by Deborah Carr
Since their kiss, Hans had made excuses to be out for much of the time, only returning late when he assumed she would be in bed. At least that was how it seemed to Estelle. She missed his company but was relieved not to have to see him too much in case she inadvertently showed her feelings for him again. She had to find a way to forget him. There was no other way.
It has been lonely on the farm with only Rebel to speak to.
Now, though, the weather was getting warmer, the spuds were ready to be harvested and Hans had promised to help her and the three farmhands work the fields in his free time. It seemed that as long as they were in different parts of the field he was happy to help.
Estelle wanted everything to be ready for her grandmother’s return and spent the morning cleaning and dusting and making up her bed with fresh bed linen. She had placed a small tray with a jug of fresh water and a glass in case her gran was thirsty when Estelle was out working on the fields and a vase of wildflowers she had picked earlier from the garden sat on her grandmother’s dressing table to brighten the room. She left a pan of thick vegetable soup on the side of the range to be eaten with a small fresh loaf of wholemeal bread she had brought earlier that day from Mr Gibault.
‘Here, love,’ he said, popping out to the back of his shop and returning with a small fillet of fish. ‘Give this to your gran for her supper, it’ll do her good.’
Violet had come to the house earlier with a bunch of wildflowers, which Estelle had placed in Gran’s favourite vase and set on the kitchen table. It would be one of the first things she would see when she arrived home.
It occurred to Estelle that her gran might want a picture of her husband by her bed. There was one in the living room on the mantelpiece, but she thought it might be nice for her to have one closer to her. She ran up the stairs to take a quick look though Gran’s drawers to see if she could find one. Recalling her gran mentioning keeping something in an old suitcase, she looked towards the top of the wardrobe where she knew it had once been, but it wasn’t there. Maybe it’s under the bed? she thought bending down to have a look.
She smiled to see the old suitcase lying there and then noticed her father’s shotgun sticking out from behind the case. So that’s where it went? They were lucky not to have been searched. She opened the suitcase to look inside and noticed an envelope addressed to Esther Woods inside.
‘Esther?’ she said aloud to herself. Her grandmother’s name was Marnie, at least that’s what her father and Violet had always called her.
‘You didn’t know?’ Hans asked from the bedroom doorway.
She dropped the envelope, in shock to hear his voice so unexpectedly. Quickly, she closed the lid of the case and pushed it back under the bed to ensure he didn’t see the shotgun. She hadn’t heard him come back and wished she’d thought to close the bedroom door. ‘Know what?’ she asked standing.
‘That your grandmother is Jewish.’
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous. What on earth makes you say that?’ But as she asked the question, Estelle began to recall the strange and distracted way her grandmother had been acting, especially when the orders for Jewish islanders to register had come into force.
She had been so anxious. Wait, not anxious, Estelle thought. Terrified.
‘Her name is not Marnie. She is Esther Woods.’
How did she not know? Her grandmother had been hiding such an enormous, terrible secret all this time. Living with the fear that any moment the Germans could have knocked down their door and dragged them away?
‘You knew?’ She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You knew and you didn’t report her?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t understand. How did you find out when I didn’t even know?’ How oblivious must she be not to know this about the person closest in the world to her?
‘I have suspected she was hiding something for a long time but it was when her friend Mrs Green was taken away and I happened to come across her burning papers early one morning. She told me everything but she didn’t beg me not to report her. All she did was ask that I made sure you would be all right. Her first thought was for your safety.’
Estelle folded her arms across her chest. ‘For my sake? Why?’
‘Estelle, if your grandparent is Jewish, then so are you. She wasn’t afraid for herself but trying to protect you.’
‘But you haven’t reported her. You kept her secret for her.’
‘I was honoured to. Your grandmother is a fine woman. Generous and kind. Brave. I only wish I could have helped more people in her situation.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘I am loyal to the Fatherland, to my people, but my country is not my country any more.’
Later that day, Estelle sat at the end of her grandmother’s bed. She was still stunned by her earlier discovery and now that her grandmother was settled she needed to speak to her about it. She hadn’t been this happy for weeks, she realised, pushing aside her guilty memory of how blissful it had felt to kiss Hans.
Her grandmother gazed at the flowers on her dressing table and then looked at Estelle and smiled. ‘It’s so good to be back home again, my love. I’ve missed you and this place.’
Estelle took her grandmother’s hand in hers. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed having you here. Now, you are going to do as I tell you and take things easy. Agreed?’
Her grandmother grinned. ‘Yes. I’ve learnt my lesson. Probably.’ She laughed. Then patting Estelle’s hand asked, ‘How has it been with just you and Hans living in the house alone?’
Estelle couldn’t meet her grandmother’s eye. ‘It was a little awkward at first, but he’s been very busy and out most of the time.’
‘I don’t like to think of you alone here for long periods of time.’ She frowned, a thoughtful expression on her thin face which Estelle noticed for the first time seemed to have many more lines than she had ever noticed before.
She took a deep breath. ‘We need to talk and I think you know what about.’
Her grandmother stared at her silently for a few seconds before patting Estelle’s hand. ‘About me lying on my Identity Card when I’ve always insisted that liars are beneath contempt.’
‘I think it’s a little more than that, don’t you?’ she said. ‘Why did you never trust me enough to be honest with me?’
‘To protect you, Estelle. I didn’t want you to have to worry about what I’d done.’
‘You took such a risk. How did you think you could get away with keeping this to yourself?’
Her grandmother smiled. ‘I almost did.’ When Estelle raised an eyebrow in irritation, the older woman continued, ‘I grew up attending the synagogue in London but I haven’t been practicing my faith since coming to live in Jersey, so apart from my friend Rachel Green.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Poor Rachel. I can’t bear to thing what they did to her.’ She collected herself and continued. ‘No one apart from your father, of course, knew that I was Jewish. I thought that if I kept it to myself there was little chance of anyone ever finding out.’
Her grandmother turned her head to stare out of the window, thoughtfully. ‘I’ve kept abreast of the increased harassment of Jews across Europe for years now, heard stories from friends and cousins living on the continent. So when the war began I knew I had to hide my identity. I had to take a chance when the Germans ordered all Jews on the island to register and withhold the truth because if I was honest then you would also be sent to a camp and I couldn’t bear for that to happen.
‘Because I’m from the mainland, another fact also withheld, the Germans had no way of checking my religion because there are no records of me here. I felt I had nothing to lose by lying about my background when registering for my Identity Card. I admit I did feel rather guilty at first for lying to you but your welfare is more important to me than anything else and for that I have no regrets.’
‘But Hans knows,’ Estelle said.
‘He’s a good man, Estelle.’ Her grandmother gave her a solemn look. ‘One of very few that I
’ve come across. I’ll be forever grateful to him.’
‘As will I,’ she said, honestly.
‘And you understand my reasons behind my decision?’
‘I do.’
Her grandmother smiled and gave Estelle’s hand a gentle squeeze. ‘Thank you. I hoped that when you found out what I’d done that you’d know I did it for the best.’
She put her arms around her grandmother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Always.’
A week or so later, Estelle and her grandmother saw first-hand just how much of a risk they were taking. Estelle had been to Mr Gibault’s to hear that he didn’t have any of the items she needed and that she should try Louisa Gould’s shop on the other side of the village. It was a longer walk but today Estelle didn’t mind.
Several German cars sped along the road and Estelle stepped back to avoid them. Something was amiss. She had no idea what was going on but her instincts told her to turn around and go home. If she was wrong then she could go shopping again tomorrow. But what if she was right?
She was on her way into the house when Violet stepped out of the back door.
‘You’re leaving?’ she asked, surprised when Violet didn’t return her smile. ‘Is something the matter, Mrs Le Marrec?’
‘I’ll leave your gran to tell you everything. But something dreadful has happened, Estelle.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Those bastards have arrested Louisa Gould and her maid.’
Estelle was shocked. She’d never heard Violet speak in such a way before. ‘When?’
‘Just now. And I believe her sister, Ivy, was arrested, too, but at her house, and her brother and someone else. I don’t know the whole story yet, but I do know it’s bad.’ She clasped her handbag to her chest. ‘I’d better get home. To think it was only down the road from us.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor women. I do hope they let them off, but I can’t see that happening, not after what they did.’
‘What on earth did they do?’ Estelle couldn’t imagine the kindly lady who had lost one of her sons at the beginning of the war being capable of doing anything too drastic to the Nazis.
Estelle ran inside. ‘Gran? Gran, where are you?’
‘I’m here,’ she said walking into the hall.
‘Violet just said…’
‘I know. Come.’
Estelle listened to her grandmother and shuddered. ‘She housed a prisoner? But Gran, that means… Ivan?’ Her words trailed off as her grandmother shook her head and the seriousness of what they had done for the poor man in the past sank in. ‘But what’s going to happen to them? If it wasn’t Ivan, did they find the man she was sheltering?’
‘Violet says not. Apparently, someone warned Louisa in time for him to escape out the back but in the rush he left something behind, a book I think, and now the Germans have the evidence that she was sheltering a Russian.’ She placed a hand on her chest. ‘What is the world coming to when we are persecuted for helping others less fortunate than ourselves?’
‘Who told on her, that’s what I’d like to know?’ Estelle said, furious that someone Mrs Gould knew could have told the Germans about her sheltering an escaped slave. How else would they have known he was there?
Forty-One
Estelle
7 June 1944
Estelle helped her grandmother deadhead her roses in the front garden as another distant boom sounded. She couldn’t believe that what they were hearing was coming from across the water in Normandy. They’d heard on the wireless that it was Allies advancing. D-Day everyone was calling it. ‘Do you think they’ll come to the Channel Islands next, Gran?’
‘Everyone thinks so and I hope they’re right.’ She carried her wicker trug filled with the cut flowers she was collecting to brighten the house on to the next border. ‘I always have to remember to be careful not to disturb the carrots and mange tout we’re growing among these flowers. I look forward to a time when my flower borders aren’t part vegetable garden.’
‘We’re lucky we have our veg garden, Gran,’ Estelle grinned. ‘If this was our only growing space we’d have had to forgo all our flowers these past few years.’
She heard her grandmother mumble something under her breath before saying, ‘Never mind that. Four years has been more than long enough.’ She lifted a pink rose to her nose and breathed in the rich scent. ‘I hardly dare believe it though.’
Estelle knew what she meant. She dared to let herself hope that liberation might soon be coming to their small group of islands.
Her gran put down her trug, walked over to Estelle and held the rose up to her nose to smell it. ‘This to me smells of happiness,’ she said. ‘It won’t be long now, my girl. Who knows maybe Rosie will be home with us in a few short weeks? Then we can spend the rest of the summer enjoying the garden and slowly rebuilding all that we’ve gone without. This island will come back from this, you mark my words. We might be a little battle sore but we’re tougher than we appear.’
Estelle gasped. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘I’m hoping so and, what’s more, you never know.’
Another louder boom. They stood in the garden staring over in the direction of the bombs. Estelle smiled. Never mind Gran’s smell of happiness being the scent of tea roses, to her the sound of freedom was what she was hearing now. Or at least she hoped it was.
It was a glorious day made even more fun by a visit from Antoinette who came from town with Louis to relax with them in the garden for a couple of hours.
Estelle sat with Antoinette and her grandmother watching as the little boy threw Rebel’s ball and giggled excitedly each time Rebel fetched it and brought it back to him dropping it at the boy’s feet.
Another boom made Antoinette flinch.
‘You all right?’ Estelle asked.
She leant forward in her chair resting her elbows on her knees as she watched her son. ‘I know the sounds of those bombs is good news for us, but I can’t help worrying what’s happening to Paul each time I hear one go off.’
Estelle experienced a rush of guilt towards Gerard. Why hadn’t she thought of that too? Gerard deserved so much better. Did she still love as she once had, or was it that he just belonged to another life, the one they’d shared before the war?
‘We’ll most likely be free from this hell soon,’ Antoinette said, thoughtfully. ‘But what about Paul and Gerard and all the other people who’ve been deported from the island? How soon will they be home, do you think?’
Estelle had no idea and said so.
Her grandmother caught her eye and motioned to the other side of the house. Estelle wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell her at first but then heard the familiar sound of the car dropping Hans off. She didn’t think Antoinette had met him yet and didn’t want her friend to see how relaxed he was with them and get the wrong idea.
Antoinette began speaking again but Estelle was too busy listening out for the unmistakable sound of Hans’s footsteps. Rebel ran past Louie and the little boy screamed in excitement. Seconds later, Estelle heard Hans running around the side of the house, no doubt to see what was wrong in the garden. Antoinette saw him and, leaping out of her chair, ran towards Louis in panic.
Estelle glanced back at the house coming face to face with Hans as he came around the corner. He was ashen and not his usually collected self. In fact, she thought, he was in a bit of a state. He stopped suddenly when he saw the three women.
‘I thought…’ He noticed Antoinette and gave her a curt nod. ‘I apologise. I heard the child and was worried something had happened.’
Antoinette clasped Louis tightly to her. Louis burst into noisy tears, his eyes wide with fright at the sudden change in his mother’s mood.
‘It’s fine, Captain Bauer,’ Estelle said, noticing his surprise at the formal use of his name before he managed to correct himself. ‘There’s nothing to be concerned about. This is my friend Antoinette and her son, Louis.’ She smiled, hoping to lighten the change in atmosphere. ‘He was playing with Rebe
l’s ball and got a little excited, bless him.’
‘I see.’
There was another distant boom, slightly louder than the last and Estelle saw something cross his face. Was it fear? The end to this occupation that would bring such joy to her meant defeat for Hans. She gazed at his handsome face and recalled how his kiss had made her feel and all the kind things he had done for her and her grandmother, but try as she might, she couldn’t feel sympathy for his countrymen. He was a good man but the Nazis had no right taking over the Channel Islands when they were at their weakest and she longed to see the back of them and a return to her previous life.
Gran gestured at Antoinette, and Estelle realised she hadn’t introduced Hans to her yet. ‘This is our friend Antoinette Hubert,’ her grandmother said. ‘Antoinette, please meet Captain Bauer. He is the officer Estelle must have told you about. He has been billeted here at Beau Bois Farm since early in the war.’ Gran smiled at Hans. ‘He has been a gentlemanly house guest, but I’m sure he will be as pleased as us when this is all over and he can return to his life back in Germany.’ She looked at him. ‘Won’t you?’
He appeared to have to think before answering her question. ‘We have not lost the war just yet, Frau Woods.’
‘By the sounds of those explosions, it won’t be long, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Antoinette loosened her grip on her son and watched as he picked up Rebel’s ball and gave it another throw.
‘I will wish you all a good day. I have a report to write in my room. It was good to meet you, Frau Hubert.’ He gave a nod to Estelle and her grandmother. ‘Frau Woods, Miss Le Maistre,’ he said before turning and retracing his steps.