Chapter 39

Christmas Eve 1942

Helen covered her ears, desperate to block out the din coming from her aunt's home. It had been going on for hours now and if she heard them singing ‘O Tannenbaum' one more time she was certain she would lose her mind and bang on the wall dividing them.

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum,

Wie treu sind deine Bl?tter!

Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit…

She gritted her teeth and held her pillow across her mouth, screaming into it as loudly as she dared without waking Bobby. As if this Christmas wasn't awful enough, being the first without her aunt. It was also the first when she and Bobby were in hiding, and just like his birthday a few days before, she didn't have any presents for him. What two-year-old doesn't receive presents? she mused miserably. She tried to remind herself that there was little she could do about any of it. At least he was too young to have any memories of previous Christmases and what they were like, she reasoned.

She gazed at his angelic face, eyelids moving as he dreamed about something. Poor little boy, Helen thought. What experiences did he have to give him anything to dream about? It wasn't fair that such a vibrant child, any child, should be cooped up in a house month after month having to keep quiet most of the time.

She had taken to keeping the curtains open as soon as it was daylight, not closing them until dusk, determined that he should have as much sun on his skin as possible. It wasn't healthy being inside all the time, but what could she do?

Helen rested her head on her arm. Noticing her skin was wet she realised she was crying. She missed Aunt Sylvia terribly. It felt as if she had last spoken to her only the previous day, but at the same time the past few months had been interminable.

‘I can't do this,' she sobbed. ‘It's too difficult.' Bobby stirred, snuggling back against her stomach. She cuddled him, breathing in his scent and calming slightly. She could go on. She had no choice but to do so. Bobby deserved the best life she could give him and although their circumstances were less than perfect, it was all they had.

Another chorus of cheers rang out in the night air from the officers next door. ‘I'm glad you're having a fun Christmas,' she murmured sarcastically. Then, hearing a voice she thought she recognised, she silently got out of bed, ensuring Bobby's shoulders were covered with their blankets so that he didn't get cold and wake up. She crept to the window and opened it, needing to be certain.

Another drunken voice shouted something, several people laughed, then she heard the voice and her heart plummeted. ‘Hauptmann Wilhelm Schneider,' she whispered, shuddering as she pictured the formidable man. How unfair was it that he was billeted in her aunt's home? She needed to tell the others to keep an eye out for him, she decided, recalling the way he had studied her with his piercing, unnerving gaze that first time she had met him at Villa Millbrook.

‘Mama,' Bobby's voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘Yes, poppet?' She quickly closed the window so they couldn't be heard and went to him. She kissed his cheek. He didn't stir and she realised he was talking in his sleep.

Sleep. It was what she needed right now. Time away from her reality of grief, restriction and longing to be living a different life somewhere else. She gave a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, willing her mind to settle enough for her to drift off.

Helen was woken an hour later having dreamt that the Hauptmann had broken into the attic through the window. Unsettled by the memory, she sat up trying to calm her breathing. She thought of the German soldier who was pestering Peggy and wondered if it might be him. She hoped not. If while she was downstairs someone came unexpectedly to the house, someone who knew that there were supposed to be only three women living there, she might avoid being caught, but not if that person was the Hauptmann. He would recognise her immediately, she had no doubt about that.

Troubled by her thoughts, Helen concentrated on breathing in slowly, then exhaling, several times, hoping to calm her racing pulse before lying down and trying to get back to sleep.

She was woken a few hours later by Bobby pulling her nose. Her eyes flicked open, and she made a face at him, taking his hand and gently removing it. ‘Ouch.'

Bobby giggled and, getting up from their mattress on the floor, ran across the room to his toys, seeming very happy.

It was Christmas Day. Helen wondered how many more they would be forced to celebrate in this way, and hoped not many. ‘No,' she said, determined to make the most of her day, regardless of how different it was for her this year. Like the Hamels would no doubt do, she would put on a brave face and at least try to appear happy even if she felt like sobbing into her pillow. It's what her aunt would have wanted, that much she did know.

‘Come along, Bobby,' she said. ‘Let's wash and dress so that we're ready for when Babs comes to give us the all-clear.'

He clapped his hands together, no doubt because of the excitement in her voice rather than understanding what she had said. Seeing his reaction made her determined to give him the best Christmas she possibly could.