We'll Meet Again (27 page)

By November there was still no news of Rayner and no way of finding out what had happened to him. Meg still lived in constant fear of Nordhausen. He appeared when she was least expecting it, like an evil genie of the lamp, to taunt her with threats of exposing Gerald as an impostor. So far he had not seriously molested her, but the leering, lustful
expression in his eyes was enough to sicken and terrify her. For her the nightmare lived on.

Adding to her misery, Nordhausen had commandeered her bicycle, making visits to see Pearl impossible unless she walked, and then von Eschenberg decided that everyone needed a pass if they wanted to leave the grounds. Meg suspected that Nordhausen had something to do with this sudden change of tactics, but all she could do was request a permit and then wait. It seemed like months before she was granted one, although it was only a matter of weeks, and she set out to walk to the Grange, eager to get away from the stultifying atmosphere of the manor house.

As she reached the outskirts of town she quickened her pace. It was bitterly cold and her mother’s old coat would have gone round her twice. Catching sight of herself in the window of an empty shop Meg grimaced, wondering what Mother and Adele would have said if they could see her now. Strands of hair had escaped from the multicoloured cap that she had painstakingly knitted from scraps of wool. Old jumpers had been unpicked by Maud so that they could be made into gloves, scarves and hideous hats like the one Meg was now wearing. The soles of her shoes were riddled with holes and the uppers were scuffed and coming apart at the seams. Meg could barely remember what it was like to be warm and well dressed. The days when food was plentiful and her belly did not contract with hunger
pains were so long gone it seemed like another world. She trudged on, passing people she knew but barely recognised as they went about their daily business looking like gaunt scarecrows.

When she finally reached the house in the Grange, Hannah ushered her into the drawing room and hobbled away to find Pearl. The cold winter light made the room appear like a scene from a black and white film. The shadowy shapes of the furniture were ghostly memories of the past. Meg felt a lump rising in her throat as she recalled the ecstatic moments that she and Rayner had shared in those scented summer days that seemed like part of her dream world now. Nothing had changed, although everything was just that little bit shabbier. The sofa was still there, bringing back memories of being held in Rayner’s arms and the stolen moments of forbidden love that had made life worth living. Meg sighed. Dwelling on the past too much was surely the path to madness. She shivered, wrapping her coat even tighter around her body. A desultory fire burned in the grate, but it gave out little heat.

Moments later, Pearl rushed into the room followed by Buster, who jumped up at Meg and licked her face, wagging his tail and grinning. She bent down to make a fuss of him. ‘He still remembers me.’

‘Of course he does, darling,’ Pearl said, smiling. ‘He’s missed you and I have too.’ A look of concern puckered her face. ‘You look awful. Are you ill?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Meg lied, rubbing Buster’s ears and
smiling down at him. ‘I’m just cold, and I had to walk all the way. That swine Nordhausen has stolen my bike, blast him.’

‘I’ve asked Hannah to bring coffee.’ Pearl sat on the sofa, patting the empty space next to her. ‘Sit down and tell me all about it. Has that brute hurt you?’

‘No, he just mumbles obscenities in my ear and leers at me.’ Meg stroked Buster’s head as he settled down at her feet.

‘You should report him to the Hauptmann.’

‘I can’t, Pearl. He knows too much about Gerald. One word against him and he’ll go to Dressler with the truth.’ She paused as Hannah entered the room carrying a tray of coffee, which she set on the low table in front of the sofa.

‘Thank you, Hannah,’ Pearl said, smiling. ‘Hot coffee is just what Meg needs. She’s frozen, poor thing.’

‘It’s that ersatz stuff, which isn’t what I’d call coffee, but it’s warm and wet. It’s almost impossible to boil a kettle these days. The gas is so low that there’s barely a flicker.’

‘Thank you anyway, Hannah,’ Pearl said hastily. ‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’ She passed a cup to Meg. ‘Drink up, darling, and if it doesn’t poison you, you’ll feel better.’

Meg managed a smile at the feeble joke and drank some of the bitter liquid; it was sweet and she realised that Hannah had used some of their precious
sugar ration to sweeten it. ‘Thank you. This is very good.’

Hannah nodded grimly. ‘Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing.’

‘It’s being so cheerful that keeps her going,’ Pearl said with a chuckle as Hannah left the room. ‘There now, you look a bit better. You’ve got some colour back in your cheeks.’

Meg put her coffee cup back on its saucer. She had a special reason for visiting Pearl but she did not quite know how to broach the subject. ‘I know you do a lot of volunteer work for the Red Cross, Pearl.’

‘Yes, I do. It stops me from going out of my mind with boredom. Why?’

‘I just wondered if you’d heard anything about Rayner. I don’t know if he’s still on the island or if they sent him away.’

Pearl grasped Meg’s hand and her lips curved in an excited smile. ‘I was going to tell you after you’d had time to recover from your long walk. You won’t believe this, darling, but I saw him yesterday.’

Meg closed her eyes as the room spun dizzily. ‘You – you saw him?’

‘Are you all right? You’re not going to pass out or anything like that are you, Meg?’

The anxious note in Pearl’s voice made Meg struggle for self-control and she nodded. ‘I’m fine. But how did he look? Where did you see him?’

‘I happened to be on the quay helping to load Red Cross parcels onto a farm cart and he was standing in
a line of men waiting to get on a ship. He must have heard Mrs Gallienne calling to me. She wanted me to run an errand for her, the lazy old cow …’

Meg raised an impatient hand. ‘What happened then? Did you speak to him?’

‘He asked me if I was Pearl Tostevin, and when I said I was he asked if I would give you a message.’

‘Don’t keep me in suspense. What did he say?’

‘He said “Folly Bridge.” Honestly, darling, that’s all he said, and anyway there was a horrid-looking German sergeant poking him in the back and making him move on up the gangplank with the others.’

‘Folly Bridge,’ Meg repeated slowly.

‘Does that mean something to you?’

‘It means everything. Are you sure he didn’t say anything else?’

‘He didn’t have a chance.’

‘Where were they taking him?’

‘Darling, if I knew that I’d be Mata blooming Hari. At least you know he’s still alive.’

‘Yes,’ Meg murmured, as the reality of his situation hit her with full force. ‘But for how long?’

Even though he was far away from her, the knowledge that Rayner was alive and well kept Meg going through the long, dark winter days. It gave her the courage to go on and helped her to be patient when the family looked to her for comfort and guidance. Life was simplified into a daily struggle to find enough food to eat and fuel of any kind to make the
smallest amount of heat needed to survive. Charles was confined to bed and at times was so ill that Meg thought he was going to die, but somehow he managed to keep his tenacious hold on life and as the spring sunshine brought a fine mist of green to the trees he began a slow recovery that Meg thought little short of a miracle.

She had come to an unspoken truce with Gerald and it was a relief to have him as a friend and ally in their uncertain world. He seemed to have accepted the fact that there was not, and never could be, any chance of a romance between them. Meg never spoke about Rayner to anyone other than Pearl, but that didn’t stop her thinking about him constantly. She wore his necklace like a talisman, never taking it off even at night.

As the tender green leaves unfurled and the cherry blossom opened in a cloudburst of pink, a surge of optimism filled the air as rumours circulated that the Allies were close to invading France. Pip’s crystal set had kept them in touch with the outside world during the long winter and now, with the hope that the end of the war might be getting nearer, there was for the first time in four years a low-grade buzz of excitement rippling through the long food queues. Meg saw haggard faces beginning to smile again.

It was with renewed optimism that she set out one morning with the permit that allowed her to go into St Peter Port safely tucked in her handbag together with the shopping list that Marie had given her more
in hope than expectation. Halfway down the drive she stopped to take off her shoe and shake out a piece of gravel. She grimaced as she slipped it back on. The leather was scuffed and not so long ago the shoes would have been consigned to the dustbin, but just when she had thought them past repair, Gerald had given them a new lease of life by sewing on soles cut from an old rubber tyre. Although each step felt odd and strangely springy, it was far more comfortable than walking on lumps of matted cardboard. She set off again and had just reached the gates when Nordhausen sprang out from the stand of Spanish oaks and caught her by the arm.

‘Let me go.’ Anger replaced fear as she attempted to free herself. ‘How dare you jump out on me like that?’

He grinned. ‘You have such spirit. I love a woman with fire.’

‘Let me go, Captain Nordhausen. I have a permit to go into St Peter Port signed by Major von Eschenberg himself.’

He released her with a casual flick of his wrist. ‘I find it very interesting that you spend so much time in town. Surely there is not much there for a lady like you. Now if it was Simone LeFevre then I could understand it, but you, Fräulein Meg, what do you do in St Peter Port all by yourself? Do you go there to meet someone? Perhaps your brother?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not a patient man and I tire of the games you
play. Meet me tonight at eight o’clock, by the lake.’

‘You’re mad.’ Meg’s stomach contracted with fear. ‘Why would I want to have anything to do with you?’

‘Captain Weiss is no longer here to protect you, Fräulein. Either you do as I say or I tell the major that David Colivet is really Gerald LeFevre. As you know, I could have done that some time ago, but I enjoy seeing you both suffer.’

‘I won’t do it.’

‘You have no choice. I was instrumental in sending Captain Weiss to the Russian front. Think what I might do for Herr LeFevre. Eight o’clock.’ Nordhausen strolled away with his hands clasped behind his back.

Meg wished she had a weapon – a gun, anything. At this moment she could have committed murder in cold blood and not turned a hair.

After a meagre supper that barely satisfied her hunger, Meg sat on the window seat in the parlour staring out into the garden. All day Nordhausen’s words had haunted her but she was no nearer to finding a solution to her problem. His intentions were perfectly clear, as was the threat to Gerald. If Nordhausen denounced him it would be a death sentence. She glanced around the room. Whatever she decided would inevitably have consequences for her family. They knew nothing of the turmoil within her or the choice that she was being forced to make. Maud sat at the table, darning
one of Pip’s socks. She had to hold the work close to her eyes as her sight had deteriorated, and she was in desperate need of new spectacles. Bertrand and Charles dozed in armchairs on either side of the fireplace, their chins resting on their chests and soft snores emanating from each one in turn. Gerald was in the kitchen helping his mother with the dishes and Jane had taken Jeremy upstairs to put him to bed in the cot that was now permanently in her room. Pip was off somewhere, probably listening to his crystal set.

‘Care for a walk, Meg?’

She turned her head with a start. She had not realised that Gerald had returned and was standing at her side. ‘Sorry. I was miles away.’

‘Obviously. I’ve asked you the same question twice.’

‘What did you want to know?’

‘I asked you if you wanted to go for a walk before curfew. It’s a lovely evening.’

She glanced at her watch and was shocked to see that it was almost eight o’clock. ‘No. I mean, no thanks. I’ve just remembered I’ve got things to do.’ She leapt to her feet and hurried from the room.

Gerald followed her. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me. I know you too well, Meg. You can’t hide anything from me.’

‘It’s my problem, not yours. I’ve got to do this on my own.’

‘What have you got to do?’ He grabbed her by the arm.

‘Let me go. It’s none of your business.’

‘If you won’t tell me then I’m coming with you.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘It’s Nordhausen, isn’t it? He’s been bothering you again?’

‘I can handle him.’

‘If you think that then you’re a simpleton. He’s ten times worse than Grulich. What has he said to you?’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Do as you please.’ Meg shook off his restraining hand and hurried through the maze of passages to the kitchen, ignoring Marie’s demand to know where they were going. Gerald was close behind her but she waited until they were out in the stable yard before turning to face him. ‘Go back in the house. I’m begging you not to ask me any questions, just do as I ask and let me sort this thing out my way.’

He stared at her, his expressive eyes filled with anxiety. ‘I can’t let you do this, Meg. If you’re going to meet Nordhausen at least let me go with you.’

‘No. You’ve got to trust me. I know what I’m doing. If you insist on following me you’ll put us all in danger.’ She could see that this last desperate plea had struck home. She turned her back on him holding up her hand as she walked resolutely onwards. She dared not look over her shoulder, but she sensed that he was standing where she had left him, staring after her. She could feel his eyes on her back but she squared her shoulders and hurried on towards the lake.

The aquamarine sky was bruised with crimson and black as the sun plunged like a fireball towards the horizon. The sound of voices and laughter coming from the soldiers’ quarters faded into the distance as she approached the ruins of the summerhouse. A faint smell of cigarette smoke was the only sign that Nordhausen was somewhere near and he stepped out from behind a clump of budding hydrangeas. His face was hidden in shadow and Meg felt a frisson of fear run down her spine, but she held her head high.