by Dan Smith
‘He just stabbed right in here,’ Kim said. ‘He just stabbed away without knowing who was in here. It could have been anyone.’
And that’s what was bothering me. Her words described exactly what I was feeling. The sergeant had thrust his bayonet into the undergrowth without knowing what might have been in here. He gave no thought to the fact that children might be playing in the woods, hiding because they were afraid. But, most importantly, Sergeant Wilkes had thrust his bayonet in here because he thought there might be a German soldier hiding inside. And it confirmed for me what I had doubted all along. The soldiers meant to kill Erik. They meant to catch him and kill him.
The whole world had turned upside down – it was the British soldiers who terrified us now, not the Germans.
I looked at Erik, his injured ankle with the home-made splint, his bandaged arm, and his torn flight overalls. I watched the way he carefully wiped the blood from Kim’s calf and took the Dettol from her satchel to disinfect her wound. I watched him do those things and I wondered how someone could kill him in cold blood. He wasn’t bad.
Kim was braver than I would have been. I could see that she was scared and hurt, but she didn’t cry. Not a single tear escaped her eyes. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, but she didn’t cry.
‘I don’t think they saw the gun,’ I said.
‘They were looking for a man,’ Kim replied, wincing as Erik poured some of the Dettol on to the cloth and dabbed at her wound. ‘But you’ll have to move it. Hide it better.’
‘I will,’ I said. ‘Right now.’
I crawled out quietly, afraid that the soldiers would come back, but there was no sign of them anywhere. They were long gone.
I went to the shed and collected the broken padlock before going inside. It didn’t seem as if the soldiers had moved anything. As Kim said, they were looking for a man, not for something as small as a gun. I made myself calm down and went into the shed, taking the gun in one hand and opening the toolbox with the other. I lifted out some of the tools and put the gun inside, before replacing them. I couldn’t imagine any reason why the soldiers would look for a German inside a toolbox. The gun would be safe there.
With that done, I hung the padlock back on the clasp and positioned it so it looked as if it the shed was still locked. It didn’t occur to me that if the same soldiers came back, they’d think it strange that the lock had found its way back onto the door.
When I returned to the den, the cut on Kim’s leg had more or less stopped bleeding, so Erik tied the cloth around her calf and sat back.
‘Thank you,’ she said to him.
Erik smiled and nodded once, but the smile fell away quickly and he looked at the ground between his feet as if he were ashamed of something. And I knew exactly what was wrong. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have had to lie and steal. And Kim wouldn’t have been hurt.
Erik thought it was all his fault.
SNAP
After lunch, I went out and sat on the top of the hill to watch for Kim. The wreck was still down there, its tail section sticking up in the air, displaying the crooked cross they called a swastika. Two soldiers were still guarding it. Maybe one of them was the one who had stuck his bayonet into our hiding place. I picked up my stick and held it like a rifle, aiming down at the soldiers and sniping them where they stood, making shooting noises to myself.
When I was certain they were well and truly sniped, I turned round so I was looking back towards the village, and I strained my eyes for any sign of Kim, but there was none.
I stayed prone, lying on my stomach with my arms folded in front of me, and I rested my chin on my forearm. The day had warmed up since the drizzle this morning. The sky had cleared and the sun was out. It was warm, with a cool breeze coming over the sea, wafting up towards me. It carried the smell of salt and seaweed.
The village looked small from here. Just a few houses with a high street that had a couple of shops and a pub. Beyond that, the links was a hotchpotch of green where the grass grew long and tough, and brown where the sand lay. There were two pillboxes on the links now, one at each end of the bay, like punctuation marks. They were grey concrete hexagons with slits on each side so the soldiers could point their heavy machine guns in any direction. I tried to remember what the bay had looked like without them, but I couldn’t. It was beginning to feel as if they’d always been there, and as if they always would be there, and that made me think about what Mam had said the other night. About the war lasting for ever. I hoped it would be over soon so that Dad could come home and Erik could go back to wherever he had come from and everything would be normal again. Mr Bennett would go back to being Dad’s boss, and . . . and Kim would go home. I didn’t want that. I’d only known her a few days, but already I felt as if she was the best friend I’d ever had.
I waited almost an hour before I decided Kim’s aunt must have kept her in. She was probably angry about the state she’d been in when she got home. I thought about going to call on her, but when I saw figures cross the road and come to the edge of the field in the distance, I decided not to. I knew straight away it was Ridley and his friends, so I pulled back and slipped down the hill, out of sight. I ran to the trees where I found a good spot and climbed into the crook of an oak, to a place where I could see both the top of the hill and the wreck.
I sat quietly, wondering if there was another reason why Kim hadn’t come out. Maybe she’d seen the boys waiting to follow her and had decided to stay in. I probably would have done the same thing.
It was a while before the boys reached the crest of the hill. They made no attempt to hide themselves from the soldiers. Instead, they marched straight down the other side to talk to them. The soldiers didn’t even hold out their rifles or ask for their identity cards, and I thought they must have been there before. The soldiers must have known who they were.
I didn’t stay to watch any more, it made me too angry, so I dropped down from the tree and went to see Erik.
When I crawled into the den, the first thing he said was, ‘Kim?’
‘She’s not comin’.’ I shook my head. ‘Prob’ly in trouble.’
‘Doctor?’ he asked.
‘I s’pose.’
I opened my satchel and took out the food I’d brought for him. ‘I brought this, too,’ I said, showing him some small pieces of scrap paper and the stub of a pencil I’d found in a drawer in the sideboard. I’d been looking for a pack of cards when I had spotted the paper Mam and Dad used for keeping score. ‘So we can write things down or draw pictures. And I thought you might be bored, so I brought some playing cards.’ I knew he couldn’t understand me, but it seemed right to talk to him. I couldn’t very well have said nothing.
He replied by speaking in German.
Erik took the pack of cards and opened it. He split them in half and flicked the ends together, shuffling the cards so they made a mechanical ripping noise when he flicked them. He dealt out a number of cards to each of us and picked up his own, but I shook my head.
‘I don’t know any card games,’ I said. ‘Except for snap. Mam and Da’ tried to teach me some others, like, but I could never remember how.’
Erik shrugged, gathered the cards back together, shuffled them once more, then fanned them out so they were facing the ground and offered them to me.
‘You want me to take one?’ I reached out towards the cards and made a pinching motion.
‘Ja.’ He nodded at the cards.
I took one out and turned it around to show him, but he shook his head saying, ‘Nein.’ He twisted my hand around so the card was facing me again.
‘Don’t show it to you?’ I asked. I pretended to turn the card, then shook my head as he had done, and held it to my chest so he couldn’t see it.
Erik nodded and took the card back. He shuffled the deck again and held them out in the same way.
I picked one and looked at it – the seven of clubs – but this time I didn’t let him see.
Erik then shuffled the rest of the cards, split them and held one half out to me, tapping the top card.
‘Put it back?’ I asked, offering the card towards the pile.
‘Ja.’ He continued to tap until I returned the card to the deck, then he put them all together, shuffled them and fanned through them until he said, ‘Ha!’ and took one out. With a flourish, he slapped it on the ground in front of him.
It was the two of hearts.
‘No.’ I shook my head.
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘Hm,’ he said with a confused look. He fanned through the cards again, shaking his head. Then he shrugged and showed me the cards, gesturing for me to look through them. I looked at each one, but none of them was the seven of clubs.
‘Ah!’ Erik said, holding up his hands. He clicked his fingers and leant forward, reaching behind me. When he brought his hand back, he was holding the seven of clubs.
‘How did you do that, like?’
Erik laughed and reshuffled the cards, showing me the trick all over again, but after a while it wasn’t clever any more, so I taught him how to play snap. He seemed to have played something like it before, and it didn’t take him long to learn. We had a few games, then I watched him eat the bits and pieces I’d brought for him.
‘It must be dead scary,’ I said, making him look up at me. ‘Bein’ stuck in ’ere after that plane crash and the bombings an’ everythin’.’
Erik nodded, but I knew he didn’t have a clue what I was saying.
‘I know I’d be scared. Me da’ would, too, I s’pose. Prob’ly not as much, though.’
Erik tore off a piece of bread with his teeth and washed it down with a swig of water.
‘Kim thinks that if we look after you, then maybe someone will look after me da’ or her brother. Sort of like doin’ a good turn. If something’ happened to ’em, I mean.’
Erik stopped chewing. ‘Bruder?’
‘Hm?’
‘Bruder,’ he said again, then thought hard for a second. ‘Bro-ther.’
‘Brother?’
‘Ja. Peter, Kim, bro-ther?’
And then I understood. ‘No, I’m not Kim’s brother. No. Friends.’
‘Ah. Friend.’ He nodded once, as if that had cleared everything up for him. ‘Erik bro-ther,’ he said, touching his chest.
‘You have a brother?’
‘Ja,’ he said. ‘Bruder.’ He put the water bottle down and stretched out his leg so he could get his hand into the pocket of his flight suit. When it came back out, there was a piece of paper in his fingers. He looked at it with a sad smile and then passed it over to me.
Except it wasn’t a piece of paper, it was a photograph. There wasn’t much background to see apart from the very left edge of a stone house that seemed to have been built in the middle of a field with a wood in the distance. It reminded me a lot of Hawthorn Lodge. In the foreground, Erik and a younger boy were standing with a man in a suit and woman wearing a flower-patterned dress. Erik was wearing some kind of uniform, but the younger boy was dressed in shorts and a shirt, with a sleeveless pullover, knee-length socks and shoes. If it hadn’t been for Erik’s uniform, I would have thought the photograph might have been taken right here in my village.
‘Konrad,’ Erik said, tapping the younger boy. ‘Bro-ther.’
‘That’s your brother?’ I asked. ‘And your mam and da’?’
‘Konrad.’ He tapped the boy once more, then moved his finger first to the man, then the woman, saying, ‘Papa. Mama.’
‘Are they fightin’?’ I asked. ‘Your brother and your da’? Are they fightin’ in the war?’ I pointed at his brother and then held my arms out like I was a plane.
‘Nein. No.’ Then he said something in German but I didn’t understand a word of it. He paused for thought, then patted his chest. ‘Erik,’ he said putting his hand to the top of his head as if he were measuring himself. ‘Konrad.’ He dropped his hand to chest height then pointed at me. ‘Konrad. Peter.’
‘Haven’t got a clue what you’re sayin’.’ I shook my head.
Once again Erik thought hard, then his face lit up and he took the scrap paper I’d brought and wrote something on it in pencil. When he turned it round for me to look at, I could see the numbers ‘14’ and ‘19’.
Erik pointed at the number ‘19’, then at himself.
‘You’re nineteen?’ I said. ‘And your brother is fourteen?’
‘Ja. Bruder. Konrad.’ He tapped the ‘14’ again.
‘He’s like me; too young. I’m twelve.’ I took the pencil and drew the number ‘12’ on the paper and patted my own chest.
Erik smiled. ‘Ja?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Ya. Kim, too.’
He gave me a thumbs-up.
‘And your da’?’ I asked. ‘Your papa?’
‘Papa . . . Papa . . .’ Erik tried to think of a way to tell me. ‘Papa school.’
‘School? Your da’s in school? But that doesn’t . . . oh, you mean he’s a teacher?’
‘Ja. Teacher.’
It was so normal. I hadn’t really given much thought to what Erik’s family might be like – in fact, I hadn’t given much thought to whether he even had one – but now I knew, they just sounded so normal. Not like the posters. Nothing like that at all.
‘I wish me da’ was here,’ I said, passing the photograph back to him. ‘It’s not fair. I miss him so much.’ I put a hand to my mouth and swallowed hard, determined not to let Erik see me upset.
‘War bad,’ Erik said, leaning across to pat my shoulder. ‘War bad.’
‘Aye.’
He sat back and said something in German, making me wish I could talk to him, but all I could do was shrug and shake my head.
Erik took another bite of the bread and held it up. ‘Danke,’ he said. ‘Peter gut. Erik gut. Friends.’
‘Aye,’ I said. ‘Friends.’
When he’d eaten, he showed me that the water bottle was empty by shaking it from side to side. I reached out to take it from him, but he pulled it away and shook his head. ‘Aussen.’
‘What?’
‘Aussen,’ he said again and pointed at himself, then at me, then at the entrance to his prison.
‘Out?’ I said. ‘You wanna go out?’
‘Ja. Out.’
I thought it might be dangerous, especially after the soldiers had been here just that morning, but I supposed they probably wouldn’t come back so soon. Also, I felt sorry for Erik being stuck in the den all the time.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Why not?’
Erik looked taller and bigger when he was outside. He walked much straighter now, although he had a definite limp because of his ankle. He supported himself with his stick, using it like a shepherd’s crook, and he managed very well. Kim had done a good job of patching him up.
Erik was like a soldier returning from the battlefield. He was still wearing the grey flight overall, which must have looked quite smart when it was clean and new, but now it was torn and caked with soil and blood. One leg was rolled up to make room for the splint, and because he didn’t have his boot on, his sock looked very grubby. I’d told Kim that I’d try to get some clothes for him, but I’d avoided it until now. I knew what I’d have to do to get them and I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. Looking at him now, though, I decided I would have to.
We went to the burn and I offered to take the bottle, but Erik wouldn’t let me. He struggled to his knees and filled it himself. And when it was done, he stayed where he was, sitting by the burn, looking up at the trees and the blue sky beyond.
‘Beau-ti-ful,’ he said, taking me by surprise. ‘Beau-tiful,’ he said again, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight fall through the treetops to touch his skin. He let out a deep sigh, then put out his left foot and plunged it into the burn.
‘Ahhh,’ he said. ‘Gut.’
I sat beside him and put my fingers in the water. Despite the warm day, the burn ran almost as cold as ice.
Erik leant over to dip his own fingers into it, flicking the water at my face.
‘What did you do that for?’ I said, wiping it away. ‘That’s freezin’, that is.’
Erik looked at me, his face serious, then a smile cracked across his lips and he started to laugh.
‘Oh, you think that’s funny? Well, how about this?’ I said, flicking water at him from my own fingers.
Erik flicked back, so I cupped my hand in the water and threw it up into his face. It hit him with a splash, showering clear water over his shoulders, into his short cropped hair, and he shut his eyes, the cold shocking him. When he opened his eyes again, he was laughing. A good, happy sound that made everything go away.
There was no war in that moment. There were no enemies. There was no hiding. There was only two people, like brothers, playing in the woods.
We splashed each other in a flurry of water, each of us laughing, until we heard voices. Erik stopped and cocked his head to one side, putting a finger to his lips. ‘Shh.’
I took my hands out of the burn and listened.
Footsteps. Voices.
Someone else was in the woods.
I stared at Erik as if mesmerised, and remembered the soldiers who had broken into Dad’s shed; how Sergeant Wilkes had stabbed his bayonet into the undergrowth, cutting into Kim’s leg.
A twig broke somewhere out in the trees and it was like an alarm breaking the spell. We had to get away. We had to hide.
I shook my head and stood up, offering a hand to Erik. Quickly, I helped him to his feet and supported him as he limped back to our hiding place.
‘Who’s there?’ Sergeant Wilkes’ voice came from among the trees beyond the burn. ‘Come on out.’
It was always him. Whatever happened, the sergeant was always there, as if there were ten of him spread all over the village. Mam would have said he was like a bad penny.
‘We heard you. We know you’re there.’
The sound of his voice coming closer sent shivers along my spine and all I wanted to do was hide, but as I was about to crawl into the den, something occurred to me: Sergeant Wilkes knew someone was here. If I hid with Erik, he would have his men search this place again and again. They would scour it until they found Erik, and they would kill him. The bayonet that had cut Kim was proof of that. And even if they didn’t find him, they would post men in here, or they would keep coming back, and this place wouldn’t be safe any more.