a game and one he believed he might be quite good at.

  7

  Maggie looked at Sadie nervously. Their steamer had avoided being hit by the enemy U-boats as they crossed the channel to Calais, despite some of the girls being seasick and wailing half the night as heavy waves pitched against the sides of their boat and they all prayed to arrive safely. Now they had disembarked and were being sorted into various groups for their journey onwards to the field hospitals that would be their home for at least the next six months. So far, their luck had held and the two of them were being sent to the same field hospital in the fiercely contested war zone just inside Belgium on the border with France.

  ‘At least we’ll be together,’ Sadie had whispered as they were given their orders by a grim-faced sergeant. ‘I reckon we shall need friends once we get out there.’

  ‘Yes,’ Maggie agreed and hugged her friend’s arm. Now that they were here in France, she was even more pleased that they had been posted together. It was all strange and bewildering, from the embarkation on board ship to being delivered like so many sheep at the other end, together with a load of noisy boisterous soldiers; some of them newly trained recruits heading for action for the first time.

  ‘They’re respectful to our faces at least,’ Sadie said when a group of the soldiers suddenly burst into loud laughter and then started to sing popular songs, ‘but I wouldn’t mind betting that some of that laughter is directed at us… The tall one with the ginger hair can’t keep his eyes off you, Maggie.’

  ‘I dare say they’ve had a drink or two on the quiet,’ Maggie replied thoughtfully. ‘After all, they are going to the Front and their lives are at risk. Some of them will never go home alive…’

  The two girls looked at each other soberly. Back home, it had all seemed an adventure. They’d been warned what it would be like, but it was for real now and more than a little frightening; every so often they could hear guns firing and the buzz of planes overhead. Some were Allied Forces and friendly, but others weren’t and they’d already witnessed one attack from the air, when little explosive devices had been dropped ahead on the road, causing one lorry to turn over.

  At the start of the war, the only nurses available or wanted by the British soldiers were the Queen Alexandra Imperial Nursing Services, a mere three hundred in number but beloved by the soldiers. The very first volunteers, many of them girls from wealthy families, had been asked to nurse French and Belgian wounded, but now the tide of wounded had driven out these fears and the new girls would be nursing their own men. Maggie was glad, though she still remembered some of the French she’d learned at school and would have been happy to nurse any wounded man that needed her help.

  For a moment, Maggie thought of the peace and comfort of Harpers. The store would be busy, filled with customers shopping for their families, hunting for bargains and new clothes. She felt a sharp pang of loss, because she’d loved being a part of all that – and this was a strange country and, so far, it felt cold and unfriendly, and like most of the other nurses and soldiers she was uneasy and wondering why any of them were here.

  ‘I reckon he’s tryin’ ter catch yer eye, Maggie.’ Sadie nudged her in the direction of a young soldier, who was staring at them.

  ‘Well, he is out of luck,’ Maggie said and smiled at her friend, her nerves settling. She was here because she cared and wanted to help.

  Meeting the eyes of a young soldier who looked about sixteen, though the age at which young men could join up was nineteen, she smiled at him reassuringly. Like many other young boys, he had probably lied about his age to get accepted and the need for men was so great that the recruiting officers sometimes took all comers if they could pass for the required age. He was clearly frightened of all the things that had unsettled her and somehow that made her feel calmer. He and others like him were why she and Sadie were here. In a few days, some of these men might be lying in a hospital bed and she would be helping to look after them.

  To Sadie, she said, ‘It doesn’t matter who looks. I’m spoken for, remember?’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone else,’ Sadie warned. Sadie had noticed Maggie’s ring hanging round her neck when they’d shared a cabin on the way over and she’d had to tell her that Tim had given her an engagement ring, swearing her to silence first. ‘If Sister found out you were engaged, she’d have you back on the next ship before you had time to draw breath…’

  ‘That is so silly,’ Maggie said and yet knew it was true. Sister had warned them close relationships were forbidden for the duration of their service.

  ‘We do not want to spend money training and kitting you out only to have you throwing up with morning sickness five minutes after you get there,’ she’d warned sternly. ‘Marriage, babies and nursing do not mix.’

  It made sense, of course it did. Much as she might wish she’d been Tim’s wife before their parting, Maggie was here to do a much-needed job and had she married, she might well have been expecting her first child.

  As the nurses and new recruits were shepherded into a convoy of vehicles – some Army trucks, some borrowed baker’s vans and even an old London bus – Maggie’s heart did a little flip. It was partly excitement and partly fear because she could hear guns booming in the distance and knew that they were headed towards them. They were going to a position no more than ten miles from the front line.

  Looking at Sadie, she smiled and whispered, ‘We’re here – it’s beginning.’

  ‘Yeah, exciting, isn’t it? I can’t wait to start.’

  Maggie looked at her and nodded, her nerves settling as she saw that Sadie was really looking forward to the work they’d trained so hard for. It was time for Maggie to put thoughts of Tim, Harpers and home away. For the next six months – if she managed that long – she was here to care for the wounded men and that was just what she planned to do. ‘I can’t wait either,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re here with me, Sadie.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Sadie said and squeezed her arm. ‘We can do this, Maggie love. We shan’t crumble and have to go home before our term is up.’

  ‘No, we shan’t.’ Maggie jutted her chin. ‘We’re here for as long as they need us.’ She lifted her head determinedly. Sadie was right. They were here to do a job and that was just what they would do, just as her friends back home were doing their jobs, keeping Harpers going so that their families and friends could carry on with their lives as best they could.

  Beth turned sleepily as her husband stirred beside her in their bed. She smiled because they’d spent the previous evening dancing and then Jack had made love to her, holding her and caressing her hungrily, as if he’d been starving in the desert.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much, my love,�
� Jack told her as he opened his eyes and reached up to bring her down to him, kissing her again softly, caressing her mouth with the tip of his tongue. ‘What are you thinking about?’

  ‘You, how much I love you – and Maggie, too, wondering how she is coping out there,’ Beth said. ‘It was sad you didn’t get to see Tim last time he was home for a few days.’ The brothers had just missed each other, which was one of the misfortunes of war.

  ‘It can’t be helped. We all have our work to do.’ Jack kissed her lips, stroking her cheek tenderly. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve got three weeks to be with you and that’s a little miracle.’

  ‘It’s only because your ship was hit and has to have a refit,’ Beth said and shivered in his arms. ‘I’m glad I didn’t know anything about it, Jack. I should’ve been worried to death.’

  ‘The Germans got lucky and just caught us in the tail,’ Jack said. ‘Our boys moved in on them and blew them out of the water and then nursed us home all the way across the Atlantic. It was a bit hairy at times, and frightening if I’m honest. The seas got a bit wild and we took on a lot of water, but Captain Marlowe was determined to get his ship home. So now we’ve got some shore leave while they patch her up again.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s lucky for me,’ Beth agreed and snuggled up to his warm body. ‘I just think we’re so fortunate that it wasn’t worse…’

  ‘If it had been, we shouldn’t be here to tell the tale,’ Jack said. ‘If they’d hit us broadside, the ship would’ve gone and a lot of us with it.’

  ‘Yes, I know…’ Her father-in-law, Fred, read the papers all the time and she always knew when he’d seen articles about merchant ships being sunk or damaged because he got that worried look in his eyes. Of course, he never told her, but she usually found the paper out in his shed and read the stories for herself. Beth hadn’t known about Jack’s ship being damaged and she was glad, because she would have been terrified.