Chapter 3
For three more years, Invermory kept Rachel and Oskar at arm’s length.
Then, almost overnight, the unrest began again.
A novel, The Riddle of the Sands, published two years earlier, made a sudden appearance in the village’s tiny public library.
It described Germany’s fictional invasion of Britain, and word of mouth about the gripping tale of German espionage spread like a hay fire among both the literate and illiterate villagers alike.
The book was hardly ever back on the shelf, popular read as it was, and an insidious ripple of paranoia began to percolate.
“He’s a spy, that’s what he is,” was whispered among the parishioners, in reference to Oskar.
“Aye, he keeps himsel’ tae himsel’,” another remarked. “That could be why.”
“An’ he’s had an education. He wouldnae have been a clerk in a Glasgow office if he wasnae learned.”
“Aye, he was in shippin’,” another remembered. “An’ he mentioned a German port, though I canny mind the name o’ it noo.”
“An’ he lives right on the sea,” another realised. “We should check an’ see if he’s got a boat hidden somewhere. A wee boat, that could take him oot tae a big one.”
“He’s likely helped us wi’ this and that just tae curry oor favour,” yet another added. “So we’d no suspect.”
“Keep that book oot o’ his hands,” another advised. “It could give him ideas.”
“Aye. Good plan.”
The woman running the library was apprised, and she kept the novel off the shelf whenever it came back, hiding it in a cupboard. “Is that book in?” was all she needed to hear.
“Aye,” she would reply, slipping it covertly across.
The book was duly concealed as it passed from household to household. Oskar never got wind of it, and suspicion of him continued. The couple noticed the subtle, further downward shift among the villagers, a definite withdrawing; more whispers, and more stares at Oskar.
“Kaiser Wilhelm the Second is increasing the German navy,” he told Rachel one evening as they sat by the peat fire. He had come back that day from Invermory with a newspaper, now spread wide between his hands as he read.
“You and your interest in shipping,” Rachel teased, smiling indulgently.
“In my blood, I suppose,” Oskar smiled back.
“So what does this kaiser and his navy have to do with us?” she asked, lowering her knitting with a frown. “Why is this news in a Scottish newspaper?”
He lowered the paper. “Well, the British press is always drawing comparisons,” he replied. “How many dreadnoughts we have, counting how many Germany’s building, whether Germany will catch up with us.”
“What’s a dreadnought?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s a battleship. You might know that Britain recently launched a warship actually called the Dreadnought, and now every such battleship is referred to by that term.
The original Dreadnought has revolutionised naval warfare.
She has superior weapons, and she uses steam turbines, which makes her much faster than any other battleship. ”
“Battleship?” Rachel repeated, surprised. “Why are we launching battleships?”
“Britain’s an island empire,” Oskar explained patiently.
“Her survival depends on her naval supremacy, and the protection of trade routes and imperial shipping lanes, especially to India. When I worked at McAlistair and Firth, the protection of those routes was very important for us. And lastly, battleships are needed to prevent invasion.”
“Invasion? Invasion by who?”
Oskar shrugged. “Anyone. If Britain loses her naval supremacy, she will be economically strangled. There is then risk of imperial collapse, not to mention potential invasion.”
“I see,” Rachel replied, nodding slowly.
“And it’s precisely the launch of the Dreadnought that has caused the Kaiser to accelerate Germany’s own programme,” Oskar went on. “Which Britain in turn is perceiving as a direct threat.”
She stared at him. “What are you saying?” she asked.
“Nothing, my love,” he replied, in an attempt to placate her. “Every civilised country has its own navy, and in competition with every other regarding its ship production. Furthermore, our King Edward’s son, George, is the Kaiser’s first cousin. There’s nothing to worry about.”
But Rachel was not appeased. “Family members can be at war with one another,” she stated solemnly. “As I can well testify. Can you get the paper regularly?” she asked him. “I want to keep updated.”
“Of course,” he smiled.
But Rachel’s instincts were slowly becoming realised.
Only a few years later, news of the German naval expansion, and its challenge to British supremacy at sea, began to dominate the frontpage headlines.
For an island nation dependent on naval supremacy, the atmosphere was jittery, and anti-German sentiment simmered.
Jokes about dreadnoughts were shared within Oskar’s hearing, and the villagers wondered where his sympathies lay.
In political conversations among themselves, his loyalty was questioned.
Riding on the huge success of The Riddle of the Sands, more novels featuring German spies were published, and this time, the books were not hidden.
“I don’t like it,” Rachel told Oskar one night, after reading another anti-German article in the newspaper.
“Where’s all this going? I know families in Glasgow with German tutors and governesses!
German music and culture are admired everywhere!
We’ve shipping connections and trade links with Germany, as you’ve told me!
Even the royal family has German roots!”
“It’s just newspaper rhetoric,” Oskar replied mildly. “But I agree, something is definitely coming to a head. I feel it.”
“You feel it? You never told me that! What exactly do you feel?” she demanded, a note of alarm in her voice.
“That the developing situation with Germany will worsen,” he answered.
Rachel groaned. “Then in the village, it’s going to be impossible for you!” she exclaimed.
He shrugged. “Oh, nothing I won’t be able to handle. The usual strange looks and stares of distrust. Whispers among groups as I approach. Nothing new,” he said lightly, in an attempt to downplay the gravity he felt.
“What shall we do?” Rachel asked, concern in her dark eyes. “We’ve just been through years of ostracism! We don’t need this now!”
“We wait,” Oskar replied.
“And have you targeted every time you venture into the village? You go every day for the paper now!”
“I haven’t been arrested yet,” he grinned.
“That’s not funny,” Rachel retorted, her face grave.
“Sorry darling,” he replied. “Seriously though, I want to wait and see what happens in Europe and Morocco.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll decide what to do. I certainly don’t want you to suffer because you’re with me. Your wellbeing is my first concern.”
“And yours is mine!” she fired back. “We can’t go anywhere!” she realised then. “No matter where we go in Scotland - or even England, for that matter - the sentiment will be the same among everyone!”
“If the situation with Germany deteriorates, I would prefer that we temporarily separate,” Oskar told her. “For you to go somewhere you’re not known, for you to say that you have a husband elsewhere - a Scottish man.”
“And leave you here alone? Never!” she declared.
They endured several more years of rising tensions against the Germans and Germany, only to find that Oskar had been correct – the situation came to a head.
By the time the new year dawned in nineteen hundred and fourteen, military planning across Europe had been well underway for years, and war felt plausible, although not yet inevitable.
But then, the inevitable happened. Almost overnight, the fighting began, its suddenness shocking. Anti-German riots erupted in several cities across Britain - German shops were looted, and people with German surnames rushed to anglicise them.
“You should become ‘Bower’,” Rachel suggested.
“Never,” Oskar replied.
Then, one evening in early August as they sat reading, a stone struck the exterior wall of the cottage, making them jump.
“Oskar!” Rachel cried, leaping up, alarmed.
“Oh God!” More stones followed, along with angry obscenities carried on male voices, and finally laughter, retreating into the dark. It was the final straw.
“You need to go somewhere safe,” he urged. “Next, they’ll be breaking the windows. You can’t stay here. Staying with me, there will be repercussions…”
“I’m not leaving you to face this!” Rachel cried.
He rose and stood before her, taking hold of her shoulders.
“Rachel, it’s more serious than you think,” he told her.
“I’m now what’s called an ‘enemy alien’ he continued gravely.
“German nationals living here will now have to register, and face possible travel restrictions. I could even be arrested, and interned. I don’t want you dragged into anything that happens to me! ”
“What?” she exclaimed, aghast. “I knew about the travel restrictions, but….arrested? Interned? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I didn’t want to alarm you,” he replied.
“Argh!” She threw back her head in exasperation, closing her eyes. “Then you leave!” she cried then, looking up at him again. “Before any travel restrictions come into force! Where are you safe? Germany?”
“Germany? Yes, probably,” he replied. They stared at each other as the realisation dawned on them – that his safety meant being apart, for how long, neither knew.
“Then go, please!” she begged. “Just until this madness is over! I’ll manage! It’s summer! I’ve lived for years virtually alone here before all this!”
He turned away from her and paced the room, covering the floor in just a few of his long strides.
“I’ve read that many Germans have already left,” he said, “and are still leaving, as they don’t want to register, and want to get out before the establishment of a possible internment system.
But I’m sure they don’t have British spouses, and I don’t want to be that far away from you! ” he countered.
“I want you to at least think about it!” she implored. “Don’t stay because of me! I don’t want to see you interned! Please, Oskar! It’ll be only for a little while! And go soon!”
“And you? What will you tell them, the villagers? If I go, you’ll become their focus, their target, remaining here, and that’s the last thing I want for you!”
“They’re not talking to me,” Rachel reminded him.
“And if someone asks, I’ll think of something,” she told him.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll present myself as loyal to Britain, attend the kirk, keep quiet, support any local war efforts, and behave modestly.
As a Scottish woman alone, I’m less likely to be condemned than you, even less so than if we remain here as a visible couple living in sin. ”
He nodded reluctantly, then crossed to her once more, and took her in his arms. “If I go, I want to take you with me!” he exclaimed then, pulling her close. “But in Germany, as a British woman, I’m certain that you’d fare much worse there than you will here!”
“No, I won’t go with you,” she asserted, looking up at him. “I’ll wait for you, my darling – I’ll wait as long as I have to!”
For several nights as they lay together, they wrestled with the agonising decision, discussing the pros and cons, and the certain heartache to both. But they both knew that ultimately, it made sense for him to go back to his homeland, where he would be safe.
He packed his trunk with every iota he owned, and paid a tidy sum to a luggage agent from Fort William to collect it and send it on to Germany. “It’s safer for you this way,” he told Rachel. “To all intents and purposes, you’re a woman living alone here. There’ll be no sign of me.”
Within days, before first light, he left her. She stood in the doorway of the cottage, the lantern held high, watching his broad back disappearing into the darkness for the last time, not knowing when she would see him again.
She did not make a sound until she was sure he was well out of hearing, then, with an anguished cry, she collapsed onto the threshold, dropping the lamp, and its flame sputtered out.