‘And then you can live. You know where I am if you or your sister needs anything, don’t you? Anything at all. We live in strange times now. You only have to ask.’
Stefan edged past Doctor Durand, giving the doctor a polite nod and, turning to Persey, looked at her as if there was so much he wanted to say. But instead of interrupting, Stefan put on his cap and walked down the drive, turning towards the airport.
Before the doctor could say anything derogatory or otherwise about Stefan’s presence at the funeral, Persey spoke. ‘Actually,’ she started cautiously. What she was about to ask of him might bring with it a phenomenal amount of trouble for everyone involved. Was it fair to ask this of him? Was it fair even to mention it to him? He had always been kind, forthright and, as far as she could tell, he hated the Germans with as much fervour as she did. And if she didn’t risk it, what then? She didn’t know who else she could trust. It had to be worth just mentioning it, surely. ‘Actually, Doctor Durand,’ she said bravely, ‘there is something I need to ask you.’
‘You haven’t heard from Miss Weber, have you?’ Persey’s employer Edward Le Brost asked her when she’d returned to work later that week.
Persey looked up from her desk. She’d been marvelling at how much filing had been placed on her desk in her absence. Still, best to have lots to do to keep busy than far too little and so lose herself to grief.
‘Lise? No,’ she said, glancing at the wall clock which read half past nine. ‘Sorry. Perhaps she’s simply late.’
‘She wasn’t in towards the end of last week and now this week,’ Mr Le Brost said. ‘Most strange.’
Persey tried to remain calm. Perhaps she was ill, although her mind drifted to moonlight flits.
‘Odd, I think. For her,’ her employer continued.
‘Yes,’ Persey said, concerned. ‘Yes, it is. You’ve not heard from her at all?’
He shook his head.
‘Me neither, sorry,’ Persey said. ‘Perhaps I’d best go along to her lodgings after work and see if she’s unwell.’
‘Thanks. I’d intended to do the same but if you could that would be just the ticket. In the meantime, I’m rather afraid you have two people’s jobs to do here,’ he said, indicating the pile of papers.
‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’ll keep me busy.’
‘How are you?’ Mr Le Brost said, shuffling on his feet awkwardly.
‘I’m well, thank you,’ Persey said. ‘I don’t think I’m sickening for something.’
‘No, I mean, after your loss.’
‘I suppose as well as can be expected,’ she said. ‘I’m still standing at any rate.’
‘Jolly good. Keep up the good work and if you hear from Miss Weber you will inform me, won’t you? If she’s left us and not had the good grace to tell us, I shall have to replace her.’
‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ Persey said as panic for her friend filled her mind.
Walking uphill through St Peter Port after work, Persey’s heart sank as she took in the plethora of new German signposts that had been put up directing soldiers to different Wehrmacht offices and to the new Feldkommandantur department that had arrived to deal with civil affairs. Was Stefan there? she wondered. Was he still just paper-pushing and translating? She hadn’t wanted to know what he was doing but now she was intrigued. What on earth kept him going if – as Dido and Persey suspected – he wasn’t really invested in the modus operandi of the Third Reich?
Around Persey groups of newly arrived soldiers looked excitedly in the windows of shops that were ready to close for the day. Was it cruel of her to think they were working out how much they could buy and ship home, thus depriving the Islanders of precious stocks of essentials they may not see again this side of the war ending? If it ended, Persey mused. And if the Allies won. She didn’t dare admit it was a real possibility the Allies might not win.
As she turned into the botanic delights of Candie Gardens, she came face to face with a German soldier. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said instinctively.
‘It is all right,’ the man said stiffly. He was standing far too close and so she moved back, intending to step round him politely and be on her way. But then catching sight of his face, her politeexpression slipped. It was the soldier who had chased her through the woodland, the night of Jack’s doomed escape, she was sure of it.
‘Oh,’ she said. He looked closer at her and said nothing but his eyes were narrow as if trying to place her.
Persey wondered how much of a look could he reasonably have had given it was dark and she’d been running at what she’d considered a great speed that night. ‘Excuse me,’ she said.
The man looked after her as she moved on, and she stole a quick glance back just to see if his reaction had changed. It hadn’t. His eyes were narrowed and his frown deepening, still clearly struggling to place her.
As she passed through Candie Gardens, Persey ignored other soldiers, some of whom wolf-whistled at her. It didn’t do to make a remark and, also, she was alone. She’d had enough of a brush with German soldiers to last her for the month and she didn’t want any more trouble.
Soon she stood outside the door of Lise’s lodging house in Brock Road, looking at the terraced two-storey cottage, gabled windows looking down onto the road and the small, gated front garden that looked in need of a good prune. She wondered if she should knock and enquire as to her friend’s health or simply keep moving. Would it not cause more aggravation for Lise if she stood and had a chat with the landlady who, Lise had suggested, was likely to inform on her for being Jewish? What if Lise had left? What if Persey had waited too long? Persey had said she would enquire for her employer, but perhaps she should just fib – report back that Lise was sick and then think again in a couple of days if her friend didn’t emerge.
Persey fiddled with the buttons on her summer dress and just when she had made up her mind that no, this really was a terrible idea and would only lead to further trouble for Lise, the door opened and a pinched-faced woman with a severe expression stood on the doorstep and glared at her.
