Read Daughter of Riches Online
Authors: Janet Tanner
âOh, I'm sorry â¦' Bernard broke off, unsure what to say, but he was saved by the deafening sound of an aeroplane approaching very low.
âDashed Germans! They've been backward and forward over the pier all day watching the potatoes being loaded,' Charles said. âI don't like it.'
Bernard went to the window, peering out, and saw a girl walking down the street, a tall, luscious girl with striking red hair escaping from beneath an emerald green headscarf, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Briefly he wondered who she was. And at that precise moment the world fell in.
The two explosions, one after the other, made the whole building shake and Bernard was thrown backwards across the office in a shower of glass, dust and plaster. For a moment, he was so shocked that he lay where he had fallen, unable to move or even think, then, without stopping to wonder if he was hurt, he picked himself up, rushing towards the gaping hole where the window had been.
âWait â there may be more!' Charles warned, but Bernard took no notice. He could think of nothing but the girl. She must have been in the street when the bomb fell and would certainly have been caught in the blast.
He yanked open the door and ran out. There was debris and broken glass everywhere. A few yards away, tossed against a wall like a rag doll, lay the girl. Her scarf had been torn off by the blast â it fluttered in the gutter like a railway guard's flag â and he could see that her white dress was stained with blood. He ran towards her, sick at heart, trembling with shock and the fear of what he might see when he looked into her face, but driven all the same by the need to help another human being. Then to his unutterable relief he saw her move. He reached her, went to lift her, then changed his mind, afraid of hurting her.
âAre you all right?' he said, knowing it was a stupid question yet saying it all the same.
Her eyes were open though they had a dazed look and her eyelashes fluttered as if she was trying to focus. A half-smile twisted her mouth and she stretched out a hand to him.
âNicky!' she said.
âWhy did they do it?' Lola demanded furiously. âThey are barbarians! They know the island is undefended!'
âMaybe they didn't know,' Charles said, wondering whether he should tell Lola that the girl who had been caught in the blast outside his office had been Nicky's girlfriend, Vivienne. He decided against it. What good would it do? It would only upset her more. And he had other things on his mind.
âI'm wondering if it would be a good idea to move out of St Helier,' he said, it's a prime target if they decide to drop more bombs. There's always my cousin Dorothy's cottage over at St Peter. It's been empty since they evacuated to England and I'm sure she wouldn't mind.'
âNo, I am not leaving my home,' Lola said firmly. âBut I'd like to know what the Germans think they are up to, all the same.'
âAs regards that I'm afraid we shall just have to wait and see,' Charles told her.
It was not long before they found out.
âEveryone is to fly a white flag of surrender, otherwise we shall be bombed again,' Charles told Lola.
Understandably the news made her even more furious.
âFly white flag? Never! Is humiliating!'
âI'm afraid we have no choice,' Charles said mildly. âI'm not prepared to see our home go up in smoke to save your pride. We'll hang out one of the big white tablecloths from the restaurant.'
And Lola, though sickened by the prospect, could do nothing but concur.
A few days later Vivienne regained full consciousness. She opened her eyes to see her mother sitting beside her hospital bed and immediately asked the question that had been buzzing round her fevered brain all the time she had been semi-conscious.
âIs Nicky safe?'
Loretta reached for her daughter's hand, squeezing it. Over and over again in her delirium she had called for Nicky and Loretta, who knew more than Vivienne realised, had put two and two together regarding Viv's presence in Conway Street at the time of the bombing.
âYes, he's safe,' she said softly.
To her alarm two huge tears squeezed out of the corners of Vivienne's eyes and ran down her cheeks.
âI don't believe you.'
âIt's true, darling. He was wounded and he is in hospital, that's probably why he hasn't written to you. But he is safe. That nice young man from the Tour Agency told me. He's been here quite a few times to visit you, you know.'
Viv looked puzzled. She didn't know any young man from a Tour Agency â did she? But that was not important. The only thing that mattered was that Nicky was alive.
âCould I talk to him, do you think?' she asked, forming the words with difficulty because her lips were very dry. â On the telephone?'
âThe young man from the agency?' Loretta asked, startled.
âNo ⦠no ⦠Nicky, of course. If he's in hospital they must have a telephone.'
Loretta felt sick inside. She did not want to tell Vivienne in her present condition that whilst she had been drifting in and out of consciousness the Germans had occupied Jersey. The swastika was now flying over the Town Hall â which they had made their military headquarters â and all telephone lines connecting the island with England had been cut.
âWe'll see about that when you're better, young lady,' she said, summoning all her dramatic reserves and remembering a part she had once played in repertory of a strict young nurse. âJust now it is most important for you to rest and regain your strength.'
âSo that we can go to England, you mean?' Viv murmured and again Loretta declined to tell her the truth â that Viv's injuries had prevented them from flying out of Jersey before the Germans arrived. Now there could be no question of them leaving. Like it or not they were now trapped along with the rest of the islanders for the duration of the war.
The Germans came to Jersey and suddenly nothing was the same. They were not unfriendly, if anything they seemed only too anxious to get along with the islanders, and their priorities were buying up everything they could lay hands on in the shops, swimming and sunbathing on the golden beaches and chatting up those local girls who were not above fraternising. But soon the rules and regulations they imposed and the lack of liberty was getting everyone down.
In many ways, Sophia thought, the awful tedium was worse than the stomach-churning terror she had experienced when she had first seen the hordes of German troops marching through the streets. Nothing was fun any more. The pictures showing at the cinema were all German with English sub-titles and dances and concerts had to be over in time to be home by curfew. It wasn't so bad for Catherine and Paul â Catherine still had her tap-dancing classes at the Donald Journeaux School of Dancing, and Paul and his friends seemed to have great fun seeing how many regulations they could break without getting caught (though Lola had threatened him that she would come down harder on him than any German if she found out he had been crawling under the barbed wire to get to the beach or painting V-signs on walls and pavements â it was much too dangerous to be taken so lightly).
In the long evenings the only entertainment was playing cards, ludo or table skittles, or gathering around the piano to sing whilst Sophia played all the old favourites. But even the piano was no longer the joy to her that it had once been. The occupation had put an end to her hopes of gaining a place at a college of music â cut off from the examining boards practice began to seem pointless and Sophia, angry at the injustice of it, had no heart to play at all unless she was pressed into it by Lola.
All in all war was not a lot of fun, Sophia thought. And living in an occupied country was about as miserable as you could get.
Sophia was all alone at home one afternoon in the autumn of 1941 when a German officer came knocking on the door of La Maison Blanche.
When she looked out of the window and saw him there, looking extremely tall and extremely official in his immaculate grey uniform, her heart missed a beat and she wondered if she could hide and pretend there was no one at home. But it seemed a dreadfully cowardly thing to do and besides Sophia was not at all sure that he had not seen her peeping around the curtains. If he had he might force his way in and that would be worse than ever. Nervously she went to the door and threw it open.
âYes?'
Face to face the German officer looked bigger than ever and inwardly Sophia quailed. But to her surprise he smiled at her pleasantly and clicked his heels.
âGood afternoon,
fraulein
. Is your father at home?' he asked in perfect English.
Sophia shook her head. âNo, he's out, and my mother too. They have gone to see my little sister dancing in a concert.'
âAnd you have not gone?'
âNo. I had too much homework to do.'
âAh! I hope you are one of the students who are doing well with your German lessons. Some, I understand, do not wish to learn our language. This is a great pity. If we do not speak the languages how are we ever to understand each other? However, that is not the reason I am here. I have come to tell you that I need your house to provide accommodation for some of my men.' He said it all in exactly the same tone, friendly and conversational, so that for a moment Sophia could hardly believe she had heard him correctly. She knew, of course, that the Germans had requisitioned a good many hotels and guest houses; when they had first occupied the island the Carterets had half expected La Maison Blanche to be on the list. But somehow they had escaped. Now Sophia stared at the tall handsome officer in blank horror.
âI shall have to come back when your father is in and speak with him officially but perhaps while I am here you could show me the facilities,' he said and she felt a bubble of hysteria rising. He might have been a visitor asking for a guided tour before booking a holiday!
âNo!' she said sharply. âI'd rather you waited until they are here.'
For the first time she glimpsed the hint of steel beneath the pleasant exterior. Blue eyes flashed coldly and the smile became fixed.
âIt would be most convenient if you were to show me around now,' he said authoritatively.
Sophia began to tremble again. She stood aside and he strode past her into the hall, looking around him with a critical eye. âHmm, yes, this I like, better than the big hotels, less impersonal. Now, how many rooms do you have? Show me please.'
Sophia showed him, her resentment growing.
âGood, good,' he said when they had finished their tour. âThe guest house is ideal for some of my men, and my fellow officers and I will take oyer this part â ââthe annexe” did you say it was called? It will make nice mess rooms for us.'
Quite suddenly Sophia's indignation overcame her fear.
âAnd where are we supposed to live?' she demanded.
The officer looked surprised. âOh, I am quite sure you will find somewhere. You do not, after all, need all this room for five of you. And your furniture you can leave behind. It will suit us very well.' He looked around, noticed the piano and walked over to it, lifting the lid and tinkling lightly on the keys. Sophia was outraged.
âThat's my piano!'
âReally? You are musical? That is good. My son is musical too. And one of the other officers is a good pianist. We shall enjoy your piano,
fraulein
. Now I will leave you. My compliments to your father â please to tell him I shall be moving my men in next week. Good day.' He clicked his heels again, still smiling the same pseudo-friendly smile.
When he had gone Sophia burst into tears of fright and fury and sheer helplessness.
âIt's the limit!' Lola cried when they returned from the concert and Sophia told them what had happened. âThey can't do this to us! I shall tell them I won't move from my home!'
âIt's no good taking that attitude,' Charles soothed her. â If you ask me it's a good thing you weren't here when the Jerry came or you'd be on the waiting list for prison by now. If they want the house they'll have it and that is all there is to it. We're lucky they've let us stay here this long.'
âAnd where are we supposed to go?' Lola demanded.
âThere's always my cousin's cottage over at St Peter. We'll go there. It's small, but we can manage. We shall have to.'
âAnd what about our valuables and the bottles that we buried in the garden? And all the vegetables you've worked so hard to bring on?'
âWe'll dig them up when it gets dark â Paul can help me. The potatoes are already harvested and we'll pull the carrots and parsnips. There isn't much we can do about the cabbages â we'll take a week's supply and leave the rest, though I must say I begrudge leaving the Germans so much as a single Brussels sprout!'
Paul and Sophia looked at one another. They had both had the same idea. It was surprising how often they thought like twins.
âShall we?' Paul asked with a mischievous twinkle.
âYes,' Sophia nodded.
That night after the vegetables had been harvested they crept out, found Charles's watering can in the outhouse and filled it with a bottle of the disinfectant that was used to keep the drains of the guest house sweet. With just the smallest amount of water to make it go further they sprayed all the remaining cabbages and Brussels sprouts.
âI wouldn't like to be a German with them served up for my dinner,' Paul said, chuckling, and Sophia agreed. She very much hoped that the biggest helping would be on the plate of the one who interfered with her piano!
From the moment they moved out to the cottage everything seemed to get a great deal less pleasant.
It wasn't so much that the cottage was too small for them, though it was certainly cramped â âNo room to swing a cat!' as Lola put it â with only two bedrooms and a small loft under the eaves that Paul had for his room when he had made a rope ladder to reach it. It wasn't even that it was so far out of the way at St Peter after being used to living in St Helier. It was simply that the war had been going on longer and the occupation was biting.