We'll Meet Again

by Lily Baxter

  The sound of the Bentley’s engine made her look up as Eric turned the car into the drive. Rising to her feet she walked slowly down the steps to meet her father as he stepped out of the car.

  ‘How did the meeting go, Pa?’

  He passed a thin hand across his forehead. ‘The Lieutenant-Governor has issued an order that all ranks should be called up.’

  ‘It’s not looking good then?’

  ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll soon be at war with Germany, Meg. Not that I think we’re in any danger here on the island, we’re too small and insignificant to be of any use to the Germans. But, my dear, it’s obvious we’re going to be marooned here indefinitely while hostilities are going on. I think that you and your mother ought to go and stay with Adele in England, at least until we know exactly what’s happening.’

  ‘Mother can go if she likes, but I’d rather be here with you. Running away wouldn’t be the Colivet spirit, would it?’

  To Meg’s surprise her mother also refused to leave, although she was obviously dying to visit Adele and see her new home. ‘It can wait,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sure they’ll come over for Christmas and then perhaps I’ll arrange a visit to them in the spring. I’m not having it said that I left my home in a panic. We mustn’t give in to the Germans or let them see that we’re afraid.’

  It had seemed liked a normal Sunday. The soft September mist hugged the tops of the trees and a thick coating of dew on the grass sparkled in the sunshine. Meg and her parents had breakfasted as usual, and had been preparing to leave for the short walk to church when the BBC newsreader announced that the Prime Minister would address the nation at eleven o’clock. There was no question of missing the morning service, but when they arrived at the church they found it packed to capacity and the vicar had brought his wireless from home. The congregation sat in silence, listening to Neville Chamberlain’s grave tones.

  ‘It’s almost a relief to know the worst,’ Muriel said as they made their way home.

  Charles shook his head. ‘This is a tragedy, my dear. We’re at war.’

  ‘After all this shilly-shallying about at least we know that something is going to be done about Hitler and those beastly Germans.’

  Meg eyed her father anxiously. ‘It won’t last long, will it, Pa?’

  ‘I don’t know, Meg. I just don’t know, but I hope for all our sakes that it will be over by Christmas at the latest.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ Muriel said confidently. ‘Our boys will soon put the Germans in their place, and then we’ll have all the family together at Christmas. If Angela Barton thinks I’m going to allow Adele and Frank to celebrate the festive season in Hampshire, she can think again. What a year it’s been. First we miss our own daughter’s wedding, and now there’s going to be a war. Personally speaking, I’d like to shoot Angela Barton and Hitler.’

  In spite of the declaration of war, it seemed to Meg as if nothing changed very much in the following few months. Every evening they listened to the BBC news but, chilling as it was, what was going on in Europe seemed far removed from their daily lives.

  Muriel was in her element organising meetings and supervising jumble sales and whist drives to raise money for the Red Cross. Charles spent most of his time at more serious meetings in the States offices, but business with the mainland went on very much as before. Walter wrote to say that he had joined the Wiltshire Regiment and asked Meg to write back and enclose a photograph. She replied to one in three of his letters and sent him a very old snapshot of herself taken on L’Eree beach.

  Even when hostilities continued long after Christmas, everyone said it could not last much longer and quite soon the Germans would be beaten and everything would return to normal. The occasional Stuka flew overhead causing enough concern for those who could afford it to construct air-raid shelters, and just in case of an air attack people stuck crosses of sticky tape on their windows to prevent flying glass. Gas masks were distributed and blackout regulations came into effect. Muriel was amongst the first to instruct Mrs Vaudin to make up blackout curtains for every window in Colivet Manor. Marie and Cora spent a week taking down and washing the existing curtains before attaching the newly made black linings and laboriously rehanging the heavy, inelegant results.

  Despite the fact that ration books had been issued to the islanders, there was no shortage of food and the mail boats continued to operate as ever. Meg kept her worries about Rayner’s safety to herself. She wished with all her heart that she could forget him, but she knew that that was impossible. She worried about David, of course, but on the odd occasions when he telephoned home he sounded cheerful and positive. He had qualified as a pilot and was now flying Spitfires from an aerodrome somewhere in East Anglia. Meg realised that he risked his life every time his plane was scrambled, but either David was a very good liar or he was genuinely enjoying the challenge. Adele on the other hand seemed to be blissfully happy in her new home. Frank had been declared medically unfit for military service and he continued to work in the Southampton office of his father’s shipping company. Never a great correspondent, Adele limited herself to writing a few words on a postcard each week.

  One morning at the beginning of May, Meg came down to breakfast but to her surprise there were no appetising smells emanating from the kitchen. She wondered what could be wrong. Eric and Marie were never late for work. She glanced out of the window to see if there was any sign of the Bentley entering the drive, but all she could see was the postman getting off his bike to post the mail through the letter box. Scooping the pile of envelopes off the doormat, she arranged them neatly on the console table. She fingered Adele’s latest communication, which had been hastily scrawled on a card depicting New Forest ponies and as usual contained little more than a list of her social engagements and acquisitions for the home. Meg was wondering if she ought to take it upstairs to her mother, who was laid low by one of her bad headaches, when the front door opened and her father entered the house, pale-faced and moving like an old man.

  Meg was alarmed. ‘Pa, where’ve you been? I thought you were still in bed.’

  ‘I’ve been at a meeting all night, Meg.’

  ‘You look exhausted, Pa. Are you all right?’

  ‘I need to talk to you and your mother.’

  ‘Mother’s got one of her heads. She isn’t up yet.’

  ‘This is extremely urgent, Meg. Fetch her now. There’s no time to lose.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘I’ve registered you both for evacuation,’ Charles said solemnly. ‘It’s for the best, Muriel.’

  ‘I’ve a dreadful headache.’ She clutched her forehead, closing her eyes for a brief moment. ‘Is it really that urgent?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, my dear. The government has demilitarised the islands. The local defence forces and military will be disbanded and evacuated to the mainland. We’ll be unprotected should the Germans decide to invade us. I want you and Meg to leave on the first available boat.’

  Meg could hardly believe her own ears. ‘Surely they won’t bother with us, Pa? What good would it do them?’

  Charles met her anxious gaze with an attempt at a smile. ‘They would have invaded part of the British Isles, thereby creating a stepping stone to the mainland.’

  ‘Your father is right,’ Muriel said, fanning herself with her hand. ‘We must leave as soon as possible. We’ll stay with Adele until all this silliness is at an end.’

  Meg fixed her gaze on her father’s serious face. ‘But what about you, Pa? Will you come with us?”

  ‘I’ll stay here, Meg. I’m not leaving Colivet Manor for the Germans to loot and destroy. Besides which I have responsibilities to the tenants. But you and your mother must go.’

  Meg shook her head. ‘I said I’m not going and I meant it.’

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told, young lady.’ Galvanised into action and apparently forgetting her migraine attack, Muriel leapt up from her chair and hurried towards the door. ‘Come along, Meg. We
’ve got to pack.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go on your own, Mother.’

  ‘I don’t know how anyone is supposed to manage with just one suitcase,’ Muriel said, pulling on her white kid gloves as Eric hefted her bulging case into the Bentley.

  ‘It will give you the opportunity to take Adele on a shopping trip to the West End, my dear.’ Charles held the car door while Muriel settled herself on the back seat.

  She leaned out of the open window. ‘You should be coming with me, Meg. It’s not too late to change your mind.’

  ‘I’m staying, Mother. Give my love to Addie and Frank.’

  ‘You’re a stubborn, stubborn child. You’re just like your father.’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  Muriel made an exasperated tut-tutting sound. ‘Well, I think you’re very silly.’ She turned to Charles. ‘Aren’t you coming to see me off?’

  ‘This isn’t a pleasure trip, Muriel. Eric is going to collect Marie and Simone on the way to the harbour. There won’t be room for all of us in the car.’

  If the situation had not been so tense Meg might have laughed at her mother’s horrified expression. No doubt the thought of sharing the family limousine with their cook and her daughter was only a little less upsetting than having her home overrun by Germans. ‘I hope you have a smooth crossing, Mother.’

  Muriel sank back against the leather squabs and turned her head away.

  ‘Better not waste any more time,’ Charles said, nodding to Eric. ‘Make sure they get on board safely before you leave the dock.’

  Eric touched the brim of his peaked cap and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want, Meg?’ Charles said urgently as Eric started the engine. ‘You could still go with your mother.’

  Meg shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Pa. You’d starve if you were left on your own. I’ll bet you don’t even know where the kitchen is, let alone how to make a meal.’

  He raised his hand in an automatic response to a vague flapping of Muriel’s gloved hand as the Bentley glided smoothly towards the road. ‘I’m an old soldier. You’d be surprised what I can do if needs must, but now you mention it I am a bit peckish.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do about breakfast then,’ Meg said, squaring her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Pa. We’ll be fine, you and I.’

  In the kitchen, Meg stared at the expanse of scrubbed pine table that seemed to disappear into infinity. The huge black range glowered at one end of the rectangular room, spilling grey ash onto the red quarry tiles like a hungry monster waiting to be fed its daily ration of anthracite. It was Eric’s job to bank it up last thing in the evening and then Marie would riddle the ashes and stoke it when she arrived early in the morning to begin preparations for breakfast.

  Breakfast. It had been an idle boast that she knew how to cook, but surely it couldn’t be that difficult? Meg looked helplessly around at the china-laden oak dressers and the blank-faced cupboards that lined the walls. If it had been the stables, then she would have known exactly to the last oat where the feed was kept, but the kitchen was no-man’s land, a strange uncharted territory, and she was hungry. She opened a few cupboards and came face to face with baking tins, mixing bowls and measuring jugs, but no food. She was beginning to lose patience when the door leading to the scullery opened and Marie bustled into the room.

  ‘Marie! I thought you’d gone on one of the boats.’

  ‘Me?’ Marie rolled up her sleeves and whisked her white pinafore off its hook. ‘Not me, Miss Meg. Eric wanted us to go but Simone and I said not likely. She’s just started her nursing training at the hospital and we don’t have any family in England. We’d be stuck in some billet with people we didn’t know and no means of supporting ourselves. Anyway, I’ve no intention of leaving my little house and all my precious bits and pieces for bloody foreigners to smash up or steal. It’d take more than a pack of Germans to frighten me out of my home and that’s for sure.’

  Meg had never heard Marie say so much all at once. Wielding a brush and poker Marie mastered the range with the ease of long practice and coaxed it back to life. At once the room felt warmer, and the black kettle that lived permanently on the hot plate began to simmer. ‘You go up to the dining room, Miss Meg. I’ll have breakfast ready in two ticks.’

  Meg could see that her presence would be more of a hindrance than a help and she was only too pleased to do what Marie asked. She joined her father in the dining room, and it gave her a warm feeling to see him in his customary place at the head of the table, hidden behind yesterday’s copy of The Times.

  ‘Marie is still here, Pa. She and Simone decided to stay.’

  Charles lowered his newspaper. ‘I’m pleased for our sakes, but she should have left with the rest of the women. And so should you if it comes to that, Meg. It was wrong of me to let you stay.’

  She hurried to his side and gave him a hug. ‘You didn’t have any choice, Pa. There’s no way I’m leaving you, and that’s that.’

  He smiled, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. ‘You’re a good girl. I just hope you’ve made the right decision.’

  Meg smiled confidently, but beneath her outward show of bravado she was extremely apprehensive. She took her seat at the table, gazing out of the window. It was a lovely morning with the promise of a fine day ahead. It was almost impossible to believe that all this could suddenly come to an end. She unfolded her table napkin and laid it across her lap, but when she realised that she was repeatedly folding the starched linen into pleats she made an effort to still her twitchy fingers. It would all come right in the end, she told herself as she glanced at Pa, whose calm seemed unruffled. All this fuss would blow over. Mother would return from the mainland and everything would be as it was before the rumours of invasion began.

  She sniffed appreciatively as Marie entered the room carrying a tray laden with bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Charles folded his paper and laid it neatly by the side of his plate. He gave Marie a beaming smile as she put the toast rack in front of him. ‘I’m delighted you stayed for my own selfish sake, Marie. But I hope you won’t regret it later.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t, sir,’ Marie replied calmly. ‘Eric says it will all be over by Christmas, so it didn’t seem worth the upheaval.’

  ‘Let’s hope that he’s right,’ Charles said as Marie left the room. ‘Things aren’t going to be easy from now on, Meg.’

  ‘With most of the women evacuated we’re going to be short-staffed when it comes to tomato picking, Pa. We’ve already lost the younger men to the armed forces. It’s going to be difficult to run the farm with just Eric, Billy and Joe.’

  ‘I think we’ll have to take each day as it comes,’ he said vaguely. ‘Pass the coffee pot, please, Meg.’

  It was not the answer she wanted, but she managed to bite back a sharp response. Pa was a wonderful man, a brilliant advocate and a good lawyer, but she knew that he had little interest in agriculture, relying instead on Eric’s keen business sense to manage the farm and keep the accounts. She made up her mind to speak to him as soon as he returned from the harbour. She ate quickly, deciding that her first task of the day would be to groom Conker and muck out the stables. Her father barely seemed to notice when she excused herself from the table, but as she left the dining room she was startled by a loud hammering on the doorknocker. ‘All right,’ she shouted, ‘I’m coming. Don’t break the door down.’ She hurried to open the door.

  ‘Meg, how are you, my dear?’ Her father’s younger brother, Bertrand, was standing on the doorstep, beaming at her. Despite the warm weather, he appeared to be wearing his entire wardrobe and he clutched a large suitcase in each hand. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and trickled down his nose to drip onto his badly tied cravat. Standing behind him, red-faced and perspiring in her ancient musquash coat, was his wife, Aunt Maud.

  ‘Uncle Bertie. Aunt Maud. This is a surprise.’

  He put one foot over the threshold. ‘I
hope this is not an inconvenient time to call?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Meg said, making an effort to sound welcoming. ‘Come in, please. My goodness, you both look so hot. Why don’t you take off your coats and hang them on the hallstand?’ She glanced over her shoulder as she heard her father’s quick footsteps on the marble tiles. ‘We’ve got visitors, Pa.’

  Charles stared pointedly at the suitcases. ‘It looks as though you’re planning on a long visit, Bertie.’

  ‘So good of you to take us in, Charles,’ Maud said, launching herself at him and enveloping him in a fond embrace. ‘Bertrand was sure that you wouldn’t mind, under the circumstances.’

  ‘Circumstances? I’m not sure I understand.’ Charles looked from one to the other with a puzzled frown.

  ‘Germans, dear boy,’ Bertrand murmured, looking furtively over his shoulder as if he expected to see a whole Panzer division in the garden. ‘I’m surprised to find young Meg still here. Shouldn’t she have gone on the boats today?’

  ‘I didn’t want to, Uncle Bertie,’ Meg said, helping him as he struggled to take off his overcoat. ‘It was my decision to stay with Pa. But I could ask you the same question.’

  Bertrand peeled off his scarf. ‘Maud wouldn’t go without me, and our little house is in a very vulnerable position. If the Germans invade, or start dropping bombs on the town, we thought we’d be safer here. I expect you’ve got one of those new-fangled air-raid shelters, haven’t you, Charlie?’

  ‘We’re so far from town that I didn’t consider it necessary. Do you really intend to stay here?’

  ‘If you’ll have us, dear Charles.’ Maud flopped down on a hall chair, fanning herself with her fur hat. ‘We’re too old to cope on our own in a situation like this.’