The Secret Orphan

by Glynis Peters

  September kept her busy with the harvest and their crops gave a higher yield than the previous year. Elenor had promised to hold a small party on the Saturday.

  She pulled the machine to a halt.

  ‘Are you done up there?’ Dottie called to her.

  ‘Yes. Your turn. Where’s Titch?’

  ‘No idea. Last I saw of her was over there,’ Dottie said and pointed towards the tithe barn.

  ‘Right. Time to go find the lazy madam. Have fun!’

  Elenor marched towards where the POWs were finishing the last of the barn repairs. She could see Titch flirting on the edge of the group, bending over with her shirt exposing her cleavage and generally tormenting the men in direct view. To the far side of the farm she caught site of Rose playing with the other children in and out of the woods, and once Elenor was satisfied she was safe, she strode towards Titch.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you would go and fetch the food baskets from the house and bring them here.’

  ‘I’m watchin’ this lot for ya.’

  ‘It’s thoughtful of you, but I’ll do the watching, thanks.’

  ‘Do this, do that.’

  ‘Titch,’ Elenor said with warning in her voice.

  When Titch returned they handed the baskets over to Ron.

  ‘I’ve brought a thank you lunch,’ Elenor said. ‘Titch will help hand it out.’

  The main group mingled around the food basket and the flighty Titch, but the man who’d exchanged words with Rose stood away from them and lit a cigarette.

  ‘For you,’ Elenor said and handed out a slice of cake.

  He took it and nodded his thanks.

  With a good view of the soldiers looking the other way, she took out the piece of paper and pointed to the word.

  ‘Dinkelsbühl,’ he said and took a drag of his cigarette.

  ‘Dinkelsbull?’ Elenor repeated.

  ‘Jah. Dinkelsbühl,’ he said and went to walk away but changed his mind.

  ‘Rose. Mother and Father. Dinkelsbühl. Germany.’

  Elenor felt the cold of fear tingle on the surface of her skin when he gave a sly grin.

  ‘Rose is German. I recognised her parents.’ His voice was low with a hint of menace.

  Bile rose in her gullet and Elenor thought she was going to be sick or faint. He spoke clear English.

  ‘You know them?’ She whispered.

  ‘Jah. I like the cake. I like cigarettes, too,’ he said, and ground the butt of his cigarette into the floor, before flicking his head towards the rest of the group. The soldiers were rounding everyone up.

  Elenor understood his message loud and clear. Her heart pounded in her chest.

  Ron wandered over.

  ‘That was grand, thank you. Did ol’ misery guts give you a hard time? We rarely have trouble from that one, but he’s a bit of a loner and I wonder about him at times. He makes no effort to speak to us, whereas the others will try a bit of English for a fag or writing paper.’

  ‘I think he said thank you in German, and I tried to get him to say apple cake, but like you say, he’s not bothered. Oh, there is one thing, could you ask if I could have the use of him – or another – but preferably him as Rose knows him …’

  Stopping for breath and giving her mind time to find a reason, she walked to the POW group to collect her baskets.

  ‘Only the bathroom needs a whitewash, there’s mould on the wall. My workers are too busy with the harvest.’

  Elenor hoped her voice sounded calm and casual.

  ‘Don’t see why not. They need to keep busy or they’ll be plotting to escape. I’ll ask, and I’ll see if they can’t all come and lend a hand with the stacks. It gets me out in the fresh air, and they don’t give me grief.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll owe you a cake of your own,’ Elenor said and gave a forced grin.

  The following morning Titch ran towards Elenor through the vegetable plots and into the hayfield waving a towel.

  ‘The Germans ’ave arrived,’ she yelled at Elenor.

  Not a sound could be heard after her last word was out and she bent to catch her breath. Bodies stood pale faced, and all stared at Elenor.

  ‘Where?’ Elenor asked. ‘Where have they landed?’

  ‘In the yard. That nice officer ’as brought them to ’elp. ’E said old misery guts is ’ere to paint,’ Titch said and stared at everyone looking at her open-mouthed.

  Everyone burst out laughing leaving Titch with a puzzled look on her face.

  ‘Think about what you just did and said, Titch. Scared the living daylights out of us all. The Germans have arrived – where? In the yard.’ Elenor could hardly speak for laughing.

  Susie came running towards them.

  ‘Your painter has arrived. I haven’t got to stay home with him, have I? He gives me the willies,’ she said to Elenor.

  ‘You take over the barn from me, and I’ll do my accounts while he whitewashes the bathroom, that black mould, you know,’ Elenor said.

  ‘I’ll stay with him if you have things to do,’ Titch volunteered.

  ‘You just stay with Dottie and get on with today’s work,’ Elenor said. ‘If I need you, I’ll call.

  Susie and Elenor linked arms as they strode through the fields and back to the yard. Elenor greeted Ron heading the group.

  ‘Morning. Titch said the Germans had arrived and gave that lot up there the scare of their lives, poor things,’ she said and pointed to her helpers.

  ‘She frightened the heck out of me. We’re used to these fellas being called POWs, not Germans,’ Susie said and giggled.

  ‘Na, Susie, us Brits will take care of ya, gal,’ Ron said and gave Susie a wink.

  ‘I think you are in more danger from this one than that lot put together,’ Elenor quipped.

  The prisoner responsible for her sleepless night stared over at her, and Elenor’s stomach churned.

  ‘Is my painter to be watched by one of you, or are you happy enough for me to watch over him?’ she asked Ron.

  ‘Old misery has been allocated for the job, like you say, he’s been in your house, if you’re happy enough, I’ll be out here. Keep a shovel ’andy just in case,’ Ron said and laughed at what he considered was a joke. What he didn’t know was Elenor and the girls had secreted a few pieces of wood around the home in case they ever needed to defend themselves.

  Once inside the house, Elenor wasted no time. ‘Sit,’ she said in a firm voice and pointed to a chair.

  She handed him a cup of tea and pulled out a chair for herself.

  He obliged and stared out of the window, then back at her.

  ‘Where is the German child?’ he asked and took a sip of his tea.

  Preparing herself that morning, she decided not to play into his hands and be intimidated by him. She had to be in control.

  ‘She’s English. Her parents are English – were English.’

  ‘You have proof?’ he asked.

  ‘I do, and it is not your business. She learned your language through her father and made the mistake of using it during a dangerous time in our lives. And you are sly, pretending not to speak English.’

  ‘It is war. War is not always about guns and bombs,’ he said. ‘She is the child of the people in the photograph which means she is German blood.’

  He took another sip. Elenor pushed a slice of carrot cake his way.

  ‘She is the daughter of George and Victoria Sherbourne. Of England,’ Elenor said.

  ‘Nein. She is the daughter of Ernst Huber, and Frieda Meier. I know this because I have worked with them. They are spies for Germany.’

  Elenor knew she’d gone pale. She felt the blood rush from her face and body when dizziness took over. She gripped onto the edge of the table. He’d said the two names written on the white paper, the names she’d suspected were the true ones of Victoria and George. With no English papers and with someone able to prove they were German, Rose would almost certainly be taken from her and sent to Germany.

  ‘The
name I showed you yesterday, what is that?’

  ‘Dinkelsbühl? That is the village they probably come from, we never know where our spies live. They might have been born here. We just help them move around. Protect them during missions. The child must be a complication for them.’

  ‘A complication for me; they are dead. If what you say is true, she is illegitimate and German. What would happen to her in Germany if she was sent back?’ Elenor asked.

  ‘She is of good stock, but without family, who knows? Maybe she will be given to one of the Gestapo families and brought up a pure blood. Maybe she will not be so lucky.’

  ‘She is a child, and I love her. Do you have children – a daughter?’ Elenor asked.

  Leaning back in his chair he stared at her, but not in an unkind way and Elenor knew she’d hit a nerve.

  ‘Could your daughter be in the same position? Are your family still alive?’ She persisted, and when he sat upright, she knew she’d broken through a hostile barrier.

  ‘I like cake and cigarettes,’ he said.

  ‘I have cake, I’ll get you some. Cigarettes will have to wait. But don’t think you can bribe me. Rose needs protection, it should come from both sides. Did you know her parents well? I lived with them for many years and they never loved her. I didn’t know he taught her languages. It occurs to me now, he was probably grooming her to become a spy,’ Elenor said.

  She slapped her hands on the table with temper and made the German jump. He was as nervous as she was, and it gave her a bit more strength.

  ‘Listen, I’ll cut more cake. You go and paint a bit on the wall, so they can smell you’ve been working, and we’ll talk this through. We cannot be enemies over children. Your child would be cared for by a British soldier, I can assure you,’ she said with a firm voice, willing him to understand her dilemma. ‘If, as you say, Rose is of German blood, we must keep quiet and protect her.’

  He rose to his feet and said nothing.

  ‘My name is Elenor. What is your name?’ Elenor asked. She felt if she could ease the tension between them she might defuse the situation.

  Chapter 45

  Fritz? Really, his name was Fritz?

  Elenor had heard bawdy jokes from some of the soldiers, and ninety per cent of the time the butt of the joke was always a German named Fritz.

  A hand slam knock on the back door summoned the POW to re-join his gang. Their conversation during the day had moved around the topic of Rose smoother than a pair of professional dancers performing a waltz. It frustrated Elenor that he would not accept Rose could hide under her care as an English child, and she curbed her temper on more than one occasion. She learned he had one child, and she was the image of her mother –whatever that might be – and she was the same age as Rose.

  ‘We’ll discuss this more tomorrow,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I like the cake and cigarettes,’ he replied and threw her one of his sly grins.

  The hairs on her neck rose. Was he playing games, or did he want to help?

  ‘He’s all yours. Mind, he’d best return to clear up his mess tomorrow, lazy swine. What’s got into him?’ she said to Ron.

  ‘Unusual, he’s normally tidy. We’ll be back, got a three-day allocation for Tre Lodhen.’ Ron winked, and Elenor knew he’d pushed for the job so he could see Susie.

  ‘Thanks. It helps take the pressure off my team. See you tomorrow.’

  Elenor waved off the group just as Rose ran through the gate. She ran straight into Elenor’s arms.

  ‘I missed you,’ she said and then ran off to say the same to Seth.

  Bemused, and with a heart full of love for Rose, Elenor watched her run free and happy around the yard. Her throat constricted with emotion at the thought of the child being taken from her and shipped off to Germany or held in a camp for illegals. She thought back to Victoria’s attitude in Coventry and wondered if George had raped her. Two spies trapped into parenthood.

  ‘Well, good riddance to you both,’ she said and stomped into the kitchen. She thought about the solicitor and her adoption request. All seemed hopeless – she needed to get away, to run from her problems, to have the life of a young woman and not be burdened with the troubles brought to her door.

  But you love the girl. Protect her as I should have protected you. Don’t go to your grave with regrets like me.

  Her aunt’s voice couldn’t have been any clearer in her head than if she stood in front of Elenor.

  You’re hearing voices now, Elenor Cardew. Crazy woman.

  A commotion at the back door gained her attention, and Rose dragged Seth into the kitchen.

  ‘He tried to get in the chicken run and cut his paw,’ she cried.

  Elenor looked at the blood dripping from the dog’s foot.

  ‘Serves him ruddy well right,’ she snapped, and in an instant regretted her words. It was neither the dog’s nor Rose’s fault she was in such a bad mood.

  ‘I’m teasing.’ She ruffled Rose’s hair and felt guilty when she looked at her crestfallen face.

  ‘He’s a dummkopf,’ Rose said, and Elenor knew she was taking advantage of the curse word she’d used in her grumpy response. However, the word Rose used shook Elenor to the core, and she could not allow it to go unnoticed.

  With one movement Elenor turned and knelt down in front of Rose.

  ‘Never. Never say that,’ she whispered with urgency in her voice.

  ‘Do you know what it means then?’ Rose challenged but had a cockiness to her tone.

  ‘I don’t care. It is not English. What have I told you about speaking nothing but English? It is too dangerous for people to speak German in public. Please tell me you haven’t spoken it at school,’ Elenor said and felt the familiar rise of bile rise into her gullet.

  ‘Of course not. They wouldn’t understand what I said,’ Rose said with indignation. ‘Besides, you told me never to speak it again. It just slipped out ’cos Daddy called me it once, and I liked the sound of it, and Seth is one.’

  ‘I take it he is a silly billy,’ Elenor said, trying to steer Rose away from the German version.

  ‘Yes, a silly billy. That’s what you are, Seth,’ Rose ruffled the dog’s ears.

  Once Seth had his paw bathed, Elenor and Rose took a walk to the refurbished tithe barn.

  ‘What will we keep in there?’ Rose asked.

  It touched Elenor how she’d used the word ‘we’.

  ‘I’m thinking the tractor. It will free up the main barn for the thresher and the other equipment we’ve inherited.’

  Rose kicked at a stone and wandered inside the barn; Elenor followed.

  ‘Before we do that, can we hold the harvest party in here? Make it a bigger party where we can run and dance.’

  Rose ran around the barn waving her arms and skipping. Laughing, Elenor joined in with her and they spent two or three minutes playing the fool, all thoughts of war forgotten.

  Stopping for breath, Elenor stopped and watched Rose enjoying herself and decided the barn party would be a good idea. During the renovations she’d had an electricity supply run through and also upgraded Tom’s cottage.

  ‘We could use a few hay bales for seats,’ Rose said and clapped her hands. ‘It will need sweeping out, but I’ll help.’

  Elenor chuckled.

  ‘It will be clean in no time with your help. I think it will need all hands on deck but what fun we’ll have.’

  Rose’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto Susie, Dottie and Titch during their evening meal, and Elenor left them making plans for the party whilst she went to her desk to complete government forms for the month. The last of the evening sun dropped over the hills and filtered into the room – winter was only a few days away. Late summer could say it gave a good fight until the end. Elenor pulled off her headscarf and shook her hair free. She rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan, grateful she could make the most of the warmth. It would make the logs last longer. Never shirking from chopping her fair share, her hands suffered. They sh
owed signs of hard work. Blistered and splintered, they were no longer the soft ones of Coventry, and with her creams long gone Elenor accepted they were the hands of a farmer and not of a young socialite. Humming the song she considered hers and Jackson’s, she pulled out a sheet of paper.

  Tre Lodhen

  September 1941

  My dearest Jackson,

  I hope this finds you well and not too tired. I miss you. Days pass us by but each one carries a prayer for your safety. We’ve had quiet times when I’ve wondered if the war has ended, but then along comes an incendiary or gunfire to remind us we are still knee deep.

  Harvest is making headway. Dottie is a dream, but I despair with Titch. Still, another pair of hands is better than none, even if I have to hunt her out from sleeping on the job each day.

  Rose is organising the harvest supper and combining it with a birthday celebration for me. She’s doing well, and I cannot imagine life without her. On dark days she is my sunlight. She has drawn you a picture of the sheep, Tom and Dottie. I think you can guess who is who.

  I look forward to seeing you again and enjoying a moment in your arms.

  Take care,

  With love,

  Elenor.

  x

  She licked the envelope and sealed it, just as she heard giggling from the kitchen.

  ‘Are you up to no good out there?’ she called out and stood to pull the blinds closed. ‘Time to turn out the lights.’

  ‘Really? A little forward don’t you think ma’am?’

  Laughter from her friends, Rose, and Jackson filled the room. Elenor turned around in amazement. She stared at the smiling faces. With her arms open wide she went to Jackson, and the girls ushered a giggling Rose upstairs to bed with promises of hot cocoa and bedtime stories.

  Elenor flung her arms around Jackson’s neck and he held her tight in his.

  ‘How long have you been here? I must have summoned you with the letter I’ve just written you,’ she said, breathless with excitement.

  ‘I snuck in without Seth hearing me, and Susie saw me at the window. I stood here and watched you write,’ he said as he ran his fingers through her hair. ‘When you shook your hair loose I wanted to do this, but I couldn’t disturb the memory I want to take with me. You fly with me, Elenor.’