We'll Meet Again (33 page)

Outside her father’s bedroom, Meg hesitated, bracing herself for the awful task of passing on the terrible news. In those few silent moments she made up her mind that, no matter how long the war lasted, she would never again have anything to do with the enemy.

Grief settled in a heavy cumulus cloud over the whole household. Even little Jeremy seemed to sense that something was very wrong. Everyone, it seemed to Meg, had been fond of Gerald in their own way, but Marie’s grieving was more dreadful in its heartbroken silence than any amount of weeping and wailing. Charles absented himself from home on the excuse of attending meetings of the controlling committee, and for once Maud and Bertrand hushed their argumentative voices. Even Nordhausen left them all alone.

Gerald’s coffin was brought back to Colivet Manor on a gun carriage covered in a Union flag. Meg was certain that Rayner had ordered this outward demonstration of respect but she could not allow herself to weaken in her resolve. Loving the enemy had brought nothing but pain and suffering. Simone had already been down that path and Meg was determined not to follow.

The funeral took place quietly in the church at St Martin’s where Gerald was to be, at Marie’s request, buried alongside Eric instead of in the Colivet family plot. Charles had argued about this, urging Meg to back him in his wish for his son to be buried with his forebears, but Meg had sided with Marie. She knew that Eric had loved Gerald as dearly as if he had been his own son, and it seemed right that they should rest for eternity side by side. She was touched and surprised by the number of people who came to the simple ceremony. Billy and Joe and their wives were there, of course, but people came from cottages and farms all around to pay their respects. They were mostly elderly folk who shambled up the narrow path into the church, shabbily dressed but proud to honour one of their island men.

Pearl arrived in an ancient governess cart borrowed from a neighbour and drawn by an even more elderly donkey that looked as though it should have been put out to pasture long ago. She flung her arms around Meg, her face wet with unashamed tears.

‘Meg, darling. I’m so very sorry. Mummy and Daddy send their deepest condolences. Oh God – what do you say on a bloody awful occasion like this?’

Meg, who up until then had remained dry-eyed, found tears coursing down her own cheeks. She hugged Pearl but she froze as she saw Rayner walking through the gate into the churchyard.

Pearl released her, looking puzzled. She turned her head, following Meg’s gaze.

‘How dare he come?’ Meg muttered through clenched teeth. ‘This is for friends and family only.’

Pearl gripped her hand tightly. ‘Don’t make a scene, darling. It’s not his fault; you know that. It’s grief talking. He’s not a bad man.’

Meg turned her back on Rayner. ‘He’s a German, isn’t he? They’re all in it together.’

‘Come inside,’ Pearl said, guiding Meg towards the doorway. ‘Your family need you now. Nothing else matters today.’

The family clustered around Meg like defeated soldiers rallying to the standard as she stood fighting back tears as Gerald’s remains were lowered into the ground. Simone and Marie leaned on each other, sobbing. Meg held her father’s cold hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze as she felt him tremble when the clods of earth fell on the cheap pine coffin. Maud wept softly behind a long black veil and Bertrand sniffled, blowing his nose loudly every so often and clearing his throat. Jane was absent, having elected to stay behind to look after Jeremy, and Pip had shuffled off somewhere on his own, mumbling an excuse. Pearl and Rayner stood together on the far side of the grave. Pearl mopped her eyes with a fragment of lace handkerchief and tossed a small bunch of garden flowers onto the coffin. Rayner
stood with head bowed, gripping his peaked hat in his hands, his knuckles showing white beneath his skin. When the short ceremony ended, he looked up and met Meg’s eyes for a few seconds. There was no mistaking the sadness or the silent entreaty in them, and she felt a tug of regret together with the desperate need to forgive him, but one look at the coffin in its lonely grave made her harden her heart. As long as the war went on and as long as the Germans occupied her home and the island, she knew that she could not, must not, let Rayner back into her life. She lowered her gaze and turned away, tucking her hand through her father’s arm as they led the way down the path.

Pearl caught up with them as they reached the churchyard gate. ‘Be brave, darling. I miss him too.’

‘I know you do. You and your family were wonderful to Gerald when he was with you.’ Meg bit her lip as tears threatened to flow again.

Pearl squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ She pointed at Rayner who had remained at the graveside, allowing everyone to leave ahead of him. ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Meg. You loved him once.’

Meg turned away. ‘They killed my brother.’

Back at the house, the family gathered in the parlour for a cup of tea made from wild herbs and some biscuits. The tea was more like hot water without the addition of milk and sugar and the biscuits were like
small paving stones, but everyone drank and nibbled politely; food was food and no one was going to quibble about the taste or texture.

‘I can’t make a speech,’ Charles said, sinking down on the only armchair that remained in the room. ‘I’ve lost a son whom I loved but didn’t have the courage to acknowledge until it was almost too late, and that is something I am going to have to live with for the rest of my life.’

‘Don’t, Pa,’ Meg said softly. ‘You did what you thought was right. Gerald understood that.’

‘My boy. My son.’ Marie gave way to a flood of tears.

Simone helped her to a chair. ‘Don’t, Mum.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Marie gulped and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I wonder if you’d be as upset if anything happened to me?’ Simone said with a bitter note creeping into her voice. ‘No, I don’t think so. Gerald was always the favourite. But then he was a Colivet and I’m just a LeFevre.’

‘Stop it,’ Meg said in a low voice. ‘Don’t you ever think of anyone other than yourself?’

‘You’ve got your son,’ Marie said, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief that Maud passed to her. ‘You’ve got little Jeremy.’

Simone glanced at the baby cradled in Jane’s arms. ‘He’s better off here. I can’t look after a child. I never wanted to have a baby. I’m just not the maternal type.’

‘Shame on you,’ Jane cried, cuddling Jeremy and kissing his chubby cheek.

Meg studied Simone’s face and realised with a sense of shock that this was not just another tantrum. ‘What are you saying, Simone?’

‘I’ve got a good job and a steady young man now. No, not a German, he’s one of us. When the war is over, which Derek says will be soon, we’re going to the mainland where he’s got business contacts.’

‘Who is this man?’ Marie stared at her in astonishment. ‘You’ve never mentioned him.’

‘Derek Lussac. You don’t know him.’

‘I do.’ Charles raised his head, showing a sudden interest in the conversation. ‘He’s a damned black marketeer.’

Simone tossed her head. ‘So what? You’re not my father, Mr Colivet. You can’t tell me what to do or not to do. Derek loves me and he’s got money. We’ll do very well in London. He says there’ll be plenty of opportunities for an enterprising chap after the war.’

‘But Jeremy,’ Meg said, aghast. ‘You can’t just abandon him.’

‘Can’t I? I thought I already had.’

‘You’re not fit to have a child.’ Jane covered the baby’s ears as though Jeremy could understand what was being said.

‘I won’t argue with that,’ Simone said with a careless shrug of her shoulders. ‘And you’ve taken such a shine to the little chap it would seem cruel to take him away from you.’

‘Simone, you can’t do this,’ Marie said in a shocked voice.

Charles reached out to hold her hand. ‘Have you thought this through, Simone?’

She turned to face him, bristling with defiance. ‘You’ve lost a son. I’m giving you mine. Jeremy will be better off brought up as a Colivet, and Derek isn’t interested in kids.’

‘You’re a heartless hussy,’ Maud said, shaking her head. ‘The little chap will be much better off without you.’

Bertrand coughed behind his hand. ‘Steady on, Maud, old girl.’

‘I’m not arguing,’ Simone said, reaching for her jacket. ‘So it’s settled then?’

Charles rose to his feet. ‘I’ll get the adoption papers drawn up, if that’s what you really want.’

‘That’s what I want.’ Simone went to the window and looked out. ‘Got to go. I don’t suppose I’ll be seeing much of you from now on.’ She dropped a kiss on her mother’s forehead. ‘Bye, Mum. I’m sorry I’ve never been the sort of daughter you wanted, but then you had Gerald, didn’t you? For a while at least.’

Meg met Simone’s eyes and saw a brief reflection of the other Simone, the courageous girl who had risked her life helping the saboteurs and used her charms to extract information from the enemy. She was shocked that she could abandon her child but she knew instinctively that it was not as painless as
Simone wanted them to believe. She held out her hand. ‘Keep in touch when you can, and good luck.’

Simone met her eyes with a flicker of understanding. ‘Thanks.’ She shrugged herself into her jacket and hurried from the room.

Maud ran to the window and peered out into the hazy September sunlight. ‘Would you believe it? He’s down there waiting for her in a car.’

Jane craned her neck, peering over her mother’s shoulder. ‘Only a black marketeer could still afford to run a car, even a little one like that. That girl will come to no good, you’ll see.’

Meg slipped quietly from the room. She left the house through the scullery door and walked until she came to the edge of the north woods, where she collapsed onto a broken stile. The hazy sun warmed the field of stubble where only recently she had helped Gerald harvest a crop of barley. The hedgerows were berried with red hawthorn and orange rosehips and there was already the faint hint of autumn chill in the late afternoon air. A mist crept slowly from the sea, curling like beckoning fingers through the trunks of the trees. She felt a deep sense of sadness and the gnawing pain of loss, not only for Gerald but for Rayner and the love that had blossomed in that far off May time and had withered now like the leaves that were falling softly all around her. The winter was coming with no sign of an end to the war despite the Allied victories that they heard of on Pip’s crystal set.

As the autumn gave way to a bitterly cold start to the winter, survival became the only major factor of day-to-day life. Getting enough food to keep them alive and enough fuel to heat even a kettle of water became the main task of each long and dreary day. Rations were reduced and supplies of gas had ended in September with electricity due to be cut off at the end of the year. The family listened to the news quite openly on Pip’s crystal set now. Nordhausen had been relocated. Meg neither knew nor cared where he had been sent. The soldiers and officers who remained were quieter now, their former arrogance dulled by hunger and their confidence sapped by reports of German defeats in Europe.

Clustered around the radio receiver every evening, Meg sat with the family listening to the newscaster telling of the terrible V-2 rockets bringing terror and death to London. It was a small comfort to know that Mother, Adele and her twin girls were safe in the heart of the Devonshire countryside, but Red Cross messages had long since stopped coming through and Meg could only hope and pray that all was well with them. Her father and Marie never mentioned Gerald but Meg knew that they grieved silently as she did, and that he was far from forgotten. In October they heard that the British had landed in Greece. In November news filtered through that the RAF had sunk the Germans’ last major warship, the
Tirpitz
, and in December they
heard that the Americans, under the command of General Patton, had reached the Siegfried Line.

Meg watched helplessly as her family suffered from cold and malnutrition. Then, just as morale had sunk to its lowest, the news came through on 7 December that the SS
Vega
had sailed from Lisbon laden with Red Cross parcels for the Channel Islands. Meg prayed that its journey would be fast; she had heard of several elderly neighbours who, on the brink of starvation, had died of cold, and she feared for her father whose already delicate state of health was steadily worsening. Meg missed Gerald more than she would have thought possible. Now she had no one to talk to, no one to share a joke with and no one to squabble with. Until now she had not realised how much she had relied on his quiet strength and dependability. She knew that she would have lost him anyway, had his escape from the island been successful, but at least she would have had the comfort of knowing that he was doing what he wanted to do, and that one day they might meet again. That was impossible now.

Meg was not looking forward to Christmas; no one in the house was in the mood to celebrate. There was no money to buy gifts, and even if there had been the shelves in the few shops that remained open were bare of goods. She was surprised and a little cheered to receive a message from Pearl, delivered by a ragged boy who claimed that he had been paid for
his trouble with a pound of potatoes. Meg hurried to the kitchen and found a small turnip by way of a tip. She scribbled a hasty reply on the back of the note and handed it to the boy with a slice of bread that was to have been her own lunch. He crammed the food into his mouth like a ravenous dog, and scuttled off in the downpour of rain that was rapidly turning to sleet.

On Christmas Eve, Meg wrapped herself in as many clothes as she could pile on without losing the use of her arms and legs, crammed her feet into a pair of her mother’s old suede boots that were two sizes too small and began the long walk to the Grange. She found the Tostevins huddled in the kitchen with Hannah and Buster. They wore their outdoor clothes and the room was in darkness as the gloom of the winter’s afternoon settled on the beleaguered island. Wrapped in blankets, Pearl’s parents dozed in their chairs on either side of the unlit range. Hannah was in the scullery and Meg could see through the open door that she was scrubbing mud off potatoes at the sink. Buster, a thin shadow of his former self, padded up to Meg and licked her hand. His eyes were warm and alive as usual but he moved slowly and his ribs showed through his black coat.