An Island at War

by Deborah Carr

  There’s a boy I like. I haven’t told Aunt Muriel because he’s a Private in Pierre’s unit. I’ve seen him around a few times when we’ve been out with Pierre and I think he might like me too because he blushed the other day when I spoke to him. I know Aunt Muriel won’t let me out of her sight and can’t see that I’ll ever have any time alone with him, but it’s the first time I’ve liked someone and I enjoy the fuzzy feeling in my tummy when I think of him. Maybe when you read this I will know more about him and might even have had my first kiss. (I hope Aunt Muriel never reads this book because, if she does, I’ll be for the high-jump).

  I’m not allowed out by myself when it’s dark because of the blackout. Aunt Muriel worries about me being hit by a car but I’ve tried to tell her that I’d be careful. So, most evenings, we sit and listen to the BBC in case there’s any official announcements, and we also enjoy listening to ITMA, it’s very funny and stands for It’s That Man Again and the comedian is someone called Tommy Handley, but there are other people in the show, too. Almost everyone we know listens to it.

  I’m tired of rationing and queuing for things at shops but Aunt Muriel said that everyone has to do it, so why shouldn’t we? I wonder if you and Gran have to queue at Mr Gibault’s shop? I shouldn’t really grumble. At least the bombs have stopped and it’s not nearly as bad here now as it was during the Blitz.

  Thirty-Three

  Estelle

  September 1942

  Estelle cycled into the yard and held tightly on to the handlebars careful not to let the bike fall. It had been a cool and rather duller summer than usual and it was the first time in a while that she had felt this warm. She had been fetching sea water from supplies kept in tanks for the islanders to collect.

  ‘I’m back, Gran,’ she sang, carrying the container into the kitchen.

  Her grandmother looked up from where she sat scrubbing potatoes over a small bowl of muddy looking water. ‘As soon as you’ve taken off your hat and coat, can you pour some into a pan and we’ll boil it. I’m desperate for some salt to make our meals a little tastier.’

  Estelle nodded and did as her grandmother requested. She could barely recall the taste of a roast lunch with all the trimmings. Her mouth watered at the thought and she promised herself that the first thing she would do after all this was over was to find something tasty to eat.

  ‘What’s on the menu tonight?’ she asked, grinning at her grandmother playfully. ‘Shall we have apple pie for pudding?’

  ‘Very funny,’ her grandmother said without smiling.

  She sensed that something wasn’t right with her grandmother. ‘Has something happened while I was out?’

  Her gran didn’t look up. ‘Like what?’ she asked, picking up another potato.

  ‘I’m not sure, but you’re frowning, and I can tell you’re concerned about something.’

  Her grandmother gave a deep sigh and stopped what she was doing resting her hands on the table. ‘You know they’ve been deporting British-born people off the island to Germany.’

  Estelle nodded. She’d been too frightened to mention anything to Gran in case she might be one of those sent away. ‘They haven’t… that is… you haven’t been summoned, have you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I lied on my Identity Card,’ she said, whispering, although Estelle was sure they were alone in the house. ‘I’ve been waiting anxiously in case someone turned me in or tipped them off about me being born in England and not actually being local but, so far, no one has.’

  Estelle, needing to give her a cuddle, went over to stand behind her grandmother and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. ‘Oh, I’m so relieved. I don’t know how I’d cope if you were sent away.’

  Gran murmured something Estelle missed. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘There are those, a couple from Antoinette’s street, who have— have killed themselves rather than be taken away.’

  Estelle’s stomach clenched in fear. The thought of being so frightened that you could do something that drastic devastated her. She walked around her gran to the table and pulled out a seat and sat down. Estelle took her gran’s closest hand to hers in her own, removed the sharp knife from her damp fingers and placed it on the table. Looking her in the eyes, she asked, ‘I know we both hope that your true birthplace won’t be discovered, but promise me that if they do come for you that you won’t do that?’

  Her grandmother didn’t react for a while but stared down at the bowl of brown water. Then, looking Estelle direct in her eyes, she shook her head. ‘I would never do that to you, or Rosie,’ she said with such determination that Estelle believed her.

  ‘I can’t imagine life without you.’

  Her gran sighed. ‘Well, you will have to one day, but I can reassure you that it won’t be at my own hand – and not by the Jerries, if I can help it.’ She pulled her hand from Estelle’s and picked up the knife, seeming a little more like her old self. ‘Now, I need to get on with preparing our supper, otherwise we’re going to go hungry tonight. Well, hungrier. I managed to buy some limpets from Violet’s friend and you know they take two hours to boil before I can make them into a pie with a bit of swede.’

  Estelle couldn’t stand limpet pie. The limpets tasted similar to mussels but parts of them were very chewy and made her feel rather sick, but she knew her grandmother was trying her best to keep them fed so kept her thoughts to herself.

  She was outside sweeping the yard, grateful for the rain to help clean the cobbles when a German car pulled up. She gave a cursory nod as Hans and Herr Fischer stepped out of the vehicle, but was surprised when the driver didn’t leave. She couldn’t help wondering what he was waiting for, but supposed the two officers must be changing to go out to dinner somewhere.

  She pretended to keep busy, waiting for them both to leave, but was left surprised to see only Herr Fischer coming out of the house. He handed his bag to the driver and then Estelle groaned inwardly to see he was coming over to speak to her.

  ‘Fräulein,’ he said, his guttural tones irritating her as the sound of his voice always did.

  ‘Herr Fischer, you are going somewhere?’ she asked, hopefully.

  ‘I am to move out from your farm today.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She did her best to keep any delight from her face. ‘You’ve found somewhere else to live, then?’

  He gave a nod. ‘I am sorry to leave here. However, I am needed to the north of the island and have been billeted in a house several miles away.’

  He stared at her and Estelle wondered if he was waiting for her to say something. Well, she had no intention of telling him that it had been fun having him at the farm, or that she would miss him.

  He stared at her. ‘Fräulein, I…’ He reached out and took her by her free hand. ‘I know that you only pretend not to like me.’

  Estelle’s skin seemed to crawl underneath his touch and she tried to pull her hand away. ‘Herr Fischer, I don’t wish to insult you…’

  ‘Silence.’

  Seconds later, he pulled her forwards roughly and into his arms, pressing his mouth against hers. Estelle gave a muffled cry, but his arms pinned hers to her sides tightly so she couldn’t fight him off her. She could barely breathe as he pressed himself hard against her. Her body was rigid with shock and she was helpless to defend herself. Tears filled her eyes and all she could do was try to forget what was happening.

  ‘Oberleutnant Fischer!’

  She heard Hans bark his name and, after one last push of his tongue into her mouth, the officer dropped his hold on her and spun on his heels, saluting Hans. ‘Hauptmann Bauer.’

  Estelle had no idea what Hans yelled at him, but he sounded furious and nodded to the car. Herr Fischer clicked his heels together and gave another salute to Hans before quickly turning to Estelle and whispering. ‘Did you enjoy that as much as me, Fräulein?’

  She shuddered at his words, still horribly aware of his rancid breath, but didn’t answer. Hans shouted another order. The offic
er immediately marched over to the car, got in and was driven away, but not before giving Estelle a one last leer and wave as the car went down the drive.

  Hans rushed over to her. ‘Estelle, are you all right?’ He took her arm lightly and looked at her, full of concern. ‘Please, accept my sincerest apologies. I am so very sorry. I have been trying for months to have him moved from here. I could see he was wanting to… wanting to do this. Now he has… and I shall make sure he pays severely for it.’

  Estelle was shaking and cold, she could barely focus on Hans. She shook her head. ‘Just make sure he doesn’t come here again. I’ve been looking over my shoulder since he arrived. I’m sure… I’m sure I’ll be… be fine.’

  ‘You are certain?’ Hans asked, looking distraught. ‘I have let you down. I knew he wanted to get you alone, which is why I always tried to be with him whenever he was here. I hated leaving the island knowing he was sleeping in your home.’

  She was grateful for all he’d done but mostly for him arranging another billet for Herr Fischer. ‘I just don’t want to ever have to see him again.’

  His hand moved from her arm. ‘I will do my best. Again, though as his senior officer and as your friend, please accept my deepest apologies for what has happened.’

  ‘Please don’t let my grandmother know what happened. I don’t want her upset unnecessarily.’

  ‘Of course. Come with me inside,’ he said, his voice gentle as he led her to the warmth of the kitchen.

  Too traumatised by what she had experienced, Estelle didn’t reply. He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down.

  ‘Please, will you wait one minute, I have something I wish to give you.’

  She waited as he went upstairs.

  Returning, Hans crouched down by Estelle so he was on her level and pressed a small, solid bar into her hands. She stared at it before turning her gaze to him. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  ‘Yes. It is chocolate. I brought it with me for you from Germany.’

  ‘You still have chocolate in Germany?’

  He shook his head. ‘It is something that is given to Luftwaffe pilots and I swapped it with a friend in exchange for a book of mine that he wanted.’ He rested a hand lightly on hers. ‘I had intended giving it to you on my return but thought it too risky with the Oberleutnant here. You must eat some of it now though. For the shock.’

  Estelle unwrapped the bar in her hand and, barely able to recall the taste of chocolate, broke a piece off and ate it. The sweet, soft chocolate soothed her instantly. She looked up at Hans and smiled. ‘Thank you, Hans.’

  In the following weeks, the weather had turned nasty but there was not enough fuel for heating the house or hot water. But for Estelle, life was a little easier. Herr Fischer had gone and she started to feel stronger, to deal with his violation of her, but not before promising herself she would use the fire she felt at the injustice of it to make sure no one would ever do that to her again. She would make him pay. In some way. It was November again and cold and it felt like they had been living under the Occupation for far longer than just over two years.

  Estelle was changing into her father’s old overalls, she had taken in and taken up. She wore some of his woollen socks under her boots and two of his pullovers to keep warm and was glad now that they had thought to keep his clothes. Not only for the warmth but also the comfort of feeling something of his close to her. That awful day since she had last seen him felt so very long ago now. What would he think of everything? What would he think of her?

  Some of his better woollen pullovers had been unravelled and Gran had spent many summer evenings, or afternoons knitting new tops for those in need and for themselves. The latest things she had created from one of her dad’s older pullovers were new bed socks for them both to keep them warm at night – and, wanting to pay Hans back for being so thoughtful, she also made a pair for him.

  Estelle was outside in the yard, breathing in the cold damp air, when she felt a drop of rain on her face and looked up at the heavy steel grey clouds. Wanting to put her bike away in the barn before it got soaked, she grabbed the handlebars and pushed it at a quick jog over to the barn. She pulled open the heavy wooden door, the dark red paint of which had faded over the years to a muted pink, and thought she heard a rustling noise. Stopping instantly, Estelle was on high alert, listening carefully for any further noises. Did she expect Herr Fischer to jump out at her from behind the hay bales? No. She was being ridiculous. Hans had promised he wouldn’t come here again and she trusted him to keep Herr Fischer away from the farm. But… but she couldn’t forget the way he had forced himself on her and the determined look he’d had in his eyes as he left.

  Trying to put those thoughts out of her mind, she pushed her bike under a tarpaulin and returned to the house. She hated these colder dark nights keeping them inside much earlier than they had done during the summer. She decided to pour herself a glass of water and have an early night. At least she could get slightly warm in her bed. Candles were scare now too so she couldn’t afford to stay up drawing during the night.

  Estelle had just turned off the tap at the kitchen sink when she was certain she heard a knock on the window. Her heart missed a beat. However, she reasoned that if Herr Fischer was going to come to the house, he wouldn’t knock on the window, but on the door. Or would he even knock? He was not a man who asked for permission. There was another quieter tap on the glass, and Estelle’s heart pounded heavily as she pulled the blackout blind slightly back to peer out, not knowing what to expect. It was before curfew, but she couldn’t imagine any of her neighbours needing to come to the farm.

  She couldn’t see anything, initially, but then someone stood up and a pale, grey face with a haunted look in its deep-set eyes stared back at her. Estelle opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. The young man was trembling and she suspected it was due to fear as well as the freezing weather. He looked like one of the Todt slaves. Looking at the clock on the wall, she saw it was almost eight o’clock and knew Hans was due back at the farm soon. She pointed for the man to go to the barn. He seemed to understand, so Estelle replaced the blackout blind and ran upstairs to her grandmother’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

  ‘Gran, are you still dressed?’

  The door opened and her grandmother waved her inside. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  Estelle told her about the face at the window. ‘It’s one of the slaves, Gran. I think he’s gone to the barn, but Hans is going to be back soon. How did he know to come here? Where’s he come from? He was taking a chance, surely? What if we reported him?’

  ‘You need to take a few deep breaths and calm down, my love’ she said. ‘He’s come here because he will have been reassured we would help.’

  ‘How would he know that?’

  Her grandmother smiled. ‘Because I know people.’

  Estelle’s mouth dropped open and she couldn’t think of anything to say at first. ‘Who?’

  ‘That’s for me to know, not you. The least you know, the better. Right, come on, now, we need to give him food and water and something to wash with. Then he needs something warm.’

  Estelle knew her grandmother had changed her details on her Identity Card but had no idea the friends she would pop out to see had ulterior motives. ‘Gran, you are a dark horse. And, an incredible lady.’

  ‘Right now, I’m more concerned with the poor chap waiting for us in the barn.’

  ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘You fetch a bowl of water and two cloths. One for him to wash with and a towel for him to dry himself. I’ll take out some of your father’s clothes for him.’ She hurriedly slipped her feet out of her slippers and into her shoes. ‘We must be quick and help him before Hans returns, otherwise he will be out in that barn all night until Hans leaves again in the morning. It’s too dangerous to go out to him while Hans is here in the house. Right, move yourself. Oh, and make sure to leave Rebel in the house, I don’t want him to frighten the poor man.’ />
  Estelle wasn’t so sure Hans would turn them in but knew she couldn’t take the risk that she was wrong. She left her grandmother and ran down to the kitchen. Taking a deep bowl from one of the cupboards, she grabbed a cloth and a towel. Rebel got out of his bed and waited by the door ready to accompany her. ‘No, boy. You have to stay indoors.’ Without pulling on her own coat, she ran outside through the rain to the barn, careful not to spill any of the water. She closed the door behind her and waited for her eyes to get used to the dark.

  ‘Hello? Are you there?’ She could hear the tremble in her own voice, but her grandmother would be joining her soon, so it wasn’t as if she had anything much to worry about. Anyway, she decided, this poor man must be far more frightened of her than she was of him.

  She heard movement to her right and turned her head to see the man carefully stepping forward. He was barefoot and his feet were caked in dirt and mud. She didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so thin or cold before.

  ‘I’m Estelle. I’ve brought you something to wash with,’ she said, unsure if he understood her, so she mimicked using the water to wash herself.

  ‘Thank you.’

  His voice had an accent but she had no idea where he might be from. ‘I’ll leave this here and go and fetch you something to eat and drink. My grandmother will bring you clothes to change into very soon.’

  He looked a little confused, but Estelle left the barn and ran back across the yard. She pulled open the front door and almost slammed into her grandmother.