Sea Gem (52 page)

‘It’s no secret now,’ he told her. ‘I was dropped to a guerrilla group into France and I have been serving with them as liaison officer. That’s why I was unable to
let you know anything.’

‘The old fisherman came for a long time but then he stopped. He had warned me he’d probably not come again with the invasion. I wasn’t sorry. It was such hard work walking from
Cobo to town and back regularly.’

His face became grim. ‘He’s dead, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh no!’ Mary cried. ‘How? What happened?’

‘He made one trip too many on the wrong night,’ he explained slowly. ‘The Germans must have been getting suspicious of his activities. Anyhow, he was coming into harbour one
evening when a fast sea boat challenged him. We’ll never know exactly what happened nor what was in his mind. He had a revolver, pulled it out and let rip, killing a German. They opened up
with a light machine gun and that was the end, I’m afraid.’

Mary felt sad. ‘He died fighting though. He was wonderful and brave and kind, bringing us a little food when he could!’ She turned her attention to him scrutinising carefully. His
hair was iron grey but otherwise he looked exceptionally well and so weather beaten.

‘You’ve not been wounded?’ she asked softly.

He gave a brisk shake to his head. ‘I’ve been lucky!’ he told her, not bothering to elaborate. So lucky that at one stage he had only just been a street ahead of pursuing
troops, after his cell had been destroyed by a quisling traitor and he’d been forced to escape over the mountains to Spain.

‘What about James—have you any news of him?’

‘He’s all right now but minus one foot and part of the leg. He stepped on a mine and don’t ask me any more. He’ll not fight again and probably he’ll be back here
before me but you should see him getting around now. He has an artificial foot and leg and he can just about keep up with me,’ he said, trying to make light of it all.

Mary’s eyes closed with pain. At least
he
was alive. ‘Do you know anything of the Ozanne boys. Raoul and Amelia are my close friends, without them—’

‘The last I heard of them they were living the lives of the devil wenching with the free French maidens, having themselves a real ball and I guess by now they’ll be on their way to
Germany and Berlin. They are a rough, tough pair, the salt of our Guernsey earth!’

‘Thank goodness!’ she breathed with relief. ‘I’ll tell them when we get back.’ She nodded towards the slowly moving queue. ‘You can’t sneak back to
Cobo?’

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’d love to but I can’t. We sail again today back to Portugal,’ he explained heavily. There was so much to learn about her; so much to relate but
it would have to wait.

‘Your family?’ Mary asked him.

‘James is at school, doing very well but infuriated the war’s going to end before he can do his bit.’

‘Nicole?’ Mary prodded.

He did stop to collect his thoughts. It was true Nicole no longer ranted and raved; instead there were days when she did not seem to be in the same world. It seemed he was doomed to be tied to
Nicole and the only straw to which he dared cling was the idea she might get tired of him.

Mary sensed there was a problem but suddenly did not wish to know. One day perhaps, when it was all over and she might be able to help.

‘When will you come home, as soon as Berlin falls?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ he admitted sadly. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more than to put my roots down here again but he who wins the war also has to win the
peace. Don’t forget there is still Japan. I hope to wangle a leave as soon as possible when the island is freed. Any problems with William?’

Mary was startled. ‘William is dead. He died quite a while ago,’ she said in a low voice.

He was staggered, quite unprepared for this turn of events. ‘What happened?’

It was her turn to touch one of his hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she told him firmly. ‘Not now.’

He knew when he had been excluded deliberately just as he also knew when not to pry. When he did return, there would be ways and means to find out. He looked at her lowered head. What was she
hiding? Dear God, what had happened to her after his last visit? There was such yearning inside him to kiss her but one of the soldiers cleared his throat and moved a pace nearer, eyeing them with
the greatest interest.

‘Mary!’ Raoul bellowed down at her. ‘Come on now. It’s nearly our turn!’ he cried with excitement.

Mary looked up at Victor, eyes wide. ‘I’ll have to go. I cannot bear not to have my parcel now.’

He pulled her to her feet. ‘Go and get it and enjoy it. There will be plenty more coming. You’ll never be hungry again, any of you.’

‘We’ll all come back here!’ she said quickly. She could not part from him so abruptly.

He shook his head slowly. ‘That might not be wise,’ he said flicking his eyes towards the soldiers, ‘and anyhow, I have to get back aboard. See, it looks as if the hold is
empty which means sailing very quickly to catch the tide. Take care of yourself, heart of my heart. I will come back, but when I know not. As soon as you are liberated, Margaret will be here and
James.’ He paused. ‘Ever see Emil?’

Mary nodded eagerly. ‘Often. He’s tired and hungry too but well and has been good to me. He helped when I needed it desperately. Look, I must go!’

‘Go then,’ he said softly and, damning the Germans, leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. He spun on his heels, glowered at the Germans, then vaulted up on deck again. Once more
he was on Portuguese territory and no one could stop him watching her. He saw her join the Ozannes and realised he would never have recognised them either if Mary had not told him. It was a good
job their boys were not here. They’d just as likely turn their guns on every German in sight. He stored up pictures and memories as he watched his personal group of three take a precious
parcel each from the authorities. He saw them step aside and show each other. He saw them turn and three hands waved to him then, with Raoul in the middle, they slowly set off on the long haul back
to Cobo. He strained with his eyes, not wanting to lose even one last peep but their heads were gradually lost among the crowd still winding their patient way down to the ship. Where was his
spirited, fiery Catherine?

They sat around the Ozanne kitchen and listened to Mary’s gentle words and tears streamed down Amelia’s face while Raoul coughed, clearing his throat unnecessarily.
They had had no idea with whom Mary had been talking. Victor’s grey beard and hair had changed him completely and Mary had waited until they were back at the cottage before enlightening
them.

‘My boys!’ Amelia sang softly.

Raoul was too choked for words but he sniffed, bit his bottom lip then unfastened his parcel. He dare not speak; he knew he would break down too which would never do.

‘Look!’ Raoul gasped and they all gazed with awe, hardly daring to do more than rest light fingers on their food. Real tea and coffee, biscuits, chocolate, marmalade, jam, cheeses,
tinned meats—the parcel seemed never-ending, down to cigarettes.

‘Oh!’ Mary gasped. ‘And it’s real too! Look at the wrappings! Feel! Real tea and coffee—’ Then she stopped and threw Amelia a look.

Amelia’s eyes held hers then dropped first. ‘Oh very well,’ she grumbled trying to be sour, but failing. Raoul’s homily had gone home but the final breakdown of her
resistance had been the wonderful news of her precious sons.

‘Raoul?’ Mary asked, holding up one packet of tea.

‘Give it to them. I guess two wrongs don’t make one right and they did share that coffee with us,’ he said with good nature then he turned back to the food, which Amelia was
placing on the table with the loving care with which she would handle fine, delicate porcelain. ‘I wonder when we’ll get some flour for real bread? Bread, butter and cheese,’ he
anticipated, mouth slavering for in his parcel there was some tinned butter.

Amelia grinned at him, her heart lighter. What a wonderful start to 1945.

Mary picked up the packet of tea. ‘I’m going up to the house,’ she told them. ‘I know they are all now worried sick about the huge raids on Germany and their families.
They are all frightened of what’s going to happen to them too.’

Amelia lifted her head and a reserve of tartness flashed. ‘In that case, they shouldn’t invade people’s islands!’

Raoul flashed a look at Mary and she took the hint, slipping out of the door before Amelia could change her mind about the small packet of tea. The last thing she could bear was a row between
the three of them.

Mary went into her home, entering the lounge that the officers used. The four of them sprang to their feet at her arrival.

‘We’ve just collected our food parcels,’ she began quietly. ‘You shared your coffee with us when we had none. Here is a packet of tea for you.’

She thrust the packet into the hands of the oldest man, who must have been of her own age. He took the packet with wonder, his face creasing into great pleasure while the other officers looked
from the tea, to the Frau and back to the tea again. One licked his lips with anticipation.

‘Vielen dank, meine frau!’

They then stood, all slightly embarrassed, uncertain what to do or say next. Mary knew it was up to her to break this awkward impasse.

‘Don’t forget to warm the pot properly first and make sure the water is really boiling!’ she told them, then turned, trotted up the stairs and locked herself in her room to
burst into wild tears of longing, sadness and sheer exhilarating hope.

Relief charged her batteries. Margaret was safe and well and would be coming home later this year. The war was ending slowly but what would she now be like? She had been away five whole years
and had left as a young girl. Now she would be a mature woman, one who had been through a different kind of war with the pain and anguish of being separated from her love.

Her thoughts switched to Victor and she smiled tenderly to herself. He had survived so far. Unlike poor James, he had shown himself to her sound of wind and limb. Pray God he continued with such
luck. It occurred to her that he too might have stories he would never relate; bringing them out into the open would only cause pain. There were going to be many like her who would only wish to
forget, to put it all behind them and start again.

She examined her true feelings. He still had that magic charisma for her which she knew no other man would ever produce. He was still married though, so where did that leave both of them? Mary
had a shrewd idea that the long war would have changed standards.

She would live each day as it came and play it all by ear but, after being alone for so long, the thought of lying in his arms at night was touchingly painful. They were both in their forties
and with good health, they could live for many years yet. She took a deep breath, her smile crinkling her lips, throwing light on her thin face as she pictured life with him.

* * *

The island throbbed with expectation as the Allies crossed onto German soil and it was a harrowing time for the occupiers. With the food parcels and the rations brought by the
Red Cross ships, the islanders began to flesh out again.

The Jerrybags trembled, knowing full well how their fellow islanders might turn upon them once German protection vanished. The informers were petrified. They wanted to go but were trapped like
everyone else. Many talked of selling up and migrating to make a fresh life. Once the liberation came, there would be scores to settle and fear filled the air to intermingle with hope.

For the Germans it was now their bad time. They suffered. They had no food parcels and it was they who became gaunt shadows but their discipline held firm. Not one German soldier stole an
islander’s food parcel. What crime there was over the parcels, including two terrible murders of an old couple, were the work of islanders. The Germans were apprehensive about their fate
under the Allies but, most of all, they were worried to distraction at what was happening in Germany. As the weeks passed, the Allied Armies advanced and many of the islanders found compassion in
themselves for the German troops especially the young raw recruits who had come to the island and been trapped. It was pointless to carry out a vendetta against these losers.

Through the early months of 1945 the tension rose with each month, then week. Rumour and gossip sped hot-foot all over the island and, in May, it peaked when it was known that HMS
Bulldog
, escorted by the destroyer
Beagle
had liaised with a German ship.

Now that she was stronger, Mary went into the shop once a week. There were some goods they could sell but mostly she went to get the current news, to chat to Alice, to talk with Emil and to
prepare for the Great Day.

On one morning as she walked the last few yards she grinned to see Union and Guernsey flags already sprouting patriotically despite the fact they were still occupied. The few Germans she saw
discreetly looked the other way so Mary marched into her shop briskly.

‘Alice!’ she cried. ‘We have a Union flag somewhere! Get it out and fly it high!’

The girl blinked at Mary’s stern tone of voice. ‘The Germans?’ she questioned nervously.

‘Damn them!’ Mary snorted. ‘We’re not going to be the one place without a welcome to the Tommies!’

Alice hurried to the back room and found the flag, which had been folded, wrapped up and hidden from alien eyes. She emerged, red-faced but triumphant, holding it in her hand. Mary grabbed it,
then ran up to her flat. It was a long time now since she had spent time in it and there was a coating of dust everywhere. This she ignored, flung open a window with a bang then, leaning out, fixed
her flag to a short pole that had once been part of the wireless aerial. The flag hung limp for a moment, almost as if shocked from its sleep, then came a puff of wind and the Union flag stirred
and waved. A few passers-by below caught the flash of moving red, white and blue and stopped to cheer approval. Mary heard the doorbell ting but ignored it as she leaned out, grinning wildly,
feeling as mad and crazy as a young girl.
This
was what victory and liberation felt like! It was—wonderful!