Daughter of Riches (32 page)

‘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.

Dieter shook his head slowly, looking at her. ‘Oh Sophia, it is so good to see you again, even under such circumstances. You don't know.'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘I do.' She let go of the cup, laying her hand, palm uppermost, on the scrubbed wood table top, and he covered it with his own. She looked down at his wrist etched with tiny fair hairs and felt the love welling up in her as if time had slipped backwards, she was fourteen years old again and the intervening years had never been.

The sound of the door opening broke the spell and they jumped apart like guilty children. It was Catherine; the expression on her face told them that they had not moved fast enough – she had seen them.

‘Sophia! How could you?' she flared.

Dieter leaped to his feet, clicking his heels. ‘Don't be offended,
fraulein
, please!'

‘He's a German!' she rushed on, ignoring him. ‘They took our parents, Sophia! They turned us out of our home! I hate them – and so should you. You can't sit there with him drinking tea and holding hands. It's disgusting!'

‘Catherine! It's Dieter you are talking about!'

‘Yes, I know. Dieter. The German. The Nazi pig. Look at him, Sophia – look!'

‘Don't be so rude, Catherine!' Sophia remonstrated, horrified at her sister's outburst.

‘Why not? I feel like being rude. In fact I feel like being a good deal worse than that. I feel like killing him!'

‘I am sorry if I have upset you, Catherine,' Dieter said quietly. ‘This I never meant to do. And Sophia, if I have put you in a bad position then I am sorry for that also. I will go now.' He crossed to the door, nodded gravely to them and went out.

Sophia glared at Catherine and ran out after him. Dusk had fallen swiftly as it does in September and the soft air was filled with the scents of the garden, a sweet hangover from the warmth of the day. Clouds of midges moved under the trees, sign of another fine day to come tomorrow, and somewhere out in the countryside the first owl hooted mournfully.

‘Don't go, Dieter, please!' she called.

He stopped, looking back at her. ‘I think it is best. You don't want me here. I should not have come.'

‘Catherine shouldn't have said the things she did. I'm sorry …'

‘No, no, I understand. Truly. And Catherine, she would not be the only one to condemn if I were to visit you again. I am German, as she said, and Germans are hated here, perhaps with good reason.'

‘Dieter … please!' Sophia, proud, strong Sophia, who never begged and never let anyone see her cry, suddenly found she was doing both. Her eyes were misty with tears, the words sprang from her lips before she could stop them. ‘I don't care what anyone says or thinks. I really don't. Only please, please don't go away again!'

There was a tiny silence. Across the valley the owl hooted again, a low and haunting moan lingering in the sweet air. It sounded to Sophia like an echo of her own heartfelt plea.

Dieter touched her hand again, his fingers clasping hers briefly, and he pulled her towards him, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

‘I do have to go now,
liebchen
. But I will come back tomorrow – if you are sure …'

Her heart rose and soared. ‘Oh yes, I'm sure!'

‘Very well.' His fingers squeezed hers briefly again and then he was gone, a grey shadow disappearing into the falling darkness.

Gently Sophia touched the spot on her forehead where his lips had been then she went back into the house. For the first time in years she felt truly happy.

Catherine made sure she was out the following night when Dieter came. She was furious, unable to understand in the smallest degree how her sister could fraternise with a German and determined not to be a part of it.

‘Wallace has some gramophone records he wants me to hear. I shall be at his house all the evening.'

‘You'll have to come home before curfew.'

‘Only if
he
won't be here any more. If he is going to be I'll ask if I can stay the night at Sylvie's. Her mother won't mind.'

‘And I suppose you'll tell them all the reason why you don't want to come home just like you told them about our wireless,' Sophia snapped, stung.

‘I didn't! You know I only told Sylvie!'

‘So you say. But if that is the case then it must have been Sylvie who informed on us.'

‘She wouldn't do that.'

‘You heard what Dieter said. Somebody did.'

‘Perhaps it was Bernard. He knew about it.'

‘Oh, don't be so ridiculous! Bernard would never …'

‘What,' Catherine asked, ‘is Bernard going to say when he finds out you're seeing a German? He has been so good to us and he is going to be so hurt.'

‘Oh stop it, stop it!' Sophia cried, pressing her hands to her ears. ‘Doesn't what I want matter at all? This isn't someone I've just met. I've been in love with him since I was younger than you. I
have
to see him, don't you see?'

‘No. I don't,' Catherine said flatly. ‘And neither will anyone else.'

‘Don't tell them, please …'

‘Why should you worry if you're not ashamed of what you're doing?'

‘Because this is very special to me and I don't want it all spoiled.'

‘Well you need not worry,' Catherine said haughtily. ‘
I
shan't tell anyone because
I
certainly am ashamed.'

Sophia was a little shaken. She had been sure Catherine would come around to understanding her point of view and her stubborn disapproval was upsetting, especially since she was effectively all the family Sophia had now. But there was something in what she had said, Sophia had to admit. People would certainly blame her if they knew she was seeing a German, and Bernard would be dreadfully upset. Sophia thought that if she was discreet she might be able to keep her secret from the world at large – the cottage was fairly isolated and the nights were now drawing in so that it was dark soon after they had finished tea – but she would find it very difficult to keep it from Bernard. Though she saw him only once or twice a week he sometimes called at the cottage unannounced so there was always the possibility he might come when Dieter was there.

He would have to be told, Sophia decided – all other considerations aside she hated the thought of deceiving him – though exactly what she would tell him she was not sure. And in any case as yet there was nothing to tell. Dieter was coming back to see her tonight. That might be the end of it.

A nerve jumped in Sophia's throat. It might be the end. Perhaps that would be best all round. But Sophia knew that in spite of everything she desperately wanted it to be the beginning.

They were magic days, stolen out of time. Around them conditions deteriorated as food supplies, already severely depleted, threatened to run out altogether, and the war entered its last bloody phase with the certainty of defeat giving a bitter edge to recriminations by the occupying forces. But Sophia and Dieter scarcely noticed any more. They were too engrossed in one another, too busy recapturing some of the enchantment of their lost youth.

Their meetings were brief and discreet. Sometimes Dieter could not get away and Sophia would wait at the window in vain. When they were together there was never enough time for all they wanted to say to one another and certainly never enough time for love. But at least there was privacy in those snatched hours for Catherine was still firm in her determination to avoid any contact with Dieter. When she could she went out, when she could not she shut herself upstairs in her bedroom and stayed there until he had gone.

They became lovers almost at once and it was the most natural thing in the world. It had been the first kiss that was awkward, with Dieter not yet certain of this new, adult Sophia, and she suddenly painfully aware of the German uniform. After that everything fell into place with an ease and speed that might have appeared unseemly if it had not been so totally inevitable and right. Sophia, who, if she had stopped to think about it, might have felt that her brazen behaviour was something to be ashamed of, simply gloried in every touch, every special sensual moment. There was so much time to be made up – and so little present or future to do it in!

But it was not all love making. Sometimes they talked, sitting holding hands and leaning towards one another as they explored each other's minds and beliefs, dissected the past and tried to find some hope for the future. But the subject of Nazism was left firmly alone. It was the one area where they knew they would not agree, for though he hated things that had been done in its name, Dieter still clung to the basic tenets that had first stirred him when he had been a member of the Hitler Youth Movement. It was too much, Sophia realised, to expect him to abandon them completely when his whole existence and the very, lives of so many of his friends had been sacrificed at their altar. Later, perhaps, when it was all over he would allow himself to begin to believe that he – and they – had been wrong. But for now the time she and Dieter had together was too precious to be spoiled by arguments or the exposure of fundamental differences of opinion.

Sometimes they talked of the sheer chance that had brought them together again – and of the incredible stroke of good luck that had decreed it had been Dieter who had found the cat's whisker under the floorboards.

‘Didn't you know how dangerous it was to have a wireless?' he asked her sternly.

‘Don't lecture me, Dieter. I haven't got it now.'

‘I should hope not! Don't you know that if it had been anyone but me who found it you would be in gaol by now – or on the way to Germany even, perhaps?'

‘Yes. I know. But it should have been safe enough. It would have been safe enough if someone hadn't informed on us. Who was it? I'd still like to know.'

‘What good would that do?'

‘It would be nice to know who your enemies are. No, it's all right, Dieter, I'm not hiding anything now, honestly, but I would just like to know.'

‘Very well. The people who informed on you were named Pinel.'

‘
Pinel?
I don't know anyone of that name … no, wait a minute, Pinel! There is a girl at Catherine's school named Jeanne Pinel. She and Catherine had a fight over a boy. You don't think she …'

‘I don't know,' Dieter said, pulling her into his arms. ‘Let it go,
liebchen
, just let it go. It's all over now and you don't want to make more trouble.'

His fingers were in her hair, his mouth at her throat, and Sophia ‘let it go' as he asked. But when Dieter had gone and Catherine made her appearance again, sulky and resentful, Sophia told her what Dieter had said.

‘You see how dangerous it is to talk about things?' she finished. ‘You said you hadn't told anyone but Sylvie but somehow it got passed from mouth to mouth and Jeanne Pinel was able to use what she knew to get her own back on you, Catherine. So let that be a lesson to you!'