‘Well, have you?’ Dido asked.
‘Only for a moment or so before Stefan arrived in his car and put paid to that.’ They strolled back through the High Street to the bus stop, which was far busier than usual on the route leaving the town. ‘There weren’t this many people on the way in,’ Persey said, worrying if they’d be able to get home easily.
‘Now people aren’t allowed to use their motorcars, it’s bus or bicycle if they want to come all the way into town,’ Dido said.
‘And probably not the bus for that much longer,’ Persey said.
‘We’ve been shopping,’ Dido announced to Stefan as they met him in the drive at Deux Tourelles. Dido didn’t wait for Stefan to comment, she moved past him and into the house. Persey stood and waited politely for the man she hardly knew any longer to speak.
‘Did you buy anything nice?’ he asked.
‘No. Not really.’
Stefan looked around as if for inspiration as to how to continue the conversation but finding nothing else on the subject of shopping he said, ‘I need a room.’
Persephone frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A room that I can use to work, when I am here.’
‘You don’t have one of those at the hotel where your lot have descended in droves to run your precious Occupation?’ she asked.
Stefan stepped forward. ‘You don’t have to be like this.’
‘Like what?’ she asked, looking away.
‘I am, regretfully, part of an invading force but it is you who is hostile.’
‘I—’ she started but was cut off.
‘Would you be like this if I was just an ordinary German official?’
‘You are just an ordinary German official,’ she countered.
‘But I am not. Not to you,’ he said meaningfully. ‘And neither are you just a girl on this island to me. We have known each other for too long for this kind of behaviour.’
‘Behaviour?’ she questioned and then moved on. ‘We haven’t known each other for too long,’ she said with wide eyes. ‘We really haven’t. It’s been ten years.’
‘So you are so fond of stating,’ Stefan said with a smile.
‘You were just a boy who used to visit, who used to stay withhis aunt and uncle. You were just a boy who upped and left one day and never returned. You didn’t mean anything to us other than within the realms of the summer holidays. But that was then and … and …’ She took a deep breath as she looked at him. His face fell and then he appeared to stand taller suddenly. ‘I don’t think you understand,’ she said.
‘I understand you perfectly,’ Stefan replied. It was his deflated expression that worked within Persephone to soften her. She looked away from him for a moment, across the field. The view hadn’t changed but her outlook had. She knew she’d been cruel. The truth was that she was devastated. The boy she’d liked had grown into a man in a uniform she hated. What was she supposed to do, to say, to think? Did he really think nothing would have changed and that they’d welcome him with open arms? She couldn’t simply trust him because she’d once known him. She was sure this would have rung true even if he hadn’t been in the uniform of an invading force. ‘I’m sorry,’ she tried to soften the blow of her words. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘About the room,’ he said stiffly. ‘It has become clear to me that you use the room directly to the right of the front door as your primary sitting room.’
Persey took a deep breath but didn’t reply.
‘And so I will take the smaller one in between that and the kitchen.’
‘That’s Mrs Grant’s sitting room.’
‘I am sorry for the hardship but this is war,’ Stefan replied before abruptly turning and entering the house.
Candie Gardens bloomed with such beautiful flowers that Persephone was in danger of being late to meet Lise on Saturday as she stopped to take in the sights and smells while walking past the heated glasshouses. The garden of Deux Tourelles had once been as beautiful as this, she thought, although obviously a fraction of the size. The rose garden at the house in particular, walledon three sides, had been laid out and thrived but since the gardener had left Guernsey at the end of 1939 to join the navy, no one had paid too much attention to it at home. Instead, Mrs Grant had focused on the vegetable garden outside the kitchen door, ensuring a never-ending crop of root vegetables in the winter and salad leaves in summer. Perhaps if Persey ever found the time she would venture into the rose garden with shears and cut back the dead and cultivate the living.
Persey waited for Lise at the statue of Victor Hugo, who had been exiled in Guernsey. In the sculpture he looked thoughtful, hat in hand and bent over his cane. She’d written back to her friend to confirm she could meet at the appointed time, but at ten minutes past ten, after distracting herself by looking down the sloping gardens toward the nearby islands of Herm, Sark and Jethou, she was close to giving up on her colleague. Where was Lise?
Three Germans stood and looked up at the statue before smiling kindly at Persephone. She smiled politely back; it pained her but she didn’t wish to draw attention to herself by looking surly. Suddenly one announced ‘Heil Hitler’ at her and they moved on. Persey’s smile dropped and she struggled to breathe. Someone had dared Heil Hitler at her. She grabbed at the statue for support and breathed out deeply. How long would this all last?
