The Guernsey Saga Box Set

by Diana Bachmann

  Brows slightly raised, Sybil caught Gordon’s eye. They had both heard the full story of Billy Smart’s dubious deals involving Richard Gaudion and George Schmit. “What is the fellow like?” she murmured casually into her drink.

  “Short, chunky. A bit of a smart Alec if you ask me. But if he can supply any type of car I want at a good price, I’m not going to turn down the chance because I don’t like the cut of his jib!”

  Gordon had met Billy Smart once, at the boatyard, and he had to admit the description fitted to a T. But was it possible it could be the same chap?

  Jean opened her handbag. “I can do better than that. We all had lunch together, remember dear, at the Los Amigos restaurant and I took a photo. Look.” She handed the rather blurred snapshot to Gordon.

  Blurred it might have been, but there was no doubt left in Gordon’s mind. His expression remained perfectly blank as he handed it back. “You seem to have had quite a jolly party,” he said.

  “We did. Oh, and by the way, you’re going back next Monday, aren’t you? He gave us some mail to be posted in the UK. No use posting anything out here: doesn’t get sorted for weeks!” She took a packet of letters and cards from her bag and handed them to Sybil. “I told him we knew someone going back, soon. You might stick them in a box at Heathrow. They have English stamps on.”

  Gordon looked at his watch. “Great Scott, it’s quarter to nine, The dining room must be open by now. Let’s go and find a table.”

  “You didn’t feel we should warn them?” Sybil asked as they drove back through the gorge at Gata.

  “They didn’t want to be warned,” Gordon argued. “They knew well enough that they would be . . . skirting the law if they bought from him and they are prepared to take the risk.” He paused, concentrating on the narrow, winding road. “Anyway, what could we say? That it was suggested he had been involved in some dubious deals a few years ago, but nothing was proved? And suppose their deal did go wrong and they were caught by the Guardia, do we want to be called as witnesses next time we come over?”

  Sybil sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “Then let’s forget it. The man was holding a beer mug in front of his face in the photo. Almost unrecognisable, eh?”

  “Yes dear,” she grinned into the darkness. “Now you had better slow down, this is our turning coming up, by that pile of stones.” Then she added, “I tell you what, I think I might go down with a sore tummy next year when we are due to meet up with the Havers. Frankly, darling, I don’t think I like them all that much.”

  “Good. Nor do I. Let’s drop round to the Parsons’ tomorrow and see if they’d like a trip down to the Quo Vadis in Alicante, before we go? Now they seem very reasonable.” He couldn’t overcome the feeling that there were an awful lot of ex-patriots who had come out here for a geographical cure for their problems. The trouble was their problems always seemed to follow them.

  *

  “Are you happy, dear?” Sue asked Stephanie. They were sitting on the wooden bench at the court side, having just completed a set in which Sue had walloped her daughter.

  “Good heavens yes, Mum. Why do you ask?”

  “I sometimes feel you have a rather lonely life.”

  “Well, it might have been, a few months ago, but it is becoming less so.”

  Sue cocked her head. “Really? Tell me.”

  “There is a very nice crowd at work, you know. And I get asked out quite a lot.”

  “What do you do about babysitters?”

  “Nothing. I take Sarah with me and put her to bed in the host’s house. It’s a very easy arrangement, then I take her home fast asleep and put her into her own bed.”

  “Excellent. And nobody minds?”

  “No. Least of all Sarah! She thinks it all quite an adventure.”

  “Ever meet any nice men?”

  Stephanie laughed. “I didn’t think it would be long before you asked that. Yes. Several, and I have to admit there is one who is particularly nice. But it is very early days. We only met three weeks ago, but the vibes seem good.”

  Sue grinned. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” It would be lovely to think of Stephanie finally settling down in a happy partnership. And wasn’t it wonderful to think that they could talk about such things so openly, now. Only a few years ago the girl would have deeply resented such an invasion of her privacy. “Let’s go and see how Uncle Bobbie is getting on helping his niece with her homework.”

  *

  Suzanne Martel looked down the length of her dining table with satisfaction. Although so many things had changed in the past twenty-five or so years, and not all for the better, providing one was prepared to accept the changes – veer with the tide – much could remain constant. Her family were all here, all twenty of them, and nothing made her happier. Like any normal family they did have their squabbles from time to time, but generally it could be said that they were a very contented and aimiable crowd, sitting under the eagle eye of her father Gregory Gaudion, the family patriarch.

  Her mother’s brother, Uncle John, was still going strong. He had to be in his late eighties, but his dear Edna fed him so well he looked fit for at least another ten years. Then there was Dad’s late brother’s wife, Aunt Maureen, mother of the beautiful cousin Sybil who had married General Sir Gordon Banks. The latter was such a fun person, not the slightest bit pompous or stuffy, who had fitted into the family with the greatest of ease and showed Aunt Maureen so much affection.

  Brother Richard was the shyest, quietest member of the family, happily married to Anne who, with her bouncy blonde curls, blue eyes and plump figure, was the reincarnation of her mother, dear Aunt Filly who had died earlier this year. Their two boys, Derek and George, now fourteen and twelve respectively, were proving to be a right couple of tearaways, but nice with it. She remembered when she was their age, away on the mainland during the war with no family, most of the time. How she had longed for a real home again, for the parents she had almost forgotten over the five years of separation. Yet it had been so hard to re-establish the parent-child relationship when she came back. Hard for both sides. As each of her children reached their tenth birthdays, she had felt deep sympathy for her own parents, waving good-bye to their then only child . . . though little had they realised that far from being for a matter of a few weeks, it was to be for five long years. Years in which she had grown up fast, to return as an independent young woman who would deeply resent interference with her decisions!

  And now her own children were grown up, with families of their own. Roderick, blond hair and sharpening aquiline features like his father, her first husband, Jonathan, sitting down there next to the mouse-like Jane, who was spoon feeding young Gregory in his high chair, while attempting to fight down the nausea of her current pregnancy. Stephanie had sat herself next to Uncle John, but young Sarah was not to be separated from her idol, Uncle Bobbie. He was a handsome boy, the image of his father, Stephen, and studying architecture at university so that he might go into the family business.

  Then there was her dear Debbie, the athletic, green-eyed redhead who still excelled so well on the tennis court. Despite her early misgivings, Sue had to admit that the girl’s marriage to Neal Blaydon, a much older divorcee, showed every sign of being a huge success. Sitting next to her, he was ever attentive and enormously proud of her bulge, under the tablecloth. They had recently bought Aunt Filly’s house on the Common, which was marvellous. It meant that they would be near so that she could see them and their children more frequently.

  And finally, there at the opposite end of the table, was her beloved Stephen, his gentle grey eyes an everlasting source of comfort and contentment. They was an increasing amount of grey mixed with the jet black hair on his temples, but he was still gorgeously handsome. And what a wonderful husband he was: he had coaxed and soothed her through so many family crises, supported her when she was troubled and talked her out of battles and confrontations which her fiery temper had persuaded her to enjoin.

  �
�What’s on your mind, Sue?” Stephen asked, from the far end, always sensitive to her moods.

  “I was just thinking how very lucky I am to have such a wonderful family. Forgive me, everyone, for being a bit maudlin today. It is just that this particular happiness is something I missed out on so dreadfully for a long period of my life. Which makes me appreciate it so much more, now.”

  Stephen thought she had never looked more beautiful, with her lovely dark hair and eyes as green as the sea had been, that day so many years ago when they had first made love. He smiled and raised his glass. “To happy, united families, my darling!”

  And everyone joined in. “To happy families.”

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