chapter thirty-five

 

Guernsey 1941–1942

 

The first full year of the Occupation headed towards a close and no-one, except the Germans, appeared excited about Christmas. With fuel, food and other essential goods heavily rationed, there wasn’t much to celebrate. Leo had to endure the humiliation of cycling past his house now filled with loudmouthed, uncouth soldiers, completely different to those who had arrived back in July 1940. From what he could see, these were the dregs of the German army, not deemed fit to be on the front line, but sent to the backwater of the Channel Islands to be in charge of POWs brought in for labouring. When they weren’t working, they held drinking parties in the house and Leo dreaded to think what condition his once pristine home was in now.

Another Red Cross message from Teresa had cheered him, but he had hesitated about telling her about their home. In the end, he avoided the subject, not wanting her fretting. The postie knew he lived with Elsie and his mail was automatically delivered to the cottage, so Teresa didn’t need to know. Or so he told himself.

The winter weather made the journey to Town on his bike both tiring and uncomfortable, even his heavy winter coat not offering complete protection from the elements. Leo had struggled to shake off his cold, and now the damp weather had led to a chest infection and a permanent cough. Probably not helped by Bert’s insistence on smoking a pipe filled with cheap tobacco whenever he could get a supply. Wheezing, Leo left his bike in the rack and headed to the office, hoping someone had found some tea to make a pot.

‘Morning, Leo. Grim out there today, isn’t it? How are you getting on with the list of supplies needed from France?’ Clem greeted him as he warmed his hands over the paraffin stove.

‘Morning. I’ll have it finished later today, just waiting on the latest figure for yeast. As most of the last consignment was mouldy, we need to make up the deficit, or we’ll have no bread.’ He threw up his hands. ‘The old system worked so much better, with our representatives buying direct. Now, all we receive is the left-overs of the French rations. I dread to think what state the next supply will be in.’

Clem nodded.

‘I agree, I can see shortages happening sooner than we planned.’ He rubbed his own hands together over the stove, which gave off poor heat for the size of the room. ‘Have you been able to dig the vegetables from your garden?’

‘Elsie offered the soldiers a deal: we would dig up what was ready as long as we’re allowed our share. And she would look after the weeding and planting. I’m not sure she’d be up to it, so I’ll lend a hand and try and persuade old Bert to help. He needs a kick up the backside.’ Leo frowned as he remembered Bert’s pleas of ill health while poor Elsie ran around after him.

Clem made to return to his desk, but stopped, tapping his forehead.

‘I nearly forgot, there’s a chap waiting for you. Said his name’s Ernest and it’s about a job. Someone you know?’

Leo groaned.

‘Yes, he worked for me and has been pestering me for months as I’d said I would put his name forward for work. But there’s been nothing suitable as he has a bad leg.’

‘I might be able to help. We’re setting up a boot factory, and most of the work can be done sitting down. Ask him to come and see me tomorrow when I’ll have more details. It won’t be full-time, and the pay is basic but better than nothing, eh?’

Leo thanked him and went to the small waiting area where he found Ernest sitting on a bench twisting his cap in his hands, a sullen expression on his face. He passed on Clem’s message, and if he was hoping for gratitude, he was disappointed.

‘Part-time, eh? Not going to help much, is it? But I guess beggars can’t be choosers, eh, Mr Bichard?’ He threw him a surly look and limped out. Leo was left torn between guilt and exasperation and returned to his desk wishing death to all Germans for what they had brought on the Islanders.

 

In early January Leo was shocked to hear that the Feldkommandantur now wished to have a report of the financial affairs of the four registered Jews on the island. So far, they had been left to lead their lives as any other islanders, but this development worried him. Even though he had no reason to think his family history was likely to become known, he couldn’t shake off a feeling of apprehension.

On a cold, breezy day in March, his fear was proved justified when Elsie, her eyes wide with fear, knocked on his bedroom door to say there were German soldiers at the door asking for him. Initially, Leo wasn’t concerned, assuming it was to do with his house and smiled at the soldiers.

‘Herr Bichard, you come with us now. Bitte.’

Leo felt the blood drain from his face but strived to remain calm as they escorted him to the parked jeep. When he asked where he was going, the soldier shrugged. The journey into Town seemed to take forever, and Leo’s nerves were stretched to breaking point by the time they drew up at Grange Lodge, taken over by the Germans as their administrative offices. He was marched inside and motioned to wait in an anteroom, not a word said. It was thirty minutes later when a soldier came back and signalled Leo to follow him, opening the door to a spacious room holding a desk, filing cabinets and the Major who had commandeered both his house and car. Relief flooded through him. It must be something about the house.

‘Sit, Herr Bichard.’ The Major, pointed to a chair in front of the desk, his face stern.

Leo attempted a smile.

‘Is there a problem with the house, Major?’

He shook his close-cropped head and fixed steely blue eyes on him.

‘You have not been honest with us, Herr Bichard. It has come to our attention that you have Jewish blood. Why have you not registered this fact?’ He banged his fist on the table.

Leo’s mouth went dry, and he licked his lips.

‘I am not a Jew, and you must have been misinformed, Major.’

‘Is it not the case that your,’ he glanced at the notes in front of him, ‘French grandmother was Blanche Fournier whose parents were prominent Jews from Paris?’

His heart sank. How on earth had he learnt that? As far as he knew, only his father had known. It wasn’t something he ever made public.

‘You are right, Major, my grandmother was Blanche, but she renounced the Jewish faith and married a Christian, Jacques Fournier. Their daughter, Adele, married my father Henry Bichard, a Christian Guernseyman. Adele was brought up a Christian, as was I.’ He kept his voice calm, but his insides twisted into knots.

The Major waved his hand dismissively.

‘It makes no difference if the family has been Christian, the blood of Jews is passed through the female line, and in accordance with the law of the Third Reich, anyone with a Jewish grandmother is counted as a Jew.’

‘I can only say, in my defence, I was not aware of such a ruling, and I have only ever considered myself a Christian. Under British and Guernsey Law, I am no Jew.’

The Major glared at him.

‘You are now living under the Third Reich and must conform to our law. Your ignorance is no excuse, Herr Bichard, and you must now register as a Jew immediately. Your house will become our legal property.’

Leo’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘You need to sign these forms, and then you will be taken home.’

He thrust various documents across the desk, neatly typed in German.

‘Do I not have the right of appeal? The advice of an advocate?’

The Major shook his head.

‘Our decision is final. Now, sign please if you want to return home.’

Leo heard the underlying threat and obeyed, not knowing what he was signing, but wanting to get away from this repressive office.

‘Good, you are now free to go. From now, you must obey any further orders concerning the Jews. Understood?’

Leo muttered, ‘Yes,’ and stood.

The Major gave a dismissive wave and Leo left, to be met by the soldier who had brought him. With a curt nod, the soldier led the way outside to the jeep, and he took a seat in the back. Leo’s mind raced during the journey back to Elsie’s cottage. Who had betrayed him – and why?