Fern had saved the home—and the medical practice.
The Germans had requisitioned La Bliue Brise, as they had many other homes in Jersey. But Fern had marched up to the GermanFeldkommandantur’s office at Victoria College House and offered her home instead. Not as large, but with a lovely view of the ocean from the top floor. She’d also made the case that preserving the medical practice would keep the islanders healthy, which would keep the occupiers healthy too.
The field commander had accepted Fern’s offer, and Fern had moved back into her childhood room. Ivy enjoyed both her sister’s company and her help with the housekeeping.
Ivy pushed her bicycle through the back door and locked it in the supply room. Sounds emanated from the kitchen. “Fern? I’m sorry I’m late. I—”
“Charlie told me about the foreign workers blocking the road,” Fern called. “He’s washing up. I sent your patients home. I only hope they’ll understand.”
“I hope so too.” Ivy entered the kitchen.
Over two years had passed since Mum had last fried Jersey Wonders in this kitchen. Now with butter and cream and flour rationed, Wonders were only a memory. Yet Ivy could almost smell the twisted loops of sweet dough, could almost hear her mother humming.
At the table, Fern chopped vegetables. “The Jersey grapevine says over one thousand workers arrived today. They’re from Ukraine. Some were captured fighting with the Red Army, some are partisan fighters, and some are conscripts.”
Ivy picked up a knife and peeled a pretty little Jersey Royal potato. “Many are no older than Charlie, and all are in the most pitiable state.”
“I doubt that.” Fern smiled at her and dropped the vegetables into the pot on the stove. “That soft heart of yours.”
“Ivy’s right.” Charlie leaned against the doorjamb. “I saw them too.”
“Make yourself useful, young man.” Fern tossed him a potato.
Instead of peeling it, he studied it with a pensive look. “I enjoyed being useful this summer, making wages and helping the family.”
Fern smoothed a sable curl back from her cheek. “Much appreciated with the practice doing so poorly.”
Ivy’s shoulders stiffened as she diced the potato. What more could she do? She couldn’t force patients to trust a young lady doctor. At least the flood of patients leaving the practice in the first weeks after Dad left had stopped.
“It made me determined to do my bit.” Charlie puffed out his thin chest. “When I’m in school, not only do I not earn money, but my school fees add another burden.”
Ivy’s cheeks tingled as the blood drained from her face. “It’s never a burden.”
Charlie’s lower jaw jutted out. “As the man of the house, I need to contribute, not take. Yesterday I was hired as a deckhand on the SSOrmer.”
Ivy’s knife clattered to the table. “A deckhand!”
“TheOrmer?” Fern stared at Charlie with her lovely mouth hanging open.
Charlie strode to the table and peeled his potato, but his dark lashes fluttered. “It’s a cargo boat. It carries Jersey potatoes toSaint-Malo and returns with food and supplies from France. Not only will I earn money, but I’ll help the people of the Channel Islands.”
“Oh, Charlie.” Ivy waved her hand toward Victoria College, the finest boys’ school in Jersey, where Charlie was a top pupil. “You can’t leave school. You have three more years.”
“In a fortnight I turn fifteen, the school-leaving age.”
“That’s for other boys,” Fern said. “Not boys like you.”
Charlie’s knuckles protruded as his grip on the knife intensified. “Why should boys like me lounge around learning Latin when other boys my age are helping their families? It isn’t right that Ivy’s supporting the three of us.”
Fern gasped. “I work too.”
“You work for Ivy. She’s the only one bringing in money.”
“We don’t mind. We get by.” A horrible spinning sensation, and Ivy pressed her hand to her stomach. “Charlie, please don’t give up your dream. You want to be a doctor. You’ve always wanted—”
“How can I?” He thumped the potato on the table. “Most of the boys and masters from the college evacuated. We have a shell of a school. And where can I study medicine? There are no universities in the Channel Islands. This war—it’s never going to end. I might as well work.”
“Please don’t.” Ivy’s vision blurred. “We’ve always dreamed ... Dad and you and I—”
