Phew! Finally done! Am toying with the idea of an epilogue but I quite like the note this ends on.
The first happened just after lunch one Friday. I was sitting quietly alone in our hut, mending a tear in my best blouse, when there came a knock on the door and Arthur entered. I greeted him with my usual friendliness, for, despite my nervousness around him I did enjoy our conversations. He asked if I was getting bored now that so few people were left in the camp. I responded that I didn't mid the lack of activity as I was so looking forward to going home that little else mattered. Then I asked him what he would do once the camp was wound up. "Will they send you to a POW camp, or will you do something different?" I enquired. "To be honest, I'm not sure where they'll post me," he responded as he sat down next to me. "I've asked Harris if he'll recommend me to the ack-ack - I wanted to be a radio operator when I joined up, you see, but they sent me here instead." I wished him luck with his goal and the conversation turned to current affairs. The Germans and Italians had recently invaded the southern part of France, in response to the Allied landings in North Africa, and Britain was understandably concerned about this development. After talking about this and the ongoing Soviet attempts to repel the Italians from the USSR for fifteen minutes or so, there came a lull in the conversation and Arthur cleared his throat.
"Gertrud, you must know that I think very well of you, and that, well, I'll... miss you once you've left." I was not entirely surprised by this, as I had gradually come to realise why Arthur so often sought my company, but was unsure of how to respond. While I had felt excited by his attention - and even been attracted to him at one stage - I did not feel that he was the right man for me. Besides, I was only nineteen. How on earth could I let him know that I did not want to be his girl, without embarrassing or hurting him? Before I could reply, however, he continued. "What I'm trying to ask, Gertrud, is... whether you would keep in touch with me?" I was flustered and took a deep breath before managing to answer. "Arthur, I have appreciated your friendship a great deal, and I will always think kindly of you. But, you see, I want my departure from the camp to be a new start in my life and I'm not sure I... that is, I want to find a path for myself before I think about - well, about men friends. I'm not even twenty yet, you know." He looked at the floor and seemed to be struggling to find what he wanted to say. "I'm sorry, Arthur. And I did mean it when I said I valued your friendship over the last year." He nodded. "I see. Stupid of me for asking, really." With that, he got up and left.
The second surprising event came the next day, when Sergeant Harris requested a meeting with me. I had no idea what to expect as I walked to his office, but did not have to wonder long as he began the interview in his usual abrupt manner. "So, Fraulein Becke. What do you wish to do with yourself when you leave here? Young man waiting, is there?" Blushing, I explained that I had no young man and that I wanted a useful job. He asked if I had considered the land army or the ATS. I said that I had, and that I would gladly sign up for either, if they would have me. Then I hesitated, as I wasn't quite sure how I could explain my vague ideas. "Sergeant, I came to this country not so long ago, I experienced a Nazi education. The German people - well, most of them - they believe all the propaganda that I found to be false when I left. There's a generation that's been practically brought up on Herr Hitler's ideas. And I want... I wish I could do something for them. Yes, keeping Britain fed and the army supplied with weapons and tanks is important but... you can't force people's minds to change with war. You can free the concentration camps but people might not believe what they really were. Because most of the people in Germany who really saw Hitler for what he was are gone." I tailed off, not sure where I was heading.
Sergeant Harris had looked thoughtful through my speech. Now he frowned slightly and tapped his pen on the desk. After a moment, her spoke again. "You are a very thoughtful young woman, Fraulein Becke. I think you are also well educated and an excellent communicator. I don't think you would suit the ATS or the land army - oh, you'd do it willingly and do some good, I have not doubt, but I think you would be better employed elsewhere." I waited patiently for him to explain further, wondering if he meant for me to become a secretary for one or other of the armed forces, for that was the only job I could think of that involved communication. "Are you aware that we drop more than bombs on Germany and the occupied countries?" He paused. "I'm talking about propaganda, Fraulein Becke. Leaflets, designed to lower troop morale and create distrust of the authorities." My eyes widened - I had not considered that the allies might use propaganda, as the Nazis had done against their opponents. "Effective propaganda units need native speakers to translate their ideas, to put them in the correct idiom, you understand. Make it strike a chord with people. You would have to be interviewed, of course, but I think you would be a good candidate. What do you say?"
I was stunned - it sounded so... well, glamorous, if I'm honest with myself, but I could see that it was valuable work and I leaped at the chance. I told Sergeant Harris that I was certainly interested, that I would go to any interview that was necessary and that, if selected, I would work hard. I thanked him sincerely for his thoughtfulness and shook his hand warmly. I asked him what should happen next, and he explained that I would receive a telegram on my return to Glasgow calling me for an interview in Edinburgh. I would have to move to London if deemed suitable for the job, and I was to tell no-one what I was doing, beyond saying that I would be working as a translator for the government. Besides working with the propaganda unit, I might also be used as a translator in interviews with German prisoners of war. I left his office with my head spinning.
Mother was very proud when I told her Sergeant Harris was going to recommend me for a job, though she expressed some worry that I would be alone in London and at risk of air raids. I was so caught up in imagining my future job that the last week in the camp passed in a whirl. It seemed that no time at all passed between leaving the office and carrying our luggage out of the hut for our departure. Arthur seemed to avoid me for most of that time, and the first few conversations we had after that one in my hut were strained, to say the best. But the day before we left I made a point of cornering him to say goodbye, and we shook hands and wished each other well with only minimal embarrassment on either part.
After the long journey by boat and rail, we arrived home tired and hungry to find the house aired, the beds made up and a selection of tinned meat, fruit and milk in the kitchen. In our emotional state, we almost cried at Mrs MacLean's thoughtfulness. After a long sleep - and how we reveled in the softness of our mattresses! - we spent the next morning becoming re-acquainted with our home before calling on our friends. We found the Zimmermanns at home, Herr Zimmerman having returned just in time to celebrate Hanukkah with his family, and in good health. Mrs MacLean and Dora welcomed us home with open arms and the rest of the day was spent catching up with one another. Dora had joined an anti-aircraft battery and was home on leave for Christmas (it was, by this point, mid December) and was excited to hear of my future work for the war effort - though of course we could not discuss the details of what she did, nor of what I was about to do.
And so mother and I passed a quiet, happy Christmas together before the new year marked an end to the previous chapter of our lives and a fresh start. Mother made enquiries and acquired a job as a mother's help and governess for a family with six small children. When Janina told her in a letter that her husband had left her for a woman he had met during his internment, mother immediately suggested that she and her children move to Glasgow and live with her. As for me, on the second of January mother walked me - in my brand new suit and high-heeled work shoes - to the train station and kissed me goodbye as I caught the express to London and my new life.
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Have a lovely holiday.