Daughter of Riches

by Janet Tanner

  The blow dazed her; she seemed to be whirling in a world of pain, scarcely aware any more what he was doing to her. Even when he had finished with her she lay for long minutes unable to move from the ungainly position into which she had fallen. Her head was throbbing and so was her body but they were not in unison, the pain jarred and danced a syncopating but totally uncoordinated rhythm. Slowly she eased herself up. The German was lying on the floor beside her, sleek and replete, and the sight of him made bile rise in her throat. She lurched into a sitting position, hatred burning in herlike a cold fire.

  It was then that she saw his service revolver lying on the floor. Scarcely knowing what she was doing she snatched at it, turning it in shaking sweat-damp hands to face him.

  ‘You bastard, will you get out now?’ she grated through chattering teeth.

  He sat up abruptly and as she saw the alarm in his light eyes she suddenly realised just how easy it would be to kill him. One tiny movement of her index finger and she could blow that handsome hateful face apart. One tiny movement and this German would never terrify or bully or rape ever again.

  ‘I am going to shoot you,’ she said.

  She saw a muscle move in his cheek and the twitch of a nerve in his throat. But his voice was very calm, very level.

  ‘If you shoot me you too will die.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ she sobbed. ‘ What do I care about dying?’

  ‘You don’t want to die for something so stupid. You won’t shoot me. You can’t do it. Now, give the gun to me.’ Slowly, very slowly, his hand inched towards hers. ‘ Come on, give it to me.’

  The cold eyes met hers unwaveringly and she felt her wrist begin to shake. He was right, she thought suddenly, she couldn’t do it. With a muffled sob she let her hand, holding the gun, drop to her side and her head bowed to her chest. Oh Jesus Christ, she couldn’t do it! She’d had her chance and she couldn’t do it …

  At that very moment the door opened and Dieter came in. He stood for a moment, taking in the scene. Sophia wanted to run to him but she could not move. She was very ashamed, suddenly, as if it had all been her fault.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ he demanded.

  The officer began to babble in German, waving his arms. Sophia could only guess at what he was saying but the thought that he might be trying to excuse himself incensed her.

  ‘He raped me!’ she cried. ‘He got in here by pretending he had a message from you and then he raped me!’

  ‘Raped? Ha! You asked for it!’

  ‘How can you say that?’ She looked down, saw the gun still in her hand, and turned to Dieter, sobbing. ‘I wanted to shoot him, Dieter. I wanted to kill him. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it!’

  ‘I see.’ Dieter’s face was white with rage. ‘This is what your friends were sniggering about, was it? They knew what you had in mind.’

  ‘They followed you here, Dieter, the other night. They were watching us …’ She broke off, suddenly very afraid. Dieter’s eyes were blazing, his nostrils flared.

  ‘You did what?’

  Sophia saw the first flicker of alarm in the other German’s face. ‘Oh come on, Dieter, can’t you take a joke?’

  ‘A joke? You call this a joke? All right, you bastard, you’ve got it coming to you.’

  ‘Who from?’ the officer sneered.

  ‘From me.’ Dieter drew his gun, levelling it at his heart.

  White hot terror shot through Sophia. ‘Dieter – no! Please – you mustn’t!’

  ‘Why not? I shall do what you did not have the stomach for, Sophia. I am going to kill him.’

  ‘Dieter – please – no!’

  ‘You are mad!’ the officer blustered. ‘You won’t get away with this!’

  ‘I don’t care any more. I am a German, and I am proud of it. At least, I was. Not any more. These last years I have learned to feel ashamed of my birthright, ashamed of my fellow countrymen. Some of the things that have been done have been inhuman. They will not be forgotten for generations. And all the time I have been forced to remain quiet and do what was required of me. Sometimes I have asked myself – how can I live with this? I have tried to do only what I believed to be right but still I am ashamed. The end of the war is coming. Soon we will have to answer – all of us. And when they ask me – what did you do, Dieter? I shall tell them. I shot the man who defiled my lovely Sophia. It was not much but it was the least I could do.’

  Kurt laughed harshly. ‘If you shoot me you won’t live to tell anyone anything. The Kommandant will see to that.’

  ‘Then Sophia, she will tell them. She will tell my father and my mother I died because I executed a rapist. Come on, outside, you bastard.’

  ‘Why don’t you do it here?’

  ‘And have Sophia arrested for complicity? No, she has suffered enough. Outside!’

  The gun was in the officer’s ribs now, prodding him towards the door.

  ‘Dieter – don’t do this! I don’t want you to do it for me!’ Sophia caught at his arm. He shook himself free.

  ‘Just give me his gun liebchen. Don’t worry, no one will connect you with this.’

  ‘Please, Dieter – no! I’m all right, really – he didn’t hurt me …’

  But Dieter was beyond the reach of reason. His gun urged the officer down the path and into the darkness.

  ‘Go back inside and lock the door!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Go on – do as I tell you!’

  Sophia stood in the doorway, hands pressed against her mouth, unable to move or speak as the darkness swallowed them. He wouldn’t do it, would he? And then, loud and chilling in the stillness of the night, the shot rang out.

  As Sophia stood, frozen with fear and shock, Catherine came running up the path, breathless and frightened. ‘Sophia, what is it? What’s going on? There are Germans in the lane. There was a shot.’

  Somehow Sophia pulled herself together. Protecting Catherine was all important now. ‘ I don’t know. It’s none of our business.’ She grabbed the frightened child, bundled her inside and slammed the door shut. ‘Draw the curtains. I have some clearing up to do and then we are going to put out the light and go to bed. And whatever we hear outside we are not going to investigate. Do you hear me?’

  ‘But I don’t understand. You know something, don’t you? Something happened here tonight.’

  Sophia shook her head. It was all too terrible and she did not know where to begin. Besides it was safest for Catherine if she knew nothing.

  ‘There’s no time now. I’ll explain tomorrow,’ was all she said.

  Chapter sixteen

  It was a nightmare, a nightmare from which she could not wake. It followed her around every moment of the day and disturbed what little sleep she was able to get at night. The terrible events of that evening had left her body sore and bruised and her nerves raw, and added to this was the constant terrible anxiety for Dieter. She had not heard what had happened to him, no one seemed to know anything beyond the gossip and speculation that was bound to follow the shooting of an officer of the Feldgendarmerie on a public highway, and Sophia was afraid to ask too many questions in case she aroused suspicion and put Catherine in some kind of danger.

  But oh, the wondering was sheer agony. Did they know it was Dieter who had shot the officer? Had he been caught, or was he on the run? Might he turn up at the cottage seeking shelter? She didn’t think so – he had been as anxious to protect her as she was to protect Catherine, but supposing he did – what would she do? The questions plagued her, running round and round inside her head until she thought she was going mad. And always the most important one of all – will I ever see him again? Will we ever be together again?

  Deep down Sophia knew she could expect nothing but the worst. Yet still she hoped. And the hope seemed to be the greatest torture of all.

  She heard the news at the village shop when she was queuing for what meagre rations were available. A German had given himself up in connection with the roadside shooting at St P
eter – just gone to his commanding officer and given himself up. He had heard there were bound to be repercussions in the district if the culprit was not caught, it was said, so for some reason he had simply admitted it. Goodness only knew why – after all, he was bound to be executed for such a serious crime.

  The words seemed to echo in her head and Sophia held tight to the handle of her shopping basket as if it were a lifeline. Execution. Dieter was going to be executed. For a moment Sophia thought she was going to faint then she thought she was going to cry. She turned and blundered out of the shop, oblivious to the curious stares that followed her, wanting nothing but to get home.

  She half ran, half walked, legs trembling, breath coming in harsh uneven gasps. Out of the village, along the lane … and suddenly she remembered she had to pass the spot where it had happened.

  It was not the first time, of course, but somehow on the other occasions she had managed to screw herself up and look the other way. Even when the Feldgendarmerie had been there examining the grass verge for clues she had managed to hold her head high and walk by. Not today. Today the dark stain on the gravel where they had not quite washed the blood away seemed to leap out at her. Here Dieter had shot the officer who had raped her. And for that Dieter was now going to be executed.

  For days Sophia had felt nauseous, now it gripped her stomach with an iron hand. Tearing her eyes away from the dark stains on the roadside she began to run, but she was still within sight of the scene of the shooting when the sickness overcame her and she doubled up, vomiting into the hedgerow while the helpless tears ran down her cheeks.

  ‘Sophia, are you pregnant?’ Catherine asked. Sophia started, taken by surprise by the directness of the question. Ever since she had begun to suspect it herself she had known the moment, must come, of course, but she had delayed it, dreading the look of revulsion she would see on Catherine’s face, dreading the fact that talking about it would make it somehow more real. ‘Well?’ Catherine demanded. ‘Are you?’

  She was no longer a child, Sophia thought. The war had made her grow up very quickly. But even so there was no easy way to say this – and, with Catherine’s eyes upon her like twin searchlights, no way to lie either.

  ‘Yes. I think I am,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh Sophia!’

  ‘I know – I know. It’s a nightmare. I keep telling myself I can’t be … but I know I am.’

  The girls were silent for a moment, looking at one another. Then Catherine asked: ‘ What are you going to do?’

  Sophia shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  Another silence. Then Catherine said: ‘You know what they’ll call you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I know.’

  ‘A Jerry Bag. My sister. How could you? I’ll die of shame!’

  ‘How do you think I feel?’

  ‘You should have thought of that before you started associating with Germans. Oh yes. I know what you’ll say – what you always say. It was only Dieter. But Dieter was a German and you can’t trust them.’

  ‘It wasn’t Dieter’s fault!’ Sophia argued passionately. ‘I’ve told you, over and over again what happened. You just don’t want to listen.’

  ‘I’ve listened. And it’s horrible – sordid. All I can say is it’s a pity you didn’t shoot the officer who raped you while you had the chance. Why didn’t you do it, Sophia?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just couldn’t …’

  ‘I would have.’

  ‘You don’t know that. You never know what you’ll do until it happens to you. And if I had shot him I’d probably have been deported like Mama and Papa. What would happen to you then?’

  ‘I’d have managed. Anyway the war’s nearly over. They wouldn’t have deported you now. You should have shot him, Sophia. At least then you would have some pride left.’

  ‘All right, Catherine,’ Sophia retorted, stung. ‘ Don’t go on and on about it. Don’t you think I wish I had done it? If I had then Dieter wouldn’t have had to do it for me and he wouldn’t be under sentence of God knows what. And if you say you don‘t care what happens to him because he’s a German I swear I’ll never forgive you!’

  She pressed her hands to her mouth, swallowing at the lump of tears that had risen in her throat, angry with herself for seemingly being unable to control her emotions any more and angry with Catherine for her unforgiving attitude. She had been so sure her sister would understand when she explained what had happened. But all Catherine seemed to care about was what her friends would think.

  ‘Couldn’t you get rid of it?’ she said now.

  Sophia blinked. ‘Get rid of it? Catherine …’

  ‘Well you could try. Sylvie says all you need to do is to have a bath, really hot, and drink plenty of gin. Probably a whole bottle.’

  ‘What does Sylvie know about it?’ Sophia snapped. ‘You haven’t been talking about me to her, ‘I hope?’

  A faint colour rose in Catherine’s cheeks. ‘No, we were just talking generally …’ But she sounded unconvincing.

  ‘I see. Well, if all your friends already know it seems it’s a little late for me to cover up my condition, even supposing I could get hold of a bottle of gin, and even supposing it worked, which I doubt.’

  ‘You mean … you won’t even try?’ Catherine looked tearful suddenly.

  ‘No,’ Sophia said. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Look, Catherine, if I was sure that horrible man who raped me was the father perhaps I would try. But I’m not sure. It could be Dieter’s baby. Don’t you see? I can’t take the chance.’

  Catherine went even more red. ‘Dieter’s baby!’

  ‘It could be.’

  ‘Well you are a dark horse, aren’t you, Sophia?’

  ‘Catherine, please, please try to understand.’

  ‘Oh I understand all right,’ Catherine said bitterly. ‘I understand my sister has been going with Germans and now everybody is going to know about it. I’m not surprised that officer came here and raped you, Sophia. He’d probably heard how easy you were. And now the rest of Jersey will hear it too.’

  ‘Catherine, please … you don’t know how you’re upsetting me talking like this.’

  ‘I’m upsetting you! Well, that is rich! Let me tell you, Sophia, I am ready to die of shame. You knew what people think about girls who go with Germans but you had to carry right on, didn’t you? And you couldn’t even stop at seeing him. You had to let him … oh, it’s disgusting!’

  ‘It is not disgusting, Catherine. I love him!’

  ‘Love you call it? I call it being a Jerry Bag. A real, real, Jerry Bag. Well. I hope you are satisfied, Sophia. I just hope you are satisfied!’

  Sophia turned away, sick at heart. This was only the beginning, she knew. There would be plenty more in the same vein. But it was no use thinking about it, no use letting it get to her. That was just a waste of time and energy. She couldn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity either. Now that she knew for certain that she was going to have a baby she had far too much thinking and planning to do.

  There really was only one answer. She had known it, right from the beginning and tried not to think about it, not because it was such a terrible prospect but because it would mean that she had finally accepted she would never see Dieter again.

  Besides, she did not know whether she could summon up the courage to do it. All very well for Bernard to have told her that whenever she needed him, and for whatever reason, he would be there. Sophia was fairly sure that he had not been thinking those circumstances might include her being pregnant by someone else. He would be terribly hurt, she knew. He might even, with complete justification, tell her in no uncertain terms that it was not his problem. But desperate situations call for desperate measures and in all her life Sophia had never been more desperate.

  One night in early December when Bernard left the Electricity Works he saw a figure huddled under the wall in the gathering gloom. He did not take much notice. Although
it was only four o’clock it was almost dark and he bent his head against the biting wind. Then, as he drew level, she moved out of the shadows towards him and he stopped short, staring at her in surprise.

  ‘Sophia! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Well – I was waiting for you actually …’

  ‘Oh!’ Nothing could stop the searing flash of love and desire that she always excited in him but nowadays he knew to treat it with caution. Sophia was not in love with him no matter how much he might wish she was and it was time he realised it and stopped behaving like a lovelorn schoolboy.

  He had scarcely seen Sophia these last months. It had been back in the autumn, he remembered, when she had begun acting strangely, making all kinds of spurious excuses to put him off from visiting her, and in the end he had reluctantly come to the conclusion she did not want to see him any more and was trying to get rid of him without actually saying so. The knowledge had hurt him but he had made up his mind – he’d tried to win her, he’d given it his best shot and he had failed. Better to bow out gracefully. So he had simply stopped calling on her and when she had not made any attempt to contact him he had concluded that he must have been right in assuming she had been trying, very gently, to get rid of him.

  Now, he looked at the too-thin figure shivering in an overcoat that he recognised as being one that had once belonged to Lola, and felt his heart contract. But there was no sense of rising excitement as there might have been a year ago. His confidence had taken too many knocks since then.

  ‘Why are you waiting for me?’ he asked.

  She hesitated. No sign of the self-assured Sophia today.

  ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘No, not really. Could you come over?’

  ‘When?’