The German Nurse. M.J. Hollows
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‘What’s the problem?’ he asked, being deliberately vague so that she could give her version of events. The assistant hesitated, looking over his shoulder and then tried to form the words, but they only came out in a stutter. ‘Take your time.’
She nodded, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She smiled and then found her words. ‘I’m one of the seamstresses here at Creasey’s.’ She almost struggled on the esses but managed to compose herself. Jack nodded. She started unfolding the material so that she could show him what she was working on. ‘I’ve been asked to make a flag, see? A German chap came in here and asked for it specifically. They said he was the commander or something.’
She held up the red material for him to see and he finally realised. She had been stitching a white circlet in the middle of the flag, and the black cross of the German Reich lay next to it to be attached when she was ready.
‘Well?’ Mrs Fletcher butted in, and Jack had almost forgotten she was there. He couldn’t help but agree with her, but there was no way he was going to say that out loud. ‘Shouldn’t your lot be doing something about this kind of thing? Make her stop.’
Jack resisted the urge to sigh. What exactly was he ‘supposed’ to do about the German invasion of Guernsey? They could hardly stand up to an army, and it was apparent that elements of the German invasion force were already making themselves known on the island.
‘I can no more make her stop, than you can, Mrs Fletcher.’ She looked as if she was on the verge of trying, but Jack made his presence felt between the two of them. ‘The Germans have occupied the islands, and we will have to accept that. As for this flag here, there’s nothing illegal about it. They have been paid for a service and they are providing one. The assistant here is just doing the job asked of her by her employer. If the German Kommandant wants a new flag made, then there is nothing I or any other policeman for that matter can do about it. It is his right as new commander of the island, as it is any customer’s right to receive the service they have paid for.’
‘Then what are we paying you for? Exactly whose side are you on?’
It was a question he had heard a thousand times before from many a disgruntled person, either being arrested, or wondering why the police refused to arrest them. Did the Fletcher woman really want him to put that poor girl in jail for doing her job? If that happened, then who would be next?
‘I’m a policeman,’ he said. ‘I’m on the side of the people.’
Mrs Fletcher made a ‘hmphh’ sound, somewhere between a hum and a tut. When he turned, she had marched to the main door and was reaching for the handle. Nodding at the shop assistant and throwing a smile back in Madeleine’s direction, he headed to the door as well. He wanted to make sure that the Fletcher woman wasn’t going to cause any more trouble. When he stepped onto the pavement outside the department store, she was nowhere to be seen. The few people going about the town eyed him warily as they passed. Jack wondered whether everyone had stayed at home and bolted their front doors to keep away the Germans. If they had, they couldn’t stay like that forever.
He realised then, that he had forgotten the shoes he had gone in for. He looked at the door of the department store, but he couldn’t face seeing Madeleine again, let alone admitting that he had forgotten what he had gone in for. He would just have to pop in again another day, but then maybe Madeleine would think he had gone back to see her. He no longer had feelings for the woman, they had grown apart since they were younger, but it was still awkward, and he felt a certain sense of betrayal towards Johanna for even being in the same room as an old flame. He would have to find a time when she wasn’t working.
The shoes wouldn’t be going anywhere, and he could always surprise Johanna another time. He thought of the joyous look she would give him when he gave her the gift, and he smiled as he walked away from the store.
*
Further along High Street on the corner that intersected with The Pollet, Jack was stopped by a scene that made his heart stop. A group of men walked along the street in his direction, tall men wearing pristine grey uniforms with rifles slung on their shoulders. They were calling to each other in German and cheering when they saw a local. Jack took a step backwards without realising. Part of him, some ancient instinct he barely had control over, wanted to run away, to be as far away from them as possible. Their very presence was intimidating, like the boys who had run the schoolyard. He forced himself to stand firm. He would not run.
If this was the invasion, then it was tame compared to what Jack and the others had expected. The bombing of the island and the harbour had been a horrible tragedy, bringing about completely needless deaths, but it had felt distant, even to Jack. Yet he had expected a proper invasion to be closer, more frantic, full of the sounds of gunfire and explosions ripping past him as he tried futilely to defend his home.
Instead, they walked past, some of them flashing smiles at the few locals who were around. They smelt like the British soldiers, but much, much stronger. Gun oil, boot polish, and a weird perfume that he couldn’t quite place. They talked German softly between themselves as some broke off from the group to enter the shops and others stopped in pairs to smoke. The clean white cigarettes gave off a different colour of smoke than the local variants and only added to the feeling that these men were different, somehow alien.
They were shopping as if it was normal, as if they were locals going about their business, rather than invaders. Jack wondered whether it was all part of their plan, to act normally and build confidence in the local population. He couldn’t feel anything but contempt for these men, even though he didn’t know them. He needed to go to the police station, warn them that the rest of the German soldiers had arrived and were treating the town as their own. He looked around himself to see if any of them were watching, and then like a criminal he slunk away down the back streets to advise his superiors.
*
2 July 1940
The crowds were starting to gather outside and around the Royal Hotel, forming a line along the promenade facing out to sea. It seemed as if everyone wanted to get a look at the occupation force as it gave its first parade. Whether it was out of a sense of morbid curiosity, Jack wasn’t sure, but they had come in numbers. The police had expected as much, and he had been posted along with David and the rest of his colleagues to stand guard along the route. It was more like a guard of honour than any real effort to prevent trouble. Despite the interest, there would be many who were unhappy with the occupiers, and some may take things into their own hands. Jack wasn’t sure what he could do in that situation, but he would not refuse his duty.
He found it difficult to concentrate as the minutes dragged by, and his mind drifted to Johanna. What would she be thinking now that the Germans were here? He was lost in his own thoughts when he heard the shouting. He scanned the crowd, but there were too many people. He felt David tense and take a step forward beside him.
‘My husband! My husband! Has anyone seen my husband?’ The woman was close to running as she pushed through the crowd. She was looking around her, moving on with each glance. The more she looked, the more frantic she became, turning this way and that, going back on herself before seeming to change her mind. Her dress was frayed and torn and there was mud splattered up one side. Her brown hair was also in a tangle.