‘I wanted to say that I don’t want you to leave the island,’ he said, finally blurting out the words in a torrent. ‘I don’t want you to leave, not without me. I want you to stay here with me, and I will give everything to look after you.’
He couldn’t gauge her reaction. Was it shock? His heart thumped heavily in his chest, and he felt sick. He thought about walking away and forgetting everything he had said, to save himself from the embarrassment. But he could never walk away from her; he didn’t have it in him.
‘Oh, Jack,’ she said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. ‘You should have been a poet, not a policeman.’ He wasn’t sure if she was gently mocking him or not. She wiped away the tears with an index finger, then cleaned her hands on a nearby tea towel. ‘The only thing that makes staying on this island bearable is the thought that I will be with you. Even if most people treat me like an enemy. I’ve been through worse.’
She tried to smile again, but another wave of tears took over. As always he wondered what it truly was that had happened to her in Germany, but he knew not to push her on the subject.
With a sudden rush of confidence, he took hold of her, wrapping his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest. It felt natural, as if she was perfectly built to fit into that space, like a piece of a jigsaw. As if God had made them for each other. The smell of her hair was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, breathing her in. ‘I’m going nowhere,’ he said. ‘Not while you’re on the island. When the war is over we’ll be allowed to go to England or wherever we want and live out our lives in peace.’
They stood together like that for a few minutes, savouring the moment. Opening his eyes, he spotted the clock on the wall and gasped. ‘Look at the time!’ he said, loosening his embrace. ‘I have to go.’
Johanna laughed, and let go of him. ‘Bah, you’re always running away from me, Jack Godwin.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking between her and the clock. ‘If I didn’t have to get to work, I would stay. You know I would. I can barely stand to be apart from you.’ He bent down to kiss her, but she pulled away at the last second.
‘Not here. I will see you later. Take this.’ She picked up a brown, rectangular paper bag from the worktop and handed it to him. ‘Tell no one.’
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘It’s a sandwich. I know you won’t have had anything to eat yet.’ They hugged again, briefly, and he left the kitchen, almost running. Late again, he would be in trouble.
*
In the early hours of the morning, the school was dark and forbidding. An uneasy atmosphere rested over it like a black cloud. It was a place for learning, but on this occasion the parents would rather they were kept in the dark. When he had studied there it had been a different time. Parents were already bringing their children to the school, as Jack joined them. They arrived in small groups, sticking together, their short arms reaching up to clutch their parents’ outstretched hands, tighter than they ever had before. Some were going with their children, but for the others, who knew how long they would be separated? None of them could predict how long this war would last, how long it would be before the Germans expended their energy on their enemies’ guns, how long it would take for someone to force them back.
None of them had been given enough time to prepare, or to soften the blow for the children. The shock was still clear in the eyes of most of the people Jack passed as he headed towards the school. He was careful not to be too present as a policeman; he didn’t want to scare the children. More than one parent had a hastily bundled together collection of belongings to send with their children. Some of their cases had clothes poking out of the seams, ragged and fluttering in the wind. It was a sorry, desperate sight.
At the school gates, a group of teachers and other officials were checking documents and admitting those children who had the correct papers. As Jack walked up, a mother was hugging her son, who could have only been four or five years old. The officials, seeing Jack’s uniform, stepped aside to let him pass, but he waited for a moment to see what would happen. He could tell that she was trying her best, but tears threatened to escape the corners of her reddened eyes. Her voice broke. Her son simply stared idly around himself, blissfully ignorant of what was going on. ‘Now, you’re going on a great adventure,’ she said. ‘Once you get there your aunt May will be looking after you for a while.’
She stopped, catching herself again. Jack couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He couldn’t possibly imagine what these parents were going through. How that mother could stand it, he had no idea, but she had put her son’s life ahead of her own, and given the circumstances it was the right thing to do. Had Johanna’s parents gone through the same emotions when she had left her home?
He smiled at one of the teachers, but it was forced. He felt only sadness. Inside the school was a similar scene, one he suspected was duplicated across the island. Hundreds of children were standing around, looking lost. Some stood with one or two parents, but others were on their own and teachers were rounding them up, with smiles plastered on their faces.
‘We’re trying to make sure that there is no panic, Constable,’ a voice said from behind him. He turned to see a middle-aged man, dressed in a cheap brown suit. The man smiled at Jack, but like his own it lacked certainty. ‘As you can imagine,’ he continued, ‘it’s an uphill struggle. It’s why we’re making sure the parents say their goodbyes at the gate.’
He reached out a hand and Jack returned the gesture, receiving a vigorous shake. Jack was taken aback somewhat by the friendliness of the man. He remembered teachers as being sterner and more distant, and the usual reaction to the uniform was wariness.
‘An unenviable task, Headmaster,’ Jack said, nodding. ‘Times are difficult, and we can only do our best.’
‘Wise words, for a young man. If you don’t mind me saying?’
Jack shook his head. It was always nice to receive a compliment, and his teachers had never been that complimentary when he was in school. He didn’t feel that wise. ‘Thank you, but I’m just here to do my job.’
‘Of course. These children need escorting down to the harbour.’ He looked at his wristwatch. ‘The boats will be arriving soon and they won’t have long to get everyone on board. The longer we wait the less chance we have of getting them over to England.’
‘The boats will have to wait until they’re full. We won’t let them leave before they’re ready.’
‘Good luck with that. I’m sure the captains won’t want to wait around too long. Who knows when the Germans will come?’
Jack noted that he had said, ‘when’, not ‘if’.
A teacher looked over at the sound of their raised voices. She was kneeling down to talk to a child, and a frown crossed her face. The headmaster gestured for Jack to step back out into the reception. The early summer morning heat was coming in the front doors. ‘There are buses outside to take the children. We will organise them all, but I would appreciate it if you could escort them.’
‘Of course,’ Jack replied.
Outside the school a number of buses waited, silhouettes in the early morning gloom. The drivers stood by one cab, smoking cigarettes and chatting. A few minutes later the children appeared at the front of the school, in a line two abreast. The headmaster led them from the front, and it reminded Jack of the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin his grandfather had once told him when he was little. The concept of some mysterious figure leading an entire village of children off into the unknown had terrified him ever since.
The children were well behaved as they boarded the buses, either shocked into obedience by events, or encouraged by the teachers and attendant parents. Thankfully, the majority of the children had yet to work out exactly what was happening. That would not last forever. It took some time, but it was going more smoothly than Jack had expected.
*
The harbour was awash with activity. Men shouted orders at each other and soldiers rushed from one area to another
making sure that everything was in place. The air stank of brine and salt, fish mingled with the sweat of those at work. Not everyone in the harbour was wearing army-issue khaki, as various merchant ships were either returning from fishing trips or preparing to leave for Britain. The sun had risen above the horizon and lit the scene in its warm glow, making the work that little bit harder for everyone.
As the children climbed off the buses, volunteers attached brown labels to their lapels and led them towards the boats. They were getting more nervous as the strange situation dragged on, young murmurings of concern growing louder. Some mothers had gone against the states’ orders and come to the harbour to see their children off, unable to stay away. Mothers’ tears added to the already salty sea air, and those children who were more aware than others cried, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t be put on those horrible little boats that rocked against the tide.
There were queues forming at the ends of the piers, and people shuffled with impatience, waiting for the order to board. Some were being turned away as Jack went to join his colleagues. Whole families sat together on the ground, belongings piled up around them in the sweltering heat. Some had discarded their cars, unable to take them with them. None of them were sure that they would be allowed to leave, and it was clear on their faces.
Not everyone in the harbour was looking for a way to escape. Some were saying goodbye to loved ones who were going with the army, and Jack caught a glimpse of Beth as she said goodbye to her brother, who had been in the militia. Even though he was Jack’s age, Jack knew his sister much better. They had fallen into the same friendship group, and she had always enjoyed bossing him around. On any other day he may have waved and beckoned her over, but not today.
A man propped his bicycle against a nearby wall and walked back up the road, a roll of paper tied up with string in his hand. He disappeared around the corner of a building, heading in the direction of the town hall. Nearby a couple were saying goodbye, pulling close together as the husband looked to board a nearby boat. The man played his hand through the ringlets of her curly brown hair, as he kissed her goodbye, his other hand resting on the hem of her pleated skirt, lingering longer than was strictly appropriate.
Jack longed to pull Johanna into a similar embrace, but he didn’t know when they would get the chance to be alone. They should have been boarding a boat of their own, if only Johanna had been able to leave too. Deep brown eyes bore into his, wide with surprise, and he realised he was staring.
Jack yawned and thought about how much more tired he would be by the time all of this was done. He would sleep the sleep of the dead later. For now, he forced himself forward, one foot after the other.
A couple of his colleagues were manoeuvring a wooden barricade into place along the end of the pier. One of them, an older man, PC Frank Baker, was struggling to lift the crossbeam into the groove cut in a leg, and Jack rushed to help him. ‘Thanks,’ Frank said as they wrestled the beam into place, and he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. ‘This probably won’t help much if this lot get rowdy.’ He threw a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the growing queue. ‘But at least it will make them think twice.’
A man walked past them, carrying three overfilled rucksacks and visibly sweating in the heat. ‘There’s no way he’s getting that lot on a boat,’ Jack said, looking over at his other colleague, Sergeant Honfleur, who nodded and grumbled.
‘Glad you could join us, Godwin. You can man this barricade while we take a break.’
There was a loud crack as a wooden crate was dropped to the ground by two khaki-clad soldiers. Neither of them flinched. The navy’s boats bobbed gently in their moorings as the materiel was taken on board. That both the army and the children were being evacuated at the same time was causing havoc with the harbour, and the men in khaki moved freely past the cordons the police had set up. Jack could see some of the civilians edging closer, looking to take advantage of the lapse.
A soldier with three chevrons stitched on to his sleeve stopped, put down a crate and used the break to stretch his back. He looked over at Jack and nodded. ‘Good thing the weather is calm,’ he said, his accent not from the islands. ‘Or the trip to the mainland with this lot would be hell.’
‘That’s true, but they’ll want to hurry up. They’re getting in the way of the evacuation.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Aye, but it’s not easy mobilising an army, my friend. Especially across the sea. We’ve got a lot to get on board that there navy ship out in the bay.’
‘They must have known this was coming. You could at least leave us something.’
‘Hah, don’t assume anything. We were caught napping during the last war too. Chamberlain didn’t fancy a fight, but now ol’ Churchill’s in charge. And no can do, friend.’ He patted the crate he had been carrying. ‘Can’t leave anything behind that we may need. It’s for your own good. If the Hun do come, you’ll be best off if they think you’re completely unarmed. I know it’s not easy to hear, but that’s how it is.’
‘You’re still abandoning us.’
The other man was silent for a moment, looking out over the sea. He nodded shallowly, before speaking. ‘I can see why you would think that,’ he said. ‘Truth is, I reckon it’s a question of winning or losing the war altogether. If the Germans come here, what can we do to stop them really?’ He waved a hand around the harbour. ‘We could defend bits of the island, but with no navy support we’d soon be overrun. Me and my lads can be put to better use somewhere else.
‘And if we’re not here, at least they won’t come with force. No one will die for a few extra days’ resistance.’
Jack scowled. This man had no choice but to go off and fight somewhere else, but Jack didn’t have to like it. While there was still some hope, they could stop the Germans taking the island.
The other man’s frown broke into a smile. ‘Say what. Come with us. Young lad like you’d do well in khaki.’
Jack shook his head. What else could he say? That he hated war? He surely wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, that was an overly simplistic explanation. It wasn’t war that he hated; it was death. Jack had lost everything as a child, and he had always blamed war for it.
‘I can’t. My family … I’m needed here,’ he said. He would never forgive himself if he left his family to fend for themselves, and he knew that no matter what he said they would never leave the island. This was their home. This was his home.
‘I understand,’ the other man said, lighting a cigarette and offering the packet to Jack who refused. ‘More than you can imagine. It’s why I do what I do. Some of us don’t have families to look after. Some of us fight to protect other people’s families, those who have what we don’t.’ He took a long drag. ‘I don’t blame you for staying. I’d probably do the same if it was my home and I had anyone to stay for. I wish you luck.’ With a grunt he lifted the crate up and trudged off down the pier, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Thanks.’
A boat was pushing off from the harbour, wobbling as a soldier kicked at the mooring. When the boat moved suddenly, he almost fell but was caught by a companion. They laughed it off, but the boat was so overcrowded Jack didn’t fancy their chances of staying dry during the journey. There weren’t enough boats to take them all out to the SS Biarritz in the bay. Jack wondered if he did want to go with them after all, where would he even fit?
A few hours later, Jack watched the last of the boats leave the harbour. The Biarritz was already disappearing around the corner of the bay, the smoke from its chimneys the only blotch on the clear blue sky. There were still some fishing boats moored up in the harbour, but it was a shadow of its former self. The island felt quieter already, except for the soft sobbing coming from behind him as families went home to await their unknown future.
‘À bétaot,’ he said to no one in particular. Goodbye.
Chapter 3
26 June 1940
The windows of the house rattled to
an irregular rhythm in their frames. At first they had thought a truck from one of the farms had driven too close to the house, but the sound had continued. There would be a long moment of calm, followed by the glass shaking a few times in quick succession. Some were quieter than others, then a large bang drifted across the sea as something bigger went up.
The crockery on his tray clinked with each movement as Jack carried bowls of potato soup to his grandparents, trying not to spill any on the floor. He had expected them to look concerned when he entered their room, but they sat up against the metal headboard of their bed, quietly muttering to themselves.
‘I hear the Hun are at it again,’ his grandfather grumbled as he spotted Jack, who was too busy concentrating on the bowls to reply.
‘Thank you, dear,’ his grandmother said as he put the tray down on the only table in their room, a dark-lacquered, old wooden side table. He passed a bowl to her. She lifted the spoon and moved it towards her husband, who scoffed when he saw what she was doing. ‘I’m not an invalid,’ he said, before a cough racked his body. She smiled wearily at him, but Jack knew that she would do anything for her husband. As he would do for Johanna.
He picked up the second bowl and there was another rumble from outside. Jack flinched as it rocked in his hands.
‘Don’t worry, Jacky,’ his grandmother said, and Jack was unsure whether she was talking about the soup or the sound of warfare drifting in through the open window. ‘You’ll get used to it, just like we did in the last war.’
Jack wondered if this would be the same, that at some point the backdrop of war would become second nature to them.
‘The Hun wouldn’t dare,’ his grandfather agreed, before another coughing fit. Jack wanted to do something to help him, the man who had been like a father to him in the absence of his own father, but nothing they had done had helped. Jack longed for the grandfather who had told him stories of better times and convinced him to join the police force, knowing that he could never do anything else but try to help people, that since his father had died Jack had wanted to prevent anyone else suffering the same heartbreak. His grandfather was the man who had helped Jack feel like a local, forget that he was born in England and fit in on the island. It was funny to think that all those things had led him to become a policeman.
The German Nurse Page 3
