by Helen Peters
I had to admit that a stomach ache from eating unripe raspberries was a good idea. Faking actual illness might lead to all sorts of complications, whereas this could be over in a couple of hours, just as I finished my shift in the barn.
The only problem would be if Aunty Rose came upstairs to check on me. I knew Molly would do all she could to prevent that, but I wished we’d had a chance to discuss it. It would have been one less thing to worry about.
I arranged my pillow lengthways in the bed, with the covers on top of it. Then I closed the curtains. With any luck, if Aunty Rose did come to check, she would see the shape in the bed and leave the room without investigating any further.
I started to tiptoe downstairs, desperately hoping the boards wouldn’t creak. Luckily there was plenty of noise in the kitchen.
“Give your dad some more potatoes, Molly,” Aunty Rose was saying. “He’s worn out after digging those defence trenches.”
“Where are the trenches?” asked Frank. “Can we play in them?”
“Up under the wood,” said Uncle Bert. “Just above Neaves Lane.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” said Aunty Rose. “I saw Mrs Chantrey today. She’s going up to Scotland to stay with her daughter. She says she can’t bear the sound of the planes every night and she’s too old to be spending the night in shelters. They’re not getting any air raids up where her daughter lives, she says.”
“Lucky them,” said Uncle Bert.
“She’s going to give me the keys to her cottage,” said Aunty Rose. “She’s got tenants moving in, but not for a couple of weeks, so I said I’d water her plants and send on her post in the meantime.”
Uncle Bert tutted. “Haven’t you got enough to do, with all the WVS and WI things you’re taking on? This house is like a jam factory at the moment. I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
The children laughed. Uncle Bert loved to grumble, but he didn’t mean any of it.
“Weren’t you in the Dog and Duck with Jack Hawkins last night?” said Aunty Rose. “Mrs Chantrey told me she found him asleep in the ditch outside her house this morning, with his bicycle on top of him.”
Frank went off into peals of laughter. “Asleep in the ditch! Why was he asleep in the ditch?”
Uncle Bert chuckled. “He did get a bit merry, but I didn’t know he was that far gone.”
“Didn’t turn up for milking, apparently. Mr Parris had to send William out to find him. Jack told Mrs Chantrey it was the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.”
As they laughed and chatted, I tiptoed down the last few stairs and into the porch. I inched the front door open and slipped outside.
The farmyard was bathed in late afternoon golden light. The farm workers were all out haymaking in the fields. The sounds of the army camp drifted across from the Park. A pig grunted in its sty. I made my way across the yard and, holding my breath, inched through the narrow gap in the barn wall.
I stood still and listened.
There was no sound from the loft. Assuming the man hadn’t moved, he would be directly above me right now. With a gun by his side.
That was a horrible thought. I tried to put it out of my mind and concentrate instead on deciding where to sit for the next two hours.
There was an upturned bucket a couple of metres away. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable seat, but it might be better than the dirt floor.
The loft was completely silent. Maybe he had been telling the truth when he said he was going to sleep. I wished I could hear snoring, so I could be sure. It was even more frightening than I’d expected, sitting in the gloom with an armed Nazi spy on a wooden platform directly above me. My heart thumped and my palms were sweating. I was terrified I would accidentally make a sound and give myself away.
I forced my mind to concentrate on finding a solution to the terrible situation we were in. A solution where Uncle Bert wouldn’t get into trouble and the man wouldn’t be able to give away his secrets.
Suddenly my eyes opened wide and my heart started racing.
There was a solution.
But did I have the courage to do what it would take?
It took a while to slow down my racing mind and start to think properly. But when I did, I realised that what I’d thought was a hideous mess was actually an incredible opportunity. Finally I had the chance to really help the war effort. And if I didn’t take this chance then I would be betraying everybody I loved.
A huge snort came from the loft. I jumped in shock, biting my tongue with the effort of stifling a shriek. The snort was followed by a grunt and a noisy rustling. Clearly the man had been asleep, and clearly he was now waking up.
My heart was thumping. What if he climbed down and found me?
I remembered his swollen ankle. But what if he was really determined to get away? After all, he had managed to climb up using only one leg.
Various disgusting nasal noises came from the loft.
The church clock struck seven. Frank would be here any minute. I didn’t like the thought of leaving him alone with the man, especially now he was awake.
A shadow fell across the barn floor. My stomach turned over. But it was only Frank, climbing through the gap. Through a series of complicated hand signals, I managed to communicate that he should leave the barn and that I would come out too because I wanted to talk to him.
We tiptoed across the yard and into the cowshed.
“He’s just woken up,” I whispered. “I’ll stay with you. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
Frank shook his head. “You have to go back. Mum’s going to come to your room to see how you’re feeling. She was going to go in when she came to say goodnight to me, but I told her I’d just gone in and you were asleep. But she’ll come and check on you soon, so you have to be there.”
“What about Molly? She could come out.”
“Mum’s got her scrubbing potatoes and washing the eggs. I’ll be fine, honest. I’m not scared or anything. I want to do it.”
I looked at him. He seemed very determined.
“All right. But if you’re scared by anything he says or does, or if he mends the machine and starts talking or using code or anything, you must come and get me straightaway, all right?”
“I will. Was he trying to fix the transmitter while you were there?”
“No. He only woke up a few minutes ago. That’s why I think he might start working on it now.”
“I wonder if he’s got a torch,” said Frank.
That was a very good question. If he didn’t have a torch, he wouldn’t be able to work on his machine once it got dark.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t.”
“You’d better go and get into bed,” said Frank.
“Good luck. Come and tell me about it when you get back.”
Molly would take over at eight o’clock. Then I would take over from Molly at ten. And I would bring a loaded shotgun with me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Be Ready to Help the Military In Any Way”
If the Invader Comes
“He asked me to bring him a battery for his torch,” whispered Molly. “Can you believe the cheek of it? Obviously I told him we didn’t have any spares. And that’s not even a lie. They haven’t had them in the shop for weeks. Then he asked if he could borrow mine! I said Mum and Dad would go mad if the torch was missing, so I couldn’t risk it.”
She had come to wake me at five past ten. Not that I had been asleep. You don’t fall asleep when you’re planning to kill a man in three hours’ time.
Those three hours had been the longest of my life. I don’t know how I endured them. I tried to block out all thoughts by filling my head with other things: poems we’d learned in school; times tables; capital cities; anything to keep the terror away.
Molly was sitting on the edge of my bed, whispering excitedly in the darkness. I barely heard a word she said. An ice-cold fog of dread enveloped me.
What would happen to me after I’d killed him?
I wouldn’t be hanged, would I? Surely they didn’t hang children in England? Besides, I was killing a Nazi. The English wouldn’t hang a person who killed a Nazi. Would they?
“Anna? Are you listening?”
“No, I… What did you say?”
“Why are your teeth chattering? It’s not cold.” She felt my forehead. “You’re freezing. Are you sick?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“Well, put your jumper on. You might be cold sitting in the barn for two hours.”
“I’m fine, honestly.” I tried to clamp my jaws together to stop my teeth chattering. It didn’t work.
“I was saying I think he’s trying to get his transmitter working. I heard him fiddling with something after he thought I’d left the barn. Then his torch battery ran out, thank goodness, and he cursed and swore like anything. Well, it was in German, but it definitely sounded like swearing. Then he went quiet, so I think he’s gone back to sleep.”
I stood up. “I must go.”
“Good luck. See you in two hours.”
I felt so sick that I had to hold on to the doorframe to steady myself. When would Molly see me next? After I’d been arrested for murder?
Gripping the doorframe, I forced myself to take deep breaths.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Molly sounded worried. “Do you want me to do the shift instead?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said again. Then I left the room and tiptoed downstairs, leaning on the banister to let it take as much of my weight as possible so the bare boards didn’t creak beneath my feet.
In the dark kitchen, I felt my way to the drawer where Aunty Rose kept the matches. I struck one, holding my breath in fear that the sound would wake somebody.
All was silent.
I lit the candle that stood in an enamel saucer on the cupboard. In the shadowy light, I gingerly placed a chair in front of the dresser. Standing on the chair, I swept my hand along the top of the dresser until it touched a key. Then I stepped off the chair and unlocked the tall narrow cupboard where Uncle Bert kept his gun, loaded and ready to shoot invading Germans. I clasped the cold metal barrel, lifted the gun out and closed the cupboard door.
I had never touched a gun before. It was horrible.
Creak.
It came from upstairs. I stood rigid, clutching the gun. My heart thumped so hard that it felt as though it might burst through my ribcage.
Silence. It must have been someone turning over in their sleep.
I locked the cupboard and replaced the key. Then I opened the back door.
It was brighter outside than I’d expected. The night was cloudless and the sky was full of stars. I felt horribly exposed as I inched my way down the front path and out of the gate.
I would creep into the barn and climb the loft steps as silently as I could. I had to shoot him before he woke up and shot me.
Molly had said it was pitch black in the barn. Once I was inside, I would have to wait until my eyes adjusted to the dark.
Distant voices from the army camp drifted across the fields.
I knew soldiers patrolled the Park perimeter at night. What would I do when the gunshot shattered the silence and the soldiers came running?
Panic rose inside me.
No. I mustn’t think about that. I must just do what I had to do.
I had no idea how to fire a gun. I should at least practise aiming it.
I lifted it to shoulder height and moved my finger towards the trigger.
“Stop right there! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air.”
I jumped and shrieked. The shotgun clattered to the ground.
“Put your hands in the air!”
From the shadows between the buildings strode a soldier, pointing a gun at me. The world spun. My legs dissolved. The ground tilted beneath me. The soldier grabbed my arm.
“What the blazes? You’re just a kid. What the hell are you up to?”
My teeth chattered. I was freezing cold.
Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, the soldier picked up my rifle.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered in a low voice.
“No! Don’t tie me up. Please!”
“Put your hands behind your back.”
I put my hands behind my back, clasping them together as tightly as I could to stop them shaking.
“You don’t sound English,” he said. “Where are you from?”
My stomach clenched. In a flash, I saw how this would look to the soldier. A German with a gun, out in the middle of the night, walking towards an army base. I felt my insides dissolving.
“I’m a refugee.”
“What nationality?”
I felt so sick I could hardly speak. “I’m German,” I whispered. “But I’m not a Nazi. I’m a Jewish refugee. I hate Hitler. I hate him more than anybody.”
With his free hand, the soldier took my wrists in a firm grip and started to lead me out of the farmyard.
“Where are you taking me?” My voice was small and shaky.
“To my commanding officer,” he said. “You’re under arrest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Go Quickly to the Nearest Authority and Give Him the Facts”
If the Invader Comes
I stumbled beside the soldier as he marched me along the lane, up the tree-lined avenue and right to the foot of the broad stone steps that led to the gigantic carved front doors of Ashcombe House. We stopped in front of another soldier with a gun, standing at the foot of the steps.
“Permission to see Colonel Ferguson,” said the soldier with me. “I have a suspect for interrogation.”
Interrogation?
Images flashed through my mind. Storm troopers in jackboots, kicking old men in the street. Rifle butts jammed into faces. Windows smashed, doors kicked in. My father returning from Buchenwald, covered in cuts and bruises.
My legs buckled under me. The soldier jerked me upright. He led me along a path that ran around the side of the house to another entrance. Another armed soldier stood on guard in front of the door.
“Private Willis to see Colonel Ferguson,” said the soldier, still gripping my wrists. “Suspect for interrogation.”
The guard let us into the building. In the corridor stood another soldier. Private Willis explained that he was bringing me to Colonel Ferguson. The soldier led us up a flight of stairs and along corridors until we came to a large landing. Several grand, elaborately carved doors led off the landing. The soldier knocked on one of these.
“Come in,” said a voice from inside the room.
The soldier stepped inside.
“Private Willis requesting to see you, sir,” he said. “He has somebody with him. Says it’s a suspect for interrogation, sir… Yes, sir.”
He stepped back out and gestured for Private Willis to go in. Still clasping my wrists, Private Willis led me into the room.
A broad-shouldered man sat frowning from a leather armchair by the fireplace of the very grand drawing room, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Presumably this was Colonel Ferguson, although he didn’t look at all as I’d imagined an interrogating officer would look. He wore a tweed jacket and corduroy trousers, with tweed slippers on his feet. He held a lit cigarette in one hand and there was a book on his lap. One finger was between the pages of his book, marking his place. The book was called Right Ho, Jeeves.
He glanced at Private Willis and then turned his gaze on me. His frown deepened. He glared at the soldier.
“What the blazes do you think you’re playing at, Willis? Is this meant to be some kind of joke?”
“No, sir,” said Private Willis. “I was on perimeter duty, sir, when I saw this girl crossing the farmyard. She was carrying this shotgun, sir. And she’s German, sir.”
Colonel Ferguson looked intently at me. Then he rose from the armchair, put his book down on a side table and strode to the other end of the room, where a big desk made of polished wood sat on a
patterned rug. On the desk was a telephone, a box of notepaper, a pen, an inkstand and a blotting pad.
The colonel sat down in the chair behind the desk and indicated for me and Private Willis to stand on the other side of it.
“You can let go of her now, Willis. I don’t think she’s going to make a run for it.”
Private Willis let go of my wrists.
“So,” said the colonel, “explain yourself, Willis.”
When he had heard the soldier’s account, Colonel Ferguson turned to me.
“What is your name?”
“Anna Schlesinger.”
“And would you mind telling me, Anna Schlesinger, what exactly you were planning to do with that gun?”
I pictured Uncle Bert going out at night with the shotgun.
“I was going to shoot rabbits,” I said. “To make a stew.”
The colonel raised his eyebrows and gave me a penetrating look. I shifted my gaze to the rug.
“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” he said.
I wished I could tell him the truth. I wished I could leave this horrible situation for the army to sort out. They would arrest the man immediately and I wouldn’t have to have anything more to do with him. But I couldn’t risk Uncle Bert being arrested.
The colonel leaned back in his seat. “I can assure you, Miss Schlesinger, that we will find out the truth sooner or later. You’ll make it easier for everybody if you tell me yourself and don’t waste any more of my time.”
I risked a glance at him. Was he threatening me? I didn’t believe he would hurt me, but there was a war on, and I was a German who had just been caught sneaking out at night with a loaded gun on an estate full of soldiers.
So I would have to tell him some of the truth.
“I was going to shoot a man,” I said.
The colonel’s eyes opened very wide.
Private Willis exclaimed in triumph. “I knew it! An enemy agent! There’s a network of them, sir. They’re everywhere. And they’re using kids, little kids, to deceive us all. Can you believe it, sir? Coming over here to kill our troops in their beds. Little kids.”