The Girl from the Island. Lorna Cook

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The Girl from the Island - Lorna Cook

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looked concerned and rubbed sleep from her eyes. ‘What did you say?’

      Persey shook her head. ‘Nothing. I think I was dreaming.’

      ‘You were. But you said something and then you shot up and dragged all the blankets from me.’

      Persey looked down. She was clutching the bedding and had pulled it all from Dido and had it in a heap on top of her. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled as Dido took her half back.

      Persey sat still and looked into her lap. Could her suspicions be correct?

      ‘What were you dreaming about?’ Dido asked as she lay back down and put her head against the pillow.

      Persey paused a moment before speaking. ‘Do you remember those summers when Mother’s friend Agnes had her nephew to stay?’

      ‘No,’ Dido said sleepily. ‘Is that what you were dreaming about?’

      Persey nodded and then switched off the lamp and lay back down. ‘Yes.’ She rubbed her forefinger along her lower lip as she thought.

      ‘Don’t you remember him?’

      ‘The nephew?’ Dido said sleepily in the darkness. ‘Not really. Maybe.’

      ‘Of course you do,’ Persey said. ‘Think.’

      ‘Persey, it was years ago.’

      ‘Over ten years ago, yes. He used to spend the summers in Guernsey with Agnes and her husband and then he’d return to Germany to his studies at the end. You must remember him.’

      Dido rolled over. Silence. And then, ‘Johann? Was that his name?’

      Persey smiled. ‘Stefan.’

      Dido shifted position, onto her back. ‘Didn’t Agnes move back to England?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Is that why he stopped coming?’ Dido asked.

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Is it important?’ Dido questioned with a yawn.

      ‘No. Only I thought …’

      But Dido cut Persey off. ‘She’ll be interned in England now, won’t she?’

      ‘Who?’ Persey asked as she tried to picture Stefan’s face from a decade ago – wondering what he would look like now.

      ‘Agnes. And her husband. She’s English but he’s German. They’ll be interned, won’t they? Or will it be just him? Enemy aliens and all that.’

      ‘I suppose so, yes. How horrid,’ Persey said.

      ‘If they’re German, they’re the enemy,’ Dido declared.

      Persey thought about that for a long time, unsure how she felt, unsure how to respond. She wanted to ask Dido if she really thought that old friends could simply be the enemy because the government told you they were, but Dido was already breathing heavily, asleep next to her.

      They had known to expect the return of the Germans to the house but none of them had realised it would happen so soon in the day. They had sat down to breakfast in the dining room, Jack waxing lyrical about the locations he needed to visit over the next week, the reconnaissance he was expected to carry out and the kind of help he might need if the girls were willing, when an efficient three-rap knock sounded at the front door.

      They looked at Jack for instruction and Mrs Grant issued a startled noise.

      ‘Don’t panic,’ Jack said confidently. ‘Everyone knows the story … I’ve been here the whole time.’

      Persey nodded, though her heart clattered in her chest.

      The knocking sounded again but it was Dido who moved. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, someone should answer or it’ll start to look suspicious from the off.’ She was already out of the dining room door.

      Persey sat still, her plate of food uneaten. Jack carried on eating as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but as Persey looked closer she could see his hand shaking as he lifted his fork. She reached to still him and he put his fork down and swallowed.

      There were only two men this time, led into the dining room by Dido. The men glanced around at the sage green walls and the antique furniture dotted around the room. Persey looked where they looked, an excuse not to look at the men properly, not to make eye contact.

      ‘Excuse me for intruding,’ the first said in perfect English. ‘You are eating. I keep invading when you are busy.’

      ‘Invading …’ Dido muttered with an arched brow.

      Persey looked up slowly at the man and he looked back at her. She held her breath. She had known. Even though she had not been able to see his face fully under his hat; even though she’d had tears in her eyes, crying about her mother. She had known yesterday it was him. It was his voice.

      The man looked lost for words, but eventually found his voice. ‘I apologise, but we need to look at the bedrooms.’

      Mrs Grant spluttered, ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘This property is situated close to the airport and is of a substantial size. We have men we need to accommodate on the island.’

      ‘Here?’ Persey spoke sharply.

      He looked at her. Those blue eyes. ‘Yes.’

      ‘We don’t have any spare,’ Dido said, folding her arms.

      With Jack returning to claim his room, that left only one room vacant … their mother’s. They wouldn’t be expected to house a German in Mother’s room surely? Not when she’d been gone such a short amount of time. There needed to be some level of respect.

      ‘May we take a look, please?’ he asked.

      Dido relented. ‘We only have one. It was our mother’s. Her things are … You might not want it.’

      The German didn’t speak.

      Persey asked, ‘Do we have a choice?’

      ‘I am afraid not.’

      Dido sighed and looked to Persey for help but she knew there was nothing they could do. Persey nodded.

      ‘Thank you.’ The man looked at Persey again and then turned to follow Dido as she moved towards the stairs.

      ‘Should one of us go with her?’ Jack asked. ‘We’ve just left her alone with two enemy soldiers.’

      ‘Not you,’ Mrs Grant whispered to Jack. ‘You keep your head down.’

      Persey pushed her chair back from the table but Mrs Grant had already made her intention to follow Dido clear and had left the room.

      ‘All right?’ Jack asked

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