Winter’s Children (25 page)

In the days that followed, there was no shame, only desperation and the seizing of the moment. Klaus returned to the Side Barn room despite Tom’s protests that it was too chilly. Nora made every excuse to visit him there. In the closeness of his embrace, all her scruples vanished in this primitive surge to surrender. It was only later, in the cold bed with Tom snoring by her side, that she realised what she had done was reckless and unforgivable. In the chill dawn light she knew she was betraying her family but try as she might she could not feel guilty, only sad and desperate that Klaus would soon leave and she might never see him again.

‘Go and find yer mam,’ Dad called. ‘She’ll be in the Side Barn giving Klaus his lesson.’ The snow was giving way now and the yard was clear enough for the German to go back to his own place in the camp. She didn’t like him any more and she didn’t know why. He didn’t play with her like Big Hans. He’d rather play cards with Mum and have stupid lessons, and go for walks in the woods and down the river gathering sticks. Mum was always humming and being too busy to play cards with her or read stories like she used to do. Dad was busy trying to fodder the beasts that had survived the blizzards and she had to go back to Wintergill School again.

No one was bothering with her much. She pretended to be invisible so she hid behind doors, listening in to grownups talk when she shouldn’t. She peeped and tiptoed and crept about like the funny lady who walked through the walls that Mum said was all made up.

Shirley slithered across the cobbles to the side door of the barn but it was shut. She shouted but no one was there so she decided to go in and root round Klaus’s room just to be nosy. She crawled up on her hands and knees, giggling, and when she peeped through the door, there was no one there but his bed was all rumpled and on the floor was Mum’s pretty lace handkerchief. She picked up the hanky and shoved it up her sleeve, for some reason. She just knew it was important not to leave it there by the bed. Where were they?

‘I can’t find them,’ she shouted back to her dad.

‘Out gathering kindling to dry off … It doesn’t matter, love. Happen they’ll turn up soon,’ he smiled, and carried on with his work.

It was then that Shirley decided to be Dick Barton, Special Agent on the wireless and go in search of them. Mum should be in the kitchen making their tea, not gallivanting in the wood with Mr Hitler’s soldier.

Klaus made a bed for them further down by the frozen river. The trees had thawed the ground, and with their macs they could lie undisturbed, hidden by the evergreens, making love as if for the very last time. She had never known such passion and every touch thrilled her body, every kiss brought such sensations. It was as if she were on fire, even on the coldest of days. To make love under the skies was something she and Tom had never even contemplated. It was not their way, but she had never felt for Tom what she was feeling now. It was like some potent drug that she must swallow every day or suffer such withdrawal and hunger for more.

All the weariness of war and want, blizzard and cold disappeared for those few stolen hours when they were alone. There was this desperation in their lovemaking that drowned out all guilt and shame. ‘You are he and I am she and we are one,’ she whispered in his ears.

Then Nora heard a curlew crying as it flew up the river. The birds were returning. It was almost spring and the worst of the winter would be over soon. Her heart leaped at its bubbling call. Her eyes filled with tears of relief. They had survived this terrible winter unscathed and she was in the arms of her lover, safe from the world.

‘It is time for me to go,’ said Klaus. ‘Soon they will send for me to leave.’

Nora felt such panic, and drew him back into her embrace. He mustn’t leave the farm, not when they had found each other. Nothing mattered but these stolen minutes.

‘No … no, I’m never going to let you go.’

‘Come with me … and Shirley?’ he whispered.

Nora sprang up as if splashed with ice water. ‘We can’t … Don’t say another word, Klaus.’

He pulled her back roughly into the heat of his arms. Nora lost herself in him again.

Shirley followed their soggy snow tracks down the path passing Gunnerside Foss, which led to the riverbank. She was being an Indian brave now, stalking the cowboys like they did at the Picturedrome. She had on her wellies and her winter coat and beret. She was going to find Mum and Mr Klaus and tell them off for going on a walk without her.

She slithered down the thawing track, and the water went down her boots and her knees were chapping and raw, but there was still no sight of them. But she could hear strange cries like an animal in pain, and followed the noise into the copse. It was darker and scratchy, and the branches snagged her path until she came to an opening.

Then she saw them fighting on the ground, rolling round together, making noises and kissing, and Mum’s skirt was up and Shirley screamed and they looked up and saw her but she ran away because she knew they were mating like animals when the boar went to the sow and the bull to the cow. She ran and ran down to the frozen river. They were doing something wrong and she knew, and what would she tell Dad?

It was then she thought she saw the nice white lady waving to her across the riverbank. She would know what to do. There were stepping stones if you knew where they were, and if she crossed the water, she would be safe somehow.

‘Oh, no!’ Nora screamed, seeing the child’s face, scrabbling to her feet as Klaus fastened his trousers, feeling such fear and shame: for her little daughter to see them like this. ‘No, no. No … Shirley … Come back, love. Mummy will explain … Oh, no … no!’

Leaping up in the direction of Shirley’s flight, Klaus racing ahead of her, Nora slithered through the shrubs, down the soggy slopes to the grey-white riverbank with only one thing on her mind. She must explain it was just a silly game and she was too little to understand it was just rough and tumble. Who are you fooling? Shirley had run from them … she understood.
Oh God forgive me. What have I done?

As she tore through the undergrowth down the steep bank, panting with terror and shame, she saw Shirley edging her way slowly across the frozen water and it was already cracking under her tiny weight.

‘Stop … don’t move! Oh, Klaus, do something!’ Nora screamed, seeing the danger, but Klaus was already edging onto the ice to rescue the child. Shirley froze at the sight of them.

‘Achtung!
Don’t move … stay … wait for me!’ he yelled. ‘Find a big stick,’ he ordered Nora. ‘The ice is too thin for me.’ He mimed to her frightened child with his hands how she must lie down on all fours.

‘Do what he says!’ Nora was edging closer to the ice, searching frantically for a broken branch. Everything was nailed down with the frost. ‘Spread out flat like a rag rug,’ she shouted. ‘Do what Klaus says, please!’

Shirley didn’t move, frozen with fear. Nora knew they had only seconds and she tore at a rotten field post with every ounce of her strength and wrapped her coat at the sleeves into a knot to give it more purchase. ‘Here, Klaus … Save her! Oh please God, save her! Help!’ she yelled, looking up and seeing a figure walking away, fading across the field like mist. ‘Help us!’ she screamed. There was no one there.

Klaus edged forward on his stomach, holding the stick to the child, who crouched now, wary but listening to his words. ‘Come here … Shirley … take the coat and I will pull you back …’

‘No, I can’t! I’ll fall in the water … I can’t swim,’ she protested, but Klaus stayed still, his eyes never shifting from her for a second.

‘I can swim for both of us.’

‘Do as he says, please, darling!’ Nora was shouting from the riverbank, her arms reaching out to grab Shirley’s coat.

Shirley hesitated for a second, seeing the look of panic on both their faces. One minute she was pretending to skate, waving to the white lady, and then she heard that funny crack on the ice and her legs were sinking into cold water. She was glad when she saw Klaus coming, but afraid too. He was going to take her mum away from her and Dad. They were doing lovey things like they did in the pictures – kissing – and she must tell Dad. If she told him would the man let her drown so no one would know?

She could hear Mum screaming at her. The water was freezing and her feet were numb. She had to move towards him but she was afraid. She turned to see if the white lady would help them but she’d vanished as she always did when grown-ups came in sight.

Now she couldn’t feel her feet moving and her chest was sinking down. She stretched her arm to grab Mum’s coat sleeve at the end of the post. She was going to have to trust Mr Hitler’s soldier to pull her to safety but would he let her sink to the bottom?

‘No, I can’t!’ she screamed as the ice cracked and she felt herself sinking further into the dark water as it dragged her under. She was too tired now to flail about, the ice made each effort weaker until she felt herself sinking down.

Suddenly an arm reached out, grabbing her sleeve as she floundered, her head bobbing under for a second, the ice washing over her head, but that strong arm was dragging her closer and closer. The water kept closing over her mouth in great gulpfuls, and she could hardly breathe, but the grip kept dragging her towards the bank until she felt her knees scraping on the rocks and her shins bruising, and then she was in her mum’s arms and everyone was crying and shivering and she felt very sleepy and cold.

How strange that time stood still for hours in those minutes as Nora watched her lover dragging Shirley to safety. She was just a floating lump of cloth, limp and lifeless. He tore off his coat and battle jacket right up to his holey vest, still dry enough to wrap around the shivering child. Everything they had that was dry they piled on her, then slowly carried her to safety. How they got back to the farm Nora would never know. It was an act of sheer will. Klaus carried Shirley all the way back until he collapsed into the yard and Tom took over.

No one spoke much after that. Shirley had been told never to go to the river without them. Ice was a tempting plaything but too thin in parts. It had happened before and it would happen again. Klaus was the hero of the day. Shirley was too shocked to remember much and was cocooned in bed with hot-water bottles.

‘I’ll give that girl what for … scaring us like that!’ Tom shouted, but Nora was quick to her defence.

‘You’ll do no such thing! She’s only a lass … she made a mistake. Don’t make matters worse. All’s well that ends well! Let’s leave it at that,’ Nora cried. ‘We could’ve lost her.’

‘Aye, and it’s Klaus we must thank for that. He’s a grand lad and no mistake.’

Nora was shaking with shame and fear. Tom hadn’t a clue and she felt awful at her betrayal of his trust. If only he knew what really had happened. Would Shirley spill the beans?

It was Tom who told the
Gazette,
and it was all around the district what their POW had done. People shook his hand in church and Klaus blushed. One morning his repatriation papers came through in the post.

‘You tell him the good news,’ Tom laughed as if he was doing them a great favour. ‘He deserves to go home after all he has done for us.’

Nora sat down, hardly daring to breathe. How could he be so blind and trusting? Was this the end of it all? How could she ever meet her lover again or ever touch his body? Should she confess everything, come clean to Tom? Could she bear the pain on his face? It was too easy to dump all her guilt and shame on him, and how could she tell him that her adultery had nearly cost Shirley her life?

Shirley knew. When she was undressed, Nora found the lace-edged hanky with the embroidered thistle tucked up Shirley’s sleeve, the one she had used in Klaus’s bed. For one crazy second she wanted to let the child tell Tom what she’d seen, bring it all out in the open, walk out of the farm and follow the lorry that would surely come to carry Klaus to Germany.

Then she thought of her precious child, afraid, confused, lost, and all because of her. How could she be so daft in the head? Duty before pleasure was embroidered into her heart. She had taken her pleasure and now she must pay for broken vows with sacrifice. Tom didn’t deserve such a shaming. The affair must be over, the accident had thrown cold water over this crazy passion, but how could she watch Klaus walk out of her life?

A month later Shirley lay in her bed cuddling her toys, warm and toasty with a hot-water bottle and a jug of lemon barley water to sip. Sometimes she lay listening to the noises out in the yard, the cows in the dairy, the clatter of clogs on the cobbles, the horses neighing in the stable. Lately she’d heard children laughing and running over her head in the attic. They were playing tag and she wished she could join in with them. They were thumping around and calling to each other.

The doctor said she must drink but her head was sore again and she couldn’t go to school. She felt sick and shivery and her tummy hurt, so Mum sometimes brought her down into the kitchen, making a bed between the two leather chairs. She could listen to the wireless music and talk to the dogs and the new farm boy who came to replace Mr Klaus.

She was glad he had gone. She had Mum to herself again and it was worth being sick just to make him go away from them. The doctor said she’d caught a bad chill from falling into the river and drinking in muddy water. She must rest until the fever broke.

She loved the kitchen smells, the tobacco smoke and the scent of the few weak lambs warming by the oven. It was a poor harvest after the bad snow and they’d lost most of their ewes in the drifts. Some were found floating like balloons in the river. Mum and Dad sat by the table counting all their losses, and then they’d look up and smile at her. ‘Still, we’ve not lost the most important treasure in our house …’ It made her feel important and sleepy at the same time.

For a few days the fever left her bones and she got up to play with the dogs, but now it was back again and she couldn’t read or bear the bright light. The doctor came every day to see how she was doing and said he wanted to take some blood from her arm. She tried not to cry out but he hurt her and Mum held her arm out again. ‘You must let him take it,’ she whispered. ‘So he can make you better again.’