The Daring Girls Of Guernsey: a Novel of World War II by Gayle Callen

Author:Gayle Callen [Callen, Gayle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

22

Catherine

Catherine stood on High Street outside the grocer’s, and told herself to go inside. The brisk March breeze carried a tang of the ocean, and her threadbare coat was doing little to protect her. She should complete her errand. But she was a coward, and nothing she did to resist the Germans changed her mind about herself.

She took a deep breath. Only her actions could prove she was a stronger person. Turning the door handle, she went inside.

The store used to have a fragrance of its own: spices, flowers, and oranges. Now, the empty shelves to the front of the room seemed to smell of dust and disuse. Near the back counter, shelves were sparsely stocked with the items one could use ration coupons for, everything from flour to candles. It must be hard to earn a living without access to items the islanders so desperately needed.

Mum’s friend, Madame Caron, bent over a ledger. Her silver hair was drawn into a chignon at the back of her neck, and she squinted through glasses as Catherine approached. Her tense smile melted with relief.

“Ah, Catherine,” she began, her voice threaded with a faint French accent, “it is good to see you. Your maman is not with you today?”

Catherine shook her head. “Not today, madame.”

Madame Caron sighed. “I have little left for the ration books, so you might have come in vain. Unless you wish to buy other goods.” Her voice had a tinge of hope.

Catherine gave her an apologetic smile. “No, madame, I came to talk to you.” She glanced over her shoulder, but they were still alone. “Do you know Mrs. Russell?”

Madame Caron frowned her confusion. “Of course, I do. She used to come here regularly before the war.”

“But now, not so much?”

The woman cocked her head. “No, not so much. I assume your maman told you that. Why does it matter?”

“Mum told me she does not queue anywhere.”

“Anywhere? I assumed she was not choosing to patronize our store.”

“Not anywhere, madame.”

“Mmm.” She frowned a moment, then looked back at her ledger.

Catherine was losing her, and she felt like a fool. She practically stammered as she said, “Do you know where she and her husband lived before moving to Guernsey?”

Madame Caron shrugged. “The south of France. I had the impression that when they were bored, they moved.”

“I imagine they wish they wouldn’t have come here.”

“Oui,” Madame Caron absently said, not looking up from her ledger.

Catherine wished she had a coin to spare for gum or lipstick. She slunk out the door and headed for home, inwardly berating herself for not finding another way to ask questions.

“Fraulein Braun!”

She briefly closed her eyes as she recognized the voice. “Sergeant Doepgen,” she said, when he caught up to her.

Though there were Germans everywhere, she still felt on display when talking to one, as if all the other pedestrians were judging her. Goodness, she judged herself.

He gave her a pleased smile. “It is a brisk day for a walk, ja?”

She nodded.

“Mind if I accompany you?”

“I’m in a hurry,” she said stiffly.

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