Trouble in Paradise (5 page)

“Of course I am. How could I not be happy about being here with my family instead of being shot at?”

“I guess there’s not much chance of being shot here, is there?” I asked.

“Only with a camera,” he said. “Although we certainly could do some shooting back if anybody shot at us. They just finished installing the second big eleven-incher at the dockyards.”

My father was second-in-command of the guard detail for the dockyards on the far west side of the island—not that anything was that far … it was less than twenty miles away. The British navy for this part of the Atlantic was stationed there, so it was a very important strategic position. My father had told me that sometimes more than two dozen ships were in dock—destroyers, minesweepers, corvettes, frigates and, occasionally, a cruiser or even a full-fledged battleship. Some of the ships became part of convoy duty, providing escorts to protect England-bound ships carrying freight or soldiers from the U-boats. Other ships were part of hunter-killer groups that went looking for the U-boats. That would have been so much better— chasing them instead of running from them.

“Do you think they’ll ever have to use those guns?” my mother asked.

“We can only hope not, but we’re trying to be prepared for anything.”

“Anything … what do you think could happen?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little anxious.

“I doubt there’s much chance of a full-fledged invasion.”

“That’s reassuring,” my mother said.

“But there are 138 islands that make up Bermuda.”

“That many?” Jack asked.

“And each one has so many inlets and beaches that you couldn’t count, let alone patrol or monitor, them all.”

“You think somebody could come ashore without being seen?” I asked.

“Dozens
of people could come ashore without being seen.”

“But why would they want to do that?” my mother questioned.

“Espionage and sabotage. The dockyards and the new airfield are prime locations. If I were the enemy, I’d want to know more about them. Take the dockyards. If somebody was in a position to watch ships coming and going from the dockyards, they could radio U-boats … that could be just offshore, for all we know.”

“Nothing
bad is going to happen,” my mother said firmly, in a tone that left no doubt that this conversation was over. “Now, can I get anybody anything else to eat?”

“Are there any more carrots?” my father asked.

“I think there are a few more in the pot on the stove.”

“I’ll go and—”

“No, stay here,” my mother said as she got to her feet and went to the kitchen.

“She’s right,” my father said. “There’s nothing to worry about. Well … I still worry about your mother when I’m not here. ”

“We’ll help take care of her,” Jack said.

“I know you will. You two seem so grown up. I was gone less than two years and you two have grown from boys to men.”

“I know
I
have,” Jack said and then pointed at me. “But him?”

“Well, a
young
man, at least. I’m just grateful you’re both around to keep an eye on things. You know I count on you two boys—”

“Hey, what happened to ‘young men’?” Jack said.

“Right, I meant you two young
men
—I count on you to watch out for your mother when I can’t be here.”

I caught Jack’s eye—it sounded as though we’d been given a new mission!

CHAPTER SIX

“
GOOD PRACTICE, MATES
!” Trevor said as he shook hands with Jack and then slapped me on the back.

I tried not to wince in pain. “Thanks. You too.”

We walked away from the change room, leaving our new teammates behind. I looked over at Jack. His face was covered in mud but a smile peeked through.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“A little sore, but I’m not sure how much of that is from the fight and how much is from the practice. Rugby is one rough game.”

“Yeah. I was wondering if they invited us to join the team just so they could keep on hitting us.”

Jack laughed. “That thought crossed my mind, too.”

“Do you understand much of the rules?”

“The basic ones. Louise was explaining them to me at lunch.”

“That’s only fair because, if you think about it, she’s the reason we’re on the team,” I joked.

“I think you’re right. And she’s really … different.”

“She
is
English.”

“It’s not just that. She’s been to a lot of different places and done some interesting things,” Jack said.

“Probably not
nearly
as interesting as the things you’ve done,” I said. “Not that you can tell her about any of it.”

“I think I know that,” Jack snapped. “But she’s travelled so much. She’s been all through Europe, you know, before the war.”

“Yeah, but has she been to Whitby, or Bowmanville, or—”

“I don’t think she’s even heard of those places. She was telling me about Rome and how beautiful Paris is in the spring and—”

“Sounds like she’s bragging,” I said, cutting him off.

“No, not bragging … she’s not like that.”

“I haven’t really talked to her. Maybe you should invite her to dinner.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“Why not? It’s a guarantee that Mom will like her.”

He gave me a questioning look.

“Assuming she’s not a Nazi spy, she’s already way ahead of your last girlfriend.”

I regretted those words—again—even before Jack punched me in the arm.

“It’s nice of you boys to walk me down to the train,” our father said.

“We thought we could then go and meet Mom at work and walk her home.”

Dad didn’t say anything, but he gave a little smile to let us know he approved of what we were doing.

The walk from our house toward the town was downhill. Stretched out in front of us were the town of Hamilton and the harbour beyond that. It was a beautiful scene, pastelcoloured buildings against the emerald green of the water. It was so different from Ajax or Whitby, or anywhere I’d ever lived or been or even seen in pictures. It was sort of like living in a postcard from some exotic place. We
were
living in an exotic place—on a tropical island. Who would have thought that our adventures would lead us to Bermuda?

Hamilton wasn’t very big, but our teacher had told us it was a lot bigger than before the war. Then, it had been a sleepy little town visited only by tourists who came in by ship. Now the tourists were all gone, replaced by the soldiers and sailors who had flooded onto the island. Hotels that used to be filled with tourists had either closed down or been taken over by the military, like The Princess, where my mother worked.

We followed Wesley Street toward the water. Off to our left stood the big cathedral. Its steeple, soaring over everything, was the tallest structure on the island. Or maybe the lighthouse up on Gibbs Hill was taller. We lived close enough to both to hear the cathedral bells chiming on Sunday morning and to see the sweep of the light from the top of the lighthouse when it was turned on. The lighthouse was used only when they knew a plane or ship was due to arrive. Otherwise it was dark, like the rest of the island. All the houses and businesses turned off their lights at night, or used blackout shades so light wouldn’t leak out. No sense in giving enemy ships or planes handy points of navigation. Better that they find themselves wrecked on the reefs and rocks in the waters that surrounded the island.

The lighthouse was off limits to non-military personnel, but Jack and I had talked about going to the top of the cathedral so we could see the view from up there. I was always a little nervous of heights but it would be worth it—to see a postcard view from a postcard viewpoint. Bermuda really was beautiful.

We turned onto Front Street. It was alive with activity. There were dozens and dozens of horses and carriages, slowly moving down the wide dirt roadway or tied up in front of the stores and hotels. Right down the middle of the road ran the railroad tracks that linked one end of the
island to the other. We’d only been on the train once, for a short run. I hoped someday we could go the whole way to the end, out at the dockyards, to see our father.

“There’s the train,” my father said. “We better do double time.” We started to move more quickly.

The train was slowly coming through town. As it rolled forward, it clanged its bell to move people and horses off the tracks. It was a very small train. In fact, even calling it a train was kind of generous. It was three cars long and looked more like the streetcars we’d seen in Toronto. We got to the station, and my father joined the end of the line waiting to board.

“I wonder who had the bright idea to put a train right in the middle of the road,” Jack said.

“Probably wasn’t much of a problem before they had cars,” I commented.

“Not that they have many now, but I still can’t believe that they
just
allowed cars in Bermuda.”

Almost on cue a big army truck came rolling slowly down the street, as people and horses scurried out of the way.

“People here say that’s the biggest change the war has brought,” our father said. “Even now, vehicles are only supposed to be used for military purposes.”

The big army truck lumbered past us, and we could see that the back was filled with American soldiers. The
Americans dominated the whole east side of the island, where they were building an airport. I hadn’t actually seen it but I’d heard all about it. They were using gigantic machines to dredge mud from the bay, which they dumped to make the island bigger so that it could accommodate two long runways. They were also building a bridge— well, more like a causeway—to link the airfield to the main island. Maybe one day Jack and I would go out there to see what they were doing.

“Okay, boys, I’ll see you in a week,” our father said. “Take care of things,” he added.

“Yes, sir,” Jack replied.

He shook our hands. We were too old to be hugged— especially in public.

The train glided into the station and came to a stop. People got off through the back doors of the cars as those waiting in line boarded through the front doors. There were some soldiers getting on but it was mainly local people. The train was the very best way for anybody to get from one end of the island to the other. The soldiers sometimes had the choice of a military vehicle. The locals could also walk, ride a bike or take a horse and carriage, but the train was a lot faster than any of those.

We stood and watched as Dad climbed on. We lost sight of him for an instant and then he reappeared, leaned down, looked through one of the windows and waved to
us. We waved back and the train started away, clanging its bell again to clear a path. How strange—how wonderful—to know that he wasn’t going far, and that he’d be back in seven days … and nobody was going to be trying to kill him.

“What time is it now?” Jack asked.

I looked at my watch. “Almost four-thirty.”

“Just about perfect timing,” Jack said. “Mom will be getting off work at five.”

We walked along Front Street toward the hotel. The street was full of activity. Horses and carriages jockeyed with military trucks, the occasional car and throngs of pedestrians. We stayed off to the side of the road. I kept one eye on the harbour as we walked. There were two big ships and a few smaller ones tied up to the pier, and dozens of little motor skiffs and sailboats out on the water. This was supposed to be a “safe” waterway because the narrow entrance from the ocean was blocked by a submarine net and protected by artillery battalions on both sides.

I thought more about what my father had said at dinner about the possibility of U-boats being just offshore. I knew what he was saying was true. A U-boat in the middle of the night could certainly come in undetected, so close that a few men could launch a rubber dinghy that would make its way to shore. Put those agents in civilian clothes, or an
Allied soldier’s or sailor’s uniform, and they could pretty well go anywhere they wanted.

I looked at the people around us. Any one of them could be an enemy agent. Maybe that man, or that woman pushing the stroller … was there even a baby in there? Or that sailor … he did have very blond hair and— I stopped myself. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to go down that road.

“There’s the hotel,” Jack said.

“It looks like a wedding cake to me,” I said.

“A pink wedding cake?”

“You know what I mean.”

The hotel was pink—pastel coloured, like every other building on the island—topped with the obligatory white limestone roof to capture rainwater. It was four storeys tall, very long and just about the largest building on the island.

In front of the hotel, where there probably used to be manicured lawns and flower beds, there were sentries, a guard house, barbed wire and two machine gun nests protected by sandbags. I wondered what the tourists who used to frequent this hotel would have thought of all this.

“Let’s go and sit down over there,” Jack said.

We crossed the street, again watching for vehicles. There weren’t many, but we had to be careful because they were driving on the wrong side of the road … well, wrong for us, the left-hand side, like in England. That still
confused me. We slumped to the ground, shaded by a low wall, some bushes and a tall palm tree. I looked up into the branches of the palm—no coconuts. I’d heard about people being bonked by falling coconuts. After all I’d been through, I wasn’t going to cash in my chips that way.

When I shifted, the pain in my ribs made me yelp ever so slightly.

Jack chuckled.

“Sure, like
you’re
not feeling any pain anywhere.”

“I’m not complaining,” Jack said.

“Your face must really be hurting.”

“It’s not that—”

“’Cause it’s hurting
me
just to look at it.”

“Brave words from somebody who knows his mommy is close at hand to save him,” Jack said.

“You know, you’re not
that
much stronger than me,” I said as I tried to sit taller.

“Do you really want to go down that road?” Jack asked, with a hint of menace in his voice.

“Ummm … not really. Look, people are starting to come out.”