Page 2 of Neighbors at War

A sharp-featured officer of about thirty-five glared down at her. ‘You are the inhabitant of this house?’

‘Yes. I live here with my aunt and son.’ She tried not to look at the deep scar running from one side of his mouth almost to his ear and wondered what might have caused it.

‘We will speak to them.’ Without waiting for Helen to say anything, he stepped into the hallway, forcing her to move backwards out of his way. ‘They are where?’

Speaking loudly to warn her aunt, Helen indicated the kitchen. ‘We’re through here. If you’ll follow me.’

She heard the front door being closed and the heavy jackboots as the two uniformed men followed her through the house. Helen widened her eyes at her aunt, who seemed far calmer than she was at that moment. Bobby stared up at the men, seeming too astonished at them to cry.

‘What is your reason for forcing your way into my home?’ Sylvia snapped.

Helen went to stand next to her aunt, shocked by her attitude to the soldiers.

‘I am Hauptmann Wilhelm Schneider and this is Leutnant Klaus Müller. We wish you to tell us if you saw the traitor who painted the Vs on the doors opposite your house.’

Helen didn’t dare look at her aunt, but immediately insisted she had seen nothing.

‘I didn’t notice it last evening,’ Sylvia said, only a slight quaver in her voice. ‘I therefore presume it must have been done under cover of darkness.’

‘And we were in bed by ten o’clock last night,’ Helen added. ‘I only noticed it this morning when I heard you both outside and went to see what the fuss was about.’

‘Fuss?’ The taller of the two officers glared at her, causing Helen to shiver. ‘The person will be caught.’ His certainty made her fear for whoever had done it. ‘And they will be treated accordingly.’

Seemingly satisfied with their enquiry, they turned on their heels and left the house.

Helen ran after them, closed the front door and locked it. She went back to the kitchen and sat heavily, breathless from shock at having the hated officers in her home.

‘Well, that was rather frightening,’ Sylvia said in a playful voice as she smiled at Bobby. ‘Wasn’t it, poppet?’

Helen watched the concern fade from her little boy’s face and was grateful to her aunt for her reaction. She drank a mouthful of her cooling tea and recalled what they were talking about before they had been interrupted by the Wehrmacht. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our earlier conversation.’

Her aunt smiled. ‘I had hoped you might have done.’ She sighed. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I have been to the doctor. A few times in fact.’ She picked up her cup, blew on the tea, then, changing her mind, lowered it again. Raised voices filtered into the room from outside before they heard banging on the Hamels’ door at number 3. Sylvia scowled.

‘What did the doctor say, Aunty?’

‘He’s done tests and it’s not TB, thankfully, but he prescribed some medicine and said I need to take things a little easier.’

Helen wanted to believe what she was being told but she was aware her aunt played things down and doubted she was hearing the full story. ‘Is that it, or is there more?’ She took another sip of tea. Her voice wavered. ‘I want to be able to support you but I can only do that if I know exactly what’s wrong.’

Her aunt stared at her for a moment. ‘I suppose you should know,’ she admitted. ‘He did say that the virus has weakened my heart and that although I seem fine now, I do need to be careful and that it will get worse over time.’

Did that mean her aunt was going to die? Helen tried not to show her panic. ‘How much time?’

‘He couldn’t say. He did say I need to be careful not to catch any winter colds, if possible. Eat as well as I can. Rest. That sort of thing.’

Helen listened intently, trying to work out how she could help. ‘We’ll just have to ensure you take things easier, then, won’t we?’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘You’ve been so good taking Bobby and me in without any questions or⁠—’

‘Enough of that.’ Her aunt smiled. ‘I’m fine. There’s no need to concern yourself about me. And having the pair of you here has been a joy. It’s given me a new lease of life, despite everything going on around us.’ She held out her hands and looked around the room. If you hadn’t arrived on my doorstep last year, I would have had to face all this nastiness on my own now, wouldn’t I?’

Helen supposed she was right, but that didn’t stop her feeling grateful that her aunt had simply opened the door and welcomed her inside her home when she had arrived that June morning straight from the ferry, pregnant, heartbroken and terrified about what she should do next.

‘Maybe you’ll be able to rest this afternoon?’ she suggested as a German shouted at someone outside.

Helen wondered if it might be easier living further away from town but pushed the thought aside, aware that her aunt had lived at 2 Tynemouth Terrace on St Aubin’s Road since moving to Jersey with her husband in the twenties. She knew Aunt Sylvia would rather lose sleep than let Nazis force her from her home.

‘Not much chance of that,’ Sylvia replied, resting a hand on Helen’s shoulder. She nodded in Bobby’s direction. ‘You don’t want to be late for work at the villa now, do you?’

‘The villa’ was Villa Millbrook, a beautiful Arts and Crafts style house owned by Lady Trent, the woman behind the Boots empire. As far as Helen was aware, the elderly lady had been persuaded by concerned relatives to spend the war at a family home in Scotland. Helen was glad she wasn’t there to see her beloved home being lived in by Nazi officers since it had been requisitioned at the beginning of the Occupation.