by I'll Get By
Collectively, the lawyers had beaten her, but by the use of deceit. She’d never have believed they’d be so devious or two-faced. It was a hollow victory though. Rennie never had any intention of making things permanent and had made that clear.
He stopped, his foxy eyes wary and his smile coming and going. ‘You made it then, my Mags. I rather hoped you would.’
They both knew he was lying. ‘Would I miss my best friend’s wedding?’
‘I’ll certainly miss the irony in your words. You’re the only person who could make me laugh. You look good in uniform.’
‘Like some sort of clown? Service life is nothing like I expected.’
‘Life rarely turns out as planned. You were always ready to embrace it with enthusiasm. You brought something fresh and lovely into my life.’
He looked tired, but then, most men of serving age looked tired. He was wearing his uniform too. He deserved more than she was giving him. ‘I don’t believe in going out with a whimper, Rennie and neither did I want us to end on a sour note. Sincerely, I do hope you and Pamela will be happy together. I’m sure you will be. Goodbye, Rennie dear.’
‘Thank you, Mags.’ He took her hand in his and kissed it. His gaze went to the ring on her finger and he raised an eyebrow.
She grinned, liking this little show of defiance in the face of the curious gazes of the congregation and lowering brows of his family. ‘I did say I’d dazzle you, but somebody else ended up dazzling me.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘I doubt it.’ She didn’t enlighten him since it wouldn’t be official until she’d accepted Nick in person.
Ambrose appeared at his elbow, bristling with annoyance. ‘Time to take your place, Rennie.’
She issued instructions to God as Rennie walked away from her to join Cousin Ambrose. ‘Look after him.’
The organ played part of Mendelssohn’s wedding march and Pamela appeared, looking lovely in a pale-blue knee-length suit worn with a silk-flowered pillbox hat. A short net veil covered her eyes. She was on the arm of a small man in grey pinstripes, one who looked rather insignificant and colourless in the company of the silks. She recalled that he owned several factories that manufactured weapons of war.
Pamela’s smile washed over Meggie, faltered, and then came back again, frozen brilliantly in place like a butterfly on a pin.
Meggie smiled reassuringly at her. She had never been a serious contender for Pamela’s man, and now she had a perfectly good one of her own . . . somewhere . . .!
Nick had hidden Petite Coccinelle in a small indentation in the rock below his villa. It was hardly visible, even when the tide was out because there was no beach below the villa, only a series of steps hewn from the rock and a small wooden jetty that could be swung aside to allow the yacht access. The wall curved inwards through the rock that formed the Cotentin Peninsula that surrounded Cherbourg, providing an effective, but small buttress to hide behind.
Its mast was barely allowed a yard of headway when the tide was in. It was not a place one could escape from easily if cornered, but he had to hide somewhere and he knew the coast pretty well. Even so, every minute placed him in extreme danger.
He waited, dozing on and off, and coming alert in an instant when something bumped gently against his hull. When the shadow of a man’s head emerged over the side Nick placed the barrel of his revolver against the man’s temple.
The man froze, whispering his code name in rapid French, ‘It’s Henri. Did you bring the weapons and ammunition?’
Nick relaxed and answered in kind. ‘You’d better come aboard. Where are you going to hide them?’
‘We’ll take them up to the villa and hide them in the cellar.’
‘What about the General?’
Henri spat into the water. ‘He won’t be home tonight. We’ll smuggle the weapons out next week.’
‘I’ll pass them down to you. What news of my pilot?’
‘Your pilot has been with the Resistance for the past seven weeks and has been kept on the move and passed from hand to hand. There are rumours and I think he’ll be betrayed. He’s noticeable because of his unusual blue eyes. I’ve brought him with me. His leg was broken, but is more or less healed. Don’t expect him to run on it yet.’
‘I won’t.’
‘I also have a package for you to deliver, my friend. Make sure it falls into the right hands.’
‘You have my word.’
‘It would be better for you not to linger tonight. You’ll have to take the flyer with you now. I understand he’s not a British national. If he’s caught he’ll be classified as a terrorist and a spy, and will probably be sent to Buchenwald concentration camp and eventually shot. I’ve heard the conditions for prisoners there are horrendous.’
Nick nodded. ‘I’ll take him off your hands, Henri. What’s the wind like?’
‘The water’s choppy and the sky is overcast, but it’s early and you have a good following wind. You should be able to slip away unnoticed and make good speed.’
‘Can the man climb aboard without help?’
‘If he’s careful.’
Nick switched to English. ‘Come aboard flyer, but be careful you don’t slip. I’ll help you from this side.’
‘That depends where you’re taking me?’
‘This is no time for heroics, my friend, but you do have a choice. Either get on board or my French friends will drown you. They’ve risked their lives to hide you and keep you alive. You know too much so they’re not about to hand you over to the authorities alive.’
‘Put like that, I think I’ll take my chances aboard with you, mate.’ There was a grunt as Esmé’s man bumped into him. Nick put out an arm to steady him, and guided him down to the cabin. ‘Duck your head. Good. I’m going to leave you here while I unload some cargo.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Just stay out of the way. There’s a bunk behind you, Doctor Thornton.’
‘May I know who I’m speaking to?’
Nick grinned and turned the key in the lock. He took the top from a fire extinguisher that was securely fixed next to the cabin door, and dropped the package inside before returning the top and securing the catches.
Leo slept for a short time. He woke, feeling disorientated. They were at sea. The boat was lively, skewing around and skipping from one wave to another. He began to feel queasy and felt his way about the cabin until he found the door.
When he opened it a blast of wind snatched the air from his lungs and nearly blew him backwards. It cured his queasiness though, until the yacht suddenly canted over on its side and he only managed to stay on deck by clinging to the door.
His rescuer seemed to have eyes like a cat because he called out of the darkness, ‘She’s all over the place and the tide’s running fast. It would be sensible for you to stay inside the cabin, and with the door shut until we reach England, especially if your leg is likely to be unstable. You don’t want to break it all over again, or worse . . . fall over the side.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a little fresh air.’
‘If we sail in these conditions with the cabin doors open the wind will cause enough drag to slow us down and I’ll be fighting it every inch of the way.’
The boat took a dive and Leo was forced to put some muscle into his bad leg. He grimaced. His rescuer was making sense.
‘It will be getting light in about fours hours or so, and the conditions will be calmer when we leave the Cherbourg current behind. Perhaps you can come out then. There’s a life jacket in the locker under the seat for you to wear, and a bowl under the bunk if you’re going to toss up.’
‘Who are you?’
‘That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we make the crossing, and as quickly and quietly as possible. I hope we have luck on our side, because it’s going to be an eight-hour run, at least. I don’t usually sail during daylight hours, but the Germans are on to you.’
‘We’ll be sitting ducks if the Luftwaffe see us.’
‘And our boys will be there picking them off,’ Leo said with a great deal of self-satisfaction.
‘If we’re sunk we’ll have to swim for it.’
A huff of laughter came from Leo. ‘I’ve already tried that.’
‘The cloud is almost down to sea level at the moment, which will help, as long as we don’t run into a warship or two. There’s a torch, and I don’t have to tell you to be careful in its use. See if you can find the picnic hamper. There’s a flask containing coffee, and some food. Try and rest after.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ve eaten. I have my own coffee, and I need to keep my wits about me.’
Leo soon found the picnic basket. It contained hard-boiled eggs, a chunk of crusty bread and an apple. He ate it quickly, washing it down with the coffee.
Hearing the sound of a Spitfire patrol droning above in the clouds he experienced a feeling of security, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. His baby son was nearly two months old and he’d never seen the little tyke yet. As he lay on the bunk to rest he felt a rapid downward spiral into sleep . . . as if he’d been given a strong sleeping pill. He applied his will against falling asleep . . .
What seemed to be an instant later Leo saw light and realized the boat was no longer moving. He yawned and stretched. It was the best sleep he’d had in weeks, but it had left him fuddle-brained.
Judging from the position of the sun it was late afternoon. He gazed around him, his eyes sharpening. He was in a park! ‘What the hell!’
A warden was crouched by his side. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
‘I think so. Where the hell am I?’
‘London – Hyde Park to be exact. A woman walking her dog saw a man bring you here. The man used the public telephone, and then walked off. You’re wearing uniform and are in a wheelchair, so I thought you might either be drunk, or injured.’
Leo gazed around, bewildered. ‘But I was sure I was on a boat.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you did think that, sir,’ he said, obviously humouring him. ‘Perhaps you dreamed it, or perhaps your friends were playing a trick on you. Here come the authorities. They’ll soon sort it out for you.’
The two men walked towards him. They wore RAF security badges. ‘Can you tell me your name and number, sir?’
He was suspicious. ‘Can you tell me yours?’
The second man smiled. ‘Squadron Leader Thornton, isn’t it? Doc for short. Don’t worry, sir. You’re in good hands. We’ll soon sort this out. You’ve been missing for nearly eight weeks.’
It was unlikely anyone outside the squadron except family would know his nickname, obvious as it was. He needed someone to sort it out. Even so Leo’s mind had begun to work overtime. He was sure now that he’d been drugged. Someone had brought him here to avoid being identified. But why keep his identity a secret?
Because he worked under cover! Leo wished he’d been given the opportunity to thank the man.
‘Who alerted you?’
‘A phone call sir. The man refused to give a name. He told us who you were.’
The rescue must have been unauthorized.
‘He said he came on a boat,’ the warden chipped in.
‘What was the name of the boat, sir?’
It hadn’t had one. The name had been blacked out, and the skipper was just a shadowy figure. He’d taken care not to be seen, and Leo wasn’t about to say anything that might identify him or incriminate him. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Would you come with us please, sir. We have instructions to take you to hospital for a check up.’
Leo was itching to see Esmé. She’d be worried sick about him. ‘Do I have any choice. I’d like to ring my wife.’
‘No, sir,’ and although the speaker sounded apologetic, there was steel in his voice. ‘You’re going to hospital first.’
First had been the interrogation. Leo found it hard to lie, but he had very little to say, apart from repeating French gossip. Something that was hard for him to do because, apart from a few common words, he didn’t speak the language and most of the conversation had gone over his head.
He did his best to report everything he’d seen in Cherbourg, the number of troops, etc. He pointed out, ‘I had a broken leg and mostly saw the inside of barns, attics and cellars, when I wasn’t blindfolded. They were very careful. He had nothing but praise for his rescuers. The Resistance cell who’d rescued him had been a well-run operation and he wasn’t about to jeopardize the lives of the people who’d looked after him by revealing so much as a name.
‘Did you see the person who brought you back home?’
Leo felt the need to protect the man. ‘No . . . it was totally dark and I slept for most of the way. I woke up where I was found.’
‘Perhaps he was a black marketeer. Some of them smuggle goods back and forth. Did he have any cargo on board?’
Leo remembered the guns and ammunition being unloaded at the other end, and hoped they’d been put to good use. ‘Unfortunately, it was too dark to see anything.’
After the interrogation the remains of the decaying cast was removed from his leg. He enjoyed a soak in the bath before being poked and prodded.
‘Hmmm. The person who set this fracture was an expert. I’m going to give you some extra calcium to take. Go easy on it for a while. I dare say you’ll know when it’s ready.’
He was issued with a pair of crutches, a clean uniform and a chitty for a month’s leave before he needed to return to duty. Discharged the next morning he made his way home to Queen Street and banged at the door. There was no answer.
Some of the windows had been broken, and there was damage to the panel in the front door that had been covered with cardboard. He pushed it in, then pushed his arm through the aperture and opened the front door.
‘Esmé,’ he called, and the cat came trotting out of somewhere to weave around his ankles. He tickled him under the chin.
Limping up the stairs he pushed open the bedroom door. It was clean and tidy, the bed bare of covers. There were a couple of letters on the dressing table.
One was from Esmé, the other from his sister-in-law in Australia, Minnie. He slid it into his pocket and opened the one from Esmé. She’d gone to Dorset to be near her sister.
I can’t believe you won’t come back, Leo darling. Johnno is thriving, and we’ll be living at Nutting Cottage for as long as it takes.
Call me, my love. Please, please call me. I’ll never give up hope.
Yours always, Esmé.
Leo hated hearing his wife cry, but on this occasion he thought he might enjoy it.
A few seconds later, the telephone in Nutting Cottage began to ring. He imagined Esmé coming down the stairs, wearing her favourite brown slacks and her long pink cardigan with pearl buttons over a cream blouse. Or was it a blue cardigan? It didn’t matter. She would be holding their precious baby in her arms.
There was a choking lump in his throat just thinking about it.
She picked up the receiver right on cue and said, ‘Esmé Thornton speaking.’
‘This is Leo. Have I told you recently that I love you, my sweet bonny Esmé?’
There was silence for a few moments, then cautiously, ‘Leo Thornton?’
‘How many Leos do you know?’
‘Leo, you beastly creature, where have you been for all this time?’ she scolded. The big sniff she gave was followed by a bigger sob, as if all her tension was being released like a cork from a bottle as she wailed, ‘I’ve missed you.’
Baby Johnno gave a bit of a bellow and she soothed him with. ‘Why are you complaining, my little man? It’s your father. He’s come home? I told you he would.’
Now it was Leo’s time to cry, and he choked out, ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can . . . on the next train if I can g
et there on time.’
Twenty
Meggie usually walked to work unless she was late. She always took a detour to the river, just in case. It was odd how the landscape kept changing. Streets once lined with buildings were demolished, or partly demolished. Rows of houses had gaps in them and windows were blown out or boarded up, as though the houses were sightless. Street trees lost leaves and limbs.
Some houses had lost their fronts like doll’s houses. Beds and dressing tables teetered from ledges, held by a leg or two. Drawers were open and sheets and blankets hung down like bunting. People hunted among the rubble piles, looking for precious keepsakes. Some furnishings had their innards exposed, chunks of lathe and plaster, held by whiskers of horsehair that had helped strengthen the mix. Springs sprung from chairs.
There had been retaliation since the blitz. The RAF had abandoned their policy of industrial bombing. No longer were just the German factory and dock areas targeted, but they flattened civilian areas as well. The game of war had become ruthless. The gloves had come off.
The day was overcast and the wind had a bite to it, a reminder of the coming winter. It would be her birthday in October. Her mother had planned a party for her.
‘It won’t be as grand as we would have liked, Meggie dear, but we thought you’d prefer something more subdued, so it will be the family.’
Meggie missed her aunt, though they talked on the telephone now and again. She had a yearning to see her mother again. Sometimes she felt as if she was playing at being grown-up. What she wanted was a big hug from someone who loved her.
She wondered if Nick would come home. She had never known him to be away for such a long time. Even James Bethuen had called her into his office and quizzed her on Nick’s whereabouts two days before.
She told him the truth. ‘I have no idea, sir. He doesn’t take me into his confidence.’
Bethuen gave her an odd look, then smiled his tight smile and said, ‘Quite.’
Judith told her that night, ‘Bethuen works under someone else, and they must be getting worried about his long absence. I think he knows about Nick socializing with us. You should be careful, Meggie.’
