Opposite Sides

CHAPTER 14

  Prelude to War

  London again. It had been too many years since he had been there and he discovered that he had missed the city with its familiar buildings and busy port. Leutnant Resmel began work in a small office in number 9, Carlton House Terrace which was used as the German Embassy. It was his job to sort through foreign government and public papers that came into the office. He was also sent out into the busy London streets to gather information from careless gossip and conversations which he overheard, together with listening to wireless broadcasts. His weekly reports in which he tried to express the mood and thoughts of the British people were regularly sent through to Pfinger in Berlin. The new ambassador, von Ribbentrop, had made it clear that these reports were vital for the Fatherland to know the mood of the English people so that the Führer-led government knew how best to organise their foreign policy.

  While working in the embassy, Hans was expected to be in uniform but as soon as he was able, he put on a suit and caught the train from London to stay the weekend at Anne’s place. It was important for him to be with Andrea for a few days and, at the same time, try to sort out the child’s welfare before the authorities decided to remove her. Any intention on his part to take her out of the country would turn him into a criminal and that would only make things worse for him as well as for Andrea. The thoughts tore at him and made him nervous, especially when he received a letter from Anne to say she was expecting again. Hans had a feeling deep down in his gut that the situation was about to change and for the worse.

  Anne and Gerald had been living on the Sutherland estate since their marriage. Anne had been happy with this arrangement as it allowed her to be close to her mother as they could see each other on a regular basis. Now the family was set to move away from the cottage which had been their home for several years. Anne wrote to Hans and asked if he could make the trip south and stay with them a weekend or two before they moved.

  Hans was impressed by the picturesque neatness of the small garden surrounding the cottage and thought the cottage with its trellis of wild roses around the entranceway was like something out of a picture book, even though their flowering period was well finished.

  The morning was cool and the air smelt sweet and fresh. It was as if the whole world was catching its breath, poised in a silence that hangs in expectation. A wisp of lazy smoke told him that the family was home. No wind. He noticed the smoke curled upwards in a tight spiral just above the roof thatch before it evaporated into the still air.

  He unlatched the gate and let it swing closed behind him. The door-knocker was in the shape of a fox. He lifted it and banged it several times on to its metal base. It would be good to see Anne again for he had missed the closeness of their friendship. Writing letters was not quite the same as meeting face to face and after the greetings and a quick catch-up of all the local small town news he had missed, the conversation focused on Anne’s last letter.

  “You have something to tell me,” Hans began. “And I have an idea it concerns Andrea. Am I correct in this?”

  Anne looked out of the window for a while. It was an awkward moment for her and Hans could feel the emotion but he remained silent until Anne was ready to speak.

  “As you know, Hans, Nanny Goodman has been looking after both Andrea and our little Andrew.” Anne audibly swallowed and Hans knew she was upset. He found it most unusual for Anne who always had managed to control her emotions and who always had managed to come up with a solution which suited everyone.

  She should be in the embassy, Hans thought. Not the man who had recently been appointed. Too close to the Party, like Renard.

  He thought Anne looked paler than last time. Something was worrying her and he could sense that she wanted to talk.

  “It is Nanny,” she said. “Poor Nanny’s had a stroke. Doctor Tilly told us that she’s no longer capable of looking after the children any more.” Anne was distracted by Andrew who until now had been playing with his bricks and toys on the bay window seat. “Come here, Andrew. There.” She gently removed his fingers from his mouth and wiped them with a hand towel. “Off you go. See how high you can build the tower.” She straightened and took a deep breath. “We have had to let Nanny go and she is now living with a sister somewhere in Kent. Besides, Gerald’s got a position with a commercial aeroplane company so we would have had to let Nanny go in any case.That’s why we have to move.”

  “That is good news, Anne. Not about Nanny but about Gerald. He must be pleased.”

  “Oh, he is. Over the moon but . . .”

  “But what?”

  Anne brushed her hands across her hair and tucked it behind her ears. Her tiny earrings swayed back and forth at having been so rudely disturbed.

  “Gerald’s new position is well north of here and we cannot take Andrea with us. The authorities have looked on us as foster parents but now that conditions are about to change, we have to find another way. She has just started school and it would be good for her stay around here.”

  “How long have we got before you go?” he asked. He twisted his little finger as he tried to think of a way out of the problem. If the welfare took Andrea away, he may never see or hear of her again.

  “Several weeks,” Anne answered. “We have not told Andrea yet. I am so sorry, Hans.”

  “Don’t be, Anne. You and Gerald have been wonderful and I thank you for everything you have done. I am pleased for Gerald. A pilot at last. It’s what he’s always wanted.” Hans smiled but it was not the happy, warm smile he was used to sharing with these two wonderful friends.

  “Yes, he may get to fly you over the Channel, yet, if . . .” Anne laughed a little but it was not the light, infectious laugh that Anne was known for. There was something else that was bothering her. Hans could tell that by the way she had drawn back away from him.

  “If what, Anne?”

  “If the international situation does not get worse.”

  “Why should it? The Olympics are coming soon and that should show how well we are all getting along with each other.”

  “Maybe.” She did not sound convincing. “I hope it doesn’t mean another war.” She shook her head as if shaking out the thoughts. “Well, before that, we have to think about Andrea and what we can do.”

  Hans bit his lip and tasted blood. He dabbed the cut with the corner of his handkerchief and checked the situation. There was only a tiny red dot there so nothing to worry about.

  “Arrangements will have to be made,” he said. “I definitely don’t want her going into an institution. I can’t have her with me in London and I have no authority to take her out of England. The authorities would be down on me like a ton a of bricks. Even though she’s my child, she isn’t mine, if you see what I mean.”

  The phone bell rang. Anne walked over and took the earpiece off the hook. Hans took the time to look around the room. It was quite dark inside even though there were two lights switched on. The English cottages had such tiny, tiny windows, only large enough to see a tiny part of the garden outside or let just one hour’s sunshine creep in between the panes. Nice, though and very homely.

  Anne put the earpiece back and walked back over to Hans. Hans looked serious, and after a while, spoke out in frustration,

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do about it!” And Anne looked at him this time in such a strange way, that he knew she was keeping something else from him. It could only have been as a result of the phone call and he was eager to know what it was. “Well, Anne? What are you not telling me?”

  “Wait a minute!” She held her palm up facing him. “Don’t be so impatient, Hans.”

  “Out with it!”

  Anne laughed, this time the real laugh that he remembered from their school days.

  “You’re not going to believe it, but honestly, it’s true.”

  “Anne!” His voice rose several tones higher.

  “Oh, all right. I was supposed to wait until Gerald’s back. No. I’ll only say that Miss Turner wi
shes to speak with you about the matter. She’s retired now and lives in town.”

  “Yes, I know. I was told.”

  “That was her on the telephone. She’s come up with an idea. I have written down her new address.” Anne handed over a small card. “Don’t worry about trying to find it, I’ll drive you over this afternoon. I have to go that way, anyway. Got to pick something up for Gerald. Spot of business to do in town. Mummy will look after Andrew until I get back. And do not worry about Andrea. She won’t be home until almost four.”

  As the afternoon drew closer, Hans got to thinking how strange it would be visiting the Matron again and even stranger this time not going up to the big school house and being welcomed by one of Miss Turner’s maids. Anne had explained to him earlier in the day that since Miss Turner’s retirement, she had taken possession of a of a small house on the other side of town so that she could be nearer the shops. She also told him that although technically Jan was still living with her aunt, she did not stay there every day but spent at least half the week away. Hans did not bother to ask why.

  He got Anne to drop him off where Miss Turner’s road joined the main road and walked up Rosamand Avenue until he came to the gate of number 238.

  He felt a wave of apprehension wash through his body and he stood, hand on the top of the gate but daring himself to lift the latch. Memories of his first day at the school overwhelmed his mind. This time the gravel pathway which curved to the front door passed across a small pebble garden, ending at the small porch which was just sufficient to encase the front door with its narrow letter slit.

  The house, a two-storey, grey-shingled roof which rose steeply up to a chunky ridge and several orange garden pot black sooted chimneys, wore an exterior of chipped grey, black and white flint walls. Dark red-brown brickwork framed each small window with their black wrought-iron window catches. He could not see inside as the small square pane bent the light away so that each window was dark and secure. Hans noticed a plant pot to the right of the front door sporting a splurge of draped colour and nestling close was a cheeky gnome with a green waistcoat and bright red pointed hat.

  How unlike the large house in the school ground, he thought. He wondered how he would be received this time; would the elderly lady receive him with the same coolness she had done in the past?

  He reached up, rang the large brass bell and waited. He could hear someone coming down the hall. He thought he could hear three footfalls. As the steps got nearer, he realised one made a similar sound to the crutches Jan had once had to use. He heard the fumbling I of fingers as someone unlocked the front door.

  “Resmel!” exclaimed the voice he thought knew so well. Only this time it was different; friendlier and far less commanding. “Nice of you to come. It’s been some time. Do come in.”

  He noticed she used a stick when walking. She led him into a small room, unfamiliar yet familiar: the room had a Miss Turner feel to it, quiet and retiring. He recognised several small pieces of furniture from the large house and then he noticed the dreaded picture was on the wall. Only this time, he said nothing and pretended it wasn’t there.

  She invited him to sit. He sat on one of the newer soft upholstered armchairs which had been placed conveniently beside the fireplace. He blurted out that Anne had told him she wished to speak with him.

  “. . . concerning Andrea,” he finished.

  It had been some time since he last saw her. She had grown old. Her hair was quite silver white around her face and as she sat down, he noticed how stiff her hips and knees had become. She leaned her shoulders back against the lace cloth which had been placed over the top part of her chair but kept her back straight so that she looked at him through the bottom of her glasses. Hans expected the small lace cloth to slide down the chair back but it didn’t. It remained fixed in perfection, exactly the same distance from the back rest corners as the day it was put there. Hans waited patiently as Miss Turner leaned her walking stick against the padded armrest of her chair.

  “Yes, Andrea. Our little Andrea,” she said, repeating the child’s name with satisfaction. “I do think your treatment of the child has a lot to be desired. Fancy going off and leaving her, especially as everyone tried so hard to persuade the authorities to let you rear her. Still, I expect you had your reasons.” She paused and drew in a breath. He could hear the air whistling down into her lungs as her chest rose and fell in slow rhythm. “Maybe, you had no other choice. Poor little child, losing her mother like that. And her grandfather not wanting to have anything to do with her. He has never forgiven Caroline and never speaks of her but such behaviour is hurtful to the children who have been born into this situation. They are the innocent ones yet they are made to suffer and Andrea is still a Grace by birth, you know.” Hans nodded in agreement but made no effort to comment. Miss Turner went a little paler than normal, even under the layers of powder she used these days to try and conceal some of her facial blemishes. Hans thought her face had the appearance of being more like tissue paper than skin but behind those spectacles, her eyes still bore into him with the dignity of authority. She looked him straight in the eye and most earnestly at that. “Have you come to make one last effort to get custody of the child? Is that why you’ve come back to England?”

  She held herself stiff and upright as she waited for him to reply. It took a while as he had to gather his thoughts together for he had to be careful with what he said. Besides, the situation with Andrea had not changed.

  “I still don’t have any authority to take her. Nothing was signed. As far as the authorities are concerned, she’s an orphan. It was only because of Anne that Andrea was kept out of an institution. I may be her father but I have no more rights than if I were someone from another planet.”

  A look of shock and disbelief crossed Miss Turner’s face. Hans knew at this instance that the woman had no knowledge of their discretion. The Grace family had kept Caroline’s involvement with him firmly closeted away.

  “I was under the impression that you and Caroline had married.” Miss Turner’s voice almost rose to a shrill squeak. Her breasts rose and fell in several great heavings and she placed her trembling hand between them as she tried to calm herself. The realisation had come as a shock and Hans could see that most clearly. “Now, I know you weren’t,” she continued as the pitch of her voice drifted up and down. “Oh, dear! What a problem. What a problem! It is worse than I feared. And, that poor child!” She wrung her hands as if by doing so, she could squash the problem away. Hans sat in silence as slowly the elderly woman began to regain her composure. “So, what brings you here?” she asked. Her voice was still a little squeaky and somewhat shaky. “I had been told you were living in Germany.”

  “I was. I’m here on business.”

  “Business? For your uncle?” Her eyes narrowed and her head shook slightly as she sought an answer.

  “No, government business.” The answer was flat and without a hint of emotion.

  He could see she was weighing up whether to press him further for information. He leaned forward and looked her full in the face. It was an uncomfortable minute and Hans was relieved when Miss Turner made the decision to move on with her own agenda.

  “Oh dear. Well, it is obvious you cannot have the child with you. It is also obvious that someone must be prepared to take the responsibility for her or she will most definitely be put in an orphanage.” She adjusted her spectacles and lifted her head which signified a decision had been reached. How many times had he seen that look before? He had lost count but it was the same defiant look that she gave just before an announcement was made during one of the school assemblies. “I think she should come and stay with me,” she said resolutely. “Yes. I have all the time in the world and this house could do with some life in it.”

  Hans was stunned. Why should she take such an interest in his child? Why the willingness to help him when he had said such dreadful things to her in the past? What did Miss Turner really think of him? What was the conne
ction between this middle-aged, spinster and his little daughter?

  “Why, Miss Turner?” he finally managed to ask.

  “Why not?” was her immediate response.

  “Andrea is still a young child. Wouldn’t you find that a burden for you? Then, there’s her schooling and . . . Sending money from Germany is becoming more difficult every day.”

  “I am aware of all that. If you cannot send money, you cannot. And that is an end to it. I am not without means. Besides, as for looking after the child, Janine still stays here for some days in the week and she comes home most weekends.” Hans thought the answer came out so quickly as if it had been a rehearsed line. “You see, I will not have to deal with the child by myself every day. Anyway, what other option is there if she is not to become a ward of the state?”

  Hans thought about it a while. He could see no other way around the problem yet Miss Turner was getting on in years and he was not sure it would be in Andrea’s best interest to be brought up by an elderly spinster. He thought of Jan. And still he could not fathom out why Miss Turner had made such a generous offer.

  “Jan isn’t married, then?” he asked remembering what Miss turner had said before.

  “No. She has not found anyone she is interested in. I do not think she is the marrying type.” Miss Turner smoothed down her dress, running her hands down over her knees and as far down her legs as she could manage. “Janine has thrown all her energies into nursing. But that is of little consequence. Jan likes Andrea. Anne used to bring the children over to see us. Little Andrew and Andrea. Sometimes Andrea would stay with us.” She noticed the look of surprise that came over Hans’ face. “You didn’t realise? Oh well, never mind. As you know, Janine has always been a bit of a loner and so having little Andrea around has given her a new outlook on life. The child has given a great deal of pleasure. For both of us.”

  Hans remembered Anne had told him about Jan doing nursing training but as she had not elaborated, the news had not made much of an impression on him.

  “Jan likes her job?”

  “Yes. Very much. Now that she has finished her training, she is working in a large hospital ten miles away. That is not so far, these days. Now young man, back to Andrea. Do you think that what I have suggested is a good idea?”

  “For the moment, yes. My grandmother would have been pleased to know she had a little English great-grandaughter. My grandmother was English. Did you know that? She was a Crawford."

  “I know.” There was not a hint of surprise in Miss Turner’s voice. “The Crawford’s were known to my family long before Julia married.” Her eyes clouded over and Hans noted the way she pushed her glasses back up her nose; just like Jan. “None of you knew of my connection. Julia’s youngest brother and myself were married.”

  “M, married?” His voice shot up an octave. “M, married as in . . . married? The last word stuck in his throat.

  “Yes, married, young man.” Miss Turner pushed herself upright and stood up. “Before I tell you about that, I think we will have some tea. She reached over to her left and pulled the tasselled cord. “Tea please, Lizzy,” she said as soon as her maid entered the room.

  While they waited for Lizzy to prepare the tea, Miss Turner sat down again and continued on with the conversation. “Not long after the Queen died in 1901, poor Lester went out to the South African war. He was only there a short time and then he was killed. We had only been married a few weeks before he went.”

  “So, your real surname is Crawford? You’re not Miss Turner after all!”

  “I went back to my maiden name after Lester was killed.”

  Hans could hardly get the words out clearly as he tried to assimilate the news. His hands trembled and he felt as if the inside of his mouth had been wiped out with a dry alcohol.

  “But Oma never mentioned . . . ”

  “That’s understandable. Julia had already gone on holiday to Austria. When she did not return we all wondered what had happened. Then, she wrote and said that she had fallen in love with a young man out there. That was your grandfather. They were married and had a family. We used to exchange letters but somehow we lost contact with her.”

  “You didn’t remarry?” Hans wondered whether Miss Turner, or rather Mrs Crawford, would consider his question a bit pertinent.

  “No. Then there were so many widows and single girls left without anyone to marry after the war, I was not alone. Besides, there did not seem to be much point: nobody could replace Lester.”

  “I didn’t even know I had an Uncle Lester!” Hans shook his head in disbelief. It was like discovering some lost treasure in some far off place you could only read about.

  Lizzy entered the room. She placed the tray on the occasional table and poured out two cups, two cube sugar lumps for Hans and a dash of rich creamed milk. Hans took a sip. He found he had not totally lost the taste for a good cup of English tea. He swilled the refreshing liquid round his mouth before swallowing.

  Miss Turner took several sips before replacing her cup and saucer back on the table,which she did with care and precision.

  “Lester was killed just before your elder brother was born. Someone in the family told us that Julia’s daughter had had another baby. That was you. And as I said we lost touch for a while. Then that dreadful war came and Julia was on the opposite side. That made things very difficult.” She picked up her cup and saucer again and drank. Hans noticed the way she held out her right little finger like some pointer to the ceiling. “Your uncle must have been given my address, for he wrote to me asking if I would have a place for you at the school. I knew Julia had quite a bit of money left to her after her parents had gone and I knew she always wanted one of you to receive an English education. It was a dream of hers. I hope you have appreciated what she has done for you.”

  Hans felt humbled. Earlier he had been puzzled as to why Miss Turner had taken such an interest in his welfare.

  “Lester was my great uncle,” He tried to piece the relationships together. “So, that means . . . ” He suddenly felt shaky at the knees.

  “Yes. I am your great aunt; by marriage.”

  The mention of the connection between his grandmother and Miss Turner had astounded him. He was beginning to see some of the reasons behind what had happened: the dismissal of the Brymers with whom he had stayed when he first arrived in England, his time spent in the Turner household, Heidi being offered a position so that he had someone from his homeland to talk with, and now Miss Turner’s offer of help for little Andrea. It was all beginning to make sense.

  Finally, he decided to question her about that photograph. The one with his father in it.

  “That photograph . . . the one with my father. Why?”

  “Just luck. Tim and your father met that first Christmas. Two uniforms. Two opposing armies. It was luck them finding each other like that. In no-man’s land. For a few days they could forget the war and be family again. They could be men who could exchange greetings rather than bullets. When we finally heard about it, everyone was shocked. Not because of what the men did that day but because of what their governments made them do after that. Those men did not want to kill each other but their hands were forced for there was nothing the front-line soldier could do to stop it. That terrible war. All that suffering and, for what?”

  “Papi never came home,” said Hans.

  He tried to sound matter-of-fact but the emotion in his words betrayed the hurt and emptiness he felt. He had admired his father and had missed him each time he had to go away. When the children had been told that Papi was never coming home again, Hans had run into the garden shed where no one could see him. He had sat among the tools Papi had once used and he cried and cried until there were no more tears left in his reddened and swollen eyes. Even though Renard was older, he did not appear to be as upset over his father’s death as Hans and Axel was far too young to remember. And after the war, no one wanted to remember.

  “I was angry with Janine that day you saw the ph
otograph,” explained Miss Turner. “I lost my youngest brother during the last months of ’eighteen. He’d been Janine’s hero when she was a child. It was hard for her to realise that her favourite uncle was never coming home again.”

  She lowered her head and appeared to push her glasses back but Hans noticed that Miss Turner descretely wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye with her finger.

  So, she does have emotions like anyone else, Hans thought.

  Miss Tuner smoothed down the skirt of her dress and straightened her back. She looked up again and shook her head so slightly Hans almost missed noticing it.

  “It was a wicked, terrible war. How can we ever forget?”

  Hans had never heard Miss Turner talk like that before. Nor had he ever seen such deep-felt emotion. It was not the Miss Turner he knew.

  Hans felt sad to learn that Jan had suffered the same pain and anguish he had experienced. Perhaps the incident over the photograph had been her way of expressing her distaste for what the adult world had done to her.

  Miss Turner stopped talking when Jan came into the room. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform although she had removed the shoulder cloak. It had only been a few years since he last saw her but she had changed. The awkward teenager was gone and a self-assured young woman had taken her place. She walked into the room full of confidence as someone who knew where she was going and knowing what path she was taking. As Jan moved across the room, Hans noticed how well she held herself. He thought she seemed taller than her aunt. Obviously, her nursing training was bringing out the better qualities in her. Jan nodded politely in acknowledgement and sat on the settee beside her aunt. Hans stood. He bowed slightly in her direction and klicked his heels together. Then, he sat again.

  “Hello Jan. I hope everything’s well with you?” He smiled as best he could but still found it difficult to be polite and friendly towards her.

  “Thank you. Yes.” Hans could tell she was also finding the meeting difficult, for she had begun to touch the frame of her glasses even though they did not need adjusting just yet. “Did you come to see Andrea?”

  “I did.”

  Before Jan could say another word, her aunt spoke.

  “I have told Resmel about our idea.”

  She reverted to calling him by his surname. He thought that strange after the intimate conversation they had had only a few minutes earlier.

  Old habit from the school days. He found the formality rather amusing.

  “Do you agree?” Jan leant forward, resting her hands on her lap. Her question had thrown him off his equilibrium.

  This is not normal, he was thinking. He sensed a hint of uncertainty in her voice as though she were afraid to hear his reply.

  “Er . . .”

  “It’s only a suggestion,” she professed. He noticed her upper body stiffen and draw away from his presence. “Or, maybe, maybe you’ll want to take her away with you.”

  “No. I would like her to stay.” He forced a reassuring smile. “I think it sounds a very good idea.”

  “We didn’t like the thought of her going into an orphanage.” Jan sounded genuinely concerned. She looked at her aunt as she continued. “That was what we had decided,” and Miss Turner nodded in agreement. Hans was surprised again, for Jan had not sought permission but had reminded her aunt that that was the case. “All her friends are here and she loves her school.” Jan and Hans laughed at the same time but Hans felt he was more nervous than Jan. “She has made new friends. She will need them as Andrew was her best friend.

  “Gerald has found himself a new job. Had you heard?”

  “No, what?”

  “Flying. They are moving very soon.”

  “Not to the other end of the country I hope?” Miss Turner asked.

  “No,” answered Hans. “Just north of London Anne said.”

  “Then the children will be able to see each other from time to time when Anne drives down to visit her mother.” Jan sounded pleased.

  “And Andrea can go and spend some of her holidays with the Brookfield-Smiths,” added Miss Turner with an air of authority.

  “It all seems well planned.” Hans had had no idea the two Turners had already made all the decisions. Miss Turner inclined her body in Hans’ direction.

  “Janine often takes Andrea out on the weekends. She has visited London Zoo and has had a ride on a boat on the Thames, too. Did you know that, Resmel?”

  Hans shook his head. He had had no idea that all these people had rallied around to make Andrea’s life such an exciting one. Even Jan did not seem such an adversary now. Maybe Caroline was right when she said that Hans did not know the Jan she did.

  “When do you return to London, Hans?” asked Jan.

  “In a few days. I’ll take a train to Oxford first and see Robert. He wants to show me around Oxford. He managed to get in to the university but I’ve forgotten exactly what he said he is doing his thesis on. Something to do with mathematics, mechanic or something. He can’t say much. Hush-hush, I guess.”

  “I guess so,” Jan added. “He was a very able student. And after?”

  “Another four days in London and I take a boat to Cuxhaven. This time next week I’ll be back in Germany again.”

  Jan frowned and scratched her nose. She shifted forward on the seat and inclined her upper body in his direction.

  “Is it true what our newspapers report about your new chancellor?”

  “In what way?”

  He already knew what she was about to say for he had been making it his duty to find out what the English thought. He hadn’t thought of Jan as being interested in politics. She had always been the girl who poked her tongue out at him and he had always shown his anger towards her. That was possibly the reason why they often ended up in confrontation. He wondered what she would say next.

  “Well,” she said with some hesitation, “we’ve been told that he wants to expand Germany’s borders. Is there any truth in that?”

  Hans knew Jan well enough to know that she was expecting a straight answer. He bounced the tips of his fingers together with short rapid movements as he thought about how he should answer her. He decided to give her the official point of view that his employers would have expected.

  “Our new chancellor only wants a peaceful Europe. He has no intention of expanding beyond Germany’s former borders. The English government must realise that the German Reich needs to be able to include all German people within its borders. And those borders must include all lands confiscated by the treaty, which Germany was forced to adhere to.”

  He wondered whether Jan would be satisfied with the answer. He was not even certain that he believed every word of it but his bosses in Berlin had trained him sufficiently well in answering politically sensitive questions.

  “You expect the British public to swallow that line?” she asked, re-organising the way her glasses sat across the bridge of her nose. “And what about the rallies and the other disturbing things that are said to be happening?”

  “You don’t have to believe everything you read in your newspapers!” His tone was now curt and abrupt. He jumped up and physically moved closer towards her with a threatening gesture. “Much of what you read is twisted half-truths put out by splinter groups who would rather see Germany collapse.” He pointed wildly into the air at some unseen protester. “They’ve already been responsible for the huge unemployment figures and the burning down of our Reichstag. You have no idea of the problems the Reichskanzler has to sort out!”

  Hans suddenly realised he was beginning to sound just like Renard. He had not meant it to sound that way but Jan still had enough sting in her to drive him into a confrontational affront. His agitation made his face flush. His blue eyes were wild and angry as he looked intently right into her face. For a full minute, no one said a word. His eyes penetrated her defences until Jan lowered her lids and submitted to his stronger will.

  “Let us just forget the politics for a while. Put our differences aside
. Janine, we must not keep Resmel any longer.” Miss Turner stood up and brushed down her crumpled dress. She smiled weakly at Hans as she held out her hand. “Thank you for coming. I am sure you still have much to organise.” He took the hint and pulled at the hem of his pullover, more as a gesture than of necessity. The old lady took up her cane and walked him over to the living-room doorway. “Now, do not forget what I’ve said, young man. Janine and I will be pleased to look after Andrea. Think about it. Let us know what you decide.”

  “I will,” he promised. “And thank you both for what you have already done.”

  He shook her hand again. Both grips were warm and sincere and he realised that Miss Turner bared him no ill will. He was positive that she and Jan would see that Andrea would be well cared for.

  “And thank you, Jan,” he said as she came up along side her aunt. His aunt as well. He must remember that. “I hope politics will not get in the way again. I hope we can part as friends.”

  Jan walked him to the front door to let him out.

  “Good bye, Hans.” She stood holding the side of the door. “Do be careful. I know the newspapers can exaggerate but all the same don’t get involved too deeply with that new crowd over there. I’ve a bad feeling about what’s happening. We have had a taste of it here, as well. It’s most frightening. I hope things will not get worse. It would be awful if there was to be another war.”

  “Don’t worry. Everything’ll be all right. Kanzler Hitler would not risk another war.”

  “I hope you are right.” She began to close the door but suddenly stopped. “If only you didn’t have to leave. You could stay here, you know.” She sounded most genuine.

  He laughed, uneasily.

  “Before long, I’ll be back again in England. I travel back and forth quite regularly but I can keep in touch by mail, if that is what you would like”

  “I would and I am sure you will want to know all about Andrea, Hans.”

  “Then, it’s good bye for now, Jan. Auf Wiedersehen.”

  He clicked his heels together in the old way he had seen his father do and placed his hat on a slight angle.

  “Bye, Hans.” She began closing the door again, so slowly that she could watch him walk away. He could feel the strong lingering presence of her as he opened and closed the small front gate. As he turned right to walk down the street, he looked back at the house. Jan gave a little wave and inched the door closed.

  What a difference nursing had made to Jan Turner, Hans thought.

  He could almost believe he could begin to like her.

  The Berlin office had been most satisfied with the reports Hans had regularly sent back. He had been recalled several times to Berlin to report personally to Oberleutnant Pfinger but he always found such meetings uncomfortable. Pfinger gave the impression that he could become a dangerous man if crossed. Besides, he had connections to those who worked high up in the offices of the Abwehr headquarters. Such men were party to every secret document and information that made its way from foreign governments to the Chancellor’s office. These men were becoming experts in covert operations so it was important to be on one’s guard, just in case their sympathies lay with the Party.

  England’s Prime Minister, Mr Chamberlain, easily gave in to Chancellor Hitler’s demands that German populations along the post-war borders be included in his new Reich. Hans was reminded of the fears Jan Turner had voiced when he had seen her last. Next, the Ruhr was clutched back and then pressure was put on Austria to join the new Germany. No wonder a feeling of unease and suspicion was beginning to develop in the minds of some of the English parliamentarians. Anne had written to Hans saying that she and Gerald still hoped they could remain friends even though their respective governments appeared to be moving further apart.

  While unemployment figures in the Reich fell, the military forces grew. Conscription was the government’s answer to mopping up all those men who would become a burden on the state. Better to employ them building up infrastructure than have them making a nuisance of themselves in the streets. Before long, the manufacture of cars was superseded by the manufacture of tanks and guns. Chancellor Hitler maintained this was done solely for peaceful purposes: to get the economy back on its feet. And, if Mr Chamberlain agreed to swallow that, what else might he be persuaded to consume?

  The last time Hans was able to visit England was just after New Year in 1938. This time he found people were less friendly and although new factories had been built around the outskirts, London was a city expecting some horrible disaster to happen and more of its people were talking about the possibility of new hostilities. Newspapers had, only a few days ago, reported that the german Chancellor had seized control of the army and had put top Nazis into positions of power. The report of this sent ripples of consternation across Europe and across the Channel. As Hans walked through the streets, he could feel a great tension and unease around him. At Waterloo Station he felt that people were looking over their shoulders and although people still went about their normal tasks, each one was less friendly, more reserved and suspicious as if they each concealed some dark secret they did not want to share. The earlier fascist marches he had once seen in Oxford Street were no longer tolerated and their supporters were openly despised. It was as if all of Britain were contracting and gathering in her strength to fight for her survival.

  The train arrived on time at the main town station. Carriage doors slammed shut, steam hissed and those who had just got off began filing off the narrow station platform. Hans noticed that most of the friendly old holiday excursion posters had been removed and new ones warning people to watch out, be vigilant and never talk openly to strangers had been put up instead. Seeing them unnerved him a little so he took his time leaving the station and walking down the main street. He stopped outside the little café where he and Caroline had frequently met and ordered a cup of English tea. He sat beside the window, allowing himself time to unwind and relax. Afterwards, he stepped outside and hailed a taxi in which he could sit back and watch familiar landmarks, houses and cottages that came and went within the small rear vehicle window until the taxi finally turned a tight corner and where, after passing a dozen houses, it stopped outside the gate of the Turner home.

  It was wonderful to see Andrea again, a lovely child who always brought delight. Innocently she chatted to him, showing how she could skip around the room and do pirouettes without falling over. She sat beside him on the sofa, the flames from the open fire playing patterns on her hair. She wriggled closer to him so that she could show him her colouring-in book that she had been so carefully colouring: purple painted fairies flittering among the dark trees tree tops with yellow and blue toadstools dotted in fairy circles among the grass below. She showed him with pride, for there was hardly any paint outside the lines.

  “Shouldn’t toadstools have red spots?” Hans asked.

  “Not mine,” answered the child as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Are fairies always that colour?”

  “Yes. Mine are.”

  “Have you seen any fairies?” Hans was almost teasing Andrea.

  “Yes. I have.” She raised herself onto her knees so that she was able to whisper in his ear. “They only come at night. And big people cannot see them, either.”

  When Andrea ran off to attend to her favourite doll who, she said, needed to be fed and put to bed, Miss Turner turned her attention to the subject that was uppermost in people’s minds.

  “Is it true that your Mr Hitler has put every abled bodied man in the army?” Miss Turner sounded serious and there was a hint of anger in her voice and before Hans had the time to answer, she concluded with utmost indignation, “I hope you haven’t had the stupidity to join!” Hans felt he could not answer. What would Miss Turner say had she knowledge that he was already holding a military rank? But the elderly schoolmistress was not finished. “All this talk of peace, yet all the demands. I am not sure this Mr Hitler of yours is to be trusted. And, what does
he intend to do with the huge armed force he is creating?”

  “I do think Andrea looks well, don’t you?” Hans asked, anything to change the subject and divert Miss Turner’s mind away from military matters.

  “I hope for both your sakes, it will not come to war but I have my fears.”

  The following day, Hans called briefly in to see Anne and Gerald, together with their growing family. Andrew now had a little sister, Alice. Anne had found a replacement for Nanny Goodman and she now had more time to pursue the things she wanted to do. Gerald was still flying and enjoying it. He did not say whether he had joined the air-force but it would not have surprised Hans if he had. There was a RAF base not far from where they were living but when Hans mentioned it, Gerald was more guarded with his answers and quickly changed the subject.

  For the first time in their relationship, Hans found this visit strained, not because they were less friendly towards each other but because of the suspicious nature of the political world that surrounded them. There were now areas of discussion that were never to be entered so much of what they had to say to each other revolved around the children or fell back on the good things things they did together when Caroline was alive.

  By mid-afternoon, Hans had returned to his room at the Inn. He knew in his heart that this would be for the last time. He bought some flowers to put on Caroline’s grave the following morning. The wind was cold and chilled his shoulders. He sat in silence, a cold wind chilling his shoulders and making the bones in his face ache. All the while it threatened to rip his hat from his head and toss it high into the air. He squatted and stared at the meagre bunch of flowers he was holding between his freezing fingers. They looked almost pathetic in number yet they had taken all his loose change and more to buy. He stuffed them into the small ceramic grave vase beside Caroline’s headstone and wished he could have brought more. It was a sombre moment knowing that the waiting to be re-united with her would take so long. He felt a burning longing to visit some of his old haunts and re-live the memories of those happy earlier days yet he knew that could never be.

  Hans quietly said his farewells and left. There did not seem much point in staying longer among the cold and silent graves. He walked quickly through the gateway, crossing the road and picking up the once familiar pathway up the hill, first along side the outer wall of the college grounds, then through the trees and up to the top where he had first sat as a young, unsure foreign student. So much had happened since that day: new language, new experiences, new friendships and then Caroline and Andrea, and, finally a new friendship he had found with Jan, for without her intervention and care, his beautiful daughter would have been lost to him for ever. The thought sent pangs of pain throughout his body.

  Hans sat on the side of the hill, hands deep into his coat pockets, looking out over the rolling countryside until it levelled out and met a dark grey sea. The keen wind whistled around his ears so he used one of his hands to push his hat further on to his head. He was far away in thought remembering the happy days, his love for Caroline and how he had grown just as fond of this place as he had of Salzburg, when a voice close behind him spoke.

  “What are you doing up here on your own?”

  For a moment he thought it was Miss Turner. It sounded like her. But the voice was far younger. He jumped to his feet and spun round like a gyro, almost falling backwards on the uneven ground.

  “Jan!”

  “Hello Hans.” She was only a step away from him, wrapped up to keep warm.

  “I used to come up here in my student days,” he added. He asked her what made her come up the hill but she avoided giving him a direct answer. Instead, she said,

  “Aunt said that you’d returned for a few days. Anne phoned to say you’d visited and asked if I had seen you. She told me that Gerald was so pleased to see you again.”

  “Yes. They appear to be very happy together.” He kicked at a clump grass swaying vigorously in the wind. It was longer than the rest so maybe the sheep did not like its taste. “It may be a long time before I can get back here.” He watched for her reaction but she indicated nothing.

  “What did you think of their new house?”

  “Nice. The children are very lucky to have all that countryside around them.”

  “Cambridgeshire is a lovely county. Have you seen Andrea today?”

  “Yes, but not for long. I couldn’t have asked for a better child. Happy, polite and so talktative. You have done well.”

  “Sorry I missed you the other day. I only arrived from London last evening. Aunt said Andrea was quite excited about your visit. That was a lovely doll’s pram you bought her. She has been pushing it around all day and her dolly loves it, too”

  “I am glad she likes it.”

  Jan turned away from him and looked out over the landscape and towards the English Channel.

  “It’s an awful long way to France. You can’t even see the other coast.”

  “It’s there. Just over the horizon. Not that far at all.”

  Jan gave a light cough, not the kind where you think a cold might be coming but one from deep in the throat when it emotionally sticks and is reluctant to come out.

  “Do you think there will be another war?” she asked still looking out to sea.

  “Not if England doesn’t want one,” he answered flat toned.

  Jan turned around, removing her thick gloves. She removed her glasses and cleaned them on a dainty, frilly, embroidered handkerchief.

  “England doesn’t!” He watched Jan set her glasses back over her ears and then shove them back until they sat firmly across the top of her nose. “I’m not so sure about Germany. It would be awful if there is another war.” She grasped the brim of her hat as another gust tried to snatch it away.

  Hans did not comment. They both waited a while, each one not wanting to make the first move until Hans finally spoke.

  “I’m going back down. Do you want to come too?”

  He perceived a slight turn up at the corners of her mouth. She adjusted her glasses very thoughtfully.

  “Why not! After all, we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “Agreed! Friends we are!”

  She laughed and slapped her hands against her thighs before replacing her gloves.

  “Well, come on, friend. What are we waiting for?”

  Together, they walked back into town and Jan promised Hans that she would try to keep in touch, come what may. Hans had a few more days left when he could see Andrea and when the clouds lifted one afternoon, he and Jan took the child to a nearby park.

  The next morning when he called, Jan was ready to catch the train back to work. Hans accompanied her to the station, of his own free will this time, and as they walked together, they talked of Andrea and of Jan’s nursing studies and of her work at the hospital. Hans lifted Jan’s bag into the train and stood on the platform, watching until the departing train was only a thin line in the distance. He wondered how long it would be before he would be able to visit the Turner house again. That evening, he received a phone call ordering him to return to Germany. Immediately.

  1938, a hot summer day. Hans had been to the Tirpitzufer to hand in a report. He wandered along the canal bank and turned into Unter den Linden to make his way to the station. He paused to soak up the moment: the deafening screams and idolised chanting that electrified the air surrounding the gigantic hanging red swastika flags that swayed effortlessly in the slight breeze. The last words of Hitler’s speech had cut into the air like a sabre, so that even the chatter of the birds fell silent.

  Czechoslovakia shall be wiped off the map!

  Resounding shouts rose to a loud roar as the thousand voices chanted in unison:

  “Heil Hitler!”

  “Sieg Heil!”

  “Heil Hitler! Sieg Heil!”

  The crowd was mesmerised. Their leader stood on the balcony high above the swaying sea of adoring faces. Hitler wiped his hair back and nodded with satisfaction so slightly that only th
e cameras had noted the movement. What his fans saw next, was the movement of his right arm, swinging rhythmically up and down like a vertical pendulum from his elbow.

  The plans were implemented. On October 1st 1938, as agreed with the English Prime Minister, Herr Hitler marched his soldiers into the Czechoslovakian part, known as the Sudetenland. There were many celebrations that had taken place that day as the Sudetenlanders became one with the people of the Reich.

  Hans knew he would never forget making his way home later that evening, for the large crowd of dancing people in the city centre had slowed all trafic progress through there down to a crawl.

  “Did you see any of it, Hans? Wonderful news!”

  Renard was visiting again. He broke the news as Hans barely had time to unlatched the door and step into his uncle’s house. This time, Hans had noted that Renard was in uniform. A wide black swastika armband over the top of his jacket. It was plain to see that he had become one of them; one of Herr Hitler’s admirers. How like Renard. He did nothing done by halves.

  “I hope the Führer knows what he’s doing.” Hans felt his jaw muscles become taut. He removed his hat but kept hold of it as his brother came towards him down the hallway. “Nobody wants war; this side or the other side of the Channel.”

  “Oh, I totally agree, brother!” Renard had reached the cupboard and held the door open for Hans so that he could hang it up. Renard grinned.

  “Mr Chamberlain has shown that England has no wish to stand in Germany’s way but will it necessarily lead to a better Europe?”

  “Certainly!” Renard was grinning so wide that Hans thought his ears might drop off. “I’ve told you all along that the Führer knows what’s best for everyone.” The two brothers made their way to the kitchen. “A thousand year Reich. A German Reich for all Germans. It all makes sense. Isn’t he a marvellous leader? You must admire him! England’s Mr Chamberlain knows a good idea when he’s presented with one, eh?” Renard gave a sly chuckle that did not go amiss.

  Hans had not answered.

  If Renard wants to believe that, Hans thought, then he has been taken in more than I suspected. Even though he now knew that Mr Chamberlain’s words had come true: ‘Peace in our time,’ and that he felt as if he had played some small part in saving the world from another conflict, there was something deep inside that had made him uneasy.

  When Hans had returned to Germany this time the idea of that peace was already beginning to fall apart, whatever Mr Chamberlain may have said, appeared to be coming true. The following year Herr Hitler sent his troops into Bohemia and Maravia. The soldiers positioned their tanks in and around the attractive bohemian city of Prague. No Czech voice had the freedom of expression again.

  Hans received a small photograph of Andrea and another long letter from Jan. The photograph had been taken on Andrea’s birthday. He could hardly believe she was six. A lump stuck in Hans’ throat when he unwrapped the picture from the letter paper he had taken from the envelope with the British stamps.

  How I hate the sight of bedpans now, Jan had written. I’ve been emptying them for the entire week. I am looking forward to next week because I will be working alongside doctors on the emergency ward. I think that will be my forte in life.

  Hope things are well with you. Let’s hope things will settle down and we can meet again.

  Love from Jan

  Hans replaced the letter and photograph in the envelope and tucked it securely into his top pocket. Andrea was synonymous with Jan. How long would it be before he saw either of them again?

  Late in August, 1939, the second large expansion was poised to take place. When Hans made his usual visit to Tirpitzufer, he was informed that Case White had been placed before the generals and areas of thrust were in the process of being transcribed on paper. The attack on Poland was set to begin. If Germany was to have a dominant position in Europe, the Fatherland would need to expand. Lebensraum was needed to grow food for an expanding population, as well as feed all the young boys and soldiers who would become Germany’s new heroes. Like most of the eligible men, Erwin Hans Resmel was called upon to do his duty.

  On the first day of September, Leutnant Resmel was waiting close to the Polish border for the field telephone to ring. It was a still, cool morning and the sun had barely had time to make its appearance. A light mist huddled close to the ground, a curtain concealing something that wanted to remain secretive and unseen. They waited. The minutes ticked on. The rays of the sun started to penetrate and shred the veil until it began to reveal the men and their machines like actors poised for action on a stage. The final moment had arrived. It was almost five o’clock.

  General’s headquarters calling all units.

  The valves in the field wireless hissed and crackled. The message was faint but unmistakable to those who had been prepared to receive it: Prepare to move forward to engage the enemy! Divisions one and three - move to your positions and hold. Divisions two and four - begin your advance at precisely five six and twenty hours. Divisions six and . . . ”

  The men jumped to their feet like a group of school children ready to go on an excursion. But this was no picnic. A loud thundering drone of aircraft engines tore the clouds apart. The dull rumble of giant tanks came closer, passed and clattered across the flat farmland. Suddenly everything around exploded into action as the big guns hurled their whining shells high into the air. The armies of the Third Reich were on the move. The killing was about to commence. Fresh blood was starting to flow. Another war was poised to begin.

  Back in his kitchen, Uncle Karl had his ear close to the wireless. The valves squealed and hissed and finally the news bulletin came through.

  ‘Early this morning, Germany was attacked by a band of Polish fighters. The Führer now asks that you defend your homeland and demonstrate the same bravery and strength of spirit as did our fine men who bravely laid down their lives in the defence of the Fatherland. Heil Hitler!’

  Uncle Karl turned off the wireless just as the first bars of the Horst-Wessel song began: ‘Die Fahne hoch die Reihen fest geschlossen . . . ’

  Aunt Laura spooned the two brown eggs out of the boiling water and cut a few slices of bread which she laid with exactness in the middle of the oval plate. Coffee was perculating quietly in the background. Aunt Laura and Uncle Karl then sat down to enjoy their normal breakfast.