Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now (13 page)

Heinrich was already back at his billet and in his room after washing, then putting on a clean shirt and underpants. He was walking down the stairs to have breakfast when he spotted Izzy, in the hallway, on the telephone. Izzy looked up at him as she ended the call to her mother. He didn’t have to search her face for long to realise something was wrong. Izzy gave him a thin smile. He reciprocated, but along with the anxiety contorting her lovely face, he observed that glow she had about her, a radiance that revealed their forbidden affair. He loved her with an intensity that turned his gut every time he saw her. She was like a drug he couldn’t stop craving.

He smiled tenderly, then said, ‘You are here early.’

‘My parents know all about us,’ Izzy replied.

Heinrich took in a deep breath as Izzy walked in to her Aunt’s sitting room. Harry was still in bed, Margaret was trying to arouse him. He slept a lot since coming back from prison; seemingly so tired all the time and now becoming a little out of breath after even bending to tie his shoe-laces, so Margaret had taken to doing them up for him. He was a sorry sight to see at times.  

Heinrich closed the door. ‘How did they find out?’ he asked. ‘Did someone tell them?’

Izzy looked up at him. ‘My father saw us last night at the cottage, through a gap in the curtains. He must have come over to see me about Benjy as he’d been out all day looking for whoever did it.’

‘And did he find out?’

‘I don’t think so, but he found out about us instead,’ Izzy replied looking down. ‘He’s thrown me out.’

‘And your mother?’

‘They were arguing when I left,’ Izzy replied.

Heinrich lifted Izzy’s head with his fingers. ‘Stay here today, I’ll sort something out,’ he said. ‘And I’ll look in at the cottage; make sure it’s safe and secure.’

Izzy became worried. ‘Don’t go near the farm, please, Dad’s got a shotgun.’

Heinrich didn’t say anything at hearing of the news an inhabitant still had a fire-arm which should have been confiscated or given in. He simply kissed Izzy on the cheek, and told her again to stay with her aunt for the day.

After a quick breakfast Heinrich commandeered Steiner to drive him over to the farmhouse. Instead of sitting in the back, he sat on the front next to Steiner. Sydney heard the vehicle approach and came out of the barn to investigate, but not before picking up his shotgun, quickly snapping it together to aim it at the approaching soldiers. Heinrich walked up to him, his eyes unflinching, his gait determined. He stopped about four yards away from Sydney and stood glaring at him. Steiner also approached standing a few feet away from Heinrich, on his left flank.

‘I thought you’d come, she’s been tittle-tattling to you has she?’ Sydney said.

Heinrich stood his ground. ‘Izzy has said nothing to me about you, only that you’ve disowned her,’ Heinrich replied.

‘She deserves it, and more,’ Sydney retorted.

‘She is your daughter,’ Heinrich exclaimed.

‘I have no daughter,’ Sydney replied, and he stiffened his grip on the shot-gun as if about to fire off the double-barrel.

Heinrich, out of the corner of his eye, could see Steiner reaching for his side-arm. ‘Leave it where it is, Steiner,’ Heinrich ordered, not taking his eyes off Sydney for one second.

As Steiner put the hand-gun back into the brown leather holster attached to his tunic belt without securing it with the clip, Heinrich took four small steps closer to Sydney who was now breathing heavily. He could shoot the lieutenant, but would not have enough time to re-load the shotgun to be able to despatch the boy.

‘Don’t be so stupid,’ Heinrich said taking another three short steps forward. ‘Steiner here will drop you before I even sink to the ground.’

Sydney remained clutching the shotgun as if he was hanging onto dear life. He was wavering and Heinrich could see that look of horror he had seen on others men’s faces when about to kill a human being instead of rabbits or vermin. Heinrich took another step forward. Sydney held his breath as if about to ease off the shotgun’s load. He noticed Heinrich wore his side-arm on his right side, and that was where he was concentrating. But Heinrich suddenly grabbed hold of the shotgun with his left hand and as he shoved the barrel skywards, it discharged the shot, the recoil hitting Sydney squarely in the chest. Heinrich snatched the gun away from Sydney’s hands, immediately broke it in half to release the smoking shells that fell to the ground. He was handing Steiner the shotgun, when Hannah came running out of the farmhouse to suddenly freeze when she saw the two soldiers in the farmyard confronting Sydney.

‘Did you notice any shotgun around here, Steiner?’ Heinrich asked still looking Sydney in the eye.

‘No, Sir,’ Steiner shouted, knowing from the tone of Heinrich’s voice that was the answer he was wanting, and expecting.

‘Neither, did I,’ Heinrich replied. Then he stepped up closer to Sydney. ‘Consider yourself very lucky you are not being arrested. Just remember,’ he reminded, ‘I can make your life unbearable. I have control over the milk tallies, and any discrepancy that appears on the papers leaving the farm, and the papers that arrive at the dairy could be tampered with, leaving you in a very vulnerable position. So if I were you I’d make sure you have nothing around here that could get you arrested, like any more fire-arms or shells. Understood?’ Heinrich asked.

‘Yes, I do,’ Sydney replied through clenched teeth. ‘And when this war is over I will take great pleasure in killing you.’

‘We’ll see about that, old man,’ Heinrich said as he turned to see Hannah standing, open mouthed, observing. Heinrich stood to attention, bowed his head, and said, ‘Good day to you, Frau Marshall.’

Hannah; staggered at the fact the officer hadn’t immediately put Sydney in the back of the car and taken him down to headquarters where he would, no doubt, be questioned then punished; remained speechless. But what rankled Sydney most was being called, ‘old man’ and as his adversaries drove away he spat out a mouthful of saliva onto the soil.

Margaret fixed up the bed in the little box-room for Izzy to occupy. It was next to Heinrich’s quarters. There was no doubt in Margaret’s mind Izzy would rarely use it, but to all intents and purposes, as far as the other men billeted there were concerned, and, of course, the neighbours, Izzy was the new helping-hand who happened to be Margaret’s niece. Since Harry had returned home Margaret had kept most things from him as she thought he couldn’t cope. He never left the house, so therefore, never heard the gossip or saw things that might distress him even further. And to tell him about Izzy and her dog, Margaret thought was just too much for him to handle at present.  He was kept in ignorant bliss as to what was going on around him, and he seemed so withdrawn to never notice anything either. He was perceived to be in his own private world, a world even Margaret could not penetrate.

After the conversation with her mother that morning, Izzy, who sat holding her uncle’s hand whilst he stared into the fire-grate, still had tears in her eyes. Silence had reigned for some time, apart from the comings and goings they could both hear from the soldiers as they thumped out the front door, and their guttural chatter as they stomped up the stairs, and their deep abdominal laughter when one of them was amused.

Harry and Izzy had just sat until Harry suddenly said, ‘I know what’s going on, Izzy, with you and the Oberleutnant.’ And he turned his head to look at her.

Izzy looked down.

Harry now turned his whole body in the armchair to face her. ‘It’s surprising what you can hear even through silence,’ he said. ‘Learned that trick in prison.’

Izzy looked at him.

‘They are our enemy, Izzy, but like all peoples, there are good and there are bad in every race.’

‘Heinrich’s good,’ Izzy said coming to his defence.

‘Yes, he may well be, and I hope he is, for your sake, as you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?’ he said, revealing that, oh, so British, predilection for understatement.

‘You know about our affair?’

‘Yes, and I know someone has wrought vengeance by killing Benjy.’

‘Do you hate me, too,’ Izzy asked.

‘No, I don’t hate you. You’ve been more like a daughter to Margaret and me,’ Harry smiled. It was the first time he’d smiled since coming home. ‘You need our help and support now, something your father has never been able to give you. But that is not his fault. We are as we are; how we’ve been brought up; and your father’s as tough as old boots, like his father before him: another man who couldn’t show his feelings. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, or your mother, he just can’t show it, let alone say it,’ Harry commented.

‘You’ve shut us all out since you’ve been home,’ Izzy remarked. ‘Did something awful happen to you?’

Harry smiled again. ‘Not really. I was cold, lonely and hungry most of the time, until they put me on grave duty.’ Izzy wondered why he was still smiling. ‘Grave duty meant I was outside the confines of the prison camp digging graves. I met a French lady from the local village who would give us food when they weren’t looking. We found we’d actually met during the Great War.’

‘Is that all,’ Izzy asked still wondering why that fact should amuse him.

‘No, that is not all, but Margaret must never know.’

‘So it’s guilt that has stuck you to that chair since you’ve been back, not ill-treatment,’ Izzy remarked.

‘They were harsh, alright, and they didn’t think twice about shooting someone for disobeying orders, but I wasn’t tortured or beaten. I kept my head down to dig grave after grave.’

Izzy sighed. ‘I’ve often wished you were my father, you know,’ she said. ‘Aunt Margaret showed me the photograph of your little daughter.’

‘If you were our daughter, you wouldn’t have turned out as durable as you obviously are. You’re a feisty young woman who knows what she wants, and that’s down to your father. I would have wrapped you in cotton wool, lace dresses and silk ribbons, and no way would I have agreed to you marrying Alain’.

‘Didn’t you like him?’

‘Oh, yes, we liked him right enough, but he was a lowly schoolmaster. You were destined for some foreign prince.’

Izzy and Harry burst out laughing as they both looked at her grubby overalls.

‘Did Margaret tell you what name we gave our daughter?’ he said when they’d stopped laughing.

‘No,’ Izzy replied.

‘Annabelle,’ Harry said.

Throughout the day Izzy helped Margaret out with the household chores, and Harry finally deigned to get up from his chair to join them, which left Margaret wondering what had been said between her husband and Izzy to bring about such a drastic change, as she had heard them laughing from the kitchen. Izzy remarked it was just something silly, but whatever it was, Margaret was glad Harry had finally come out of his melancholy to become part of the family again.

Heinrich arrived back about four in the afternoon to immediately seek out Izzy. Margaret was in her galley kitchen preparing afternoon tea for Harry, Izzy and herself, so Heinrich knocked on her sitting room door. Harry answered.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, but is Izzy in here?’ Heinrich asked.

‘Yes, come in,’ Harry replied, opening the door a little wider.

Izzy was sitting on the floor in front of the fire reading a book and as she turned her head to see Heinrich enter the room she shot up from the floor. They approached each other but just stood smiling.

Harry stuck one hand in trouser pocket and said, ‘I’ll help Margaret with the tea.’

Immediately Harry was out of sight they put their arms around each other and kissed.

‘I’ve been up to the farmhouse; seen your parents,’ Heinrich informed as he took his lips away.

‘Did you arrest my father?’ Izzy asked, worried.

‘No, just left him to stew; but I did take his shotgun away.’

‘Thank you,’ Izzy said. ‘He’ll be safer without it.’

‘I’ll call up at the cottage later; make sure everything’s safe and secure,’ Heinrich smiled.

‘I have to go up there, Heinrich, all my clothes are there, I only have here what I’m standing in. I’ll take Aunt Margaret’s bike.’  

‘No, it’s too dangerous,’ he replied, letting go of her to walk towards the mantel shelf to stare into the flames. ‘I’ll take you up there,’ he said as he turned towards her, then he left the room to inform Steiner he needed him and the vehicle again.

With Steiner driving, Heinrich and Izzy set off for the cottage. Heinrich sat on the back seat with Izzy, holding her hand, not saying anything. The days following his arrival on the island he’d witnessed the big red Swastikas painted over the doors of women known to have German lovers: he’d seen windows smashed, and women sometimes openly attacked in the street. The culprits, when caught, were given a few weeks in the local prison, but it didn’t stop the persecution of such women, or those who took it upon themselves to become judge and jury in such matters of collaboration. In fact anyone found collaborating in any way, would discover a reckoning so harsh they would seek retribution by informing, whereupon reprisal would be even harsher.

As they approached the cottage by the single-track road, Heinrich could see the smashed front windows and the net curtaining flapping in the strong wind. The front door was also beaten in, and getting out of the car he ordered Steiner and Izzy to stay where they were. He walked down the path and as he approached the front door he could see all of Izzy’s belongings tipped out of drawers and cupboards to be left strewn and smashed about the floor. He carefully stepped over her belongings to get into the bedroom, the bed has been upturned and he wondered where Izzy had put the drawings he had made of her. He’d given all of them to her and retained only the head and shoulder sketch which he kept in his inside pocket. He looked around, but couldn’t find them, and he began to panic. One of them was a sketch of Izzy naked. What a field-day someone would have if they got their hands on that and as he walked from the cottage he closed the door behind him.

‘Where are those drawings I made of you,’ he whispered to Izzy who was still sitting on the back seat. ‘I couldn’t find them,’ he said.

‘I hid them,’ Izzy replied.

‘Where?’ Heinrich asked. ‘I’ve looked everywhere, but every cupboard, every drawer was turned out. Even the bed was up-turned.’

It had started to rain as Izzy got out of the car to view her wrecked home. Heinrich went straight into the kitchen to get the oil-lamp. Izzy began to get distraught as she saw the mess her home was in. How could someone do this? How could someone kill her dog? How could someone wreck her life? Material things she could do without, it was those personal effects that meant so much more to her, like photographs; things her parents and Alain had bought her, like a pearl necklace along with some other jewellery that was in a jewellery box. The box was still there, open on the floor of the bedroom, but the contents had gone. She picked up a few photographs that had been strewn across the floor, and as she looked at them tears sprang from her eyes. How has it come to this, she thought?

As Heinrich suddenly crouched by her side to help pick up the photographs, he breathed, ‘This is all wrong. Me, being here is wrong, being together is wrong. That’s what this is all about. They are telling us it’s all wrong.’

‘And do you believe love is wrong?’ Izzy asked, tears streaming down her face to collect on her chin.

‘Love should be right, but because of who we are, ours is wrong,’ Heinrich replied and as they both rested on their knees on the floor to face each other, he said, ‘They can punish me: they can send me away, but that will not stop me loving you,’ he said.

Izzy quickly packed a suitcase with some of her clothes and other personal belongings before reaching up inside the chimney of the unused fireplace in the bedroom to pull down the bundle of drawings wrapped in an oil-cloth. As Heinrich carried her suitcase to the car she had one last look around. She turned off the oil-lamp and shut the door behind her. It was no use locking it as the lock was hanging precariously by one screw.

Heinrich was waiting for her by the open car door. He touched her face, frowning at the same time. Steiner just sat in the driver’s seat, eyes forward.

‘That part of my life is now gone,’ Izzy said, and she stepped into the car.