Page 63 of Neighbors at War

PEGGY

Babs was upstairs letting Helen know it was safe to come down for lunch. They had decided to eat early and agreed that only Bobby would have breakfast today, to help stretch their rations. Peggy went through to the living room to light a fire as a treat to cheer them up. As she entered she smiled to see the hard work her mother and sister had done the previous evening putting up Christmas decorations.

They had used the ones they had put up every year for as long as she could remember. The familiar scene cheered her slightly. The pine cones she and Babs had collected many years before when walking with their parents up at Noirmont were her favourites. Her mother had given her and Babs paints and glitter to decorate the cones There had initially been eight but only four remained today and, although most of the glitter had been rubbed off over the years, they had pride of place on the mantelpiece.

There was no real tree this year but a small handmade one standing on a side table. She walked over to it and on closer inspection saw that it used a triangular cushion that she vaguely recalled seeing amongst all the junk in the attic before they had tidied it up for Helen and Bobby. Pins were inserted into the material, holding coloured glass baubles against it. It was imaginative and pretty and made Peggy smile.

‘What do you think?’ her mother asked behind her.

Peggy turned, her arms outstretched. ‘It’s inspired, Mum. I always love seeing those.’ She pointed to the pinecones. ‘And I think we should always have this as our Christmas tree.’

The smile on Ida’s face slipped slightly. ‘I’m hoping this is the one and only year we don’t have a real tree.’

Peggy hoped for the same thing but having picked up Allied news – until private radios had been confiscated in mid-June – she doubted it. Until then the news had been grim and seemed to worsen with each passing day. It would take a miracle for the war to end in the next twelve months, but Peggy had no intention of dampening her mother’s spirits by saying so.

She spotted their tatty angel made of a ping-pong ball with a face drawn on it, strands of yellow wool for her hair and a body made of a cardboard tube covered in slightly torn crepe paper. They had used the same one for a long time, and although her father used to moan about it whenever it was brought out, none of them had the heart to throw it away. She was about to remind her mother about their father when there was a knock at the front door.

‘Who can that be?’ her mother asked clasping her hands together.

Seeing Ida’s panicked expression, Peggy rubbed her upper arm. ‘It’s fine, Mum. You stay here and I’ll go and see.’

She opened the door expecting to see one of their neighbours and instead saw the captain standing stiffly waiting to speak to her. She noticed he was holding a bottle of wine in his right hand. He looked uncomfortable but determined as he raised the bottle and held it out to her.

‘For your family.’

Why was he bothering her this way? she wondered, wishing his attention could be paid elsewhere. ‘I can’t accept this, Captain. You must know that.’

‘I do not understand.’

Not wishing to antagonise him, she changed the subject. ‘Your English has improved.’ She decided a few visits ago to try and discourage him by whatever means she could, including not conversing with him in German. If he was living in Jersey and wished to speak to her then he could speak English. It seemed that he had taken note and had been practising the language.

He smiled at her proudly. ‘I am happy you think this is so.’

How was she going to make him leave? She knew it would be good manners to invite him inside but she had already noticed someone she recognised vaguely, walking along the opposite pavement, who kept looking in her direction, no doubt wondering why there was a German officer on her doorstep talking to her and holding out a gift.

‘Who’s that you’re talking to, Peggy?’ her mother asked from the hallway.

Peggy suspected her mother knew full well who it was and was trying to get rid of him. The door opened further, and her mother came and stood next to her, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Oh, it’s you again, Captain. We heard your celebrations last night.’

His eyes turned finally from Peggy as he cleared his throat. ‘I hope we do not…’ He struggled to find the words.

‘Interrupt our sleep?’ Ida snapped. ‘You did, as a matter of fact, but I suppose it is Christmas.’

He lifted his gaze from the floor to Ida. ‘I am sorry for this, Frau Hamel. I shall report to my Kameraden. It will not happen again.’

Not happen again? Peggy gave her mother a sideways glance, staggered that her petite mother had shamed this tall, imposing officer. Unsure what to say next, she kept quiet, enjoying her mother’s control of the situation and seeing a hint of the woman she had been before she had retreated into herself, trying not to be noticed by the Germans.

‘Was there something you wanted, Captain?’ Ida asked pleasantly.

He hesitated then held out the bottle towards her. ‘I wish for you to have this. It is French wine,’ he added as if knowing that her mother might either refuse a bottle of German wine or take it and pour it down the sink.

Her mother thought for a moment then took the wine. ‘If this is by way of an apology for last night, then I shall accept it.’

Peggy held her breath. Her mother was pushing her luck now, she thought anxiously. But when she looked at the captain’s face, instead of seeming angry with her, there was a fondness in his expression that took her by surprise.

‘I wish you a good Christmas,’ he said. Then added, ‘Mrs Hamel, forgive me, but you remind me of my mother.’ Without another word, he clicked his heels together, gave them a curt nod, turned and walked down the steps, then up the steps on the other side of the metal handrail and into number 2.

Ida pulled Peggy backwards into the house and closed the front door. Neither spoke for a few seconds.