Chapter forty-two

Guernsey April 1942

E

rnest caught Leo’s look of shock just before he was bundled below deck and laughed. Even if Leo suspected him of being the informer, he’d never be able to prove it, assuming he came back alive. As he limped away from the harbour, Ernest congratulated himself on his sweet revenge against the man he considered responsible for his ill-fortune. No job for over eighteen months and then only a scrappy, horrible job in a boot factory! When he’d been as good as the manager of the premium antiques business in Guernsey. Even now, the anger ate away at him and he clenched his fists wishing he could have punched Leo’s face before he left, hopefully never to return.

Ernest stopped to allow a troop of soldiers to pass, nodding at one who he’d befriended. Fritz grinned, making a sign of drinking. Ernest smiled. They were due to meet that evening for a drink, and he looked forward to it, mainly because the German paid. He was also good company, speaking decent English, unlike many of the Jerries. Ernest didn’t have many local friends, and for some reason, he and Fritz had hit it off from the start. In fact, it was him who had, unwittingly, given Ernest the idea of betraying Leo.

Fritz got drunk one night and told him about what was happening to the Jews on Hitler’s orders. They were sent to concentration camps where most of them were killed in gas chambers, even the kids, Fritz had said, laughing. A die-hard Nazi, he agreed with Herr Hitler the Jews had to be exterminated. Ernest had listened in horrified fascination. He had nothing against Jews himself, had hardly met any in Guernsey and those he had seemed the same as everyone else. But listening to his friend reminded Ernest of a conversation he’d overheard years before, between Leo and his father, Henry.

They were in the office at the back of the shop and Ernest, a young lad not long out of school had just started work there and had been upstairs in the attic checking stock. As he came down, he heard the men talking and, being nosy, took up a position within hearing distance but out of sight.

‘I wish I’d met Mother’s family, Father. They sound so interesting. Fancy living in Paris rather than a tiny island like Guernsey.’

‘Well, I only met Adele’s parents, not her Jewish grandparents, who had died a year or two before and left Blanche, your grandmother, their fortune. Blanche had rejected Judaism and converted to Christianity when she married Jacques Fournier. Great patrons of the arts they were, which is why they had Renoir paint that picture of your mother, Adele with her brother and sister. Hang on to that, my lad, it’s a piece of family history. Not many can say Renoir painted their mother.’

‘I will, I promise.’ There was a pause. ‘You’ve never said how you met Mother. Was it here?’

Ernest heard Henry light up a cigar and take a deep draw on it.

‘No, I’d gone to Paris to look for stock. French style was all the rage and customers wanted more. I was talking to the owner of an antiques business when Adele walked in with a friend. The owner introduced us, and we ended up going to a café for a drink. We became friends, and I met her parents, the Fourniers. Lovely couple, I had no idea how wealthy they were. It was only later I learnt about Blanche’s parents having been wealthy Jews.’

‘I–’

The shop bell tinkled, and Ernest quickly retraced his steps and made as if he was just coming down when Leo came out of the office to welcome the customer.

Ernest had always prided himself on his memory, and he’d never forgotten what he heard that day, even though it hadn’t seemed important. It was just something else to squirrel away in his brain with all kinds of titbits gathered over the years. When he heard that the Germans were targeting Jews in Guernsey, he saw his chance and arranged through Fritz to meet an officer. After spilling out what he knew, he was dismissed without any reward, and he had to content himself with providing his own. If Leo were to return, Ernest planned to steal some of the smaller paintings or ornaments they had hidden in the safe place; not much, but enough to bring him a decent sum of money. If he didn’t return, but Teresa did, he planned to tell her Leo had sold him the business before he was deported and would show her a forged sale document to prove it. Whatever happened, Ernest meant to give that snooty Leo Bichard a metaphorical bloody nose. And make himself some money in the process.