Into the Iron Shadows, page 20
“Come and sit,” he said. “You’re shaking.”
“I’ll be all right,” she said, shaking her head. “Just give me a minute to collect myself.”
He gave her a dubious look but nodded, not removing his supporting arm. Evelyn took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. If they had found that oilskin-wrapped package...a shudder went through her.
“You must sit. Please,” Finn urged. “I’m afraid you’ll faint.”
“I don’t make a practice of fainting,” she said tartly, drawing a laugh from him. “Besides, we have to get back to Josephine. I just need a moment to collect myself, and then I’ll be perfectly all right.”
Finn stood silently beside her as she stared over the countryside. The clouds of dust that had first alerted them to the presence of the Germans were receding into the distance, heading west. Were they going to reinforce the armies that had already reached the Channel? Or would they turn south and go towards Paris? Either way, it was clear from the officer’s demeanor that he already considered France theirs.
“You speak German?” Evelyn finally asked after a few minutes of silence. Her heart rate had returned to normal and her limbs were no longer trembling. She turned to look at Finn. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
He shrugged. “Why would I? It makes no difference to speak German when you are in France.”
“It certainly made a difference just now.”
He shrugged again and avoided looking her in her eyes. “I didn’t see another way. If he brought other soldiers up here, we would have been restrained and searched. I did what I thought was best to prevent that.”
“I appreciate that.” She took a few experimental steps and nodded, glancing at him. “I’m all right now. Let’s be on our way.”
Finn nodded and followed her down the incline towards the road. “I think perhaps we should wait to go south,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps instead of leaving today, we should go in the morning. I don’t want to risk running into anymore divisions.”
“We could still run into them tomorrow. We don’t know how many more are coming.”
“Perhaps, but if there are more, I think they will be close behind them. I wish we had some way of knowing.”
Evelyn pursed her lips thoughtfully. “We might. We can see if Yves has a radio. If he does, Josephine might be able to find out where the closest enemy troops are.”
They reached the car and Finn hurried to open the door for her. She smiled and climbed in, reflecting that it seemed silly to observe such niceties when they had just narrowly escaped being captured by the Nazis. He closed the door and went around to climb into the driver’s side. A moment later, the engine roared to life and he put it in gear.
“Let’s hope I can get us out of this ditch,” he said, pressing the gas.
“The ground is hard from the lack of rain. You shouldn’t have a problem.”
Her words proved correct and the car surged back onto the road with only a small fishtail when the back tires hit loose stones. Evelyn exhaled and leaned her head back, staring out the windshield. Her body was a strange mix of taut wariness and exhausted emotion, making her feel very strange. She supposed it was a feeling she would get used to as the months of war dragged on, especially if she ended up working in close proximity with the enemy. She would have to learn how to handle the emotion.
Or become numb to it.
After a few minutes, Finn cleared his throat.
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention what just happened to Josephine,” he said. “The part about my speaking German, I mean. I’d rather no one knew.”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows and looked at him in surprise. “Why not?”
He glanced at her, his face inscrutable.
“I imagine for the same reasons that you don’t want me to know that you speak German.”
Chapter Eighteen
RAF Horsham
Miles sipped his lager and loosened his tie, sitting back comfortably. The pub was quiet tonight, and he and Rob had settled into a booth away from the few other locals. After another day in the air, patrolling over Belgium and France, he was thankful for an hour away from the others. His mood had become progressively more sour as the day had worn on, and when Rob suggested they nip down to the pub without the others, he’d jumped at the chance.
“So what has you so crabby this evening?” Rob asked cheerfully, settling across from him.
“I’m not, am I?”
“Certainly seemed so earlier. You almost took Slippy’s head off when we were walking back from dispersal.”
Miles shrugged. “Just tired, I suppose.”
Rob nodded and sipped his beer. “We’re all getting a bit on edge, aren’t we? Mother and Chris went at it this morning, or so I hear. I’m not especially tired, but I’m restless. Now that France is falling, I’m waiting for the war to come here. I feel like we’re back in a holding pattern again. First we were waiting for Hitler to move, now we’re waiting for him to come after England.”
“He will soon enough. He won’t stop with France, not when he’s seen how easy it was to take it.”
“It won’t be so easy to roll into England. He’ll have a tough time getting over the Channel for one thing. He can’t very well sneak through the Atlantic the way he did the Ardennes.” Rob leaned his elbows on the table and stared pensively down into his pint. “They’re saying it will come down to us. He’ll have to defeat the RAF before he can even attempt a Channel crossing.”
“Yes.”
Rob glanced up at him, the customary twinkle gone from his eyes. “Miles, tell me something. Do you think we can defeat the Luftwaffe?”
“We’ll have to,” he said grimly. “If we don’t, we’ll have the Nazis goose-stepping up Piccadilly.”
“Yes, but do you think we can do it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. We have to. That’s all there is to it.”
Rob grunted and both men were silent. Miles swallowed a mouthful of lager and watched as Rob turned his pint slowly in circles on the scarred wood surface of the table. The very fact that they were having this conversation was indicative of their respective states of mind. A few weeks ago, it would never have occurred to either of them to wonder if they’d be able to stop Hitler’s war machine. Now, seeing how quickly France was crumbling, Miles realized just how outmatched they really were. The amount of airplanes and pilots they’d already lost in France was telling enough. As far as he could see, while the Germans had also lost planes, they had them to lose. The RAF did not.
“Funny how things change, isn’t it?” Rob asked suddenly. “Last month we couldn’t wait for the Phony War to end. Now we’re facing an end that we didn’t imagine.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, did you?”
“I never thought this would be easy once Hitler made up his mind to move, no. This is a different war from the last one. We’ve known this would be an air war all along.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think they would take France so quickly,” Rob muttered. “It’s only been eleven days since they attacked Holland and Belgium. Eleven days! Do you realize that?”
“Yes.”
“What army only takes eleven days to go through three countries?”
“One that is much better organized, and commanded by younger, brighter leaders who know exactly how to out-think a sixty-eight-year-old general,” Miles answered wryly. “Gamelin had no concept of what was coming, and now Weygand is not much better.”
Rob was silent for a minute, then he shook his head. “To be fair, apparently neither did we.”
Miles grunted and lifted his lager. He wasn’t wrong; their leaders had underestimated Adolf Hitler at every turn, right up until his armies tore through the Ardennes.
“Have you had a letter from m’sister, by any chance?” Rob asked after another moment of pensive silence.
“Not recently.”
“I’ve been trying to track her down, and I’m having the devil of a time. I finally got onto someone over at her HQ and they were going to get back to me, but I haven’t heard anything yet.” He frowned, sipping his beer. “If the RAF can’t keep better track of their WAAFs than this, we’re in for a bad time of it. They’re women, for God’s sake! How do you lose ‘em?”
“I’m sure they haven’t lost her. She was in Dover when she wrote last.”
“So I understand, but no one seems to know where. Someone should at least know where she is!”
“Someone, somewhere, does. She moves around quite a bit. I’m sure they’ll track down the person who knows where she is at the present moment. As you said, it’s the RAF. They haven’t lost her.” Miles tilted his head and looked at his friend. “What’s the matter? Everything all right?”
“What? Oh yes, everything’s fine. I just want to talk to her about our French relations.”
“Have you heard anything from them since this all started? How are they?”
“They’re at the house in Monblanc now. They left Paris as soon as Sedan fell.” He rubbed his face and sat back in his chair. “My mother says they’re packing up what they can, and then they’re coming here to England.”
“All of them?”
“I don’t know. She said there was some uncertainty about my cousins. Something about Nicolas not wanting to leave, and Gisele refusing to go without him.” He shook his head tiredly. “My mother can be vague at times. I was hoping Evelyn knew more. I know she writes to Gisele regularly. It doesn’t make much sense for them to stay in France while my aunt and uncle come here, especially if the Germans occupy it, and let’s face it, they will.”
“Will they stay at Ainsworth Manor?”
“Not a clue. I suppose they will at first, but we have a rather nice-sized hunting lodge in Northumberland that’s standing empty at the moment. They might prefer to go there. Or there’s the old gatekeepers house, of course.” Rob grinned suddenly. “I’m not sure that my Auntie Agatha and Tante Adele would get along very well if this war goes on for any significant amount of time.”
“Different personalities?”
“Night and day. And my Uncle Claude won’t stand for his wife being upset.”
“I really can’t wait to meet the infamous Auntie Agatha,” Miles said with a grin. “I’ve heard such good things.”
Rob let out a bark of laughter. “You won’t have any issues with her. We don’t. Evelyn loves her to bits. She’s simply her own woman, Auntie Agatha, and she’s not afraid to say things as they are. She’s rather a sergeant-major, but a lovable old girl. And she dotes on Evie. Always has.”
A soft smile crossed Miles’ face. “Then I should think we’ll get along without a hitch.”
Rob made a face. “It’s disgusting how true that is. As soon as Auntie Agatha sees how head over heels you are for Evie, she’ll take you in. There’ll be no escaping then. You’ll be stuck with all of us.”
“Always assuming that Evelyn is agreeable, of course,” Miles replied, lifting his pint and swallowing the last bit of lager.
“Well, from the very beginning I’ve warned you that she’s a fickle thing,” Rob pointed out. “Both London and Paris are littered with broken hearts from my sister. But, I can tell you this: I’ve never seen her this way before. I think you have a better chance than any of the poor sods who came before you. Just be sure that’s really what you want before you meet Auntie Agatha.”
“I don’t think that I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life,” Miles said thoughtfully, setting his empty glass down.
Rob looked at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
Rob stared at him searchingly for a moment, then grinned. He swallowed the last of his beer and reached for Miles’ empty glass.
“In that case, I’ll buy the next round.”
“You’ll give your blessing then?”
“Of course!” He stood up with a laugh. “But it’s not up to me, old boy. Evie’s always followed her own path, y’know. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I think I have some idea,” Miles said with a grin.
“Then we’ll have another round, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“How can I? That’s all you’ve done since I met her.”
“Nothing personal, you understand. It’s just that it gets a little much always listening to the sorry blighters crying on my shoulder when she inevitably sends them packing.”
Miles watched him turn and go to the bar with their glasses and couldn’t stop the streak of uncertainty that went through him. He knew that when Evelyn was with him, she felt the same way he did. But what if that changed? They saw each other so rarely, and it would get even worse in the coming months. Now that he was so far from Northolt, their stolen evenings would become few and far between. And then there was that other pilot, Flying Officer Durton. They were very chummy, the two of them.
He shook his head and pulled out his cigarettes. He was letting Rob get into his head. The last time he saw her, Evelyn had shown every indication of being just as committed to this relationship as he was. He would simply have to trust his instincts. They’d never let him down before. But he’d also never met any woman quite like Evelyn before.
And that, of course, was the problem.
Evelyn stared at Finn for a beat, then started laughing.
“Whatever makes you think I speak German?” she demanded, her heart racing again.
“I don’t think. I know.”
Finn glanced at her and, in that one glance, Evelyn knew that there was no point in keeping up the charade. He obviously knew. The laugh faded from her face and she looked out the window at the passing countryside.
“How do you know?” she finally asked, pleased when her voice was perfectly steady. It belied the trembling in her fingers.
“You haven’t asked what was said, for one thing,” Finn pointed out. “Anyone else would have been demanding to know what was being said, if not at the time, certainly directly afterwards.”
Evelyn couldn’t stop a grimace. Of course! He was absolutely right. She should have asked. That was a stupid mistake on her part.
“That’s true,” she admitted. “I was very shaken by the whole encounter, but nevertheless, I should have played the part better.”
“You also almost laughed when he suggested that an ambush might be waiting for them,” Finn added with a faint smile. “He may not have noticed, but I certainly did.”
Evelyn looked at him thoughtfully. “You seem to notice quite a bit, Monsieur...what is your surname?”
His lips tightened briefly and, for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he spoke. “Maes. My name is Finn Maes.”
“Monsieur Maes, it’s a pleasure to be properly introduced.”
“Please continue to call me Finn. It’s silly to stand on ceremony now.”
“You mean after we’ve shared a run-in with a Wehermacht major? No, I suppose not.”
He looked at her, impressed. “You recognized his rank?”
“Yes.” She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “Now that we’re being honest with each other, where did you learn to speak German? And why don’t you want anyone to know?”
“I don’t see that it’s relevant for you to know how or why.”
“It is if you want me to keep your secret,” Evelyn retorted, her eyes narrowing faintly. “There’s no shame in knowing another language. If you want to hide it, that’s your affair. But I’d like to know why. If I’m to be responsible for getting you to England, I think I have a right.”
Finn was silent, his jaw tight, then he glanced at her and exhaled.
“You’re right. If we’re to make it to England, we need to trust each other,” he agreed reluctantly. “Forgive me. I’ve been alone so long that I have trouble remembering that sometimes we must have faith in each other.”
Evelyn inclined her head. “I understand.”
He nodded and seemed to be searching for the words to begin. Finally, after another searching glance, he spoke.
“I’m not Belgian,” he told her. “I know you think I am, and I allowed Josephine to believe it as well.”
“You’re German?” Evelyn asked in surprise, her eyebrows soaring into her forehead.
He shook his head. “No. I’m Czech.”
She stared at him, her mind whirling with questions. “Czechoslovakian?”
“Yes.” He looked over and his lips twisted in amusement at the look on her face. “Have you never met a Czech before?”
Evelyn swallowed and shook her head. “It’s not that,” she said hastily. “It’s just not what I was expecting. But now that you mention it, I don’t actually believe that I have. Where are you from?”
“Originally? I am from a small mining village called Lidice.” Finn cleared his throat again, patently uncomfortable speaking about himself. “I was in Prague in March last year when the Germans came. I was excited about the prospect of a new start for my country.”
“A new start?”
“Yes. That’s how I saw the invasion of the Germans. It’s how many of us saw it.” His lips tightened briefly, then he laughed sardonically. “We believed that Hitler was a leader who would bring prosperity and stability to our country.”
“You believed what he told you.”
“Yes. It seems like a lifetime ago. I was proud to join the National Socialist Party, and I went to work for the Germans quite happily.”
“What did you do?” Evelyn asked when he showed no inclination to continue.
“I helped process identification papers at first, then I was transferred to another building, where I worked as a clerk.” His voice was very tight and Evelyn frowned. “My work there entailed my crossing the border into Germany regularly to carry messages, retrieve packages, and accompany officials when they returned to the Fatherland for meetings and conventions. That was how I came to spend time in Munich.”
“They sent you all the way to Munich?”
“Only once. I was there for a week while my superior attended a convention.” He shrugged. “Most of the time I was back and forth to Leipzig and Dresden.”
