We'll Meet Again (13 page)

He said: “I am glad you are here, Violetta. I’ve always had a feeling that you might go back to your parents’ home.”

“I want to be here. If there is news of Jowan, it would come to his grandmother first, I suppose, so I should know at once. Then Dorabella is here … and Tristan, of course. And now there is work for me to do here.”

“We’ve been through some bad times, Violetta.”

“We have indeed. Gordon, how is your mother? Is there any change?”

“No … not really. Some days she is better than others. I think she will not change. And if she did recover her sanity, she would remember what she had done … and what she had tried to do to that child. It doesn’t really bear thinking of.”

His hand was lying on the table and I reached over and touched it. His grasped mine firmly.

“You understand, Violetta. You more than any.”

“I should not have mentioned it.”

“It makes no difference. It is there all the time, whether one mentions it or not.”

“And you come here regularly. We should have gone to another town … not Bodmin.”

“Well, this is the nearest and we must not let these things affect us. They are part of one’s life.”

He changed the subject. “What do you think of Captain Brent?”

“Oh … a charming man.”

“I mean this business of visiting men at the Priory?”

“Well, I suppose they feel it is necessary. They have been through terrible experiences and the doctors are not sure whether or not they need some psychiatric treatment.”

“I think there is something else.”

“Such as what?”

“I think we may be under suspicion.”

“Suspicion?”

“Those lights were said to be flashing out to sea. It is very possible that they were lightning, but they were noticed and rumors have grown up. Everything, however remote, would have to be investigated. Think of the position we are in! Hitler has been shown that our air forces are not to be lightly set aside and invasion does not seem imminent, as it did some little time ago, and this would not be the time of year to attempt such an undertaking. But we must still be watchful.”

“You are saying that they suspect someone in our neighborhood of sending signals to the enemy?”

“I suppose it’s a possibility.”

“What message could they send?”

“All sorts of information could be useful to the enemy. Positions of factories … news about shipping …”

“How could someone here know about shipping?”

“It might be someone who is in touch with others. There must be spies all over the country … planted before the war, some of them. That sort of thing goes on, you know.”

“It sounds fantastic.”

“We live in fantastic times. The idea has come to me that Captain Brent is here to watch. I saw him on the cliffs the other day. He was looking at the countryside through his binoculars. I can’t help feeling that his mission is not merely looking after those wounded soldiers, but something else as well.”

“But why look for trouble at the Priory?”

“I wondered … because of Gretchen, perhaps.”

“Oh, no, that’s absurd. Gretchen helping people who have behaved so badly to her own family!”

“The fact that she is German is bound to make her a suspicious character in the eyes of some people.”

“You know about Charley and his fight?”

He did not, so I told him.

He said: “There. You see what I mean.”

“Poor Gretchen. It’s hard on her. I hope she does not realize all this.”

“I thought I would talk to you about it. It’s as well to be aware of what is going on.”

“Gordon, suppose there is someone sending signals … someone close to us. I know it is not Gretchen … but who … ?”

“Well, if someone is sending messages, and there will always be wild rumors in wartime, we must do our best to find out who. It is not easy to send out messages across the water, as has been seen. We must watch for anything unusual. I think we should not talk about it openly. Perhaps it is better not to say anything of this to Gretchen. Let her stay well out of it. You might have a word with Dorabella. Depend upon it, I shall be on the watch.”

We were silent for a while before he said: “Violetta, you are still hoping?”

“I can only hope. What else is there?”

“It is a long time now …”

“Gordon, do you think we shall ever know?”

“If we don’t, you will have to accept the fact then …”

“That he is dead? I could not do that. I must hope until I know …”

“It could go on and on …”

“The war, you mean?”

“This not knowing.”

“I don’t want to look too far ahead.”

“Of course not. I want you to know that I think of you a good deal. If there is anything I can do to help …”

He was looking at me wistfully. It was unlike Gordon to display his feelings. I thought he might be telling me that, if Jowan did not return, he, Gordon, would be there to help me through my grief.

Dorabella and I had acquired a car which we used jointly. It was so useful for driving into the Poldowns when we wanted to shop. It saved carrying heavy bags over the cliffs or waiting to have goods sent. It was particularly good for driving some of the men to and from hospital, as many of them were unable to do the steep walk. We often went together, and on this occasion had taken in Jack Brayston, a young man of no more than eighteen who had to have a dressing on his leg.

We deposited him at the hospital, parked the car, and were strolling on into the town when we came face to face with Jacques Dubois.

I heard Dorabella give a start of surprise as she cried out: “Look who’s there!” She had drawn back slightly, but he had already seen us.

He advanced smiling.

“This is a delightful surprise,” he began.

Dorabella replied: “Well, this is a shopping center, you know, and we live just along the cliff. We are the ones who are surprised to see you, aren’t we, Violetta? What are you doing here?”

“Making a quick visit,” he said.

“Have you just arrived?”

“I came last night. I stay a night at the hotel … what is it? The Black Rock. I come to see my sister. This day we shall meet. I return this night.”

“Where are you living now?”

He lifted his hands and shook his head from side to side.

“I am in London … I am here … I am there … But we must talk … in the comfort, eh? Why do we not go into the hotel? We could have a glass of wine, yes?”

I looked at Dorabella. I fancied she was not entirely pleased to have this ghost from the past in her company. I left it to her to decide.

She hesitated and looked at her watch.

“We have certain things to do. I could not stay long.”

“Oh come. It would be such a disappointment. Just for a little, eh? One glass of wine?”

“Well, I suppose we have to wait for Jack,” she said. “He’s one of the soldiers staying at the Priory. We have taken him in for a dressing and will have to take him back.”

“Then you will come? That is good. You know this hotel?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is it good?”

“The views are superb,” he said.

I laughed. “Well, it is wartime,” I said. “You can’t expect
haute cuisine
.’”

We went into the hotel; he found a corner in the lounge and ordered a bottle of claret.

“Now,” he said, “you must tell me how life goes with you.”

“I daresay yours is more interesting,” said Dorabella.

“What is happening with the General?” I asked.

“He is very busy. He broadcasts to the French nation. His plan is to get his men together.”

“Are many coming to join him?”

“All the time.”

“You mean they escape from France and get across the Channel?”

“Some do. It is not impossible. Ah, here is our wine.” He watched while it was poured and then lifted his glass. “To you both, my friends. A speedy end to the war, eh? Then we can all be ’appy again.”

We drank and he savored the wine, implying that he did not think a great deal of it.

“It was so strange,” said Dorabella, “that you should land up on our beach. Was it really by accident or design?”

“Well, I had been to that coast, had I not? To cross the Channel where it is most narrow is best … but it is very quiet … very deserted … along this coast. It would not have been easy to slip out from Calais … from Boulogne … Dunkirk. But the quiet coast … it seemed best to try.”

“It must have been very dangerous,” I said.

“Mademoiselle Violetta, the danger was there, yes, but there was danger all around … and neither Simone nor I wished to live in France in chains.”

“I never knew until you arrived that you had a sister,” said Dorabella.

“So? For the last years we have not met often. She did not live in Paris, you see. She was with our aunt near Lyons. I see her now and then … but not much. But when she saw what was happening she came to me. She could not live in a humbled France. Nor could I … so we came together.”

“You were very brave to come in that little boat.”

“The sea was very kind to us and when I landed I rejoiced. I knew I was with friends.”

“Friends?” said Dorabella, a little tersely.

“We should always be friends,” he said, smiling smoothly.

“And you came straight to Tregarland. That was a coincidence.”

He smiled at me impishly. “I confess … I knew roughly where we were. Remember, I had come here to paint. An artist has a special eye … shall we say. There is this … this form of the rocks … exciting … fascinating.”

“It was dark when you came in.”

“I knew … just a little … and had an idea … where we were. I could hardly believe we had come in just beneath Tregarland. I thought we should be farther west … Falmouth or the Lizard perhaps. But by great good luck we were with friends.”

“It was certainly very clever of you,” I said.

“Oh no, Mademoiselle. Just luck. It comes to us in life sometimes, you know.”

“Have you seen Simone?” I asked.

“Not yet. I have heard that she is very happy here. The people, she says, are very kind and she is living with this Mrs….”

“Penwear,” I said.

“Yes, Mrs. Penwear, who thinks she is a very brave young lady to leave her country and come to fight for freedom.”

“She seems to be liking working on the land.”

“Simone will adapt herself to whatever must be done.”

“Has she ever done any kind of work like this before?”

“They had a small estate in France … my uncle and aunt, I mean. It may be that she learned something of the kind there. More wine?”

“No thanks,” said Dorabella, and added: “By the way, did you ever hear what happened with that wine merchant?”

“Wine merchant?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“We read in the newspaper, just as we were leaving, that Georges Mansard was found murdered. It would be the same man, wouldn’t it?”

“Who was that?” I asked.

“He was a friend of Jacques. He used to come to the studio to sell his wine. That was what reminded me, when you asked us to have more wine.”

“I remember now,” said Jacques. “Yes … it was robbery. I had warned him not to walk about with so much cash in his pockets. He was not, as you would say, discreet. I said to him,
‘Mon ami,
one day you will be set upon by thieves.’ And it was so.”

“Did they ever find the ones who did it?”

Jacques lifted his shoulders. “It was in that street …”

“Something about a monkey, wasn’t it?” said Dorabella.

“The Rue de Singe. Not a very good place to be late at night.”

“I am sorry,” said Dorabella. “I liked him.”

“Oh yes … he was charming. But, alas, he courted danger.”

“And nothing was heard of the murderer?”

“It passed away. The war was nearly upon us …”

“What a terrible way to die!” said Dorabella.

“Have you been to see Simone before?” I asked.

“This will be our first meeting since we came. It will be so good to see her and to hear from her own lips that she is well and happy.”

“You are in the General’s army now then?” I asked.

“Yes … yes. But there is much to do yet. We have to get ourselves … how is it you say? In order? Much work to be done, yes, but when the time comes we shall be ready.”

“Do you think Germany will invade?”

He lifted his shoulders. “It is what they thought to do. It has changed, has it not? A little, yes? It is not so easy as they thought. They believed they would cripple Britain in the air which they must do if they invade. But they have not done this, and it is said that their losses are great. We shall see.” He lifted his glass. “But when they come … if they come … we shall be ready.”

I said, “We should be going. Jack will be ready to leave hospital now.”

We left Jacques, who said with fervor that he hoped we should meet again soon.

As we drove to the hospital, I said to Dorabella: “He has a habit of turning up unexpectedly, that man. First he arrives on the beach and then we find him strolling in Poldown.”

Dorabella agreed.

A new year had come and there had been no attempt at invasion, though there had been scares in plenty.

It had been a dreary Christmas. London had been battered with incendiary as well as high-explosive bombs. The Guildhall and eight Wren churches had been destroyed, and, although London bore the brunt of these attacks, other towns had suffered as well.

Yet the mood had lightened since the evacuation of Dunkirk. We stood alone and we had begun to feel that we were capable of doing so.

Life went on for us as usual. We had grown accustomed to being careful with food and never wasting anything that was edible. We seemed to have realized that, whatever happened, we had to go on living our lives as well as we could.

Charley and Bert Trimmell had been delighted with their bicycles. They would speed along the lanes and up and down the cliff path with the carefree abandonment of happy children. They, at least, were contented.

Spring came and went. It was June again. Soon we should be saying, it is two years since the war started and then they said it would not last until Christmas. How wrong they had proved to be!

And we were growing stronger every day.