The Farmer's Daughter by Mary Nichols Page B

photograph and handed it across to her. ‘This is Heidi.’
    â€˜She is beautiful,’ she said, studying it before handing it back. ‘And such an infectious smile. You must miss her.’
    â€˜Yes, I do. It is her birthday next week. She will be twenty-two and I cannot even wish her fröhlicher Geburtstag .’
    She guessed what that meant. ‘I am sure she knows you are thinking it.’
    â€˜I hope so. You work very hard,’ he said.
    â€˜Can’t be helped.’
    â€˜Have you always wanted to farm?’
    â€˜It’s the only life I know, but I wasn’t expected to run it. I had a job, but I had to give it up when Gordon left.’
    â€˜What did you do?’
    â€˜I was a shop assistant in a dress shop.’ She laughed. ‘Surrounded by good clothes. Just look at me now.’
    He looked up at her. ‘You look beautiful.’
    She stared at him, then laughed in embarrassment. ‘Flattery, Sergeant, flattery. I am impervious to it.’ But she was not. She was inordinately pleased to think he noticed how she looked, though most of the time she was in dungarees, with rubber boots on her feet. In the interests of hygiene her hair was always rolled up and secured under a scarf tied in a turban. How could that be called beautiful?
    â€˜Are you engaged to be married?’ he asked.
    â€˜No, why do you ask?’
    â€˜Mr Howson is very … How do you say?’
    She laughed. ‘Jealous?’
    â€˜Perhaps. But I do not think he likes me.’ He sighed. ‘I am not surprised. I am the enemy, a hated Jerry.’
    â€˜If the boot were on the other foot and he was a prisoner in Germany working with Heidi, you might feel the same.’
    â€˜I expect I would.’
    â€˜But you do like working here? I am not such a hard taskmaster, am I?’
    â€˜I do,’ he said hastily. ‘You have treated me with courtesy and given me hope when I was in despair.’ He reached out and put a hand on her arm. ‘You have shown me that there are good people in the world and one day we will live in peace again. You have made my imprisonment bearable. Given a choice I would still come, that is if nothing happened to prevent me.’
    â€˜What, for instance?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Anything. A disaster.’
    She looked sharply at him. ‘Are you expecting a disaster?’
    â€˜No.’ He paused. ‘Except the defeat of my country.’
    â€˜You have known that for a long time, Karl.’
    â€˜Hitler has ordered every kilometre of ground must be defended to the last man.’
    â€˜You can keep in touch with what is happening then?’
    â€˜We learn it from new prisoners. Some of them are only boys, some are too old to fight and yet they have been in the thick of it.’
    â€˜Cheer up. The war will be over soon and you will be able to go home. And my brother and all other prisoners will be repatriated. Life will return to normal.’
    â€˜Do you really think that?’ he asked. ‘I do not think so. Nothing will be the same again, even though we might wish it.’
    â€˜But surely Hitler will capitulate when Germany itself is threatened?’
    â€˜Germany is threatened all the time by the bombers,’ he said. ‘It only makes the Führer more defiant.’
    â€˜What do your fellow prisoners think about it?’
    â€˜Some are depressed but others are convinced the Führer will turn the tide. They talk of a secret weapon that will turn defeat into victory.’
    â€˜Do you believe that?’
    â€˜I don’t know. We don’t know what is happening in the homeland, how bad it is, if the air raids are having an effect or if, like the Londoners, they are bearing them and carrying on. We do not know if what we hear or read in the English newspapers is truth or propaganda.’
    â€˜Any news from home?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Poor old Karl.’
    â€˜I am not