A Feather on the Water(80)

“It feels like this is never going to end,” Martha mumbled. “A woman from blockhouse four was just in here. She says her little boy is anemic. Dr. Jankaukas told her to give him raw liver. We don’t even have any of the paste left—let alone fresh meat.” She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I feel like telling the men to go out and take whatever they can: steal cows, sheep, anything they can lay their hands on. But then I think about the local people, living on God-knows-what after all the food we’ve taken from them. It wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“I think things are probably even worse outside the camp,” Kitty said. “Before Christmas, Charlie told me that some of the boys at the base were trading food for sex with the local girls. They call cakes and chocolate Frau bait.”

Martha shook her head. “It all seems hopeless. And I feel absolutely useless.” It was so bleak, so dark. The lack of food, the short, bitter days, the wall of snow outside the gates. As if everything were closing in.

“You’re doing your best. You didn’t start this war. None of this is your fault.”

Martha felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the first time Kitty had ever reached out and touched her. It felt like a pinprick of light in a dark, dark tunnel.



It was not until the last day of January that the thaw finally set in. The first inkling of a change in the weather was the steady drip, drip of the blanket of snow on the roof of the cabin beginning to melt. Martha jumped out of bed and rubbed a hole in the condensation coating the window. The trees had lost their mantle of white. She could see the gravel path that had been concealed for weeks beneath compacted snow.

Then she heard the throaty rumble of an engine and caught sight of an army jeep. She threw on her clothes and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. She had to get to the warehouse before the jeep, so she could get Kitty out of Charlie’s room before the relief detail came banging on the door.

She took the shortcut through the trees, splashing her trousers in the puddles of melted snow. With a bit of luck, the jeep would stop off at one of the kitchens to cadge some breakfast.

“Kitty!” She banged on the door of the guardroom attached to the warehouse. “Wake up! The army’s here!”

There was no response. She went to the window and rapped as hard as she could without breaking the glass. A corner of the net curtain shifted and Kitty’s startled face appeared.

“Quick!” Martha jabbed her thumb toward the kitchens. “They’ll be here any minute!”

The door opened and Martha caught sight of Charlie in nothing but boxer shorts, his hair sticking up in a black spiky halo.

“What’s happening?” He grabbed his trousers and tried to put them on, almost falling over as he missed the leg hole.

“There’s an army jeep headed this way.” Martha glanced back over her shoulder.

“What? How?” Charlie pulled on his shirt as Kitty darted past him, through the door. Her blouse was buttoned up crooked and her trouser zip was undone.

“There’s been a thaw overnight—the roads must be open.” Martha made a grab for Kitty. “Come here—you look as if you’ve wandered off of skid row!”

By the time the jeep came careening around the corner of the building, Kitty looked just about respectable.

“Good morning, Mrs. Radford, Miss Bloom. Long time no see!” It was Corporal Brody who jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“Good morning! Are we glad to see you!” Martha stepped forward, blocking the view through the open door. “Poor Sergeant Lewis must be sick of the sight of this place. We were just dropping off some clean laundry for him—he only had the one uniform when the snow cut us off.”

“Hey, Sarge!” Corporal Brody yelled. “You can come out of your hidey-hole! You’re due about three weeks’ R and R!” He shot them a sideways grin as Charlie appeared in the doorway.

“Wasn’t expecting you.” Charlie raked his hair with his hands.

Whatever Brody thought of his rumpled appearance, he kept it to himself.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Martha said. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Kitty breathed when they were far enough away to be out of earshot. “It would have been awful if you hadn’t come—we’d never have heard the last of it.”

“Let’s not dwell on that,” Martha said. “Just get yourself tidied up and come help me sort things out. There’s going to be a mountain of stuff to catch up on now that the roads are open.”

“You’re not cross?”

“Why would I be? I mean, it’s not the first time, is it?”

“You knew?”

“What was I supposed to think when I saw that your bed was empty? That you’d gotten up early for a bit of bird-watching?”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you if it was okay.”

“Listen, you’re an adult—it’s none of my business what you get up to in your free time. I just hope you and Charlie have been . . . sensible.”

Kitty clicked her tongue against her teeth. “No need to worry about that. I take it you don’t know about the ten boxes of French letters in the warehouse?”

“French letters?”