We'll Meet Again

by Lily Baxter

  On Christmas Eve, Meg wrapped herself in as many clothes as she could pile on without losing the use of her arms and legs, crammed her feet into a pair of her mother’s old suede boots that were two sizes too small and began the long walk to the Grange. She found the Tostevins huddled in the kitchen with Hannah and Buster. They wore their outdoor clothes and the room was in darkness as the gloom of the winter’s afternoon settled on the beleaguered island. Wrapped in blankets, Pearl’s parents dozed in their chairs on either side of the unlit range. Hannah was in the scullery and Meg could see through the open door that she was scrubbing mud off potatoes at the sink. Buster, a thin shadow of his former self, padded up to Meg and licked her hand. His eyes were warm and alive as usual but he moved slowly and his ribs showed through his black coat.

  ‘Meg, darling, you’re a heroine to walk here in this God-awful weather.’ Pearl flung her arms around Meg and hugged her.

  ‘Well it is Christmas, although you’d never think it,’ Meg said with a resigned sign. ‘I wish I had a present for you.’

  ‘But I’ve got one for you,’ Pearl said, smiling. She dragged Meg from the relative warmth of the kitchen into the freezing hallway. She opened the door and gave Meg a shove that sent her stumbling into the drawing room. The door closed behind her and, as her eyes became accustomed to the poor light she realised that she was not alone. Even if the room had been pitch dark, Meg would have recognised the man silhouetted against the grey light of the French windows.

  ‘Rayner.’ In a moment of near panic, Meg reached for the door handle.

  ‘Don’t go, Meg.’

  She hesitated with her fingers curled around the cold brass doorknob, refusing to look at him. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

  ‘At least hear me out.’

  She turned her head slowly, but his face was in deep shadow. She shivered and her knees gave way beneath her. She sank down onto the sofa. ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then go.’

  He took a step closer, moving warily like a man approaching a timid wild animal. ‘You mustn’t blame Pearl. I begged her to arrange this meeting.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. I know how persuasive you can be.’

  ‘All right, I’m everything you say I am. I won’t argue if you’ll just hear me out.’

  ‘Go on, but it won’t make any difference. I can’t do this any more. It’s too painful.’

  ‘I was sent to a new posting at Fort Hommet without prior warning. There was no way that I could contact you, but don’t think I didn’t try.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Meg said dully. ‘It’s all in the past.’

  ‘It isn’t in the past if you still think I abandoned you deliberately. I was coming to see you when I learned that there was an escape attempt in progress. It was the first time I had been able to get any form of transport and I was on my way to Colivet Manor when I overheard the transmission on my driver’s radio. Somehow I knew you were involved, don’t ask me how, and I knew you were in danger.’

  ‘Do you really expect me to believe that?’

  He moved closer and this time he reached out to hold her hand. ‘It’s the truth. And I wouldn’t have wished any harm to come to Gerald.’

  The warmth from his fingers seeped into Meg’s flesh and crawled treacherously towards the icicle that was her heart. Feeling herself weakening, she stared doggedly at their linked hands, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘Maybe so.’

  His grip tightened. ‘It is so, and I had to see you and tell you to your beautiful, stubborn face that I still love you. I love you to distraction, Meg. I can’t bear to be apart from you. Every minute I spend shut away in that damned fortress on the other side of the island is like torture. Just tell me that you still love me and I’ll live off that until this wretched war is over and I can return as a free man and we can begin all over again.’

  She was frightened now, but not of him. Her fear was of losing herself in a relationship that was doomed from the start. She had seen what misplaced love had done to her family and the unhappiness it had caused to so many. She drew her hand away. ‘Nothing will ever be the same as it was.’

  ‘Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t love me.’

  She shook her head and her hand flew to the base of her throat and the string of pearls that he had bought for her so long ago, in Oxford. ‘Don’t do this to me.’

  With a swift movement he drew her hand away, exposing the delicate necklace. ‘So, you don’t love me? Then why do you wear the pearls I gave you?’

  ‘What difference does it make?’ She met his eyes at last and saw pain, doubt and then a darkening look of comprehension and molten desire that made her traitorous body cry out for his embrace. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair.’

  He released her hand only to wrap his arms around her. His kiss was anything but gentle and she felt herself falling into the abyss of need and desire, but just as she was drowning in his embrace he drew away. ‘So you don’t feel anything for me at all?’ There was barely disguised triumph in his voice. ‘You do love me. Admit it, Meg.’

  A loud rapping on the door brought her back to her senses. She struggled free and rose shakily to her feet. ‘C-come in.’

  Pearl stuck her head round the door. ‘Rayner, your driver’s at the door. You’re wanted urgently back at the fort. Sorry.’ She withdrew hastily.

  He stood up, reaching for his peaked cap and gloves. ‘I’ll have to go, but you still haven’t answered my question, Meg. Is it really all over between us?’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The clock on the town church struck two and Meg glanced anxiously around her. If he had not come in five minutes she would know that yet again Rayner had been unable to get away from Fort Hommet. She recalled their last heart-wrenching goodbye on Christmas Eve, when she had finally capitulated. The bitterness that had poisoned her soul since Gerald’s untimely death had been dissipated by the love that she had tried so hard to conquer. Standing outside the Tostevins’ house in the softly falling snow, she had finally given way to her true feelings and admitted that she loved him. Ignoring the urgent entreaties of his driver, Rayner had swept her into his arms, regardless of passers-by who might see the German major and the girl from the island who were so obviously in love. They had arranged a time and place where, if humanly possible, they would meet once a week. Meg had known from the start that it was a vain hope but the alternative was to sit at home and wait, and she had done enough of that.

  Bad weather had made the long walk into town impossible for the first three weeks and she had braved the rain and wind on the two following Thursdays, but he had not come. Not knowing the reason for his absence was the worst thing. Meg paced up and down, clutching her coat around her and stamping her feet in an attempt to regain the feeling in them. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably and she was beginning to feel faint with hunger and exhaustion. She would have to make a move soon or collapse on the pavement. The church clock struck the quarter, and Meg was about to leave for home when she was overcome by a feeling of faintness. She stumbled against the railings, clutching at them and just saving herself from falling.

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’ An old woman, muffled like a ragbag, stopped and peered at her.

  The mist cleared from Meg’s eyes and she focused with difficulty on the pickled-walnut face of the old countrywoman. ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘Get yourself home, my girl. None of them are worth catching your death for.’

  Meg watched as she hobbled painfully on her way. A German soldier, gaunt and hollow-eyed, was unashamedly poking through the contents of a dustbin. His uniform hung off him, making him look more like a scarecrow. So much for the master race, Meg thought wearily. But in her heart she knew that the Germans were suffering just as much from the privations as the islanders. If there was one thing that she had learned, it was that the enemy were human beings, with all their attendant failings and weaknesses.

  Rayner would have come if he possibly could; sh
e knew that. And she had not the strength now for the long walk home. The rain was falling in a steady, drenching downpour and she could feel the cold water trickling down her neck, soaking her to the skin. She put her head down and began to trudge back up the Pollet towards the steep incline of Berthelot Street. She had to keep stopping and leaning against the nearest wall while she regained her breath but she kept on doggedly, taking the shortest route towards the Grange and the safety of the Tostevins’ house.

  Pearl and Hannah stripped her naked in the chilly kitchen and scrubbed at her emaciated flesh with cotton towels until Meg felt that her skin was being sandpapered down to the bone. Buster, having been pushed away after his attempts to jump up at Meg and lick her face, was curled in a ball, eyeing the proceedings from the safety of his bed by the unlit range.

  ‘Stand still,’ Pearl said, as though she were speaking to a wayward three-year-old. ‘Do you want to die of pneumonia?’

  Meg tried to say something but she had lost control over her teeth, which clattered together like castanets. ‘I don’t know what you were thinking of, standing for hours in the rain,’ Pearl said, towelling Meg’s hair energetically. ‘You make sure she’s dry, Hannah, while I go and find some clothes for her.’

  ‘Just look at you,’ Hannah said, scrubbing at Meg’s back. ‘Thin as a rail and with about as much strength as a newborn baby.’

  Meg closed her eyes and ears to Hannah’s scolding and was glad when Pearl came back into the room carrying an armful of clothing.

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ Pearl said, chuckling. ‘You won’t win any fashion contests but at least you’ll be a bit warmer.’

  Finally, dressed in a selection of Pearl’s old clothes that were about six sizes too big for either of them now, Meg sat at the kitchen table watching Hannah as she opened a haybox and took out a steaming pan. ‘I collected this from the communal kitchen,’ she said, ladling a stream of soup into a mug and passing it to Meg. ‘It’s amazing how it keeps things hot. My mother used to make porridge in ours when I was a girl.’

  Meg shook her head. ‘No, this is your supper. I can’t take your food.’

  ‘Don’t be a silly ass, Meg.’ Pearl sat down opposite her and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘You eat it and don’t make a fuss. There’s plenty of it even if it’s only cabbage water.’

  ‘And a turnip,’ Hannah said, stowing the pot back amongst the hay and pressing the lid down. ‘I swapped a few cabbage leaves for a turnip, so you eat up and be grateful, miss.’

  The thin, tasteless liquid warmed Meg’s stomach and she sipped it slowly, savouring it as if it had been the finest consommé.

  ‘That’s better,’ Pearl said, nodding with approval. ‘You’ve got a little colour in your cheeks. You looked like death when you fell through the door.’

  Meg forced a weary smile. ‘I’d been waiting by the town church for an hour. He didn’t come.’

  Buster let out a sharp bark just as the brass bell labelled Front Door jangled from its spring on the bell board. Hannah shuffled off to answer it, grumbling beneath her breath.

  ‘She never changes,’ Pearl said, smiling. ‘It could be Hitler himself standing on the doorstep and Hannah would send him off with a flea in his ear.’

  Buster bounded off up the passageway, the sound of his claws skittering across the tiled floor and his yelps of pleasure echoing throughout the house. Meg rose unsteadily to her feet as Rayner strode into the kitchen. He was closely followed by Hannah, protesting loudly as pools of water dripped off his sodden greatcoat.

  ‘I thought you might be here,’ he said, scooping Meg up in his arms regardless of his audience, and completely ignoring Buster who bounced up and down barking hysterically.

  Meg gave herself up to the aching sweetness of a long-drawn-out kiss, winding her arms around his neck, barely conscious of the damp seeping through her borrowed clothing.

  Pearl cleared her throat. ‘We’ll be in the drawing room if you need anything. Come on, Hannah. Grab the dog, will you?’

  ‘Where were you?’ Meg demanded when they eventually drew apart. ‘I waited for hours.’

  ‘Everything’s changed now. We’ve got a new commander-in-chief. Regulations have been tightened up so that no one, not even officers, can get passes to come into town. I had to steal a motorcycle to get here and I’ll probably be shot for desertion and misappropriating army equipment when I get back to Fort Hommet.’

  Meg pushed him away. ‘Don’t joke. It’s not funny.’

  His smile faded and he gripped her by the shoulders. ‘It’s no joke, darling. Von Schmettow has been replaced by Vice-Admiral Huffmeier. He’s a fanatical Nazi who refuses to admit the possibility of defeat, but no matter how much he tries to whip the troops back into shape we all know that the Allies are advancing towards Berlin. The RAF have decimated Dresden. It’s only a matter of time before Berlin falls.’

  ‘I heard about Dresden, Rayner. You must be worried sick about your parents.’

  His eyes clouded. ‘I am, but there’s no way I can find out if they’re safe until I get back to Germany.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying that it’s only a matter of weeks, or maybe a couple of months, and it will all be over. We’ll be repatriated – or possibly sent to camps, I don’t know which, but it must be coming soon.’

  ‘I’ve prayed so hard for the war to end, but I didn’t think of how it would be.’

  ‘I promise you I’ll come back for you as soon as I can and then we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.’

  She drew away from him, cold fingers of fear clutching at her heart. ‘That sounds like goodbye.’

  ‘Huffmeier has forbidden all fraternisation with local women. We have to stop seeing each other. I won’t risk putting you in unnecessary danger.’

  ‘I’m not afraid. I will see you again no matter what.’

  He stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger and his frown melted into a rueful smile. ‘My brave and beautiful girl.’

  Meg’s throat constricted painfully. She could cope with hardship but his tender words brought hot tears to sting her eyes. If this was to be their last meeting, she was determined he would not take away a picture of her red-eyed and weeping. She covered a sniffle with a shaky laugh. ‘Beautiful? Bundled up in Pearl’s oldest clothes with tennis shoes two sizes too big on my feet and my hair hanging in rat’s tails?’

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, her eyelids and then her lips, smiling in a way that made her heart do a somersault. ‘You will always be beautiful to me, my darling. And after the war, when we are together again we will make a pilgrimage to Oxford and stand on Folly Bridge to gaze down at the river which brought us together in the first place.’

  The memory of that fateful afternoon and the way their bodies had entwined beneath the turgid waters of the River Thames made her shiver. ‘My life belongs to you,’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s right, and I will come back and claim you for my bride.’ He kissed her long and hard. ‘We will be together again. I swear it.’

  Meg forced her bruised lips into a tremulous smile. ‘There’s always Folly Bridge.’

  Rayner’s eyes were suspiciously bright and he nodded. ‘We’ll meet there at midnight on the evening of the May Ball, and you will be wearing your golden ball gown.’

  ‘I gave it away after Adele’s engagement party.’

  ‘Then I will buy you a new one.’

  She smiled. ‘This year, next year, sometime …’

  ‘I know that rhyme. David used to do it with prune stones at breakfast in our digs. The landlady had a passion for serving those nasty shrivelled plums.’

  Meg pulled away with a watery chuckle. ‘How lovely and normal that all sounds. I’d almost forgotten what life was like then.’

  ‘And it will be again.’ He brushed Meg’s forehead with a kiss. ‘Now, I must take you home. That is if you don’t mind riding pillion on a motorbike.’

  ‘Tha
t’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Like driving a Rolls – I don’t suppose …’

  ‘No. Definitely not. Driving a car is one thing, riding a motorcycle is quite another. I want you in one piece.’

  *

  Despite her gallant attempt at making light of things, Meg had to struggle to keep from bursting into tears as they parted outside the gates of Colivet Manor. The rain had stopped and the air was filled with the nutty scent of damp earth and wet leaves. It was almost dark, with just a faint greenish glow in the sky towards the west making it possible for Meg to see Rayner’s face clearly as they said goodbye. They drew apart from a long, achingly tender kiss, and then, with one kick on the accelerator pedal, the motorcycle engine roared into life and Rayner rode away at speed. Meg stood in the lane and listened until the sound faded into the night and all she could hear was the sighing of the wind in the Spanish oaks. It seemed in those silent moments as though a vital part of her being had gone with him, leaving a mere shadow to walk through the gateway and up the drive to the house.

  A rustling noise in the thicket of laurel just inside the entrance made her stop and spin round, peering into the violet shadows. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she was conscious of her heart thudding hard against her ribs. There had been no sentries posted on the gates for weeks now and it was getting dangerously close to curfew time. She took a pace forward and then stopped as a black shape emerged from the bushes and lunged at her. A hand clamped over her mouth and a terrifyingly familiar voice whispered in her ear.

  ‘Meg, don’t scream. It’s me.’

  *

  Someone was slapping her face, calling her name. Meg opened her eyes and saw a man silhouetted against the darkening sky. Everything was hazy as she struggled to sit up and for some reason she could not quite grasp her attacker was helping her; she recognised the scent of him even as she knew his voice.

  ‘Meg, it’s me, Gerald. Please don’t faint again.’