Against the Tide (7 page)

‘Shy. What is this “shy”? I see you on the stage.' She clapped her hands together in delight. ‘You make the yoke, eh,
shy
for Shylock.' She poked me in the ribs. ‘This is clever, but you lie. Girls, they love you with your curls, your hot eyes, your smile, even with silly beard. You fill the hall with your voice, your charm. Even when you lose, and the Christian is saved, they cry for you, these girls.'

‘But, that's acting, Malita, only acting.'

‘You no shy. I think you know who you are, my Yak.'

‘That's enough, Lita, you're embarrassing him. He's eighteen, leave him some innocence.'

I felt very self-conscious as Malita moved closer and placed her hands on either side of my face. ‘Is too late. The war has begun.'

I pulled away, retreated to my uncle. ‘I'm sorry, Malita. You're wrong. Rachel is just a friend.' I shrugged. ‘And after today, I think Caroline and I are finished anyway.'

‘Just as well.' Fred sounded more serious.

‘You no listen, Yak, he is old man, no understand how it is now.'

‘Not so old that I can't recognise trouble when I see it; wilful, self-opinionated, arrogant.'

‘Yak, that is what he no like –'

‘Her father is nothing more than –'

‘Please, Uncle, she can't help her father.' I was somewhat surprised to find myself defending her but I wanted to divert Fred before the floodgates of his obsession opened wide.

‘It's bastards like him who will destroy us. Capitalists, greedy pigs, feeding fat in the trough whilst the workers starve.'

‘Uncle, you sound like a pamphleteer.'

He looked startled then smiled. ‘Do I now? I didn't know you read that sort of literature.'

‘I don't as a rule, but you sound so one-sided –'

‘I suppose you have discussions at school, do you? Weigh all the evidence, look at
both
sides, come out with a balanced view, eh?'

It wasn't quite that simple. My classmates didn't care for political discussion. ‘You've told me about what happened in the war and I think I understand –'

‘Oh, that's good, then. You think you understand what it's like in the trenches.' He was in full flow now, his sarcasm tearing at me. Like a toppling wave, I could dive under it, ride it ashore, let it swamp me or throw myself straight into it and risk a heavy bruising.

‘For God's sake, Uncle. You know damn well, I can't understand. I used the wrong word. I've listened to you. I try to understand. I'll always listen, but only if you don't bloody shout!'

He laughed. ‘Good for you. That's my Jack,
nil carborundum,
or haven't you been taught that one yet?'

‘It's my personal motto. I won't let the
bastards grind me down
. Not that I see you as –'

‘Quite, though perhaps sometimes I act as one, eh?'

Over 800 Jerseymen had not returned from the war. Three of them would have been my uncles. ‘I'm sorry. It's just that I find it difficult to understand. I've never seen a dead body, never been in a real fight.' Though my neck felt like it had. ‘How could I understand what happened to you in Belgium or Russia? I've never even seen snow.'

‘Well, I never want to see any again, I can tell you.' His eyes misted over and he swallowed with difficulty. ‘The problem with snow is that it shows up the blood, Jack. I never knew there was so much blood until they sent us to that wasteland. 200,000 of us to save the Tsar. Save him? I wanted to kill the fucking bastard!'

His eyes blazed now with an anger I didn't want to touch. His vile words echoed in the small room. Whatever had happened to him in those frozen wastes was way beyond my understanding.

We supped our tea in silence, Malita and I conscious of Fred's inner battle with his emotions.

Eventually, the resonance subsided. He turned to me. ‘How's your training with Mr Pavas going?'

‘How do you know about that? Christ, are there no secrets in this island?'

‘Don't be silly, Jack. Of course there aren't.' He stroked his nose. ‘I've still got a few though, despite my friends at the town hall. Take your Mr Pavas – you call him Miko, don't you?'

‘That's what he asked us to call him.'

‘Now, he is a very interesting man and I bet you know nothing about him, do you?'

‘Enough. He knows what he's talking about and he's improved my swimming.'

Fred laughed. ‘He could improve your mind as well. He won't have told you, but he was a lecturer in physics in Timisoara, in Romania, before the fascists expelled him from the university.'

‘Physics?' I was trying to reconcile my image of a university teacher with the picture presented by Miko but failed. He always wore the same khaki shorts, white polo shirt, blue cotton cap and brown sandals. He looked more like a beachcomber than a professor. Even when he was dressed up as a waiter in his penguin suit, with his shaven head, he looked anything but an academic.

‘Yes, he's desperate to get back to a university. He claims it's an interesting time in his special field of transmutation, whatever that means.'

‘I know he's trying to get to England but he can't get a permit. Why's that, Uncle?'

‘Why do you think? They're trying to limit the number of Jews, that's why.'

‘Even clever ones?'

‘Especially clever ones. Never mind, their loss is our gain.' He winked and I realised that he would be working on Miko to turn him into a Communist. Fred had some murky connections.

‘No, he's never mentioned physics but he has a scientific approach to training though I sometimes find his explanations hard to follow. Do you know that water is 800 times more dense than the air and that to double your swimming speed you need to increase your effort by eight times?'

‘Ah, that would be Newton's third law of action and reaction.'

‘How the –'

‘I do remember some things from my school days, obviously more than you. Do you just daydream in science lessons?'

‘Of course not. I think constructively and sometimes work out how I'm going to beat you at chess.'

‘Aha, so you are dreaming.'

‘I bet you didn't know that, though a man can outrun a horse over a short distance, he will never outswim a fish.'

‘I know you won't. It seems you have difficulty outswimming a Dutchman.'

Sometimes our conversations were a bit like our games of chess. One day I would win one. I knew Malita held the same forlorn hope. I smiled, acknowledging defeat.

He slurped his tea. ‘How's your mother?'

No query about my father then. One day I'd find out why they hated each other but not from either of them.

‘She's fine, Alan's as tall as me now, still mad on shooting things. Dying to join the army. Excuse the pun. The farm's doing well. Father's okay. We speak. Well, I listen. I think Mum misses you.' Big mouth, had to let it slip out.

He glanced at Malita. ‘I miss her too.' He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I felt the emotion he couldn't put into words. ‘Anyway, one day, we'll pop out and see them all, won't we, Lita?'

I knew there was a greater chance of snow falling in July than those two turning up on our porch.

He rattled the teapot. ‘What did you think of the destroyer then? Would you want to go to war on it? Or would you prefer your cousin's command.'

‘
Sheffield
? Oh, come on Uncle, Ed doesn't know me. He must be at least six times removed. I didn't even get an invite to look her over. Did you go?'

‘Strange thing, Jack. You know every boat going out to her was “full” when I tried – no room for undesirables on one of His Majesty's ships.'

I hadn't realised. ‘Anyway, there isn't going to be a war, Uncle. Hitler isn't a complete idiot. How can he take on two empires? How could he attack the Maginot Line?'

Fred picked up the breadbin and grabbed several cups. He plonked the bin down on one edge of the table, turned the cups upside down and placed them at roughly six-inch intervals on the surface so that they formed a line from the bin to the other edge. Finally, he filled the gap from the last teacup to the edge of the table with a tea towel.

‘
Voilà
, the Maginot Line.' He thumped the bin. ‘Swiss border – mountains.' Reaching across, he ruffled the tea towel. ‘Belgium border – no mountains.'

He inspected his model then got up and returned with a scrubbing brush. He upended it and placed it between two of the cups. ‘Ardennes Forest – impenetrable. Huh. In between, forts with interlocking fields of fire.'

He looked up at me. ‘Right, Jack, how do you defeat this?'

‘Go round it? Over the tea towel?'

He thumped the table. ‘Yes. If you can see that, why can't the French?' Before I could answer, he continued. ‘The Germans won't stay on the chessboard, you know. Anyway, Maginot's plan created employment so it satisfied the socialists. It was designed to be defensive, so it satisfied the pacifists and it gave the army somewhere to put its soldiers. As a defence against Hitler, it is as much use as a sand castle.'

He sighed. ‘I suppose you discuss this at school, read the
Evening Post
, listen to the BBC? Do you also listen to the German Radio or read their papers?'

‘Of course not.' I felt rather uncomfortable at the suggestion.

‘Yak, take no notice – he worry too much. Look.' She bent over and pulled two cardboard boxes from a cupboard. Their shape looked familiar. She opened one and pulled out a gas mask.

‘We've all got those now, Malita. Father collected ours last week. Mum even sent him back to get one for Victor.'

‘Oh, Yak, you silly.' She giggled.

It wasn't far from the truth though. I sometimes thought that Mum cared more for that bloody bull than she did for us. I picked up the mask and examined it. ‘This isn't one of ours, is it?'

‘No. Fred no want ours. He get these from France. Say they safe. He get from town hall, he think they put pin holes in and he choke.' She mimed him collapsing from a gas attack.

Fred wasn't amused and said something in Spanish, which bought a flush to her cheeks. ‘That's the one sensible thing the government's done. That and conscription.' He looked fierce. ‘It's time to prepare. Those bastards won't stop at the Channel once they've carved through the French.'

‘Oh, Uncle. Isn't that just scaremongering? Hitler isn't that daft. The French army is twice the size of his and –'

‘Twice as stupid.
Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum.'

‘If you want peace, prepare for war –
Vegetius
.'

‘So you haven't been asleep in your Latin lessons, even if you have in physics.'

‘No, Uncle. And I do read the newspapers.' I hesitated. ‘If Hitler's going anywhere – its east. It's Stalin who should
paraeparet bellum
.' That was a bit below the belt as he was always trumpeting the achievements of the Soviet Union.

He shot back. ‘What about Poland? Do you think that Danzig is safe? He's very cunning, Mr Hitler. He absorbed Austria, Czechoslovakia and the Rhineland without firing a shot. And now Mussolini has joined him in the Pact of Steel – may they both rust in hell.' He wagged his finger at me. ‘All the countries between him and Russia are fascist either openly or secretly. And what of us? What of the Great British Empire, bastion of democracy? What of Albion? Rotten at the core, that's what.'

He was on his soapbox again.

‘Our leaders are in the pockets of big business rascals like Hayden-Brown – fascists, all of them. They keep their boots on the workers' necks whilst lining their silken pockets. Mosley and his Union of Fascists – some think he's just a crank, you know, but he's well-connected. He's in with the establishment. They want to accommodate Hitler –'

‘Uncle, you're sounding like Churchill.'

‘And what's wrong with that?'

‘I thought he was class enemy number one.'

‘Of course he is, and he'll never be forgiven. But, Jack, in a time of war, my enemy's enemy is my friend.' He looked thoughtful. ‘You know, if Hitler does swallow Poland, Churchill will be back in government and Chamberlain will be finished. We have to watch out for that toff Halifax though. He's in Mosley's circle.'

‘What? The Foreign Secretary?'

‘The Foreign Appeaser more like.'

‘How do you know all this, Uncle? It's never been reported in the news.'

‘Newspapers, and who do you think runs those?' He waved my response away. ‘Let's just say I know what I know and leave it at that.'

‘Hah. That's a master's response when he doesn't know the answer.'

‘Well, I don't know the bloody answer, either. All I know is that we've appointed ourselves Poland's guardian angel. As soon as dear Adolph crosses her borders, we'll be at war and no one is going to stop the bloody house painter from that adventure. He'll crush her in months and then roll up the rest of us so that he can create his Fascist European Union. America will sit it out in splendid isolation and those of you who survive will have to learn German and how to goosestep.'

‘What about
you
, though, Uncle?'

He fiddled with the mask and looked at Malita. ‘There won't be a future for me or Lita, even if these work. Socialists, Jews, Freemasons, Gypsies, Jehovah Witnesses, the mentally ill…' he dropped the mask. ‘Everyone who isn't Aryan is for the chop, Jack. But don't take my word for it, read his bloody book. It's all in
Mein Kampf
.'

‘Leave him, he is too young.' Malita stared at Fred. ‘He does not understand.' She waved her arm around to indicate the island. ‘How could he?'

‘Too young? How old were your brothers when the Falangists asked them questions, huh? How old were the boys who fought with us at Ebro?
'