‘I have delivered a message. Your housekeeper has it. Goodnight,’ he said and moved towards his vehicle.
The front door to Deux Tourelles was open and just inside the threshold Mrs Grant stood, holding a piece of paper.
‘Mrs Grant, what’s happened?’ Persey asked.
‘It’s a deportation order,’ Mrs Grant whispered, her hands emulating those of Persey’s only a moment before and shaking wildly. Without preamble, Persey took it from Mrs Grant’s hands.
‘Who is being deported?’ Persey demanded. ‘And why?’
‘Me,’ Mrs Grant said simply.
Was it because of the wireless? In which case, why only Mrs Grant? Why weren’t all of them being arrested and deported? Where was Jack?
Persey read, her eyes scanning quickly:
By Order of the High Authorities the following British subjects will be evacuated and transferred to Germany …
‘But … I don’t understand. Why are you taking her?’ Persey cried, looking back at the soldier as he climbed into the car.
‘I am not taking her. She is to report to the Weighbridge in St Peter Port tomorrow afternoon with only what she can carry.’
‘Why? Where is she going? You can’t do this.’
He ignored her.
‘They can’t do this,’ Persey shouted. ‘They can’t do this.’
She pulled Mrs Grant towards her, holding the shaking woman.
‘We can,’ the soldier said as he climbed into the vehicle. ‘We have.’ He slammed the door and the noise of the engine momentarily drowned out Mrs Grant’s crying.
‘Why is this happening?’ Persey pulled Mrs Grant inside the house and closed the door. They entered the sitting room and the housekeeper slumped into a settee. Persey knelt on the floor in front of her.
‘They’re deporting all those not born in the Channel Islands,’ Mrs Grant sniffed.
‘I can see the words on the deportation order, but they make no sense. Why would they do this? It’s so unnecessary. So … malicious. You’ve lived here your whole life.’
‘Yes. But I wasn’t born here. I was born on the mainland and so …’ She pointed to the order in her hand.
‘Where are you going? Did he tell you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m going to a camp in Germany.’
‘A camp?’ Persey cried in horror.
‘I don’t know what kind. That soldier said it was a good one.’
Of course he did. It was clear Mrs Grant suspected lies also and looked frightened and as if she had aged by at least a decade in the last few minutes.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ Persey soothed. ‘What about Jack?’
‘Perhaps because technically he left and never officially re-entered he’s escaped notice somehow.’
‘Where is he now?’ Persey asked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve not seen him. He didn’t come home after he finished at work today. I need to pack,’ Mrs Grant said pragmatically, standing.
‘I’ll help. I’ll wait up for him. He’ll be out past curfew. So will Dido if she doesn’t get home soon.’
