Page 3 of Neighbors at War

Helen had been working there for a few months now, thanks to her aunt knowing the housekeeper, Mrs Edwards, and arranging for her to have an interview. She didn’t mind her job assisting Mrs Jeune, the cook, even though it meant waiting on German soldiers in the dining room. And she was grateful that her aunt loved looking after Bobby.

‘You’re right. I should be going. I’ll just give him this last mouthful then I’ll tidy up first.’

Her aunt waited patiently for her to finish feeding him, then took the empty bowl and spoon from Helen’s hands. ‘Off you go.’

Helen watched enviously as her aunt picked up a cloth and wiped Bobby’s cherubic face. She wished she could be the one to stay with him.

‘Go on, then. This little one will be fine with me.’

‘I know he will,’ Helen said, standing and kissing her aunt briefly on the top of her head. She felt a familiar tightening in her throat, thinking of her aunt’s unconditional love, which had given Helen back the confidence she had lost. Aunt Sylvia had only suggested once, just before the occupation, that Helen contact her parents to see if they would welcome her home again. Helen had refused, mortified to have fallen pregnant without having a wedding ring on her finger. She thought of Richard, the man who had crushed her dreams as well as her heart when she’d discovered that he already had a fiancée, and wondered what he would think of their bonny six-month-old son.

‘Helen, I can see you’re thinking about what happened again.’ Her aunt gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘You must think ahead, dear. There’s no point in longing for the past. I know, I’ve done it for years since losing my darling Malcolm.’

Helen opened her mouth to deny what she was doing but was silenced by her aunt’s knowing look.

‘It won’t do you or this little one any good to ponder on what might have been,’ Sylvia added. ‘And as far as being good to you both, I only did what any other relative of yours might have done.’

They both knew that wasn’t true. Most families would have done the opposite and turned Helen away in disgrace.

Sylvia waved her out of the room. ‘Now, get a move on or you’ll be looking for another job.’ She spilled some of Bobby’s food from the spoon and tutted to herself as she went to fetch a damp cloth to clear it up.

Helen watched Sylvia walk through to the scullery and then kissed Bobby’s forehead. ‘You be a good boy for your great-aunt Sylvia while Mummy is away.’

Hearing footsteps, she straightened up.

‘Are you still here?’ Sylvia came back in with a scowl before shooing her away. ‘Go. Now.’

Helen set off on her half-hour walk to work contemplating how much she loved living on this beautiful island, where she, her parents and her older brother had come to stay with their aunt every summer holiday when she was younger. The island was different now, with German road signs, Occupation Reichsmarks as the currency and the hated grey-green German uniforms on every street. She loathed the red-and-black banners hanging from buildings. Even their clocks had been put forward one hour to coincide with the Continent.

‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling at Ida Hamel next door, who was coming out of her house. Helen liked their neighbour. There was something sad about her – probably, Helen thought, because she had been widowed only eighteen months before – but she didn’t seem to judge Helen in any way, nor did her daughters Peggy and Babs, and for that Helen was grateful.

Helen went to cross the road, stopping when a black car with familiar insignia flying from the aerial blasted its horn. She was shocked that she had nearly been run over. Although she mostly remembered to look left instead of right before crossing the street, she knew that sometimes she still automatically looked right first.

She quickened her pace along the pavement, cheered at the thought of Bobby, who had recently begun crawling, causing her and Aunt Sylvia to move all the ornaments in the living room up on shelves out of his reach.

Something caught Helen’s eye, and she hesitated in front of a shopfront, where a placard was affixed, stating, ‘Jewish Undertaking’. She stared at the sign, her good mood vanishing, and clenched her fists, enraged to think people were being put into categories. Hearing heavy footsteps, she noticed a uniformed soldier walking in her direction and immediately moved on.

How must the shop’s proprietor feel about that sign? What was the world coming to when this sort of thing became a way of life?

Several minutes later Helen passed another shop but this time the placard read, ‘Under an Aryan administrator’. Helen fought the urge to turn around and run back to her aunt’s home, wanting to blot out what she had seen. Poor Bobby – what had she done, bringing him into a world this cruel?

She decided there was little she could do but make the best of things. She was here now, and so was Bobby. She just needed to put one foot in front of the other and make the best of what was coming to her. She forced a smile and kept walking.

Chapter Two

PEGGY

Peggy finished typing the last of the transcripts she had been working on that morning, checked the document for errors and took the paper from her typewriter. She read through what she had done and couldn’t help thinking that although her work for the government was vital, as far as she was concerned coming into contact with the Nazi officers at work tainted her somehow. If it hadn’t been for her boss, Advocate Clarry Le Gresley, a well-respected local lawyer, persuading her that she could help the islanders by translating orders received by the Superior Council from the German authorities, she would have had as little to do with them as possible.

It was strange to think she had been doing this work for almost a year now but it still unnerved her to be in the same room as one of them. If it wasn’t for this part-time role that she fitted in with her secretarial work for the Advocate, she would love working at the legal firm much more.

Peggy set the translation on top of the mounting pile on her desk. Her boss was a kind man who had taken her on soon after she returned to Jersey having spent twelve months studying in Hamburg. She recalled how he had finally persuaded her to take on the role. ‘Even if we only have a couple of days’ notice about new regulations before they’re announced to the islanders it still gives us time to warn those who will be affected,’ he had explained.

The worst thing for Peggy was that she had sworn not to discuss her work with anyone. But she reasoned that although this might be a small act of resistance on her part, if it saved someone then she was willing to do it.

She mostly succeeded in dismissing her concerns about possible repercussions should she be caught, but occasionally her worries got the better of her. ‘It would break my mother’s heart if I was to go to prison,’ she’d told the Advocate. ‘Or, worse, be sent away to one of the camps.’

The Advocate had assured her he would never let that happen, as had his son Tony, junior lawyer and Peggy’s boyfriend. Peggy doubted either of them had any power to protect her, but eventually reasoned that as her boss was one of the most highly regarded lawyers on the island, having him looking out for her could only be a good thing.