‘I’ve lost my family thanks to people like him,’ snapped Charlotte. ‘Not just a leg.’ However, not wanting to cause a rift between them, she put on her jacket and followed Billy back to Charing Farm. There she was greeted by Margaret, who gave her a warm hug and said softly, ‘You’re a good girl to come. It can’t be easy for you. He’s in here.’ She led her through the kitchen and into the sitting room. After a brief hesitation Charlotte went in and Margaret softly closed the door behind her.
Charlotte was shocked when she saw the young man lying on the sofa, his legs hidden under a makeshift cage to keep the covers away from them. His skin was ashen, his eyes huge in the pallor of his face. It was obvious that, despite Dr Masters’s best efforts, he was in tremendous pain. He’d opened his eyes to see who had come into the room and as soon as he saw it was a young girl, he’d closed them again.
Charlotte walked over to the bed and looked down at him. ‘Hallo,’ she said in German, ‘I’m Lieselotte, who are you?’
Hearing her speak to him in German his eyes flew open and he stared up at her, trying to focus on her face.
‘Where am I?’ he croaked, his voice hardly audible. ‘Who are you?’
‘You’re... in England.’ Charlotte hesitated, unwilling to give him an exact place. ‘You were shot down. You were bombing us.’
‘Bombing you?’ he sounded confused. ‘But you’re German!’
‘Not any more,’ Charlotte said firmly, and then remembered she had given him her German name; it had slipped out, she realised, because she was speaking to him in German. ‘I’ve changed my name and I live here now.’ She was going to say, ‘Germany didn’t want me,’ but that sounded too dramatic, so she settled for, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Dieter, Dieter Karhausen.’
‘Where do you come from, Dieter?’
‘Cologne.’ He looked up at her with clearer eyes now and asked, ‘Am I going to die?’
Despite herself, Charlotte felt moved. She shook her head. ‘No, not if our doctor, Dr Masters, has anything to do with it. You’re a prisoner of war, but he’s arranging for you to be taken to hospital in Bristol.’
‘Bristol?’
‘That’s if the hospital there is still standing,’ she couldn’t resist saying, ‘after your raid. He says you may lose your leg; it was badly damaged when your plane was shot down, but he thinks you’ll recover.’
‘And my friends? The rest of the crew?’
Charlotte shook her head again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘They were killed in the crash.’ No need to tell him of the grisly end of the rest of the crew, incinerated in the crashed plane. Even so, the news seemed to suck all the energy from him. Dieter closed his eyes again, turning his head away, but not before Charlotte had seen the tears squeezing out from under his lashes. With sudden, unexpected compassion she said, ‘Tell me your address, Dieter, and we’ll try and send word to your parents through the Red Cross. I am sure Major Bellinger will do that for you.’ She was sure of no such thing, but she felt a desperate need to reassure this frightened young man who yet might die of his wounds. ‘I promise we’ll try.’
Dieter, drifting away again now, muttered an address before his head dropped into a sedated sleep. Charlotte repeated it to herself and then very quietly left the room.
Back in the kitchen she passed on what she had learned, including the name and address.
Later, soldiers came to take Dieter Karhausen away. Dr Masters was determined that he must be taken to hospital or he would lose both his legs and might die of subsequent infection.
‘Our orders is to arrest him and take him to a camp,’ insisted the sergeant in charge of those sent to collect him.
‘Then he will die,’ stated Dr Masters. ‘On your conscience be it.’
There was a great deal of talk among those present and finally the sergeant made contact with his commanding officer and put Dr Masters on to explain the situation.
‘This young man is going nowhere if he doesn’t get his legs seen to immediately,’ Dr Masters told him.
Eventually he prevailed and the soldiers who had come to arrest him took him, under armed guard, to hospital in Exeter.
Before she went back to Blackdown House, Charlotte faced Major Bellinger with the promise she’d made to the young airman.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he said, ‘but I can’t guarantee anything.’
33
Charlotte and Clare got off the school bus and walked across the green. Outside the churchyard gate Clare flopped down on a bench and Charlotte, dropping her satchel to the ground, sat down beside her. There was only another week of term to go and both girls were looking forward to the summer holidays. Clare was leaving school and was hoping to get herself a job, working in a shop in Cheddar. Charlotte didn’t know what she was going to do. Miss Edie was keen for her to continue at school so that she could go to college and train as a teacher, but Charlotte was not so sure.
‘It means I have to do at least another year at school,’ she said to Clare. ‘You’ll be out earning your living and I’ll be stuck in doing homework!’
‘Well, I’m glad I’m leaving school,’ Clare admitted, ‘but I’ll still be here in Wynsdown. I want to join the Wrens, but I’m not old enough yet and in the meantime I got to pay my way at the Prynnes.’ She grinned as she added, ‘Malcolm’ll be staying, too. He’s going to work on your Billy’s farm. At least they’ll both be around.’
‘Not sure about Billy,’ Charlotte said. ‘He’s been funny lately. Always off somewhere doing something and he won’t tell me what it is.’
‘I thought you said he was doing a signalling course.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what he said, but he’s always doing Home Guard stuff now.’
‘Well, Home Guard is important,’ Clare pointed out.
‘I know,’ sighed Charlotte, ‘but he’s so secretive. He doesn’t seem to trust me. I’ve hardly seen him lately. He doesn’t seem to have time for me any more.’
It was true, she thought, as she walked home to Blackdown House. Since the night of the raid when the German plane had been shot down, she had seen less and less of Billy. The happiness of the midsummer dance had been destroyed by the German bombers.
Perhaps, she’d thought over the following days, because she’d spoken to the young airman, Dieter Karhausen, and written to his parents as she’d promised, Billy had come to wonder exactly where her loyalties lay. Whatever she’d meant to him up till now, she was still German, still an ‘enemy alien’. Since that morning she had hardly seen him and she missed him and their easy companionship more than she’d have believed possible. On several occasions she had walked over to Charing Farm, but though Margaret had been pleased to see her and she’d helped as she had so often before, feeding the hens and the pigs, Billy had been out and about on the farm, only coming in for the midday meal with the other men.
‘It’s a busy time,’ Margaret said. ‘I hardly see John, what with the farm and the Home Guard.’
Charlotte knew this was true, but on the few occasions she and Billy did go out together with the dogs as they had so often, Charlotte knew that everything was different and she didn’t understand why. It was as if he didn’t want to be alone with her. Was Billy regretting their evening together at the summer dance? Regretting they’d kissed and held each other in the way they had? The thought was very painful – she’d thought he’d been as happy as she was – but if he had regrets, well she, too, would distance herself from that evening. This weekend, she decided, she wouldn’t go over to Charing Farm. She’d stay at home and help Miss Edie in the garden; she’d practise the piano for her coming music exam and she’d put Billy out of her mind.
As she walked up the path to the house, Bessie barked a welcome from the run Billy had made for her in the garden.
‘Quiet, Bess,’ she called as she pushed open the door and went into the kitchen. ‘It’s only me. I’ll let you out in a minute.’
The house seemed strangely silent.
Charlotte called out, ‘I’m home,’ but there was no answering call from Miss Edie. Charlotte glanced out of the window, but Miss Edie wasn’t in the garden tending her vegetable patch.
‘Miss Edie,’ Charlotte called again. Still no reply. Was it one of Miss Edie’s days for helping down in Cheddar? Charlotte wondered. She didn’t think so.
Perhaps she’s gone to the village for something and we missed each other, Charlotte thought. The door was on the latch, so she hasn’t gone far.
She dumped her school bag on to a chair and went out into the hall. Bessie had stopped barking and the house settled back into silence. She went into the sitting room and, opening the piano, sat down and ran her hands over the keys. Her exam pieces were on the music stand and she played each of them through before spending another quarter of an hour on her scales. Since Miss Edie had been giving her lessons, Charlotte had discovered an unsuspected love for the piano and a talent for playing that had surprised and delighted them both.
Finishing her practice, Charlotte went upstairs to the bathroom, but as she reached the landing she came to an abrupt halt, giving a cry of horror. Miss Edie was lying on the floor half in, half out of her bedroom. She lay face down, her arms thrown out in front of her as if she’d tried to save herself. For a moment time stopped, then Charlotte took a step nearer, staring down at the woman who had taken her into her home. Her eyes were open, but her body was still, no sign of breath or life. Tentatively, Charlotte reached out and touched one of Miss Edie’s outflung hands. It was cold.
Slowly she backed away, down the stairs, the chill of disbelief taking hold of her. Miss Edie had been lying, dead, upstairs, while she, Charlotte had been playing the piano. She stood for a moment in the hall, the silence in the house complete, before she turned and ran out of the house. Perhaps I’m wrong, she thought as she raced down the lane to the village, perhaps she’s just unconscious and the doctor can bring her round.
Minutes later she was pounding on Dr Masters’s door. He was about to start evening surgery and opened the door himself.
‘Come quickly,’ Charlotte cried. ‘Come quickly.’
‘Charlotte, my dear girl, whatever has happened?’ he asked as he grabbed his bag from the hall stand.
‘Miss Edie. It’s Miss Edie,’ Charlotte cried. ‘Come quickly.’ She pulled at his hand and together they hurried through the village and up the lane to Blackdown House. From her window Avril Swanson saw them go, saw the wide-eyed panic on Charlotte’s face and immediately went to find her husband.
Entering the house, Charlotte led the way into the hall and pointed to the stairs. ‘Up there,’ she said, the words coming out on a sob. ‘She’s up there.’
Leaving Charlotte in the hall, Dr Masters strode upstairs. One look was enough to assure him that there was nothing he could do for Miss Edie. She lay on the floor, the chill of death all about her. He reached down and felt for a non-existent pulse, then gently closed the staring eyes. She had been dead for several hours.
Probably a massive stroke, he thought, she’d have known nothing about it. He wasn’t surprised. Miss Everard had been to him several times recently, complaining of headaches, and her blood pressure had been too high. He couldn’t actually have predicted the stroke, but it didn’t surprise him. She was dead and beyond his help, so with a heavy heart he went back downstairs to Charlotte. She was the living and it was she who needed him now. He led her into the kitchen and, pulling out a chair, made her sit down.
‘I’m so very sorry, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘She’s gone. There’s nothing I can do for her.’
Charlotte, sitting in Miss Edie’s chair, stared up at him, silent tears beginning to run down her pale cheeks.
‘She won’t have known anything about it,’ he said.
‘I didn’t know she was up there,’ whispered Charlotte. ‘I was playing the piano and I didn’t know she was there.’
‘You couldn’t have done anything for her,’ Dr Masters promised. ‘It happened some hours ago, before you got home from school.’
‘But I didn’t come straight home,’ Charlotte cried. ‘I sat talking to Clare.’
‘It would’ve made no difference if you had,’ Dr Masters said. ‘Don’t blame yourself for not finding her sooner, Charlotte. You couldn’t have done anything for her.’
At that moment there was a tap on the back door and on opening it, Dr Masters found the vicar standing in the porch, a questioning look on his face.
‘Oh, David,’ said Dr Masters, relief in his voice. ‘It’s you.’
‘Has something happened?’ the vicar asked. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘I’m afraid Miss Everard has had a stroke.’
‘How is she?’ the vicar asked, then seeing the look on the doctor’s face, realised the answer.
‘I’d say it was instantaneous,’ said Dr Masters. ‘Poor Charlotte has just found her. Will you take her back to the vicarage? She can’t stay here, she’s in shock.’
‘Of course,’ replied the vicar.
They both went into the kitchen where Charlotte sat, pale and bleak-eyed. Her tears had stopped, but her cheeks were streaked and wet.
‘The vicar’s here,’ Dr Masters said. ‘He’s going to take you home with him now, Charlotte.’
‘I don’t want to go,’ Charlotte said flatly.
‘You must, my dear. You can’t stay here by yourself.’
‘I can’t leave Miss Edie.’
‘I’ll look after Miss Edie,’ the doctor replied softly. ‘You need to go with Mr Swanson. I’ll see to everything here, and then I’ll come and see how you are. All right?’
Charlotte didn’t reply and the vicar said, ‘Come along, Charlotte, come back with me and we can all decide what needs to be done.’ He held out his hand and though Charlotte didn’t take it, obediently she got to her feet.
Dr Masters smiled at her. ‘Good. You go with the vicar and I’ll be over to see you in a little while,’ he said.
Charlotte followed David Swanson out of the door. In the lane she turned back and looked at the house. A vision of Miss Edie lying spreadeagled on the landing filled her mind and she gave a strangled sob. David put an arm round her, but after a moment she pulled away and, turning her back on the house, began to walk down the lane.
Avril saw them coming and was at the door to meet them. She raised an interrogative eyebrow and her husband said, ‘I’m afraid Miss Edie’s had a stroke.’
‘Is she...?’ Avril’s words hung in the air.
‘She’s dead!’ cried Charlotte in despair. ‘And I was playing the piano.’ Avril reached out and took the girl in her arms and held her close as she began to sob.
From then on everything was taken out of Charlotte’s hands. Avril collected her clothes from Blackdown House and Charlotte stayed at the vicarage. She didn’t return to school for the last week of term and though the vicar and his wife had no idea of her decision, Charlotte was determined she was not going back to school in the autumn.
Dr Masters had no hesitation in signing the death certificate. He told Charlotte how Miss Edie had been visiting him over the past few months about her headaches.
‘She didn’t tell me,’ Charlotte said. ‘Well, I knew she had headaches sometimes, but I didn’t know she’d been to you about them.’
‘She probably didn’t want to worry you,’ he replied, adding gently, ‘She loved you very much, you know. You gave her a whole new lease of life.’
‘She did the same for me,’ Charlotte replied.
Miss Edie rested in a closed coffin in her parlour at Blackdown House until the day of the funeral. David and Avril had taken the responsibility for organising it, though they had tried to include Charlotte in their planning. Charlotte had remained cold and detached. She withdrew into herself and only spoke when spoken to. Billy came to see her, but she didn’t want him. The burst of love she’d felt for him only a few weeks ago had become a distant memory, fading like a dream in the cold light of reality. She pushed him away
. Everyone she loved disappeared and she was determined she would give no more hostages to fate. She was going to leave Wynsdown. She was sixteen and must take her life in her own hands, take responsibility for herself from now on. She told no one of her decision, not Billy, not Clare, not the vicar or his wife. Her decision was her own, influenced by nobody.
The day before the funeral Caroline Morrison arrived at the vicarage. Avril had rung her and asked if she could possibly come down.
‘Difficult,’ Caroline had said, but when she heard what Avril was suggesting, she agreed to come for two nights.
The day of the funeral dawned bright and clear. Waking to find sunlight bathing the vicarage garden, Charlotte felt the familiar stab of desolation. How could the sun go on shining? How could everyone else go on about their daily lives as if nothing had happened?
It seemed to Charlotte that the whole village came to the church. She sat with Avril and Caroline in the front pew, but the service meant little to her. David spoke of Miss Edie’s life in the village, of the loss of her fiancé, of how she’d stayed at home and nursed her parents, how she’d offered a home to Charlotte. The choir had sung for her, the people of the village, many of whom had always considered her as a curmudgeonly, eccentric old woman, had come to pay their respects... and to gossip about what had happened and what was going to happen to the German girl Miss Everard had taken in. They followed Miss Everard to the graveside and watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground.
Charlotte stood, dry-eyed now, and listened to the vicar saying prayers for the dead and she thought of all her dead. Mutti, Papa, Martin, as distant as the sepia photo she had of them, all disappeared from Hanau, almost certainly dead; Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan, come and gone from her short life, burned out of their home and also quite possibly dead; and now Miss Edie, who seemed the most real of them all, certainly dead, being lowered into the cold, brown earth. Charlotte tried to picture her, a living woman, digging her garden or wrestling with the vagaries of the kitchen range, but all she could see was Miss Edie, flat, cold and lifeless on the landing floor. She had been back to Blackdown House the previous afternoon and picked some flowers from Miss Edie’s garden and these had been laid on the coffin. Someone had removed them before the coffin was lowered into the ground; Charlotte chose a single rose and stepping forward, dropped it into the open grave.
The Girl With No Name Page 39