by Chloe Mayer
From The Little Mermaid
‘Oh but Grandmother, what terrible big teeth you have!’
From Little Redcape (Little Red Riding Hood)
Reggie’s parents, Bill and Moira, had organised what they called a ‘Grandparents’ Saturday’ with Annabel’s mother and father, who had driven up to Great Yarmouth for the occasion in their Austin 7 Ruby. Annabel and the boy had travelled by train that morning, in a carriage filled with purposeful-looking men and women in all sorts of uniform.
Her parents planned to stay overnight – at a bed and breakfast, rather than put Reggie’s parents to any trouble – but Annabel would catch the train back to Bambury in the evening. She’d told everyone she didn’t like to be away from home too long in case there should be any word of Reggie.
Of course she’d apologised profusely to Hans, telling him there was no way she could wriggle out of the occasion. She’d taken off her necklace and given it to him to keep hidden in his pocket until the next time they met.
‘Look – I’m giving you my heart!’ she’d said, and he’d laughed and kissed the silver pendant and wrapped it up in a piece of paper so he wouldn’t lose it. He was never searched at the farm or the camp, so she wasn’t worried anybody would find it.
So now here they were, both sets of grandparents and Annabel and the boy, finishing lunch at a smart restaurant in the town. They’d all take a walk along the seafront afterwards. The Pattersons’ neighbours were going to join them on the beach because Daniel was friendly with their son, Harry or Henry or something.
Bill had brought along a bag containing a cricket ball and a bat and, as the coffee was served, said ‘all the boys’ would have a bit of a game while the ladies sunned themselves on deck chairs.
Annabel stifled a sigh as her father spoilt the festive atmosphere by grumbling about the poor quality of the coffee. ‘It’s like drinking muddy water,’ he said, making a big show of putting his cup back on the table in disgust.
Annabel suspected since he’d offered to pay, after a tussle over the bill, he felt he could moan without being rude. Her parents were better off than Reggie’s and her father often came up with an excuse about why the Pattersons should let him foot the bill.
‘Ah, you can’t get good coffee for love nor money anywhere nowadays, David,’ Bill replied.
‘Well, I think it’s all been lovely,’ Moira said. She seemed a little tipsy from the wine.
‘Bloody Krauts have got a lot to answer for, depriving a man of decent coffee!’ Her father shook his fist in mock rage – a strange attempt to cover up his genuine annoyance.
The others laughed and the situation seemed to defuse.
‘I feel that way about my nylons!’ Moira said. ‘I do miss my nylons!’
Annabel’s mother nodded vigorously. ‘I know, I know.’
‘I’ve been thinking about doing what these young girls are doing; drawing a line up my bare leg with a bit of eyeliner!’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘I might!’
They laughed again and Annabel found herself smiling along with them. That was actually quite a good idea. She imagined how her legs would look from behind if Hans were watching her.
She laughed as she pictured him finding out the lines rising up under her skirt were not real stockings, but were just painted on her skin and would rub off under his warm hands and lips.
The incongruity of that image in this setting made her laugh all the harder.
‘Dear oh dear!’ Annabel’s father shook his head, but Bill just chuckled.
Annabel tried to control her giggles by clamping her fingers across her mouth, but then she got the hiccups. She almost laughed again as she watched her father manage a thin smile so he didn’t look like a bad sport in front of Reggie’s father, but she guessed the women’s cheerfulness was irritating him.
As the laughter died down, Moira sighed loudly.
‘Oh, it’s nice to laugh for a change,’ she said. ‘I feel as though I’m on edge all the time, worrying about Reggie and the war. I don’t know about the rest of you, but the letters I’m getting from him seem increasingly … fraught.’
Then she leaned forward over the table, and said: ‘It’s lovely to see you looking so well, Annabel, dear.’
Annabel hadn’t seen the Pattersons for months, not since that day back in May when Reggie had been home on leave and there had been that horrible scene at the restaurant.
She imagined the difference between who she was then and who she was now must be striking. She felt happier, more confident.
She’d needed Reggie’s mollycoddling protection in the past, but not any more. In all honesty, she couldn’t say that she was no longer a needy person, but she needed a different person now. A secret person.
‘Um, thank you,’ she replied.
Of course, she’d been turning thoughts of running away with Hans over and over in her mind. It was easy to get lost in the romance of it; the joy of being together, the joy of escape. But as soon as she opened a little door in her head to let in the daydreams of a life with Hans, other thoughts flooded in to drown out the pleasant ones – thoughts of organising logistics, leaving the boy and Reggie and her family, figuring out where to go, and how on earth they could possibly hope to avoid capture. Wouldn’t running away together be hurtling headlong into trouble rather than the best way of escaping it? She tried to clear her head and concentrate on what her mother-in-law was saying.
‘Honestly,’ Moira insisted, ‘you look really – I don’t know how to describe it – you just look really well in yourself.’
Annabel wondered if it was as obvious to the others as it was to her that Moira was being pointed. She seemed to be annoyed, not pleased, that Annabel wasn’t as broken as she used to be. And she seemed to be implying Annabel wasn’t as worried about Reggie as her.
‘Thanks, Moira. That’s nice of you to say so.’
The others were looking at her across the table now to see what Annabel’s mother-in-law was noticing. They nodded and murmured similar sentiments. Annabel’s face was hot. She was embarrassed to find herself the centre of attention so suddenly, and felt resentful that Moira had thrust her into that position. She also felt something else. Something more confusing.
They think I’m perfectly fine, she thought. Besides Moira, some of them are sitting here admiring me; they think: isn’t she coping admirably despite the absence of her husband? They’re shocked that little Annabel is doing all right by herself.
Annabel was irritated that Reggie’s parents, and her own, all assumed she was incompetent. But now she was surprised to find she didn’t like being thought of as strong either.
She liked being someone who had to be looked after, and was comfortable drifting along in life’s current. She didn’t want to have to make decisions, and then act on them, come what may.
‘It was nice to see Moira and Bill again,’ Elizabeth said later, as they walked along the street in the summer evening. It was after eight o’clock but the leafy streets were still bathed in sunshine. They’d left the Pattersons and their neighbours at the beach and were now strolling towards the station, where her parents would see her and the boy off before going to their bed and breakfast.
‘I used to really enjoy having tea with them after church while you and Reggie were courting,’ she added.
‘Mmm. It’s a shame they had to move here for Bill’s job.’
Annabel’s father and the boy had fallen behind, and when she glanced back she saw they were both ambling along with their hands clasped behind their backs, although they didn’t appear to be talking.
‘Moira certainly seemed to think you’re looking well.’
‘Yes. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. I felt all shy.’
‘It’s funny, Annabel, but as soon as Moira said it I knew exactly what she meant.’
‘Oh?’
They paused and turned to face each other as they drew level with the station entrance, and stood for
a moment to wait for the others to catch up. So it wasn’t just Annabel who’d felt the undercurrent beneath Moira’s words at lunch.
Elizabeth leaned back against the wall and watched her daughter.
‘You do seem a bit different somehow.’
Annabel felt a horrible tingling sensation, as though a big spider had just crawled into her chest to lie across her heart. She felt suddenly breathless.
‘Different? How?’
She turned to look for her father and the boy, but they’d stopped to examine something on the ground and were still some way away. She had no choice but to face her mother.
‘It’s hard to put my finger on, but …’
The spider shifted; raised its spindly legs, revealed its beady eyes, its fangs.
‘Well …?’
‘Well, look at what you’re wearing!’
‘What?!’ She looked down at her pink blouse.
‘It’s a bit low cut, isn’t it? You’re a respectable married woman, Annabel, not … And what Moira was saying – well, you do look good in yourself. You seem, almost … happy.’
‘Ha! You want me to be unhappy?’
‘Stop it. I’m trying to explain. I haven’t seen you happy for a long time. Not since you and Reggie were courting, and then when you were carrying Daniel. Of course I want you to be happy. But …’
‘But what?’
‘It’s just not seemly for you to be so carefree. There, I’ve said it!’ She shook her head as if she were relieved the words had left her mouth, but she continued talking: ‘Your husband’s away fighting, he’s in terrible danger, you’re having to raise that child all by yourself, and we’re in the middle of a war, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
A sick sense of shame – always close to the surface – flared inside Annabel and the spider rubbed its legs together deliciously. Annabel’s voice was wobbly when she spoke and her eyes were very full. She felt defensive.
‘I’m not happy about any of that! I’m just trying to make the best of things, that’s all! Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?’
A movement at the corner of her eye alerted her to the fact that the boy had crept up on them.
She whirled to face him. ‘Do you mind?’
He looked up at her in surprise.
‘Shoo! Haven’t you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat? Besides, it’s rude to eavesdrop!’
‘Come along, Daniel,’ her father said as he walked up, and led him into the station.
‘Of course you’re supposed to make the best of things, dear. But the way you’ve been acting lately, it’s not like that. It’s as if you’re enjoying yourself. And that’s not right at all.’
Annabel rubbed along her lower lashes with the tips of her fingers to remove the tears already pooling there.
‘I’m not,’ was all she could manage.
‘I thought it when I saw you for Father’s birthday, and the last few times I’ve spoken to you on the telephone … You’ve got responsibilities, Annabel. You’ve got Daniel. And frankly, he seems a bit distracted himself – daydreaming all the time. You paid no attention to him at lunch – but his table manners were atrocious. And I can’t help thinking he’s starting to look a bit … well, almost unkempt. But it’s as if you’re just oblivious to all of it—’
‘Please!’
Her mother sighed. ‘What is it, dear? I know Reggie’s good to you. But you never talk about wanting him home. Anyone would think you’re pleased to be living by yourself.’
‘I’m not! I’m not!’
‘Well. All right then. There’s no need to get upset. Just think about it. Acting as though everything’s fine is just … It’s not the done thing. All right?’
‘All right.’
Annabel’s mother nodded, satisfied. ‘Good. Then let’s say no more about it.’
And the spider in her chest settled back down and her heart slowly began to return to a normal rhythm as they walked inside the station to wait for their train. But Annabel’s mind was still whirring, whirring, whirring.
By the next morning, she realised she was being silly to put so much stock into what Reggie’s emotional mother – and her own – had said. Why, all she’d done was giggle at one of their jokes at lunch and now she was being lambasted for it. What was ‘unseemly’ about laughing? Or about wearing a pretty top? The cheek of it!
She was determined to push such trivial complaints to one side as she hurried through the woods, lest it spoil her mood before she reached Hans.
She broke into a little run as she entered the orchard, while the rational part of her scanned the trees for strangers before calling out his name.
He scooped her up as she jumped into him, almost knocking him over, and they were both laughing even as they tried to kiss.
Later, they lay on the grass outside the shed. He was on his back while her head rested on his bare chest. He’d pulled on trousers and boots and she was back in her skirt and blouse.
‘How did you learn to speak English so well?’
She glanced up to see his crooked smile, but she knew he enjoyed the questions.
‘You know this! I studied it at university. But first I learned it at school when I was a little boy in Mittenwald. Then when I was about thirteen to maybe sixteen, my father’s job – he was the boss of a big company that made shoes – made us move around. We spent some time in England, in Liverpool, where his company had a factory. When we went to other places in Europe the common language was always English when I needed to speak to someone in a shop or something like that. Actually, I used to think I might like to be an English teacher, so I went to university, but then the war …’
‘Did you go to school when you lived in Liverpool?’
‘No, no. While we were moving a lot, my father gave me schoolbooks to read.’
‘I’ve never been up north.’
Hans shifted and they both sat up. He tried to smooth his unruly fair hair back into a neat side parting, then pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered her one, but she shook her head. He was a frantic smoker; he sucked furiously and his cigarette was reduced to a column of ash in just a few puffs.
‘I used to think about being an architect too,’ he said. ‘I wanted to design great buildings.’ He laughed.
Annabel laughed with him. She was having a wonderful day.
‘In the summers I worked for my father’s shoe company, and travelled a lot, all over Europe. I loved looking at all the buildings in the different cities.’
‘How exciting!’ But she was also thinking about how easy things sounded for him. All those options. He knew what he wanted to do and could simply set about doing it.
She smiled at him. ‘Now, you’re here. And I’m so glad!’
He didn’t say anything, but looked away as he finished his cigarette. The sun had lightened his hair since she’d first met him, and now his face and chest were a warm copper colour.
His mood seemed to have shifted and she didn’t ask any more questions. An awkward silence invaded the little glen; all roads lead to things we can’t talk about, she thought.
He jumped up and stamped on the tip of the cigarette with the heavy tread of his work boot.
‘We have to leave here, Annie – you must know that.’
‘It’s difficult, Hans. Just let me think! Everyone says the war will be over soon, maybe we should just wait a bit longer and see how—’
‘No, we have to talk about this! This is not a game, a fairy-tale romance, what we are doing; it’s dangerous. Why won’t you talk about us leaving? You have to—’
‘Oh!’ Annabel cried, as an old collie dog bounded into the clearing and jumped up at Hans. He bent quickly to rub the dog’s ears and flanks before it could bark for attention.
‘Quick! Quick! It’s Dawson! He’s coming!’ he hissed.
And sure enough, Annabel thought she could hear the old man’s wheezing and lumbering footfalls. She bolted like a rabbit running for its burrow an
d hoped Mr Dawson wouldn’t hear her or see the bright yellow of her skirt darting through the trees. She forced herself to slow down when she came to the forest path.
She’d been careless – she should have taken her trolley today as she usually did, then she could have pretended she had just arrived to buy some wood.
She managed to make it back to the lane without meeting anyone, but it had been a close call, she had to admit.
It was only as she approached her front gate that she saw the Home Guard man, Mr Higgins, leaning against her front door waiting for her.
‘Ah, is this about my vegetable patch?’ she said, desperately trying to think of excuses.
‘No, no. A different matter altogether, Mrs Patterson.’
She swallowed nervously. He couldn’t possibly know. Could he?
‘Where have you been?’
She closed the gate behind her and stood looking at him at the other end of her path. ‘Sorry? Oh – I was just out for a walk.’
‘I see.’ He looked at her hard.
‘I … fancied some fresh air.’
‘You’ve been gone a long time. You were one of the first houses I knocked at this afternoon, and I’ve visited every house on this street and still been here ten minutes waiting for you to come back.’
‘Oh dear, I am sorry. Would you like to come in?’
‘No, thank you. I’ve got more houses to visit after this.’
‘Well, how can I help?
‘Did you know Simon Moore?’
‘Evelyn’s husband? Yes, I met him a few times. Such sad news.’
‘He was my cousin,’ Higgins said. ‘By way of marriage.’
‘Oh, I had no idea … I’m so sorry.’
‘Well, that’s by the by. Since he was killed by the Hun, people have naturally been talking. It seems to have opened people’s eyes finally.’
‘Um, yes of course,’ Annabel said, although she didn’t really understand what he was getting at.
‘There’s a petition going round. About getting more restraints on the PoWs.’
‘Restraints?’
‘Of course. I know some bleeding hearts in this village think they’re no different from us, but we mustn’t forget they’re the enemy. It’s ridiculous they’re allowed to walk around unescorted, and work without supervision and the like.’
