The Farmer's Daughter (6 page)

He hurried away and she stood looking after him, wondering how trustworthy he really was. She carried on to her cottage to find the window still out. ‘Mr Gould, I would have expected it to be done by now,' she said.

‘It isn't a standard size, Mrs Sanderson, and the angles are anything but square. That's the trouble with these old properties, nothing's straight. And this great lump …' He indicated Otto with a nod of his head. ‘Hen't got the first idea about buildin' work, though he said he's done it afore. If he don' soon pull his socks up, I'll send him back and get another.'

Otto, who knew no English, did not understand what they were saying, but he had recognised the tone of contempt in the man's voice and decided that one day, he'd have his revenge.

Karl had abandoned chess in favour of woodwork in a hut set aside for the men to indulge their hobbies and where tools were provided which they had to hand back at the end of each session. The piece of wood he picked up had cried out to be carved. When Otto found him, that evening, it was taking shape as a dog, not unlike Laddie. Not wanting to be questioned on what he was doing, he packed it away. ‘How did you get on with the builder?' he asked as he handed in his tools.

‘I don't know. Not having the English I can't tell, can I?'

‘It might pay you to learn a little of it. There are English classes in the camp. Join one of those.'

‘I noticed you did not have a guard when I saw you today. I thought the
Fräulein
went everywhere with you.'

‘She usually does, but I think she trusts me now.'

‘Good. I asked the escape committee about clothes, but they said our uniforms are too battered for conversion. We will have
to steal some. There is nothing suitable at the builder's yard. The man does not live on the premises. You can get enough for both of us, can't you?'

‘I don't know. I've never been further in the house than the kitchen. I would need to find out where everything is and I have to do it without arousing suspicion.'

‘Are you backing out?'

‘No,' he said quickly. ‘I am being realistic. If we go before we are properly prepared, we will certainly fail.'

‘Then we must make sure we are prepared. We'll tell our employers we're not going to work on that day. We'll say there is going to be a big roll call in the camp and a search of our huts and everyone has to be present. Then we go to work on the transport as usual but we don't report to our employers. I'll meet you at the end of the lane down to your farm. Then we can change into the clothes you've got for us and strike out for London.'

He had still not ventured upstairs in the farmhouse to look for clothes. There was a row of hooks in the passage beside the kitchen on which hung raincoats and caps and where rubber boots were left. Otto would expect him to take those if he could find nothing else. He also knew there was a cashbox in a cupboard beside the kitchen range. It was never locked. But he balked at taking that. ‘That won't work. I can't take anything from the farm the night before or it will be missed and reported. I shall have to go to work as usual.'

‘That's true.'

They were quietly deciding how to overcome this, or rather Otto was while Karl listened, when the
Lagerführer
's clerk came into the room. ‘Major Schultz wants to see you,' he told Otto. ‘At once.'

Grumbling, Otto hurried away and Karl was left to muse on
his friend's plans and found himself less than enthusiastic. Was he becoming soft? Was he afraid of what might happen if they were caught? Or was it a reluctance to betray the Colemans and Jean in particular? They had done nothing to deserve that. On the other hand it was his duty to try and escape.

Otto returned, just as he was debating how to tell him that he would go with him but he would not steal from the farm. His friend was in a filthy mood. ‘They have rumbled us,' he told Karl. ‘Someone heard us talking and informed the commandant and he's been onto the
Lagerführer
.'

‘Who informed?'

‘You don't suppose the commandant would tell the major that, do you? He has spies everywhere.'

‘So what happened? Has he forbidden us to make the attempt?'

‘Not exactly. I have been told we must apply to the escape committee and take our turn along with a lot of other hare-brained schemes. We can go when we've been given permission. I was a given a reprimand and told our actions could have ruined everyone else's chances. He said he had had a hard job convincing the commandant that he knew nothing of it and would have condemned it if he had. He's in the colonel's pocket, no doubt of that.'

‘Perhaps that's for the best, if it means the colonel trusts him to maintain discipline and leaves us alone.'

‘That's all very well, but what about our plan?'

‘Postponed, Otto, not scrapped. You must learn a little patience.' He smiled suddenly. ‘Along with a little more English.'

Karl wanted to improve his English, to be completely fluent and had asked Jean to borrow books from the library for him. She brought him contemporary English novels. He also wanted to know more about farming in England. He could move about
the farm doing whatever work needed doing without constant supervision. He knew Jean trusted him. Even her father was coming round to sharing a glass of cider with him and talking about the relative merits of farming practices in England and Germany. How could he put all that behind him for the sake of a plan to escape that was doomed to fail?

‘I have to go to a meeting in Wisbech,' Jean told Karl one morning. Dressed in a skirt and jumper and not her usual dungarees, she was harnessing Misty to the trap. ‘There's a man coming down from the Ministry of Ag. and Fish to give us a lecture. While I'm gone, do you mind giving the new window in my grandmother's cottage a coat of paint? I know it's not strictly farm business …'

‘I will be happy to do it for her.' She had brushed out her hair and was looking very feminine and attractive.

‘I'll drop you off and pick you up on my way back. If it doesn't rain it might be touch dry by this evening.' She handed him a tin of paint and a brush and climbed into the trap. He joined her as she took up the reins.

‘Do you expect it to rain?' he asked.

‘Pa said it might. He is usually fairly accurate.'

Mrs Sanderson saw them arrive from her kitchen window and opened the door before they reached it. ‘Come you in,' she said, ushering them into the kitchen.

‘Karl is going to paint your new window frame.'

‘Good, but he can have a hot drink before he starts. Cocoa do?'

‘I do not want to trouble you, madam,' he said.

‘It's no trouble. Sit down. It won't take a jiffy.'

Karl and Jean sat while she busied herself making the drink and fetching out a biscuit tin. ‘Home-made oatmeal,' she said. ‘I like to keep some in a tin for the children.'

‘So that's why they are always so keen to visit you,' Jean said, laughing.

‘It might have something to do with it,' the old lady admitted. ‘Go on, Sergeant, help yourself.'

He took one from the tin and thanked her. ‘Was the window put in to your satisfaction?' he asked her.

‘Yes, but it took a lot longer than I expected. Your compatriot was very slow and the more Mr Gould chivvied him, the slower he got. He seemed to be dreaming and looking about him all the time.'

‘I expect he was glad to get away from the camp and wanted it to last as long as possible.'

‘Very likely.' She pushed a steaming mug of cocoa towards him. ‘I haven't noticed you going slow though. You keep up with Jean and she's no slouch.'

‘Slouch?' he queried.

‘Slow-working,' Jean explained.

‘No, you are certainly not that.'

As soon as they had finished their drinks, Jean left him with her grandmother. ‘I'll call in on the way back,' she told Karl.

‘I'll have some soup ready for you,' Elizabeth told her.

As soon as she had gone, Karl went outside to start on the window. Elizabeth came out to watch him. ‘I'm glad you have come to help Jean,' she said, standing with her hands thrust into
her apron pockets. ‘It was all getting too much for her. I wasn't sure it was a good idea at first, you being a German. We hear such tales …' She stopped and shrugged. ‘But you have been a blessing.'

‘I am glad to be of service.'

‘You don't mind doing it?'

‘No, it is better than being shut up in camp. It is work I am used to. At home I would be doing the same things as I do here.'

‘Jean tells me you have a fiancée.'

‘Yes.'

‘Tell me about her.'

While he worked he talked of home and Heidi and his parents and what their farm was like, answering when she interrupted with questions.

‘You are not really so very different from us, are you?' she said when he paused to stand back and look at his handiwork.

‘No, Mrs Sanderson. Hardly different at all.'

‘I hope they don't send you away somewhere else …'

‘If that happened I would have no choice,' he said, thinking of the escape plans. ‘Nor any warning.'

‘Then I shall speak to Colonel Williamson. I know him well. He will make sure you stay with us.'

‘Other men could do the same work.'

‘I don't think so, not if they are anything like that friend of yours. He was not a nice man at all.'

‘He is sad at being separated from his family, Mrs Sanderson, and he speaks no English so it is doubly difficult for him.'

‘I think he is a Nazi.'

‘I wouldn't know about that.'

‘Are you a Nazi?'

‘No. Not all Germans are, you know.'

‘I didn't think you were. Proper gentleman, you are.'

He chuckled. ‘Thank you. I don't think anyone has said that to me before.'

‘Unless I go up to the farm, I don't have many people to talk to and, though I can help Doris, I don't always want to be on their doorstep. I lost my husband six years ago, but I still miss him.'

‘I am sure you do.'

‘Do you have grandparents?'

‘My grandmother, that is my father's mother, died of influenza at the end of the last war and it affected my grandfather badly. He didn't seem able to go on without her. He died two years later. I never knew my other grandparents.'

‘That flu was terrible, so many people died. Thank goodness we all escaped, but now my son-in-law is struck down with a stroke and the burden of the farm has fallen on Doris and Jean.' She paused. He had almost finished. ‘I'm going indoors to put some soup on. Jean will be hungry when she comes back.' With that she left him.

He finished what he was doing, smiling to himself. He had told the old lady more than he had told anyone about his past life; she was easy to talk to, and, he suspected, easy to deceive. On the pretext of going back to the farm, he could explore the village. It was what Otto would expect him to do. He took the paint and brush and knocked on the door. ‘I need to clean the brush,' he said.

‘I'll find a jam jar of water. You can leave it in that for the moment. Come in. I've made enough soup for you, too.'

He thought about the dog he was carving and stepped inside.

‘I believe it is your birthday today,' Karl said, a week later, as they began the afternoon milking. ‘August the nineteenth, is that right?'

They had spent the day harvesting the potatoes, with the help
of about twenty children from the local school who had arrived in a charabanc, fresh-faced and eager. There had been a great deal of laughter and chattering, but that had gradually subsided as the day wore on. It was back-breaking work bending to pick up the potatoes the digger had turned up and they longed for their elevenses: lemonade and a bun brought to them by Doris. They had returned reluctantly to work afterwards, driven by the thought that it would soon be dinnertime. At four o'clock the charabanc had returned to take them to their various homes, each clutching a pay packet. The bags of potatoes had been taken away by lorry. The rotten and green ones had been heaped at the side of the field to make pig swill.

‘Yes, how did you know?'

‘Donald told me. Your twenty-first, I believe. It is a special one, no?'

‘Yes, key of the door and all that.' She laughed. ‘I've had the key of the door for ages, the key to everything really. It's just another birthday.'

‘But you are going to celebrate?'

‘A small party at home, as it's a Saturday. I wish you could come.'

‘And I should like to be there but you know it is not possible.'

‘I know.' She sighed. ‘I wish you were not a prisoner.'

‘I wish it too.'

‘Of course you do. You want to be free to go home to your family. And one day it will happen. When it does, I shall miss you.'

‘And I you,' he said softly.

‘When is your birthday, Karl? I don't even know how old you are.'

‘I was twenty-six on the first day of May,' he said. ‘I have been in the army for over six years.'

‘Since before the war?'

‘Yes, every German youth must serve his time and in 1938 it was my turn. Then the war came. We did not expect it to last so long.'

‘Neither did we, but we have to carry on as best we can.'

‘Yes.'

They heard the lorry arrive just as they finished milking. He washed his hands and delved into his coat pocket to offer her a small parcel. ‘I made this for your birthday.'

‘Oh, thank you. I never expected … May I open it?'

‘Of course.'

She unwrapped an exquisite carving of a dog. It was only about six inches long made from a streaky kind of wood whose grain he had used to great effect. It was so detailed she felt she could almost stroke its fur. She did stroke it, overwhelmed by the care that had gone into the making of it. ‘Oh, Karl, it's lovely. Thank you so much. It must have taken you ages to make.'

‘It was my pleasure.'

They heard the horn again, more impatiently. ‘You must go.'

He turned to leave. Impulsively she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to kiss his cheek. It was smooth and cold. ‘Thank you again. It's lovely. I shall treasure it.'

She did not go with him to the transport, but stood looking down at the little dog in her hand, wondering what had been going on inside his head while he was carving it. Was he thinking of her or was he thinking of home and Heidi? Had she become a sort of substitute for Heidi? Did his fiancée like dogs? Did she know how clever he was with his hands? She shook herself, wrapped the dog back in its paper, put it in the pocket of her jacket and went into the house.

Instead of going into the kitchen she went up to her bedroom
and put the carving beneath the underwear in her dressing table drawer. She had a feeling that her parents, and Bill particularly, would not approve of her accepting it. But she couldn't have refused it, could she? It would have hurt his feelings terribly after he had taken the trouble to make it.

Her mother was laying the table for the evening meal when she returned downstairs. ‘I've made sausage rolls and sandwiches for later,' she said. ‘I think there will be about fifteen of us.'

‘You should have left it to me.'

‘You wouldn't have had the time, love.'

‘How did you get on today?' her father asked, wheeling himself up to the table. He always wanted to know exactly what she had been doing all day. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but simply that he liked to think he was still in control.

‘Very well. We finished harvesting the potatoes. There was a good crop.'

‘Jerry worked, did he?'

‘Pa, I've told you over and over, he works very hard and he knows what he's doing. I think we are lucky to have him. Some of the POWs are not keen to work and take as long as they can over a task. Karl's not like that.'

‘No, I give you that, but he's a Jerry for all that. So watch it.'

‘Pa, he's a just a man.'

‘That's what I mean,' he said enigmatically.

‘Call the boys, Jean,' Doris said quickly. ‘They're supposed to be doing their homework, but somehow I doubt it.'

Always hungry, Donald and Terry did not need calling twice and they all sat down to eat round the kitchen table.

‘Are we invited to your do tonight, Jean?' Donald asked, shovelling potato into his mouth.

‘Of course you are, you live here, don't you?'

‘I've got you a present,' Terry said.

‘Oh, what is it?'

‘It's …'

Don dug him in the ribs. ‘You're not supposed to say until tonight. Jean hasn't opened any of her presents yet, have you, Jean?'

Her hesitation lasted only a second. ‘I'm saving that pleasure for this evening. By the way, have you managed to collect a few decent records?'

‘Mr Harris said he'll bring some.'

‘Good. After tea, I want you to help me roll the carpet back in the sitting room.'

Jean, who seemed to spend most of her waking hours in dungarees or trousers, changed into a flowered frock and cardigan for the evening, brushed out her hair and made up her face. It was quite a transformation and for a fleeting moment she wondered what Karl would have thought if he could see her. She took the dog from her drawer and stroked it, then hastened to put it back and go downstairs. It was foolish of her to be so sentimental over it.

The guests began arriving at seven o'clock, led by her grandmother who gave her a tablecloth. It was made of crisp white linen and drawn-thread-work in the same colour. ‘I've had it years and years,' she said. ‘Now you have it. Put it in your bottom drawer.'

Jean didn't have a bottom drawer, but she thanked her and promised to take great care of it as an heirloom. Gran went to the kitchen to help Doris. Mr and Mrs Harris came with Lily who could not be left at home alone, so she was being allowed to stay up late for the occasion. She was clutching a small package which she put into Jean's hands. It contained two handkerchiefs. ‘They cost one shilling and one coupon,' she announced.

Jean gave the child a hug. ‘Thank you so much, just what I wanted.'

‘Can I give you mine now?' Terry asked.

‘Of course you can.'

An untidy parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string was thrust into her hands. She unwrapped it and stood turning it over wondering what it was meant to be. Like Karl's gift it was made from wood, but it wasn't carved or polished. Two pieces of wood had been nailed together, one of which had had a V shape cut out of it. ‘It's to help you off with your rubber boots,' he said. ‘You stand on that bit, put your heel into that bit it and pull. I made it in school.'

‘Of course, I can see what it is now. That's going to be very useful. Thank you, Terry.' She went to kiss his cheek but he turned away in embarrassment.

Donald gave her a new bicycle pump because hers had been stolen a few weeks before and she was always borrowing his to pump up her tyres. As more people arrived, she was given more gifts: small handmade things, a needle case, a scarf, a book, even a box of chocolates. The latter were not on ration but very hard to come by and Rosemary must have scoured the shops for it.

She was beginning to wonder where Bill had got to, when he arrived dressed in a grey striped suit in honour of the occasion. ‘Sorry I'm a bit late,' he said. ‘Ma had one of her bad turns.'