War on the Margins

by Libby Cone

  ‘No, I want to do more, mademoiselles. Please don’t worry. I understand the risks. Besides, they don’t know who I am, do they?’

  ‘We do not know that, cherie. It is unwise to assume.’

  ‘Well, anyway, what did you want to do?’

  ‘We want to go into St Helier and give out more letters. We also hear that some citizens are turning in others as black marketeers, or as Jews. We need to stop them.’

  ‘How will you do that?’

  ‘We have some ideas. One way is to inform on them. Falsely, of course, but it will get them out of the way for a while.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you wish to go with us?’

  Marlene thought of Mr Orange’s officious manner, Pauline’s salacious giggle, of poor Mr Davidson and the others who had registered and were now living in terror.

  ‘Yes, I’ll go.’

  ‘Très bien! We will have fun! Let us select our disguises!’

  ‘I need to wear my coat.’

  ‘Why, cherie?’

  ‘Because it has important things sewn into it.’

  ‘Oh, you are a very smart young woman, Marlene! But of course you shall wear your coat. This is a dangerous undertaking. You must understand that if any one of us is caught, she will be tortured!’

  ‘I wouldn’t tell them anything!’

  Suzanne answered, her brow furrowed. ‘No, cherie. It is not right. We do not want you to be tortured. They are evil, evil men. They are filthy swine who will do anything to a young girl to get information. Plus, if they think you are a Jew, they will be even more beastly. They will torture you, get information out of you, and then kill you or drive you to kill yourself. Please understand, Lucille and I have many plans for any eventuality. If one of us is captured, the other will be able to get away.’ She said this with her characteristic nonchalance, but Marlene could see her hands shaking.

  Lucille came over to Suzanne’s chair and squeezed her shoulders. ‘Cherie, let us not dwell on unpleasantness. We will be fine. Marlene will be fine. We must – ’

  ‘No, no, Lucille. You are right. There is no time for silliness. There is only time to fight the enemy, may he rot in hell.’

  Thirty minutes later they were pedalling single-file (the Nazis forbade riding two or more abreast) down the coastal road. Marlene had a garish red wig secured to her bald head; a chartreuse scarf trailed behind her. She had an off-white light woollen dress underneath her coat, heavy stockings and sensible shoes. With a smear of red lipstick and a silly little hat, she looked like an older woman making a pathetic attempt to look younger; she was certain nobody would bother her. Indeed, nobody had ever bothered her when she was a young woman; now it mattered not at all and instead was a distinct advantage. She felt so serious and so lighthearted at the same time.

  Lucille and Suzanne were so generous, so funny. She had never met anyone like them before. Then again, she had never known any artists. They actually had ideas and acted on them. Even when they were putting themselves in the greatest danger they were aware of beauty. She now saw their house as beautiful. Billows of interesting fabric framed the windows. Their plates were hand-painted in fanciful ways; Lucille said some of the decorations were ‘Cubist’. Flying down the road, Marlene inhaled lungfuls of air, not to calm herself as she had when pedalling the opposite way a month ago, but to fill herself with the energy to fight.

  CHAPTER 12

  Nantes

  Lucy’s mother, raving about lanterns in the cellar, was reluctantly sent off to a Parisian clinic for a short visit. She was to return to the clinic often, for longer and longer stays. Lucy remained with her grandmother, Mathilde Cahun, until she was ten. Her gaze never softened; deprived of a mother’s frame of reference, she regarded the world with a fierce curiosity, without assumptions. At the same time, she valued her dream life as much as her waking life, recording her dreams and pondering them, seriously regarding their ideas. She excelled in school; the other children were afraid of her. This fear changed to hostility when she was twelve and Dreyfus was again in the news. Her defiant gaze was not enough to deflect the onslaught of insults and taunts. Her father found her an English tutor. She settled into the flowered parlour at Parson’s Mead in Surrey and astonished Miss Henry with her grasp of English literature and art. On a visit, her father gave her a camera. At first, she tried to suck the world in with it. Then, she realised it was an extension of her mind. The little cables and timers she discovered enabled her to give form to her dreams by making self-portraits.

  A year later, back in Nantes, her father encouraged her new pursuit, though he had hoped it would lead to her getting more fresh air, rather than further closeting herself in her room. It took her a while, then, to notice her father’s more frequent absences. She was studying beauty. Women’s beauty held special allure for her. She tried making herself as beautiful as possible, like the dancer (and lover of King Leopold) Cléo de Merode, but the face in the resulting photograph seemed masked. Afraid of misrepresenting her soul, she began to wear more simple and severe clothing, sometimes approaching male dress. She was pleased with the resulting photographs; the mask of gender was lifted somehow, the gaze more meaningful.

  She tried fuelling her dreams with ether. The visions were astounding, sometimes terrifying, with monsters cascading down mountains of yellow fire, exploding into flaming debris. Was she tempting madness? Should she die? A few cuts to her wrists and some deep intoxications brought no answers. Her father tried ceaselessly to reconnect her to the world while respecting her dreams.

  At dinner one evening her father, who had separated from her mother (but still paid all her hospital bills), turned to fifteen-year-old Lucille with a piece of bread in his hand.

  ‘Would you like to go on an outing to the zoo on Sunday? I wish you to meet someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A lady, a … widow, I … er … have become … friends with. She has a daughter a couple of years older than you named Suzanne. She will come, too.’

  ‘Are you going to marry this lady?’ Her gaze went through him; he put the bread down.

  ‘I might. But I want you to meet her and her daughter first.’

  ‘All right, I’ll go on Sunday.’

  Suzanne. Does she dream? Does she wear masks? Has she begun to menstruate? Does she cry for her father?

  They would laugh later on about their meeting in front of the fetid monkey cage. Each briefly assessed, and found acceptable, the other’s parent. Then they trained their eyes on each other.

  Suzanne was taller, older, darker. She had a languid gaze that made Lucy shiver when it was turned upon her. The little foursome commenced walking through the zoo, the older man and woman in front, arm in arm, chatting and laughing; the young women behind, interviewing each other for the job of sister. Each expected rejection from the other due to her affinity for dreams; they were overjoyed to find how much they actually shared.

  ‘You have a dream book, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘It is a notebook with a tiger on the cover.’

  ‘Mine has a jungle flower. My father gave it to me. Suzanne, have you ever tried ether?’

  ‘No, but I would like to. I hear the dreams are exquisite.’

  ‘I have used it. It’s wonderful, although it gives you a headache later.’

  ‘Have you ever tried to kill yourself?’

  ‘Yes, when my dreams became too big for me.’

  ‘I tried when my father was dying. I’m glad they found me.’

  ‘Me, too. So, do you like to paint?’

  ‘No, I draw. My dream book has more pages of drawings than writing.’

  ‘I don’t draw. I do photography. I haven’t tried illustrating my dream book, but you are giving me ideas.’

  Over dinner in a café they were more like two couples than two families tentatively meeting. Lucille’s father and Suzanne’s mother were relieved that their precocious, bohemian daught
ers got along so well. The older couple spoke of food, literature and politics. The younger spoke of dreams.

  There was no rush to marriage for Maurice Schwob and Marie Eugénie Malherbe; Maurice’s divorce from Lucy’s mother would take years. They enjoyed each other’s company and spent time at each other’s homes. The girls each had a guest bedroom at the other’s house. At the Schwob home, they changed this to a shared bedroom and a studio for drawing and photography. Their parents were delighted over their friendship; both girls seemed much happier and less crushed by the world; their parents willingly supplied paper, books, and lenient bedtimes. Lucy and Suzanne began to frequent artists’ cafés, where they read their experimental poetry, shared their drawings and photographs, drank glass after glass of wine, and tumbled into their beds to get some rest before school. It was only natural that they should become lovers; they were already finishing each other’s sentences. One night, as they were sitting on Suzanne’s bed in their shared room, reading Rimbaud, Suzanne started to drowse.

  ‘Are you sleepy?’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Shall I tuck you in and kiss you goodnight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lucille eased Suzanne down onto her bed, pulled the covers out from under her legs, covered her, and kissed her goodnight. Then she kissed her some more; Suzanne murmured her pleasure. Lucille got under the covers, held the now wide-awake Suzanne, and covered her face with more kisses, which were soon fervently returned. Buttons were undone, breasts caressed, nipples kissed into hardness. Hands sought out soft bellies and then, frantic with desire, the known-yet-unknown territory of lusciousness below. They became thunderclouds, merging in softness and seething electricity. After, they clung together, giggling, weeping, kissing.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jersey

  26 April 1941

  THIRD ORDER

  relating to measures against Jews

  In virtue of the plenary powers conferred upon me by the Führer and Supreme Commander of the Wehrmacht, I order as follows:

  § 1. Jews

  (1) Any person having at least three grand-parents of pure Jewish blood shall be deemed to be a Jew. A grand-parent having belonged to the Jewish religious community shall be deemed to be of pure Jewish blood.

  Any person having two grand-parents of pure Jewish blood who —

  (a)at the time of the publication of this Order, belongs to the Jewish religious community or who subsequently joins it; or

  (b)at the time of the publication of this Order is married to a Jew or who subsequently marries a Jew;

  shall be deemed to be a Jew.

  In doubtful cases, any person who belongs or has belonged to the Jewish religious community shall be deemed to be a Jew.

  (2)§ 1 of the Order of September 27, 1940, relating to measures against Jews (Official Orders of the Military Commander in France (VOBIF), page 92) is hereby revoked.

  § 2. Subsequent Declaration.

  (1) Any person, not having previously been deemed to be a Jew, who comes within the terms of §1 of this Order, shall, in accordance with §3 of the Order of September 27, 1940, relating to measures against Jews (VOBIF p. 92) and with §§ 2 and 3 of the Second Order of October 18th, 1940, relating to measures against Jews (VOBIF p.112), make the required declaration before May 20th, 1941.

  (2) Measures against persons, having previously been deemed to be Jews, who do not come within the terms of § 1 of this Order, shall be withdrawn on request.

  § 3. Prohibition on the carrying-on of certain economic activities and on the employment of Jews. (1) On and after May 20th, 1941, Jews and Jewish undertakings for whom or for which a managing administrator has not been appointed shall be prohibited from carrying on the following

  economic activities:

  (a)wholesale and retail trade;

  (b)hotel and catering industry;

  (c)insurance;

  (d)navigation;

  (e)dispatch and storage;

  (f)travel agencies, organisation of tours;

  (g)guides;

  (h) transport undertakings of all descriptions, including the hire of motor and other vehicles;

  (i) banking & money-exchange;

  (j) pawnbroking;

  (k) information and money-collecting offices;

  (l) supervision undertakings;

  (m) dealings in automatic machines;

  (n) publicity agencies;

  (o) employment agencies;

  (p) businesses concerned with dealings in apartments, lands, and mortgages;

  (q) matrimonial agencies;

  (r) intermediaries for dealings in goods and industrial loans (agents, brokers, representatives, travellers, etc.).

  (2)In no undertaking shall a Jew be engaged as a higher official or as an employee who comes into contact with customers. Persons who alone or jointly with others have right of signature or who have an interest in the profits of the undertaking or who individually are designated as such by the Military Commander or the competent French authorities shall be deemed to be higher officials .

  (3)On the order of the Military Commander or the competent French authorities, Jewish employees shall be dismissed and replaced by non-Jewish employees.

  § 4. Holdings and Shares belonging to Jews.

  Managing administrators may be appointed to administer holdings in limited liability companies and shares belonging to Jews and Jewish undertakings. The provisions of the Order of May 20th, 1940, on the management of businesses (VOBIF p. 31) shall apply accordingly to managing administrators. Managing administrators are authorised to sell holdings and shares. They shall have, with regard to the company, the same rights as the owners of the holdings or shares.

  § 5. Indispensable advances.

  Until further orders, managing administrators of Jewish undertakings, holdings or shares shall not advance to the persons entitled to the same, out of the management income, more than is absolutely indispensable.

  § 6. Compensation.

  (1)No compensation shall be awarded for losses resulting from the carrying into effect of the Orders relating to measures against Jews.

  (2)Jewish employees who are dismissed as from May 1st, 1941, or any later date, despite the fact that their employment is not prohibited, shall not be entitled to claim compensation for dismissal without due notice.

  § 7. Penalties.

  Infringements of this Order shall be punishable by imprisonment and a fine or either of these penalties, unless a more severe penalty is otherwise prescribed. Confiscation of goods may also be ordered.

  § 8. Commencement.

  This Order shall come into force as from its publication.

  The Military Commander in France.

  CHAPTER 14

  St Helier, Jersey

  27 April 1941

  They sat in the little kitchen, drinking precious tea. They were in the home of Mary Drummond, a postal worker in St Helier. After checking for busybodies at the windows, Mary took out a large envelope and emptied its contents on the table. It was a sheaf of letters, all addressed to the Feldkommandantur from Islanders. Mary had smuggled them out of the post office before they reached their destination. The sisters began reading them; Marlene followed suit. They told of this person hoarding coal, that person selling butter on the black market, that one with Jewish ancestry who was ‘passing’ as an Aryan.

  Mary looked grim. ‘So many,’ she said. ‘It’s getting worse.’

  Marlene was shocked. ‘Aren’t these people neighbours? Why are they doing this?’

  Mary, a widow in her fifties, smiled maternally at Marlene. ‘Dear, most of these charges are false. They just want to settle scores.’

  ‘It’s a shame,’ sighed Lucille. ‘Such petit bourgeois behaviour.’

  Lucille and Suzanne took out a box of mixed stationery unlike the fancy paper they used to write letters to soldiers. This was a collection of various cheap lined papers and prosaic light-blue, deckle-edge bond. Mary produced three type
writers. They began typing letters, similar to those they were perusing, but naming the authors as the suspects. These were put into envelopes addressed to the Feldkommandantur, to be posted at various points on the island.

  Then they set off for a stroll around St Helier, avoiding areas Marlene used to frequent, though nobody would have recognised her in her disguise. Nobody would probably recognise me even without a disguise, thought Marlene. Was I ever Miss Popular? Did I ever have many friends? Would they have ever found out my father was Jewish if Pauline and her bloody jerry hadn’t seen me at the cemetery? What has become of my flat? Who lives there now? Do they think I’m dead? Curiosity about such things aside, she realised that she didn’t miss her former existence much. Instead of working in a boring office with girls much younger than herself and a boss who listened to Lord Haw-Haw, she was out in the fresh air. She was meeting people who talked about things like freedom and victory and beauty instead of film stars and boyfriends and hosiery. The sisters were very kind and funny, though a little strange. Mary Drummond was a pleasant woman; Marlene began to reflect on her incredible bravery, doing something on a daily basis that had so frightened Marlene that she had left her own workplace after stealing only two documents. How did Mary smuggle out so much post addressed to the Feldkommandantur and not die of a nervous breakdown? Mary certainly seemed a bit fatigued and put-upon, as everyone else did in these times, but she had a matter-of-fact cheerfulness that Marlene envied. It reminded Marlene of her mother. What would her mother think of her now? She suppressed a smile.

  They rounded a corner. Across the street several young women were strolling and looking in the shop windows. One was tall, with red hair. Marlene recognised Pauline and began to tremble.

  ‘We need to find a café,’ Suzanne was saying. ‘We have notes for the soldiers.’

  Mary and Lucille began discussing this, trying to decide which café might actually have something edible and also have a German clientéle sympathetic to their message. Marlene did not hear them; she froze momentarily in her tracks, then turned her head away from the street and hurried to catch up with the three women.