The German Nurse

by M. J. Hollows

  ‘The thing is, sir.’ Even though he had been practising what he wanted to say, it was still hard to get the words out. ‘The thing is, my father was English. I was born in England, and my mother brought me back to the island a few months after I was born.’

  The inspector stood up, walked around his desk and leant against it. It was as if it was an action designed to put Jack at ease. It didn’t. Jack stayed where he was, still standing to attention, breathing deeply. He wanted to make a good impression, and he didn’t know how the new inspector would react to his request. He was starting to second-guess his decision in coming here.

  ‘And you’re worried that you’ll be on the list?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jack nodded as he spoke, glad that the chief was quick on the uptake.

  ‘I see. Yes, I can understand why that might be playing on your mind. It cannot have escaped your attention, Sergeant, that a number of the local police force are English born. They are just as likely to be on the Germans’ list as you are. It’s a concern, indeed.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Most of the other English members of the police force were now in a prison somewhere in France, and Jack had no intention of joining them. Of course, he had no way of knowing what the chief’s opinion of the English was. Not everyone on the island had forgiven the British for abandoning them to the Germans. A wave of something rippled through Jack, turning his stomach upside down. ‘My family—’ he started.

  The inspector lifted a hand to stall Jack and nodded his head in what he apparently thought was a consoling way. ‘Let’s keep it professional,’ he said, turning back to his desk. ‘I will have to see what I can do. I certainly can’t imagine losing one of my best officers to such a derisory order from the German hierarchy. I will not allow them to evacuate any of my men to a prisoner of war camp. There are precious few of you left as it is. I will speak to my German counterpart and ensure that this matter is settled.’

  Jack almost collapsed as air rushed into his body. He didn’t realise how long he had been holding his breath. ‘Thank you, sir.’ The words spilled out of his mouth in a tumble, in between deep breaths. The chief didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘And I’ll hear no more of it, Sergeant. This conversation is strictly confidential, you understand?’

  ‘Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Thank me by doing your duty to the best of your ability, Sergeant, and keeping the Germans off our backs. I trust that will be all?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Jack threw another salute and wrenched the door open. Despite his relief, he couldn’t have taken himself out of that room any quicker. It was another crisis averted, but how long would it be before the next one? The Germans were getting closer and closer to him and Johanna, and Jack knew that the occupation was only ever going to end up one way.

  They had all been fooling themselves that the Germans would come and go. But an occupation was exactly that, the Germans wanted the islands for themselves, and it was only ever going to end in one way. They were here to stay, and they would get rid of the Islanders sooner or later.

  Chapter 34

  25 December 1942

  Christmas under German occupation had long since stopped being something to look forward to and the third was no better than the previous two. Jack thought about getting a present for Johanna, but there was nothing left on the island that was worth buying. He had tried to barter some extra food from his colleagues in exchange for taking on more shifts, but understandably no one had been interested. He felt guilty that he couldn’t provide for his family, and idly wondered what it must be like for those with children.

  He had stopped at Johanna’s flat on his way home from work, as he often did. She had got better at pretending to celebrate Christmas over the last couple of years and had even put some decorations in her windows, made from small bits of spare paper cut into patterns of holly and various other shapes. She had kissed him on the lips when he had got there, holding the moment for as long as possible, before she rushed back into the room.

  ‘Here,’ she said, passing him a large matchbox. Jack was just as surprised as his voice sounded.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, turning it around in his hands and trying to guess.

  ‘Something in return for your gift two years ago.’ She kept the small wooden horse he had given her on her person at all times, and he wondered if anyone ever asked questions about it. ‘Open it and see.’

  He slid the compartment out of the matchbox. Inside was a small circuit with a couple of cables sticking out. ‘What is it?’ he asked again, feeling his face pulled into a confused frown.

  She took it from him and adjusted the cables. ‘It’s a crystal radio set,’ she said. ‘It’s not very powerful but on good days you should be able to hear the BBC broadcasts. I thought that your mother might like it.’

  ‘It’s wonderful, but how did you—?’

  ‘One of the workers at the hospital showed me how. Speaking of which.’ She fetched another package from the table. ‘I asked around and managed to get a few extra rations. For you know who.’

  Jack had told Johanna about the two Operation Todt workers he had rescued. He had expected her to be angry, but she had told him how proud she was of him. They didn’t have much food to go around for themselves, so it was a great help to be given something to support those even less fortunate.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. He would take it up to them later that day.

  Jack wrapped up the few items in some newspaper, first folding them one way then another, trying to make it appear as if he wasn’t carrying anything like food. Too many questions would be asked if anyone saw him with a mysterious package. After the police thefts people would wonder where he had got it from. He said goodbye to Johanna, returning her long kiss from before. She had been asked to work at the hospital over Christmas so that others could see their families. He would see her again when Christmas was over.

  *

  He walked up to his house as he had done many times before, but for some reason he stopped at the front door. It was closed, but it felt different, as if there was a dark cloud hanging over the place. He put it down to his imagination playing tricks on him, making him think the worst.

  He pushed open the door and inside the house was dark. Perhaps that was what had caused his unease. He couldn’t remember a time there hadn’t been some kind of light in the house, either in his grandparents’ room or the living room where his mother would usually be sitting, knitting or reading the newspaper. He had half expected to hear the sound of the wireless blaring out for all to hear as if his mother was deaf. Something about the volume of it gave her comfort; it was company when he wasn’t there. Even still, she often carried on listening to it at volume even when he had come home, absorbed by whatever was being broadcast. But that was impossible now, at least until he gave her Johanna’s gift.

  There was no sound from the living room, not even her breathing or humming to herself. He thought about calling for her but maybe she had gone to bed with a headache or something. He turned the corner, peered through the doorway. A shape was slumped against the foot of the chair, sprawled across the floor.

  ‘What have you done?’ The words escaped his lips without him knowing. His mother had tried things before, but they had only been half-hearted efforts, a cry for attention or a moment of darkest despair. He rushed to where she was lying against the chair and fell to his knees. He placed a hand against her cheek, but there was no movement. She wasn’t breathing. There wasn’t even a shallow motion of her chest as he had seen many times before when he had checked just to make sure. There was no movement at all. A feeling of panic welled up inside him, but he pushed it away, trying to force his training to the forefront of his brain. He had to be objective. Follow his training. What would he do if it was someone else? He checked her airway to see if there was anything blocking it. There was nothing there.

  She had taken something, something that had slowed her breathing and caused this. He didn’t care whe
re she had got it from, only that he had to stop it. He pulled her arm up and clamped his fingers against her wrist, feeling for a pulse. A bottle rolled away from her hand and under the chair. No matter how hard he pressed, there was nothing there. He pulled her closer, willing her to take a breath and the smell of her was strong in his mouth. It had been a reassuring scent that he had known since he was little, the smell of cleaning soap and love. She hung limply in his arms and he realised for the first time that tears were running down his cheeks. The only noise he made was a faint pleading sound that he had no control over. He thought about phoning the doctor, but it was too late, and he couldn’t leave her.

  He had always known that it would catch up with her one day. He had just hoped he could put it off as long as possible. She had never really talked about death, and like all children he had hoped that his mother was invulnerable. She had always been there, through school, through growing up and becoming a policeman, and then the war. Now she was gone and he couldn’t think of anything else. The thought that he would never be able to speak to her again brought another wave of tears. He knelt there for some time, the only sound his own ragged breathing.

  He knew he was in shock, but that was the only thing that made sense in his cluttered mind as it went from one thought to the other. He clutched at his mother as if holding her would make everything all right again. There had to be some kind of help, something someone could do, but how could they? He was too late, always too late. His mind warred with itself as guilt and anger fought for control.

  He heard a gasp from the door. It could only have been Johanna. He must have forgotten something at her apartment. It was strange that he could think so clearly about such mundane things at a time like this, yet when he tried to …

  She scrambled to her knees beside him, but he didn’t really register anything other than noise. He knew that she was talking to him, but none of the words made sense. She reached for his mother’s arm. He was limp and numb, completely without control. She threw her arms around him, making soothing sounds as she did so. The corner of his mind that was still functioning realised that he would need Johanna now more than ever. She was the island he had built his life on.

  *

  27 December 1942

  The evacuees arrived at the Gaumont cinema each with a small suitcase of whatever belongings they still possessed, forming lines and small pockets of people standing together, waiting for the inevitable. It struck Jack that but for a small incident of fate he too would be part of the massed gathering.

  When the time came, he watched them heading down to the harbour past the White Rock and towards the merchant boat that rocked in the swell of the water. Wind whipped around the harbour, making it difficult for many to walk against the headwind. The German soldiers who waited by the pier checked each bag with a cursory look, throwing some of the belongings aside into piles that other Islanders would no doubt collect later, then ordered the men, women, and children to board. Jack heard one soldier apologise to a couple who were clutching each other as if trying to keep warm. As he watched, all he wished for was that there was something he could do to help them, something he could do to prevent eight hundred and fifty English residents of the island from being shipped to the continent.

  The Germans didn’t use their own Kriegsmarine ships, relying on merchant shipping to do their deeds for them, just as they relied on the local police. The mail boats and coal ships were moored up at the end of the pier in the White Rock, and the evacuees were marched down to them in narrow lines.

  Jack wasn’t the only one there to see the evacuees off. Islanders had come to the harbour, in ones or twos at first, then in larger groups. Many of them helped the evacuees with their bags, or provided them with support against the wind, where others sang songs of solidarity. Some of the German soldiers looked embarrassed at what they were doing, where others looked angry that their work was being interrupted. Should any of them choose to make trouble with the Islanders Jack was ready to step in, but so far they had simply glared from their posts.

  Jack stood there by himself. He was numb, the events of the past few years finally taking their toll on him. He thought he should have been in the line of evacuees, maybe then he could do something to protect them, but so far fate had chosen that he should only pay witness to their suffering.

  One of the soldiers marched over to Jack, a frown clearly visible under the line of his steel helmet. ‘What do you want?’ he asked in perfectly good English, singling Jack out from the crowd.

  ‘I’m a policeman,’ he said, showing his identification. ‘I’m just making sure there’s no trouble.’ It was a lie, but only a small one. He couldn’t exactly describe himself as being curious – that wasn’t true either – but a part of him wanted to see what was happening with his own eyes. He knew it was part of the grieving process, forcing himself to witness pain, to see if he could still feel anything.

  ‘Well, you’re not needed. Go find some drunks to round up.’

  ‘I have orders.’ Jack’s voice was pathetic, and he cringed as he heard it.

  ‘Do you want to end up on the boat with them?’ The soldier gestured over his shoulder with a thumb. Jack shook his head, without taking his eyes off the evacuees. In truth he had no idea where they were going, but none of the stories about the camps were particularly encouraging. His stomach lurched every time he thought of the possibilities, proving that indeed he could still feel something for these people. Only a few had ever returned to the island from captivity in Europe and even they were irrevocably changed. None of them had talked about their struggles, but they all had a haunted look deep in their eyes.

  ‘Go on,’ the German prompted again. ‘Get lost!’

  Jack turned and spotted a woman in the crowd carrying a small child in her arms. Her blonde hair was recognisable even though her habitual smile was pulled down into a deep frown. ‘Maddy?’ Jack called after her as she headed towards the row of people boarding the boats. ‘Madeleine!’

  She turned at the sound of his voice and a smile faltered on her face. ‘Jack Godwin, are you a sight for sore eyes.’

  He felt guilty that he hadn’t seen her since that day in the department store over two years ago now; he had never plucked up the courage to go back and buy the shoes for Johanna, and life had got in the way. That was the way of things in this strange world.

  Maddy had changed as much as they all had in the past years, her face lined, thinner and older now. The babe in her arms must have been about eighteen months old.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, reaching out for her.

  She looked down at her child, then back up at Jack. ‘My parents were English’ she said, gesturing at the older couple ahead of her. ‘And they don’t want us here anymore.’

  ‘Your daughter?’ Jack asked. ‘They can’t.’

  ‘Her father was English too. He was a soldier, remember? For some reason we’re a problem to them.’

  The soldier had caught up with Jack. He growled something at him in German, then switched to English. ‘I told you to get lost,’ he barked.

  Maddy held out a hand for Jack and the tips of their fingers brushed against each other. ‘Stay safe, Jack Godwin,’ she said as the soldiers dragged her onto the ship. Jack held his hands up to the German, signalling he meant no harm, and backed off. From a safe distance he watched those boats as they sailed off into the horizon, wondering what would happen to the civilian prisoners on board.

  1943

  Chapter 35

  January 1943

  To say the winter was harsh would be to understate it. It wasn’t just because of the weather, which came and went, providing at least some variation to daily life. It was the increasingly desperate situation. Under more than two years of German occupation life on the island had steadily declined. They had been rationing for some time now, but even that had become difficult. Even those who grew their own food were struggling. Jack had no such option; he relied on the rations like everyone
else. At least now, there was only him to think about at home.

  That was the other problem. He had never felt so alone in his entire life. He sat in the living room of what was now his house, looking out of the window. Occasionally he would glance at his mother’s empty chair, but he didn’t dare sit in it. He wanted to keep things as normal as possible, to deny the change. He had asked Johanna to move in with him and she had agreed. Whether it was just so she could keep an eye on him or not he wasn’t sure, but the house did not yet feel like she lived there. When she was at work he spent his time sitting there in a daze, wondering what life could have been like if the Germans hadn’t come.

  Outside his house, it was quieter than usual. Either people’s work had dried up, or they were too scared to go out with the Germans around. Jack knew how they felt. He did not want to see what had become of the island, but neither did he want to stay inside in the empty house. So he stayed in a sort of limbo near the window, looking out at the world and trying to avoid looking back into the emptiness. He knew he had responsibilities, but they drifted at the edge of his consciousness, never quite realised.

  Every so often he saw someone walk past and he stared after them. He longed to talk to them but couldn’t bring himself to run out and speak to them. What would he say? He had no words for what was happening, only the constant drone of his mind trying to process his feelings.

  The clock on the other side of the room clicked and clicked, filling his mind with the infernal passage of time. Because it had belonged to his grandfather, he had not yet broken it up for firewood, but as the ticking continued he strongly considered it. With it would go a connection to his grandfather and he wasn’t yet prepared to take that step. Eventually it dinged, signalling the hour. He was due to start the day shift soon and he would need to make his way to the police station.