by Lily Baxter
Gerald slipped his arm around Meg’s waist. ‘It’s finally goodbye then, Meg.’
‘I’m sure it won’t be for long, Gerald. Look after yourself, won’t you.’
He answered her with a long and passionate embrace. Meg slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back regardless of the fact that Eric was standing just a few feet away. All around them there was noise. Seagulls shrieked overhead, ships’ sirens wailed and whistled and the drone of voices was punctuated by sobs and cries of distress. With a last soft kiss Meg pushed him away. ‘You must go or you’ll never get on a boat.’
Gerald’s eyes were suspiciously bright as they met hers in a long look. Still clutching her hand, he turned to his father. ‘Goodbye then, Dad.’
Eric did not answer or even look up; he was bent double as if in terrible pain with one hand clutching at the car door, his knuckles showing white through his tanned skin, and the other clasped to his chest.
‘Dad. What’s wrong?’ Gerald rushed to support him. ‘What’s the matter?’
Eric raised his head a little and Meg caught her breath at the sight of his grey face with beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.
‘Bloody indigestion, son. I’ll be fine in a minute or two.’
Gerald opened the car door and lowered his father onto the back seat. ‘Take it easy, Dad. I’ll get you to the hospital.’
‘No, son. You – go.’ Eric gasped as another obvious spasm of pain bent him double.
‘You’ve got to get on the boat, Gerald,’ Meg cried, tugging at his arm. ‘Your father will be all right. I’ll drive him to the hospital. Dr Gallienne will take care of him.’
‘I’m not leaving him like this. Get in with him and I’ll drive.’
Meg took one look at his set face and the arguments died on her lips. She climbed in beside Eric and held his hand. It felt cold and claw-like in her warm grasp.
‘I’m dying, Meg,’ Eric whispered.
She wrapped her arms around him. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course you’re not dying. It’s just a touch of indigestion. You said so yourself.’ She caught Gerald’s anguished gaze in the rear view mirror. ‘Hurry,’ she breathed. ‘For God’s sake, hurry.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Meg sat in the hospital waiting room while Gerald went off to fetch his sister from the female surgical ward. She shifted anxiously on the hard wooden seat, praying silently that Eric would be all right. He was more than just an employee; he had been like a second father to her, or a much-loved uncle. It was Eric who had taught her how to ride; he had given her driving lessons in the farm truck, and had always been ready to lend an ear to her complaints about school or homework, or anything that had troubled her while she was growing up. She realised suddenly that she was biting her fingernails; a habit she thought she had long outgrown. She folded her arms and waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, Gerald returned with Simone. Meg had never particularly liked her and she knew that the feeling was mutual. On the infrequent occasions when Simone had accompanied her parents to the manor house, she had shown nothing but resentment towards Meg and the rest of the family. They were of a similar age, but the likeness ended there. Simone had the exotic looks of a Spanish flamenco dancer. Her smouldering dark eyes were set beneath slanting black eyebrows. Her thick, blue-black hair complemented her flawless olive complexion and she was as slender as a willow wand.
As their eyes met, Meg’s first instinct was to rush over and offer comfort, but the look on Simone’s face was not encouraging. She turned her back on Meg and took a seat at the end of the row. With an apologetic smile, Gerald went to sit beside his sister. Meg realised that she had been excluded, and she settled down for the seemingly endless wait for news of Eric’s progress.
After nearly an hour the door opened and Dr Gallienne walked into the waiting room. Meg leapt to her feet and took a step towards him but he met her eyes with a slight shake of his head. He laid his hand on Simone’s shoulder. ‘We did all we could for your father, but he suffered a massive heart attack. We did our best but I’m afraid that there was nothing we could do to save him. I’m so sorry.’
Meg felt as though the sterile walls were closing in, crushing them all with their silent force. Simone buried her face in her hands, and Gerald put his arm around her heaving shoulders. ‘I don’t understand, Dr Gallienne. Dad never had any trouble with his heart before.’
‘It sometimes happens like that, Gerald. I’m sorry, my boy.’
‘He was only forty-nine.’
Gerald’s bewildered look went straight to Meg’s heart and she rushed to his side, throwing herself down on her knees beside him. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Dr Gallienne cleared his throat. ‘I’ll send a nurse in with some tea and I’ll let the ward sister know you won’t be returning to duty today, Simone.’
She raised her head, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘No need. I’ve got work to do.’
Dr Gallienne took his spectacles off and wiped them several times on the tail of his white coat. ‘You’re not in a fit state to go back to the ward, my dear. Go home and rest.’
‘I haven’t got a home now that my father’s dead. My mother spends all her time looking after the damned Colivets. She doesn’t care about me and never has. It’s always been Gerald this and Gerald that. I’d rather stay in the nurses’ home and take my chances with the Germans.’
Meg rose slowly to her feet. ‘What has my family ever done to you, Simone?’
‘Didn’t your daddy tell you that he wanted my parents to move into the manor with you lot for the duration? He said it would be safer for them, but he’s obviously thinking of his home comforts now that your snob of a mother has run away to the mainland.’
‘Simone!’ Gerald sprang to his feet. ‘There’s no need for this. Apologise to Meg.’
‘Mum and Dad may have been happy to let the Colivets rule their lives but I’m different. If you want to end up like them that’s your problem.’ Simone stormed out of the room, slamming the door.
‘She’s in shock,’ Dr Gallienne said, clearing his throat. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
‘Why does she hate us so much?’ Meg looked to Gerald but he had sunk back on his seat and was holding his head in his hands. She stared at him for a moment, too stunned to think straight, but suddenly the solution was obvious. She turned to Dr Gallienne. ‘I’ll go and telephone my father. He’ll know what to do.’
There was no chance now of getting Gerald on a boat for the mainland, and even if there had been, he refused point blank to abandon his mother and sister at such a time. Despite Meg’s pleas, he remained adamant that he would not leave the island until he had buried his father. When they arrived back at Colivet Manor, Charles took Marie and Gerald into his study and closed the door.
Meg was left in the hallway, not knowing quite which way to turn. Events had occurred so quickly that she had difficulty in believing that Eric was no longer with them. She half expected that any moment the door would open and he would walk in demanding to know why she wasn’t feeding the animals they had rescued. There was a nightmare quality about everything that was going on around her, and for the first time she found herself wishing that her mother were here to take command of the situation. A cold wet nose pressed against her hand and Meg flung herself down on her knees to hug Buster. He licked her face and butted her with his head when she stopped stroking him. ‘Good boy,’ she murmured, rising to her feet. ‘Come on, Buster, we’ll go and do our jobs. Eric would have wanted that.’ She hurried out of the house with the dog at her heels, and was about to head for the stables when she saw Maud and Bertrand sunning themselves on the terrace. They had to be told, of course. There was no point in putting it off. Meg braced her shoulders and went over to them.
Bertrand squinted up at her beneath the brim of his panama hat. ‘That’s dashed bad news. Poor old Derek.’
‘Eric,’ Meg said sharply. ‘His name is Eric.’
‘Wa
s, dear,’ Maud said, smiling. ‘What time will lunch be ready? I’m ravenous.’
It had been a long and emotionally exhausting day spent comforting Gerald and Marie, and now she needed time on her own. The early evening was balmy and as she walked through the woods she revelled in the intoxicating scent of briar roses and honeysuckle. The warm pine needles crushed beneath her feet added a spicy resinous aroma to the fragrance of wild flowers, and the mournful keening of seagulls echoed her mood as she clambered down the steep cliffs to Marble Bay. Through the straight columns of the trees, she could see the metallic glint of the sea glowing ferrous red in the rays of the dying sun. She glanced down at the beach where the pebbles shone like precious jewels in the fading light. They had collected them as children, pretending they were pirate treasure. If she closed her eyes she could see twelve-year-old David with a hanky tied around his head and a wooden cutlass in his hand, with Gerald as his second in command and a reluctant Addie grumbling that she was always the captive Indian princess waiting to be rescued. At seven years old, Meg had been willing to play any part as long as she could tag along after the bigger children, but more often than not they made her stay at home. She could hear their childish laughter. The days had seemed endless and full of magic then.
She opened her eyes with a start and turned her head as an ominous droning sound coming from the south grew rapidly into a dull roar and filled her ears with the thunder of powerful aeroplane engines. A series of explosions shook the ground beneath her feet. The sky behind Castle Cornet was streaked crimson with flames and plumes of black smoke. More planes followed the bombers and the sound of machine gun fire reverberated around the cliffs in nightmare percussion. Numbed with shock and fear, Meg stared bemusedly at the appalling sight. Gradually her petrified limbs began to tremble back to life and she started to run, breaking through the undergrowth, tearing her clothes on brambles and cutting her face on snapping twigs. Deafened by the blood pounding in her ears, she raced for the safety of home.
*
‘It’s a tragedy,’ Charles said, replacing the telephone receiver on its hook. His face was deathly pale as he turned to Meg. ‘Twenty-nine people were killed in last night’s air raid.’
‘Why would the Germans bomb us when they must know the islands were demilitarised?’
He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t look good, I’m afraid. I have to go to a meeting of the emergency committee. Can you cope with the farm business, Meg?’
‘Of course I can, Pa. But you will try to get Gerald to go to England on the next boat, won’t you?’
‘The mail boat yesterday was the last boat to leave, but if there’s any way to get him to the mainland, I’ll make sure it’s done.’ He kissed her on the cheek. Picking up his hat and briefcase he went to open the front door, pausing on the threshold to give Meg an encouraging smile. ‘We’ll get through this somehow.’
Left alone in the entrance hall, Meg heard the sound of raised voices coming from the dining room. She could not face another family squabble and she decided to head for the comparative peace of the stables. She was grooming Conker when Joe appeared in the doorway.
‘We’ve just about finished the milking, miss. What shall we do next?’
‘Better get the rest of the potatoes in, Joe. We’ll bag them up as usual and store them in the barn until we find out what’s happening.’
‘What about shipping them out, miss? Billy says there won’t be any more boats going to the mainland.’
‘We’ll just have to wait and see. Anyway, we can’t leave the crop to rot in the fields.’
He seemed reluctant to leave. ‘Bad business about Eric.’
The slow realisation was beginning to dawn on her that Joe and Billy, who had always taken their orders from Eric, were now relying on her for guidance. She felt sick at the thought, but she forced herself to appear calm. ‘We all miss Eric, but we’ve got to carry on.’
He nodded, seemingly reassured by her outward display of confidence. When he had gone, Meg returned to her task of grooming Conker. ‘What will happen next, I wonder?’ she said, speaking her thoughts. ‘Will they realise that I’m just as much at sea as they are?’ Buster, who had been lying in a patch of warm sunshine, raised his head from his paws and wagged his tail.
There was plenty to do around the farm and in the estate office but every little thing reminded Meg of Eric. She found herself listening for his familiar footsteps or waiting for him to tramp into the office, wiping his brow on his hanky and complaining about the heat. The sun beat down and the birds sang but she knew that nothing would ever be quite the same again; last night’s bombing raid had brought the war to their doorstep.
Late in the afternoon she realised that she had not eaten since breakfast. She crept into the kitchen, peeking around the door first to make sure that none of her relations were there rifling through the cupboards for food. Marie had been complaining bitterly about their gargantuan appetites ever since they arrived, and had threatened to put a padlock on the larder door. Relieved to find the room empty, Meg put the kettle on the hob. She was warming the teapot when Gerald walked into the room. He was pale beneath his tan and his face was drawn. He made a brave attempt at a smile. ‘Meg, I thought I might find you here.’
She struggled to maintain her composure, but seeing him like this made her want to cry. ‘It’s a sad time for all of us, but how is Marie coping today?’
‘Badly. But I suppose that’s only to be expected.’
She made tea and poured a cup for Gerald, lacing it with two spoonfuls of sugar. ‘I am so sorry, Gerald. I just don’t know what to say to you.’
He slumped down on a chair, resting his elbows on the table. ‘I know. I can’t believe it myself.’
‘But you’ve got to return to your regiment. Eric would have wanted that above everything.’
‘It’s too late now,’ he said tiredly. ‘I’ve overstayed my leave as it is.’
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. ‘You have to try. You’ll be in terrible danger if you stay, and branded as a deserter if you don’t get back to your unit.’
‘I say. What’s this, Meg? Hobnobbing with the servants again?’ Pip had entered the kitchen unnoticed.
‘Shut up, Pip,’ Meg said automatically. She was too concerned for Gerald to pay much attention to her cousin’s stupid remarks.
Pip stared pointedly at Gerald. ‘Shouldn’t you be off fighting for your country?’
‘Shouldn’t you?’
‘Here, you can’t talk to me like that, you’re just the son of the hired help and he’s dead, so you’ve no right here at all.’ Pip stepped aside, giggling nervously, as Gerald pushed his chair back, sending it crashing onto the tiled floor.
‘Ignore him, Gerald. Everyone else does.’ Meg rounded the table swiftly and caught Gerald by the hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Pip followed them through the scullery and into the stable yard. ‘You’re very brave when you’ve got a girl to stand up for you!’
Meg rounded on him furiously. ‘That’s enough of your idiotic remarks, Pip.’
‘I’ll tell Uncle Charles what you said.’
Gerald snatched his hand free and made a move towards Pip. ‘You’ll tell him what exactly?’
Meg slipped in between them, although she knew that if it came to a fight Pip would run away or scream out for his mother. ‘Take no notice of him, Gerald. He’s just a nasty little toad. Pa can’t stand him any more than I can.’
Pip retreated into the house. ‘I’ll tell Uncle Charles you said that too.’
Meg slipped her hand through Gerald’s arm and she could feel him trembling with anger. ‘Let’s get away from here. My bike’s in the stables and you can use David’s.’
Riding side by side with Gerald along the deserted Forest Road towards the airport, Meg had no particular destination in mind. She had simply headed in the opposite direction to town and all the earth-shattering recent events. Normally there would have been a few
cars passing them in both directions, filled with families out for a Sunday drive, or young men on motorcycles with their girlfriends riding pillion. But today the only person they saw was an old farmer with a loaded hay wagon drawn by an equally elderly shire horse. Both kept their heads bent, staring gloomily at the ground. The rumble of the cartwheels and the steady clip clop of the horse’s hooves gradually faded into the distance, but another low droning sound took its place, growing louder every second.
Meg braked hard, coming to a sudden halt, and Gerald pulled up beside her.
‘What on earth was that?’ Shielding her eyes, she squinted into the clear azure sky.
Seconds later a huge plane swooped down towards the airport. ‘By God, Meg. It’s a Junkers, and it’s coming in to land.’
There was no mistaking the destination of the huge aircraft and Meg could only watch in silence, too horrified to speak.
‘Bloody hell.’ Gerald spun the bicycle round to face the way they had just come. ‘The Germans have landed.’
‘Come on,’ she said, leaping onto the saddle and pedalling frantically. ‘We’ve got to get home. Pa’s on the controlling committee. He’ll know what to do.’
Charles sat behind his desk steepling his fingers. ‘There is nothing we can do. Resistance would be useless in the circumstances.’
‘We can’t just let them walk all over us, Pa.’ Meg rested her hands on the desk, willing her father to say something that would give them hope, but his expression remained impassive.
‘We will do what we have to in order to survive.’ Charles turned to Gerald, frowning. ‘But matters are more serious for you, I’m afraid.’
‘I won’t run away from danger, sir.’
‘This isn’t a question of bravery or cowardice, Gerald. It’s a matter of common sense. If you give yourself up to the Germans, they’ll make you a prisoner of war and you’ll be sent to France or Germany to one of their camps. If you don’t give yourself up and they catch you, you’ll be shot as a spy.’
