Gracie's Sin

by Freda Lightfoot

  The squad was working, as usual, deep in the forest, save for Lou who seemed to spend more time on the telephone to Divisional Office these days, or else involved with the endless paperwork, working on records, pay lists and time sheets back at the Eagle’s Head.

  ‘Just because I’m not wielding anything heavier than a pencil doesn’t mean I’m not pulling my weight,’ she would say. But this was addressed strictly to the others. She hadn’t spoken to Gracie since that day at the camp when Rose had spilled the beans about her love for Karl. None of the squad had. This was far worse than the spat she and Lou had had when they’d been transferred from Cornwall because of Gracie being late back. This cut deep to the heart of their friendship, had split it in two.

  If Gracie asked her a direct question Lou’s mouth would clamp shut and she’d turn away in total rebuff, even avoiding eye contact. It broke Gracie’s heart. She felt isolated and nervously fearful over possible repercussions, not for herself so much, as for Karl.

  The stress of it all made her feel desperately tired, the trees seeming to loom taller before her eyes, and be more difficult to bring down. The October rain seemed somehow more persistent, every bruise and blister more painful, every splinter in her hand a major crisis. She knew that she wasn’t coping well.

  Now, while everyone was distracted handing out cheese rolls and thermos flasks, Karl drew her to one side, out of sight of the others, pressing her up against a tree so that he could kiss her quickly full on the mouth. It was a crazy thing to do, the act of a desperate man, and for a moment Gracie couldn’t resist him. Even the barest touch of his flesh upon hers sent her senses spinning.

  Within seconds though she’d pushed him away, deliberately strolled back to the saw horse to smile across at the guard, who stared back impassively by way of response. ‘Stay away from me. We’re being watched. We really shouldn’t be seen together like this. It’s far too risky.’

  ‘Life is full of risk and I can’t help it. I love you.’ They saw Alf walk over to the guard, the two men soon deep in conversation. Taking advantage of this distraction Karl caught hold of her hand and pulled her back into the bushes to kiss her again, and, unable to help herself, Gracie melted into his arms, revelling in the ripples of desire that cascaded through her body. It was terrifying, exciting, nerve-wracking and utterly blissful just to be with him like this. The next moment it was as if he had doused the fire in her with iced water. ‘The plans for the escape have been finalised. It will take place on the first Sunday in November.’

  ‘Oh, my godfathers, no. No! Karl, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to take such a dangerous risk. You’ll be killed, I know you will.’ She was breathless with fear but he only smiled and stroked her cheek, endearing himself to her and infuriating her all at the same time. Why wouldn’t he listen? Why did men always have to be so damned heroic. ‘How can you hope to escape? What is this plan?’

  He shook his head. ‘Better you no nothing. I do not want you involved.’

  ‘And I don’t want you involved. You mustn’t go. I won’t let you. They’ll realise you’re missing and call out the guards, perhaps even bring in the bloodhounds. Even if they don’t catch you right away, you’ll never find your way across the fells. You’ll get lost trying to reach the coast. You’ll freeze to death, sink in a bog, be attacked by the dogs they’re sure to send after you. You’ll never survive.’ She was speaking rapidly and breathlessly, pumping the words out in these few precarious seconds while they were momentarily unobserved.

  ‘My lovely Gracie, what a catalogue of disasters you predict for me. Do you think that I have no courage, no skills? I plan carefully and will keep us safe. Do not worry, little one.’

  ‘But I do worry,’ she murmured, even as she melted against him, lifting her face for more kisses. Then just as swiftly she drew away, and, snatching up the bill hook, began to peel sections of bark off a pole in fierce stabbing movements, as if she needed to attack something as an outlet for her fears, ‘How can you possibly be safe?’ The words came out in an angry whisper. ‘You’re a PoW for heaven’s sake. The guards won’t stop to ask questions. When they find you, they’ll shoot you!’

  She stopped hacking at the bark to turn and gaze at him, appalled by her own words. They stared deep into each other’s eyes, seeking a way out, perhaps attempting to read hope and a possible future in the love reflected in the other’s gaze.

  Karl spoke softly. ‘It is a risk I must take. Erich needs me. If I do not go with him he will tell about us. There is nothing I can do.’

  By way of reply she knocked the pole off the saw horse to the ground, kicked it with her booted foot as if it alone were responsible for their plight.

  Karl calmly lifted another in its place. ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘I’m angry with the war, the world, everything that stands between us. What does it matter if Erich does tell? Everyone must guess how we feel. All my friends know by now.’

  For a moment he looked stunned, and then his gaze narrowed. ‘What will they do?’

  Gracie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I don’t know. For now they are content to take their punishment out on me personally.’ She whipped off the hat and scarf, revealing her devastated hair. She’d attempted to trim the roughly cut clumps of bristles into a more even fashion but there was nothing she could do to disguise their shortness. Gracie resembled nothing so much as an American GI. Karl stared at her for half a second then gave a low moan.

  ‘My poor darling.’ He ached to pull her close in his arms but now he dare not make a move towards her. If her friends could do such a terrible thing, what risks did she run from others, from the authorities? He glanced across at the watchful Alf, still mindful of his duty to help keep a close eye on the prisoners in his charge. Karl knew himself to be fortunate to be allowed to work in the forest at all. Most of the other prisoners were only allowed out in groups to collect wood for the fires, all under close escort. Only a few of the NCOs, like himself and those who were more of a problem inside than out, like Erich, were allowed to work with civilians and, having gained trust, be less strictly supervised. But he must never take advantage of this situation, or it might put his beloved Gracie’s life at risk. That was why he didn’t want her involved. He needed her to be safe. If only he could be with her to protect her all of the time.

  He took out his frustration by slamming his fist against the bark of a tree. Beads of blood sprang up across his knuckles. ‘What have they done to you? What have I done to you? I should never have come into your life. It would be better if I were gone.’

  ‘No, don’t say that. I love you.’

  Alf shouted over to her, ‘Aren’t you coming for your dinner, girl? It’s lovely cheese again.’ He came a step or two nearer, though not too close and for the first time Gracie wondered if he guessed about herself and Karl. Perhaps Alf was more tolerant than he made out. There was an anxious frown etched on his old face and he jerked a thumb in the direction of the guard seated under a tree. ‘Everyone else is eating. For now. But thoo’ll have me in bother for not keeping a better watch on this beggar.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Sorry!’ As she hastily wiped her hands on a cloth, Gracie whispered fiercely under her breath. ‘Tell me that you won’t do it, that you won’t really attempt to escape.’

  ‘I must, Gracie. It is my duty. I have my orders. Erich has rank over me and I must do as he says. Would you have the altestenrat call me a coward too?’

  She threw down the cloth in despair, and, when she looked at him again, her eyes were glittering suspiciously bright. ‘Then I shall help you. I’ll bring you food and warm clothing. I’ll wait for you. Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there.’

  ‘No! I will not have you involved.’

  ‘I’m already involved. I shall wait for you.’ She named a spot in the forest they both knew well and before he could make any further protest, Gracie hurried away to collect her lunch.

  She ate alone under a beec
h tree. None of the other girls spoke to her, or came anywhere near. Only Alf wandered over.

  ‘Summat up?’ he asked in his quiet, country tones, flicking an eyebrow in the direction of the rest of the squad.

  Gracie smiled at him. ‘Nothing I can’t deal with Alf. Nothing that won’t resolve itself, in time.’

  ‘Nothing you want to talk about?’

  By way of an answer, Gracie dropped her gaze and took a bite out of her sandwich.

  Alf fingered his moustache, a thoughtful expression in his old eyes. ‘You can allus call on me, lass. If you ever need a friend.’ And on this surprising statement, he ambled away.

  It had been a tiring day in the woods and Rose was glad to be home. Pregnancy was proving to be a most joyless experience. The sickness had never left her, and more often than not she felt worn out and jaded, with an odd sort of ache in her belly, which was swelling and puffing out like a pouter pigeon. Despite these discomforts she felt excited at the prospect of having a child of her own, Josh’s child; happier than she’d been in years. If only she and Adam weren’t drifting further and further apart, and his dratted mother wasn’t under their feet the whole time, then life would really be quite tolerable.

  She rather thought pregnancy suited her. It was a wonder that no one had remarked upon how much she’d changed.

  Rose stood in front of the dressing table mirror, examining her naked body with a curious detachment. She smoothed a hand over the soft curve of her stomach, lifting each breast to see if they were heavier, trying to calculate just how far gone she was. This was difficult as she’d had a little show, on two or three occasions in fact, but then this was common, she told herself. She remembered the gossip in the corner shop back in Cornwall when Mrs Clements had given birth to a child with a strawberry birth mark. The village women had explained how this had been caused by bleeding during pregnancy. At first this had troubled Rose to think that Josh’s baby might be marred in some way but had now dismissed it as some foolish old wives’ tale. She refused to believe such nonsense. The child would be fine, a healthy boy. She smiled at her reflection. It was strange how she felt quite certain that she was carrying Josh’s son, could hardly wait to hold him in her arms. With a baby of her own to love, it would make losing him more bearable.

  She dreamed of one day taking the boy to Canada and saying, here you are Josh, this is your son. Wouldn’t that give his frigid wife a jolt? She smiled at the thought. It might even make him realise what a terrible mistake he’d made in deserting her. He’d come back to her then, like a shot. This was a favourite dream in which she loved to indulge. Rose wasn’t quite clear over the details on how they would get back together in the end, but she knew that it would happen. Perhaps she would divorce Adam, or simply run away. And Josh would leave his wife, naturally. The dream wasn’t clear on specifics. But until that magical moment arrived, she would at least be safe here, and well taken care of.

  Rose stood staring at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that. She marvelled at how the baby growing inside her made her body even more womanly and beautiful. Yet she worried about how long she could keep her secret before it became obvious, even to a new husband. As if somehow aware of the train of her thoughts, the door opened and there he was.

  ‘Rose?’ He seemed surprised by the sight of her nakedness, and quickly closed the door behind him. ‘What is it? Aren’t you well?’

  She turned to him, her face alight with happiness. ‘I’m very well, thank you. Never better. Don’t you think I look well? Even beautiful perhaps?’

  Adam couldn’t take his eyes off her. Parts of her body were milky white but her legs, arms and the slender beauty of her throat, were golden from the sun. Even as he drank in the glorious sight of her, she pushed her fingers into her hair and did a little pirouette before him, pert breasts thrusting provocatively forward as she turned. He was indeed fortunate to have such a beautiful wife. For the first time in weeks he felt a stirring in his loins. He wanted her. Dear Christ how he wanted her. He moved closer, touched one breast with a tentative hand. His fingers looked clumsy and rough against the pale velvet of her skin, the nipples dark, even now hardening beneath his touch. He placed his mouth where his hand had been, feeling the need in him swell and start to throb. With sudden urgency he pulled her towards him, covered her mouth with his. In an instant they were lying entwined on the rug and the heat of his passion was pulsing through him as if he had a fire in his belly. Rose was moaning softly, opening up to him and with a burst of joy and pride he knew he could enter her this time; he could pierce her sweetness and make her his own.

  ‘Adam! Where are you lad? Supper’s ready and waiting on the table.’ His mother’s voice, her step upon the stairs. Dear God, she was coming up. ‘Don’t let it go cold now. We’re all ready and waiting.’

  ‘Soddin’ hell!’ Adam rarely swore but as he felt that glorious passion shrivel and die, he slumped against his wife and felt closer to murdering his mother, than any good son should.

  Irma observed the progress of her son’s marriage with close attention. Something wasn’t as it should be. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly where the problem lay but there was one, of that she was certain. She could sense an awkwardness between the young couple, and little sign of the affectionate lovey-doveyness one would expect from newly weds. No doubt the poor lad had realised, too late, what a terrible mistake he’d made. Well, he couldn’t say that he hadn’t been warned. Nor could he lay the blame on her, Irma told herself most firmly, if he’d now seen the error of his ways. She’d dropped her objections to the wedding, hadn’t she? once she’d realised he was determined. She’d attended the ceremony, trimmed her best hat for the event, given up the front bedroom and moved into the back after more than forty years. You would think they’d appreciate such thoughtfulness, but not even a thank you had crossed madam’s lips.

  Apart from being a flighty piece, shoving her nose in where it wasn’t wanted, and soon getting her feet under t’table in more ways than one, she was a lazy tyke. Never lifted a finger to help in the kitchen. The girl didn’t fit in, which was exactly what she’d predicted. Irma was quite convinced that if she hadn’t been prepared to carry on doing all the cooking and cleaning herself in the little cottage, the pair of them would’ve starved. Not that she would see her only son suffer. Dear me no! After a long day working in the fields he deserved a few home comforts, and who better to provide them than herself, his dear old mam. Nobody, not even that little madam, could accuse her of being a burden. She’d more than earn her keep.

  It hadn’t escaped Irma’s notice that she’d heard very little in the way of creaking bed springs which was surely unusual, them being newly weds. And there’d been one occasion when Irma had been tidying up in what was now their bedroom, when she’d noticed that only one half of the bed looked as if it had been slept in. The bottom sheet at the other half had been as smooth and neat as a new pin. Now that struck Irma as odd. She decided to investigate.

  She chose one morning while Rose was in the bathroom. Adam had already gone out to do the morning milking and since she could hear the tap running, Irma felt safe to push open the bedroom door and peep inside. There, on the bedside rug, a testament to her worst fears, lay a pillow and eiderdown. And as if that didn’t speak volumes, tossed casually across both were her son’s discarded pyjamas.

  Irma was appalled. ‘Heaven help us, he’s sleeping on the floor.’

  Hurrying to listen at the bathroom door, she heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting. So that was how the land lay? She should have guessed. The little madam had made a fool of her boy, like many another in this dratted war. Oh, but she’d be here to pick up the pieces when it all fell apart. He could depend upon his mam at least. As always.

  She waited, arms folded, for Rose to come out of the bathroom. The look on the girl’s face was more than enough evidence of her guilt.

  ‘So that’s the way of it, eh?’ Irma announced, unable to disguise the triumph in he
r voice. ‘You managed to wed him and wheedle your way in here. But now he knows the truth, he won’t sleep with you, is that it?’

  Rose gritted her teeth, determined not to be lured into a confrontation; thankful at least that Adam wasn’t present to hear what his mother had to say. If she could just keep her wits about her, she might throw the woman off the scent. Lifting her chin, Rose strode straight past Irma without a word.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve got a fancy man. You were seen in the bar parlour at the Eagle’s Head regular, with one of them yanks. I can put two and two together with the best of ‘em.’

  Rose whirled about, her hand on the door knob shaking with rage as she met her mother-in-law’s interrogative glare. ‘He was Canadian actually, and it was all perfectly innocent. Just another serviceman missing his wife.’

  ‘Ah, so that was the problem, was it? He was already married. Well, whatever he was, it’s quite obvious the pair of you weren’t simply talking about the weather. Nor was he thinking much of his wife when you got up to heaven knows what mischief.’

  Rose wanted to slap the old woman’s face, knock her down the stairs for even insinuating Josh’s love was somehow unclean and sordid. For Adam’s sake, she took a deep steadying breath and resorted to the kind of ice cold countenance she’d developed over the years when dealing with one of Eddie’s tantrums, drawing a rock hard shell of protection about herself, as she had learned to do. ‘Think what you like. An eiderdown tossed on the floor proves nothing.’

  ‘I heard you throwing up in the bathroom.’

  ‘A stomach upset.’

  ‘Oh, aye, and I’m the Queen of Sheba.’

  ‘You never wanted me here in the first place and you’ve done your best to make sure that I’m not welcome. What you don’t seem to appreciate is that there’s nothing you can do about it. Adam and I are married now. You certainly can’t hurt me. I’m impervious to hurt. Didn’t you know that?’