Jack crossed the dark road and headed straight for the pub. The door swung open as he pushed, the squeak of the hinges lost in the noise of the bar. The smell of sweat and old beer hit him immediately, bringing back fond memories. The place was almost full of men, deep in conversation, forgetting the outside world if only for a brief time. He hated that feeling of walking into a busy pub, when everyone looked at you as your eyes adjusted to the gloom, wondered what on earth it was you wanted and why you were alone.
He pushed past the two men at the table nearest to the door, who nodded at him, and went through a cloud of smoke to the bar. Jack would have liked to have brought Johanna here, but she wouldn’t step foot in the place. She would rather be outdoors than cooped up in a cramped and smelly pub, and at times he could understand why.
He ordered a pint of Randall’s then headed towards the back of the room. Even from the front Jack could hear David’s jovial voice, repeating some anecdote he had probably already told them a hundred times before. It brought a smile to Jack’s face as he pushed his way deeper into the crowd.
‘Ahh, Jack!’ David stood up and beamed at him, before pulling him close in a bear hug that almost took the breath out of him. Most men would have simply nodded at Jack and welcomed him to the table, but David wasn’t most men. They had worked together for years now, and since Jack had started David had treated him like a brother, like the brother neither of them had ever had. He let go of Jack, and Jack took a deep breath of air to refill his lungs, hoping that David didn’t notice. David gestured for Jack to sit.
There were three other men at the table, one of whom he only just recognised. The other two Jack knew well from school. Nicholas patted Jack on the back as he sat down next to him and nodded as he played a hand through his short ginger hair. There was a smile on his young face, apparently in good humour from whatever anecdote David had been telling. To his right was Peter, a skinny man, who was an old school friend, and then the man Jack didn’t know.
‘Glad you could join us,’ David said, before leaning to the side so he could speak only to Jack. ‘Listen, about the other day when I disappeared—’
‘It’s fine. No one found out. Let’s just keep it that way, all right? I don’t want to know what you’re up to.’
Nicholas leant over his pint. ‘Say, have you seen the Germans try and play cricket?’ he asked, repeating a joke he’d clearly got from David. ‘They don’t know their stump from a crease.’ Everyone laughed, except for the man Jack didn’t know, who watched for Jack’s reaction.
In a way, the man reminded Jack of the pictures of the Führer he had seen. He never seemed to smile, the faint movement of his lips more like a scowl. His eyes were deep set and gave him a considered look, as if he was always appraising from a distance. He was prone to staring, and it immediately made Jack feel uneasy.
‘You work with them?’ he said, scrunching his eyes and looking from Jack to David and back again.
‘Come on, Clive,’ David responded. ‘You know that we do.’
‘Not exactly,’ Jack responded, lowering his voice to something only fractionally above a murmur. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘Oh? What is it like then?’
‘Careful, Clive. Jack’s lady friend is German too, and she’s all right!’
Jack winced, closing his eyes. At first he had wondered why Clive seemed to be singling him out, but now he knew why. Not for the first time he wished David had kept his mouth shut.
‘You’re consorting with them too?’
‘Now, hold on,’ David jumped in, trying to come to the rescue, but only drawing the attention of the drinkers at the tables around them with his booming voice.
Jack held up a hand to placate him. ‘Everything works exactly the same way it did … before.’ He hesitated, thinking that to invoke the name of the British might only make things worse. ‘Anything to do with the Germans is referred to them and then they have to deal with it.’
‘But you still arrest Guernseymen for them?’ Flecks of spittle formed at the corner of the man’s mouth as his face reddened and his voice became a growl.
‘I thought we had come here for a drink, Clive?’ David asked, smiling at each of them and hoping to lighten the mood. ‘Not for a debate.’
He opened a battered carton of cigarettes and handed them around the table. Clive refused, and Jack thought about accepting just to spite him, but in the end David didn’t even offer. ‘What were you saying about the cricket, Nicholas?’
‘What do you care?’ Clive continued, ignoring David’s attempts to calm things down. ‘You’re not even an Islander, not really.’
‘What are you talking about? I’m as much of an Islander as you are.’
Clive stood, and his stool fell over behind him. ‘But you weren’t born here were you, Jack? You’re English really. And so was your father. Your lot left us to the whims of the Germans, and I’ll never forgive them for that.’
David stood too, facing off against Clive. ‘You’ve had too much to drink. Calm down.’
‘I wouldn’t expect him to understand. He’s not one of us.’ He turned back to Jack. ‘You’re as much an outsider as they are.’
Jack had heard it all before, but this was the first time anyone had shown this level of anger towards him. There was something else behind those words. Jack decided to leave. He didn’t want the trouble, and he thought if he wasn’t there then David and the others could get back to the drink.
‘You haven’t got any fight in you – you only care about yourself.’
Jack couldn’t help himself. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked as his own stool flew back.
‘Your cowardly English father. They’re all the same.’
Jack almost didn’t notice as the man twisted and swung a fist at him, but his police training took over. Alcohol had made the other man slow, and it allowed Jack to take the punch in the palm of his hand, and grip, locking the man’s fist there. Using Clive’s momentum he pulled him around and locked his arm behind his back. Now facing the other way, there was no way that he could attack. He struggled to free himself, kicking out, but Jack was in control.
Jack bunched his right fist and was about to swing when he heard the door to the pub open. There was a sudden silence and Jack could sense eyes watching him. There was a clink of an empty glass as someone put it down on the table. Jack let go of Clive, who loosened his shoulders and stormed off.
No one else moved as a uniformed soldier entered the room, holding open the door behind him. Jack wondered how much the German had heard of the conversation, but the man simply nodded at the room and headed to the bar. As the soldier cleared the doorway another man entered. He wasn’t in uniform like his companion, but he certainly wasn’t from the island. He had a distinctly German look, reminding Jack of the secret police he had seen at the states offices, but there was something more to him. He had small, calculating eyes, and Jack could feel the man quietly assessing him. For what, Jack wasn’t sure, but there was an analytical mind behind those eyes. A smile broke out on the German’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was like a predator that had caught sight of his prey and realised there was nothing the poor creature could do to defend itself. He said nothing as he walked past Jack, following in the wake of the soldier.
Jack turned to the room as everyone went back to their drinks. Clive had gone, his anger with him, but Jack knew it wouldn’t be the last of it. With tensions running high under occupation, it was hardly surprising that someone had taken it upon themselves to make a point of it, even if it was the alcohol talking. He had a feeling that next time he saw Clive they would both act as if nothing had happened.
Jack noticed that the short German was still looking at him over the top of his untouched drink while the soldier talked to him. The man had the enquiring gaze of a detective, beady eyes that were always looking for information, even if there was a smile underneath them. That smile was false, put on like some kind of act to make Jack feel more
at ease, but all it did was make his skin crawl. It was snake-like. The man had to be one of the Gestapo, and the thought made him feel decidedly uneasy. Even though they were supposed to be secret police there was something so obvious about the man, conspicuous in his entire manner.
Not for the first time, he wondered if it would be worth trying to learn the language. If he remembered next time he passed a bookshop he would see if he could pick up a book on German. By now the military authority would have censored the books and imported their own.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of those eyes following him, and every time Jack looked up there he was. The man nodded next time he looked, and took a sip of his beer. Jack was frozen, unsure how to respond, but after an awkward moment he nodded back. Whatever was going on, Jack couldn’t concentrate. He nudged David, who was nursing his own pint, in the ribs. He twisted towards Jack in shock. ‘Hmm?’ he asked, not really paying attention.
‘I think it’s time we left, David.’
The other man looked at the dregs of his pint and shrugged. He put the glass back on the table and it made a hollow banging sound.
‘All right,’ David said. ‘I wasn’t having much fun anyway. And I’ve finished my drink. If I leave now, at least I won’t have to crawl home.’
He turned to Jack with a big grin, hoping that he would react, but Jack simply shook his head.
‘I’m not carrying you. I couldn’t bend over for days after the last time!’
As they left, Jack could still feel the man’s eyes boring into his back. He felt an enormous sense of relief as the door shut behind him, putting some distance between them. He wouldn’t put it past the German to follow him, but as they got further down the road there was no sign of him. Jack kept looking back over his shoulder as the two of them walked in silence. There was also the possibility that Clive could be following him, looking for revenge, but Jack hoped he had learnt his lesson. David would normally be talking his head off, but he was unusually quiet. The only noise was his footfalls as he stumbled along the road. He had clearly had more to drink than Jack had realised, and Jack wondered whether he had too.
‘Just a minute. I need to pop in somewhere.’
‘But you’ve already had your lotion.’ Jack shrugged, letting his hands play out by his sides. ‘Where are you going?’
David didn’t answer but stumbled off into the dark. Jack thought about following, but he couldn’t bring himself to. David had a mind of his own, and no matter how much Jack tried to keep him in line, it never worked.
Jack stood on the corner, keeping an eye out and waiting for David to come back. He was more concerned about the Germans and he still couldn’t shake the thought of that member of the secret police watching him. Hurry up, he said to himself. After a few minutes he saw David coming down the road. Jack reprimanded himself for being so stupid. He had to stop jumping at shadows.
‘Where did you go?’ Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the darkness all the same.
‘I went to check on Clive,’ David replied, slurring his words. Somehow Jack knew he was lying, but before he could say anything, David pulled him into a big hug.
‘You’re a good friend,’ he said, almost in Jack’s ear. There was a package under David’s arm and it pressed into Jack’s ribs. ‘I love you.’
Jack could hear the drunken smile on David’s lips. David was his best friend, but he knew it was the alcohol talking. He just nodded in agreement.
‘Have you heard the news?’ David continued. ‘It’s all over. The Germans have invaded Russia!’
Defiance
Susanne was clearing a table in a lounge of the Imperial Hotel when she saw a Wehrmacht officer stand up, pull the hem of his field grey tunic back down to his waist, then walk over to an elderly couple that were sitting by the window. The couple had been sitting there for a number of hours; they often came into the hotel to gaze out of the long window at the sea in the distance. Susanne wasn’t sure what they were really looking at or thinking, or whether they were simply just being, but they spent hours by that window. Sometimes she wished she could do the same, but she had to work. As a foreigner to the island she had to earn her keep somehow.
The soldier had stood abruptly, and Susanne couldn’t tell from his manner what he was doing; they all walked in that same self-confident way, something close to goose-stepping, but less officious. She had been wary of that look since it had first shown up in her home country, but here so far from Germany she had never expected to see it. He marched to the elderly couple and stood over them, clenching and unclenching his hands. After a minute, the officer spoke.
‘That brooch,’ he said, with a faltering accent. ‘Please remove it immediately. It is offensive.’
There was silence for a moment as the woman looked down at the brooch she had attached to her blouse. Susanne could make out the shape of a pair of sapphire wings, similar to the wings worn by the RAF pilots that had been stationed on the island. It was just like her countrymen to take offence at something like that.
The woman’s eyes widened in shock. ‘No!’ she replied, rather forcibly without moving in her seat. ‘I am proud to wear it!’
Susanne could feel the tension in the other woman from where she was standing and watching, wanting desperately to help. It was dangerous for her to intervene, not just as a German, but as a Jew. She wanted to melt away into the shadows.
‘I will not! My son …’ The woman hesitated. ‘My son gave it to me when he earned his wings, and I wear it to remember him.’
Susanne put down her tray of teapots and cups. She had no authority in this situation, despite working in the hotel. Her mind raced with possibilities. She had already seen someone hauled off to the cells recently, and she couldn’t bear to see it happen again. It had been when that Swiss Nazi had shouted, ‘Heil Hitler!’ and the woman had replied with the stupid remark, ‘To Hell with Hitler!’ It had been awful, awful and stupid, but this was different. The poor old couple were being intimidated. Why couldn’t he leave them alone? What did a silly old brooch matter to him? The Nazis had enough of their own symbols and colours around the place; why couldn’t the Islanders have something of their own for once? Susanne wanted to go over there and tell him as much.
Before she could do anything the woman’s husband had stood and pulled himself up to his full height in front of the officer, but he only came up to the soldier’s nose. Susanne had to think fast. It was clear that they weren’t going to let this go. Without turning she pushed open the door to the kitchen. ‘Maggie. Get the police on the telephone – there’s a soldier in here spoiling for a fight.’
She didn’t know whether the serving girl heard her or not, but she was too busy watching the scene unfold to find out. The soldier was looking down at the elderly man. ‘If the lady does not remove this badge right now,’ he said, his voice calm, but his body language anything but, ‘I will tear it from her myself.’
‘If you do any such thing, I will knock you down where you stand!’ The husband’s voice carried across the lounge. The veins on his forehead stood out, red as a Nazi flag.
The officer took one step back and lifted his pistol. Pointing it at the husband, the soldier reached his other hand down and pulled the brooch from the woman’s blouse. There was a tearing sound as it came free. The husband stared at the barrel of the pistol and his wife clasped her hands to her mouth. Neither of them moved as the officer stalked back to his own table, brooch in hand. As soon as he was gone the husband turned to his wife to console her, but it was no good. She shook where she was sitting, her hands still across her face and tears falling down her cheeks.
Susanne stood in shock. She decided to get them another pot of tea, a small gesture that might calm their spirits. Before she could leave the lounge to fetch the drink a couple of German soldiers marched into the room. Susanne recognised them instantly as Feldgendarmerie. They didn’t come up to her to ask what had happened; instead they spoke to the German pa
trons of the hotel, but Susanne couldn’t hear their muttered conversations. Eventually they made their way to the window. They exchanged a few words with the couple, who were shaking their heads through the entire conversation. One of the field police shrugged and then led the husband away. He looked back over his shoulder at his wife and told her that everything was going to be all right, but his eyes told a different story.
As they passed Susanne she wanted to scream, ‘No! You’ve got the wrong person! The German sitting over there is the one you want.’ But the words would not come.
When they had gone, she finally peeled herself away from the spot she had been standing in the entire time to get that pot of tea. The manager wouldn’t be happy, but she didn’t care about him. She only had thoughts for the dear old woman sitting in the window.
Chapter 21
2 July 1941
The first year of the occupation had gone quicker than any of them could have imagined, and it was far from over. Jack couldn’t believe that the Germans had been in charge of the islands for a year. Gone was any hope of the occupation being over soon. The Germans had settled in and the islands felt more like theirs than they had ever done. He had heard that they were even starting to teach German in the schools. On his way to work he wondered how long it would be before the German authorities insisted that the local police should learn it. Having a passing knowledge of French was already a desirable skill, but many would refuse the new language.
Jack heard the sound of a car engine coming along the road, breaking his reverie. Even now, almost a year later, he fought the urge to duck for cover. Most of the vehicles on the island were used by the Germans, meaning that Jack paid them little heed. But this time it was heading straight towards him on the wrong side of the road. There had been rumours of them deciding to change the rules to the German side of the road, but he hadn’t thought they would be that stupid. He pulled his bicycle to the side, to try to avoid the oncoming car, as a truck appeared behind him. A squeal of protesting brakes came from the truck as it spotted the car on the wrong side of the road and tried to avert disaster. There was a screech of rending metal as the truck skidded, narrowly avoiding Jack as he fell from his bicycle. It knocked a lamppost over as it came to rest against a building. From where he lay, Jack saw the car careen to the side, before it too came to an abrupt halt.
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