Spies on Bikes

by Dennis Forster

  ‘I don’t want children. I don’t like girls and I’m never going to get married. Hitler doesn’t scare me.’

  ‘Ach, you are so young. Give me the mushrooms and I will let you go.’

  ‘Get off, bully.’

  The German made an easy target. Jack regretted his arrows’ tips were only sharpened wood, not proper arrow heads. Mike had said that arrows fired from English longbows at Agincourt had gone straight through the breastplates of the French knights. What might such an arrow do to lederhosen? Better still, he wished he’d a gun.

  His opportunity to fire came when the German pushed George to the ground.

  When he saw that the arrow he’d fired had stuck in the German’s arm he whooped a war-cry. He’d done right to pick the arrow with the sharpest point. His skill with a penknife had paid off. Mike would be proud of him.

  George saw the arrow, but, where was the archer?

  Less than six paces from him, what looked like a ‘bush’, was waving a bow at him. His rescuer was not only a good shot with a bow and arrow, he was also expert in the art of camouflage.

  Without further bidding he followed his rescuer through a chicane of rhododendron and azalea. His limp slowed him down. He could not hurdle fallen tree trunks the way the ‘bush’ could. He had to climb over them. His deafness stopped him hearing that the German was close behind. Jack, however, was well aware of the danger. Through signs he made it clear to George that they needed to get a move on.

  Once out of sight of the German, they hid behind the trunk of a fallen tree. In this place of temporary safety they shook hands. Then, to George’s amazement, his new friend stood up and walked into the clearing in front of the fallen tree.

  ‘Over here, Fritz!’ shouted Jack. ‘Fritz, I’m here. Come and get me.’

  You’d have thought a threshing machine was making its way through the shrubbery. Boy, was the German angry!

  ‘Over here, Fritz.’

  Jack hoped he was very angry. Angry people did not think straight, they were like, as the English saying said, ‘a bull in a china shop’.

  When they saw each other, Jack gestured that the German should come and get him.

  ‘Come on, Fritz, what are you waiting for?’

  To provoke the German, in the same way ‘Egghead’ had provoked him in their silly game, he shouted in German, ‘Hitler is a piece of shit’. When the German took the bait and charged, he pretended to flee.

  As soon as he heard the German fall into the pit he’d dug he ran back, whooping all the way.

  The German was arse up in the pit. For weeks he’d tried to get Egghead and Mike to walk over its flimsy roof of twigs and leaves but they knew his game.

  With his bow pulled back as far as he could manage he aimed at one of the German’s fleshy thighs.

  ‘Das ist fur mein mudda.’

  ‘Have you killed him?’ said George.

  ‘Nein. The pit is not deep. He will soon be out.’

  24

  George thought the den ‘smashing’. He’d a memory of the hunt losing a fox near this outcrop of rock. Maybe this had been its den. Enough light entered to make out jam jars on a rock shelf. When something moved he jumped.

  ‘That’s Moses,’ said Jack.

  ‘Does he bite?’ said George.

  ‘He is my friend. I have told him you are my friend. He will not bite.’

  George found his head touching a ceiling of rock and soil. The roots of plants combed his hair. Jack hung up his bow and quiver of arrows on a root shaped like a hook.

  I am George.’

  ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I … know … who … you … are.’

  ‘Do not shout and do not talk “funny” … talking like that makes it harder for me to understand.’

  ‘I know who you are. You were in the aeroplane, you waved to me. You were with Harry when the horse jumped over the car.’

  ‘You spy on the Germans?’

  ‘Yes. I work for the British Secret Service.’

  ‘Are you the “Fox”?’

  ‘That is what they call me. I am good at camouflage. Do you like my den?’

  ‘Rather!’

  ‘It is my erdgeist lager. You do not know German?’ George shook his head. ‘It is my earth-spirit camp. I share it with my friend Moses … now I will share it with you. Here, I feel safe. I have lemonade and biscuits. We share. The German will tire of looking, I will know when.’ He handed over a pair of binoculars. ‘Mike’s.’

  George focussed on the tents he could see through the fissure. The view was marred by out of focus tufts of grass; nevertheless a chap had a pretty good view.

  ‘My turn now,’ said Jack, taking the binoculars. ‘Fritz is back. He is the German who tried to steal your mushrooms.’

  ‘What did you shout at him? You made him angry.’

  ‘I was giving a red rag to the bull and pulling the tiger’s tail.’

  ‘You were lucky he didn’t catch you.’

  ‘Not getting caught was part of my plan.’

  ‘What did you shout at him?’

  ‘“Hitler is a piece of shit”.’

  ‘He shouldn’t have stolen my mushrooms. I’m glad you upset him. You know the names of all the Germans?’

  ‘I know Heinrich. I know Fritz. I know Gunther. They are the leaders. They are up to something, I know. We are safe. I am sorry I do not have tea. I am learning your English ways. Punch me in the tummy … go on.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To show you I am tough. Go on, I’m ready. The secret is to be ready.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘If you don’t want to I won’t make you. Do you know how babies are made?’

  ‘One of the boys at school showed me a book.’

  ‘Did it have pictures?’

  ‘Well … drawings.’

  ‘I’ve seen a book like that. Do you think it’s true?’

  ‘If it’s in a book it must be true.’

  ‘You have not lived in Nazi Germany. The books the Nazis write are full of lies. Do you like jokes? I do. Please sit. I will pretend to be Bert. “Would sir like his lemonade fizzy? Would sir like a biscuit?” Moses wants one, don’t you Moses? Moses is a greedy ferret.’

  ‘Grandfather likes jokes.’

  ‘I call your grandfather Egghead.’

  ‘So do I … behind his back. When I was younger and would not eat my breakfast boiled egg he’d put a handkerchief over his face so all I could see of him was the top of his baldhead. “I’m an egg,” he’d say. “If you don’t eat me, I’ll cry”.’

  ‘I like very much your grandfather.’

  ‘Do you have grandparents?’

  ‘They are dead.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I remember one grandfather. He told me the same story many times. Mama called him “The Gramophone Record”. She would say, “Father, Jacob has heard that before.” It did not stop him. Once he was wound up he went on and on.’

  ‘Is your real name Jacob?’

  ‘Jack is my English name. It is my disguise to keep me safe. I feel safe when I think I am English. Jack is a good English name.’

  ‘When I think about it, I suppose Egghead’s a bit of a record player. Every birthday he asks me, “Who are your heroes?” He says it is his way of finding out the kind of person I am. This year I told him, Charlie Chaplin. My answer must have pleased him because he gave me half-a-crown.’

  ‘If I told him my hero was Adolf Hitler, he would think me not a nice people?’

  ‘Not a nice “person”.’

  ‘I will not again make that mistake.’

  ‘I wish I could speak German.’

  ‘You do not get the practice. I speak French and German because until I was nine we
lived in Alsace. My Italian is good because of holidays with Uncle Solomon in Verona. You English think everyone should speak English. You are not part of Europe. You have your Empire. You have webbed feet.’

  ‘We do not.’

  ‘A joke … a Swiss friend told me it rains so much in England the English have webbed feet. I have been reading Darwin. I think, maybe, you have adapted to your climate … like the lizards that eat seaweed. You are not offended?’

  ‘I think it is funny. I will tell Grandfather. It will make him laugh.’

  ‘He will give you another half-a-crown? I will tell you the truth. If I was English I would not bother to speak another language. But I am not. I am Jewish. We are a people without a home. We are the Diaspora.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘You do not know? Now, I am teaching you English. That is funny. My head is swelling. It means we are a scattered people. There are Jews all over the world. We survive because we have learnt to adapt. In France we speak French. In Germany we speak German. In the synagogue we speak Hebrew. Uncle Solomon speaks Hindi. He translates for the English and makes lots of money.’

  ‘You are like the chameleon who can change his colour.’

  ‘That is why I am good at camouflage … but I am still a Jew. I am proud to be a Jew.’

  ‘I am a Northumbrian … would you eat a bacon sandwich?’

  ‘I answered that question on Reichskristallnacht. That is another word you do not know, yes? In English … “Crystal Night”. It was the night the Nazis killed Papa and Mama … the night the Nazis’ hatred of us Jews exploded. The night they attacked all things Jewish. All over Germany our synagogues were looted and burned. They broke the window of any shop belonging to a Jew. The pavements were covered with broken glass. I do not think broken glass looks like crystal. Thugs make up nice names for their crimes.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘When they came to our apartment Papa told me to go upstairs to the attic. His last words to me were, “Get out onto the roof. If they get you they will kill you. Jacob, go! I love you”.’

  ‘What an adventure.’

  ‘You do not understand … it was not an adventure.’

  ‘Were you not frightened you might fall off the roof?’

  ‘I was more frightened of been captured by the Nazis. You English are fond of your fox hunting. I have watched the men in red coats many times. Mike has told me about them. It makes me feel sorry for the fox. I know what it is like to be the fox. To escape I took great risks. I jumped between buildings. In the streets below, I saw Jews being kicked to death. Fires were everywhere. They were burning our sacred books. My ladders down were drainpipes. I did not know where to go. I was like the fox caught out in the open. Which way to run? It doesn’t know. That’s when I bought a bratwurst. If that is something else you do not know I tell you it is a German sausage full of pig meat. I made a big show of eating it. It was my camouflage. The SS men who passed me ruffled my hair and laughed. “He’s not what we’re after. No Jew would eat a good German bratwurst”.’

  ‘The Nazis are not your heroes?’

  ‘That is irony, ja? I like the English irony. It is like Papa’s jokes. If Egghead asks me who my heroes are I will say, Moses and Julius Caesar. You are thinking, Moses I can understand but why Caesar? I will tell you. When he was captured by pirates he told them he would fetch a good ransom, that he was worth more to them alive than dead. His ransom was paid. In Rome he raised an army, went back to the pirates’ camp and killed them. I will show the Nazis no mercy. The bratwurst saved my life. To stay alive I will eat anything. A dead Jew can’t kill Nazis.’

  ‘In the last war Grandfather ate rat.’

  ‘Biscuits and lemonade are better.’

  ‘Rather!’

  ‘I check on the enemy … they are up to something. I know this because they are Nazis. Nazis are always up to something.’

  They argued.

  ‘Newcastle is a small city.’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘It is not.’

  ‘It is not big like Berlin.’

  ‘We have London.’

  ‘London is a great city.’

  ‘We agree?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We are still friends?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I show you my Erdgeist diary.’

  From a wooden box Jack took out an exercise book.

  ‘I wish I could draw like that,’ said George. ‘I recognise the stag. It is the one Mike has been hunting.’

  ‘One day in my den I watch him for a long time. He did not know I was here. Now that the Nazis are here he will not come, I know. They have chased him away.’

  ‘The way they chased you out of Germany?’

  ‘Yes … before they come I write down and draw all the animals I see. I watch how the pheasants talk to each other. When I grow up I will be a naturalist. Now, I write down all that the Nazis do. Where they go, who is the boss?’

  ‘The Nazi who tried to steal my mushrooms was right, you are a spy. He said they shoot spies.’

  ‘This is not Germany … here they do not have power.’

  ‘Will you make me some camouflage, so I can help you spy on the Germans? I know my limp slows me down, but I can teach you to talk with your hands. We can talk together without making a noise. Real spies use secret signs. This is the sign for toilet. I’m bursting for a piss.’

  ‘You piss in that.’ Jack pointed to a piece of drainpipe. ‘It takes your piss outside, clever?’

  ‘Rather.’

  ‘If you want a shit … that’s the problem.’

  While he was pissing George said, ‘At boarding school a chap has to learn to stick up for himself. That German who tried to steal my mushrooms was a bully. I don’t like bullies. I think he should be taught a lesson. You hate the Nazis?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Now, I hate them. Fritz should not have stolen my mushrooms. That story about Julius Caesar, tell me it again.’

  25

  Sir Charles, Lady Elizabeth, Marigold, Harry, CB and Bert were in Sir Charles’ study. On a silver tray Bert had brought in tea and biscuits.

  ‘Close the door, Bert,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Elizabeth, what are the Americans doing? They must think me awfully bad mannered dashing off the way I did.’

  ‘I told them that something had happened to your gamekeeper … some kind of accident, which, indeed, was all I knew at the time. You were responding to an emergency. As far as I’m aware all of them are having a siesta. The tour of the estate rather tired them. From what I’ve heard they are drunk.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Jack. Mr O’Neil appears to be the only one sober. Such a nice man … not one of those people who want to talk about themselves all the time. He wanted to know all about the area. Where is the nearest golf course? Is there a quick way to walk to the railway station, through the fields, perhaps? He said he just loves our little railway station … said it was “cute”.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Charles, I am not the man’s keeper. Most of the time I don’t know where you are, let alone a guest. Why don’t you ask the Eyes and Ears of The Hall?’

  ‘Jack has been spilling the beans?’

  ‘Don’t talk American. Now, tell me again what happened. You might all have been killed.’

  ‘But we weren’t. Bert, you must join us, I insist, come and sit down … Elizabeth will be mum.’

  ‘So,’ said Lady Elizabeth, uncomfortable at pouring tea for her own butler, ‘Mike was not that badly wounded?’

  ‘He’s safe and well, tucked up in bed in the Cottage Hospital. Crozier’s looking after him. He’s in good hands.’

  ‘Nice Mr Crozier, the nautical surgeon. If he’s as good with flesh
wounds as he was with your haemorrhoids, Charles, you are right, Mike is in good hands.’

  ‘He passed out because he can’t stand the sight of blood,’ said Marigold.

  ‘The man’s a gamekeeper,’ said CB, ‘he must be used to seeing blood.’

  ‘Not his own.’

  ‘I always thought him such a tough fellow as well.’

  ‘He’s still a good man with whom to go to the well … an American expression, CB. If he hadn’t spotted we were being followed I’d be doing be-bops with the angels.’

  ‘Well, I’m so glad you are not doing whatever it was you said with the angels,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘Professor Striker, welcome to The Hall.’ They shook hands. ‘Your unusual arrival has made me forget my manners. Events have robbed me of the opportunity of making you formally welcome. So few of our guests arrive half naked riding a stolen horse bare back.’

  ‘Where is Ginger?’ said CB.

  ‘He is being well looked after,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘What about a ginger snap? Bert, hand round the biscuits. You may dunk if you wish.’

  ‘I don’t want a ginger snap. I want Ginger. You, young lady, gave me quite a fright stealing my horse. In America I believe they shoot horse thieves.’

  ‘In the movies they do.’

  ‘You are a fine horse woman, Professor. I invite you to ride to hounds … but you shouldn’t have stolen Ginger, bad form, that.’

  ‘It was expedient. I saved Mike,’ said Marigold. ‘I thought he’d fainted through loss of blood, not a phobia.’

  ‘You did what a woman should always do, Professor,’ said Lady Elizabeth, ‘you took charge.’

  ‘Call me Marigold.’

  ‘I’m Elizabeth.’

  ‘I have a pal back home in the States called Elizabeth, I call her “Lizzie”. OK if I call you that?’

  ‘How delightfully informal. Yes, call me, Lizzie … I rather like it.’

  ‘You can call me CB,’ said CB; ‘everyone else does. They seem to forget I’m a major.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll still be Harry,’ said Harry.