Chapter 42

March 1943

March arrived with little ceremony and overcast weather. Peggy would have welcomed sunshine to brighten the days, but the thought of 1943 being as bad as the previous year was depressing. She thought back over the previous twelve months. Little had improved; in fact quite the opposite. From what she heard islanders saying, there wasn't much to be cheerful about as far as the Allied forces were concerned, either. Morale on the island had been at an all-time low since the deportations the previous September.

Peggy discovered from her boss that there had been a massive bombing raid on Berlin by the British and US forces on the first of the month with heavy casualties. She hated to think of innocent people being killed regardless of which side they were on, but seeing less exuberance in the German soldiers on the island did make her feel slightly encouraged that maybe the year might not be all that bad after all.

Hope was what they needed, and this had given them a taste of it. They just needed more. Much more.

She sat in Advocate Le Gresley's office with her pencil and notepad waiting for him to dictate a couple of letters, but he seemed more thoughtful than usual.

‘Is everything all right, Advocate Le Gresley?' she asked.

He sighed. ‘I'm concerned about the increasing shortage of food and now medicines. I've also noticed the petty crime on the island, too. There seems to be so much more of it now and it worries me.' He shrugged. ‘I understand the frustration people are dealing with, and the desperation for medicine in some cases, but stealing from others, especially Nazis, really isn't the answer. All it will do is bring bigger trouble to our doorsteps.'

‘It will.' Peggy wished there was something she could do about it, and said so.

‘We all probably feel that way, Peggy,' he said. ‘I know I do. Tony, his mother and I were talking about this only the other night and saying how much luckier we are to have a garden and somewhere to grow a few extra vegetables than those without an outside space.' He gave an apologetic grimace. Peggy realised it must have shown on her face that she wished she was one of those with a garden. ‘I don't mean to speak out of turn.'

‘You didn't. Although I would love to have somewhere to grow things. Even a window box.' She thought of Helen and Bobby and how much it could brighten their day to see something colourful on their windowsill.

His expression changed and he seemed rather pleased with himself. ‘Leave it with me. I'll ask Tony to help me make a couple for you. I'm sure we have some wood somewhere and we certainly have soil to plant them up. I'll be certain to let you have seeds, too.'

Peggy saw his shoulders relax slightly and was glad he seemed more cheerful. ‘It's very kind of you. My mother and sister, and…' she hesitated, stopping herself just in time from adding Helen's name ‘…me, of course, will be very grateful. It will be exciting to be able to grow a few things for ourselves.'

‘I'm glad to help in any way I can.' He stopped pacing and sat at his desk. ‘I find watching plants grow gives me hope somehow.'

‘I can see why.' Peggy couldn't wait to go home and tell the rest of her household that they could soon expect to be able to plant some vegetables of their own. It would be a new experience for little Bobby, and would give him and Helen something to do.

‘Shall we begin?' he asked smiling.

It took Peggy a moment to realise he was talking about the dictation.

‘Yes, of course.'