Dr. Godwin woke with a loud snort, blinking at the pair of them as he tried to recall where the blazes he was. Gertie had met Betty and Sam’s father only once or twice, but she could see how the daily agonies of a war in which his son was caught up had taken their toll. He had a weary, haggard appearance. Dr. Godwin rose from the car with some effort and turned to Hedy. “Betty gave me strict instructions to come ’round straightaway to give you the news. Samuel is in a prisoner of war camp in Poland.” He held out a chit of paper. “Daphne wrote down the address for you.”
Hedy stared at the piece of paper for a moment before throwing her arms around Dr. Godwin’s neck. He glanced at Gertie in surprise before accepting the embrace with a gentle smile.
“There, there, my dear. No need to be upset. Everything is all right.”
“Thank you,” whispered Hedy. “Thank you so much.”
“At least we know he’s safe,” said Dr. Godwin. “Now all we have to do is pray.”
“I’m going to do more than that,” said Hedy, with a determined look.
The next day, Gertie found herself standing outside the local recruitment office with Hedy at her side. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she said. “You know they could send you to the Outer Hebrides.”
Hedy gave an emphatic nod. “I want to do what Betty’s doing. I want to make a difference, to help bring an end to all this.”
Gertie longed to tell Hedy how much she’d miss her, how the house would seem empty again without her, but she could see how determined she was. She recognized that fire, that need to fight. Gertie had been experiencing it herself of late. “Come along then. Let’s get you signed up.”
They pushed open the door of the stark, bare offices and followed the signs to a room where a bored-looking man of about Gertie’s age was interviewing a young woman of about Hedy’s age.
“I can offer you the Land Army or work in a munitions factory,” he told her.
“I don’t really like animals,” said the girl. “But then I don’t really like guns either.”
The man sighed. “How about I send you to a potato farm where there are no animals?”
“Will I have to do the digging?”
The man raised his eyebrows. “A little.”
“Hmm, all right then, although I don’t want to lose a nail.”
The man wrote something on her paperwork, stamped the form, and handed it back to her. “Next.”
The girl grinned at Hedy and Gertie as she walked past. “Potatoes,” she said cheerfully.
“Splendid,” said Gertie.
“Name?” said the man.
“Hedy Fischer,” she said, handing over her papers.
The man looked startled as he spotted the swastika, as if expecting the entire German army to march out from behind it. “You’re German.”
“Yes. That’s right,” said Hedy. “I am a German Jew who escaped Nazi persecution in 1939.” Gertie’s cheeks burned with pride.
The man slid the papers back across the table. “I’m sorry. We can’t employ enemy aliens for war work. They pose too much of a risk.”
Gertie fixed the man with a scowl. “Do you have any idea what this young woman has been through?”
The man wore a blank expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules.”
Hedy touched her on the arm. “Come on, Gertie. It’s no use. Let’s go.”
As they walked back through the maze of corridors, Gertie noticed a room labeled “POW Parcel Centre.” She stopped in her tracks and stared at the sign.
“What is it?” asked Hedy.
“I’ve had an idea,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “But I need to go home and find something first.”
The letter was exactly where she thought it would be, in the burl walnut box with its secret drawer, which had so intrigued Gertie as a child, that had been left to her by her mother. It was where Gertie kept all her most precious treasures. “Here it is,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Hedy. “Jack’s last letter, sent in 1917.”
“Your brother had terrible handwriting,” said Hedy.
Gertie laughed. “He used to drive Father to distraction because he refused to practice his copperplate. Shall I read it to you?”
Hedy nodded and leaned against her, like a child listening to a story. Gertie cleared her throat.
My dearest Gertie,
I hope this finds you in good health. Thank you for your letter and parcel. I’m grateful to you for sending a copy of The Thirty-Nine Steps, as are the rest of the chaps here. It’s a dash tedious being locked up for the war, although I know I shouldn’t complain. I’ve heard about conditions in the Tommies’ camps. The guards are all right provided you toe the line. The place is fairly basic and not all that clean. We do our best to keep up spirits. We put on plays or entertain ourselves with singing, but it’s hard going, Gertie. I don’t think I’ll ever take my life as a free man for granted again. It makes a chap think about how he lived his life before. I know this will make you laugh, but I pledge to you now that I will be a better man when I get home. I know I’ve been selfish in the past, but I’m going to change, Gert. You can hold me to it. I keep thinking about that holiday in Suffolk when we were children. Do you remember? We met that farmer and he showed us his dogs and horses and pigs. Do you remember the pigs? We begged Father for weeks afterward to let us have a pet pig. Can you imagine? I often think back to that time as when I was happiest, when life was simple, when we didn’t really have a care. I find being a man so bewildering sometimes. I know that’s why I act the fool and drink too much. I’m putting up a front, pretending to be someone I’m not. Well, that will change when I get home. You’ll see, Gertie. I’ll be the man I’m supposed to be and maybe I’ll live out my days on a farm in Suffolk. You can visit me and my dogs and pigs. Gosh, I’m giving myself goose bumps at the very thought of it. I’m tired, I think. The chap in the bed next to me is up coughing half the night, and I don’t feel myself today. Probably the awful gruel they feed us in here. Don’t worry. I’ll be back bothering you and Harry as soon as this war is over. Give the old chap my best. I know I tease you about him, but he’s a good man. You’re lucky to have found each other. How are Mother and Father? Mama writes every week, but I never hear from Pa. Ashford wrote to me the other week. He’s still in the thick of it, poor chap. I miss you, Gertie. Your letters are a real tonic. I look forward to the day when we can dine at the Savoy again with Harry and Charles. My treat.
Ever your loving brother,
Jack
Hedy reached over with her handkerchief to wipe away Gertie’s tears. “I think you and Jack are exactly like me and Arno,” she said.
Gertie held her gaze for a moment. “I want us to help other POWs like I helped Jack. I want to help Sam and all the other poor chaps trying to get through this war.”
Hedy nodded. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“There’s just one small problem,” said Gertie.
“Miss Snipp?”
Gertie nodded. Hedy gave her a sage look.