Persey explained how Jack’s escape had gone so horrifically wrong, the frightening chase through the woods in which she thought she was seconds away from being shot or captured, and how Stefan had come to her room brandishing a torch as if it was evidence. ‘Which of course it was, really.’
‘Oh good Lord. So that’s what he found. You must be more careful, Persey.’
‘I’m being as careful as I can,’ Persey hissed. ‘Given the circumstances.’
‘I know,’ Dido said. ‘It’s all so dreadful. And now Jack’s trapped. For how long?’
‘I don’t know. I think for the duration.’
‘No. That can’t be true.’
‘There was no plan for a second pick-up if the first went wrong, which it did. Now he thinks he’s been abandoned.’
‘He has, probably. We all have.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Persey said.
‘It’s true though, isn’t it? Where’s our help? We were told to hotfoot it or else. We’ve chosen “or else”, much to our idiocy. And now we’re regretting it.’
Persey thought of Stefan’s words last night. ‘It could be much worse.’
Dido kicked at the Chinese rug. ‘Yes, I suppose.’
Persey put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘How was the club last night? I think our resident Nazi appreciated your singing.’ As she said it, she knew it was an unfair accusation. He wasn’t a Nazi. He was willing to do his job but his heart didn’t seem in it. His words last night had told her as much. His actions said the same. Would any other officer have simply given her a ticking off, a warning? No, he wasn’t a Nazi, he was just wearing their colours.
‘It’s different now. So many Germans. The usual crowd are drifting away. The atmosphere has changed. The soldiers knew all the words to our songs. Imagine that. Sang along quite happily in English. Quite surprised me. Do you know,’ Dido said thoughtfully, ‘now you mention about him being our resident Nazi … I’m not sure Stefan is a Nazi. Something he said in the car as we sat looking at Les Hanois Lighthouse and the moon on the water did rather make me wonder.’
‘That sounds romantic,’ Persey said.
‘Oh, it wasn’t really,’ Dido said, her tone dismissive. ‘The club was monstrously busy and Stefan said afterwards he needed a bit of quiet, away from all the other officers. They weren’t even that rowdy. All very polite, which shocked me. I was expecting leering and jeering and to have to beg Stefan to rescue my virtue, but actually they’re all quite nice, miss their mothers, miss their wives, miss their children. Very grateful to be here and not elsewhere. Perhaps they’re under orders to keep their hands off us all. No fraternisation.’
Persey had been to see Dido sing a few times when the hotel ballrooms had been open to paying tourists. She had only taken up the job two years ago when her musical performances at amateur dramatic societies had organically led to this. Mother and Father hadn’t known whether to be furious, Dido accepting such a paying role, or proud of their daughter whose voice had been so universally appreciated. In the end they’d settled on a reaction somewhere in the middle as their daughter sang to respectable couples keen to dine and dance. Back then, her motherand father had accompanied her too and they’d taken a table for dinner, proudly watching Dido sing to mainlanders who were drawn to Guernsey by railway travel posters naming it the Sunshine Island. It really was.
But while the sun still shone down on the island, now it was an army and civil administration replacing tourists in the clubs and lounges.
Persey mused. ‘No fraternisation,’ she repeated. ‘Thank goodness. What did Stefan say?’ she asked too casually. ‘At the lighthouse?’
‘He said it was all such an awful shame, this war. That it was a hateful stampede that should never have happened.’
‘Did he?’ Persey asked. She wondered which would be worse: his being here on the wrong side or if he had never come at all? She didn’t know which version of events she preferred.
‘I wonder why he joined the war if he doesn’t agree with it,’ Dido mused.
‘I don’t know,’ Persey replied. ‘Why do any of us do anything?’
Dido looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps it was the right thing to do at the time. That’s why I do things, because it seems like the right thing … then. And now, perhaps he’s filled with deep regret for being part of the war, and its progress.’
‘You do like to see the good in everyone, don’t you?’ Persey looked at her sister with nothing but love.
Dido shrugged as if she was offended by such a comment. ‘I don’t think so. But I do like to give people the benefit of the doubt. If I think they deserve it.’
‘Hmm,’ Persey half-heartedly agreed before turning back towards the window, torturously looking towards the Germans who were still admiring her father’s vehicle. She had opened the garage for them, signed where appropriate, given the ticket that confirmed she’d be reimbursed for it when hostilities ended and had walked away without a further word. She knew she’d never see that money. She hoped they’d treat it kindly even if it did mean some general somewhere running around in her father’s prideand joy. There were rumours cars were being taken to the European mainland. She hoped that was its fate and that she’d not have to see anyone driving it around the island. ‘I wish they’d just go. Awful people. Why are they still here?’
Dido moved to the window and looked out. ‘I imagine that summarises how we all feel about the Germans in general. Do I look all right?’ Dido asked. ‘Lipstick not a bit much for a funeral, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps,’ Persey said.
‘Shall I wipe it off?’
