Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now

by Smith, Patricia I.

  Sydney remained clutching the shotgun as if he was hanging onto dear life. He was wavering and Heinrich could see that look of horror he had seen on others men’s faces when about to kill a human being instead of rabbits or vermin. Heinrich took another step forward. Sydney held his breath as if about to ease off the shotgun’s load. He noticed Heinrich wore his side-arm on his right side, and that was where he was concentrating. But Heinrich suddenly grabbed hold of the shotgun with his left hand and as he shoved the barrel skywards, it discharged the shot, the recoil hitting Sydney squarely in the chest. Heinrich snatched the gun away from Sydney’s hands, immediately broke it in half to release the smoking shells that fell to the ground. He was handing Steiner the shotgun, when Hannah came running out of the farmhouse to suddenly freeze when she saw the two soldiers in the farmyard confronting Sydney.

  ‘Did you notice any shotgun around here, Steiner?’ Heinrich asked still looking Sydney in the eye.

  ‘No, Sir,’ Steiner shouted, knowing from the tone of Heinrich’s voice that was the answer he was wanting, and expecting.

  ‘Neither, did I,’ Heinrich replied. Then he stepped up closer to Sydney. ‘Consider yourself very lucky you are not being arrested. Just remember,’ he reminded, ‘I can make your life unbearable. I have control over the milk tallies, and any discrepancy that appears on the papers leaving the farm, and the papers that arrive at the dairy could be tampered with, leaving you in a very vulnerable position. So if I were you I’d make sure you have nothing around here that could get you arrested, like any more fire-arms or shells. Understood?’ Heinrich asked.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Sydney replied through clenched teeth. ‘And when this war is over I will take great pleasure in killing you.’

  ‘We’ll see about that, old man,’ Heinrich said as he turned to see Hannah standing, open mouthed, observing. Heinrich stood to attention, bowed his head, and said, ‘Good day to you, Frau Marshall.’

  Hannah; staggered at the fact the officer hadn’t immediately put Sydney in the back of the car and taken him down to headquarters where he would, no doubt, be questioned then punished; remained speechless. But what rankled Sydney most was being called, ‘old man’ and as his adversaries drove away he spat out a mouthful of saliva onto the soil.

  Chapter Twenty One.

  Margaret fixed up the bed in the little box-room for Izzy to occupy. It was next to Heinrich’s quarters. There was no doubt in Margaret’s mind Izzy would rarely use it, but to all intents and purposes, as far as the other men billeted there were concerned, and, of course, the neighbours, Izzy was the new helping-hand who happened to be Margaret’s niece. Since Harry had returned home Margaret had kept most things from him as she thought he couldn’t cope. He never left the house, so therefore, never heard the gossip or saw things that might distress him even further. And to tell him about Izzy and her dog, Margaret thought was just too much for him to handle at present. He was kept in ignorant bliss as to what was going on around him, and he seemed so withdrawn to never notice anything either. He was perceived to be in his own private world, a world even Margaret could not penetrate.

  After the conversation with her mother that morning, Izzy, who sat holding her uncle’s hand whilst he stared into the fire-grate, still had tears in her eyes. Silence had reigned for some time, apart from the comings and goings they could both hear from the soldiers as they thumped out the front door, and their guttural chatter as they stomped up the stairs, and their deep abdominal laughter when one of them was amused.

  Harry and Izzy had just sat until Harry suddenly said, ‘I know what’s going on, Izzy, with you and the Oberleutnant.’ And he turned his head to look at her.

  Izzy looked down.

  Harry now turned his whole body in the armchair to face her. ‘It’s surprising what you can hear even through silence,’ he said. ‘Learned that trick in prison.’

  Izzy looked at him.

  ‘They are our enemy, Izzy, but like all peoples, there are good and there are bad in every race.’

  ‘Heinrich’s good,’ Izzy said coming to his defence.

  ‘Yes, he may well be, and I hope he is, for your sake, as you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?’ he said, revealing that, oh, so British, predilection for understatement.

  ‘You know about our affair?’

  ‘Yes, and I know someone has wrought vengeance by killing Benjy.’

  ‘Do you hate me, too,’ Izzy asked.

  ‘No, I don’t hate you. You’ve been more like a daughter to Margaret and me,’ Harry smiled. It was the first time he’d smiled since coming home. ‘You need our help and support now, something your father has never been able to give you. But that is not his fault. We are as we are; how we’ve been brought up; and your father’s as tough as old boots, like his father before him: another man who couldn’t show his feelings. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, or your mother, he just can’t show it, let alone say it,’ Harry commented.

  ‘You’ve shut us all out since you’ve been home,’ Izzy remarked. ‘Did something awful happen to you?’

  Harry smiled again. ‘Not really. I was cold, lonely and hungry most of the time, until they put me on grave duty.’ Izzy wondered why he was still smiling. ‘Grave duty meant I was outside the confines of the prison camp digging graves. I met a French lady from the local village who would give us food when they weren’t looking. We found we’d actually met during the Great War.’

  ‘Is that all,’ Izzy asked still wondering why that fact should amuse him.

  ‘No, that is not all, but Margaret must never know.’

  ‘So it’s guilt that has stuck you to that chair since you’ve been back, not ill-treatment,’ Izzy remarked.

  ‘They were harsh, alright, and they didn’t think twice about shooting someone for disobeying orders, but I wasn’t tortured or beaten. I kept my head down to dig grave after grave.’

  Izzy sighed. ‘I’ve often wished you were my father, you know,’ she said. ‘Aunt Margaret showed me the photograph of your little daughter.’

  ‘If you were our daughter, you wouldn’t have turned out as durable as you obviously are. You’re a feisty young woman who knows what she wants, and that’s down to your father. I would have wrapped you in cotton wool, lace dresses and silk ribbons, and no way would I have agreed to you marrying Alain’.

  ‘Didn’t you like him?’

  ‘Oh, yes, we liked him right enough, but he was a lowly schoolmaster. You were destined for some foreign prince.’

  Izzy and Harry burst out laughing as they both looked at her grubby overalls.

  ‘Did Margaret tell you what name we gave our daughter?’ he said when they’d stopped laughing.

  ‘No,’ Izzy replied.

  ‘Annabelle,’ Harry said.

  Throughout the day Izzy helped Margaret out with the household chores, and Harry finally deigned to get up from his chair to join them, which left Margaret wondering what had been said between her husband and Izzy to bring about such a drastic change, as she had heard them laughing from the kitchen. Izzy remarked it was just something silly, but whatever it was, Margaret was glad Harry had finally come out of his melancholy to become part of the family again.

  Heinrich arrived back about four in the afternoon to immediately seek out Izzy. Margaret was in her galley kitchen preparing afternoon tea for Harry, Izzy and herself, so Heinrich knocked on her sitting room door. Harry answered.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you, but is Izzy in here?’ Heinrich asked.

  ‘Yes, come in,’ Harry replied, opening the door a little wider.

  Izzy was sitting on the floor in front of the fire reading a book and as she turned her head to see Heinrich enter the room she shot up from the floor. They approached each other but just stood smiling.

  Harry stuck one hand in trouser pocket and said, ‘I’ll help Margaret with the tea.’

  Immediately Harry was out of sight they put their arms around each other and kissed.

 
‘I’ve been up to the farmhouse; seen your parents,’ Heinrich informed as he took his lips away.

  ‘Did you arrest my father?’ Izzy asked, worried.

  ‘No, just left him to stew; but I did take his shotgun away.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Izzy said. ‘He’ll be safer without it.’

  ‘I’ll call up at the cottage later; make sure everything’s safe and secure,’ Heinrich smiled.

  ‘I have to go up there, Heinrich, all my clothes are there, I only have here what I’m standing in. I’ll take Aunt Margaret’s bike.’

  ‘No, it’s too dangerous,’ he replied, letting go of her to walk towards the mantel shelf to stare into the flames. ‘I’ll take you up there,’ he said as he turned towards her, then he left the room to inform Steiner he needed him and the vehicle again.

  With Steiner driving, Heinrich and Izzy set off for the cottage. Heinrich sat on the back seat with Izzy, holding her hand, not saying anything. The days following his arrival on the island he’d witnessed the big red Swastikas painted over the doors of women known to have German lovers: he’d seen windows smashed, and women sometimes openly attacked in the street. The culprits, when caught, were given a few weeks in the local prison, but it didn’t stop the persecution of such women, or those who took it upon themselves to become judge and jury in such matters of collaboration. In fact anyone found collaborating in any way, would discover a reckoning so harsh they would seek retribution by informing, whereupon reprisal would be even harsher.

  As they approached the cottage by the single-track road, Heinrich could see the smashed front windows and the net curtaining flapping in the strong wind. The front door was also beaten in, and getting out of the car he ordered Steiner and Izzy to stay where they were. He walked down the path and as he approached the front door he could see all of Izzy’s belongings tipped out of drawers and cupboards to be left strewn and smashed about the floor. He carefully stepped over her belongings to get into the bedroom, the bed has been upturned and he wondered where Izzy had put the drawings he had made of her. He’d given all of them to her and retained only the head and shoulder sketch which he kept in his inside pocket. He looked around, but couldn’t find them, and he began to panic. One of them was a sketch of Izzy naked. What a field-day someone would have if they got their hands on that and as he walked from the cottage he closed the door behind him.

  ‘Where are those drawings I made of you,’ he whispered to Izzy who was still sitting on the back seat. ‘I couldn’t find them,’ he said.

  ‘I hid them,’ Izzy replied.

  ‘Where?’ Heinrich asked. ‘I’ve looked everywhere, but every cupboard, every drawer was turned out. Even the bed was up-turned.’

  It had started to rain as Izzy got out of the car to view her wrecked home. Heinrich went straight into the kitchen to get the oil-lamp. Izzy began to get distraught as she saw the mess her home was in. How could someone do this? How could someone kill her dog? How could someone wreck her life? Material things she could do without, it was those personal effects that meant so much more to her, like photographs; things her parents and Alain had bought her, like a pearl necklace along with some other jewellery that was in a jewellery box. The box was still there, open on the floor of the bedroom, but the contents had gone. She picked up a few photographs that had been strewn across the floor, and as she looked at them tears sprang from her eyes. How has it come to this, she thought?

  As Heinrich suddenly crouched by her side to help pick up the photographs, he breathed, ‘This is all wrong. Me, being here is wrong, being together is wrong. That’s what this is all about. They are telling us it’s all wrong.’

  ‘And do you believe love is wrong?’ Izzy asked, tears streaming down her face to collect on her chin.

  ‘Love should be right, but because of who we are, ours is wrong,’ Heinrich replied and as they both rested on their knees on the floor to face each other, he said, ‘They can punish me: they can send me away, but that will not stop me loving you,’ he said.

  Izzy quickly packed a suitcase with some of her clothes and other personal belongings before reaching up inside the chimney of the unused fireplace in the bedroom to pull down the bundle of drawings wrapped in an oil-cloth. As Heinrich carried her suitcase to the car she had one last look around. She turned off the oil-lamp and shut the door behind her. It was no use locking it as the lock was hanging precariously by one screw.

  Heinrich was waiting for her by the open car door. He touched her face, frowning at the same time. Steiner just sat in the driver’s seat, eyes forward.

  ‘That part of my life is now gone,’ Izzy said, and she stepped into the car.

  Chapter Twenty Two.

  The days went by with no sign of Izzy’s father giving-in, wanting to see his daughter again. He even cut himself and Hannah off further by having the phone line disconnected up at the farm as he said he couldn’t afford it any longer. Hannah desperately wanted to see her daughter after finding out someone had been to the cottage to demolish everything Izzy and Alain had worked for. But she was afraid of Sydney’s reaction if he found out. She had stood up to him that one time, and, if she did nothing else, she was determined to stay in Izzy’s room until he came to his senses. As for seeing Izzy, if Hannah did disobey her husband by going down to see her at her sister’s, she thought it just might tip the balance as far as her relationship with her husband was concerned. Sydney seemed to accept the new sleeping arrangements as his price to pay for being stubborn and immovable on the stance he took regarding his daughter. But his wife defying his wishes was a different matter.

  From the first day of Izzy moving into the billet, Heinrich had made it clear to Margaret he would pay her extra money every Friday for Izzy’s keep as she had no job. She had tried to seek out some sort of work, but no one would take her on, not even the local grocery store. Izzy became a kept woman, like a lot of other women who had taken up with German soldiers. But once those soldiers were posted elsewhere, the women found themselves totally alone. And if they had children, they often as not went without food. Life was abysmal for these women and their children, so entertaining the troops was the only solution left to them, at least they could feed their children and themselves. The will to survive was so strong it disregarded the rights and wrongs.

  Life at The Beach Hotel went on as normal. The troops came and went, Harry became far more talkative and involved in household matters, and Izzy pottered about the house doing her allocated chores. But it got to the point where she couldn’t even go out any more, and Heinrich, try as he may, he just couldn’t keep the gossip from spreading, or stop the inhabitants taunting Izzy the minute she set foot outside the door to even peg out the washing in the back yard. He did make sure, though, the troops billeted at the small hotel treated Izzy and her aunt and uncle with respect, as all three of them had to endure the name-calling, the spitting, the odd shove in a shopping queue, the odd poke in the back. Margaret could do nothing about the islanders, but she could make sure Izzy was safe and relatively happy.

  Heinrich’s duties of policing the island he had always found mundane, and boring, but he now preferred the peacefulness of the islands to the constant barrage of enemy fire. He had been on the island now for six months: and what a six months it had been. Not only had he met a woman he had instantly fallen in love with, but he knew he had changed. He began to recognise there was some semblance of his old self showing through. But the happiness he felt at being in love was often tinged with sadness. Even though the troops were fed on the constant propaganda about how well the Germany Army was doing in all theatres of war, only a few believed it. And he realised his life could suddenly change overnight. But his hope was the war would end soon.

  Izzy was taking an afternoon nap and was lying on top of the double bed in Heinrich’s room, drifting off into a light sleep, her book having dropped onto the floor. She didn’t hear Heinrich unlock the door to step inside. Seeing Izzy lying on her side he crept across the room, and trying no
t to disturb her he covered her with a blanket. He then went to sit in the armchair by the window after he had taken his sketchpad from the top drawer of the dresser. He began to draw her. He still had that picture in his head of Izzy standing naked in the middle of the room the night before, her breasts pointing at him like two accusing fingers. She stirred to turn over.

  ‘Hello,’ Heinrich whispered from across the room.

  Izzy opened her eyes. ‘Hello, how long have you been there?’

  ‘Only a few minutes,’ he replied smiling.

  Izzy sat up to swing her legs from the bed. ‘You’re drawing me again,’ she said feeling for her shoes with her feet.

  Heinrich walked over to her to put her feet in the shoes he retrieved from under the bed then he ran his hands up her legs as he knelt down, looking up at her.

  Izzy slaked her fingers through his hair. ‘May I see the drawing?’ she asked.

  Heinrich got up to retrieve the pad from the table in the bay of the window. ‘Here,’ he said sitting at the side of her on the bed. Izzy looked at the sketch. ‘I lay watching you undress last night.’

  ‘My belly looks…’ Izzy paused. Her belly did look bloated.

  ‘Don’t all women’s bellies look big when they are about to come on?’ Heinrich replied.

  Izzy turned her head away from him, she could never lie when looking someone in the face. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said, ignoring the fact she was about to miss her third period, but, at the same time, despairing that he just might discover her secret as they slept together now most nights.

  She now looked into his face. ‘Do you want me?’ she asked. ‘Because I want you.’

  ‘I always want you,’ Heinrich replied kissing her on the cheek.

  Izzy stood up and began to undress. Heinrich sat on the bed watching, getting excited. When she was totally naked he flung the bedclothes back for Izzy to climb in. Heinrich was soon at her side, having quickly flung off his own clothing. He was kissing her as she lay on her back, his lips on hers, his tongue wet and probing, his hands sweeping over her body, his fingertip touch as light as a feather. Izzy moaned softly as she felt down to take him in her hand to satisfy him, but he stopped her to disappear under the bedclothes. Izzy suddenly felt his head resting on her thigh. She opened her legs wide wanting him to touch her. He licked her, and continued using his tongue until Izzy arched her back before shoving the sheet into her mouth to stop the noise. Then she felt the baby for the first time. Something fluttered in her belly, and it had nothing to do with the orgasm that had left behind a deep throbbing sensation. Heinrich shuffled up the bed to lie by her side. Izzy turned to face him, then taking him in her hand she gave only a few gentle pulls before he came, shoving his face into her breasts to suffocate the noise of his groaning.