Neighbours at War, page 7
‘Do sit down and try not to overreact. Let me try to explain a bit better.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t. This is nothing at all like what happened between me and Richard.’ She winced, recalling her hurt at his betrayal, still so raw. ‘I don’t know how much contact you’ve had with officers of the Wehrmacht, Aunty, but it’s not as easy as you might think to refuse an offer from them.’ Realising how that sounded, she added, ‘Although, naturally I would refuse anything I felt might be untoward.’
‘Helen, love. That’s not what I meant, and I hope you know that.’
Helen did. She realised she was upsetting her aunt by her reaction and forced herself to calm down. She sat. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said lowering her voice. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t bear for you, of all people, to think badly of me.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Sylvia reached out to take her arm. ‘My dearest girl, I would never think that of you. The circumstances with Bobby’s father were heartbreaking. All I want for both of you,’ she said, stroking Bobby’s head, ‘is to be safe here, with me. I only meant to advise you.’
Guilt swept through Helen and once again tears threatened to overwhelm her. ‘I know and I feel badly for overreacting. I promise I’ll never do anything to compromise my welfare, or Bobby’s.’
‘I know you won’t, sweetheart.’ Her aunt smiled. ‘Let’s agree to forget this conversation. Shall we go to the kitchen? We could slice a piece of bread each and cut this egg in half. I think we both deserve a tasty treat before our supper, don’t you?’
Chapter Eleven
HELEN
Helen entered the dining room to clear up after breakfast was finished, stopping suddenly when she realised two soldiers were still there, whispering frantically by a far corner. She tried to tidy as quietly as possible and not clatter the crockery or cutlery, hoping they wouldn’t notice her. They were clearly cross about something.
She strained her ears to try and pick up any of the words Peggy had given her. She heard Hauptmann Schneider say ‘Hohlgangsanlage acht.’ It meant nothing to her and she continued tidying. Then she heard him hiss a word she did recognise from the list Peggy had given her, ‘Untermenschen.’
Helen gasped in surprise to hear the word for ‘subhuman’. Peggy had explained that it was how the Nazis saw the Russian enforced workers whom they had brought to the island to work for Organisation Todt building fortifications.
The men stopped talking and without thinking Helen looked over her shoulder at them to see the one she didn’t recognise glare pointedly at Hauptmann Schneider. Helen immediately turned away, tensing.
‘You, there. What are you doing?’
She clenched her teeth, furious with herself for making such a careless mistake. ‘I’m sorry, I caught my fingernail on the edge of the tray,’ she lied. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you. She saw a look of confusion on the Hauptmann’s face and hoped he believed her. ‘Would you rather I finish clearing up later?’ she asked in the most innocent voice she could muster.
Hauptmann Schneider shook his head after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Nein. We leave now.’
She waited for them to go. Listening to their footsteps as they went down the corridor Helen turned back to the messy dresser laden with plates of half-eaten food, her mouth watering at the sight of a piece of bacon that remained on one of the serving dishes. She picked it up and ate it, savouring every salty mouthful as she hurriedly tidied up. She didn’t want to be caught eating their food but was aware that although they still had food coming into the island from France, not much of it reached the locals and hardly anything had much taste anymore.
As she chewed Helen mulled over what she had heard of their furtive conversation. Excited, she realised she finally had something to share with Peggy.
Chapter Twelve
RICHARD
Richard took a deep breath to try and control his anxiety as he stood across the road from Helen’s family home. He had walked her to the Grove Street terrace of Victorian houses many times when they were seeing each other. He wondered how she would react, seeing him on her doorstep after all this time?
He recalled the last time he had seen her in the summer of 1940 and was embarrassed by his immaturity back then. They had spent a blissful day walking on Black Heath before going to Greenwich Park and enjoying a picnic, lazily snoozing in the sunshine for a couple of hours before making their way back to her home.
How was he to know they would bump into his fiancée Felicity as they walked to the Underground station? Not that he should have been surprised when Felicity – who he knew had a malicious streak – had taken off her cotton glove and shown off her engagement ring to Helen before leaning forward and kissing Richard on his cheek. He had been too dumbfounded to speak and simply watched as Felicity linked arms with her friend and strolled away, giving him and Helen a wave over her shoulder.
‘You’re engaged?’ Helen exclaimed, her beautiful grey eyes filling with unshed tears. ‘Richard, how could you? I thought you loved me,’ she said, talking over him as he tried to explain. ‘I assumed we would be getting married.’ She pointed in the direction of the park. ‘I stupidly expected you were leading up to proposing today.’
She had marched off, insisting he didn’t follow her. Not that he had listened, initially. His heart ached as he recalled catching up with her and taking her arm, only for her to snatch it away. ‘Please, let me explain.’
The look of disappointment and deep hurt in her eyes was something he had never been able to dispel. ‘What is there to explain?’ she had asked with a bitter laugh. ‘You are engaged to be married, and not to me. You have lied to me, Richard. And to her.’ She had frowned. ‘Not that she seemed very upset.’ A thought had occurred to her. ‘Or surprised, for that matter.’ She pulled away from him. ‘Why is that, I wonder?’
‘Helen, please,’ he said, desperate to make her understand how much he loved her. ‘It’s not as it seems.’ His hand went to his chest where she had pushed him away from her. ‘Give me time to resolve this. Please. I promise you I will.’
‘No.’ She had turned her back on him.
‘But Helen, I love you.’
She had turned to him, then, tears running down her pretty face, causing his heart to break for the hurt he had caused her. ‘But she is the one wearing your ring, and I’m the one…’
‘I know,’ he had said when she hesitated. He was grateful for the chance to speak again. ‘You’re the one who’s been let down and I never meant that to happen.’
She glared at him, then, with a look of pure fury before bursting into tears. ‘Oh, just leave me alone, will you. You’ve done enough damage.’
He had been so stunned by having to face the truth of his stupidity that when she ran off, he lost her in a crowd. By the time he had gathered his senses and followed her she was gone.
If only he hadn’t decided to give her time to calm down before going to her home and trying to reason with her. If only he had gone straight after Helen and explained that he and Felicity had been childhood sweethearts but he already knew their relationship was over, from that first day he met Helen waiting for her friend outside the cinema. He should have explained right then that he had told Felicity months before that he couldn’t marry her.
Everything would have been fine if he had refused to give Felicity time to come to terms with the end of their engagement, but he had felt too guilty about feeling more deeply for Helen in that first meeting than he had ever done for his fiancée.
He had come to Helen’s house several times after that, only to have the door slammed in his face by her brother or one of her parents and told never to come back. He had written to her time and again since that horrible day but hadn’t received any replies. And then he had joined up.
At least now his leave had finally been granted, and this time he was determined to speak to her, to explain about his engagement with Felicity and that it had finally been ended that day. He exhaled sharply, straightened his cap and crossed the road with as much confidence as he could muster.
His shoulders back, he took a steadying breath and rang the doorbell. He had met her parents and brother a few times and had always got along well with them before he and Helen had fallen out. He couldn’t blame them for being angry on her behalf at the misunderstanding.
The door opened and Helen’s mother stared at him in disbelief. Richard opened his mouth to speak but her expression darkened and she shouted over her shoulder to her husband, ‘Eric, come here, will you.’
‘Mrs Bowman, I’m—’
She raised a hand to stop him. ‘Eric, now.’
This wasn’t going the way he had hoped. They were still angry even after all this time. Disturbed by her reaction, Richard tried to think what to do. ‘Mrs Bowman, I—’
She shook her head and pushed the door to. It wasn’t completely closed, and he heard her footsteps hurrying down the hallway. Unsure whether to leave or wait, his decision was taken from him when the door was flung open and Stephen, Helen’s older brother, stood glaring at him.
‘Is your mother all right?’
‘No, she bloody isn’t.’ He glared with such hatred in his eyes that Richard took a step back. ‘How dare you show your face here? After what you’ve done to my sister.’
‘I was hoping to explain everything to Helen.’
‘What, about you having a fiancée while you were seeing my sister?’
Richard hated confrontation but he had no intention of being put off from seeing Helen this time. ‘I wrote to Helen several times about that,’ he said. ‘and explained that I had broken things off.’ He forced a smile. ‘There’s nothing stopping us being together.’
‘You should have finished things before you started courting my sister.’ Stephen narrowed his eyes. ‘Anyway you’re far too late for explanations.’ Stephen’s eyes slid to Richard’s right sleeve. ‘Sergeant, I see. Well, bully for you.’
Richard felt sick. ‘What do you mean, “too late”? What’s happened?’
Stephen shook his head slowly and looked as if he wanted to throttle him. ‘What happened, Sergeant, is that my younger sister ran off that night, caught the ferry and has been living with our aunt since last summer.’
Richard tried to make sense of what he was being told. A boat? Nausea coursed through him as it dawned on him that the only aunt Helen had ever mentioned was Sylvia and she lived in Jersey.
He grabbed hold of the wall to steady himself. ‘No,’ he whispered, barely able to comprehend the repercussions of what he had done. He swallowed to gain some control. ‘You mean she’s in Jersey?’
Stephen gave a slow clap. ‘The penny’s dropped, I see. Yes, unfortunately that’s exactly where she is. Living on a damn island surrounded by bloody Nazis.’
Richard struggled to contain his senses. What had he done. No wonder Helen’s family had been so angry with him. He tried to think clearly. ‘Do you have her address?’
Stephen shook his head. ‘You really are something else, do you know that?’ Scowling, he added, ‘You can’t just post a letter there, you know.’
‘What about a telegram?’ He tried to calm down before losing control of his emotions as the full impact of her situation and his part in it dawned on him.
‘All I know is that if you don’t leave this property in the next three seconds,’ Stephen sneered, poking Richard in his uniformed chest, ‘I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘Has he gone yet, Stephen?’
Richard heard Mrs Bowman’s tearful voice and knew he had done enough damage to this family. ‘I’m going,’ he said. ‘Please apologise to your parents for me, Stephen. I really am sorry for everything I’ve done.’
‘Just go.’
Crushed, Richard saw how angry Stephen was and turned to leave. He immediately heard the door slam shut behind him.
If only he had gone after her that afternoon. But he hadn’t, and now the woman he loved was living under Nazi rule. He had no idea if there was anything he could do to rectify all that he had done. He had caused her to run away straight into a situation neither of them could have imagined. He decided that he wouldn’t stop searching until he found a way of helping her, somehow.
Chapter Thirteen
HELEN
‘How’s your Aunt Sylvia’s health these days?’ Cook asked when they sat down for their morning break between serving breakfast and preparing lunch.
Helen cupped her mug of tea in her hands despite the heat in the kitchen, soothed by the warmth of the drink. ‘She’s not doing too well, I’m afraid.’ She didn’t like to add that each morning when she went downstairs for breakfast, and each evening when she returned to the house after work, she was anxious that something might have happened to her aunt in her absence. She would give a lot for reassurance that her aunt’s health had fully returned, but she couldn’t fool herself; the reality was that her aunt was much slower these days, even though she did her best to hide it.
‘I can see by your face how worried you are about her,’ Cook said, her voice gentle.
Helen had worried about her aunt many times but hadn’t expected Mrs Jeune to have noticed her concerns, since she was always so busy cooking. ‘It probably doesn’t help that there’s little healthy food available. The doctor said she needs more protein, preferably red meat to help her iron levels, but where are we supposed to find good meat nowadays?’
She heard the panic in her voice and smiled to soften her tone. Her aunt wouldn’t thank her for sharing their private matters with someone who wasn’t family.
‘Can I help?’ Cook asked before being distracted by something at the kitchen door.
Helen turned to see Leutnant Müller standing in the doorway looking sheepish.
‘My apologies. It is nothing.’ He gave a curt nod before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.
‘Well, that was odd,’ Mrs Jeune mused. ‘Then again, some of them can be very strange.’
‘They can,’ Helen said, embarrassed in case he had caught any of their conversation. ‘I shouldn’t go on about Aunty Sylvia.’
The older woman stared at her sagely. ‘It’s perfectly natural you should worry. You had a dreadful shock when she was taken ill and, let’s face it, she is your only relative here.’
Helen was grateful to have someone other than her aunt and two friends to confide in. She knew, too, how lucky she was to have a job where she could occasionally take Bobby with her, and didn’t like to bother Mrs Jeune with her personal problems.
Insisting she was fine, Helen returned to her work, but was glad when the end of the day finally arrived. She removed her apron and dressed Bobby in his hat, woolly mittens and a coat that she realised with dismay was becoming rather too small for him. She had no idea where she might find another, and by the look of things he wasn’t going to be able to wear this one for very much longer.
‘I’ll be off now, Mrs Jeune,’ she said, taking hold of the pram and pushing it towards the kitchen door. ‘Hopefully my aunt or Mrs Hamel will be able to look after Bobby for me tomorrow.’
‘Don’t you fret about him, my girl. He’s a dear little soul and no trouble at all. He brightens up the place. I had noticed he’s getting a little big for that pram of his.’
Helen had been thinking the same thing. ‘I need to find him a pushchair, but I’ve no idea where to look.’ She didn’t add that she couldn’t afford to buy one.
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine for now.’
Helen smiled gratefully. She never used to feel guilty about things before having Bobby, but it amazed her how kind some people could be. She was pushing the pram out of the back door to leave the house when a deep voice called out to her.
‘Frau Bowman.’
She tensed. It was Leutnant Müller. His voice was quiet. Sensing that he had been waiting for her, she felt a chill pass through her.
She turned slowly. ‘Y-Yes?’
She noticed he was holding something wrapped in newspaper.
‘Please,’ he said, his voice hushed. ‘Take this.’ He glanced to his side to check they were still alone.
Helen’s grip on the pram handle tightened. Unsure what to do but aware she daren’t make a scene and draw attention to herself, she waited for him to continue. She looked down at the package he was holding. ‘I don’t think—’
‘Please. Take it.’
‘What is it?’
‘Meat.’
She gasped. ‘I can’t take this, it’s stealing.’ It was her turn to check they weren’t being watched.
‘Nein. No. It is not. This is my food. I asked for it not to be cooked.’
She felt cornered and wished he would leave her alone. He was trying to be kind, but his familiarity intimidated her ‘I don’t understand.’
He looked shamefaced. ‘I hear you speaking to the cook before. About your aunt who is ill,’ he added when she didn’t react.
Helen grimaced. So she had been right to suspect he had overheard her conversation with Mrs Jeune. She struggled to explain her reason for refusing his kind gesture. ‘It doesn’t feel right to take it from you.’ She pictured her aunt, so frail now, and wanted more than anything to grab the package from him and run home with it.
‘I assure you it is acceptable. Your aunt needs this. I have a mother in Germany. I would not wish her to starve.’ He held it out towards her. ‘I must go. Take it. Please.’
She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t about to make a stupid mistake by following her emotions rather than her instincts. ‘I will, but only this time.’
Taking it from him, she tried to think where she might hide it.
He pointed to Bobby’s pram. Then, hearing Hauptmann Schneider shouting at someone from the front door, and not daring to waste any more time, Helen lifted the thin mattress near her son’s feet and quickly shoved the package underneath. With the blankets tucked back in, it was neatly covered. Helen quietly thanked him. ‘I’d better go.’
