by Helen Peters
“Mist … ach, mein Gott … ist kaputt…”
Kaputt.
Broken.
The relief was dizzying. I felt like a balloon that had been tethered to the ground by a lead weight. Now the weight had been cut and I was floating up into the air. I tiptoed out and beckoned the others further away.
“It’s broken,” I whispered, when we were at a safe distance.
“His wireless?” asked Molly, her face tense with anxiety.
“Yes. I heard him swearing, and then he said, ‘Ist kaputt.’ That means ‘It’s broken’ in German.”
“Are you sure it was the wireless that was broken though? Did you see it?”
The balloon burst.
“No,” I said flatly. “I didn’t see it.”
“It must have been his wireless,” said Frank. “What else would be broken?”
“All sorts of things,” said Molly. “He might have masses of other spy equipment in that rucksack. Or it could be something else, nothing to do with his spy equipment.”
“Like his shoelace,” said Frank unhelpfully.
“I tell you what,” said Molly. “We’ll walk up to the barn quietly, so he doesn’t hear us coming. Then we’ll go in together and climb the ladder really quickly. Whatever’s broken, he’ll have to put it away fast, and he probably won’t have time to hide it very well. One of us can keep him talking – I’ll do that – while you look around for a wireless set, Anna. And if we find it, we need to disable it.”
“How?” asked Frank.
“I don’t know,” said Molly. “We’ll just have to think of something.”
We crept across the yard, our plimsolls soundless on the concrete. At the barn door, Molly turned to Frank.
“Act normal,” she mouthed. “Remember, we think he’s an English soldier who wants to see his sick mother.”
She sauntered into the barn.
Something slid across the loft floor. A wireless set? There was no way of knowing. Hay rustled. Was he hiding something?
Molly climbed the ladder quickly. I went next. As my eyes drew level with the loft floor, I saw the man withdraw his hand from a pile of loose hay to the right of him. Was that where he had hidden his radio? Had Molly noticed it too?
Clover was snuggled by his side, purring. That cat had no loyalty.
“Hello, Mr Smith,” said Molly. “Frank’s got your water.”
I reached down and took the jug and glass from Frank. He started to climb up as I poured a glass of water for the man and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.”
He drained the glass in one gulp and held it out to me. I refilled it and set the half-empty jug beside him.
It was horrible, being nice to him, knowing who he really was and what he might be planning to do. I felt like a traitor for simply giving him a glass of water. No. I was a traitor for giving him a glass of water.
He stroked Clover. I felt such a surge of hatred that I had to look at the floor in case he could read my feelings.
“How’s your ankle?” asked Molly.
He pulled a pained face. “Bad. I have tried, but I cannot walk on it at all.”
That was good news. Maybe it was broken. We just had to make sure his wireless was properly broken too.
“We’ll bring you some food later,” said Molly. “We can’t get it at the moment because Mum’s cooking tea, but I can sneak into the larder later and get you some leftovers. Do you like meat pie?”
While Molly kept him in conversation about food and the problems of rationing, I scrutinised the heap of loose hay. It was the obvious place to hide a wireless set.
On his left-hand side lay his rucksack. It was open at the top. It would be good to get a look in there too.
“I wonder if you could find me a map?” he said to Molly. “I need to get to my mother’s village, you see. It is near Whitstable. Are we close to Whitstable? We were not told the place where we were billeted, you see, and it is so hard to tell where one is, with no signposts.”
I glanced at Molly. Did the man really not know where he was? It was quite possible, if he had parachuted down from a plane at night.
“We don’t have any maps, I’m afraid,” said Molly. “I’m not sure how far we are from Whitstable.”
I had a sudden thought. If the man really didn’t know where he was, then we could tell him he was somewhere else. Not somewhere too far away, obviously, but far enough to mislead him.
I grabbed Frank’s hand and squeezed it, hoping he would understand the squeeze as a code to keep quiet. I wished I could make eye contact with Molly, but that would be impossible without the man noticing.
“The nearest town is Cranbrook,” I said, squeezing Frank’s hand harder. Cranbrook was actually about twenty miles away.
Molly flicked a quick glance at me. Then she started to speak, and my stomach clenched in terror. Please don’t ruin it, I prayed. If we blew this chance to mislead him, we’d never have another opportunity.
“This village is called Muddle Green,” she said.
She had understood! Muddle Green was the village where Molly and Frank’s grandparents lived. It was quite close to Cranbrook, but several miles away from Ashcombe.
“Muddle Green,” repeated the man thoughtfully. “Near Cranbrook.”
“And this estate where we live,” said Molly, “and where you were billeted, is called Peasmarsh.”
“Peasmarsh,” repeated the man. I wondered where Molly had got that name from.
“My dad works on the estate,” said Molly. “He’s a carpenter.”
“A carpenter?” said the man. “That is a very interesting job, no?”
He sounded more relaxed than he had done before. My mind went back to the wireless set. The man now thought he had valuable information as to the whereabouts of a huge contingent of British troops. Surely the first thing he would do when he was on his own again would be to try to fix his wireless set and send a message to Germany. And what if the Germans decided to bomb Muddle Green?
Molly was chattering on about her dad’s work on the estate. “He’s just made new doors for all the pigsties. Pigs are the worst, he says. You wouldn’t believe how they bash their doors about. He’s always mending them. They love to perch with their trotters up on the tops of the doors and look out, you see. They’re very curious animals, pigs. But they weigh a ton, and sooner or later the doors break under the strain.”
“I have one more favour to ask,” said the man. “I must write a letter to my mother. I wrote in my last letter that I would be with her today, and when I don’t arrive, she will worry. If I write to her today, would you be able to post the letter?”
“Of course,” said Molly. “We’ll be passing the post box in the morning, when we go to the shop for your food.”
“Thank you,” he said.
He drained his water glass again, and suddenly I had an idea.
“More?” I said.
I reached for the jug. As I picked it up, I purposely tripped over his outstretched leg and collapsed on to the floor, spilling the water into the pile of hay.
Surely that amount of water would destroy a wireless set?
The man let out a howl of fury. He grabbed a handful of dry hay and dropped it on top of the wet stuff, scrabbling around underneath and pulling the soggy hay out. He was clearly trying to wipe up the mess without exposing whatever was underneath it. But as I watched him, he accidentally pushed the hay aside, and I saw.
As he quickly swept hay over the exposed surface, I leaned over to the other side of him and picked up his glass, so he wouldn’t suspect that I’d seen anything.
And also to hide my bitter disappointment. Because what I had seen was not a wet and ruined wireless transmitter.
There was a wireless transmitter underneath that pile of hay, I had no doubt. But even if I’d poured ten jugs of water on it, it wouldn’t have been destroyed. Because what I had seen was the smooth brown lid of a leather case.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m terribly clumsy. I hope I didn’t spill anything on you.”
The man stiffened. He stared at me, his eyes narrowed.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat it, please?”
My heart thumped. I forced myself to smile, desperately hoping he couldn’t sense my fear.
“I’m very sorry. I hope I didn’t spill anything on you.”
Still staring at me, the man gave a fake smile.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “All is well.”
“I’ll fetch more water.” I had to get away from him.
“No, no.” Then he said, obviously trying to sound as though he was simply making a casual remark, “Your accent is interesting. You do not sound like your brother and sister.”
“Oh, Anna’s not our sister,” said Molly breezily. “She’s an evacuee. There’s loads of evacuees in the village.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “An evacuee? That is very interesting. What part of England do you come from?”
“London,” said Molly.
“London?” said the man. “I see.”
It was no use pretending. He could clearly tell.
“I did come from London,” I said, “but that was my aunt’s home. I’m actually from Germany.”
There was a terrible pause. It felt as though the world had stopped. We all looked at the man, as he looked at me.
Then, as if he had just remembered that he was supposed to be an ordinary British soldier, he said, “From Germany. How interesting.”
There was another awkward silence. Frank spoke first.
“Shall I go and get you some more water? It’s no trouble, honestly.”
“No, no,” said the man. “I am very tired. I think I shall sleep now.”
“Sorry about Anna spilling the water,” said Molly. “I hope your ankle feels better soon. We’ll bring you some food later.”
We climbed down the ladder and walked back across the yard and down to the tree house. We climbed into it and parted the leaves to scan the horizon in all directions.
Once we were sure we were alone, Frank was the first to speak.
“He’s scary. I don’t like him.”
He was scary. And now he knew I was German. I bet he’d guessed I was Jewish, too. What might he try to do to me now?
But I didn’t say any of that. I didn’t want to make Frank any more frightened than he was already. Instead, I said, “His wireless transmitter is in a case. So the water didn’t destroy it.”
“Oh!” said Frank, wide-eyed. “Did you spill it on purpose?”
Molly rolled her eyes. Then she said, “I saw something, too. Next to his transmitter.”
“What?” asked Frank.
“He covered it up again with hay, and he didn’t realise I’d seen it,” Molly said. “He’s got a gun.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Keep Watch”
If the Invader Comes
Fear shuddered through me like an electric shock. I saw storm troopers bursting into my bedroom, waving their rifles. I saw the SS man pointing his gun at Ezra’s basket.
“We have to tell someone,” I said. My voice was small and strained.
“We can’t,” said Molly. “They’d arrest him and make him tell them everything he knows, and then Dad would be arrested.”
“He’s got a gun, Molly,” I said. “What if he breaks into the house tonight and kills us all?”
Frank made a strangled sobbing sound. Molly shot me a fierce look.
“Don’t be stupid. Why would he do that? He’s a spy, not a murderer. He’s here to send messages back to Germany, not kill people. Anyway, he needs us to bring him food and water. And he can’t even walk at the moment. So I don’t know why you’re saying ridiculous things like that, just to frighten Frank.”
“It’s not to frighten Frank,” I said. My voice came out strangely.
The garden gate squeaked open and Aunty Rose’s voice called, “Molly! Frank! Anna! Are you out here?”
Molly leaned over the edge of the platform, parted the leaves and called, “We’re in the tree house.”
“Supper’s nearly ready. Come down and wash your hands.”
“Coming,” said Molly.
We waited as the footsteps receded. When we heard the back door shut again, Molly turned to me and said, “Listen. He can’t do any harm at the moment, can he? His wireless is broken, his ankle is most likely broken, and he’ll probably spend all night sleeping.”
“But what if he mends his wireless? We know he was trying to mend it before. He told us to go away so he could sleep, didn’t he? I bet he’s busy mending it right now.”
“It might be completely broken,” said Molly. “He might not be able to mend it at all.”
“But he might. We don’t know.”
“Maybe that’s why he asked us to post a letter,” said Frank. “If he can’t get his wireless working, he’ll need to write to people instead.”
I looked at Frank with new respect. “Of course! We know he’s not really writing to his mother.”
“So he’s writing to his spymasters back in Germany,” said Molly, “and feeding them information. Or he’s part of a spy ring in this country, and they need to communicate with each other to plan their attacks.”
Frank’s eyes sparkled. “I bet it will be in code! We can steam it open and crack the code!”
“Great sort of code it will be if a seven-year-old can crack it,” said Molly.
“So we need to pass it on to somebody,” I said. “You must see that, Molly. We can’t keep this to ourselves. That letter will be passing on secret information, and the government needs to know about it.”
“But he doesn’t actually know any secret information, does he?” said Molly. “We fooled him, didn’t we? He doesn’t actually know where Mr Churchill will be because we gave him the wrong information. So even if he does send a message, they won’t attack here.”
Frank gasped. “No, they’ll attack Muddle Green. They’ll attack Granny and Grandad.”
Molly turned pale. Then she said, “They won’t be able to find it. There’s no signposts.”
“They probably have maps,” I said. “Or they’ll be disguised as British soldiers, like he is, and they’ll trick somebody into giving them directions.”
“But even if they do get there, they’ll see there aren’t any soldiers there and they’ll know they’re in the wrong place.”
“So then they’ll get really angry and come here and kill us because we lied to them,” said Frank.
“Or the Luftwaffe might bomb Muddle Green from the air,” I said.
Frank’s eyes filled with tears. “This is bad. It’s really bad. We should tell someone.”
“We have to think of something,” said Molly. “We have to think of a way to get him caught without Dad getting into trouble.”
“We could ask him not to tell about Dad,” said Frank.
Molly gave him a withering look. “He’s a Nazi, Frank. I don’t think they care about being kind to people.”
“No,” I said. “They don’t. We have to tell the police. And if you don’t, I shall.”
Molly and I stared at each other for a moment. Then she said, “All right. This is what we’ll do. We’ll take turns to watch him. We’ll hide in the barn. If we creep in through that gap in the wall under the loft where the plank’s missing, he won’t see us coming or going. We’ll sit right underneath the loft and hear every move he makes. And if he does get his wireless mended and sends a message, we’ll tell the police immediately, all right? But if he doesn’t, everybody’s safe. And then tomorrow we’ll find a way to properly destroy his wireless so he can’t do any more damage.”
“And after that?” I said. “What about when his ankle gets better and he tries to get away?”
“I don’t know yet. But it gives us a bit more time to think of something.”
The back gate opened again. “Molly!” called Aunt
y Rose. “Come in for tea right now, all of you!”
“Coming!” yelled Molly. She stood up and started to climb down the rope ladder. “Right,” she whispered. “Who’s doing the first shift?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Use Your Common Sense”
If the Invader Comes
Everything had to be decided in the short walk from the tree house to the cottage. We settled on two hours each. I volunteered to take the first shift. If I missed supper, it would arouse less suspicion. It was unheard of for Molly or Frank to miss a meal.
Molly and I both thought Frank was too young to sit in the dark barn all alone, but he wouldn’t hear of missing out.
“All right,” whispered Molly. We were almost at the house by now. “We haven’t got time to argue. But you’ll just do one hour, not two. You do the second shift. You’ll have to pretend to go to bed as usual, and then creep outside. We’ll talk more about it after supper. Then I’ll do the third shift. I’ll take him some food and go in by the door. Taking him food will give me the chance to see what he’s up to. And when I’ve taken up his food, I’ll go out of the big door, so he thinks I’ve left, and creep in again through the gap in the wall. I’ll wake Anna at ten, and the two of us will take turns during the night. Don’t argue, Frank,” she said, as he started to interrupt. “You’re lucky you’re even allowed to do one shift. I’d much rather you didn’t.”
As the others washed their hands at the sink in the scullery, I said, “Aunty Rose, I’m feeling a bit sick. Would it be all right if I went and lay down for a while?”
Aunty Rose frowned in concern. “I hope you’re not coming down with something.” She laid her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“Maybe it was something she ate,” suggested Molly, coming in from the scullery. “She scoffed lots of raspberries in the tree house.”
I shot her a look. It was a bit much, Molly accusing me of greed.
“Some of them weren’t very ripe,” Molly continued. “That’s probably why she’s got a tummy ache.”
Aunty Rose shook her head and tutted. “Well, go and lie down, Anna. You two come and have your supper.”
