Chapter 1

August 2,1941

Dear Les,

Greetings from the Isle of Man,or rather from the isle of enchantment.The moment we drove off the ferry onto dry land,the magic began its work.I’m so happy Cyril chose this island for ourhoneymoon.I can’t seem to get my fill of the picturesque villages,the rocky cliffs,and the bracing winds that blow almost constantly in from the Irish Sea.

I’ve never seen such strange-looking wooly sheep;with their upturned horns they remind me of the island’s early Viking invasions,and everywhere,green,green,green.Not the people,silly.The landscape.It’s glorious!

Mrs.Bundy,the local innkeeper,said most of the men are off fighting Germans in Africa,and I suspect this explains why the pubs are so quiet and tame at night.You’d never know there was awar on(slight exaggeration)except for the alien internment camps,the barbed wire,and guards,not to mention that damned island flag with the three running legs of Man that,to me,resembles a swastika.

The people are friendly and in good spirits,especially given the traces of war that are everywhere yet less conspicuous amidst such glorious scenery.Barely a“hello”goes by without an added reference to Manx folklore:beasties,ghosts,and the little people called Themselves who cast their spells around us.The Manx inhabitants weave tales about an ancient wizard who protected their isle from invaders by shrouding it in fog,about men turned into three legged creatures,horses galloping over the seas,and mermaids with long golden hair.I feel as though I’ve walked straight into a childhood fairyland.

Unsurprisingly,Cyril is far too logical to take any of this“fairy nonsense,”as he calls it,seriously.He’s too grounded in reality.As for me,I’d run off with the little folk any day just for the fun of it.All they’d have to do is ask.

Speaking of reality,how are you two getting on in our cottage now that Edward has some time off?I hope you’ve quite settled yourselves into domesticity.No fighting,please.Well,not too much.That’s what couples do,I’m told.So far,we’ve had only minor disagreements over places to visit.Cyril is sold on visiting each Viking and Celtic ruin,and making a pilgrimageto every churchyard and Norse cross in captivity.Did you know the Vikings actually buried their ships?I’m more of a village and pub girl myself.Give me a stiff drink and lively chatter,and I’m yours for hours.Possibly days.

Cyril sends his love.Well,you know what I mean.We plan on taking the early ferry next Thursday and will most likely be home before this letter arrives.I miss our talks,Les,and especially our four o'clock drinks time.Kiss Edward for me.

Fondly,

Caroline(aka Mrs.Cyril Graham.)

Douglas,Isle of Man

Cyril took Caroline’s hand as they ran across the green,mainly to avoid the harsh winds blowing in from the sea.Tummies full from a dinner of kippers—a local specialty at The Black Dog Inn—the pair decided on a leisurely walk before bedtime.Caroline had never had kippers for dinner,only breakfast—being the well brought up English lady she was—but nothing could match the Manx kippers served fresh from the sea and smothered in butter.In a very short time,she’d grown to crave them.

The couple had gone some distance when they came upon a large neighborhood square consisting ofseveral blocks of houses surrounded by barbed wire and patrolled by sentries.This was Hutchinson Internment Camp,one of the many such places scattered about the isle.Since the beginning of the war with Germany,the camps were deemed necessary“in defense of the realm and in order to detain anyone suspected of being a danger to the public safety.”

“Listen,”Caroline said,grabbing Cyril by the arm and stopping him from moving on.“Is thatBach?”

“Sounds like it.A violin for sure.”

“And notes from a piano,”she said.“It’s coming from one of the open windows.“Wish we could get closer,take a look inside.If only—”

“Uh—huh.That’s the reason for the barbed wire,love.It’s to keep them from getting out.Not us from getting in.”

“I know,”she said.Caroline brushed his cheek with one of her long,lacquered nails.She loved the lean look of his face,the longish dark hair touching his coat collar,even his beaked nose lent him character and made him quite sexy.Even if it does remind me of that chap who plays Sherlock Holmes in the cinema.“Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“About every hour on the hour.”

She nudged him in the ribs.“Don’t press your luck,fella,”and then she pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

“Maybe we should cut this walk short,”he said.“I think I’m working up an appetite.”

“We’ve already eaten,silly.”

“I wasn’t thinking about food,”he said.

She jabbed him a bit harder in the ribs.“In time.In time.Just a few more minutes.”She craned her neck and looked upward to the second floor.“Someone has etched a bird in that blackened window.Such beautiful detail.Edward would appreciate the art here.And the music.I read in the local news that Hutchinson is known for its exhibits,concerts,and even theatrical productions.You’d never know it,would you?”

Cyril shifted his weight from one foot to the other,seemingly anxious to start home.“Well,they have to do something to occupy their time.”

“And that’s the point,isn’t it?Just marking time.”Caroline grew misty eyed and turned away looking out toward the green.“This is the view they see day after day.The wire fence,the street with people walking by free to do whatever they please,and then beyond the road the blasted sea.I’d go crazy.”

“Most probably,love,but you aren’t an enemy alien.Come on,let’s turn back.”

Caroline couldn’t let his remark go.Hadn’t she always spoken her mind?“I think it’s wrong,this whole internment program.It’s demeaning.”

“What would you do then,love?”he said.“Take a chance on letting people with connections to enemy countries roam our streets and plot against us?”

“No,of course not,but many of the detainees are Jewish and confirmed anti-Nazis.What harm can they do?They’ve left their countries for sanctuary and not to conspire against us.Many are even naturalized British citizens.”

“You’re only repeating propaganda,what oppressed people always say.Besides,it’s not what we know about people,but what we don’t know that would terrify us if we did.”

“Sounds like a quote from a boring philosophy professor past his prime,or maybe something you’d read in a fortune cookie.”

“In our business,we know people aren’t always what they seem,”he said.

“Yes.I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.Sometimes I hate what we do in name of King and Country.All the lying and subterfuge.But I still think the practice of locking people away without any rights based on where they were born or—”’

He shook his head.“I should know better than to argue with you.Besides,there are reasons those individuals are locked away,as you say.Someone thought they were a threat to our government.Besides,they do have it quite nice.They all have their roles inside.Some are house leaders,cooks,and even orderlies who make their lives run smoothly.They have jobs in the camps based on life skills.”

“Right,”she said,“and they offer art classes,lectures,watch movies,and live the high life.It’s all one big game of happy families.Yes,husband mine,I’ve heard that government propaganda as well.They might as well be chained to the wall behind prison walls for all we care.”

“Thank you,Alexander Dumas.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Listen,dear heart,little by little and once they’ve been vetted,we’ve started letting them out,sending them back to—”He fell quiet a moment.Then,“Are we arguing?”he asked.“Is this our first marital quarrel?”

“Could be.”She turned away from him and leaned back against the fence.“This just feels wrong.Someday—”

“Someday these policies will make sense,and we’ll be glad then we had them in place,”Cyrilsaid.He pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her.“We need to go back.It’s getting cold.”The night had turned damp.A misty fog hovered above the sea and was moving in to shore.