Chapter 13

‘How's your Aunt Sylvia's health these days?' Cook asked when they sat down for their morning break between serving breakfast and preparing lunch.

Helen cupped her mug of tea in her hands despite the heat in the kitchen, soothed by the warmth of the drink. ‘She's not doing too well, I'm afraid.' She didn't like to add that each morning when she went downstairs for breakfast, and each evening when she returned to the house after work, she was anxious that something might have happened to her aunt in her absence. She would give a lot for reassurance that her aunt's health had fully returned, but she couldn't fool herself; the reality was that her aunt was much slower these days, even though she did her best to hide it.

‘I can see by your face how worried you are about her,' Cook said, her voice gentle.

Helen had worried about her aunt many times but hadn't expected Mrs Jeune to have noticed her concerns, since she was always so busy cooking. ‘It probably doesn't help that there's little healthy food available. The doctor said she needs more protein, preferably red meat to help her iron levels, but where are we supposed to find good meat nowadays?'

She heard the panic in her voice and smiled to soften her tone. Her aunt wouldn't thank her for sharing their private matters with someone who wasn't family.

‘Can I help?' Cook asked before being distracted by something at the kitchen door.

Helen turned to see Leutnant Müller standing in the doorway looking sheepish.

‘My apologies. It is nothing.' He gave a curt nod before leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.

‘Well, that was odd,' Mrs Jeune mused. ‘Then again, some of them can be very strange.'

‘They can,' Helen said, embarrassed in case he had caught any of their conversation. ‘I shouldn't go on about Aunty Sylvia.'

The older woman stared at her sagely. ‘It's perfectly natural you should worry. You had a dreadful shock when she was taken ill and, let's face it, she is your only relative here.'

Helen was grateful to have someone other than her aunt and two friends to confide in. She knew, too, how lucky she was to have a job where she could occasionally take Bobby with her, and didn't like to bother Mrs Jeune with her personal problems.

Insisting she was fine, Helen returned to her work, but was glad when the end of the day finally arrived. She removed her apron and dressed Bobby in his hat, woolly mittens and a coat that she realised with dismay was becoming rather too small for him. She had no idea where she might find another, and by the look of things he wasn't going to be able to wear this one for very much longer.

‘I'll be off now, Mrs Jeune,' she said, taking hold of the pram and pushing it towards the kitchen door. ‘Hopefully my aunt or Mrs Hamel will be able to look after Bobby for me tomorrow.'

‘Don't you fret about him, my girl. He's a dear little soul and no trouble at all. He brightens up the place. I had noticed he's getting a little big for that pram of his.'

Helen had been thinking the same thing. ‘I need to find him a pushchair, but I've no idea where to look.' She didn't add that she couldn't afford to buy one.

‘I'm sure he'll be fine for now.'

Helen smiled gratefully. She never used to feel guilty about things before having Bobby, but it amazed her how kind some people could be. She was pushing the pram out of the back door to leave the house when a deep voice called out to her.

‘Frau Bowman.'

She tensed. It was Leutnant Müller. His voice was quiet. Sensing that he had been waiting for her, she felt a chill pass through her.

She turned slowly. ‘Y-Yes?'

She noticed he was holding something wrapped in newspaper.

‘Please,' he said, his voice hushed. ‘Take this.' He glanced to his side to check they were still alone.

Helen's grip on the pram handle tightened. Unsure what to do but aware she daren't make a scene and draw attention to herself, she waited for him to continue. She looked down at the package he was holding. ‘I don't think?—'

‘Please. Take it.'

‘What is it?'

‘Meat.'

She gasped. ‘I can't take this, it's stealing.' It was her turn to check they weren't being watched.

‘Nein. No. It is not. This is my food. I asked for it not to be cooked.'

She felt cornered and wished he would leave her alone. He was trying to be kind, but his familiarity intimidated her ‘I don't understand.'

He looked shamefaced. ‘I hear you speaking to the cook before. About your aunt who is ill,' he added when she didn't react.

Helen grimaced. So she had been right to suspect he had overheard her conversation with Mrs Jeune. She struggled to explain her reason for refusing his kind gesture. ‘It doesn't feel right to take it from you.' She pictured her aunt, so frail now, and wanted more than anything to grab the package from him and run home with it.

‘I assure you it is acceptable. Your aunt needs this. I have a mother in Germany. I would not wish her to starve.' He held it out towards her. ‘I must go. Take it. Please.'

She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn't about to make a stupid mistake by following her emotions rather than her instincts. ‘I will, but only this time.'

Taking it from him, she tried to think where she might hide it.

He pointed to Bobby's pram. Then, hearing Hauptmann Schneider shouting at someone from the front door, and not daring to waste any more time, Helen lifted the thin mattress near her son's feet and quickly shoved the package underneath. With the blankets tucked back in, it was neatly covered. Helen quietly thanked him. ‘I'd better go.'

He seemed as relieved as she was that their covert conversation had ended.

Helen felt as if everyone could tell she was sneaking meat off the property. As she neared the guard at the gate, she hoped she didn't look as guilty as she felt. She might not have stolen the meat, but would a soldier believe that if she was caught with it? Even worse, she mused, as the guard waved for her to pass the raised barrier, would be if one of the islanders discovered her with it. Would they accuse her of collaborating for favours? She shuddered at the prospect. She couldn't bear people thinking her capable of horizontal collaboration.

She hurried along St Aubin's Road, glad to be away from the villa, and was about halfway home when she spotted Babs coming towards her.

‘Hello, there,' Babs chirped, clearly in a cheerful mood. ‘Isn't it lovely to see the sunshine?'

Helen was about to agree when she noticed Babs's expression change to one of horror. Unsure why, Helen tensed and glanced behind her in case she was being followed. She looked back at her friend, who pointed discreetly at the pram.

‘What?' Helen asked before following her friend's gaze. To her horror she saw that small drops of blood were pooling at her feet. She was barely able to breathe. The meat. She should have wrapped it in something else, but she hadn't had time.

Two soldiers appeared at the entrance of Hansford Lane. They seemed to be deciding which direction they should go. Unsure what to do, Helen focused on trying not to panic. She reached forward and, desperate to stop the blood leaking from the pram, took Bobby's blanket from him and stuffed it under the mattress, hoping it would soak up any liquid.

As the breeze came in contact with his legs, Bobby's face crumpled, and he let out a bellow. She didn't blame him but wished he would calm down and not draw attention to them. She froze when the soldiers looked over in her direction, alerted by Bobby's infuriated cries as they increased in pitch. Helen knew she was about to be stopped.

She was bracing herself for being arrested for theft as soon as they spotted the blood, when Babs cried out. The soldiers immediately turned their attention to her pretty blonde friend.

‘Go!' Babs hissed. ‘Now, and don't look back.' Realising this was Babs's way of distracting them to let her escape, Helen increased her pace, grateful to her friend for her quick thinking.

As Helen strode away from the scene, she heard the soldiers asking Babs if she was all right and her replying that she had dropped a couple of Reichsmarks down the drain near her feet. Not daring to slow down and check on the meat, Helen hoped she would be able to reach home before any more blood began to drip. Bobby's cries were causing people to look at them and reminding her that his legs were exposed. Without slowing down she hurriedly unwound her scarf from her neck and draped it over them.

‘That's better, isn't it?' she soothed. ‘We'll soon be home.'

He pulled the edge of the silky scarf up to his face and covered it, calming immediately now he had something soft to cuddle.

She pulled his pram up the front steps, adrenalin helping her manage it more quickly than usual. As soon as the front door closed with a satisfying clunk, Helen leant her bottom against it, trying to catch her breath, and promised herself she would never take a chance like this again.

‘Is everything all right?' Sylvia asked, joining her from the kitchen. ‘Helen?'

She smiled, not wanting to concern her aunt. ‘I'm fine. We both are. But I've smuggled something back for our supper and almost got caught doing it.'

Aunt Sylvia scowled. ‘Smuggled? Helen, what have you done?'

‘I'll tell you as soon as I've gathered myself,' she replied, unbuttoning her coat and hanging it up. She took her scarf from Bobby's grip, setting his crying off again. Then, unclipping him from his harness, Helen lifted him and carried him through to his highchair, relieved his clothes hadn't been soiled by the liquid under his mattress.

When she returned to the hallway, she noticed her aunt peering in the pram. ‘Is that?—'

‘It's blood,' Helen said, shaking her head when her aunt looked at her aghast. ‘From a piece of meat I was given.'

Her aunt's mouth dropped open. ‘You have meat hidden in Bobby's pram?'

‘Why don't you make us a cup of tea while I clean this up, Aunty?' She lifted the mattress and removed the dripping paper package, trying not to retch at the iron smell of the blood.

Her aunt grimaced. ‘Wait a minute while I fetch a plate for that.' She disappeared into the kitchen. ‘We don't need a mess on the floor.' She returned and Helen placed the soggy parcel on the plate for her aunt to take back with her to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, after cutting the fillet into two, having determined to give half to Babs as a thank you for her help, Helen divided the rest between her and her aunt. Sylvia had refused to eat it unless they shared it.

‘I'm not sure how to cook it to make the most of it.'

Sylvia sipped her tea. ‘I think we should make a nourishing stew,' she said eventually. ‘We have a few vegetables past their best, but they'll be disguised well enough in a stew.' She focused her attention on Helen, who struggled not to look away under her aunt's scrutiny. ‘You never mentioned who gave this to you. And more to the point, why?'

Recalling their previous cross words over the hard-boiled egg, Helen explained about the soldier overhearing her conversation with Mrs Jeune and wanting to help. ‘I wasn't comfortable accepting it, but we heard someone calling him and neither of us wanted to be caught. I know it was nicely meant. I just wish I had been able to wrap the bundle up a little better to contain the drips.'

‘You were incredibly lucky not to be caught,' her aunt said, after Helen explained what Babs had done. ‘Thank heavens that dear girl appeared when she did and reacted so quickly.'

‘I agree. That's why I thought we should share the meat with her. I know it'll mean we have less, and there won't be much at all for Babs once she's shared it with her mum and sister, but at least we all have benefit from it.'

A knock on the front door made them jump. Sylvia put her hand to her chest, and Helen worried that the two soldiers had been suspicious of her after all and followed her home.

‘You see who that is,' her aunt said. ‘I'll hide this lot.'

Leaving her aunt to find somewhere to hide the meat, Helen rushed to the front door, relieved that she had thought to clean the pram before doing anything else.

She smoothed down her hair, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt, before turning the door handle and opening the door.

‘Babs, it's you.' She exhaled sharply, unable to hide her relief.

‘I thought I'd better come and check you're all right,' Babs said, lowering her voice as two women walked past the house.

‘Yes, thanks to you.' Helen gave the nosy women a pointed look when they glanced up in her direction. ‘You'd better come inside.' She stood back to let her friend in. Closing the door, she pulled Babs into a hug. ‘I can't thank you enough for what you did back there,' she said, her voice tightening with emotion.

‘Don't be silly.' Babs patted her on the shoulder. ‘I was happy to do it. Mind you,' Babs said widening her eyes, ‘I wasn't sure it would work.'

Helen recalled how promptly the two soldiers had responded, spotting her pretty friend in distress and running to help her. ‘Well, I'm eternally grateful for your quick thinking. Come through to the kitchen, I have a little thank-you gift for you.'

As she walked through, Helen decided there and then that she needed to get rid of the pram. Bobby was too big for it, anyway, and with nowhere to hide parcels in a pushchair she would have the perfect excuse to refuse any further offers of meat.