Page 39 of Neighbors at War

‘Guten Morgen, Frau Bowman.’

‘Good morning,’ she replied, having no intention of using his language to acknowledge him. He seemed a kind enough man, but there was still something a little creepy about him and she was careful not to be anything other than socially polite to him.

The kitchen door opened and Cook frowned, reading the situation instantly. ‘What are you doing skulking out there, young lady?’ she snapped at Helen. ‘You have work to do.’ She acknowledged the officer. ‘Good morning.’

He nodded at her greeting, his cheeks reddening as he turned and walked away. Helen was shocked at Mrs Jeune’s tone and ran into the kitchen, hurriedly removing her outer wear before she was told off again.

‘Don’t fret none,’ Cook said in her usual tone. ‘I only said that to get rid of him.’

Helen relaxed, almost dropping the apron she was about to put on. ‘That’s a relief. Thank you for rescuing me.’

‘You can make us both a cuppa to pay me back. I’ve been here for an hour already and I’m parched. Have a look over on the table there,’ she said, pointing to a Red Cross telegram. ‘Received that yesterday, I did. It was sent a couple of months ago from my sister, so it’s taken its time getting here, but it’s better than nothing.’

Helen went over to the table and picked up the precious piece of paper with the red emblem. ‘You must be delighted to have heard from them again.’

‘I am. It’s a relief to know she and the grandkids are all fine. It’s in reply to one that I sent her.’

The older woman washed and dried her hands and sat at the table while Helen made their drinks. ‘You heard from your folks in England yet?’

Helen shook her head. She still hadn’t replied to Richard and felt guilty about it, but couldn’t think what to say. She wished she knew if her parents were safe and well. She swallowed the lump in her throat. How had their Christmas been? Had her brother been given leave to spend time with them over the festivities?

She wondered if Aunt Sylvia could have tried to send word to the family without telling her. It was something she might possibly do, but Helen would only know for certain if she asked her. She wasn’t ready to broach the subject yet, though.

‘Sorry, Helen,’ she heard Cook say. ‘I didn’t mean to say anything insensitive.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘You sure? Your face is telling me otherwise.’

Helen realised she must have been frowning. ‘I’m fine. A little tired, maybe. My aunt’s been a bit under the weather for a few days.’ When Mrs Jeune frowned, too, Helen added, ‘She insists she’s fine today and she does appear to be much better. So much so in fact that she insisted on babysitting for me.’

She decided to change the subject. She didn’t like to bother others with her troubles and certainly didn’t want to bring down Cook’s mood. She pointed to the telegram.

‘Are you going to send a reply straight away?’ she asked.

Mrs Jeune talked about her sister, and her concerns for her niece and the grandchildren. ‘I worry sometimes that I won’t live to see them again and give them hugs.’ The woman’s eyes filled with tears.

‘I’m sure you will,’ Helen said, trying to sound positive.

‘Did you see any of those leaflets the RAF dropped on the island last week?’ Dulcie asked, joining them in the kitchen.

Helen shook her head. ‘I heard about them but haven’t seen any.’

‘My dad was outside in the garden when he spotted one under the hedge. It was written in French.’

‘I’m told they all were,’ Cook said.

‘Maybe. My dad speaks French and said he thinks they were meant for the Jerries, but dropping them shows us we haven’t been completely forgotten.’

‘That’s something, I suppose.’ Curious about the leaflets, Helen asked, ‘Did your father happen to say what the message was about?’

‘He did.’ Dulcie gave the question some thought. ‘It was something like, “when our planes come over, take cover”.’

‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that,’ Mrs Jeune said, frowning.

Neither did Helen. What if she wasn’t somewhere where there was cover? And what if her aunt and Bobby weren’t able to get somewhere safe? She shuddered.

‘At least,’ Cook was saying, ‘we’ll feel a little less isolated from the rest of the world, having the RAF fly over and drop leaflets.’