Daughter of Riches

by Janet Tanner

  Unless it happened to be a face you had loved with all your heart, a face that still crept into your dreams … Sophia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of herself.

  The soldiers fanned out and began their search. One partially disappeared up the big old chimney, another tipped the macaroni she had been saving for a pudding out of its jar on to the bare table top. Dieter, rifling through the balls of wool she had painstakingly unpicked to make a new jumper, glanced up at her and as their eyes met again, her stomach fell away. Fear, she thought. It couldn’t be anything else … could it? But even as she formulated the thought and her own quick denial she knew it was not true. The war had not changed the way she felt about Dieter. Nothing ever would. The insistent flickering flame that was running through her now like the long slow fuse of some explosive device would ignite the self-same volcano of desire, given half a chance, as it had done in the balmy days of peace when Dieter had been a waiter and she had been no more than an innocent child.

  I love him, she thought. God help me, in spite of everything I still love him.

  The officer was barking commands at his men in German; because of the lessons that had been forced upon them at school she could understand what he said. Like most Jersey children she had felt it was patriotic to make a poor showing at the lessons but with her natural ear for languages a certain amount had stuck. Now, with a pang of fear, she heard the officer issue his instructions. ‘Upstairs! And don’t forget to look under the floorboards!’

  Dieter moved towards the stairs and Sophia stood quite still, sick with terror, as she heard the thuds and creaks as drawers were thrown open and furniture pushed about. A tapping sound almost immediately above her head told her he was testing for loose floorboards. He would find the hiding place – he was bound to. A moment later she heard the familiar squeak that she normally heard every evening when she lifted the board to take out the wireless and listen to the world news and she froze, almost afraid to breathe. What would Dieter do? She waited for his shout of triumph, almost fainting with the strain of it. But instead she heard a squeak as the board was replaced, and further sounds of a search. The moments ticked by and at last Dieter reappeared.

  ‘Did you find anything?’ the officer asked.

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing up there.’

  His face was totally expressionless. Only when his eyes, narrowed and somehow full of knowledge, flicked over her, was she sure. Dieter hadn’t been careless, he hadn’t been blind. He had found the wireless set but he was not going to give her away. Joy rushed through her like a bush fire, a joy that owed even more to knowing that he must still care something for her than to her overwhelming relief, then, close on its heels, a new fear, not for herself and Catherine, but for Dieter.

  Suppose the officer wasn’t satisfied? Suppose he ordered another search and one of the others rechecked the space beneath the loose floorboard? Dieter would be in even more serious trouble than they would be; with conditions deteriorating daily she felt sure the time when they could expect anything approaching normal decent human behaviour from their captors was over. Hungry, beaten and cornered they would turn on the islanders and on one another.

  One of the soldiers was emptying her potato sack; she tore her eyes from Dieter’s and snapped at the man angrily: ‘What do you think you are doing? Don’t let them roll about the floor! They are very precious to us if not to you!’

  ‘All right, put them back,’ the officer ordered. ‘ There’s nothing here. It would seem we received a false report. Think yourselves lucky – this time anyway.’

  Sophia did not dare to so much as glance at Dieter. She stood quite still, fingers laced tightly together to control her trembling. Only when the big old motor roared throatily away down the lane did she relax and when she did so her legs finally gave way and she sank to the floor, hands pressed to her face, breath coming in ragged sobs.

  ‘They didn’t find it!’ Catherine shouted jubilantly. ‘They didn’t find it, Sophia!’

  It was a long time before Sophia could trust herself to speak and when she did it was through teeth that chattered. ‘Oh yes they, did.’

  ‘They did! Then why …?’

  ‘It was Dieter,’ she whispered. ‘Didn’t you recognise him? It was Dieter. He found the radio. And he didn’t give us away.’

  Bernard heard of the Germans’ visit to the Carteret cottage from one of his colleagues who had driven past and seen the patrol car parked outside. Beside himself with anxiety, since he was one of the few people who knew of the existence of Sophia‘s crystal set, he gobbled his tea, much to the disgust of his mother who had spent the best part of a day trying to put together a satisfying meal, got out his bicycle and rode over to St Peter.

  Since the day he had asked her to many him, the relationship between Sophia and Bernard had changed subtly. There was an understanding between them and a warmth; sometimes Sophia would sit in the circle of his arm and respond to his kisses with an almost desperate hunger, though that was as far as their physical union went. At other times there was an awkwardness which showed itself in small strained silences or outright coldness. They no longer went out together, for Sophia refused to leave Catherine alone, and Bernard had to be content with the shared evenings in the small cramped kitchen with Catherine never further away than her own room upstairs.

  But it was not only circumstances that had changed, Bernard realised. Sophia had changed too. She was harder, more brittle, and she seemed to have lost her capacity for fun. Often he felt he did not know her at all. But he still loved her and liked to think he was of some support to her whether she showed her appreciation or not.

  When he arrived at the house that, evening, a little out of breath from having ridden too hard, Bernard was almost afraid of what he might find. But to his relief Sophia was in the kitchen, composed, if a little pale and drawn, and Catherine seemed almost beside herself with excitement.

  ‘Bernard!’ she squealed when she saw him. ‘You’ll never guess what! The Germans came, searching for our cat’s whisker!’

  Bernard felt the pit of his stomach drop away. ‘They didn’t find it?’

  ‘Well yes, they did, but …’

  ‘Catherine!’ Sophia said sharply. ‘Can’t you ever stop babbling? I should have thought you’d have learned your lesson by now.’

  ‘But it’s only Bernard …’

  ‘I know it’s Bernard – and I know what you’re going to say. Please don’t!’ Sophia ordered fiercely.

  Bernard looked from one to the other of them, puzzled and disturbed.

  ‘What happened, then?’

  ‘They searched but must have missed it,’ Sophia told him. ‘Under the floorboards is obviously a good place. Though I don’t know whether I ought to risk leaving it there any longer. They might come back.’

  ‘You want me to get rid of it for you?’ Bernard asked. He still could not understand Sophia’s outburst but equally he felt this was not the moment to probe.

  Sophia’s eyes had gone far away. For a moment it seemed doubtful she had even heard him.

  ‘Sophia?’ He repeated the offer and she shook her head decisively.

  ‘Oh no, no. You mustn’t take a chance like that, Bernard. When it’s dark I’ll put it in a hiscuit tin and bury it in the garden. There’s nowhere in the house that’s safe. They looked everywhere.’

  Again the inconsistency struck him.

  There was something here he did not understand, something that made him feel both hurt and angry without knowing why, but instinct was warning him not to question too deeply.

  But at least Sophia was safe. Really, to Bernard, nothing else in the world really mattered.

  Chapter fifteen

  Two nights later Sophia was in the garden taking in the washing when she became aware she was being watched. She spun around, on the point of screaming because her nerves were still in tatters, to see Dieter standing there.

  She knew it was him though she could not see his fac
e, would have known him anywhere even though the uniform of the Feldgendarmerie made him almost anonymous, and her heart seemed almost to stop beating. Somehow, deep down, she had known he would come though she had told herself not to be foolish, that he was a member of the occupying forces now, light years removed from the gentle young waiter she had fallen in love with.

  She had known and she had hoped but she had also been afraid – because of who he now was and afraid of her own powerful emotions. But now as she looked towards the shadowy figure in German uniform she felt nothing but fierce joy.

  ‘Dieter?’ she said huskily.

  He came towards her and the last of the fading light showed her the uncertainty in his face. ‘Hello, Sophia. Forgive me but I had to come back and see you – talk to you. The other night … I couldn’t believe it when we came into the cottage to search and I saw it was you. I mean, I wondered if you were still in Jersey and if we might meet. But I never expected … well, not out here in St Peter, anyway.’

  ‘Your people took over our house, didn’t you know?’

  ‘Well yes, I did know that,’ he said awkwardly. ‘And I want to tell you how sorry I am for what has happened here. I couldn’t let you think …’

  ‘Look, it’s beginning to get cold,’ she interrupted him. ‘Are you going to come inside?’

  He hesitated and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse. Then he said: ‘You don’t mind having a German in your home?’

  ‘Oh Dieter – don’t be silly! I don’t think of you as a German! We know one another too well for that.’

  ‘What about the girl who was here with you the other night? Was that your sister, grown up?’

  ‘That was Catherine, yes. And she’s here now. But there isn’t anyone else. We’re … on our own now.’

  ‘I see.’

  No, you don’t, she thought. She unpegged the last of the washing and tossed it into the basket. It was necessary, somehow, to carry on with normal everyday things. When she went to lift the basket Dieter, gentlemanly as ever, took it from her and carried it into the kitchen.

  Catherine was sitting at the table doing her homework. She looked up in surprise as they came in. ‘Oh!’ she said, faintly accusing. ‘It’s you!’

  ‘Catherine!’ Sophia warned. She turned to Dieter. ‘Dieter, I have to thank you for what you did the other night. I … we … are very grateful.’

  Dieter shrugged. ‘Don’t thank me. But I hope there is no longer anything in this house which could prove dangerous to you.’

  ‘Why, you think they will come back?’ Sophia asked, alarmed.

  ‘Not this time. But someone informed against you. They may do so again.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Sophia asked. ‘Do you know?’

  ‘Does it matter? Surely all that is important is that if a search is made there is nothing to be found. Don’t take chances, Sophia. Especially not now.’

  ‘Oh I know all about the risks,’ Sophia said bitterly. ‘Mama took a risk and she and Papa were deported for it.’

  Dieter went white. ‘Deported – where to?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ve never heard a word since the day they were taken. At the time it was said they were going to a concentration camp in Germany but I really don’t know. And Nicky was wounded in the fighting, very early on, and Paul took Papa’s boat and sailed for England. That was the reason I had the wireless, to try and keep some sort of contact with them. I knew it could get us into trouble but I just didn’t care any more.’

  ‘I understand,’ Dieter said seriously. ‘Believe me, Sophia, I do understand. And I am sorry. Very sorry.’

  ‘You are sorry?’

  ‘Yes. Such dreams we had, but nothing has turned out the way we expected. And now it never will …’

  Sophia looked at him sharply. She was not quite sure what he meant.

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ she offered. ‘ It won’t be anything very exciting, I’m afraid, just tea made of blackberry leaves, but …’

  ‘Thank you. Yes.’

  Catherine pushed back her chair noisily. ‘ Excuse me.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘Upstairs. To my room.’ She went out without a word to Dieter.

  ‘She has a lot of homework to do,’ Sophia said, trying to excuse her sister but there was no mistaking that Catherine had left her pile of books behind. Dieter smiled ruefully.

  ‘Don’t worry, Sophia. I’m used to it. I am afraid we are all looked upon as monsters.’

  ‘It’s hardly surprising, is it, considering what you’ve done to us? Hatred and contempt are about all we have left. They help us keep our self-respect. When we see a German uniform on the street we don’t look beyond it – it means the enemy.’

  ‘But many of these soldiers are good men – ordinary men with wives and families at home. If only you could understand that they are prisoners just as you are then perhaps it would be easier for all of us.’

  ‘We don’t want to think of them like that,’ Sophia said. ‘We don’t want to think about them at all. But it’s different with you, Dieter. You’re not one of them to us. We know you.’

  ‘But I am one of them. And anyway I don’t suppose your sister remembers me. I would certainly never have known her. She was just a little girl when I was here.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. Oh Dieter, where is it all going to end?’

  ‘I am very much afraid it will end with a defeat for Germany, and pretty soon, too. Things have not gone our way – I don’t know why. In the beginning I was so sure victory would be ours. It seemed only right that we would prevail. And we were strong, so strong. Yet somehow we have managed to run ourselves into a corner. Perhaps if the Americans had not come in it would be different. But that is all for the history books now. And what I am wondering is this. When we hold up our hands and say ‘‘ It’s all over’’, when the world learns of the things that have been done in the name of our great Fatherland, what is to become of us?’

  His blue eyes were shadowed and he had suddenly a haunted look of defeat. Looking at him Sophia found herself remembering the young man, proud and confident, who had frightened her with his unexpected outburst of blind patriotism when war had been brewing. ‘France and England will not take on Germany. They know they would never win,’ he had said then and his eyes had burned with fanaticism, like so many other young men and women who had been wooed by oratory and emotion into Hitler’s Youth Movement. The fervour had gone now; in its place was disillusion and shame. They had been duped, all of them, hypnotised by a monster. Now their country was in ruins, their national pride severely dented. Yet still they had to fight on, for Hitler had decreed that the Channel Islands and Cherbourg must be defended to the last man.

  ‘Once that pig Hitler is gone it will be all right,’ she said. ‘You will be able to begin to rebuild, you’ll see.’

  ‘But will the world forgive us? Will we be able to forgive ourselves?’

  Sophia turned her attention to the kettle which was boiling at last. She didn’t want to answer that.

  She strained the tea into the cups and passed one to Dieter. It had a strange colour and the smell, pungent and earthy, was not appetising. I’m not getting used to it at all, Sophia thought as she sipped slowly. If anything I like it less.

  ‘What a long time ago now it seems since I was here, working for your father,’ Dieter said. ‘Do you remember when we used to ride around the island on our bicycles? They were happy times, weren’t they?’

  She nodded without replying. They had been happy times. Now they had gone forever along with her youth and innocence and so many of her dreams. Sophia felt a terrible ache of sadness as she thought of it, remembering how very young she had been, how ignorant of the fact that the long sunlit days would not last forever.

  ‘I think of them often. Especially since I have been back here in Jersey. But it is all so changed now.’

  ‘It’s a good thing we didn’t know then what was going
to happen to us,’ she said. ‘It must be a terrible curse to be able to see into the future.’

  ‘I suppose so. But sometimes I think, if I had known, if I had seen, could I have made it any different?’

  ‘I doubt it. You couldn’t have stayed in Jersey. Mama would still have sent you home. And what could you have done to stop what has happened? You are just as powerless as we are. We’re just pawns, Dieter, little people. When it comes to something like this there’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘But our own lives, surely we can determine what happens there?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sophia said. ‘Oh yes, I’ve thought about that a good deal. And I have promised myself, when this is over I am going to take control of my life, and nobody is ever going to push me around or make me drink disgusting blackberry tea ever again!’

  The moment the words were out she thought they sounded so ridiculous he must laugh at her. It was true, she had promised herself those very things, lying in her bed, sleepless from hunger and anxiety, but she had never said them to anyone. Now she glanced away, embarrassed. But Dieter did not laugh. He sat in silence for a few moments, looking at her. Then, tentatively, he reached out and touched her hand, curled protectively around her mug of tea.

  Sophia’s heart seemed to stop beating. Such a tiny touch, and yet it seemed as if her whole world were reduced to the area where his fingers brushed hers.

  ‘Did you think of me, Sophia?’ Dieter asked.

  She nodded wordlessly.

  ‘And I thought of you. Often.’

  ‘But you didn’t write. You promised me you would write.’

  ‘I did. And you did not reply. I wrote again and still you did not reply. I thought you had forgotten me.’

  ‘I never got any letter,’ Sophia said. ‘I thought you had forgotten me!’

  ‘This I do not understand …’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters now. You’re …’ She broke off. ‘You’re here,’ she had been going to say, and she knew she must not. It was too soon, far too soon to be so presumptive.