Kitabı oxu: «The German Nurse»
Also by M. J. Hollows
Goodbye For Now
The German Nurse
M. J. HOLLOWS
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020
Copyright © M. J. Hollows
M. J. Hollows asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © November 2020 ISBN: 9780008386979
Version: 2020-10-16
Table of Contents
Cover
Also by M. J. Hollows
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
1940
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Lifeboats
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
1941
Chapter 15
The Boys
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Defiance
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
1942
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
The Eastern Front
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
1943
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
HMS Limbourne
1944
Chapter 38
The Island
1945
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Historical Note
Acknowledgments
Extract
Dear Reader …
Keep Reading …
About the Publisher
For Marian, my number-one fan, & for Geoff, the only level-ten G.
Prologue
12 February 1943
It had been a terrible mistake and Jack wouldn’t make it in time. His boots pounded on the dry earth as he sprinted up the path, thumping with each footfall. He hadn’t had time to collect his uniform, and his civilian clothes hung loosely on him, the ankles of his trousers flapping in the cool breeze.
The birds sung sweetly, completely at odds with Jack’s current state of despair. He couldn’t stop running. Even if his lungs gave up his feet would carry on.
There was a crack of a nearby door banging shut against its frame. The town felt almost abandoned in the evening twilight. Lamps lit the hedgerows and facades of houses, casting menacing shadows across the road. The people returning to their homes after a day’s work eyed him warily as he passed. Being caught out after curfew was dangerous.
He was too out of breath to say anything. They weren’t used to seeing someone running and they feared the worst. Even the local police weren’t immune to the curfew the Germans had implemented, not without a pass. He hoped that they were too busy tonight to notice.
He could feel the old Fletcher woman’s eyes on his back, staring out of her front room window. For once he didn’t care what she thought. She could report him if she wanted to – it wouldn’t make any difference now. He was sick of being watched at every turn, by the Germans, by his own colleagues, even by his neighbours.
As he turned a corner, he saw Beth coming the other way. The smile dropped from her lips as he carried on running. He could trust her even less than the others. Not now that she was in love with a German officer. She stopped and turned to watch him go, her blue eyes following him along the road.
The road lowered down, breaking the horizon and giving him a view of St Peter Port and the sea beyond. From this distance he could only make out faint blurs of boats in the harbour, some masts rising above the surrounding buildings like cigars resting on the deep blue sea.
He jumped across a wooden fence and into farmland. He felt a momentary pang of guilt at disturbing the crops, but they were thin and bare anyway, stripped by the occupying forces and sent to the continent. The furrowed ground was dry and hard, rougher on his feet than the road had been, and he almost slipped several times.
They thought they could resist the Germans. They were wrong. He should have listened to the others. Now the occupiers had whittled them down and taken everything from them. Almost.
The soft wilderness turned to town as he kept running. He was almost out of breath, but as he passed the houses on the outskirts of St Peter Port it gave him hope. A ‘V’ scrawled on a nearby wall gave him strength. They were still resisting.
The harbour was down and to his right, through the main streets of St Peter Port. Time was running out, but he wouldn’t give up now. Not while he still had breath in his body. Curtains shifted in houses as he ran past. The sky was darkening, and he was sure he would soon run into a German patrol. So far he had been lucky, but that luck would not last forever. He should never have left Johanna, not when she needed him most. They should have escaped long ago.
What more did he need when he had the beauty of the island, the love of Johanna and his family? Death had come to the island, stalking them in field grey uniform and jackboots. All the place held for him now was horror. How had it finally come to this?
He crossed the road and made his way down a gravel path between houses, stones skittering away as his boots dislodged them. There was a shortcut between the buildings. He no longer had any pretensions of reaching the police station in time. Instead he hoped to head them off at the harbour. He had to stop them, somehow. That was all he kept thinking as he ran. No matter what it took, he couldn’t let the Germans do what they were about to do, take the only thing he had left. Not like this.
The harbour opened up in front of him. The scene he remembered so well from that terrible day the Germans had invaded. It had changed much since then – fortified and bleak, fewer boats bobbed softly in their moorings. He hadn’t stopped running, the breath almost gone from his body, but he pushed himself on, legs burning with the effort. He skidded and changed direction, towards the harbour proper. His attention had been drawn by a pair of lanterns moving along one of the piers that jutted out into the sea. The hum of a motor rose up into the air.
He jumped over a fence and almost slipped on the landing. ‘Halt!’ a German voice shouted from behind him. One of the patrols had spotted him, but he didn’t look back. As he approached the end of the pier he could hear voices, a soft pleading intermingled with clipped and harsh German. He couldn’t make out the words as they boarded a waiting boat. He wanted to shout after them, tell them to stop, but his lungs burned and no sound would come. He realised for the first time how much his heart was thumping in his chest. Feet slipped on the wet pier, and he pitched forward with a clatter. His stomach hit the ground and he only just managed to shield his face with an outstretched arm. The breath was knocked from his lungs. He tried to raise himself up, but something felt wrong. He’d broken something. With a groan he leant on his elbow and looked up.
He was too late. He always knew he would be, but he couldn’t give up hope. Not until now, when he could hear the faint whirring of the boat’s engine as it pushed away from the harbour. Even if he jumped in the icy water to follow her, he would not make it in time. Plunging to his death would not bring her back.
The sound of boots rang out along the pier, growing closer by the second, as he stared into the darkness. All he could see was the faint light of a lantern illuminating the boat as it rose and fell in the water, moving away from the harbour. There were a few silhouettes on board, some wearing the distinctive steel helmet of the Wehrmacht. He could just about make out a shape in between them, scrabbling towards the back of the boat. Was it a woman? A hand reached out to the shore, then disappeared into the darkness.
1940
Chapter 1
19 June 1940
Guernsey was beautiful in the summer: the rolling green fields, the vivid blue sea. It was what drew most people here, taking the boat from Weymouth, or a short flight across the Channel. It was a perfect spot for a holiday, but fewer people were visiting by the day, since the British Government had declared war on Germany. Far closer still was the coast of France, visible on the horizon to the south of the island.
The beauty was the only thing Jack could think about as he left the house he shared with his mother and grandparents. His mother’s voice still resonated in his ears, speaking those hard and damning words.
‘Don’t make the same mistakes I made. Not with that woman! Jack? Jack?!’
He caught the door before it slammed shut, then let it click softly against the wooden frame. He didn’t want to exacerbate things and draw the neighbours’ attention. Taking a deep breath, he tried to forget his mother’s words and stepped away from the house. The further away he was from there, the less it would play on his thoughts. It was a fine June day, bright blue sky and barely a cloud in sight, and his mother’s mood couldn’t change that. It would take something far worse, and even though war was brewing on the horizon, it hadn’t reached them yet. Who knew if it even would?
Their house was typical of the buildings on George Street at the edge of St Peter Port, built from a stone that gave it a mottled, irregular look, and roofed in grey slate tiles. Some of the houses in the terrace were plastered and painted white, but Jack’s grandparents had left theirs as natural as possible, less difficult to maintain and still impressive. They had once owned a farmhouse, as they never grew tired of telling him, but as his grandfather’s health had deteriorated they had moved closer to the town.
He had been a great man with a booming laugh, always telling stories and like a father to Jack, but now he was a gaunt man almost always confined to his bed. The row of houses lined the way down to the harbour, and Jack knew every occupant by name. He stood for a moment looking at the navy-blue-painted door and wondering if his mother would follow him after their argument.
He and his mother had argued a lot more recently, but he knew deep down that she was only concerned. She meant well, but sometimes she didn’t think before speaking. Like everyone, she was worried about what might happen to them. The ever-looming shadow of war seemed to grow closer every day. She couldn’t forget the last war, how it had affected them all, and it had affected her more than most.
He turned and picked up his bicycle from the wall; he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry. He wished he had time to go and see Johanna. Seeing her would cheer him up.
The sun beat down and he began to sweat. His clothes were close and hot, and it would be even worse when he put on his uniform at the police station. But it gave him a sense of pride to wear it, a sign that even in his short life he had already accomplished something many others could only dream of.
People were going about their business as usual in the morning, heading to work at the shops and eateries, fishermen coming back from overnight hauls, and he greeted them with a smile and a nod as he cycled past. They liked seeing their local policeman on the streets, looking after them, especially in these dark times when everyone was nervous and never far from fear. He was here for them. He was a public servant, no more, no less. He had dedicated his life to helping other people, and no matter what happened he would never forget that.
*
Jack entered the police station and the hot summer sun was immediately blocked out. There was always a musty, damp smell to the interior, as if it had been built on top of some sort of stream. It was muggy and even the collar of his linen shirt chafed at his neck.
‘Morning,’ William – the sergeant on the desk – called, looking up from some paperwork. ‘You’ve heard then? They’re in the briefing room.’
‘Heard what?’ Jack leant on the other side of the desk, waiting for the sergeant to explain. Normally the pair of them only exchanged pleasantries, but there was a look in William’s eyes that Jack couldn’t quite describe, like he was staring right through him.
‘The chief’s called everyone in,’ he said a moment later. ‘Something big’s happening. I thought you’d got the telephone call. You’d better hurry.’
Jack nodded and headed through the main doors and into their changing room. He tried to spend as little time in the station as possible, preferring the wide-open grasslands of the island. He asked for patrol shifts that took him on the long walks that many of his colleagues would rather avoid.
Jack had heard nothing of the meeting that William had mentioned and it pulled at his imagination, as he folded his clothes into a cupboard. It could be anything, but his mind immediately thought the worst. Some hoped the war would stall far away in France like the last one, but many still worried. They wondered what to do, some leaving the island already and others stockpiling food and supplies. Even the soldiers had no idea. He thought of them as he pulled his uniform on. Their fear must be worse than the Islanders, not knowing when they would be called to fight.
The newspapers had reported on the happenings in mainland Europe, and every time Jack thought of it he could feel a tightening in his chest. No matter how often he told himself to be calm, that everything would be all right in the end, he couldn’t ignore that indefinable feeling of dread.
Fully uniformed, Jack pushed open the door of the briefing room. He was immediately hit with the smell of cigarette smoke and body odour. The room was dark, with no natural light, only the faint glow of the kerosene lamps. The building only had electric lighting upstairs.
The room was full, seeming to contain the entirety of Guernsey’s police force, all thirty-three men.
‘Glad you could join us, Constable Godwin,’ a deep voice said. The chief officer didn’t even bother to look at Jack as he leant against the wall at the back. The chief’s voice was thick and he cleared it, passing the phlegm into a white cotton handkerchief that he kept in his breast pocket. ‘Well,’ he continued. ‘Now that everyone is here we can begin.’ He picked up a few pieces of paper from his desk and shuffled them, apparently looking for something in particular. He fumbled with his glasses. ‘The next few days are going to be incredibly difficult for us,’ he said, fixing each of them with a look before moving on. ‘The news we’ve all been anticipating has finally arrived. The envoy returned from the mainland this morning.’
There was a slight shift in the room as the local policemen objected to the description of England as the mainland. Jack often made the same mistake, treating Guernsey as an extension of England when most of the locals thought of themselves as their own country. The chief didn’t seem to notice as he continued.
‘The Prime Minister, Mr Churchill, has ordered the withdrawal of all military forces on the island,’ he said, looking them all in the eye one after the other again, letting the implication of his words settle in. ‘The British Government have decided that the islands are not worth the resources needed to defend them.’
There was a gasp from the assembled policemen. They glanced at each other, looking for reassurance. ‘Does it really say that, sir?’ someone asked amongst the mutterings.
‘Not explicitly, but that’s not the point. We’ve often been on our own. I don’t see this as any different. We all have our jobs to do. We’ve also been asked to assist in whatever way necessary, to expedite their withdrawal from the island. There is expected to be a panic when the Islanders find out the army is leaving, and many will want to travel to the mainland. The states want this to be organised as efficiently as possible, and the press is already preparing to circulate the details in today’s papers.’
He raised a copy of the Star. ‘EVACUATION,’ it read. ‘ALL CHILDREN TO BE SENT TO MAINLAND TOMORROW. WHOLE BAILIWICK TO BE DEMILITARISED.’ By comparison the Guernsey Evening Press had a more measured account of how the evacuation was going to be conducted. There was a sigh from someone to Jack’s right. ‘They’re abandoning us and we’ve gotta help them do it? Fantastic.’
‘Less of that, Sergeant.’ The chief officer fixed Sergeant Honfleur with a pointed stare over the top of his glasses. ‘We’ve all had to follow orders we didn’t agree with before; this is no different.’
Jack only knew some of the soldiers by name, Henry and the others, and they were part of the local militia that had now been disbanded. Some of them had gone with the army to enlist in England and he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that they were leaving them behind. The Islanders had known the war would come for them sometime, but the forces that were stationed here were supposed to be for their protection.
‘What now, sir?’ the sergeant asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against a desk. The atmosphere was tense and the policemen shifted in their seats. William played with his watch, and David squashed a cigarette in an ashtray as he lit another.
‘Now, with luck, the lack of armed forces here will mean that even if the Germans get this far, they’ll leave us alone.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right, sir.’
‘Well, we all have our normal work to do and you all have a decision to make. The islands are not defensible. We don’t know whether the Germans will come, but it’s a possibility.’
‘How do we know, sir? What will they want with us? If the islands are indefensible, it’d be the same for them.’
‘Maybe they’re after your potato patch, sir.’ That was PC David Roussel, a grin stretched across his face. They all laughed, lowering the tension in the room, but it was cut short by a glare from the chief.
‘The states have appealed to the government to mount an evacuation.’
There was another murmur around the room, and Jack looked across at David who shrugged in response. The chief cleared his throat again. ‘They’ve agreed,’ he said. ‘But those wanting to leave have to be ready immediately. I’ve just received a telegram. The boats for the children are coming tomorrow. Any child who needs evacuating to England has to be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. The first boats will arrive at two-thirty in the morning. Children of school age and under can register to be taken to a reception centre on the mainland.’
‘What about their parents, sir?’
There were parents in the room, and they sat up straighter than before. He shuffled through the notices again, then finding the one he wanted he pushed the glasses up on his nose and took a closer look. ‘Anyone wishing to be evacuated will have to register with the authorities and wait to see if there is enough room on the boats. There is no guarantee that everyone will be evacuated, except for the children.
‘Those men wishing to join the armed forces on arrival in England may also register.’
He dropped the papers to his desk and looked at them over the rim of his glasses.
‘Now, as honourable a decision it may be to go and join up in England, let us not forget the people whom we serve here. If you all go, what am I to do then? Even if the Germans don’t come there will be anarchy on the island. Please consider that before making your decision. I expect every man to do his duty and continue in service of the island. If you leave, there will be no job to return to.’
There was a general hubbub as the policemen talked amongst themselves. The islands had been conquered a long time ago when the English had taken them from the French. It didn’t mean that it would happen again. Jack couldn’t imagine it. The islands were peaceful. If they didn’t fight the Germans then maybe they could just get on with their lives in peace. Jack wouldn’t leave anyway. He needed to be here. His mother had no one else, except his grandparents, and he had to look after them as well. They all relied on him. Then there was Johanna.
The chief cleared his throat. ‘Dismissed,’ he said. ‘Get to work.’
The chief came over to Jack as the others were leaving and pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. Through them his eyes were large and beady. They reminded Jack of an insect, and he fought a smile that threatened to turn the corner of his lips. Smirking at his superior officer wasn’t a good way to start the day, no more than arguing with his mother.
‘I remember your thoughts on war, but surely you aren’t against helping these chaps get on their boats, are you?’
Jack didn’t say anything. A few misplaced comments from Jack in the past and the man had assumed so much. He had learnt since then that it was easier to let him talk. The chief liked the sound of his own voice. ‘We all have to do things we don’t like in the line of duty. I have a special request of you, Jack.’
‘Yes, sir?’ he asked, already dreading what it might be.
‘I want you ready first thing in the morning. On your way in, check on the evacuation of the children; make sure they have everything they need and that no one is causing trouble.’
‘Yes, sir.’ It wasn’t the duty he had been expecting, but it could have been a lot worse.
‘Good. Then I want you to be the first one down at the harbour. You and your colleagues will erect barricades to ensure that only those who are registered can board. We have to be careful – I have a bad feeling about this.’
It was true, things were only going to get worse as the tension on the island rose and people panicked. The chief nodded over his glasses and left Jack to his thoughts. He would need a good night’s sleep, but he still had a whole day of work ahead. He sighed and went to find the sergeant to enquire about his duties.
*
After the briefing it had been a quiet day, which seemed to drag on into eternity as Jack patrolled the island, keeping an eye out for any trouble and helping with menial tasks when he had nothing else to occupy him. Many had been busy making preparations for the evacuation as word had spread quickly. Finally, later that evening, he returned home, ready for a good night’s sleep. His legs ached and his feet were sore from standing all day, something that he thought he would never get used to. He didn’t know why the boats had to come so early, but then he never really understood the methods of government. Leaving the island defenceless didn’t seem right, but he had to believe they knew what they were doing, otherwise he might as well just throw his uniform away. He had worked so hard to get that uniform in the first place; he wasn’t going to give it up now.
His way home took him past the town hall, which had been turned into a registration office for the evacuation. Jack had been past earlier in the day while they were preparing and now there was a long queue around the building. It moved slowly, but the tension was clear as people stood closer to each other than they would do otherwise, rushing forward every time a gap opened. Some groups chatted quietly; others stood in silence.
There was a scuffle between two men, and one of them was knocked to the ground. ‘I was here first,’ the standing man shouted, moving closer to his victim and pulling back a foot to strike. There was a gasp from the surrounding crowd, a quick intake of air as they recognised Jack, even out of uniform. The attacker hesitated, then reached out a hand to help his victim up. The other man refused and went to stand further back in the queue as his attacker eyed Jack warily. The knuckles of his right hand were grazed and pinpricks of blood stood out. Jack made a mental note to check on the man later, in case he caused any more trouble.
He nodded at the man, then worked his way around to the front of the queue, to see a man come back out of the door to the registration office, pulling his wife behind him. He didn’t see Jack as he bumped into him and pushed his way past without so much as a ‘sorry’. Given the stress that people were feeling, he decided to let it go. People in the queue looked after him, their eyes wide.
He flashed them a smile. ‘Good evening,’ he said, touching the brim of his hat. No one paid him any notice, but his smile didn’t falter.
A woman appeared around the corner, walking at pace. She wore a light beige summer dress, which fluttered in the breeze, and a matching hat. It was a second or two before he fully recognised her, as he was lost in his own thoughts. ‘Johanna,’ he breathed, before stepping aside to make sure he was in her path.
She almost walked around him, shaking her head, before looking up and stopping in her tracks. ‘Jack?’ she asked, in the familiar way she said his name. Jacques. He loved the way she said it, with the soft ‘J’ much closer to the French. ‘What are you doing here?’
She reached out a hand and rested it on the crook of his arm, and smiled.
‘I was on my way home.’ He smiled back at her, stroking her hand. ‘I could ask you the same?’
‘Me? Bah!’ She snorted, remembering herself. ‘I joined this queue to see if they would take us to England. But they said no and called me an “enemy alien”. An enemy indeed! First they lock me up, now when they release me, this. What harm could I possibly do to their precious country? We have the same enemies! But they treat me like an enemy, just because I’m German. They wouldn’t even let me work as a nurse, despite my training.’
Her cheeks were red and she shook her head, letting go of his arm. When the war had started the states had not been sure what to do with foreigners living on the island, and when the Germans were getting closer to the islands they had locked up all the Germans in case they were spies. Johanna had only just got out. Jack looked around them and caught the eye of several in the queue watching their conversation. Without thinking he took a hold of Johanna’s arm and pulled her gently along the street, down an alley between a pair of buildings, out of view and earshot.
‘We’re best talking here,’ he said. ‘Who knows who’s listening?’
‘Why does it matter?’ she asked, looking up at him.
‘These people are worried.’ He gestured back the way they had come. ‘They don’t know what to do and they don’t know what will happen. If we’re not careful their worry may become anger.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, a frown crossing her brow. It was that look that had first attracted him to her, the look of a furious intelligence. The curls of her auburn hair bounced as she shook her head. ‘Why can’t we go as well?’
He sighed. It wasn’t that the question was a bad one, he just didn’t know what to say. In a perfect world they could just live out their lives on the island in peace. He took hold of her hand. He wanted to tell her he would run away with her, that he would always protect her, but where would they go? Europe was at war, and she wasn’t allowed into Britain.
‘There are conditions that need to be met before someone can register,’ he said at long last. ‘There’s not enough room in the boats for everyone. It’s only for parents who wish to accompany their children, and even then, I’m not sure they can guarantee space. And foreign nationals aren’t being allowed into the country right now.’
‘So they expect me to stay here?’ She struggled her hand out of his grip and paced across to the other side of the alley. She leant against a wall, her back on the painted stone, and closed her eyes. ‘What happens when the Germans come? I’ve already run from them once. What next? What if they find out I’m a Jew?’
Again, he didn’t have the answer, but based on her body language he didn’t think that she expected one. He moved closer to her, careful not to startle her. ‘We don’t know if they will come,’ he said. ‘The states are hoping that they will just avoid us, especially when the army leaves. Besides, I want to stay here. I don’t want us to go anywhere.’
‘You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen, Jack.’ It almost felt like an accusation, like somehow because he hadn’t been there he couldn’t possibly understand what she was thinking or feeling. She was probably right, but if she didn’t confide in him, then how could he ever understand? She had mentioned her past, but had refused to say more when he asked. She didn’t want to talk about it, but how was he supposed to understand her if she didn’t? He often wondered what had happened to her in Germany, and he had heard plenty of rumours, but she would not speak of it.
‘They won’t stop at the French coast,’ she said, seeing his hesitance. There were tears at the corners of her eyes.
‘What if they don’t?’ he asked. ‘We can’t worry about that now. We have to take each day as it comes. They are just as likely to leave us alone. What need do they have of the islands?’
‘You never worry. How can you be so calm, Jack? Teach me.’ She reached out a hand to him as if beckoning, and he took a step closer. He intertwined his fingers with hers and thought about pulling her into an embrace, but stopped.
‘When I was old enough to understand that my father had died, I was angry,’ he said, his voice a soft whisper. ‘It took me a long time to realise there was nothing I could have done.’
The town hall bell suddenly struck, ringing out across St Peter Port. It was getting late. He screwed his eyes shut, feeling suddenly weary.
‘I have to go,’ he said with a sigh. ‘To get some sleep before the morning. The boats are coming at two-thirty in the morning, but the attorney general has managed to persuade them to delay boarding until six.’
Johanna let go of his hand and let out a deep breath. He tried to take hold of her again, but she pushed herself away from the wall and walked towards the end of the alley.
‘Where are you going?’ Jack called after her.
‘To the hotel,’ she shouted back over her shoulder. ‘They need volunteers. At least I can be useful!’ Johanna walked away, leaving him alone in the side street.
Chapter 2
20 June 1940
Jack awoke with a start, the faint light of morning framing his curtains but failing to give a sense of time. The dream he had been having disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and a trickle of sweat ran between his shoulder blades. The anger he had felt upon waking subsided, almost forgotten. He knew it was aimed inward, but he couldn’t remember why he had been angry with himself. He pulled the alarm clock off the side of his bed, noting that it was roughly five minutes before he had set it to go off. As usual it felt worse waking up earlier than intended, even though the extra five minutes wouldn’t have made any difference.
He dragged himself out of the bed, barely sitting up as he did so. His sheets had been kicked to the floor during the few hours of unbearably hot sleep he had managed to grab. He pulled on some clothes, not caring that he had worn them the day before. It didn’t matter anyway, as he would head to the police station to collect his uniform before going on duty. First he wanted to see Johanna, and she wouldn’t care what he was wearing. He wasn’t happy with the way they had left things the previous evening. He needed to speak to her, to assure her that he wanted her here, that he would do everything in his power to care for her.
Jack climbed down the stairs, careful with each step. He knew the creaks and groans, but sometimes an unexpected noise would betray him. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he could just make out the faint murmur of his grandparents either talking, or snoring in their room, and he was careful not to disturb them. His mother would likely already be stirring; she didn’t sleep well and it was even worse in the summer heat. She was prone to night terrors, all her fears playing through her mind while she tried to sleep. He didn’t have time to check on her, especially if he wanted to find Johanna before work. The front door clicked softly open as he turned the handle. He picked up his boots with one hand, thumb and finger clasping them together, so that he could put them on outdoors.
As soon as he was outside a gust of wind caught the door and its hinges squealed as it slammed shut behind him. He winced – so much for not disturbing his family. He had been meaning to fix those hinges for some time, and now they would be angry he had disturbed them. He didn’t have time to worry about it now. The sun was just coming over the horizon, its warm glow slowly spreading across the island, and he had a lot to do before it had fully risen.
*
The Royal Hotel he was looking for was one of the main hotels in St Peter Port, near the harbour with easy access to the ferry and the shops. Prior to the war it had been one of the locations in which people had come to stay when they travelled from the mainland or Europe to experience the beauty of Guernsey. The businesses would surely be struggling to make ends meet, and he wouldn’t be surprised if some of the proprietors joined the evacuation to try to find a new life on the mainland.
Now, the hotel was a scene of furious activity, as staff piled wooden crates that were normally used for groceries by the entrance. At this time of morning it would have been strange to see so many people at work, were it not for the current circumstances. Whether the staff had volunteered to help, or had been forced to by their employers, Jack didn’t know, but he hoped it was the former.
‘I’m looking for Johanna?’ he asked one of the porters as the man dropped another crate on the pile. He waved Jack in the direction of the kitchen behind him and carried on his work without saying a word. As with a number of hotels on the island, the kitchen was in a lower ground floor, accessed by the side of the building allowing easy access for unloading supplies, and there was an almost steady stream of volunteers going back and forth. He dodged one of them as he stepped down the stairs to the main kitchen. There were more people inside working at counters, some in silence, others busy talking amongst themselves. The kitchen smelt strongly of breads, cheeses, and pickles.
He recognised her straight away, even from behind. It was the way she stood taller than everyone else and worked with a practised efficiency. It struck him that it was similar to the very first time he had laid eyes on her. He smiled to himself as he walked up behind her. She was working on her own at one side of the kitchen, away from the comings and goings of the regular staff.
‘Johanna?’ She turned and her smile made him weak at the knees. He had expected her to be angry, but as usual her anger had diminished as quickly as it had come. Her temperament was fiery, and he would not have her any other way. It had taken him a while at first to stop himself thinking that she hated him. In time she had shown him more love and passion than anyone else ever had.
‘Jack,’ she said, still smiling up at him and revealing perfect, white teeth. ‘What are you doing here?’
He stepped closer to her, wanting to take her hands in his, but she was busy working, making sandwiches for the evacuees to take with them on their journey to the mainland.
‘I wanted to say … to say.’ He hesitated despite running the words through his head over and over again on the way to the hotel. The lack of sleep was playing with his mind and he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
‘Yes?’ she asked, looking up again and nodding at him to continue. Her curly hair had been tied up and there were bags under her eyes that spoke of a lack of sleep. The whites of her eyes were red, which made it look as if she had been crying. He second-guessed himself again. Would she really appreciate what he was trying to say? He convinced himself that her smile was genuine; there was a warmth there despite her tiredness.
‘I wanted to say that I don’t want you to leave the island,’ he said, finally blurting out the words in a torrent. ‘I don’t want you to leave, not without me. I want you to stay here with me, and I will give everything to look after you.’
He couldn’t gauge her reaction. Was it shock? His heart thumped heavily in his chest, and he felt sick. He thought about walking away and forgetting everything he had said, to save himself from the embarrassment. But he could never walk away from her; he didn’t have it in him.
‘Oh, Jack,’ she said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. ‘You should have been a poet, not a policeman.’ He wasn’t sure if she was gently mocking him or not. She wiped away the tears with an index finger, then cleaned her hands on a nearby tea towel. ‘The only thing that makes staying on this island bearable is the thought that I will be with you. Even if most people treat me like an enemy. I’ve been through worse.’
She tried to smile again, but another wave of tears took over. As always he wondered what it truly was that had happened to her in Germany, but he knew not to push her on the subject.
With a sudden rush of confidence, he took hold of her, wrapping his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest. It felt natural, as if she was perfectly built to fit into that space, like a piece of a jigsaw. As if God had made them for each other. The smell of her hair was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, breathing her in. ‘I’m going nowhere,’ he said. ‘Not while you’re on the island. When the war is over we’ll be allowed to go to England or wherever we want and live out our lives in peace.’
They stood together like that for a few minutes, savouring the moment. Opening his eyes, he spotted the clock on the wall and gasped. ‘Look at the time!’ he said, loosening his embrace. ‘I have to go.’
Johanna laughed, and let go of him. ‘Bah, you’re always running away from me, Jack Godwin.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking between her and the clock. ‘If I didn’t have to get to work, I would stay. You know I would. I can barely stand to be apart from you.’ He bent down to kiss her, but she pulled away at the last second.
‘Not here. I will see you later. Take this.’ She picked up a brown, rectangular paper bag from the worktop and handed it to him. ‘Tell no one.’
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘It’s a sandwich. I know you won’t have had anything to eat yet.’ They hugged again, briefly, and he left the kitchen, almost running. Late again, he would be in trouble.
*
In the early hours of the morning, the school was dark and forbidding. An uneasy atmosphere rested over it like a black cloud. It was a place for learning, but on this occasion the parents would rather they were kept in the dark. When he had studied there it had been a different time. Parents were already bringing their children to the school, as Jack joined them. They arrived in small groups, sticking together, their short arms reaching up to clutch their parents’ outstretched hands, tighter than they ever had before. Some were going with their children, but for the others, who knew how long they would be separated? None of them could predict how long this war would last, how long it would be before the Germans expended their energy on their enemies’ guns, how long it would take for someone to force them back.
None of them had been given enough time to prepare, or to soften the blow for the children. The shock was still clear in the eyes of most of the people Jack passed as he headed towards the school. He was careful not to be too present as a policeman; he didn’t want to scare the children. More than one parent had a hastily bundled together collection of belongings to send with their children. Some of their cases had clothes poking out of the seams, ragged and fluttering in the wind. It was a sorry, desperate sight.
At the school gates, a group of teachers and other officials were checking documents and admitting those children who had the correct papers. As Jack walked up, a mother was hugging her son, who could have only been four or five years old. The officials, seeing Jack’s uniform, stepped aside to let him pass, but he waited for a moment to see what would happen. He could tell that she was trying her best, but tears threatened to escape the corners of her reddened eyes. Her voice broke. Her son simply stared idly around himself, blissfully ignorant of what was going on. ‘Now, you’re going on a great adventure,’ she said. ‘Once you get there your aunt May will be looking after you for a while.’
She stopped, catching herself again. Jack couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He couldn’t possibly imagine what these parents were going through. How that mother could stand it, he had no idea, but she had put her son’s life ahead of her own, and given the circumstances it was the right thing to do. Had Johanna’s parents gone through the same emotions when she had left her home?
He smiled at one of the teachers, but it was forced. He felt only sadness. Inside the school was a similar scene, one he suspected was duplicated across the island. Hundreds of children were standing around, looking lost. Some stood with one or two parents, but others were on their own and teachers were rounding them up, with smiles plastered on their faces.
‘We’re trying to make sure that there is no panic, Constable,’ a voice said from behind him. He turned to see a middle-aged man, dressed in a cheap brown suit. The man smiled at Jack, but like his own it lacked certainty. ‘As you can imagine,’ he continued, ‘it’s an uphill struggle. It’s why we’re making sure the parents say their goodbyes at the gate.’
He reached out a hand and Jack returned the gesture, receiving a vigorous shake. Jack was taken aback somewhat by the friendliness of the man. He remembered teachers as being sterner and more distant, and the usual reaction to the uniform was wariness.
‘An unenviable task, Headmaster,’ Jack said, nodding. ‘Times are difficult, and we can only do our best.’
‘Wise words, for a young man. If you don’t mind me saying?’
Jack shook his head. It was always nice to receive a compliment, and his teachers had never been that complimentary when he was in school. He didn’t feel that wise. ‘Thank you, but I’m just here to do my job.’
‘Of course. These children need escorting down to the harbour.’ He looked at his wristwatch. ‘The boats will be arriving soon and they won’t have long to get everyone on board. The longer we wait the less chance we have of getting them over to England.’
‘The boats will have to wait until they’re full. We won’t let them leave before they’re ready.’
‘Good luck with that. I’m sure the captains won’t want to wait around too long. Who knows when the Germans will come?’
Jack noted that he had said, ‘when’, not ‘if’.
A teacher looked over at the sound of their raised voices. She was kneeling down to talk to a child, and a frown crossed her face. The headmaster gestured for Jack to step back out into the reception. The early summer morning heat was coming in the front doors. ‘There are buses outside to take the children. We will organise them all, but I would appreciate it if you could escort them.’
‘Of course,’ Jack replied.
Outside the school a number of buses waited, silhouettes in the early morning gloom. The drivers stood by one cab, smoking cigarettes and chatting. A few minutes later the children appeared at the front of the school, in a line two abreast. The headmaster led them from the front, and it reminded Jack of the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin his grandfather had once told him when he was little. The concept of some mysterious figure leading an entire village of children off into the unknown had terrified him ever since.
The children were well behaved as they boarded the buses, either shocked into obedience by events, or encouraged by the teachers and attendant parents. Thankfully, the majority of the children had yet to work out exactly what was happening. That would not last forever. It took some time, but it was going more smoothly than Jack had expected.
*
The harbour was awash with activity. Men shouted orders at each other and soldiers rushed from one area to another making sure that everything was in place. The air stank of brine and salt, fish mingled with the sweat of those at work. Not everyone in the harbour was wearing army-issue khaki, as various merchant ships were either returning from fishing trips or preparing to leave for Britain. The sun had risen above the horizon and lit the scene in its warm glow, making the work that little bit harder for everyone.
As the children climbed off the buses, volunteers attached brown labels to their lapels and led them towards the boats. They were getting more nervous as the strange situation dragged on, young murmurings of concern growing louder. Some mothers had gone against the states’ orders and come to the harbour to see their children off, unable to stay away. Mothers’ tears added to the already salty sea air, and those children who were more aware than others cried, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be put on those horrible little boats that rocked against the tide.
There were queues forming at the ends of the piers, and people shuffled with impatience, waiting for the order to board. Some were being turned away as Jack went to join his colleagues. Whole families sat together on the ground, belongings piled up around them in the sweltering heat. Some had discarded their cars, unable to take them with them. None of them were sure that they would be allowed to leave, and it was clear on their faces.
Not everyone in the harbour was looking for a way to escape. Some were saying goodbye to loved ones who were going with the army, and Jack caught a glimpse of Beth as she said goodbye to her brother, who had been in the militia. Even though he was Jack’s age, Jack knew his sister much better. They had fallen into the same friendship group, and she had always enjoyed bossing him around. On any other day he may have waved and beckoned her over, but not today.
A man propped his bicycle against a nearby wall and walked back up the road, a roll of paper tied up with string in his hand. He disappeared around the corner of a building, heading in the direction of the town hall. Nearby a couple were saying goodbye, pulling close together as the husband looked to board a nearby boat. The man played his hand through the ringlets of her curly brown hair, as he kissed her goodbye, his other hand resting on the hem of her pleated skirt, lingering longer than was strictly appropriate.
Jack longed to pull Johanna into a similar embrace, but he didn’t know when they would get the chance to be alone. They should have been boarding a boat of their own, if only Johanna had been able to leave too. Deep brown eyes bore into his, wide with surprise, and he realised he was staring.
Jack yawned and thought about how much more tired he would be by the time all of this was done. He would sleep the sleep of the dead later. For now, he forced himself forward, one foot after the other.
A couple of his colleagues were manoeuvring a wooden barricade into place along the end of the pier. One of them, an older man, PC Frank Baker, was struggling to lift the crossbeam into the groove cut in a leg, and Jack rushed to help him. ‘Thanks,’ Frank said as they wrestled the beam into place, and he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. ‘This probably won’t help much if this lot get rowdy.’ He threw a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the growing queue. ‘But at least it will make them think twice.’
A man walked past them, carrying three overfilled rucksacks and visibly sweating in the heat. ‘There’s no way he’s getting that lot on a boat,’ Jack said, looking over at his other colleague, Sergeant Honfleur, who nodded and grumbled.
‘Glad you could join us, Godwin. You can man this barricade while we take a break.’
There was a loud crack as a wooden crate was dropped to the ground by two khaki-clad soldiers. Neither of them flinched. The navy’s boats bobbed gently in their moorings as the materiel was taken on board. That both the army and the children were being evacuated at the same time was causing havoc with the harbour, and the men in khaki moved freely past the cordons the police had set up. Jack could see some of the civilians edging closer, looking to take advantage of the lapse.
A soldier with three chevrons stitched on to his sleeve stopped, put down a crate and used the break to stretch his back. He looked over at Jack and nodded. ‘Good thing the weather is calm,’ he said, his accent not from the islands. ‘Or the trip to the mainland with this lot would be hell.’
‘That’s true, but they’ll want to hurry up. They’re getting in the way of the evacuation.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Aye, but it’s not easy mobilising an army, my friend. Especially across the sea. We’ve got a lot to get on board that there navy ship out in the bay.’
‘They must have known this was coming. You could at least leave us something.’
‘Hah, don’t assume anything. We were caught napping during the last war too. Chamberlain didn’t fancy a fight, but now ol’ Churchill’s in charge. And no can do, friend.’ He patted the crate he had been carrying. ‘Can’t leave anything behind that we may need. It’s for your own good. If the Hun do come, you’ll be best off if they think you’re completely unarmed. I know it’s not easy to hear, but that’s how it is.’
‘You’re still abandoning us.’
The other man was silent for a moment, looking out over the sea. He nodded shallowly, before speaking. ‘I can see why you would think that,’ he said. ‘Truth is, I reckon it’s a question of winning or losing the war altogether. If the Germans come here, what can we do to stop them really?’ He waved a hand around the harbour. ‘We could defend bits of the island, but with no navy support we’d soon be overrun. Me and my lads can be put to better use somewhere else.
‘And if we’re not here, at least they won’t come with force. No one will die for a few extra days’ resistance.’
Jack scowled. This man had no choice but to go off and fight somewhere else, but Jack didn’t have to like it. While there was still some hope, they could stop the Germans taking the island.
The other man’s frown broke into a smile. ‘Say what. Come with us. Young lad like you’d do well in khaki.’
Jack shook his head. What else could he say? That he hated war? He surely wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, that was an overly simplistic explanation. It wasn’t war that he hated; it was death. Jack had lost everything as a child, and he had always blamed war for it.
‘I can’t. My family … I’m needed here,’ he said. He would never forgive himself if he left his family to fend for themselves, and he knew that no matter what he said they would never leave the island. This was their home. This was his home.
‘I understand,’ the other man said, lighting a cigarette and offering the packet to Jack who refused. ‘More than you can imagine. It’s why I do what I do. Some of us don’t have families to look after. Some of us fight to protect other people’s families, those who have what we don’t.’ He took a long drag. ‘I don’t blame you for staying. I’d probably do the same if it was my home and I had anyone to stay for. I wish you luck.’ With a grunt he lifted the crate up and trudged off down the pier, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Thanks.’
A boat was pushing off from the harbour, wobbling as a soldier kicked at the mooring. When the boat moved suddenly, he almost fell but was caught by a companion. They laughed it off, but the boat was so overcrowded Jack didn’t fancy their chances of staying dry during the journey. There weren’t enough boats to take them all out to the SS Biarritz in the bay. Jack wondered if he did want to go with them after all, where would he even fit?
A few hours later, Jack watched the last of the boats leave the harbour. The Biarritz was already disappearing around the corner of the bay, the smoke from its chimneys the only blotch on the clear blue sky. There were still some fishing boats moored up in the harbour, but it was a shadow of its former self. The island felt quieter already, except for the soft sobbing coming from behind him as families went home to await their unknown future.
‘À bétaot,’ he said to no one in particular. Goodbye.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
