My Friend the Enemy (12 page)

Kim tightened her mouth and nodded.

‘He just looks like us,' I said.

‘You're right,' she agreed. ‘No different at all.'

For a little while we stayed like that, not saying anything. Me sitting in the tyre and Kim standing beside me, holding it still.

‘Every time I look at him, it makes me think of Josh,' she said eventually.

‘Me too. About me da', I mean.'

‘Have you heard anything?' she asked. ‘Any letters?'

I shook my head. ‘You?'

‘Not for ages,' she said. ‘I hope he's all right.'

‘Me too.'

‘And I can't stop thinking about how I wish someone would look after him if anything like this happened to him and . . . well . . .' She shrugged.

‘He looks really scared, doesn't he?' I remembered how I'd pointed the gun at him, and that's when I realised I'd made a terrible mistake. All the time I'd been thinking
about how sorry I felt for the German, I had forgotten about something important.

‘Oh no,' I said, slipping out from the tyre. ‘I left it inside. The gun. I left it in there with 'im.'

‘What?' She stared at me. ‘Why did you do that?'

‘I forgot about it.'

Kim took a deep breath and let it out in a big rush. ‘Well, there's not much we can do about it now.'

‘Are we going back?'

‘Do you want to?' she asked.

I looked at the tangle of sticks and leaves that hid the German from view. ‘What if he shoots us?'

‘Do you think he will?'

I imagined the airman inside, pointing the gun, ready to kill us. A moment ago I'd been feeling sorry for him, but now . . . ‘No.' I shook the thought away. ‘Of course he won't. It probably doesn't even work anyway; it's so full of muck.'

‘So do you want to go back?'

I swallowed hard, thinking for a moment before I nodded. ‘Aye.'

‘You sure?'

‘Not really.'

I went first; it was only fair that way, because it was me who had forgotten to bring the gun with us. I held my breath and crawled in, cringing, waiting for whatever it would feel like to be shot and killed, but the German was still sitting against the tree trunk eating his carrot. The pistol was exactly where I had left it, as if he hadn't bothered with it at all. He was sitting forward now,
though, as if he'd noticed his wet patch and was trying to hide it from us.

I let out my breath and shuffled further in to sit with my legs crossed, so the pistol was just on one side and Kim was on the other.

The German looked up at me and took another bite of carrot. The vegetable snapped off in his front teeth and we could hear him crunching it. Kim and I sat as far away as possible from him, staring almost as we might stare at a curiosity at a travelling fair – or an animal in a zoo.

The German continued to chew.

‘What's your name?' I asked.

He stopped chewing.

‘Peter,' I said touching my finger to my chest. ‘Peter.' Then I pointed at Kim and said, ‘Kim.'

The German swallowed. He ran his tongue around his mouth and said ‘Peter.' He pointed at me with the half-eaten carrot, then swung it to my right and pointed it at Kim. ‘Kim.'

We nodded and he nodded.

He looked at us, his eyes sliding from me to Kim and back again. Then he sniffed hard and touched his own chest with the bitten end of the carrot. ‘Erik.'

‘Erik.' I glanced at Kim. ‘Doesn't sound foreign at all.'

‘Erik,' he said again, forcing a smile to his lips, but I could see he was in pain, even if he wasn't as afraid of us any more.

When he'd finished eating, he folded up the paper napkin and handed it back. Kim replaced it in her satchel and offered him the cigarette the soldier at the wreck had
given her. Erik took it, putting it into his mouth. He looked very grateful to have it, and waggled his hand in front of it until we realised we had no way to light it.

‘Sorry,' Kim said, holding out her hands and shrugging.

The German patted the pocket on his left knee, and unzipped it, putting his hand in and taking out a silver gas lighter that he used to light the cigarette. He took a deep suck on it and tipped back his head before letting the smoke drift out. Immediately, the small space was filled with the smell of tobacco, making us both cough.

As the German smoked, Kim unscrewed the cap of the water bottle once more and wet the cloth she'd brought. She edged closer to the German and held it towards his face.

‘I should clean your cut,' she said.

At first he flinched away, but then he nodded and allowed Kim to gently wash the dry blood from around the long gash on his face. It was crusted thick in places and when she rubbed a little too hard, Erik winced and his gaze met mine before he looked down at the bare, compacted soil, almost as if he were ashamed.

Kim wafted the smoke away as she cleaned the dirt and blood from his face, and when she sat back, we could see what Erik really looked like. Kim had been right when she said he was only a young man, perhaps even still a teenager.

She dabbed some of the Dettol onto the scratch using the cloth, then she put her fingers to the place where his sleeve was ripped and parted the material to look inside. She wrinkled her upturned nose and took a deep breath.
‘That's quite a scratch.'

‘Maybe he did it on a tree when he was comin' down.'

‘Maybe. Give me your knife,' she said.

‘Why? What you gonna do?'

‘I need to cut the rest of his sleeve.'

‘What?'

‘His arm needs to be cleaned,' she said. ‘It looks really bad.'

‘Shouldn't we get a doctor or somethin'?'

Erik was watching us closely now, trying to follow our conversation, and he stiffened at the word ‘doctor'.

‘It's all right,' Kim said. ‘I've seen people clean wounds before. Bigger wounds than this.'

Erik was looking from me to Kim and then back again, desperation coming to his eyes as he started to shake his head.

‘Where?' I put my hand in my pocket and started to take out my knife, but hesitated.

‘Where d'you think? Dad's a doctor and Mum's a nurse,' she said. ‘I've been to the hospital loads of times. I did tell you.'

‘Did you?'

‘I think so.'

‘
Nein
,' Erik finally said, taking us both by surprise. ‘No. No doc-tor. No.'

‘It's all right.' Kim sat back and held her hands out to him. ‘No doctor.' She looked at me. ‘We don't need a doctor. I can do this. I promise.'

‘But—'

‘We can't tell anyone, Peter. You know what they'll do
to him. We have to look after him ourselves. Just give me your knife; it'll be fine.'

I sighed and took out my penknife, opening the blade and passing it to her.

Erik pulled back when Kim put the steel close to his arm, but she smiled at him. ‘Don't worry,' she said. ‘It's fine.'

It was strange watching Kim cut away the sleeve and clean Erik's wounded arm. For that short time, she didn't look like a child. She looked more like a little adult because she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She didn't hesitate or panic or worry about anything she was doing. And when she had cleaned the wound, I watched as she disinfected it with the Dettol and cut the rag she had brought, making it into a good, tight bandage.

‘That's
amazin'
,' I said when she was finished. And I thought how proud her mam would have been to have seen her bandage him like that. ‘Really brilliant. You'll be a brilliant nurse, like.' I even imagined, just for a moment, that one day I might be wounded, and Kim could be
my
nurse.

Erik put his right hand to the dressing on his left arm and nodded. ‘
Danke
,' he said.

‘You're welcome.' Then she looked at me. ‘It'll do for now, but it'll need to be changed. We'll have to get proper bandages from somewhere. It could get infected otherwise.'

‘Doctor Jacobs has some,' I said, remembering how he'd taken care of me just after the plane crash. ‘I saw them in his medical bag.' And I knew, as soon as I'd said it,
what was coming next. I could already see Kim's mind at work.

‘Hmm,' she said. ‘Then we'll have to find a way to get hold of that bag.'

BROKEN BONE

W
hen I got home for lunch, there was something cooking on the range in the scullery.

‘What's that?' I asked, lifting the lid to see what was bubbling inside.

‘Stew,' Mam said. ‘Mr Bennett came round.'

‘Again?'

‘Don't pull that face; he brought this meat for us.' She came over and took the pan off the heat.

‘What kind?'

‘Meat.' She wasn't any more specific than that, and I didn't ask. Sometimes it was better to not know exactly what meat you were eating.

I washed my hands and took two bowls from the
sideboard so Mam could ladle out a small amount of the stew for each of us. It didn't look like there was much meat in it, just a few pieces. Mostly it was potatoes.

At the kitchen table, I scooped some up onto my spoon and blew on it before tasting.

‘Better than tripe?' Mam asked.

‘A bit.'

‘We're lucky Mr Bennett looks after us.'

I bit into a soft chunk of potato and felt it burn the tip of my tongue.

‘He's really very nice, pet. I wish you didn't always look so sulky when he comes here. He likes you, you know.'

I didn't say anything.

‘And it's good to have someone to help out.'

‘
I
can help,' I said.

‘You
do
help, pet. But there are some things you can't do.'

‘Like what?'

Mam sighed and shook her head. ‘Well, I s'pose he can get things for us. He has connections. He gets food and . . . and remember that bag he got you for your gas mask? A proper army one.'

It
was
a good bag, I couldn't deny that. A real soldier's gas mask bag that I thought about not using because it had been Mr Bennett's, but it was too smart to leave unused. I'd almost forgotten he'd given it to me.

‘I can get things, too.' I tried not to sound and look sulky like she'd said. ‘I can get us a rabbit.'

Mam nodded. ‘That's true. When you bring one home it's always a good one.'

I made a mental note to check my snares when I went out that afternoon. I should have checked them this morning – Dad told me I should never leave them too long – but I'd had a lot on my mind.

‘Any letters?' I asked. ‘Anything from Da'?'

Mam shook her head and reached over to pat my hand. We ate in silence for a while, then she said, ‘So what have you been doing this morning?'

‘Playin'.'

‘Not going too far, I hope.'

‘No.'

‘And what exactly do you play?'

‘Nowt really. Just . . .'

Mam gave me one of her looks. Eyebrows raised, chin down.

‘We're making a dam in the burn,' I said. It probably popped into my head because I'd thought about it earlier, when we'd been in the woods, and I told myself it was only a half-lie. I wasn't lying about where we were, just about what we were doing. And Mam knew I liked to dam the burn in the woods.

‘I thought I told you not to go into them woods.' Mam looked cross.

‘No. You said not to go in the afternoon.'

‘Did I?'

‘Aye.'

Mam looked unsure. ‘I don't like you going there. Not after what happened yesterday.' Then her brow creased. ‘And with that German prob'ly wanderin' about . . .' She looked as if she was trying to fix on something right at
the back of her mind; something that didn't want to be remembered.

Then it came to her. ‘What about your da's shed?' she said. ‘Doesn't your da' have a place where he keeps all his pheasant things?'

‘Aye.' I tried to keep my face calm. ‘What about it?' I knew what was coming next.

‘Maybe he's hidin' there. The German.'

Dad used to say swans were clever birds. He said they looked all calm and peaceful gliding on water, but if you looked underneath, you'd see feet paddling away like mad. That's how I felt right then, trying to pretend I wasn't worried.

‘Can't be,' I said. I didn't want Mam to see that underneath I was beginning to panic. Our German wasn't in the shed – but he wasn't far away. ‘No one can get in there. It's all locked up and only I know where the key is.'

‘You haven't been inside?'

‘Never,' I said. ‘It's me da's stuff.'

‘What if he's broken in, like?'

‘He couldn't have. Anyway I've been near there; the hut's fine.'

‘Still . . . I don't know about you goin' all the way out there. I don't like you bein' in the woods if—'

‘I showed Kim the tyre swing me da' made for us,' I said, changing the subject.

Mam stopped and stared. Then the corners of her mouth turned up into a gentle smile. ‘I remember when he made that,' she said. ‘Luggin' that tyre out there so you could swing on it while he was carryin' on with them
birds of his.' Mam was in the middle of lifting her spoon to her mouth, her hand hanging in the air, and she turned to look out of the window as if she was going to see Dad out there gathering his bits and pieces. It made me look, too, but there was nothing there. Just the garden.

‘Are you all right, Mam?'

She blinked and shook her head ever so slightly, then smiled. It wasn't a proper smile, though, and I thought she looked very sad. ‘Just thinkin'.'

‘He's comin' back,' I said. ‘You'll see. It'll all be over soon and he'll come straight back. I know he will.'

Mam put her hand on mine and squeezed. ‘You're a canny lad, Peter. Such a good lad.' She took her hand away and turned her head so I couldn't see her. When she spoke again, it sounded as if something had caught in her throat. ‘Simon Jenkins came round earlier. He wanted to know if you were comin' out. You used to be good pals with him.'

‘Mm.'

‘You should call on him this afternoon.'

‘I told Kim I'd play with her.'

‘You're very friendly with that lass, aren't you?'

‘She's nice.'

‘It's good for you to have new friends, but you mustn't forget about everyone else.'

The last time I'd played out with Simon Jenkins he'd said something about how we always had more than everyone else and we'd had an argument. It probably didn't mean much to him, but it did to me. It was bad enough that Trevor Ridley was always talking about my
mam and Mr Bennett, I didn't need to hear it from my friends, too.

‘She's a right little tomboy, I should imagine,' said Mam.

‘You mean Kim?'

‘Who else would I be talkin' about?'

‘Aye, I s'pose she is.'

‘She even looks like a lad with her short hair. She'd be bonny if she let it grow.'

‘She
is
bonny,' I said. ‘Anyway, that's what I like about her; she's not all girly dresses and frilly socks.'

‘Well, just you make sure you stay out of trouble. Come straight home if you see anythin'. And be careful when you're near the burn. It only takes a—'

‘—few inches of water to drown. I know, Mam. I'll be careful.'

‘Course you will, pet.'

After lunch Mam made me wash the dishes and then she gave me the ration book and sent me down to the village.

‘Got your identity card?' she said.

I patted my pocket to let her know I had it on me. I was supposed to carry it all the time, just like we were meant to carry our gas masks everywhere, but sometimes I forgot. I'd been stopped before, over on the links, just like they'd stopped Kim that morning when she ran down the hill. One of the soldiers had stepped forward with his bayonet pointed at me and told me to show him my identity card. I don't know if he thought I was a German spy or that maybe I was leading an invasion, and at first I thought he was just joking, but he was very serious.

‘Go on, then,' Mam said. ‘And then you can go out and play.'

I ran all the way to the village, because Kim had said she'd meet me on the hill at two o'clock and it was already after one.

*

When I came out of the grocer's, I could see a group of boys at the end of the road, close to the green. They were watching the Home Guard practising, and I knew who it was straight away. Trevor Ridley and his friends.

I turned and walked away, quickly heading home, but Trevor had seen me, and called out as he ran up behind me with his two friends.

‘What you got there, then?' He poked at the bag in my hands. ‘Rations?'

‘Aye.'

‘What d'you need rations for? I thought you got everythin' you need from his lordship. That's right, isn't it?' Trevor said. ‘Mr Bennett gives your mam whatever she needs.'

Beside him, Adam Thornhill snickered like an animal, raising his upper lip to show oversized teeth that made me think of horses.

I ignored them and tried to walk away, but Trevor stepped round to block my path.

‘So what you got in there you can't get from Mr Bennett, eh?' Trevor grabbed at the bag and, when I tried to pull it away, it ripped, the contents spilling onto the pavement. A small piece of meat wrapped in paper, a bottle of milk which smashed, a few sugar cubes that
burst from their wrapping and skittered onto the road.

I stood and stared at those small white cubes just lying there. I didn't care too much about the milk, but the sugar cubes meant something. They were the one luxury Mam and I shared, but now they were lying in the road. I wished, just for a second, that I had my satchel with me. I wished I could put my hand into it and pull out that German gun and point it at Trevor Ridley. It might not work, but it would give him the fright of his life, and he'd wish he hadn't made me mad. But even the thought of it felt so wrong, and I was relieved when I heard Mr Shaw shouting from across the street.

The older boys stood their ground as Mr Shaw came closer and stopped on the other side of the road.

‘What're you lads up to?' he asked.

‘Just sayin' hello to our friend,' Ridley replied.

‘Well, go and say hello to someone your own size,' Mr Shaw told him.

‘What if we don't want to?'

‘You want to watch yoursel', son, or you'll be feelin' the back of my hand.' Mr Shaw started to come over the road. ‘Now clear off.'

The boys stayed a second longer, then they made a move, walking back along the pavement as the butcher came to my side.

‘You all right, son?'

I nodded.

‘You want to hit 'im next time,' Mr Shaw said. ‘Get the first clout in. It's the only way with lads like them. Hit 'em once, canny hard, and they leave you alone. I did the same
thing when I was a lad.'

It was easy for him to say – Dad told me Mr Shaw was strong enough to lift a whole pig onto a hook without any help, so I don't suppose Trevor Ridley scared him much.

‘You sure you're all right?' Mr Shaw stooped to look into my face. He lifted a hand to scratch his nose, and I saw he had a small piece of pink mince stuck on one fingernail.

I nodded again.

‘Fine.' ‘Come on, then, let's get this lot picked up.' Mr Shaw crouched to gather up the wrapped meat, and I squatted beside him, collecting the spilt sugar cubes. One or two were broken, but most were intact. I picked up the broken ones anyway, dusted the dirt off them, and put them in the bag.

Walking along the path on my way home, I saw Kim coming towards me from the hill. The strap of her satchel was across her chest and she was carrying something in her right hand.

‘Saw you coming. Where've you been?' she asked. ‘I've been waiting.'

As she came closer, I saw she was holding a long-handled pan. It was white; black in the places where the colour had cracked and come away.

‘I was in the village.'

‘What's the matter?' she asked, seeing my mood straight away.

‘Trevor Ridley. He split the bag and spilt all me rations.'

‘You should've hit him.' Kim hefted the pan as if she
was going to swing it at someone.

‘That's what Mr Shaw said.'

She put her arm around my shoulder. ‘So, what rations did you get?'

‘Not much. Some meat and sugar, that's all.'

‘Can you take something?' she said. ‘For Erik? I've got a few things – a piece of bread and some vegetables. And this.' She lifted the pan. ‘You know, for a toilet.'

‘Won't your aunt miss it?'

‘Probably not. It was right at the back of the cupboard. Looks like it's for big stews or something, and we've never got enough of anything to need such a big pan. Wasn't easy to sneak it out, mind.'

‘Wonder why it didn't go for scrap.'

‘Maybe she's saving it for after the war.'

‘Don't think I'd want to eat anything out of it after our German's used it,' I said.

Kim pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. She put her hands to her throat as if she was choking. When I'd stopped laughing, she pointed at the bag. ‘You gonna take something, then?'