Summer 1943
Olive had lain awake all night debating what to do. Her conscience told her to stay away from Wolfgang, one of the enemy, following the orders of that evil man, Hitler. The man who’d ordered the invasion of her beloved island. Whose fellow countrymen were responsible for all the hardship and pain suffered by, not only the islanders, but the poor POWs forced to work as slaves. Let alone all the losses suffered by the Allied forces. She knew she should hate all Germans; her father might have lived if they hadn’t arrived on Guernsey and imposed rationing and reducing medical supplies. She also knew ‘Jerrybags’, the women who consorted with the Germans, were considered to be the worst type of collaborators and to be avoided. Olive had seen for herself the way other women would turn their backs on a woman seen arm-in-arm with a soldier. And, apart from anything else, Olive was a married woman. Doubly scandalous. The problem was, she knew she had fallen heavily for Wolfgang and didn’t want to stop seeing him. He was her escape from the awfulness of being married to Bill.
In the morning Olive got out of bed heavy-headed but with a flutter of anticipation in her stomach. Wolfgang was visiting the farm today for the first time and she had decided, though not without a pang of guilt, she wanted to continue their friendship. Which is all it was.
She took particular care over her appearance that fine June day. Not that anyone could look good in patched, drab grey trousers and a faded cotton blouse. But she washed her hair and brushed it until it shone and applied a tiny dab of blusher to her tanned cheeks. She didn’t dare risk a spritz of perfume to disguise the omnipresent odour of cow, not wanting Bill to become suspicious. Olive fought to stop herself smiling as she went downstairs to the kitchen, where her husband sat at the table mending a broken spade. He looked up as she entered and frowned.
‘You done something different to yourself, girl?’ he barked.
She turned away and busied herself at the sink.
‘No, except washed my hair. I’ve been eking out the shampoo for months since supplies ran low. We’ll be out of soap soon, too.’
Bill grunted.
‘This blasted war! When will it ever end? Even the Jerries know they’re losing. You can see it in their faces when they think we’re not looking. Still as arrogant as ever, though, most of the time. And now we’ve got one of them officers coming round to check on our animals. Bloody cheek! As if I can’t look after my own animals myself. Been doing it long enough. Longer than any fresh-faced, stuck up Jerry fresh out of veterinary college, anyways.’ His face reddened and Olive panicked. Dear God, don’t let him antagonise Wolfgang! She didn’t want this to be both the first and last visit to the farm.
She conjured up a smile. ‘No-one’s saying you can’t look after the animals, Bill. They just want to make sure they stay healthy and have the medicines they need if they fall sick. They’ve already been to old Tom’s farm down along and he said the officer was very polite.’
‘Huh. Well, I don’t want to spend longer than I have to in the company of one of those buggers, so you can show him round. I’ve got work to do in the top field.’
Olive sent up a silent prayer of thanks. The last thing she wanted was for Bill to hang around when Wolfgang arrived. As she washed up the breakfast dishes she remembered the kiss Wolfgang had given her when they last met. They had seen each other a couple of times since that first meeting and Olive found him fascinating to talk to and gorgeous to look at. In fact, the complete opposite to Bill. Wolfgang was courteous and listened attentively to what she said, which, she admitted, wasn’t much. There being little to discuss which wasn’t fraught with difficulties. They couldn’t mention the war. Nor her husband. Nor the desperate food shortage. The only safe topics of conversation were the weather, Guernsey as a place to live, and what Wolfgang did before the war. But somehow it didn’t matter what they talked about. It was enough to be able to walk or sit together and hold hands. And then, then the kiss…Now Olive knew what it was like to feel your insides melt when being held and kissed so lovingly. She had wanted it to go on forever…
‘Olive! Are you deaf? I said there’s a jeep driving up the lane and it’ll be here any minute. Get yourself ready, will you.’ Bill’s voice grated on her ears but the thought of spending time with Wolfgang alone, here, made her heart leap.
Grabbing a cloth she dried her soapy hands and opened the door. The jeep came to a halt feet away and Wolfgang switched off the engine and walked towards her, smiling. A movement behind her made her send a warning look to Wolfgang and the smile vanished.
‘Fräu Falla I assume? Major Brecht, at your service.’ He clicked his heels together and gave a small bow.
Trying not to laugh, Olive greeted him and introduced her husband, who came and stood in front of her.
‘Herr Falla.’ Again Wolfgang clicked his heels and bowed.
Bill did not appear won over by his politeness, saying, ‘I know I can’t stop you snooping around my farm, but I don’t have to talk to you. My wife will show you round, I’m busy.’ With that, he slung the mended spade over his shoulder and marched across to the field.
Olive shrugged. ‘Sorry about Bill, but it’s probably best he doesn’t want to stay. We won’t have to pretend we don’t know each other.’
Wolfgang grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with humour.
‘That is true. I am glad. I was worried it would be awkward, but now I can see we might have some fun, yes?’
‘Well, if you can call it fun to check the udders of a dozen cows…’ She laughed as he pulled her towards him.
‘And am I allowed to examine the farmer’s wife? Just to see if she is in good health.’
‘There’s nothing I’d like better, but it’s not safe,’ she said, pulling back reluctantly. Oh, to be able to lie in his arms and make love. Or even better, to spend the whole night together! But it really was far too dangerous…