Heronfield
Page 88
Sarah felt strangely ill at ease as Sir Michael opened to door and helped Tony out. What was wrong? Then Sir Michael stepped back and she saw him. She did not know what she had been expecting, but it was nothing like this. Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined the suffering which Tony must have experienced. As he limped slowly towards her, the sure firm step gone now forever, she saw that the laughter which had always filled his eyes would forever now be tinged with sadness and suffering. Her heart filled with love for this man. She stepped forward to greet him, only then aware that his eyes were focussed on her breast not her face. He stopped walking, and his eyes filled with tears as the spring sun reflected in rays of gold from the tiny heron pinned to her blouse.
“Tony?” Her voice was soft, questioning. He reached out a tentative finger to touch the heron, as though afraid that it was not real and would disappear as soon as he got close enough to touch it. But it did not disappear. He stroked the golden bird with a touch as gentle as a butterfly.
“Whenever things got too bad I thought of this.” His voice was a whisper. Sarah did not know if he was talking to her or to himself. Tony raised his eyes to Sarah’s face, the face he had dreamed of so often that each contour was indelibly etched on his memory. “Thoughts of the heron and you kept me alive, Sarah.” He reached up to touch the auburn hair with its golden nimbus of sunlight. Sarah took his skeletal hand in her own, and held it against her cheek. Her eyes closed as she savoured his touch once more. When she opened them she was smiling, the light of love shining from her eyes.
“Not a day has gone by when I have not thought of you, my love.”
Tony smiled at her words, a ghost of a smile, but one which Sarah loved none the less.
“Will you stay at Heronfield when the war is over?”
Sarah nodded, unable to speak for the tears which threatened to choke her.
“Then I’m truly home at last.”
Sarah slipped her arm around Tony’s waist and turned to lead him back into the lodge. As they crossed the drive, they could hear the distant whirring of wings down by the river. A heron rose from the reeds into the evening sky. As they watched it fly off into the west towards the setting sun, the young people smiled.
Author’s Note
‘Heronfield’ grew out of my love of history. I have tried to remain true to the historical facts, while peopling my novel with characters with whom my readers can identify, with all their human strengths and weaknesses. These characters serve to bring together some of the key moments of the Second World War, which I have described as accurately as possible.
From the beaches of Dunkirk through the bombing of Coventry, the work of the VAD’s and the Special Operations Executive, I have tried to remain true to historical fact, allowing some flexibility to enhance the flow of my story. The activities of 74 Squadron are accurate, their bases and number of losses a matter of record. The same applies to the 1st Infantry Division and the two Ranger Battalions of Force O which landed on the Normandy beaches, and the liberation of the concentration camps. On one occasion only have I deliberately strayed from recorded fact – the submarine pens of Saint Nazaire.
Soon after the surrender of the French in June 1940, the Germans built a heavily fortified U-boat base in Saint Nazaire, its 9m thick concrete ceiling capable of withstanding almost any bomb in use at the time. In 1942, 611 British Commandos and Naval personnel launched a raid against the docks, destroying the gates and machinery so that the U-boat pens could not be used for the remainder of the war. 89 decorations were awarded to those who took part in the raid, including 5 Victoria Crosses. The exploits of these men deserve a book of their own. In ‘Heronfield’ I needed the character of Tony Kemshall to be working either alone or in a small group, so had him searching for and finding submarine pens hidden in a cliff face. My deviation from historical fact on this point is in no way meant to be at the cost of the memory of those brave men who took part in Operation Chariot