Sea Gem (41 page)

‘Good God!’

Raoul was shocked. Words failed him. This was something he had never imagined in his wildest prognostications. ‘He was only a child himself!’

‘Exactly!’ Mary agreed grimly. ‘Under the age of liability without one single shred of evidence too!’

Slowly Mary told him the whole story along with the suspicions of herself, Margaret and old Tante. Raoul listened, his face masked with horror as his handgrip tightened. When Mary stopped he
could only stare at her for a few minutes.

‘You’ve carried this burden all these years!’ he breathed with respect, more shocked than he had thought possible. He gave a deep sigh, releasing her hands with another
squeeze.

‘I’ll watch him now,’ he muttered grimly, and I’ll watch Madam’s back too, he told himself. William had killed once—what was there to stop him doing the same
again? His blood chilled. ‘Yes!’ he muttered, now nodding his head vigorously. ‘After what you’ve told me, it’s just as well to put up with Germans here. They are not
stupid. They are disciplined. If William puts one toenail wrong, the Germans will jump on him. They are an insurance.’

‘Exactly!’ Mary breathed with relief.

‘Who else knows of this?’

‘Old Tante did and Victor. Margaret guessed. Actually,’ she thought quickly, ‘there’s only me and you on this island now who knows but,’ Mary halted, grinning
wolfishly, ‘it’s all down in a letter lodged at James’ office and, even though he’s gone, if anything did happen to me, I’m sure my letter would get to
Emil.’

Raoul nodded with relief. He remembered back to an odd rumour or two he had heard long ago which he had dismissed as trivial gossip. Someone had once shot Victor in his arm. Had she shot him?
Did she still have the weapon? He itched to ask but restrained himself. He hoped his guess was right. William was dangerous.

It was at that point that his mind moved in another direction. It did not hurry, that was never Raoul’s way, but its ponderous progress was difficult to halt once started. He stood
frowning heavily, then his eyes opened wide suddenly.

‘Hah!’ he grunted.

Mary waited apprehensively. ‘What is it?’ she whispered.

‘I wondered why you wanted all that furniture taking to the flat above your first shop,’ Raoul said slowly, working it all out at last. ‘That’s your retreat! Your private
bolt hole against William—and the world. James!’

Raoul gasped. ‘He’s tied up in this somehow but he’s gone and yet—’ Raoul hesitated once more as he laboriously went through various permutations of possibilities.
Then his eyes widened once more. ‘Mary!’

‘Yes?’

Each gazed at the other. Raoul with awe, having arrived at a conclusion that amazed him. Mary sat with baited breath, ready to lie black was white.

‘Don’t you think I should have a key to your flat in case—?’ Raoul shrugged nonchalantly. ‘In case of some kind of emergency or if I wanted to find you in a hurry
for any reason?’ he asked softly, his eyes gleaming. Who would have thought it of her? She was working for Britain on something, arranged by James before he vanished so quickly and
quietly.

Mary narrowed her eyes. It was a valid point. ‘I’ll get another cut but only use it in dire emergencies,’ she said with quiet firmness. ‘And no one is to know including
Amelia!’

Raoul nodded soberly. He too had heard about Gestapo methods of interrogation by torture. He yearned to tell her to take care but could not. That would be an insult to her bravery and integrity.
What Raoul did know was that from now on he would be living in a constant state of apprehension regarding her safety.

‘If ever you want help,’ he began in a very low voice, ‘come to me, no matter what the circumstances. Promise, Mary?’

Her heart swelled. It would be incredible to know she was not totally alone but she prayed to God such a situation would never arise. Insurance of any kind though was always valuable.

‘I will!’ she promised in a whisper.

‘Give you a few more years Mary, and you’ll be a bigger legend than even the Mistress was!’ he prophesied.

‘What? Rubbish!’ Mary snorted but thrilled with the implied compliment. ‘You’d better go in. Amelia will wonder what we’ve been discussing. You’d better make
it the glasshouses or the Germans!’ she suggested.

Raoul knew she was right. Patting her shoulder he turned and walked away, hastily constructing a tale for his wife.

News flew around the island at the speed of light despite all the occupiers trying to halt rumour. When Major Sherwell was arrested, for trying to assist two officers to
escape, there were rumbles. When Sherwell was taken to France a heavy gloom fell upon Guernsey because what chance was there for anyone to return?

Mary compiled her notes with meticulous care but there were times when doubt assailed her. When would someone come to collect it? The sheath of papers, thin and capable of being folded very
flat, were secreted under a loose floorboard which Mary hoped would escape any prying eyes.

In early November it became raw-cold and she let Alice leave early as a fog misted the island. Mary shivered. It was going to be a miserable ride home and she was tempted to leave too. She had
waited so many evenings, all alone, a prey to miserable thoughts, and no one had appeared. Had something gone wrong with James’ arrangements? Had Guernsey perhaps been forgotten?

Guernsey seemed weighed down with German troops, all of which she had observed. Which troops, from where, their numbers and vehicles, the state of their morale, the numbers of officers, the
secret police, her dossier gave a complete picture of the occupation. Sometimes she ran her fingers over the tidy notes, musing idly to herself. What was the point of it all really? Britain had no
chance at the moment of freeing them.

She watched Alice trot down the road then shut the door, ready to lock up. She had just turned to the till to check the day’s takings when the door opened and the bell gave its tinny
warning. She swore to herself. She felt in no mood to deal with a last-minute shopper.

‘I’ve closed for the night!’ she said briskly.

The man who entered stood in the gloom because the lights had been switched off as Mary erected the blackout. He was tall and she could just make out he wore a dirty guernsey sweater over
crumpled, corduroy trousers whose ends were tucked into rubber boots. Obviously a late fisherman wanting something.

‘The fog comes straight from Jethou tonight,’ he said quietly.

Mary’s heart flipped a beat as she recognised the code word. She swallowed, bit her lip and moved from behind the counter. She knew that voice! The figure and its stance were familiar.

Then she remembered. ‘But it hasn’t reached Lihou yet!’ she replied as James had instructed.

The man whipped around, slammed the door’s bolts to, then strode across to the rear doors at the store room and checked they were secured. He looked upwards and nodded at the stairs to her
flat.

Mary gulped with excitement and flew up them with him following, taking them two at a time. She raced around upstairs, drawing the blackout then switched on a small lamp that gave muted light.
Then she turned and faced him.

‘Victor!’ she gasped, one hand flying to her throat, then he was across the room, holding her shoulders, kissing her savagely. Mary responded, her heart thudding with joy. They
kissed again and again, then he stepped back, studying her.

‘My sweet Catherine. I
never
thought it would be you! I had it in my head the contact was the shop girl!’

Mary shook her head with equal amazement. ‘To think it’s you who are Jethou! My heart stopped when you used the code and I knew your voice but I simply couldn’t take it all
in!’

He pulled her into his arms again, letting his hands tangle then smooth her hair before they slid down her cheeks, turning her lips to his once more.

‘You!’ he murmured, between kisses. ‘You! That old fox James!’

Mary stiffened and pulled back. ‘James?’ she whispered stunned. ‘James recruited you as well? But I thought you—I mean—’ She shook her head bewildered as they
sank down together on her settee.

He grinned happily at her and chuckled. ‘He fooled us both!’

‘When were you recruited?’ Mary had to know.

He frowned. ‘Years ago!’

‘Me too!’

‘I thought I’d make the contact, then try to slip over to Cobo to have five minutes with you because my time is short,’ he told her softly.

Mary flinched. ‘Good job you didn’t! I’ve German officers billeted on me, and William lives there too, don’t forget!’

He pulled a face and shook his head, then smiled again, half to himself. ‘James would have worked that one out too, I bet!’

Mary broke into a fit of giggles like a young girl. The idea of quiet little mousy Alice doing secret work was a huge joke to her.

‘What is it?’

Mary laughed softly. ‘If you knew my shop girl, nice though she is, you’d laugh yourself. But you said you don’t have long?’

He shook his head sadly. ‘I have to—move on and make a rendezvous,’ he told her tactfully. She looked at his watch, which she saw was not his own. It was large and encased in
rubber and she guessed it was a special service’s one. The rubber gave her a clue. Had he swum ashore somewhere, hidden protective clothing, removed these clothes from some waterproof
container then come to her? She studied him. He appeared little changed, perhaps a shade leaner as if he had been trained razor sharp. His face was weatherbeaten and when she leaned against him she
felt something hard. She pulled back, lifted the guernsey and her lips tightened as she saw a pistol and a long sheath knife.

‘Tools of the trade, I call ’em,’ he joked lightly, knowing he did not fool her for an instant. ‘Got any gauche?’

Mary sprang to her feet. ‘Of course. Let me get you something to eat.’

She was glad to bustle about, taking quick peeps at him as she did so. He leaned back against the settee as if weary but she saw he was alert, listening all the time.

Victor watched her, glad to relax his muscles and recover his strength. The swim had been hard and exceedingly cold, then there had been the screwing up of his nerves as he had slipped through
the town streets, mingling like other locals in the gloom, ignoring walking Germans. She had changed in some subtle manner. Her clothes were not as smart as they had once been, yet she moved with
her old brisk efficiency.

He cursed himself. His time was so short. He knew instinctively that if it had been longer and he made a move towards her, she would not rebuff him. He felt himself erect and the ache came as he
saw the movement of her breasts against her cardigan as she leaned forward with the teapot. Dear God, she affected him more each time he saw her. It crossed his mind to debate as to whether he was
the proper person to be her contact after all—yet he was Guernsey through and through. His fluency with patois plus his good French and local knowledge made him the obvious man to come but
his heart pained him.

Mary brought him his food. ‘Eat!’ she said briskly and slowly sat to watch him wolf the gauche. She had kept just one light glowing, enough to throw a small pool on the carpet which
gave the room a snug appearance and which was impossible to see from outside. Once again, as so often in the past, she felt his aura spread around her like a safe, comforting cloak while his sheer
masculine presence dominated her flat.

When he had finished he licked his fingers. ‘That was good,’ he said. Then he lifted his arms and slipped off the guernsey to reveal a British army battledress jacket underneath with
a captain’s three pips. Mary wondered if he wore officer’s trousers under the corduroys but doubted it.

His hand went into his jacket pocket and he gave her a sealed envelope. ‘From Margaret,’ he told her, ‘and don’t ask questions!’

Mary gasped, snatched the letter and held it in both hands cuddled against her breasts.

‘Tell me quickly, is she all right?’

He grinned. ‘She was fine when I saw her last week.’

‘Last week!’ Mary exclaimed. Only seven days ago. ‘Tell me what you can,’ she begged.

‘She’s joined the ATS and is a lorry driver and already has a stripe up. She’s stationed in the Midlands not far from Leicester. She’s in the pink of health and
condition, as happy as possible with her work, thriving in service life but misses you, Michael and Guernsey, though I’m not sure in which order,’ he chuckled.

‘Michael?’

‘In the army somewhere. I can’t tell you any more because I just don’t know myself. I saw him a month ago. He looks well too, but has fined down and there’s a toughness
about him. I don’t think I’d care to cross him one dark night.’

Mary paused but she felt she had to ask. ‘Your family? Are they well?’

Victor paused. ‘Jenny is in the WAAF. James is chomping at the bit at a good school in Bristol, cursing because he’s too young to join up, and Nicole? I suppose she’s all
right,’ he said casually.

Mary’s eyebrows lifted for a second. There was indeed something amiss there. She wondered if she could question him, and thought better of it but Victor read her mind. If there had been
more time he would have confirmed that the Alderney row had finished whatever relationship he and Nicole had had. They were married in name only, living separate lives, kept in loose contact by
their children. It was really only for the sake of young James that he bothered to see her. James required roots and Nicole at least provided a home base for him. Once the war finished he intended
to divorce her, come what may, and make a fresh start with Mary.

‘What do you have for me?’ he asked suddenly.

Mary nodded and retrieved her hidden papers, passing them to him. He rolled them in a thin sheet of waterproof then slipped them next to his skin under his military battle jacket before putting
his guernsey back on.

‘Sherwell is in trouble,’ Mary told him, not sure how much he knew.

He was more up to date than her. ‘He’s in Paris but you don’t know that!’ he warned her quickly.

‘Will he be shot?’

‘We hope not. It was all most unfortunate. The two men who came to the island couldn’t get off again. Something went wrong and you know it’s virtually impossible to find a safe
hiding place here. They had to surrender to the Germans but no one had time to brief them. Different stories were told and the Germans pounced.’