Page 1 of Neighbors at War

Prologue

9 MAY 1945

Helen heard another footstep on the stairs leading to the attic and covered her little boy’s mouth with her hand. She forced a smile. ‘Remember, Bobby,’ she whispered, ‘we mustn’t make a sound.’

His small hand moved hers away. ‘Because the Nasties are in the house?’

Helen nodded, her heart breaking to think that hiding in an attic from the Nazi officers who were billeted next door was part of his daily life. ‘That’s right.’

‘We’re safe in our fort though, aren’t we, Mummy?’

She raised a finger to her lips, hearing heavy soles slowly making their way to their tiny hiding place, behind the secret cupboard under the eaves.

Seeing he was about to speak, she covered his mouth again and pulled a silly face. ‘We are safe in here, but we must shush now,’ she said, hearing an unmistakable creak on the floorboards directly outside their attic room, followed by a squeak as the door opened.

Desperate to clasp Bobby tightly against her, Helen resisted, aware that to do so might alert him to the seriousness of what was happening. He looked up at her, his large blue eyes so like his father’s, and for the first time Helen saw fear.

Chapter One

June 1941

Helen heard her aunt coughing as she carried Bobby down the stairs to join her for breakfast. Anxiety gnawed in her stomach. This had been going on for weeks now, probably even months, and she wished her aunt would do as she asked and see a doctor.

‘Morning, Helen.’

Helen tried to smile but failed. She manoeuvred her six-month-old son into his highchair and handed him a toy to keep him busy while she prepared his porridge.

‘Morning, Aunt Sylvia.’

Her aunt looked up from pouring out two cups of tea. ‘You seem a little cross.’

Not wishing to be unkind, but needing to impress the urgency of her aunt’s condition on her, if that was what it would take to make her see sense, Helen tilted her head to one side. ‘I know you keep trying to reassure me about your cough, but I think we both know it’s been getting worse, Aunty. Won’t you go to see the doctor? If not for yourself, then for Bobby?’

Her aunt drew back one of the chairs for Helen to sit on. She caught a fleeting expression on her aunt’s face and tensed as it dawned on her she was about to hear bad news.

‘You have seen him, haven’t you?’ She closed her eyes, wishing she had said nothing. She wasn’t ready for this. Her aunt was the only relative she had left who cared for her and Bobby.

Sylvia placed a cup of tea in front of her before doing the same with her own, then sat down. She sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry, Helen. I should have told you before now, but I couldn’t find the words.’

Bracing herself for what was to come, Helen clasped her hands in her lap. ‘Tell me.’

Her aunt’s attention was taken by two German soldiers talking angrily outside their front door.

‘Have a look and see if you can work out what that’s about?’ her aunt said, pointing down the hallway.

Helen ran to the living room and looked outside, slinking backwards when one of the uniformed men turned to her. She wished she understood German like her close friend and neighbour, Peggy Hamel. Seeing one of the men indicate the houses opposite theirs, Helen understood what the fuss was about and returned to her aunt.

‘It seems that someone has painted a V on the front doors of two houses across the road,’ she said, unsure whether to be excited or concerned about any repercussions.

‘There’s been quite a bit of that going on around the place, I gather,’ her aunt said thoughtfully. She gave a wry grin. ‘I wish I had the courage to do something similar.’

She began coughing again and Helen winced to hear the rasping. ‘I’m glad you don’t. I—’ A loud bang on the front door made her jump. ‘I think we’re about to be asked about the vandalism across the road.’

Bobby began to cry. ‘It’s all right, poppet,’ Helen soothed, hugging him.

Another loud bang was joined by an order to open the door. Sylvia began to get up but Helen stopped her. ‘No. You stay here with Bobby. I’ll speak to them.’

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and she swallowed the nausea threatening to reach her throat as she opened the door with a shaky hand. ‘Yes?’