The Albion Kiss.

Southwest England, 1943.

I want to kill my husband.

It’s not entirely his fault; we’ve been stuck in this cold, claustrophobic house together for too long now. Trapped by the remoteness of the endless fields that make up our farm, the rolling hills beyond acting as mighty walls. Our only neighbour is a nosey woman in a cottage on the opposite side of the distant road. I can’t breathe. Nothing exciting ever happens here. Well, except for that Luftwaffe plane crash a little while ago. There was a big search for the pilot by all the locals, but he was never found.

What is my husband's fault though, is the moaning, the moodiness and the meanness. The constant complaining about how he’s suddenly getting less to eat. I tell him, it’s the rationing, but he always sneers.

Neither of us even wanted this marriage. But I fell pregnant and that’s just what you do in such a situation. You pull up your socks and suck it up. Except, all there is now is silence. A silence that’s got us locked together till death do us part. Oh, here he comes. His size nine boots can be heard a mile away. He’s come charging into the house like a bull in a china shop, face like thunder.

Our eyes meet and he holds up a white feather. Oh dear, I thought that all finished with the Great War. One of the church busybodies from the next town slipped into his hat, apparently. It wasn’t his choice though, see. He tried to enlist but was turned away because he’s a bit asthmatic. But people can’t see that, can they? They just see a robust, burly man of fifty-four. And he is as strong as he looks, something I know better than anyone…

Is it bad that I was disappointed when he wasn’t allowed to go off and fight the krauts?

Apparently he’s got to go out again soon. I try not to look relieved. I make us a cup of tea, and for once, we have something to talk about. He tells me that he’ll be heading off to Samson’s place. He’s having some trouble with one of his pigs. David, my husband, trained as a vet some thirty years ago now. He gave it up and fancied himself a farmer though, and here we are. He still sometimes helps out other farmers on the QT, saves them a bit on the vet bills.

After he’s supped the last drops of his cuppa, he heads off and says he won’t be back for a couple of hours. My heart leaps. After he’s gone, I grab some of last night’s leftover mock brains and carrots, and make the trek to the old barn on the other side of the farm. It's getting a bit dull, but when I peer through the slightly open barn door, some light is still seeping into the dark interior, through the various cracks. I enter, walking towards the wall of stacked hay, and then peer around the side of it.

There, gently sleeping, was Otto.

I crouch down beside him and gently nudge him. He almost jumps out of his skin, but settles when he realises it’s me.

“Anna.”

He’s a young man, no more than thirty-five, and barely fills out his Luftwaffe uniform. You couldn’t call him handsome—a less generous person might even say he’s a bit plain—but he has warm eyes and a gentle charm. Magnetic, in that sort of effortless way that those glamorous film stars are. He’s the missing pilot. He stumbled over here whilst I was feeding the chickens, and I made the decision to help him. A traitor that might make me, but I feared what would happen if he was discovered, and I didn’t want any part in that. It’s been a few weeks since that day, and only a few days less than that when we made love for the first time.

That first kiss was electric. So supple and emotional. I’d never known affection like it. Since then, I’ve made it my duty to see him right, and that’s what I’ve done. His wounds are nearly healed, and then we’ll decide what to do. It’s scary. Exciting. Thrilling.

I let him eat and afterwards, I move the rusty old spade next to him away, so I can lie beside him. He tells me about his family back in Berlin, how he wants to go back to carpentry after the war, and I tell him about how I used to be a nurse, before my husband insisted I give it up and become a stay-at-home wife. I’d given up so much for that man. Not that you’d think he knew it. Otto says I could be a nurse in Germany after the war. That we could be together. We talk and laugh more and more, sharing our dreams and hopes, time flying by.

In the midst of our laughter though, a booming voice shouts my name.

My blood runs cold.

I get up and look around frantically for somewhere to hide Otto. But there is nowhere. And he’s getting closer. Those heavy footsteps crunching through the grass are getting louder and louder. I’m shaking, eyes darting back and forth.

CLANG.

A heavy hand hits the metal lock of the barn door, and it opens with a swift tug. There, bathed in the light of the waning sun, stands a strapping figure. It’s David.

Otto leaps to his feet. I try to act natural but it’s no use. We both look like a pair of deer in the headlights. David stands silent, his rugged, handsome face contorting into frustration. “What the hell is going on?” he roars.

Neither of us say a word.

David walks towards us, and my breath escapes me as he approaches. He doesn’t stop in front of me as I expect though, but walks on past, and stands face-to-face with Otto. Otto stands straight, jaw clenched and eyes vaguely concealing fear. “You’re that pilot who crashed, aren’t you?” David says. “What are you doing in my barn, with my wife?”

Otto doesn’t so much as utter a single word. David presses him but he remains silent, which only invites his fury. He grabs him by his collar and shakes him, shouting at him. Otto clasps his long hands around David’s wrist, but it’s no use. I’m shouting at him, pleading him to let go, but all he can see is red. Then, when Otto tries to pull free, David throws him to the ground and climbs on top of him. The scene doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real. My husband slams a fist into my lover’s face. The slight yelp and cracking sound as the punch hits cuts through me like a knife.

“Stop it! You’ll kill him!”

He doesn’t care though. Despite Otto already slipping out of consciousness following the first punch, he launches another. And then another. I run over and try to pull him off, but he grabs my blouse and throws me to the ground. Tears are streaming down my face and my shoulder hurts but I don’t care, I have to save him. My eyes settle on the spade, and I grab it without a second thought, pull myself, and with all I can muster, swing it down on David’s head. He slumps down almost straight away, and what follows is silent dread.

Have I just killed my husband?

Otto begins to stir, breaking me from my anticipation. I drop the spade and head over to him, pulling him from underneath David. He looks around aimlessly for a moment, looking dazed and clasping onto my arm. Then I hear voices. A group of them. One shouts above the rest.

“David? Anna? Is everything alright?”

It’s the locals. The neighbour, that woman, must have seen me go in the barn, and not come out. That must have been why David came. Oh God, what will I do? What about Otto? He tugs at my arm and whispers to me as he stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t worry.”

Five of them enter the barn, and one of them gasps at the sight. David stirs. I leap out of my skin, and he looks around, vaguely annoyed. Is he going to tell them? Why wouldn’t he? I’ve cheated and damned near killed him. He and Otto exchange looks as the leader of the pack speaks up.

“What’s going on?”

“This is that kraut.” David says blearily, before looking at Anna. “He tried to attack her. He took me by surprise. Good thing you got here in time.”

“Is this true?” one of the younger lads at the back asks.

“Yes.” Otto replies.