My Friend the Enemy

by Dan Smith

  ‘I can get things, too.’ I tried not to sound and look sulky like she’d said. ‘I can get us a rabbit.’

  Mam nodded. ‘That’s true. When you bring one home it’s always a good one.’

  I made a mental note to check my snares when I went out that afternoon. I should have checked them this morning – Dad told me I should never leave them too long – but I’d had a lot on my mind.

  ‘Any letters?’ I asked. ‘Anything from Da’?’

  Mam shook her head and reached over to pat my hand. We ate in silence for a while, then she said, ‘So what have you been doing this morning?’

  ‘Playin’.’

  ‘Not going too far, I hope.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And what exactly do you play?’

  ‘Nowt really. Just . . .’

  Mam gave me one of her looks. Eyebrows raised, chin down.

  ‘We’re making a dam in the burn,’ I said. It probably popped into my head because I’d thought about it earlier, when we’d been in the woods, and I told myself it was only a half-lie. I wasn’t lying about where we were, just about what we were doing. And Mam knew I liked to dam the burn in the woods.

  ‘I thought I told you not to go into them woods.’ Mam looked cross.

  ‘No. You said not to go in the afternoon.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Mam looked unsure. ‘I don’t like you going there. Not after what happened yesterday.’ Then her brow creased. ‘And with that German prob’ly wanderin’ about . . .’ She looked as if she was trying to fix on something right at the back of her mind; something that didn’t want to be remembered.

  Then it came to her. ‘What about your da’s shed?’ she said. ‘Doesn’t your da’ have a place where he keeps all his pheasant things?’

  ‘Aye.’ I tried to keep my face calm. ‘What about it?’ I knew what was coming next.

  ‘Maybe he’s hidin’ there. The German.’

  Dad used to say swans were clever birds. He said they looked all calm and peaceful gliding on water, but if you looked underneath, you’d see feet paddling away like mad. That’s how I felt right then, trying to pretend I wasn’t worried.

  ‘Can’t be,’ I said. I didn’t want Mam to see that underneath I was beginning to panic. Our German wasn’t in the shed – but he wasn’t far away. ‘No one can get in there. It’s all locked up and only I know where the key is.’

  ‘You haven’t been inside?’

  ‘Never,’ I said. ‘It’s me da’s stuff.’

  ‘What if he’s broken in, like?’

  ‘He couldn’t have. Anyway I’ve been near there; the hut’s fine.’

  ‘Still . . . I don’t know about you goin’ all the way out there. I don’t like you bein’ in the woods if—’

  ‘I showed Kim the tyre swing me da’ made for us,’ I said, changing the subject.

  Mam stopped and stared. Then the corners of her mouth turned up into a gentle smile. ‘I remember when he made that,’ she said. ‘Luggin’ that tyre out there so you could swing on it while he was carryin’ on with them birds of his.’ Mam was in the middle of lifting her spoon to her mouth, her hand hanging in the air, and she turned to look out of the window as if she was going to see Dad out there gathering his bits and pieces. It made me look, too, but there was nothing there. Just the garden.

  ‘Are you all right, Mam?’

  She blinked and shook her head ever so slightly, then smiled. It wasn’t a proper smile, though, and I thought she looked very sad. ‘Just thinkin’.’

  ‘He’s comin’ back,’ I said. ‘You’ll see. It’ll all be over soon and he’ll come straight back. I know he will.’

  Mam put her hand on mine and squeezed. ‘You’re a canny lad, Peter. Such a good lad.’ She took her hand away and turned her head so I couldn’t see her. When she spoke again, it sounded as if something had caught in her throat. ‘Simon Jenkins came round earlier. He wanted to know if you were comin’ out. You used to be good pals with him.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘You should call on him this afternoon.’

  ‘I told Kim I’d play with her.’

  ‘You’re very friendly with that lass, aren’t you?’

  ‘She’s nice.’

  ‘It’s good for you to have new friends, but you mustn’t forget about everyone else.’

  The last time I’d played out with Simon Jenkins he’d said something about how we always had more than everyone else and we’d had an argument. It probably didn’t mean much to him, but it did to me. It was bad enough that Trevor Ridley was always talking about my mam and Mr Bennett, I didn’t need to hear it from my friends, too.

  ‘She’s a right little tomboy, I should imagine,’ said Mam.

  ‘You mean Kim?’

  ‘Who else would I be talkin’ about?’

  ‘Aye, I s’pose she is.’

  ‘She even looks like a lad with her short hair. She’d be bonny if she let it grow.’

  ‘She is bonny,’ I said. ‘Anyway, that’s what I like about her; she’s not all girly dresses and frilly socks.’

  ‘Well, just you make sure you stay out of trouble. Come straight home if you see anythin’. And be careful when you’re near the burn. It only takes a—’

  ‘—few inches of water to drown. I know, Mam. I’ll be careful.’

  ‘Course you will, pet.’

  After lunch Mam made me wash the dishes and then she gave me the ration book and sent me down to the village.

  ‘Got your identity card?’ she said.

  I patted my pocket to let her know I had it on me. I was supposed to carry it all the time, just like we were meant to carry our gas masks everywhere, but sometimes I forgot. I’d been stopped before, over on the links, just like they’d stopped Kim that morning when she ran down the hill. One of the soldiers had stepped forward with his bayonet pointed at me and told me to show him my identity card. I don’t know if he thought I was a German spy or that maybe I was leading an invasion, and at first I thought he was just joking, but he was very serious.

  ‘Go on, then,’ Mam said. ‘And then you can go out and play.’

  I ran all the way to the village, because Kim had said she’d meet me on the hill at two o’clock and it was already after one.

  *

  When I came out of the grocer’s, I could see a group of boys at the end of the road, close to the green. They were watching the Home Guard practising, and I knew who it was straight away. Trevor Ridley and his friends.

  I turned and walked away, quickly heading home, but Trevor had seen me, and called out as he ran up behind me with his two friends.

  ‘What you got there, then?’ He poked at the bag in my hands. ‘Rations?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘What d’you need rations for? I thought you got everythin’ you need from his lordship. That’s right, isn’t it?’ Trevor said. ‘Mr Bennett gives your mam whatever she needs.’

  Beside him, Adam Thornhill snickered like an animal, raising his upper lip to show oversized teeth that made me think of horses.

  I ignored them and tried to walk away, but Trevor stepped round to block my path.

  ‘So what you got in there you can’t get from Mr Bennett, eh?’ Trevor grabbed at the bag and, when I tried to pull it away, it ripped, the contents spilling onto the pavement. A small piece of meat wrapped in paper, a bottle of milk which smashed, a few sugar cubes that burst from their wrapping and skittered onto the road.

  I stood and stared at those small white cubes just lying there. I didn’t care too much about the milk, but the sugar cubes meant something. They were the one luxury Mam and I shared, but now they were lying in the road. I wished, just for a second, that I had my satchel with me. I wished I could put my hand into it and pull out that German gun and point it at Trevor Ridley. It might not work, but it would give him the fright of his life, and he’d wish he hadn’t made me mad. But even the thought of it felt so wrong, and I was relieved when I heard Mr Shaw s
houting from across the street.

  The older boys stood their ground as Mr Shaw came closer and stopped on the other side of the road.

  ‘What’re you lads up to?’ he asked.

  ‘Just sayin’ hello to our friend,’ Ridley replied.

  ‘Well, go and say hello to someone your own size,’ Mr Shaw told him.

  ‘What if we don’t want to?’

  ‘You want to watch yoursel’, son, or you’ll be feelin’ the back of my hand.’ Mr Shaw started to come over the road. ‘Now clear off.’

  The boys stayed a second longer, then they made a move, walking back along the pavement as the butcher came to my side.

  ‘You all right, son?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You want to hit ’im next time,’ Mr Shaw said. ‘Get the first clout in. It’s the only way with lads like them. Hit ’em once, canny hard, and they leave you alone. I did the same thing when I was a lad.’

  It was easy for him to say – Dad told me Mr Shaw was strong enough to lift a whole pig onto a hook without any help, so I don’t suppose Trevor Ridley scared him much.

  ‘You sure you’re all right?’ Mr Shaw stooped to look into my face. He lifted a hand to scratch his nose, and I saw he had a small piece of pink mince stuck on one fingernail.

  I nodded again.

  ‘Fine.’ ‘Come on, then, let’s get this lot picked up.’ Mr Shaw crouched to gather up the wrapped meat, and I squatted beside him, collecting the spilt sugar cubes. One or two were broken, but most were intact. I picked up the broken ones anyway, dusted the dirt off them, and put them in the bag.

  Walking along the path on my way home, I saw Kim coming towards me from the hill. The strap of her satchel was across her chest and she was carrying something in her right hand.

  ‘Saw you coming. Where’ve you been?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been waiting.’

  As she came closer, I saw she was holding a long-handled pan. It was white; black in the places where the colour had cracked and come away.

  ‘I was in the village.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, seeing my mood straight away.

  ‘Trevor Ridley. He split the bag and spilt all me rations.’

  ‘You should’ve hit him.’ Kim hefted the pan as if she was going to swing it at someone.

  ‘That’s what Mr Shaw said.’

  She put her arm around my shoulder. ‘So, what rations did you get?’

  ‘Not much. Some meat and sugar, that’s all.’

  ‘Can you take something?’ she said. ‘For Erik? I’ve got a few things – a piece of bread and some vegetables. And this.’ She lifted the pan. ‘You know, for a toilet.’

  ‘Won’t your aunt miss it?’

  ‘Probably not. It was right at the back of the cupboard. Looks like it’s for big stews or something, and we’ve never got enough of anything to need such a big pan. Wasn’t easy to sneak it out, mind.’

  ‘Wonder why it didn’t go for scrap.’

  ‘Maybe she’s saving it for after the war.’

  ‘Don’t think I’d want to eat anything out of it after our German’s used it,’ I said.

  Kim pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. She put her hands to her throat as if she was choking. When I’d stopped laughing, she pointed at the bag. ‘You gonna take something, then?’

  I thought about it, my feelings all muddled. I didn’t want to take anything from Mam, but I couldn’t say no to Kim. She’d already managed to get a few things and it wasn’t fair if I didn’t get anything.

  ‘I s’pose so,’ I said. ‘Maybe some of the sugar, like.’ I took out some of the broken pieces and put them into Kim’s satchel along with the other provisions. ‘I can tell Mam I dropped them.’ And Kim looked so pleased to be getting more things for Erik that I added, ‘Maybe I can get something else tomorrow. I’ll try not to break it this time.’

  Kim waited outside while I took the rations home and explained to Mam what had happened. There was no point in lying about it, because Mr Shaw had seen everything, so I told her what Trevor Ridley and his friends had done.

  ‘I’ll speak to their fathers,’ she said. ‘Nasty little—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I’ll take a belt to ’em meself.’

  ‘Mam, leave it alone.’

  ‘Well, we have to do something, pet. I’ll not have them lads treatin’ you like that. And making a mess of our rations . . . your da’ would give ’em a right hidin’ if he was here.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I told her. ‘I’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Then make sure you do. We can’t lose our rations. You know what your da’ would say? He’d say give the lad a bloody neb and he’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘That’s what everyone says.’

  ‘Because it’s true.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll sort it out meself.’

  Mam looked at me for a long while, squeezing the small parcel of meat in her calloused fingers. They didn’t used to be like that, but now all she ever did was scrub and dig. ‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘Next time it happens, I’ll go to his father and get this sorted out once and for all. Better yet, I’ll grab him when he comes for the pig slops. In the meantime, it’s up to you. How about that?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Good. Well. That’s that, then.’

  *

  Erik actually looked pleased to see us when we arrived. He was awake and sitting up, not so confused and afraid any more. The smell in there was even worse this time, and I noticed there was a dark, damp patch on the soil, close to the base of the tree. It looked like he’d tried to put soil over it, but the ground was hard and dry.

  Kim opened her satchel and took out the food, laying it on a napkin. She put the pan next to Erik and said, ‘Toilet.’ She pointed at the stain on the soil, then at the pan. ‘Toilet.’ Then she put a cloth over the top of it.

  For a second, Erik looked away as if embarrassed, then he held up the water bottle Kim had left for him and tipped it upside down to show us it was empty. ‘Wa-ter.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ Kim took it from him.

  ‘No, don’t leave me . . .’ I started to say, but Kim was already outside, going back to the burn, leaving me alone with Erik.

  For a moment we just looked at each other. I couldn’t help feeling a little afraid. I was alone. In the woods. With a German. I was thinking about scuttling out behind Kim when Erik pointed at me.

  ‘Peter,’ he said.

  I stared.

  ‘Peter,’ he said again.

  ‘Aye.’ I nodded and put a hand on my chest. ‘Peter.’

  ‘Peter. Freund,’ he said.

  ‘Froind? What’s that?’

  Erik put his hands together and wove his fingers as if he were about to pray. ‘Freund.’ He unclasped his fingers, pointed at me, at himself, and said it again. ‘Freund.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said as it dawned on me. ‘You mean friend? We’re friends? I don’t know about that . . .’ I let the idea roll around my head, thinking about how we’d helped him, fed him. ‘Maybe, though. Aye. I s’pose so. In a way. Friends.’

  ‘Friends,’ Erik tested the word. ‘Peter, Erik, friends,’ he said. ‘Friends. Danke.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Then he leant forward and pulled up the left leg of his overalls and, for the first time, I noticed that he had taken off his boot. He rolled down the sock and I saw that the skin was black-and-blue and swollen.

  Erik pointed at it and made a motion with his hands that I didn’t understand, so I shook my head at him. He prodded a finger at his ankle and winced, tightening his eyes. ‘Ah.’ He looked at me and made the motion with his hands once more.

  He could see I still didn’t understand, so he looked around him, feeling the ground behind until he lifted it up and showed me a dry twig. He pointed at his ankle, then took the stick in both hands and snapped it.

  ‘It’s broken?’ I said. ‘You broke your ankle?’ It would explain why he hadn�
�t left the den. He wasn’t just afraid; he couldn’t walk.

  ‘Ja. Bro-ken.’

  Just then, Kim came back in with the water bottle.

  ‘You can bandage a cut,’ I said to her. ‘But can you fix broken bones?’

  *

  The way it turned out, Kim did know something about broken bones. She knew more than I did, anyway.

  ‘We’ll have to make a splint,’ she said.

  ‘How do we do that, like?’

  ‘All we need is some good straight wood to put against his ankle and something to tie it with. It might even be just a sprain.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Cleanin’ a cut and putting on a bandage is one thing, but this is . . . Do you not think he needs a doctor?’

  ‘No.’ Erik said. ‘Doctor, no.’ He was shaking his head and waving his hand, one finger pointing up. ‘No. Doctor, no. Bitte.’

  ‘There he goes again,’ I said.

  ‘He’s frightened,’ Kim argued, ‘and so would I be. You think they’re going to let a doctor treat him? You think Lieutenant Whatshisname is going to let him just walk into the surgery? Or that sergeant?’

  ‘Maybe they would,’ I said. ‘Maybe they’ll make him better and take him somewhere safe. A prison for soldiers. I mean, if it was me da’ what found him, I’m sure he wouldn’t just shoot ’im.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Your dad’s in the army, though, isn’t he?’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Then he’s probably out shooting Germans right now. It’s what they do. But look at him,’ she gestured. ‘He’s so frightened.’

  ‘Me da’ would never shoot someone like that,’ I said. ‘I just know it. He never would.’

  ‘So he would help him, then? I know my brother would.’

  ‘Aye, but . . .’

  ‘Or d’you think he’d turn him over to someone like that sergeant – so he could shoot him?’

  ‘I don’t think Doctor Jacobs would—’

  ‘Doctor, no,’ Erik said. He was shaking his head at us, his eyes wide. ‘Doctor, no. Bitte.’

  ‘See,’ she said. ‘He’s terrified. And I keep thinking about Josh; if it was him sitting in here all scared and dirty and . . . I just feel like we have to help him. Like we have to do whatever we can.’