Chapter 40
chapter
St. Helier
Since a mere slit of light emitted from the shield over her carbide headlamp, Ivy had cycled home with great care.
She pulled her bicycle into the garden in the moonless night. She’d stayed late after dinner with Uncle Arthur and Aunt Opal. Any secret police watching the farm and following Ivy wouldn’t be free to follow the men to the beach.
By now, the Bertram family would be instructing Gerrit and Bernardus, and soon they’d take Charlie and the boat to the beach.
Deputy Wilfred Bertram—Ivy still couldn’t believe a States deputy was involved—had told her the party would row to sea under cover of darkness.
Later, the three-quarters moon would help them navigate east to the Cotentin Peninsula of France.
Ivy’s green coat grew thinner each year, and she shivered. If liberation didn’t come before the winter, she’d need to patch the seat again.
Her shiver became a shudder. German patrols, coastal guns, patrol boats, tides, rocks, rough seas, Charlie’s weakness and delirium—would he even respond to medication in France?
The dangers piled high, so she chipped away at the pile with faith. “‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,’” she said in the blindness of night.
After Ivy unlocked the back door and the supply room, she pushed her bicycle inside the supply room and removed her medical bag from the basket.
The light in the hallway flicked on behind her, and Fern stood silhouetted in the supply room doorway. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”
Ivy couldn’t see her sister’s face, but her tone hinted at insincerity. Regardless, she’d treat it as a friendly question. “Quite pleasant. I spent the evening with Uncle Arthur and Aunt Opal.”
“Is that so?” Fern held up a piece of paper. “You weren’t with ‘mijn geliefde’? Did I pronounce that correctly? It’s Dutch, yes?”
All the blood rushed from Ivy’s face, tingling, dizzying, pooling in her gut.
Fern leaned back against the doorjamb, and the lamp illuminated a smug smile. “I thought it curious this morning in church when you dropped a piece of paper into the pew beside Gerrit van der Zee, and he failed to return it to you.”
Ivy fumbled for a shelf for balance, and the keys in her fingers tapped the wood.
“Do you want to know why I found it curious?” Fern said. “Hmm? A few weeks before, he handed you a paper you’d dropped. So why didn’t he return today’s piece of paper?”
Words dried out in Ivy’s open mouth, but words would be of no benefit. Not when Fern knew the truth.
A chuckle from Fern. “I always knew he was smitten with you. Then I remembered that nonsense when you insisted you knew about love, and I realized you two were exchanging notes like silly schoolchildren. So I looked around.”
“My office.” The words shot from Ivy’s mouth. “My private papers.”
Fern shrugged one shoulder and glanced at Gerrit’s letter.
“‘Please know I love you dearly. When all this is over, I will come to you as soon as I’m able. Then no one and nothing will keep us apart.’ Well, he certainly won’t win awards for poetry, but you don’t provide much in the way of inspiration. ”
How many times had Ivy born the sting of such barbs? But she couldn’t bear the insult to the man she loved. “Poetry is a poor measure of love.”
“Love? You little hypocrite. Looking down on me for loving a German officer, all whilst you were in love with a Todt? They’re the bad ones.”
“Not Gerrit.”
“Of course not.” Sarcasm rippled in Fern’s voice. “Your scruples. You could never love someone who supported Germany.”
Ivy’s hand coiled around the handle of her medical bag. In case anything went wrong tonight and Gerrit had to return to his duties, she couldn’t incriminate him any more than she already had.
Fern clucked her tongue. “I remembered his friend Bernardus, the man who died trying to commit sabotage. What if Gerrit had been a fellow saboteur, then deserted Bernardus when things went awry? They turned Charlie to the other side, didn’t they?
Is that why Charlie tried to escape? Because he’s a traitor like they are? Like you are?”
Ivy’s breath came hot and fast, pulsing with the truth that there was only one traitor in the family. But some truths were best silenced.
Fern straightened up. “Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“To prove myself. Now Helmut will know I’ve been loyal all along.”
“What does that—”
“Didn’t I mention? The police are coming. I rang as soon as I saw your bicycle approach. They’re on their way to Gerrit’s quarters as well.”
Ivy’s knees buckled, and she braced herself against the shelves. Gerrit wasn’t in his quarters—but now they’d send out a search immediately rather than in the morning when Gerrit didn’t report for duty. What if the boat were delayed for some reason? He’d be captured.
Even if he escaped, Ivy would be interrogated, beaten. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk betraying the men she loved. Her aunt and uncle. Joan and Dr. Tipton and the ring. The helpers and escapees.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Fern said in a satisfied tone. “Your treachery caused me to lose the man I love, so now you’ll lose the man you love. And so much more. Just to be sure, I’ll lock you in here until the police arrive.”
Fern stepped back. The door creaked. The light diminished.
“No!” Ivy charged forward, wedged her shoulders into the doorway, swung her arms through. Her bag thumped to the floor beside her with a great rattling of glass. The keys tinkled onto the hallway floor.
“Get inside!” Fern shoved at Ivy.
“No, no, no.” Ivy gripped her sister’s upper arms, lunged forward, pivoted. Her back banged against the doorjamb. She couldn’t let herself be locked inside, couldn’t be arrested.
“You won’t get away.” Fern’s fingernails dug into Ivy’s shoulders, and she wrestled her toward captivity. “You won’t.”
“No!” With all her might, Ivy threw her sister to the side.
A scream. Fern tripped sideways over the medical bag and tumbled inside the supply room. She flung out her arms, and the bicycle toppled over, fell on her. She screeched.
No time to think.
Ivy kicked her medical bag out of the doorway and slammed the door shut.
“Ivy! You can’t do this! You can’t.” Thumps resounded inside.
Breathing hard, Ivy staggered backward. The keys glinted on the floor. Could she? Should she lock up her own sister?
With Charlie’s life at stake?
Ivy snatched the key, thrust it into the lock, and turned it. “I’m sorry, Fern.”
“It’s no use.” Fists pounded on the door from down by the floor. “The police will be here any minute. They’ll let me out. They’ll find you. Where do you think you can go?”
France.
Ivy clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d promised to stay, to care for her patients.
But if she were arrested, she couldn’t care for them, nor could she if she went into hiding. No matter what happened tonight, the practice was lost.
And if she were arrested, she’d risk the lives of dozens.
She had to escape from Jersey. And now.
Fern screamed and kicked at the door and called down curses.
A pit formed in Ivy’s stomach. No matter what happened tonight, her relationship with her sister was lost forever.
“Goodbye, Fern,” she said softly.
With her bicycle locked inside, she’d have to drive and pray the remaining drops of petrol would take her to Fauvic. She scooped up her medical bag and ran into the garden, to the garage.
Prayed she didn’t arrive at Fauvic too late to join the men.
In the distance, police sirens whined.
Prayed she wouldn’t be captured.
“Lord, please.” She unlocked the garage and slid into the car. “Please start. Please.”