Robins looked around as if unsure who Jack meant. ‘Aye, apparently someone turned them in.’ He checked his notepad like a good acting policeman. ‘A Mrs Fletcher. They’re awaiting their trial now.’
Jack sighed, a name he hadn’t heard in a while and hoped he wouldn’t again. Mrs Fletcher was a menace on the local community, but he had thought she was harmless in her own way. Mistaking Jack’s sigh for a sign of exasperation that an Islander would turn in another, Robins continued.
‘It’s worse,’ he said. ‘Apparently she’s the mother of one of them.’
Jack shook his head. Only part of him was shocked by that.
‘Oh, looks like you’re going back in,’ Robins said, nodding in the direction of the court.
Jack nodded his thanks and rushed up to the gallery. The families were all still there, holding on to each other for support, so he sat at the back to keep out of their way. He didn’t want to invade their private grief. He sat down just in time to hear the tribunal give their verdict.
‘After careful deliberation with my colleagues, we acquit PC Frank Baker of all charges, and pronounce all other parties as guilty of the charges that have been brought before them.’
Tears broke out as the families heard their husbands’ and fathers’ sentences, no longer able to hold the emotions at bay.
‘No appeal will be considered, and all men will serve their prison sentences in France.’
Some of the men collapsed into their seats, resigned to their fate, but David looked up and round at the gallery. His eyes didn’t fall on his family, but on Jack, wide and pleading. Jack would remember that look for the rest of his days.
*
‘We’ve received reports of a black wireless at a property down in the forest.’ William handed Jack an address card. ‘Apparently a soldier overheard the bells during a news broadcast.’
Jack had known that at some point he would be called in to arrest locals who had not obeyed the command. There had been other cases already, and the Germans were handing out prison sentences for disobeying, but so far Jack had not been required to be the arresting officer. Within half an hour he had arrived on the road in the forest, where Henrik was already waiting for him.
Jack supposed he would have to get used to working more and more with the German police as time went on. It was now required for them to work with the Feldgendarmerie on these cases. Apparently the local police couldn’t be trusted. It would only be a matter of time before the local police force was wound up completely and their duties handed over to the German authorities.
Henrik simply nodded as Jack arrived and tied up his bicycle, then led Jack between the houses on the Villiaze Road. He must have been aware what Jack was thinking. Everyone on the island would have heard about the trial of the policemen by now, and Henrik was keeping quiet.
‘This is the house,’ Henrik said as he knocked on a front door. As they waited for the occupant to answer, Jack wondered what they would do if they found a wireless set in the house. They would be required to take the owner into custody, but Jack would let Henrik do that. It was his country’s rule. He was only there to make sure that the homeowner was treated as fairly as possible.
A few seconds later the door opened, and a middle-aged man came out. His clothes were tattered, torn in some places, and his eyes stared at a place between Henrik and Jack’s shoulders. Henrik opened his mouth to explain why they were there, but Jack beat him to it. He didn’t want the German to unduly scare the man. ‘We’re just here to check you don’t have any wireless sets in the house,’ he said. ‘It won’t take us long.’
The man walked back into his house, nodding a couple of times as Henrik and Jack stepped over the threshold. The building smelled of boiled cabbage. When the man disappeared into his living room, Henrik stopped Jack with an outstretched palm.
‘Do you see a wireless set?’ he asked, leaning aside to show the opened door.
Jack could barely see in the door, let alone see the owner’s possessions. He wondered if Henrik was testing him, checking his loyalty. Jack had long since decided that you couldn’t trust the Germans. At one point he had thought that Henrik might be better, but now he was no longer sure.
‘No,’ he said, the upward inflection of his voice indicating that it was part question, and that he was unsure what was really being asked.
‘No more do I,’ Henrik replied, guiding Jack back to the front door. He thanked the owner and closed the door behind him once they were outside. Jack couldn’t help himself.
‘What the hell was that?’ he asked as they headed back towards where Jack had left his bike.
Henrik laughed. It was a short bark. ‘That man is no master criminal, or resistance leader. I did not think there was much use in wasting our time.’ He marched a few steps more, then seemed to consider something. ‘Jack, I am sorry for your friend.’
Jack stopped dead. ‘What the hell does it matter to you?’ he asked.
‘If there was anything I could have done …’
‘You could have stayed in Germany.’
Henrik looked down at his shoes. ‘Yes, you are right,’ he said. His voice had lost its Prussian steel. ‘If it helps then I have a feeling that I may not be here for much longer.’
It was Jack’s turn to consider his words. Something in him had changed. The thought of Henrik leaving hit him hard. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There are rumours that a number of us are going to be redeployed. Do not tell anyone, but things are not going as well as they say in the war.
‘The fighting is far from over.’
Chapter 31
There was a knock on the door, quick and regular. It was the kind of knock Jack would often tap on a door when he was on duty. He hesitated in the kitchen, halfway between bites of a mouldy slice of bread. His stomach rumbled, but the front door drew his attention as there was another knock. Part of him was always expecting the secret knock used by the small group of Guernsey resistance on the island, but it never came. The signal was three short raps then a long one, the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, or ‘V’, the same music used at the beginning of BBC broadcasts. It was clever, but one day the Germans would work out what it meant.
It was clear that whoever it was, they were not going to go away. Sighing, he dropped the bread back on his plate, hoping no one would steal it while he was out of the kitchen. Then he stood up and headed towards the door. ‘I’ll get it,’ he called up the stairs, just loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to wake his mother if she was sleeping. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Jack had been there many times before and he wondered who it could be. Fear rushed through him as he reached out for the door handle. Had the German authorities finally come for him? Had they realised that he had been harbouring a Jew and taken Johanna into custody? Every possibility ran through his head. He almost took his hand back, unwilling to open the door, but it was no good.
He wrenched the door open, determined to meet his fate with as much power as he could muster. The hinges squealed as it swung open, revealing the bright summer sunshine and the figure at his door.
‘Henrik?’ Jack asked, surprised. The German had never come to his house before; Jack had no idea he knew where Jack lived. It was unusual to see the man out of his uniform, and he wore a simple, dark grey, linen suit.
‘Jack!’ he replied, flashing that familiar smile of his. ‘I thought I had the wrong house. I’m glad to see you.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Jack poked his head out of the door to see whether there was anyone else on the road. He had a hard enough time as it was with people considering a policeman to be complicit with the Germans without one of them actually being on his doorstep. Even if he had come to consider this man to be a friend.
‘I want to show you something,’ Henrik said, his eagerness drawing the words together, making them less familiar in a foreign tongue. ‘But you must come quickly.’
‘Where?’
‘Com
e, come. People will see.’ Apparently he too had realised the danger they were in. Jack’s thoughts again ran away with him. Living under German occupation had made him doubt everyone, question everything.
‘Wait a second.’ Jack closed the door and leant against it. He closed his eyes, asking himself what he was doing, before he opened them again and reached for his jacket. Others would say he was mad, including his mother, but he had always been this way.
‘Come with me.’ Henrik beckoned to Jack. ‘Come on,’ he repeated. ‘Quick. We do not have the entire night.’
He was right – the curfew would be starting soon, and Jack had spent too many nights out after curfew already, sneaking home after dark hoping that he wouldn’t be seen.
‘What is it?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder. ‘Why do I have to go?’
‘It will be worth it. Permit me this one indulgence.’
*
A few minutes later they had walked further into the town, and Henrik had stopped in front of a house. ‘This is where I live,’ he said with a smile. But there was a look behind his eyes, the same one he had seen when they’d argued. He entered the front door without saying another word.
Jack, intrigued more than anything, followed shortly behind, walking into the relative gloom of the house. It was like many of the other houses in St Peter Port. A corridor led to stairs with rooms leading from the sides. Many residents had given their spare rooms over to German soldiers and many of the houses now were more German than local. Jack had never stepped foot in the house before and he didn’t know Henrik’s landlady other than what the German had told him about her. According to him she was accommodating and welcoming. Jack wondered whether she was simply intimidated by the Germans. However, she was nowhere to be seen in the house. She must have been out, or had already taken herself to her room for the evening.
Jack followed Henrik up the stairs. As he reached the top banister, he heard a key turning a lock and light spilled into the darkened landing. Jack walked tentatively forward, and the light blinded him for a moment.
‘Come in, come in,’ he heard Henrik whisper from the doorway. Again, Jack followed, but he kept a safe distance behind.
Henrik walked to the window and pulled the curtains shut. He mumbled something to himself in German, and Jack recognised something to do with privacy. ‘Close the door,’ he bid Jack as he looked around for something. Jack did as he was told, and the room descended into darkness. He tensed, not knowing what was going to happen next. The smell of boot polish was overpowering.
There was the satisfying click and then the fizz of a match being lit. The room filled with shadows. Jack could see Henrik reaching for a candle and touching the match to the wick as he tried to coax it to life. Henrik only lit the one, relying on it to provide all the light they needed. Other sources of light were now scarce on the island since the fuel had run out. They had become used to living by candlelight, much like their grandparents and great-grandparents would have done. It was a strange light, throwing flickering shadows around the room, and Jack’s eyes never quite adjusted to it. It was as if there was a fuzzy blur over his vision, coloured slightly by the flame of the candles.
The room was small, but Henrik had tried to make it a home. There were a few pictures of smiling family on a desk in the corner and a couple of books neatly piled by their side. As Jack had expected, there was no swastika to be seen.
Henrik placed the candle on the desk, then went to his bed and knelt down beside it. He reached under the frame with both hands and then hauled a box out, before placing it on the desk with the candle.
‘What is it?’ Jack asked, uncertain. The shape was wrapped in a sheet of cloth.
‘Ahh, just a moment.’ Henrik was clearly enjoying the suspense, building Jack’s expectations. His mind raced, wondering whether Henrik had managed to get hold of some extra rations, or had somehow looted the German stores and was willing to share it with Jack. Whatever it was, there was a sense of danger that Jack couldn’t quite shift. He felt he had been in this situation before.
A second later Henrik pulled the cloth from the shape, flapping it in front of him like a magician performing a trick. Underneath the cloth was a metal device with a couple of dials and needle meters. The candlelight reflected back from it.
‘What do you think?’ Henrik asked, the excitement clear on his face as he beamed up at Jack from where he knelt.
‘What is it?’ Jack replied, asking the same question again.
‘A wireless set! A basic one, of course, but it works. Listen.’ He plugged the device into the mains electric then turned one of the dials to switch it on. White noise spilled into the room before he adjusted the volume control. Jack hadn’t realised, but he had taken a step closer, eager to hear the wireless. He heard the familiar four notes that signalled the beginning of a BBC broadcast and realised how much he missed them. ‘This is London calling …’
Jack closed his eyes, breathing in the sounds of the broadcast, the familiar British voice that he felt like he hadn’t heard in years and the faint crackle of interference. After a few seconds he opened his eyes again. ‘Quick, turn it off,’ he said, regretting the words. ‘Before someone reports you.’
Henrik did as he was told, clicking the dial into the off position.
‘Where did you get it?’
‘It is best not to ask that, I think. It saves me having to lie to you. Gerhart helped me get it, but the important thing is that I got it. It is a secret between us, yes?’
Jack nodded quickly. He certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone. It took a special kind of stupidity to inform on the German soldiers themselves, not to mention a special kind of cruelty. Jack liked to think he wasn’t that stupid, stupid enough to draw attention to himself. So, he said nothing, leaving his silence as confirmation he would do whatever Henrik asked of him. It had become a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of them. Jack had another question though.
‘Why did you show it to me?’ he asked. ‘Why haven’t you kept it secret?’
Henrik sighed and pushed the wireless under the bed. Then sat on the end. He looked smaller than before, somehow deflated, a thousand miles from the tall imposing German police officer he was to the outside world.
‘I’ve been ordered to the Eastern Front.’ He said it matter-of-factly, monotone. There wasn’t even a hint of emotion in his voice, and Jack thought that itself was strange. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Henrik headed him off.
‘I wanted to show you this before I had to leave. Gerhart is coming too, otherwise he would have taken it. If you think you can hide it, then you may have it when I am gone. But be careful. You remember what happened to your colleagues.’
Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever forget. He didn’t know if David would ever return from prison in France.
‘When do you leave?’ He was sorry that the man was leaving the island, and that was as close to friendship he would allow himself to feel.
‘In a few days, I should think. I will be sorry to say goodbye to the island.’ He dropped his head into his hands. It looked as if he was praying.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack asked, suspecting he knew anyway.
‘I am sorry. I should not lay this burden on your shoulders.’ He looked up again, his bright blue eyes boring into Jack’s. ‘But it is a death sentence, in all except name. I do not know anyone who has been sent to the Eastern Front who has not lost their life.’
News on the island was limited to the German channels, which had no doubt been censored and sanitised so as not to cause any problems. Even the local newspapers had to get their material from the same sources, but none of them had been able to truly spin the news coming from the Eastern Front into anything positive. By all accounts the German army had taken on too much by attacking Russia and with the harsh eastern winter closing in they were getting bogged down by the troubling terrain. Many of the superior officers still said that victory was only a matter of time, but the regular soldiers
knew the situation was far more complex than that.
‘I wanted you to know, before I go. That I consider you to be a friend. That is why I brought you here, where we could talk in private.’
Jack was taken aback and touched. It was a difficult friendship between them, when they were really enemies. But it showed that even enemies could find a common ground. He was one German who Jack wished well.
‘I will be sorry to see you go.’
That was all he could bring himself to say.
‘Thank you and good luck.’
‘Good luck,’ Jack replied, reaching out to shake Henrik’s hand.
The Eastern Front
His conversation with Jack had gone well, and he was glad that they had managed to build something of a friendship. He didn’t want to leave the island without him knowing that Henrik considered him to be a friend. Now, however, he had to see to another friend. Neither of them had received the news about being posted to the Eastern Front well, but he knew that Gerhart had already lost a brother there.
Henrik knocked on the door, then waited. It was not unusual for the man to take his time, and Henrik had always believed that one of the strongest traits of his own personality was his patience.
‘Gerhart? Are you there? I have news.’ There was no reply, but the door rattled slightly in its frame as if the window in the room was open. He knocked again and waited. Perhaps Gerhart had been sleeping, but even that was unusual during the day. He had been known to sleep off a hangover, but as far as he knew Gerhart had not been drinking the night before.
He tried the handle and it turned in his grip. The lock clicked back as the door swung open. There was no sign of him, but there was a strong metallic smell: iron. He walked through the door and turned to look for Gerhart. He stopped dead in his tracks.
Blood coated the white bed sheets and splattered across the wall beyond. The red-brown stains would never completely come out. A Radom pistol lay the other side of the body, fallen as the shot was fired. There was a faint black stain around the pistol. The smell of cordite still hung heavy in the air, despite the open window with its white net curtains blowing softly in the breeze.
The German Nurse Page 25