An Island at War

by Deborah Carr

  ‘No problem.’ Janine smiled at her. ‘Rosie and I will be in Weymouth in a few hours and I promise I won’t leave her until I know she’s safe with your auntie.’

  It was more than Estelle had hoped for and she was hugely grateful to her friend. ‘I really appreciate your help, it’s very kind of you.’

  A whistle sounded, silencing most of the voices on the pier. ‘Five minutes until boarding closes.’ A chorus of gasps and panicked voices filled the air. ‘We need to leave in fifteen minutes if we’re to catch the tide.’

  ‘That’s it,’ the woman next to Estelle said, pushing passed her. ‘I’m not going.’

  Estelle felt Rosie’s hand tense in hers. ‘Come along,’ she said, picking up her sister’s small case and pushing her way through the throngs of people waiting by the ship to the gangway. Janine followed closely behind, bringing up the rear so Rosie had no choice but to keep moving forward.

  Rosie continued to badger her with reasons why she should go with her back to the farm, but Estelle did her best to take little notice. Eventually they reached the front of the queue.

  ‘Tickets,’ demanded a flustered officer, putting his arm out in front of Estelle to stop her stepping on to the gangplank.

  She had been hoping to sneak onboard with her sister and find the best place for Rosie to wave goodbye, but that looked as if it wasn’t going to happen now. She took Rosie’s ticket from her pocket and held it in front of his face.

  ‘There’s only one.’ He gave her a knowing look and Estelle assumed she wasn’t the first person today to have tried this tactic. She had been dreading this bit. ‘It’s for my younger sister. I’m dropping her off. I just want to make sure she’s settled on the boat. Then I promise I’ll get straight off again.’

  ‘No, you won’t love.’

  She tried not to panic. ‘But you don’t understand—’

  He shook his head, wearily. ‘No love, it’s you that doesn’t understand. If I let you on, then I’d have to let half that lot on, too.’ He nodded in the direction of the crowd behind Estelle and she glanced over her shoulder. Her heart plummeted. She would have to say her goodbyes to Rosie here, and quickly.

  ‘Fine. Here’s her ticket, then,’ she said, handing it over, and turning to Rosie. ‘I’m going to have to leave you here, I’m afraid.’

  Rosie’s face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘What? No, you can’t.’

  ‘Be good for Janine and give my love to Aunt Muriel,’ Estelle said, her voice cracking with emotion. She crouched down and pulled Rosie into a tight hug breathing in the familiar scent of the shampoo she had used to wash her hair.

  ‘Please don’t leave me, Essie. Please.’ Estelle braced herself for what she was about to do and then gently pushing her away, handed Rosie her case. ‘Go with Janine. It’ll be fine, I promise you.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’ She burst into tears.

  It was true, Estelle thought, she had no idea whether or not Rosie’s voyage to Weymouth would be fine. She felt sick to think of recent reports about boats travelling from the Channel Islands to the mainland needing to zigzag to avoid being hit by German fighter planes. The thought that her sister might not even make it to the other side of the Channel terrified her, especially as she was the one now forcing her to go.

  ‘Don’t make me go, pleeease,’ Rosie sobbed.

  Estelle only just managed to hold back her own tears. Her heart felt like someone was tearing it out of her chest. She gave Janine a pleading look, relieved when her friend quickly handed her ticket to the officer and put her arm comfortingly around Rosie’s shoulders.

  Rosie shrugged her off. ‘Don’t touch me. You’re not my sister.’

  Aware that she had no time left to delay, Estelle stepped away from them. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tears catching in her throat. ‘I have no choice.’

  ‘Come along,’ Janine said. ‘There’s a good girl. Let’s go and find somewhere to wave to Estelle.’ Rosie went to argue, but Janine simply pulled her away from Estelle and on to gangplank. Seconds later, they were stepping on to the boat, with Rosie staring tearfully over her shoulder at Estelle.

  Estelle gave her sister a wave and forced a smile.

  ‘Off you go now, Miss,’ the officer said. ‘You’re holding everyone up.’

  She mouthed a thank-you to Janine and turning, hurried away, trying her best not to be swayed by Rosie’s shouts pleading for her to take her home.

  She needed to find somewhere to wave to her sister. It took a few minutes to wend her way through the throng of people and up the granite steps at the side of the promenade. Estelle scanned the passengers on the deck frantically hoping to find Rosie, relieved to see her sister and friend standing by the railings searching the crowd for her.

  ‘Over here, Rosie!’ she shouted. When they didn’t hear her, Estelle pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and waved it in the air. She groaned with relief when Janine spotted her and pointed in her direction for Rosie.

  A short while later, Estelle saw the dockers moving the gangway away from the boat and then lifting the ropes off the large iron bollard. As the ferry slowly began to move away from the harbour wall, Estelle’s chest ached.

  ‘I’ll see you soon, Rosie. Give Aunt Muriel my love.’ She doubted her sister could actually hear her over all the other shouts between friends and families, but she had at least to try to say some final words to her.

  Rosie brushed away tears with her fingers and then waved her arms over her head, giving Estelle a half-smile. Estelle could see her sister was trying her best to be brave and it broke her heart even more that she wouldn’t be there for her. She hoped desperately that Rosie would be safe in London and would find a way to cope without her.

  ‘Bye, Rosie!’ she shouted carrying on waving until she was certain her sister couldn’t see her any more. Estelle stood in a numbed silence watching the boat slowly cross St Aubin’s Bay.

  Everything had been so chaotic over the past few days that she hadn’t had a second to think about what it truly meant for them all. Now that Rosie was being taken further and further away from her, Estelle wasn’t sure how she was going to face the uncertainty of what the future held for those left behind. So many families being parted and her chance of attending art college in London vanishing. She was sure about one thing though, as the ferry moved further towards the headland at Noirmont, she would never forgive the Germans for splitting her family up like this. Never.

  Two

  Estelle

  28 June 1940

  Estelle sat and forced herself to eat the beef stew Gran had made for their supper. She usually loved her grandmother’s stews but this evening it tasted like cardboard. She chewed another mouthful, hoping that if she did it enough she might be able to swallow it a little easier.

  She faced her grandmother across the pine kitchen table and wondered if she was finding it as difficult being in the farmhouse without Rosie’s noisy chatter. Gran stared out of the window as she ate silently. She had been quieter this past week since Rosie had been evacuated and Estelle could see she was trying to put on a brave face. ‘Grace and dignity are the most important things you have to remember, Estelle,’ she was fond of saying. ‘Remember, one day, you will look back on this and will be glad that you acted in a dignified way.’

  Estelle swallowed another mouthful of her supper and, unable to keep her thoughts to herself any longer, asked, ‘Don’t you find it too quiet with Rosie gone, Gran?’

  ‘I do,’ her grandmother replied. ‘It’s not the same without her chirping about the place, asking questions. I even miss her messy room, which I was constantly telling her to tidy up. You must be missing your sister very much.’

  It felt good to admit her feelings. ‘I still can’t shake off how upset she was the last time I saw her. I feel so guilty making her go when she didn’t want to.’

  ‘Nonsense. You were only doing your father’s bidding.’

  Estelle wasn’t sure her father had been
right to force Rosie to leave. ‘Do you think it was best for her to go?’

  Her grandmother shrugged. ‘We won’t know that until after this is all over. Who knows what’s going to happen to us here, or to her and Muriel in London? We just have to trust that we will all survive what’s coming.’

  Estelle shivered, despite it being a warm evening. The only good thing to have happened recently was her sweetheart, Gerard, being allowed to return to the island: with the ever-increasing threat of war reaching the Channel Islands, all the young lads who had signed up had been given some leave to see their families. He hadn’t finished his basic training yet. In fact, he had barely had time to start. She felt a little comforted knowing Gerard was here, even if only for a few days, especially having heard – and then seen – German planes flying overhead earlier in the day. They had been flying low over the island and someone had said it was reconnaissance. Estelle hadn’t taken too much notice and presumed they were just making their presence felt before flying on to France. The coast was close enough for her to be able to see from her bedroom window, so that was an obvious possibility.

  Recently, the German Army had marched across the Continent, taking everything in its path, or so it seemed. Were they next? Estelle wondered, her stomach clenching in fear. Like everyone else on the island, she had heard terrifying stories about the atrocities and suffering inflicted on people by the Nazis. She prayed that the rumours of them invading the islands were just that.

  The mantle clock chimed eight and Estelle wondered where her father was. Having delayed their supper for him, his absence was another reason she was finding it hard to enjoy her food. On days like these, when he took his spuds down to the docks, he always ended up in lengthy queues, but he was usually back by now and she wondered what was keeping him so long.

  Estelle’s thoughts were distracted by the sound of a truck coming up the drive. ‘That sounds like Gerard,’ she said, recognising the noisy engine. It would be a relief to see his smiling face.

  ‘What’s he doing here at this time?’ Gran grumbled. ‘Go and let him in but he’s going to have to wait until we’ve finished eating before you two can wander off outside. And no getting up to any funny business, mind you.’

  Estelle placed her cutlery down on her plate and rushed to the back door to welcome him— her smile vanishing immediately when she saw his ashen face.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ She asked, stepping forward and placing her hands either side of his face. ‘Has something happened?’

  He leant forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek, before taking her by the hand. ‘Is your grandmother around?’

  ‘We’re still eating,’ Gran called. ‘Come in, Gerard, take a seat. We won’t be long now.’

  Estelle led him into the kitchen, her heart racing, concerned to feel how clammy his strong hand was in her own. Something was wrong, but what?

  ‘We would have finished by now,’ Gran continued, ‘but we were late starting, waiting for Estelle’s father to come home. He must have been delayed down at the docks again.’

  Estelle indicated for Gerard to take a seat opposite her grandmother before sitting back down at her own place. When he didn’t make a move to sit, she felt a sense of dread well up inside her.

  ‘Gerard? Why are you here?’ she asked, instinctively fearful about hearing his answer. She’d never seen him so quiet or humourless and they’d known each other since primary school. She could see he was struggling to speak. ‘Gerard?’

  ‘Is it your dad?’ Estelle asked, moving in her chair to stand back up to comfort him.

  He put out his hand, motioning for her to remain seated. ‘No, please, don’t get up. Something has happened,’ he replied, his voice shaky. ‘Something dreadful.’

  ‘Has your father had an accident on his farm?’ Why couldn’t Gerard just tell them?

  He shook his head and cleared his throat.

  ‘Why don’t you just tell us, son?’ the older woman now said, placing her knife and fork neatly on her plate and wiping her mouth on her linen napkin. ‘Take a deep breath and spit it out.’

  Acknowledging Estelle’s grandmother for a brief moment, before returning his full attention once again to his sweetheart, Gerard did as the older woman had directed. ‘I’m so sorry, Estelle, but it’s not my father I’ve come to tell you about… it’s yours.’

  Estelle couldn’t understand what he meant. How could her father have had an accident on the farm when he wasn’t even working here today? ‘No, he’s not here. I told you, he went down to the docks several hours ago.’

  Gran’s hand stilled as she reached for her glass. ‘Tell us, son.’

  ‘German bombers flew over the docks earlier.’

  ‘I heard them. They flew over here, too, at about six-ish.’ Estelle said, confused.

  Gerard walked over to her and took her hands in his. ‘They bombed the docks, Estelle.’

  ‘Bombed? Here?’ She felt breathless.

  ‘What exactly happened, Gerard,’ her grandmother snapped.

  ‘Sorry. I… It’s just… well, they dropped several bombs, then flew across the island and then went back and shot at the farmers and dockers who were down at the harbour.’

  Estelle leapt to her feet. ‘Dad’s been shot? Why didn’t you say so sooner?’ She snatched her hands out of his grasp and ran to the door, grabbing her coat from the hook. ‘Quickly, you have to take me to see him. Is he in the hospital?’ She wondered why he wasn’t moving. ‘Gerard. Come along. We have to go. Now!’ She noticed him gaze from her to her gran, a strange questioning look on his face. Estelle watched her grandmother get to her feet, as if in slow motion, and move towards her.

  ‘No!’ Estelle shouted. ‘No. Don’t say it.’ She pleaded for her grandmother to stop walking. If Gran didn’t say what she now guessed she was about to say then it wouldn’t be true.

  ‘I think, dear girl…’ her grandmother said placing one hand against Estelle’s right cheek, ‘that your father didn’t make it.’

  Estelle stared at her and then looked back towards Gerard, willing him to contradict her. ‘Tell Gran she’s wrong, Gerard. Tell her, please.’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more in the world right now than to do as you ask. I’m so sorry, Estelle. Your father is dead.’

  Estelle’s breathing seemed to echo in her ears. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, its tick-tock sound suddenly echoing loudly around the room. ‘Do… do you know if he suffered at all?’ She prayed Gerard would say what she needed to hear.

  Gently, Gerard took Estelle’s coat from her before leading her back to the table. ‘No, I was assured that he didn’t suffer. That’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?’

  Estelle nodded slowly. ‘Can I go and see him?’

  Gerard shook his head. ‘No. I’m sorry.’

  ‘But are they sure it’s Dad?’

  Gerard nodded. ‘Everyone knows your dad down at the docks. It was definitely him.’ He bent down and hugged her. ‘Three other men on the pier also lost their lives. Two others in Mulcaster Street.’ He hugged her more tightly. ‘He will have known nothing, Estelle. Try to take some comfort from that.’

  She heard Gran’s trembling voice. ‘I’ll make us all a strong cup of sweet tea.’

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Gerard murmured. ‘Your dad was like an uncle to me.’

  ‘I know,’ Estelle whispered.

  ‘I wish I wasn’t leaving you so soon. Especially now that this has happened.’

  Tomorrow, he would be leaving the island to return to England to continue with his training.

  Estelle replayed Gerard’s words in her head. Her father was dead. She would never see him again…

  ‘Rosie? We have to find a way to tell her what’s happened,’ she cried, suddenly.

  Her grandmother filled the kettle and went to place it on to the range, almost dropping it when her shaking hand accidentally hit the edge.

  Estelle could see she was st
ruggling. ‘Oh, Gran,’ she said, sobbing as she ran over to her and into her arms. ‘Whatever will we do?’

  The older woman held her granddaughter tightly for a moment, before her arms dropped away and she stepped back. ‘We have to be strong, Estelle. We have no other choice. I’ll write a letter to Muriel tonight,’ she said, having regained her composure. ‘I’ll ask her to break the news to Rosie. She’ll be as gentle as she can.’

  They had been seated for almost an hour at the dinner table, frozen in shock and grief, when Gran finally suggested that they all move into the living room. ‘The seats are more comfortable in there.’ She rested a hand on her granddaughter’s stooped shoulder and when Estelle and Gerard agreed, she said, ‘You two go and get settled and I’ll make us all a fresh pot of tea.’

  Estelle knew instinctively that Gran was wanting some time to herself, to control her feelings, and she didn’t blame her. Quietly, she followed Gerard through the hall to the living room and switched on the light. It was cold and already seemed to feel different without her father’s presence in it.

  ‘I’ll light the fire,’ Gerard suggested. ‘You sit down.’ When she didn’t speak, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. ‘It will be all right, I promise you,’ he said quietly, his warm breath next to her ear. ‘I’ll do all I can to help you. You’re not alone, Estelle. Remember that.’

  ‘But you’re going away, too? It’s going to be just me and Gran left here and I don’t think I can bear it.’

  She felt him flinch. ‘I wish I hadn’t signed up now,’ he said, kissing her forehead. ‘I’d do anything to be able to look after you.’

  ‘What if something happens to you? How would I bear it?’ His face fell and she realised how selfish she was being. ‘No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You have no choice now but to return to your unit and at least you can fight and make a difference.’

  He stared at her silently for a few seconds. ‘I will certainly do my best.

  Estelle sat down on the sofa, always liking to be nearest the window for the best light. She watched him taking the kindling wood, lay and then light the fire.