Anna At War

by Helen Peters

  “I know you’re up to something, Anna. I knew something was going on when you were so against burning his letter. Why would you want to keep it in the box with your parents’ letters? Why would you not want to burn it? Something’s going on and I’m not going to let you go until you tell me what it is.”

  “I’m never going to tell you. Why should I tell you anything? How can I trust you, when you don’t trust me?”

  “I do trust you. I trust you completely. I know you’re on our side. I know you don’t want Dad to get in trouble. But I also know you’re doing things you’re not telling me about, and I have to know. It’s about my family, after all.”

  I looked at her agonised face. I knew what it felt like to worry constantly about my father’s safety. And I did really want to set Molly’s mind at rest. Partly for her, of course, but I have to admit it was mainly for me. I was proud I’d thought of making that bargain with Mr Rivers. It felt like an achievement. And I wanted Molly to know about it.

  “All right,” I said. “But only if you swear, as the most solemn promise you’ve ever made, that you won’t breathe a word of this to anybody, ever. Not even Frank.”

  Molly’s eyes were wide with anticipation.

  “All right,” she said. “I solemnly swear.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Try to Give Exact Information”

  If the Invader Comes

  So I told her everything. She listened in entranced silence until I reached the point where I’d told Colonel Ferguson what Uncle Bert had said to Aunty Rose about Churchill’s visit. Her face paled.

  “No! How could you? How dare you! After all he’s—”

  “They’ve promised your dad won’t get in trouble.”

  She stared at me. “They? Who? How?”

  “I told Mr Rivers that if he wanted me to do this dangerous work for him, he had to promise your dad wouldn’t get in trouble for what he said.”

  “And he agreed?”

  “We’re doing really important war work, aren’t we? Thanks to us, they know the location of a spy they’ve been trying to track down for ages. Now they’ve got him under guard, and we’re delivering his messages to them so they can decode them and locate the rest of his spy ring.”

  “We’re secret agents!” said Molly. “We’re actually secret agents!”

  Then she looked at me awkwardly. She frowned and looked down at her hands. She bit her lip and picked at her fingernails.

  “That was nice, the way you said ‘we’,” she said eventually.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When you said we’re doing important war work. We. Like we’re working together.”

  I shrugged. “We are working together. We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

  “Well, it’s nice of you to say it. And thank you for making them promise that Dad wouldn’t get in trouble. It was really nice of you to sort the situation out, especially when none of it was your fault.”

  “It wasn’t your fault either.”

  “No, but Frank’s my brother.”

  She paused, looking down at her fidgeting hands again. I could tell she was working up to saying something, so I waited in silence. The silence lasted ages.

  “Listen, Anna,” she said finally. “I’m so, so sorry about taking your letter into school. I’m so sorry about ever taking any notice of Billy’s stupid ideas. I hate myself every day for being so stupid. I don’t know why I did it. I was such an idiot. I think…” She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “What? What were you going to say? You think what?”

  She shook her head again. “Nothing. It sounds so stupid.”

  “Just say it.”

  “All right. I think… Maybe I was jealous.”

  “Jealous! Of me!”

  “Mum and Dad think you’re wonderful, and Frank loves you, and you’re so clever, and Miss Marshall thinks you’re perfect, and… Oh, you see, it sounds so pathetic, doesn’t it? I’m just a horrible person.”

  I looked at her face, all screwed up and miserable, and all of a sudden I didn’t hate her any more.

  “You’re not a horrible person,” I said. “You’ve been really nice to me ever since I came, apart from that one thing. You were so helpful and patient with teaching me English. You shared all your friends with me and made sure they were my friends too. You even came with me to Ashcombe House to help me get jobs for my parents. And you’ve never made a fuss about sharing your room.”

  “Well, I was sharing with Frank before, anyway.”

  “Even so. It’s different, sharing your room with a stranger. And sharing your parents too. I wouldn’t have liked that.”

  “Really?” She looked up then, and there was a glimmer of hope on her face.

  “No. I’d have hated having to share my parents with a stranger. And I understand why you find it annoying that I like helping in the house, and that I get good marks at school. But honestly, Molly, you should never, ever be jealous of me. It wouldn’t make any difference if I helped in the house every moment of every day: Aunty Rose is still your mum, not mine. You’ve got a mum and a dad and a brother, and you live in the same house as them, and they’ll always love you, whatever happens, because they’re your family. And the reason I work hard at school and want to do well is because that’s all I’ve got. The Nazis took away my father’s business, and they destroyed all our things, and I don’t even get proper letters any more. I have no idea what my parents’ lives are like. I don’t even know if they have enough to eat. I worry about them every single day and there’s nothing I can do to help, and if Hitler invades England and the Germans win the war, then I’ll never be safe again and I’ll probably never see my parents again.”

  I was crying now, and I didn’t even try to stop. “So yes, you are stupid. Really stupid.” For some reason, I started laughing through my tears: a weird, slightly hysterical laugh. “You’re really stupid. Being jealous of me is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done.”

  Molly held out her arms and drew me into a hug. I didn’t pull away from her. I just sobbed on her shoulder until her shirt was soaked with tears.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  “When the Danger Comes Nearer”

  If the Invader Comes

  We went to Mrs Chantrey’s cottage that day and the next, even though we knew there was no possibility of the man receiving a reply to his letter until Tuesday. But Aunty Rose had been very pleased when we offered to check the cottage for her. “Just don’t go touching any of her things, will you?” she said, as she handed us the keys. “Water the plants and collect the post, that’s all.”

  On Tuesday we walked to Neaves Lane just after the postman had made his morning rounds. As we opened the front door, our eyes immediately fell on a letter, lying on the doormat. Molly snatched it up and I felt the hairs stand up on my arms as we read the second line of the address.

  Neeves Lane.

  “Right,” said Molly. “You’d better take this to Ashcombe House.”

  Colonel Ferguson lifted the speckled brown eggs from the hay-lined basket and placed them carefully on his desk. Then I took the letter from under the hay. Mr Rivers scrutinised the address before taking it to the inner office. The colonel gave me the money for the eggs and I put it in the basket.

  Mr Rivers emerged from the office empty-handed.

  “What shall I do about the letter?” I asked. “I have to take it to the man, or he’ll get suspicious.”

  “Can you bring more eggs this afternoon and collect it then?” asked Mr Rivers.

  “Aunty Rose will notice if I take any more eggs. But I could bring jam. She’s been making loads of jam.”

  The colonel’s face lit up. “Jam would be excellent.”

  “Come at two o’clock,” said Mr Rivers. “Then you can take the letter to Mr Smith as though it arrived in the afternoon post.”

  Molly volunteered to help her mum with the Saucepans into Spitfires collection, and Frank was kee
n to help too, so it was easy for me to make another trip to Ashcombe House that afternoon. I took a pot of strawberry jam in the basket and received the letter back in exchange.

  I scrutinised both sides of the envelope before tucking it under the hay. You would never have known it had been opened. I wondered how they did it. Did they steam it open, or did they have a special chemical that dissolved the glue on the envelope?

  I waited for Molly to return before taking the letter to the man. I told myself I was waiting because I knew she’d want to be involved, but it was also because I hated the thought of being alone with him.

  As we pushed the door open and the light streamed into the barn, a thud came from the loft, as though something heavy had fallen on the floor. Then there were scrabbling sounds. We shot puzzled looks at each other before climbing the ladder.

  The man looked jittery and nervous. He almost snatched the letter out of Molly’s hand.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Molly. “Do you need more water?”

  “No, no,” he said impatiently. Then he seemed to remember his manners. “Forgive me. It is just that I am so worried about my mother.”

  He was fingering the envelope, clearly desperate to open it.

  “Of course,” said Molly. “We’ll leave you in peace. I hope your mother’s feeling better.”

  She started to climb down the ladder.

  “When will you be back?” he asked.

  Molly’s head was level with the loft floor. “We’ll bring you something to eat this evening.”

  “Good. I shall write a reply to my mother. Would you be so kind as to post it this evening?”

  “Of course. We’re glad to help.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  “You Must Not Be Taken by Surprise”

  If the Invader Comes

  Wednesday seemed to drag on forever. It was so horrible to think the man in the barn was probably plotting to cause some unknown act of destruction the very next day.

  “I have tried to walk,” he told us on Wednesday evening, when we took him bread and cheese. “But it is still useless.” He gestured in frustration at his ankle. “I think it must be broken. If it were a simple sprain, surely it would have healed by now.”

  Molly nodded. “I think you’re right. What a shame. That might take a long time to heal. Your poor mother. How is she?”

  The man shook his head sadly. “She is very unwell.”

  “That must be such a worry for you. She’ll be so pleased to see you when you manage to get to her. Do you have a letter you’d like us to post?”

  “Not tonight. I am tired now. I need to sleep.”

  “No letters,” I whispered, when we were safely in our room. “Do you think that means their plans are fixed?”

  Molly shuddered. “I really hope Mr Rivers knows what he’s doing.”

  That night I had the nightmare about Peter Smith and my parents again. And there was no relief when I woke up. Thursday had come at last, and I felt dizzy with fear.

  “Are you all right, Anna?” asked Aunty Rose at the breakfast table. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

  “Sorry. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

  “You do look pale. Fresh air will sort you out. I’ve got a list of errands in the village you can run for me, as soon as you’ve had some breakfast.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Molly.

  “No, I need you in the house. There’s all those blackcurrants want doing for jam. Anna’s perfectly capable of going to the village on her own.”

  I walked back home along the lane, carrying Aunty Rose’s shopping basket and trying not to think about what might be happening in Muddle Green right now.

  It’s all right, I reassured myself. We’ve intercepted all his letters. Mr Rivers knows what they’re planning. He’ll have people following them. They’ll catch them before they can do anything.

  But I still had to force myself to breathe normally.

  The duty soldiers at the entrance to Ashcombe Park said hello to me as I walked past the gates. The Park was strangely quiet today. Usually the grass was swarming with men doing drills and exercises. Were they out on manoeuvres? But I hadn’t seen or heard convoys of army lorries.

  Then, with a lurch in my stomach, I realised. It must be because of Churchill’s visit. If he was coming to inspect the troops, then maybe they would all be lined up on parade somewhere in the grounds. It would be the perfect opportunity for Nazi saboteurs to plant a bomb and cause maximum damage.

  Well, at least the soldiers would be safe here. I just hoped Peter Smith’s associates would be caught before they could cause any damage in Muddle Green.

  As I passed a gateway, a movement in the hedge on the other side of the field caught my eye. The hedgerow was thick and overgrown, but there were a few patches where the vegetation thinned out. And a shadowy figure was moving through one of these patches.

  My heart beat faster. I drew back behind the gatepost, keeping my eyes fixed on a small gap in the hedge just ahead of where I’d seen the figure. Whoever it was would have to pass through that gap.

  The shadow disappeared into thick foliage. I waited. And then a head appeared in the gap.

  Peter Smith’s head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “Think Before You Act”

  If the Invader Comes

  I stood there, frozen, heart racing, head spinning.

  He crawled out of the hedge and stood up.

  Calm down, Anna. Breathe. Breathe.

  He scanned his surroundings and then walked a few paces out into the field. His pack was strapped to his back.

  Breathe, Anna. Take a deep breath.

  He had a slight limp, but that was all. So he’d been lying to us when he said his ankle was no better. What idiots we were. Why hadn’t we suspected that?

  He shaded his eyes from the sun and turned slowly, as though trying to get a sense of his surroundings. He stopped and looked for a long time in the direction of Ashcombe House, which was clearly visible across the fields.

  Think, Anna. Calm down and think.

  He thought he was in Muddle Green, didn’t he? He must be going to meet his associates. Except he wouldn’t meet them, because they really were in Muddle Green. But Peter Smith was one field away from an encampment of soldiers at Ashcombe Park.

  Was he carrying explosives in that rucksack?

  Think, Anna. Breathe and think.

  I could run for help, but I was at least half a kilometre from the Park and half a kilometre from the Deans’ house. By the time I’d run to either place, found somebody and told them where he was, he might be somewhere completely different. And it might be too late to stop him from doing whatever he was planning to do.

  Think.

  I would have to follow him. If he did go towards the Park, then surely there would be soldiers around and I could alert them.

  And if I couldn’t do that, I would somehow have to stop him myself.

  Breathe, Anna. Breathe.

  He walked back to the hedge and crawled into the gap.

  I looked at the dense hedgerow in front of me. I would never catch him up if I tried to crawl through it from here. I would have to creep around the outside until I got to a point where I could keep an eye on him without him hearing or seeing me.

  I left Aunty Rose’s basket on the verge, just outside the gateway. It would be a sign for anyone if they came looking for me. I hid the shopping in the hedge and stuffed the precious ration books in my trouser pockets. Then I set off around the outside of the hedgerow.

  What if he heard or saw me? Once I was in the middle of the hedge, I would be trapped. He could shoot me without any trouble at all.

  Breathe, Anna, breathe. Calm down. Think.

  He wouldn’t shoot me. The noise would bring people running and he would be cornered.

  He could kill me in other, noiseless ways, though, couldn’t he? He could strangle me or smother me. Stuck in a hedge, I’d be powerless to escape.
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  Calm down, Anna. Breathe.

  He was a lot bigger than I was. So if I followed the trail he had made through the hedge, I should be able to move without breaking any more twigs. The breeze rustling the leaves should mask any accidental sound I made.

  I reached the gap in the hedge.

  Before I crawled in, I scuffed up the ground around the gap with the soles of my shoes, creating a patch of bare soil that stood out among the green grass and leaves. If a search party looked here, they would surely notice that. I made shoe prints in the soil too. Then I got down on my hands and knees and started crawling through the hedgerow.

  I followed the trail of snapped twigs that the man had left. My clothes kept getting caught on thorns and I had to stop to disentangle them. The same thing must be happening to him, I thought, only much more so. I was following a ready-made trail, but he was having to create it. His progress must be pretty slow.

  I was nearly at the far corner of the field now. My hands and knees were sore from crawling on stones and twigs. Thank goodness I was wearing trousers.

  I came to the end of the field, where the farm hedge met the huge ancient yew hedge that bordered Ashcombe Park. Which direction had the man taken?

  To the right, the hedge ran parallel to the tree-lined avenue all the way down to the main entrance gates. To the left, it ran up to the stable yard. If he and his associates were planning to attack the house, he would be heading left.

  I squeezed through the gap where the man had broken through.

  I was expecting to have to struggle through densely woven yew, but, to my amazement, when I reached the middle of the hedge, I found myself in a natural tunnel, where the centuries-old growth at the centre had died away, leaving green walls on either side. The tunnel was so high that I could stand up in it.