We'll Meet Again (30 page)

‘It’s been a privilege and a pleasure.’

They clapped as the batsman whacked the ball into the lake and set off at a run. ‘Hey, he can’t keep running,’ someone shouted. ‘Fetch another ball.’

‘The lake must be full of balls,’ Prue said. ‘Perhaps they’ll drain it after the war. I wonder what else they’ll find. Do you think this place will still be here then?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. I expect it will be dismantled and all its secrets buried in people’s memories.’

‘But one day we will all die. Surely something will live on.’

‘The bombes perhaps, and that Colossus that Turing is building. I can see that having some use in peacetime.’

‘Do you think the war will be over soon?’

‘No telling, is there? But you know as well as anyone how it’s going.’

‘Invasion, somewhere in France and then Germany will collapse and Gillie will come home. If he manages to live that long.’

‘Hey, don’t be so pessimistic.’

‘Sorry.’ She took his arm as they strolled away, leaving the players arguing. ‘When it’s all over and Gillie comes home, I am going to throw the biggest party ever.’

‘And will I be invited?’

‘Of course. How can you doubt it? You have been my prop these last few weeks. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

‘I would like it always to be like that,’ he murmured.

She deliberately chose to misunderstand him. ‘I have to learn to stand on my own two feet sooner or later.’

‘You are making a pretty good fist of it now.’

‘Let’s go to the pictures,’ she said, not quite sure she wanted to delve too deeply into her feelings for him or his for her. But she didn’t want to lose him. ‘Sheila has gone off to meet her brother. She thought he had died when her parents were killed but he’s alive and well.’

‘Are you hoping …’ He left the end of the question unfinished, but she knew what he meant.

‘No. Tim is dead. Esme is sure of it.’

They went to the Studio and saw Ingrid Bergman in
For Whom the Bell Tolls,
a dramatic story of the Spanish Civil War, which in many people’s eyes was a foretaste on the war they were fighting against Hitler.

It was late when he took her home. ‘They’ll be in bed,’ she said, referring to Constance and Sheila. ‘I won’t ask you in.’

He dropped a kiss on her cheek and left her. The cloud which had been hanging over her for weeks had lifted and she felt alive again. She had Hugh and Sheila to thank for that. Sheila because she understood better than anyone and Hugh because she knew he loved her.

Sheila had gone to bed but she didn’t wake her. There was time enough to hear about her meeting with Charlie tomorrow. There was always a tomorrow.

Plans for Christmas at Longfordham Hall started when Prue wrote to say she would be able to come home for the holiday and, with her parents’ consent, intended to bring Sheila with her. For once, Sheila was not going to be in the Bletchley Park Christmas show.

‘Let’s ask Hugh,’ Chloe said to Marcus when she read the letter. He was reading the newspaper while eating his breakfast and hardly paying attention. The Allied leaders, Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin, had met in Teheran for a conference. The three leaders, so it was reported, had agreed plans for the total destruction of the German forces and nothing less than unconditional surrender would do. It looked as though the long-heralded Second Front was imminent, though none except those planning it knew where or when it would take place.

He did not doubt there would be more fighting, more loss of life, more injuries and partings, before the war was won, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it would end in victory for the Allies. After that there would be all the rebuilding, not only of tangible structures like houses, factories and roads, but of people’s
lives. Some would never be rebuilt, not as they were. He even doubted that Longfordham Hall would survive as it had done for centuries. The upkeep was getting beyond him. He said nothing of this to his wife, though he did not think she was foolish enough to believe everything would go back to being what it was before the war.

‘Why not?’ he murmured. ‘Invite whomever you like.’

‘Then let’s have a proper house party.’ Hosting parties had always been her forte and one she had missed since the start of the war.

‘Shouldn’t you wait until hostilities are over?’

‘No. Nanny Bright told me I should soon hear some very good news. Worth celebrating, she said.’

‘You shouldn’t take any notice of her funny sayings, Chloe. She likes to pretend she can see into the future, but you know she can’t. No one can.’

She sighed. ‘I know, but Prue is coming home for Christmas and that’s good news, isn’t it? And she seems to have got over Tim, even though they had split up before he was shot down and nothing might have come of it. Besides, a party will brighten everyone up.’

‘Very well. Go ahead if that’s what you want.’

She set to work at once, making a guest list that could not have been more different from the lists she had prepared pre-war. Instead of just their upper-class friends, she mixed everyone up. Besides Hugh, there was Esme, Sheila, Sheila’s brother and his new wife, Mrs Constance Tranter, Major Norton, Captain Johnnie Howard and his crew from the aerodrome, though thankfully they would not need to be provided with beds. Marcus laughed when he saw it. ‘What on earth are you going to do with that lot?’

‘I am going to do nothing but feed them and give them beds.’

‘But will they mix?’

‘Marcus, if I have learnt one thing from this war, it is that people are people; high and low they have the same hopes and dreams and fears as everyone else. We don’t live in an ivory castle. Hugh is not exactly the man we would have chosen for our daughter, nor, come to that, would we think of Esme as a viscountess. But it’s going to happen. We must adapt.’

That made him laugh. He had only a day or two before been wondering how she would cope with a post-war world when a title did not automatically command respect. He might have known she would think it out for herself. ‘Has Prue told you she’s going to marry Hugh?’

‘Not exactly, but I can see the way the wind is blowing. Give them time.’

‘And Sheila and her brother?’

‘They deserve a treat. They have both been through the mill, and Prue is right, Sheila is a very special person.’

‘But Mrs Tranter? Chloe, isn’t that going a bit far?’

She laughed. ‘I’ve heard Prue and Sheila talking about her and I’m curious. Besides, she’s Johnnie’s mother.’

‘On your own head be it. I hope you can feed them all.’

‘Major Norton will help with the food, I’m sure, but we can’t do it without staff. I’ll ask some of the villagers if they will help out with the catering and looking after the bedrooms. Mr and Mrs Potts and Mrs Burrows will come, I know. I’d ask Mrs Stevens but I’m not sure she has forgiven you for Bill, yet. On the other hand, she might take it as a slight if she wasn’t asked.’

‘Be your diplomatic self, my dear. It would be nice to be forgiven.’

‘Then I’ll speak to her.’

‘It seems I am not needed.’

‘Oh, yes you are. Don’t think you can get away with disappearing
off to your Home Guard. You will need to organise the drinks and the cutting down of a Christmas tree and perhaps a bit of shooting on Boxing Day. The men will enjoy that.’

‘Very well. I’ll ask Burrows about the game. He’ll have a few pheasants fattening somewhere.’

She stood up and went over to where he sat and bent to put her arms about him from behind. ‘You are a good sport,’ she said, rubbing her cheek against his. ‘I love you as much as I ever did, more if that is possible.’

He grinned with pleasure. ‘And I you, my dear.’

She was in her element and by Christmas Eve everything was ready for the arrival of their guests. The food had been prepared, the beds made and towels and plenty of hot water made available. The reception rooms and the dining room had been decorated with holly and mistletoe and paper chains and the six-foot tree in the hall was ablaze with candles and trinkets. The Americans were used to coming and going and even though they had already provided much of the fare, they arrived with yet more. As far as they were concerned, the thick fog was fortuitous because they could not fly, but it might delay people coming from further afield.

Tom Green met Prue, Hugh, Sheila and Constance off the train with the pony and trap in the afternoon before it came down really heavily. He turned round almost immediately and went back for Esme.

Sheila had learnt a lot about deportment and poise, along with stagecraft over the years and she was no longer the gawky girl whom Prue had befriended. She could hold her own. It was Constance’s turn to feel overwhelmed and she was as nervous as a kitten but as soon as she saw Johnnie and he came over to give her a hug, she relaxed and was soon talking to his crew. Prue made a point of making Esme welcome and that left Sheila to look out
for her brother. Tom made his last trip to the station and brought Charlie and Bella. Sheila hugged them both and pulled them into the room. They stood a little to one side looking uncomfortable and answering questions in monosyllables until Johnnie came over to them. ‘You must be my cousin, Charlie,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Johnnie. I’m right glad to make your acquaintance.’

Charlie shook his hand. ‘This is Bella, my wife.’

‘Cousin-in-law, Bella, I’m glad to meet you too. Come and talk to the guys.’

Sheila watched them cross the room. Charlie was in a grey suit, white shirt and a pink bow tie and Bella in a skirt and jumper. ‘Does she know we are expected to dress for dinner?’ Prue whispered to her.

‘I doubt it.’

‘When you go up to change, bring her to my room. We’ll find something for her.’

Prue, in her usual diplomatic way, prevailed upon Bella to accept a long blue skirt printed with summer flowers, and a white lace blouse. It was not the height of fashion and not couture made, but simple enough for people to think she had brought it with her. Prue, in cerise silk, and Sheila, in a dove-grey crêpe dress that had cost her fifteen clothing coupons and the same number of guineas, treated the transformation as a fun thing, doing Bella’s hair for her and helping her to make up her face and the end result was a very pretty girl, who had Charlie grinning from ear to ear when he saw her.

They were having sherry in the drawing room prior to dinner when there was a commotion in the hall but before Marcus could go to investigate it, the door was flung open and Gilbert stood looking round at them all. Esme shrieked his name and ran to him, arriving just ahead of the Countess and Prue. ‘What a welcome,’ he said, holding her in his arms. ‘Is the party for me?’

‘It is now,’ Prue said.

The servants were sent to fetch more cutlery and napery to make a new place setting, and everyone began talking at once. ‘Hold hard,’ he said, as Esme gave way to his mother and then Prue. ‘Let me get inside the door.’

Still holding Esme’s hand, he went round everyone, being introduced and shaking them by the hand. His mother was tearful but smiling. His father shook his hand and, deciding that was inadequate, pulled him into a hug. ‘Good to have you home, Son.’

‘The best Christmas present of all,’ his mother added. ‘Nanny Bright was right. It is more than good news, it’s the best ever.’

‘When did you get back?’ Prue asked him, as everyone sat down.

‘Three days ago. I wasn’t let out until I’d been debriefed, so I couldn’t let anyone know.’

‘You said you wouldn’t come home until it was over,’ Esme murmured. Everyone was talking at once and only Prue, sitting on his other side, heard her.

‘I had to. The Duports were all arrested and shot.’

She gasped. ‘Oh, no. Not all of them?’

He nodded. ‘’Fraid so.’

‘Who betrayed them?’

‘I don’t know, a double-dealing spy, Anton’s foolishness or Madame’s insistence on sticking to your cover story, all three perhaps. Everyone else scattered and I was ordered home. They sent an aircraft in to fetch me. It was touch and go.’

‘Oh, Gillie, we brought it on those brave people. I don’t think I can forgive myself.’

‘They knew what they were doing, Esme. Please don’t speak of it to anyone else.’ He looked across at his sister and knew she had heard. ‘Prue, that goes for you too. What happened and how
we escaped has to be kept under wraps because there are people still out there, brave, resourceful people and careless talk could endanger them. I don’t need to tell you that, do I?’

‘Of course you don’t. I know that.’

‘More than we do, I’ll bet.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You’ve been working at Bletchley Park almost from the beginning and you’ve never explained what you do, even when I told you I was going to France. That place is like a fort, no one can get in, so it stands to reason it’s something hush-hush. The fact that Esme met you there when she was going through debriefing confirmed it as far as I am concerned.’

‘And put two and two together and made five. If you must know, I translate reports from German newspapers. Anyone with a smattering of German could do it.’ She had kept quiet about what she did for three years, keeping secrets was second nature to her now.

‘OK, I believe you. Is that what you told Mama?’

‘Yes, but she has met Esme so I expect she has put two and two together. If she has, she has kept very quiet about it.’

‘What are you three whispering about?’ Chloe demanded.

‘Nothing, Mama,’ Prue said. ‘We were just wondering what’s in the parcels under the tree.’

‘That’s a secret. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow and find out.’

Her mother was another of the hundreds, no thousands, of people who had a secret to keep. It made Prue smile.

Ronnie crept out from the bunker and closed the trapdoor, pulling a pile of dead leaves over it. His goods were all safely stowed away. Bicycle parts, tools, candy, tins of Coca-Cola, packets of biscuits, and cigarettes given to him by Johnnie and his pals. There was
even a half bottle of whisky and money in a lockable cash tin which he was saving to run away. He didn’t want to go, but he had to, no one would want to have anything to do with him now his secret was out. He was the lowest of the low. He really should not have told Lady Winterton all that gibberish about his parents. She would make sure he was put into care.

He’d had a bit of that when he was little, but his mother had persuaded the authorities she had turned over a new leaf and he had been allowed to go back to her and his father. Half the time he never went to school and the attendance officer was always calling, knocking on the door at all times of the day. If he and his mother were alone in the house they hid and did not answer. If his father was there, he would go to the door and subject the poor man to a torrent of abuse, which sent him scurrying away and resulting in a beating for him. It was a relief when the old man was sent to prison after being caught red-handed cracking the safe in a factory after beating the caretaker insensible. He went back to school and then the war came and that was his salvation, or it would have been if his father hadn’t escaped from prison and attacked his mother. He was afraid he would come looking for him, which was another reason for disappearing. He had no feelings for either of his parents, but he did have feelings for Auntie Jean and Uncle Cyril and the people up at the big house. It was a pity he was going to have to let them down.

He wasn’t quite ready to go. He had a bicycle half restored that was destined for one of the American airmen and he needed the money from that. And he wanted to have one last Christmas with the Potts before he disappeared from their lives for ever. They were up at the big house helping with a party and he had been left to get his own supper and take himself off to bed. Instead he had put on his coat and scarf and taken a torch to go to the bunker and
retrieve the Christmas presents he had bought for them. There was a pipe rack he had made for Uncle Cyril, Johnnie had helped him make that, and a pair of red felt slippers for Auntie Jean. They weren’t new, new ones needed clothing coupons and she had charge of his, but they were as good as. He tucked them under his arm and emerged onto the driveway, but before he could set off home, someone came up behind him and gripped his arm so tightly, he yelled.

‘Shut up, you little runt.’ The voice was that of his father.

He twisted round to face him. By the feeble light of the torch he saw a man with a rough beard and long, matted hair, but it was undoubtedly the man he feared most in all the world. ‘What do you want?’

‘Food, drink and money, and then we’re both off out of here.’

‘You can go without me. I’m stoppin’ where I am.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told. I reckon there’s plenty to be had up at that big house and they’re all enjoyin’ theirselves, so while they’re at it, you’ll go and get what I want. There’s a nice handy jeep on the drive, that’ll do to get us away.’