An Island at War

by Deborah Carr

  Soon the flames crackled and Gerard added a few more small pieces of wood and coal until it caught. Gradually, the warmth from the fire seeped out into the small living room but Estelle still felt cold.

  Gerard sat back on his heels and looked over his shoulder at her. ‘Do you mind very much if I turn on the radio?’ he asked. ‘It’s nine o’clock and I’ve taken to listening to the news each evening ever since this war began.’

  ‘You do as you wish, lad,’ Gran said, entering the room, holding a tray with three cups and saucers on it. She gave them one each, kissed Estelle on the top of her head, and sat down in her chair closest to the fire. Gerard sat next to Estelle on the sofa and Estelle wondered if it was because he wanted to sit next to her, or if he didn’t like to use her father’s chair on the other side of the fireplace opposite her grandmother’s seat. She was glad he hadn’t chosen to sit there.

  The BBC announcer’s clipped voice filled the room: ‘The Channel Islands has been demilitarised and declared an open town.’

  Estelle wasn’t sure what he was saying but by the look on Gerard’s face it wasn’t good.

  ‘What does he mean by demilitarised?’ she asked.

  ‘It means that the British Government has abandoned any intention of defending the islands.’

  ‘So the rumours of invasion are turning out to be true,’ her grandmother muttered.

  Through the fog of her grief for her father, still so fresh, so inexplicable, Estelle felt tears slide down her cheeks. She’d lost Rosie. Her dad. And now… ‘Basically, what they’re saying, then, is that we’re on our own.’

  Gerard rubbed his face with his free hand. ‘Yes, that’s pretty much it.’ He sighed heavily. ‘It’s an open invitation to invade.’

  Three

  Estelle

  Jersey, 30 June 1940

  Estelle scattered feed for the hens in the yard, while her father’s Alsatian, Rebel, lay dozing in the sunshine. More planes had been flying low over the island that morning, but Estelle realised that, regardless of her grief and the uncertainty of what was to come next, the chickens and their three pigs still needed to be fed.

  It was another warm, sunny day. Any other year, she would be preparing to spend the afternoon down on the beach with one of her friends, Rosie usually in tow. Today, though, she had chores to do. Responsibilities. Her grandmother depended on her. ‘How are you doing?’ a deep voice asked from behind her.

  For a moment, she thought she had imagined Gerard’s voice, but when Rebel raised his head and began wagging his tail, she realised he must be behind her. She spun on the heels of her work boots, accidentally dropping the rest of the feed in the process.

  ‘I thought you’d have left by now.’

  ‘I’ve managed to get a place on the boat tomorrow, so I could spend a little more time here.’ He walked up to her and pulled her into his arms. ‘I wouldn’t leave without coming to say goodbye to you first.’

  It was good to see his familiar sweet face. ‘I’m glad you came. I thought you’d have too much to do before you left.’

  He kissed her lightly on the mouth. ‘I was, which is why I’m here later than I’d hoped.’

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in his musky scent and clung to him tightly. After tomorrow, when would she see him again? She felt weary with the heartbreak of losing her father. ‘My dad—’

  ‘I know,’ he soothed, stroking her hair with one hand. ‘How’s Rebel coping without him? He’s always been very much your dad’s dog, hasn’t he?’

  Estelle bent to stroke Rebel’s silky head. ‘He’s been quieter since Dad didn’t come home but doesn’t seem too bad, thankfully. I think he’s a little confused, but he’s going to be all right. I’ll make sure he is.’

  ‘I know you will. He’s a good dog.’ He bent to ruffle the dog’s fur. ‘Aren’t you, boy?’

  ‘Gerard Pipon, haven’t you left already? Or are you trying to miss that boat to the mainland?’ Gerard stepped back from Estelle at the sound of Gran’s voice.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Woods,’ he said. ‘I leave tomorrow. How are you bearing up?’

  She wagged her finger. ‘We’ll find a way to deal with everything, don’t you fret about us. I know how much you respected my son-in-law, too. So, no words are needed on that score. We’re just grateful it was you who came to break our sad news to us. Weren’t we, Estelle?’

  Estelle couldn’t speak, so nodded.

  ‘Will you be staying for something to eat?’ Gran pressed her lips together, her usual determined expression on her face. ‘Although I suspect your mother will be wanting you back at home with her… and I can’t say I blame her, if you’ve only a short time left here.’

  He shot a glance at Estelle. She could tell he would rather spend more time alone with her, but she was grateful for him coming to see her at all. She gave him a smile to reassure him that she understood.

  ‘I need to go straight home,’ he explained, apologetically; then hesitated, before adding, ‘Would you like me to try and find someone to help you out here, now that, well, now that, um…’ His voice trailed off and Estelle was relieved he hadn’t said the words out loud.

  ‘That would be kind of you,’ Gran answered for both of them. ‘Thank you. Estelle’s a strong girl and used to help with the harvesting. We only have one more field of spuds to dig and then it’ll be a little easier to manage things on the farm for a time. Estelle and I can probably cope for a couple of weeks if we can persuade some of the villagers to come and help us. But it’s difficult to find someone permanent who’s young and fit and who wants work labouring, now that so many of you stronger young men have joined up.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  Her grandmother studied them both. ‘Right, I’d better get back to the house. I’ve got a pie baking and don’t want it to burn. Very best of luck to you, Gerard. Keep safe above all else, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Mrs Woods. And you, too.’

  They watched her cross the yard to return to the house. Then as soon as she had closed the back door behind her Gerard pulled Estelle back into his arms. ‘I probably won’t have time to come back and see again you before I go.’ There was an urgency in his voice and he put a hand behind her head, lowering his mouth on to hers, kissing her with a passion she hadn’t experienced before. It was as if he never expected to see her again. She hoped he was wrong. ‘Please promise me,’ he said, ‘that you’ll keep yourself safe. For me. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.’

  ‘I will, but you’re the one who’ll be fighting. In harm’s way. Not me.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Estelle,’ he said quietly. ‘And you’ll write to me?’

  ‘You know I will.’ She kissed him again not wanting to guess what dangers they both would have to face in the coming months.

  The nearby church struck nine times.

  ‘I really must go,’ he said, kissing her once more. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’

  ‘Come back to me,’ she replied, her heart heavy at the thought that this was probably her last moment with him for a very long time.

  Gerard hurried away, giving her one last wave as he started the truck, reversed to turn it and drove away.

  Estelle watched until the dust on the drive settled. ‘Stay safe,’ she whispered. Her throat caught with tears. Another goodbye. How many more were to come?

  The following morning, Estelle was cleaning her teeth when she heard the unmistakeable sound of a rumbling plane engine flying over the farm. She rinsed her mouth out with water and spat into the sink, quickly cleaning it. Pushing her feet into her boots, she didn’t stop to tie them but ran downstairs to see what was coming, her heart pounding.

  She raised her right hand to shield her eyes from the sun and looked up to see hundreds of pieces of paper floating down from the sky and above them several planes that she knew had to be the Germans. She ran forward, missing one of the leaflets but caught the next and read it. Her heart plummeted. It w
as an order to surrender.

  She ran back into the house almost knocking into her grandmother as she was entering the kitchen from the hallway.

  ‘Do be more careful, Estelle,’ Gran scolded, steadying herself by grabbing the door frame. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’

  Estelle passed the leaflet to her grandmother. ‘Read this. Hundreds of them have just fallen from a plane; I watched it going over.’

  ‘Well, that’s it then. It looks like the invasion has started. Quick we need to prepare.’

  Estelle thought of Gerard and how he was supposed to be leaving the island today. ‘Do you think Gerard will have time to leave, first?’

  ‘I don’t know why you keep asking me these questions, Estelle. I know as much as you do. For his mother’s sake, I hope he stays here. For his, I hope he managed to leave already.’

  Estelle’s chest tightened and she began to panic. ‘You mean we’ll be isolated here? How long for, do you think?’

  Gran scrunched up the leaflet in her hand and placed her hands on her hips. ‘I don’t have the answers. None of us do. We’ll have to take it as it comes and just do the best we can with what we have.’

  Later that morning, Gerard arrived at the farm on his bike, his tanned face was shiny from perspiration and he was panting. Estelle was delighted to see him so unexpectedly. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked running towards him.

  He almost dropped the bicycle he was riding in his rush to reach her. His face was ashen and she could see he was distressed. ‘I didn’t manage to find someone to help you here,’ he said, taking her hands in his.

  ‘It’s fine, we’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Have you seen the leaflets?’ She nodded. ‘I had to come here and see you one last time. I don’t know when I’ll next be able to.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be trying to leave the island rather than coming here?’

  Speaking fast, he replied, ‘I’m on my way now. I’m going to do my best to persuade someone to lend me a boat.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘The passenger boats have been cancelled, but I must get away before the Germans land. I asked my uncle, but he told me I was mad and refused.’ Estelle wished he would calm down a little and not speak so fast. ‘A couple of the chaps I came back here with are going to come with me. We’re going to try to reach England. We can’t take the chance of staying here and being stuck, probably for years.’

  ‘Years? Don’t say that.’ The thought of her beautiful island being turned into a prison horrified her. More than anything, Estelle wanted to plead with him to stay in Jersey, to stay with her, but she thought of her grandmother’s words and knew the best thing for him would be to find a way to return to the mainland and join his fleet in the Royal Navy.

  She leant forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. ‘Go, then. Don’t waste time speaking to me. Find that boat.’

  He smiled at her for the first time that morning. ‘I love you. You’re so brave.’

  She was glad he didn’t know quite how frightened she was. ‘Go.’ She pushed him away.

  He picked up his bike and swung his leg over the saddle. Estelle watched him pedal furiously away out of the yard, raising his hand briefly in a wave. She wondered when she would see him again. If she saw him again.

  Four

  Rosie

  London, 30 June 1940

  Rosie stared at the thick notepad in front of her. Aunt Muriel had given it to her as a present the night before.

  ‘I know you’re worried about Estelle and your family in Jersey and that you’ve been missing them, badly, so I wanted to buy you a diary to write in. We don’t know how long this war is set to last and I thought I’d buy you the thickest notepad I could find. That way, you can keep it for writing your thoughts and everything else you want to share with your sister when you’re back home again.’ Rosie recalled the way her aunt had put her arm around her shoulders and given her a determined look. ‘And you will be. You must remember that, especially when you’re feeling down. This is a very strange time for all of us, but it will pass. I promise you it will and you’ll be back at the farm in your old bedroom once again.’

  Rosie had hugged her aunt, grateful for her thoughtfulness and her words of encouragement. Now, she was sitting, fountain pen in hand and a blank page in front of her with no idea what to write.

  She wanted nothing more than to talk to Estelle. So that’s what she would do:

  Dear Essie,

  * * *

  Is it really true? Daddy’s been killed? In Jersey, of all places. We keep hearing on the wireless that the island was bombed and that the Nazis have invaded and it all seems like someone’s made a terrible mistake. I wish I could see you and you would give me one of your hugs and tell me that it had all been a bad dream, but I know that’s not possible because this is our lives right now.

  Big, fat salty tears splashed on the crisp paper as Rosie tried to put her thoughts into writing. The ink smudged in several places but she was too heartbroken to care, and continued writing:

  I wish I hadn’t told Daddy that I hated him before I left home. It was the last thing I ever said to him. I didn’t hate him, Essie. I loved him. I only said what I did because I was cross with him for sending me away. It’s the Nazis I hate. It’s their fault I’m here and not at home.

  * * *

  I wish I could cuddle Rebel. He’s going to miss Daddy as much as we will. Oh, Essie, I’m so scared about what’s going to happen to us all. What if I can never come home? How will you and Gran look after everything on the farm by yourselves? It upsets me to think that I’ll never be hugged by Daddy again, or hear him grumbling about his spuds, or how little he got for them when he sold them.

  * * *

  Everything’s changed and nothing makes sense any more. I know I’m feeling sorry for myself and Gran would tell me off for it and that I should think myself lucky to be staying at Aunt Muriel’s. You were right about her, Essie. She’s very kind and told me about what happened to Daddy very gently. She said that one day I’ll be able to think about him without crying.

  * * *

  Not today though.

  Five

  Estelle

  2 July 1940

  Estelle couldn’t bear to go far from the farm in the first few days after her father’s death. Most of her news was gleaned from neighbours or visiting the parish shops in St Ouen’s village and especially from Mr Gibault’s store. The Germans had arrived at the airport the day before but, so far, she was yet to see one in the flesh. Alone, on the farm, digging the last field of potatoes, with the summer sun warming her skin, it was almost as if nothing had happened.

  ‘I’ve heard that those Jerries have already got their flag up at Fort Regent for everyone to see,’ Violet Le Marrec, her grandmother’s closest friend and one of their nearest neighbours, said when Estelle opened the shop door for her as she went to leave. The older woman saw her and reached out to rest a hand on Estelle’s arm. ‘No one knows what to expect, do they?’

  Estelle shook her head. ‘No, we don’t.’

  ‘I thought I’d pop in to see your gran on my way home, lovey. Do you think she’ll be up for a visit?’

  Estelle knew that seeing Mrs Le Marrec would be the perfect tonic for her grandmother. ‘Gran’s always happy to see you. She hasn’t been off the farm since we were invaded and I’m sure she would love to see that you’re coping.’

  It troubled her to think what they might be in for over the coming days and weeks. She didn’t have to wait for long as, in the local paper that night, orders were issued by a Captain Gussek.

  ‘I suppose this is one of the things we’ll have to get used to,’ Gran said as she peeled potatoes for their supper at the sink. ‘Read them and tell me which apply to us.’

  Estelle sat at the kitchen table and read the newspaper: ‘There’s fourteen different orders,’ she said, then gasped. ‘We’re to be under curfew, Gran. From eleven in the evening until five in the morni
ng. No one can leave their homes.’

  Her grandmother cut the remaining potatoes angrily and plopped them into a pan of water and carried it over to the range. Estelle could see she was doing everything she could to hold it together and not let her anger show. ‘Come on, now, Estelle, my love. Neither of us are outside before five in the morning, nor out after eleven o’clock. So that shouldn’t worry us too much.’

  Gran was right, Estelle supposed, but at least it had been by choice up until now. She read on, then said, ‘We need to take Dad’s gun and any ammunition to the Town Arsenal by noon tomorrow.’ She took a deep breath, a wave of sadness washing over her. ‘I don’t want to have to do that.’

  Her grandmother thought for a moment. ‘No. That gun was precious to your dad, but if they tell us to hand it in then I think we must. We don’t want to get into trouble, do we?’

  No, thought Estelle, shaking her head. ‘You’re right, we should do as we’re told.’ But she couldn’t help wondering what would happen to them if they didn’t.

  ‘Tell me the rest, then,’ her grandmother said, as she began shelling the peas Estelle had picked from their vegetable patch earlier.

  ‘I’ll come with you to town, tomorrow, Gran, to take in Dad’s gun,’ she said, then read on, fear for Gerard coursing through her as she did so. ‘If Gerard is still on the island, he’s going to have to report at the Commandant's Office, which, apparently, is at Town Hall, at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.’ She said a silent prayer that he had found someone to lend him a boat to escape. ‘What do you think will happen to him, if he does report to the Germans?’