We'll Meet Again (9 page)

‘Oh, shut up,’ Meg said, swallowing a lump in her throat. ‘You’ll have me crying in a moment. Go and get your man, Adele Colivet.’

They had to wait while the vessel moored alongside allowing the passengers to disembark and make
their way through the customs hall, but eventually Frank emerged from the building looking immaculate in a striped blazer and Oxford bags. In his hand he carried a pigskin valise and an enormous bouquet of red roses. Walter followed close on his heels, holding a sorry-looking cardboard suitcase bound by a length of cord.

‘Adele! You look beautiful.’ Frank dropped his valise and presented her with the flowers. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it with old-fashioned gallantry.

Meg smiled. She would not have been surprised if he had swept Adele into his arms and kissed her passionately. Adele was blushing and seemed quite overcome with emotion.

Walter coughed delicately. ‘Hello, Meg. It’s good to see you again.’

She shook his hand. ‘And you, Walter. Did you have a good crossing?’

‘Excellent. The weather was perfect and the sea calm as a mill pond, which was a relief as I’m not a very good sailor.’ He matched his steps to hers as they walked along White Rock towards the car park, with Adele and Frank strolling behind them, arm in arm.

Walter gave Meg a searching look. ‘I was sorry you had to leave sooner than you’d planned. How are you really?’

‘I’m fine, but wish I hadn’t made a mess of things in Oxford.’

‘It wasn’t all your fault, Meg. Rayner should have known better.’

‘I could have refused to drive the wretched car. Anyway, I’m just sorry I spoilt things for Addie.’

Walter glanced over his shoulder at Adele and Frank, who were deep in conversation and holding hands. ‘They seem to have survived,’ he said, grinning.

‘Thank goodness for that.’ Meg stopped as they reached the car park where Eric sat patiently behind the wheel of the old Bentley. She waved to him and he responded with a smile as he opened the door and stood up to take Walter’s case and stow it in the boot.

‘We’re going to drop you off at your hotel,’ Meg said as she took the front passenger seat while the others settled themselves in the back. ‘Mother’s invited you both to dinner this evening. Eric will pick you up at seven.’

It was a short drive to the hotel in town and they left Frank and Walter to check in at reception. Meg shot a sideways glance at Eric as he restarted the engine. ‘Have you heard from Gerald lately?’

His weather-beaten features creased into a smile. ‘We had a letter last week.’

‘Did he tell you we met on the cross-Channel ferry?’

‘He did.’

Meg relaxed against the leather seat. She was always completely at her ease with Eric, who had been more like a favourite uncle to her while she was
growing up than one of her father’s employees. ‘D’you know, Eric, it was really strange, considering the fact that we live on a small island, but we realised that we hadn’t seen each other to speak to for years. It’s even odder because I can remember a time when he and David were always together.’

‘Gerald did well at school, and now he works even harder at his job in London.’

‘He’s done very well for himself.’

Eric smiled and nodded. ‘Yes. I’m proud of the boy.’

‘He wouldn’t thank you for calling him a boy.’

‘He’ll always be a boy to me. That’s how it is when you’re a parent, Meg. You always think of your children as being young, even when they’re grown-up.’

‘I’ll have to take your word for that.’ Meg turned in her seat to look at Adele, who was still clutching her bouquet of red roses. ‘I hope Frank’s prepared to face Father tonight, Addie. Mind you, it will be Mother who puts him through the third degree. I don’t envy him that.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Adele said happily. ‘He’s a born diplomat. He’ll have Mother eating out of his hand.’

Frank had been in the study with Charles for an agonising half-hour, during which time Adele paced up and down the Aubusson carpet in the drawing room until Muriel complained that she was wearing it out. Glancing at Walter, Meg realised that he was
looking slightly uncomfortable. The tense atmosphere was affecting them all and she offered to give him a conducted tour of the house. He needed no second bidding.

They began in the tapestry room, where the hangings had been made in Flanders and were at least two hundred years old, maybe more. History was not Meg’s strong point, but she made up for her lack of knowledge by revealing the dirty deeds of the Colivets’ privateering ancestors on which the family fortune was based. Although, she hastened to add, there was not much left of it now as he could see by the sad state of the decoration in some of the rooms least used. When they reached the attics Meg showed him the damp patches on the walls where the roof leaked, and the ill-fitting windows that rattled and shook during storms, giving the impression that the house was haunted. No one used this floor nowadays, but years ago before the Great War it was where the servants had slept. They arrived back in the drawing room in time to hear that Charles had given Adele and Frank his blessing and they were now officially engaged.

Next morning Eric drove Adele and Frank into town to buy the ring. Meg took Walter to Fermain Bay where they swam in the crystal-clear water and dried off lazing on the beach in the sunshine. After a leisurely stroll back to the house they were reclining on steamer chairs on the terrace when Adele and Frank returned.

Adele waved her left hand beneath Meg’s nose. ‘What do you think?’

Meg pretended to shield her eyes. ‘It’s gorgeous, Addie, but it’s blinding me.’

‘It’s smashing,’ Walter said dutifully. ‘Well done, Frank.’

‘I’m going to show it to Mother,’ Adele said happily. ‘Are you coming, darling?’

With a benevolent smile, Frank tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Of course, my love.’

Meg watched them go with a heartfelt sigh. She was pleased that Adele had found the man of her dreams, but their closeness only made her loss seem the greater. The stupid escapade at the May Ball and the threat of war had destroyed any chance she might have had of seeing Rayner again. She lay back on the cushions and closed her eyes. No matter how much she suffered in private, life would go on as usual. Nothing ever changed on the island.

As the days went by Meg found herself almost solely responsible for entertaining Walter. Frank seemed to have become Adele’s latest fashion accessory to be exhibited at so many social functions that Meg began to suspect her mother had had the itinerary drawn up for months ahead, if not years. But good-natured Frank appeared to take everything in his stride, and did not seem to mind attending all the parties that were suddenly announced in his honour. Meg did not accompany them on any of these occasions. She
had always been considered too young to join the smart set at the tennis club or the get-togethers where Addie’s old school friend, Pearl Tostevin, entertained in style. According to Addie, these gatherings in the large drawing room of the house on the Grange owned by Pearl’s parents were the height of sophistication. All the young women wore designer gowns, smoked Balkan Sobranie cocktail cigarettes and danced to records of jazz music played on the gramophone. Meg had always thought privately that it sounded boring in the extreme, but she never said so. In fact, now she was that bit older, she might have enjoyed taking Walter to one of their dos, but it seemed that she was still thought to be too juvenile to be invited.

As the visit drew to its end, Meg experienced a feeling of relief. It was not that she disliked Walter; on the contrary, he was sweet and kind and eager to please, but if she were to be completely honest she found him a bit dull. She had shown him all the places popular with visitors, treating it at first as a chore, but gradually she had come to realise that seeing Guernsey through a stranger’s eyes had made her think differently about things she had taken so much for granted. Walter’s unstinting delight in the narrow twisting lanes, the wide sweeps of pale golden sand, the pink rocks at Cobo and the pine forests above Marble Bay had touched a chord in her. She had not known it until now, but she loved the island with every fibre of her being.

In the end, Meg was quite sorry to wave goodbye to Walter at the ferry terminal. Adele sobbed on her shoulder as she fluttered her hanky at the departing vessel, but cheered up a little when Meg suggested that she ought to go home and begin compiling the guest list for her engagement party. Meg gave her a hug. ‘Dry your eyes, Addie. Frank will be back when the summer term ends, and you’ve got an awful lot to do before then. There’s the do to organise, and if you’re planning to get married next spring you’ll have your trousseau to buy, and endless fittings at the dressmaker’s. You won’t have time to miss Frank.’

Adele blew her nose into the tiny scrap of cotton edged with lace. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ve got heaps to keep me occupied. Isn’t life wonderful?’

The weeks might have passed quickly for Adele, as Meg had predicted, but for Meg herself the days seemed interminably long. She was not included in the shopping trips to St Peter Port. Muriel and Adele went on these forays together, and although Adele sometimes offered a half-hearted invitation to join them, Meg always declined. She might have been tempted, but her mother made it plain that she was more a hindrance than a help, and shopping for clothes was not her thing. Neither was attending the dressmaker’s for fittings, which entailed standing for hours in a cold room semi-naked while Mrs Vaudin, with even colder fingers, stuck the occasional pin into her flesh.

Meg spent most of the long, hot summer days riding her horse about the countryside or going to the beach, where she swam and sunbathed until her skin was tanned to a golden brown and her hair bleached to silvery blonde. She was not needed on the farm as there were enough seasonal workers to help with the hay harvest and in the greenhouse. Eric had no need of her in the estate office and her time was her own. On occasions she was lonely and, more often than not, bored. She thought more and more about having a career of her own, but every time she raised the subject with her father he told her she was too young to leave home, and advised her to enjoy her freedom. Many, he said, would think she was an extremely fortunate young woman to have everything she wanted without having to work for her living.

The engagement party was arranged for the first week in July and eventually Meg was asked to help. She was allotted the task of picking and arranging a variety of flowers from the gardens. It was not an onerous chore, but she felt that it was just another ploy to keep her gainfully occupied and out of Mother’s way. She was placing an arrangement of tall blue irises on the piano in the drawing room when Adele came through the door, flushed and obviously bursting with news. ‘Guess what, Meg?’

‘Mr Chamberlain has asked you to go to Germany and sort out Hitler.’

‘No, of course not, silly.’

‘Don’t be facetious, Meg,’ Muriel said, looking up
from the escritoire where she had been checking off items on a list. ‘What is it, Addie?’

‘It’s a letter from Angela Barton, Frank’s mother. She’s invited me to spend a whole month with them in their holiday home on the Devon coast, that’s all.’

Muriel dropped her pen with a gasp of delight. ‘How splendid! When?’

‘Next week. After our engagement party. She says that Frank’s father has an important business meeting in Paris and she regrets that they won’t be able to attend, but Frank will be here of course, and then I’ll travel back to Weymouth with him. We’ll motor down to Devon in the Rolls.’

‘Oh dear,’ Muriel said, frowning. ‘That doesn’t give Mrs Vaudin much time to finish your new gowns. I’ll phone her. No. On second thoughts we’d better go and see her this afternoon, and if there’s any fitting to be done she can do it there and then.’

‘And I must ring Pearl and tell her. She’ll be so excited for me, and probably green with envy too. I’m afraid that boyfriend of hers is never going to pop the question.’

Realising that she was again excluded from this frenzy of activity, Meg made for the door.

‘Not so fast, young lady.’ Muriel rose from the desk, shaking out her silk skirts.

‘Yes, Mother?’

‘I have some errands I want you to run in St Peter Port. Eric can drop you off when he takes us to Mrs Vaudin’s house.’

‘Can’t Marie do it, Mother? I haven’t finished doing the flowers.’

‘No. I can’t spare Marie. She’s busy in the kitchen baking cakes for the party on Saturday. Anyway, the rest of the blooms will be better picked in the morning before the sun makes them droop. I’ve written a list of things I need.’ She waved a piece of paper at Meg.

‘All right then.’ Meg crossed the floor to take the list. ‘If I must.’

It had not been too bad after all. Meg leaned over the railings gazing down at the craft moored in the marina. Sunlight danced on the water and seagulls made lazy circles in the sky above her head. She had left the shopping lists with the grocer, the greengrocer and the baker, and had purchased cotton thread and elastic from Creaseys. Now all she had to do was to wait for Eric to collect her and take her home.

‘Hello, Meg.’

She spun round. ‘Gerald. This is becoming a habit. It’s good to see you again.’

‘I thought I’d come home for the weekend and see my folks.’

‘They’ll be pleased.’

‘They don’t know I’m coming. I thought I’d give them a surprise.’

‘You’ll do that all right and sooner than you think,’ Meg said, smiling as she spotted the Bentley gliding towards them.

It slid to a halt and Eric leapt out, his face almost split in two by a broad grin. ‘Hello, son. What are you doing here?’ His smile faded. ‘You haven’t had the sack, have you?’

‘No, Dad. I just fancied a break from London. It gets hot and stuffy in the city at this time of year. I needed to come home and breathe the fresh air.’

‘Your mum will be thrilled to bits to see you when she finishes work.’ Eric opened the rear door. ‘Get in, Miss Meg. I’ll see you at home later, son.’

Meg hesitated with one foot on the running board. ‘Why don’t you come home with us, Gerald?’