Across the harbour, a small German navy boat was making its way into port. Next to her, a car drew up and a Guernsey policeman stepped out of the driver’s side. She nodded a hello and he did the same.
‘Been crying, miss?’
‘No,’ she fibbed and then when he looked at her kindly, she forced a smile in return and nodded. ‘A little.’
‘Hard day,’ he said, casting his eyes out towards the sea where the boats had since left the view. ‘Did you see them go?’
‘I did. Did you have loved ones on board?’
‘No, my lot are Guernsey born and bred. Thank the Lord. Still a rum day though. There really will be more of them than there are of us soon if it carries on,’ he said and Persey knew he meant the Germans.
‘It must be hard for you,’ she said. What role did the police really have now? What crimes were they reporting to the Germans? Or maybe they weren’t. She assumed most of them were not working quite as hard as they once had when most of the crimes now were petty vandalism, theft and sabotage against the occupying force.
‘Could be worse,’ he said. ‘Don’t know why I wear this uniform now though. I should swap it for that of a chauffeur.’
‘It’ll return to normal, one day,’ she said.
He nodded and blew air out of his cheeks. ‘Let’s hope so. Don’t know how much more of this I can take, running officers and their Guernsey fancy pieces around town.’
‘Good luck,’ she said as he made to move off.
‘You too, miss.’
The policeman adjusted his hat, walked away towards the car and waited for his next charge.
The navy boat had docked and she watched as a German officer climbed off, head bent low under his peaked hat, carrying his bag over his shoulder. She lifted her head to look closer at the man, whose expression was hidden. As if sensing he was being watched he raised his head and looked at her before stopping. His mouth parted in surprise before he began smiling. She stopped breathing and stared back. He looked so different to the man who had left over a year ago. Haggard. Awful. She exhaled slowly but her eyes, wide, betrayed her shock. He walked towards her and the policemanopened the car door for him, after checking he was the right person to collect.
Stefan handed over his bag and walked past him, slowly, towards Persephone.
Persey stood up, unsure what to do, what to say, unsure she could even speak.
‘Oh, been waiting for him, have you?’ she heard the policeman mutter.
Stefan spoke. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked her softly, his eyes searching hers.
Her whole body felt rigid. ‘I’ve been here all day.’ She wasn’t sure if she’d said it out loud, her voice sounded small, lost.
‘How did you know I would be here?’ Stefan asked.
‘I didn’t,’ Persey said trying not to let her face move into a sudden, shocked smile – burying it all deep down. ‘You know they’ve deported hundreds of civilians to Germany today?’
‘Yes,’ he said sadly. ‘I have heard. You were here for that?’
‘Yes, I came to say goodbye. They took Mrs Grant.’
‘Oh,’ he said, wiping his hand over his tired eyes. ‘Because she is English?’
‘Only technically,’ Persey said.
Stefan and Persey looked at each other as if they didn’t know what to say.
He gestured to the car. ‘Are you … do you want …?’
Persey looked at the policeman in horror and then back to Stefan. ‘In which direction are you heading?’
‘Back to Deux Tourelles. I still have my billet there. Unless I am misinformed. It has been a year.’
‘It has,’ Persey said, looking at how much he’d changed in that time. Had she changed too? ‘And no, your room wasn’t reassigned.’
