Gracie's Sin (29 page)

‘Don’t step on the creaky floorboards,’ Gracie instructed in a low, hissing whisper.

‘Whyever not? For heaven’s sake, if it wakes Irma don’t we need all the help we can get? She’d soon set about any intruder with her rolling pin.’

‘If there is an intruder we mustn’t alarm him, or he might do something stupid, or very dangerous. We don’t want any trouble. Besides, I want to get a good look at him first. See who it is.’ Gracie needed to see if it was Karl. She hoped and prayed that he wasn’t the one who had escaped. She wanted him to stay safe and well, even if it was in a PoW camp, and it was entirely ridiculous for her to even care.

Heart pounding like a sledge hammer, Gracie didn’t pause to explain any of this, she lifted the sneck of the scullery door and stepped out into the yard. Lou blundered after her. Unfortunately, the candle she was holding blew out in the night breeze, and Lou at once tripped over the tin bath which lay sprawled across their path. Then as a ghostly apparition appeared before them, Lou let out an almighty scream of terror.

In response, out of the darkness came another sound, even more familiar than the clanging of the tin bath. ‘
Baaa
!’

‘It’s a bloody sheep!’

‘Oh, Lou,’ and as the two girls fell about laughing, all the lights went on in the house. Adam came bursting out of the kitchen door waving his rabbit gun, shouting, ‘who goes there?’ swiftly followed by Irma who switched all the lights off again, sounding very cross indeed as she scolded them for breaking the blackout and making an unholy din.

Gracie was quite incoherent with laughter while Lou could only say, ‘Don’t shoot. The sheep isn’t armed.’ Whereupon, she hooted with glee and rolled backwards into the upturned tin bath.

Two days later, Alf admitted that he’d simply been playing a joke upon the new girls, and no prisoner had in fact escaped from “Hush Hush Hall”. Gracie and Lou were informed that a small detail of PoWs would be made available on a few selected farms, including Adam’s. Like many of the other local farmers he was short of labour and had recently asked for help with hedge layering, as well as a crop of potatoes that needed earthing up.

‘Why can’t
you
work alongside our Adam, help him with these foreigners.’ Irma demanded of Gracie, not entirely happy about having PoWs on her land.

‘I’m not sure I’d be allowed. Alf organises our work rota.’

‘There’s no harm in asking. It would be good for Adam to have you around a bit more. Give you both a chance to get to know each other a bit better,’ Irma said, giving a conspiratorial wink.

Gracie made no comment to this but nevertheless agreed she could at least ask. Deep down, she knew her motivation was entirely different from the one Irma assumed. She’d no intention of putting anyone off the idea of allowing PoWs to work on the farm, wasn’t in the least against working with them. If only there were some way she could make sure they were the right PoWs.

In the end it was all very simple. Adam was keen on the idea and Alf had no objection to her request, agreeing without hesitation, even asked her which prisoners she’d be happiest working with. ‘Thee’s a nice li’le lass. Quiet and sensible. I don’t want you upset by any roughnecks.’

Gracie named the PoWs she’d be happy to work with, ’What about those two who helped us on the hedging before? The one with the cough, and his friend.’

‘Wasn’t the friend him what wielded that stick?’ Alf frowned.

Gracie crossed her fingers against the lie. ‘I’m not sure. Besides, I think it was someone else in the group who caused the trouble, and that trigger-happy guard. He seemed harmless enough.’

‘Aye, well, I might not have any say,’ Alf said, which they both knew to be unlikely. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

When she informed Adam that his request for PoWs had been granted, and that she would be in charge of the party, he seemed delighted. ‘That’s great. Mam said you’d sort it all out for me.’

‘Irma seems to think I’m the solution to all her problems. I’m afraid that’s not the case.’

Adam chuckled. ‘She’s an optimist.’

Gracie thought interfering old woman would be a more appropriate description, if less kind. But then felt instantly guilty for this uncharitable thought. Irma had done her best to make them welcome, and gave them good country fare to keep their strength up, war or no war. Adam interrupted her thoughts by inviting her out to another Saturday matinee. Gracie politely declined.

‘You’re not still angry with me?’

‘No, I’m not angry. I just don’t feel ready for whatever it is you want from me.’

‘I don’t want anything. I like you Gracie. That’s all. I enjoy being with you. I thought we were getting on well. Mam’s right about that. You’re exactly my sort of girl.’

‘Because she says so?’

‘No, because
I
say so. Might you feel different in a week or two, if I give you a little time to get used to the idea?’

Gracie began to worry about working in such close proximity to Adam. She felt a genuine reluctance to becoming too deeply involved with him, involved with anyone perhaps. She certainly had no wish to encourage him. She’d made a great effort to cool things between them, and he claimed to be both hurt and puzzled by her attitude.

Now he seemed eager to apologise. ‘I’m sorry if I went a bit too fast for you. Couldn’t we start again?’

‘I really don’t know. I’m not sure what I feel. I suppose I may change my mind, in time.’ She saw his face light up with pleasure and hastily attempted to dampen his enthusiasm a little. ‘But don’t bank on it. We’ll have to wait and see.’ Gracie hated the feeling that she was letting him down in some way, letting Irma down. Irma certainly thought so.

‘So what’s wrong with my lad then? Why won’t you go out with him? Is he not good enough for you?’

‘Don’t be silly, Irma.’ It shook Gracie that every detail of this friendship seemed to be closely monitored by her landlady. Why did he have to tell his mother everything? ‘You can’t just order someone to fall in love. It has to happen naturally, of its own accord.’

‘But you need to provide the right environment in which love can flourish. If you don’t go out with him, how will you ever find out what you feel? Give him a chance, at least. He’s a good lad. You and he are meant for each other. Any fool can see that.’

Gracie stifled a sigh. ‘I’ve promised to think about it. That’s all I can say.’

She found it hard to concentrate on Adam’s needs. She was far too confused by her own.

Later that day she manufactured an opportunity to call in on Madge, but it was young Matthew quietly serving behind the counter, so she bought two ounces of Dolly mixtures and left. But then, who could possibly help her to deal with Irma? Nobody.

When the detail arrived, Gracie’s heart skipped a beat. Her request had been granted, just as Alf had promised, including the prisoner who’d been incarcerated in the cellar, which seemed surprising in a way. His name, apparently, was Erich Müller. He had an arrogant, almost superior air about him, but then he was a Lieutenant, a higher rank than Karl who was an NCO. Gracie didn’t even dare to glance in his direction. Her lungs seemed to be squeezed so tight, she could barely breathe.

There was a guard with them, as expected, but not the difficult one. This one seemed more lax and easy going, perhaps because he had only two prisoners in his care. He propped himself on the stile beside the farm gate, pulled out a newspaper and settled for a spell of quiet reading, glancing up only occasionally to check that all was proper and above board.

While Adam demonstrated the task of how to cut part way through the long woody stems and weave them in to form a layered hedge, Karl’s gaze kept sliding over in Gracie’s direction. She tried to pretend that she hadn’t noticed but, despite all her efforts to ignore him, she was acutely aware of his every movement. She greatly longed to just gaze and gaze at him. She felt the need to absorb every detail of his face, to examine the way his blonde hair sprang back from a broad, strong forehead. A film of fair whiskers grew across his upper lip. The mouth itself, full and sensual, curled upwards slightly at the corners. A strong, square chin. Wide flared nostrils. And most bewitching of all, those pale blue eyes which, when they weren’t seeming to look into the depths of her soul were fixed on some far distant place, as if searching for something. Freedom perhaps.

Gracie found herself edging closer so that she was standing no more than a few feet away from him, as close as she dare without alerting the guard,.

Dear God, what was happening to her? This man was one of the enemy. When he’d been at sea, lurking in the cold depths in his U-boat, he may well have fired at British ships, killed British sailors. Hadn’t she read in the newspaper only the other day how the U-boats were maintaining a crippling attack on the Allied ships. He could easily have bombed Gordon’s ship, for Christ’s sake. What was she even thinking of gazing at the enemy in this moonstruck way? Gracie knew she should be ashamed of herself, yet all she felt was a breathless excitement: a rapid beat of her heart as the blood seemed to pump around her body at a record rate.

Somehow she knew, by the desperate appeal in that unflinching gaze, that he was as overwhelmed by emotion and circumstance, as was she. In another time, another place, he would have walked over and spoken to her, perhaps asked her out. She would have smiled, willingly accepted and they would have become instant friends. She knew all of this with a certainty that shocked her. Just as she knew that they would, without doubt, have become lovers. Did this mean that her father was correct? That she was impure, that she did have sin imprinted in her soul?

The morning wore on and, as they worked, the two PoWs were kept well apart from herself and Adam. Only once, as the guard ordered them to march to a quiet corner of the field to eat their lunch, did he come anywhere near her. Even then he made no attempt to speak, as this would have been against the rules. But as he passed by, he brushed against her hand. It was the merest touch, the slightest butterfly kiss of flesh against flesh and, for the briefest of seconds, her fingers curled naturally into his. When he moved on, Gracie had to steel herself not to cry out and call him back to her. Even her fingers felt bereft.

Despite the terrible odds against them, it was clear to Gracie and, she believed, to Karl, that they were destined to be together. The only question was, would the war, and his enemy status, be too great an obstacle?

The next time Karl and Erich Müller came, Gracie was ready. She’d persuaded Irma to make extra cheese and onion pasties, and wrapping three of these in napkins she took them over to the guard. He was so pleased at the prospect of good food instead of dry sandwiches, that he raised no objections when she asked if she might give the other two to the prisoners. Wafting a hand at her, as if telling her to get on with it, he sank his teeth into the rich hot pastry, soon so engrossed in savouring the tasty cheese, he paid little attention as Gracie hurried over to the two young Germans.

‘
Guten Tag, wie geht's
?
’

‘
Danke, gut
.’

Having exhausted the extent of her schoolgirl German, and feeling suddenly overcome with shyness, Gracie dissolved into an embarrassed silence. It came to her that she only had to reach out one hand to touch him, which made her cheeks redden at the thought, almost as if she had actually done so. Inwardly scolding herself for her inadequacy, she gave an apologetic smile and quickly reverted to English. ‘Sorry, b-but I thought you might enjoy these. My landlady made them and she is an excellent cook.’

Gracie held out the two pasties wrapped warmly in their napkins, with hands which weren’t quite steady. It was Karl who took them from her, his eyes, fringed by thick blonde lashes, never leaving hers. ‘Thank you. That is most kind of you.’

‘You speak English.’ She was stunned, and thrilled. ‘How did you learn so quickly?’

‘I learn before the war. I visit England many times, with my mother.’ His w came out all wrong, more like a v, but Gracie found his accent charming, and without stopping to think, said so. It was his turn now to fall awkwardly silent. Gracie could have kicked herself for making such a fatuous remark since she wanted him to go on talking. She wanted to soak up the sound of his voice so that she could replay it later in her head. But then she needed to know everything about him. Why had he come to England before the war? What was his mother like? Was she concerned and worried that her son was now a prisoner, or was she content that he was safely out of danger? And how did he feel about it all?

‘What is she called?’

‘Pardon?’ He frowned slightly, a crumb of pasty caught at the corner of his mouth as he smiled. He licked it away and Gracie felt her heart contract.

‘Your mother.’

‘Ah, she is Margaretha. You like?’

‘Oh yes, that’s a beautiful name.’

‘And your friend?’ She jerked a chin in Erich’s direction. ‘The incident with the stick when he nearly got shot. What was his problem?’

‘There are people in the camp who don’t like him. Now he has cooled off his hot head.’ He shrugged and grinned at her, and her insides seemed to melt.

Gracie became aware that she was staring, her gaze having been riveted to his for several long moments. So long in fact, that his companion started to chuckle. He said something in German to Karl, which Gracie didn’t understand. Nonetheless she blushed because she could guess the inference. She was making a complete fool of herself, leaving her emotions dangerously exposed as she stood transfixed before them like some lovesick schoolgirl. Spinning on her heel she began to walk quickly away, and then to run. She heard his voice call after her.