An Island at War

by Deborah Carr

Estelle swallowed to moisten her dry throat and looked up at him. He wasn’t as tall as most of them seemed to be and maybe a little older. His heavy brow lowered and from the look of his uniform, Estelle guessed he was an officer.

  ‘No. I mean, thank you. Sorry… I…’

  His hands dropped from her shoulders. ‘Where are you going?’

  She looked around at the people walking past determinedly trying not to catch her eye. Why didn’t one of them help her? It occurred to her that there was nothing much anyone could do. They were probably relieved they weren’t the ones in her position and she couldn’t blame them for that. ‘I… I am on my way to the shops… for my grandmother.’

  He looked her up and down for a few seconds in silence. Then, when she didn’t react, he waved her away. ‘Go. You must walk, not run. It is dangerous.’

  She picked up a hidden meaning behind his words but wasn’t sure if he was threatening her and, if so, in what way. He stepped back to let her pass.

  Estelle made sure she walked the rest of the way back, but her legs were shaking uncontrollably and her pulse was racing. Her confrontation with the Nazi, who by his superior manner she definitely knew was an officer now, had frightened her. With her grandmother’s words of warning in her head, the last thing she wanted was to be noticed by an officer of the Wehrmacht, especially someone like that man. She knew a bully when she saw one.

  Six

  Estelle

  The next ten days were ones that Estelle knew she would never forget. The fog of grief she felt for her father hung heavy and some days it took all her strength to get out of bed in the morning. But her grandmother needed her. Rosie needed her. She had to make sure they had a home and livelihood for if, no, when, Rosie returned. And then there were so many new rules and regulations to get used to. Most of all, though, she was concerned for Gerard’s welfare. She returned to Town Hall each day, to watch Gerard and the other island men parade, but always on the lookout for the German officer with the heavy eyebrows.

  Despite her fear of the officer, Estelle always stood as close to the same place as she could to make it easier for Gerard to spot her in the crowd. There was always a crowd of the same islanders who made a point of being there each day. Even if they didn’t have loved ones there.

  Her mood was always low as she left Gerard behind each day but at least for the time being he was still on the island and, unbelievably, as Estelle discovered, they were able to see each other. Gerard and the other men were ordered to register at Town Hall each morning but were allowed to go back to their homes after that.

  It was comforting to have Gerard with her, and even helping on the farm with the potato crop, especially on the days when her grief threatened to overwhelm her. Estelle knew that both she and Gran were doing their best to be brave but the empty space, where her father’s once big personality had been the life and soul of the farm, was always on the verge of engulfing her.

  Time seemed to fly by as she and Gerard worked side by side and made their plans about what they would do after the war was over. Estelle had always loved to draw and her mother’s interest in fashion had passed to her daughter. She had once hoped to design clothes for one of the famous boutiques in Paris but that was an impossible dream now that her father was gone and she was the only one left who could keep the farm going. Neither she nor Gerard ever mentioned the possibility that it could take years for them to see freedom again. It was more important to remain hopeful and positive, the alternative too frightening to bear.

  Ten thirty seemed to come around only too soon when Gerard would have to cycle home to be inside his parents’ farmhouse by curfew at eleven o’clock and she would try to take her mind off everything by spending a couple of hours with her notepad and coloured pencils, designing dresses that she knew would never be made.

  ‘I was so happy to discover you were still on the island,’ Estelle said as she walked along the lane back to the farmhouse hand in hand with him. ‘I still can’t believe I get to see you. I honestly thought when you had to report to Town Hall that you would all be locked up somewhere. Or worse, sent to Europe.’

  His expression changed as if he was about to say something but decided against it.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ Gerard shrugged off.

  She studied him and realised what was going through his mind. ‘I understand you’re frustrated being stuck here. But I can’t help being as happy as I am that I still have you here with me. Is that wrong?’

  He shook his head and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘No more than me feeling irritated to still be going home to the farm each day when all I want to do is get off this rock and back to my ship to do my bit.’

  Gerard stopped talking and took her in his arms pulling her close. ‘Kiss me again.’

  She did, happily. Neither of them knew how long they had together, or if this was the way things might continue.

  As she opened her eyes to look at him after their kiss, she noticed Gerard had frowned and looked serious.

  ‘What is it? I can still see you each evening, can’t I?’ Her stomach felt like it had been filled with tiny butterflies and she knew he was about to tell her something she wasn’t going to like.

  ‘I’ve heard from a friend of Dad’s that they’ve been working on the holiday camp in Grouville. To use it as a prison.’ Estelle shivered, knowing that whatever was coming next wouldn’t be good. ‘Estelle, I think the next time we parade, or if we’re lucky, the time after that, the Jerries will arrest us and take us there.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she pleaded. ‘Let’s just enjoy right now.’

  He took her hands in his. ‘I’d love to, but I can’t bear to think that something will happen and you’ll be frightened. I want you to know that, whatever happens, I’ll be all right and that I’ll come back to you.’

  He couldn’t possibly know that, Estelle thought to herself, but simply nodded. He was strong and fit and determined when he had to be so she would just have to trust him. ‘I know you will be,’ she said, praying he was right.

  He put one hand against her left cheek and stared deeply into her eyes. ‘I want you to promise me that if I am taken away, you’ll be careful and not do anything foolhardy.’ She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head to stop her. ‘We both know you think you’re as strong as any man, and,’ he said a glint of humour in his eyes, ‘you are definitely much cleverer. But, Estelle, if something happens to me, don’t try to do anything that could bring you in harm’s way. Please. Promise me that you won’t.’

  She was desperate to argue with him because if anything was going to happen to Gerard, she’d damned well not take it lying down but wasn’t going to spend what could possibly be her last evening with him quarrelling. He needed her reassurance and that’s what she would give him. ‘I promise,’ she said, almost meaning it.

  The following morning, Estelle stepped off the bus at Weighbridge, the bus station from where they could see the glistening of the sea in the harbour even if they couldn’t go out to it. She was glad to be out of the steamy heat of the crowded vehicle and able to enjoy more comfortable air, cooled by the slight sea breeze that was blowing gently from the harbour. She still found it strange hearing German voices and seeing the men in their immaculate uniforms standing on what seemed to be most of the street corners. Estelle had intended crossing the road if she saw one walking towards her on the pavement, but there seemed to be so many now on the island, especially on the town streets that she would have ended up crossing the road several times each time she went somewhere, so didn’t bother.

  Today, Gran had given her a shopping list that included a small bag of Reckitt’s Paris Blue. She swore by it, claiming that it kept the whites in her laundry from yellowing and wanted to be sure to have some at the farmhouse before things became scarce. Estelle wasn’t sure why it mattered so much that their laundry stayed white but didn’t like to argue. She wanted to get all her shopping out of the way befor
e going to watch Gerard parading, so hurried along the pavement, passing the front entrance of the Pomme d’Or hotel and then along Conway Street on her way to the shop on Broad Street, careful to avoid bumping into any soldiers as best she could.

  She had almost reached the shop when she saw a soldier say something to a girl she presumed to be about her age. The girl walked on in Estelle’s direction unable to hide the happy smile on her face when a mealy-mouthed woman stepped out in front and knocked her shoulder into the girl’s sending her stumbling backward with the force. Estelle gasped when she realised that it had been on purpose and, not liking what she was seeing, she hurried over to the girl.

  ‘You want to watch yourself, miss.’ The woman sneered before seeing Estelle. Then looking Estelle up and down, added. ‘And so do you.’

  Estelle was so taken aback that she couldn’t speak for a moment. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked the girl, who looked close to tears.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  She watched the girl walk away, her head down, and recalled her grandmother’s warning. She really did need to be very careful if she didn’t want people to get the wrong idea about her.

  Two soldiers were standing on either side of the entrance to the shop. Only a few months ago, she had seen men in uniforms like this on the Pathé News at the Forum and here they were now, standing on streets that were so familiar to her. The soldiers greeted her politely and then stepped back to let her enter. Estelle clenched her fists at her sides, unable to stop the flash of anger as she remembered that if it wasn’t for these Nazis, her father would still be at home working on the farm. True, some seemed pleasant and well-mannered, but nothing made up for what they represented. The brutality of gunning down innocent, unarmed men. Estelle ignored them and entered the shop on Broad Street.

  As she waited her turn, there was a soldier standing in front of her in the queue. She took the time to study him. They all appeared so healthy and strong and, she observed, this man was no exception, with his fair-hair and golden suntan. She had heard from her friend Antoinette that many saw Jersey as a summer holiday, a paradise island with good weather and beautiful beaches. But they weren’t welcome here. This wasn’t a holiday for the islanders and, again, Estelle felt a tiny flash of intense hatred. They should be made to pay for being here, for what they’d done to get here. He was standing perfectly straight, making the most of his six-feet-plus height. She wanted to distance herself from him, even if only by several inches, and took a step back straight on to someone’s foot.

  ‘Oof!’ an older woman exclaimed. ‘Watch where yer standin’.’

  The soldier turned to see what was going on and Estelle, mortified to be the centre of attention, spun round and apologised to the woman. She hoped the soldier didn’t realise what she had really been intending to do, but by the look of disdain on his face he knew perfectly well.

  ‘Next, please,’ called the shopkeeper in his white coat. Mr Le Blancq looked irritated with his shoppers and she didn’t blame him. Who would want to spend all day serving these soldiers and nervous locals? The soldier stepped forward and asked for something she couldn’t quite make out. Finally, it was her turn.

  ‘Please can I have a Reckitt’s Bag Blue? The Paris Blue one, please. He nodded, picked one up from a drawer behind the counter and told her how much it would be. Estelle smiled and opened her purse, counted out the money and went to hand it over to him.

  The shopkeeper scowled at her. ‘And what am I supposed to do with that, Estelle Le Maistre?’

  She looked at the coins in her hand, confused by his odd question. ‘Sorry, haven’t I given you enough? My grandmother said—’

  ‘I’m not allowed to take sterling now,’ he said, looking past her. ‘If anyone else hasn’t realised this yet, please take note.’

  ‘Since when?’ Estelle asked, following his gaze. She saw two further soldiers who had now joined the back of the queue. Lowering his voice, the shopkeeper said, ‘Since these lot arrived.’

  ‘Then how am I supposed to pay for it? Gran will be furious if I don’t buy some for her today.’ It was a slight exaggeration, but Estelle thought it was worth a try.

  ‘I can only take Reichsmarks,’ he repeated, his voice louder now for the soldiers near the front door to hear.

  ‘But what if I don’t have any in my purse?’

  He nodded in the direction of the road outside.

  ‘What am I supposed to do with this lot,’ Estelle asked angrily as she indicated her shopping in her basket. She had several tins of beans and fruit and it was heavy.

  ‘You can leave that with me. I’ll put it behind the counter here with your Reckitt’s Bag Blue and you can go to the bank and change your money for the right currency.’

  ‘The right currency? Anyone would think we weren’t in Jersey any more.’ She replied, frustrated. She heard two of the Germans say something to each other and one laughed. It was all she could do not to snap at him.

  ‘Come now. We have to abide by the rules. Now, if you want your shopping, I suggest you hurry and get to the bank and come back here before I close for lunch. I’ll hold this for you under the counter in the meantime. They’ll change your money for you. You should get eight Marks to the pound, so make sure you get the right amount back from the teller. Go on.’

  Estelle had little choice but to do as he asked so, reluctantly, leaving her shopping items behind, she took her purse and walked out of the shop and across the road to the bank… where she saw yet another lengthy queue! This was becoming interminable. All she seemed to do these days was queue for ages, often to reach the front and discover whatever she wanted had just sold out, or that the regulations had changed and she could no longer get what she needed. She knew she was over-reacting and that everyone was in the same boat, but it didn’t make it any more bearable.

  After exchanging her money and finishing her shopping, Estelle ran to Town Hall in the hope she would still be in time to see Gerard parading. Unlike the previous days, though, there was no sign of the men and nothing much seemed to be happening apart from quite a few women appeared to still be waiting. Presently, she spotted Antoinette and ran up to her.

  ‘Have I missed it? I know I’m a bit late but—’ She noticed how red her friend’s eyes were and suspected she knew what had happened to the men. ‘Antoinette?’

  Her friend wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘They’ve taken them, Estelle.’

  Estelle swallowed her rising panic, aware that she would be no help to her friend, or Gerard, if she became hysterical. ‘Where have they taken them?’ Estelle asked as calmly as she could manage. ‘Do you know?’

  Antoinette began to sob. ‘I don’t know. I can’t bear it if they hurt Paul!’

  ‘Have you spoken to anyone about where they have been taken?’

  ‘I tried to ask at Town Hall but they wouldn’t say. And I… I was scared. There were so many of them and they were all staring at me.’ Antoinette replied, tears streaming down her face.

  Looking around for someone to help, Estelle took hold of her friend’s hand. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Come with me,’ she said, holding Antoinette’s hand reassuringly and, determinedly, walked her right up to a group of German officers who were talking close by.

  The men stopped speaking as Estelle approached and one turned to her, a stern expression on his face. ‘Fräulein?’

  ‘We need to know where our men have been taken?’ She demanded. ‘The ones who are usually here each morning.’

  There was a long pause as he considered her for a moment. Then, with a brief tilt of his head to his fellow officers, he replied: ‘They have been interred.’

  ‘Interred?’ Antoinette cried out and Estelle clutched her hand even tighter.

  ‘We need to know where they are and when we can see them. To ensure they haven’t been mistreated.’

  The man raised his eyebrows and she wasn’t sure if it was in amusement or surprise that she had the cheek to question him.


  ‘You will find them at the Grouville camp. You know where this is?’

  ‘Yes. The old holiday camp there. And we’ll be able to speak to them?’

  ‘I think not, Fräulein. They are prisoners of war now.’

  ‘Come along, Antoinette,’ she said, undeterred, leading her friend away, ‘we have a bus to catch.’

  Estelle arrived home an hour and a half later, exhausted. She and Antoinette had been turned away before they even got to the camp and were told not to come back. However, not to be put off, she had promised Antoinette she would try again tomorrow. Now, walking up the short driveway, she discovered her grandmother hurriedly pulling on her hat and marching out of the yard. Her teeth were clenched and she looked furious.

  ‘Where are you going, Gran?’

  ‘Come with me and you’ll see for yourself. Poor Violet Le Marrec’s car is being requisitioned. She sent young Peter Bisson to cycle here and ask me to go to her house to be with her.’

  Estelle had no intention of letting her grandmother and her elderly friend face the Nazis alone. She turned around and walked with her up the road and down the nearby lane towards their neighbour’s home. Violet was her grandmother’s closest friend and had been the first to welcome her grandmother when she first arrived on the island.

  ‘She was there to support me when I needed to be strong and help your father look after you and your new baby sister,’ she said as they hurried. ‘Coming to the farm to make meals and help with washing. She was my saving grace when I lost your mother, Estelle, and I’m not going to let her down now when she needs me.’

  Estelle wished she too had a good friend who lived closer to the farm with whom she could confide in. She missed her father desperately and wished that Rosie was still living at home certain that the isolation she felt since the start of the Occupation wouldn’t be nearly as dreadful if they were there.

  Minutes later, the two women arrived at Violet’s small yard, with its granite cottage half the size of their farmhouse and a beautifully kept garden at the front. Estelle was aware of the smallholding at the back where Violet’s husband had grown his own vegetables; but since his death ten years before, she had given up trying to keep everything in order and had now given over the back area to wildflowers and apple trees. It looked pretty but it occurred to Estelle that it wasn’t going to be much use to the older woman if she needed extra food.