Sea Gem, page 28
Margaret returned home finally in 1936, well educated but without any desire to go to university. Mary did not mind; it was too wonderful to have her daughter back. Perhaps Margaret had realised the grind of university was not for her. Also she had been astute enough to take note of the way Europe appeared to be changing for the worse.
To Mary’s surprise, Margaret had taken over control of the small shop and displayed a sound commercial flair, making changes which Mary approved and the shop had rapidly doubled its takings. Within another year, a second shop had been bought which Margaret managed and there were plans for a third.
She was formally engaged to Michael who stayed on in England where he had, to everyone’s surprise, joined the army as a regular soldier. Michael never wavered as to where his heart lay and Margaret seemed equally sure of her own. Mary knew it was a good match and now the couple talked of wedding plans but would these be possible?
When Margaret came home on holidays, William was always away and when her daughter was home for good, Mary tactfully made her flat over to Margaret as a private home. That way brother and sister were kept relatively apart although they did bump into each other now and again. They were like two stiff-legged dogs facing a juicy bone. Margaret would go all cold and awkward while William clammed up and said nothing but never relaxed either.
To Mary’s astonishment and great relief, William settled down and was now fluent in French and German. To her surprise he had caused no more trouble yet between them, an atmosphere was ever present; but at least he did as he was told. Mary suspected she still had the stronger character but William had to be watched. He was a powerful young man and kept himself fit with running and swimming. Where he went in his spare time Mary did not know though she often wondered with unease. He seemed to get on well with Raymond and Gwen, was diffident with Raoul, sullen with Victor and James and what he thought of Emil Mary did not know.
When Britain declared war on the 3rd September 1939, Mary’s spirits had sunk although, as yet, few of the islanders took the matter seriously. Although their men folk had fought well in the last war, the Channel Islands themselves had been totally unaffected and few could see things might be different a second time around. Indeed, there had been the usual influx of holiday visitors and Mary had been as busy as ever with many people saying they considered the islands a safe place to come, to avoid air raids.
She saw James on a weekly basis, sometimes to discuss the business matters but always to converse in low voices on the dangerous situation. Mary could not help marvelling how prescient some Britons had been so many years ago.
‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Mary had asked with worry.
James gave her a long, hard look. ‘Yes and it will get worse. The public won’t be told this either because of the danger of morale collapsing.’
They sat in silence until he spoke again. ‘Are you ready to work as planned?’
Mary nodded, though her face was white. ‘Surely these islands won’t be affected?’
James turned aside and looked through the window thoughtfully before turning back to her with a grave face.
‘If Germany overruns France, as she will, Hitler will invade here I’m afraid. Anyhow that is the policy on which we plan to work.’
‘Germans—here?’ Mary cried, aghast.
James had nodded grimly. ‘With France, Belgium, Holland and Norway gone what is there to stop them? Britain is stretched to the limit and is standing quite alone. I can tell you if the worst happens, all of the Channel Islands will have to be demilitarised. Do you understand what that means? There will be too few troops to fight and the RAF will be withdrawn back to the mainland. The islands will be alone.’
‘But how can we defend ourselves?’ Mary had protested.
‘You can’t,’ James told her bluntly, ‘and there is also another aspect to this as well. If a military stand were made here, think about the appalling civilian casualties. There are no shelters. There is nowhere for the public to flee to for safety. The blood loss would be too enormous to contemplate so the Channel Islands will have to be left for Hitler.’
‘What will happen to us?’ Mary asked, an icy finger creeping up her spine.
‘I’m afraid you are going to be invaded and occupied by Germany!’
‘We rely on Britain! We cannot grow enough food for everyone here. We get our coal and goods from Britain. What will we do?’
‘Suffer and bear it, I’m afraid,’ he said firmly. ‘There is nothing else to do and you know all this is now classified. Can you now see why we planted people here long ago to be Britain’s ears and eyes? I can tell you the Bailiffs of both Guernsey and Jersey will be ordered to stay at their posts while efforts will be made to get those off the island who wish to go.’
Mary sat stunned and appalled. ‘I can hardly take it in.’
‘So now I tell you officially we wish to activate you the moment the Germans land here. I take it you will stay?’
Mary’s temper flared. ‘Of course I shall stay. I’ll not run from Germans!’ she had snorted. ‘No one drives me from my island home!’
‘Good!’
Mary studied him. He had changed. There was a worried look in his eyes and he seemed older. It was his gravity that stabbed another knife deep in her guts. If James was worried, then she should get really alarmed but she kept her face straight.
‘Your daughter lives in the flat,’ James said suddenly, chewing his lip. ‘That will have to change. That flat must be where you can be found,’ he had told her steadily.
Mary nodded. She had been half expecting this. ‘I doubt Margaret will stay here much longer. Her fiancé is on active service. Any day I expect her to tell me she is going back to the mainland to join one of the women’s services.’
James stood up and went to the window, looking through it but seeing nothing then he turned back and slowly sat down facing her.
‘My wife and daughter have already gone,’ he had said slowly. ‘They flew out two days ago. I’m off at the end of this week as well—on active service, shall I say—and don’t ask me any questions please.’
Mary sat frozen. ‘You too!’ she whispered. ‘But your practice, your home?’
He shrugged. ‘If a lawyer is any good, he can rebuild a practice. As to my home, certain precautions have been taken and Emil has the keys.’
Precautions? Mary’s mind had buzzed then she understood. Personal valuables had been hidden but his lovely expensive home . . . ?
‘Our world is collapsing,’ she murmured.
‘It’s already collapsed!’
‘What should I do?’ was Mary’s next question.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrow and sharply hard. ‘You must let yourself fall into a pattern whereby you spend a certain amount of time in the flat doing—your accounts, shall I say? That way, whoever comes will be able to contact you. Remember there are always brave people who act as couriers to get information out. Your job will be to collect and assess it. You must write it down using small handwriting, condensing the material and naturally you must have some foolproof hiding place which I leave to your sense. Remember, if the Germans come, as they will, do not underestimate them. They are not fools and they can be extremely harsh.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘Everything and anything which gives a complete, current picture of enemy troops here on this island. The calibre of the troops. The way they are armed, their morale—all and everything is grist to the mill of general information which, when slotted together, gives those who make military decisions the complete picture of the enemy’s strength. You will have the code name of Lihou and your contact will be Jethou. Each word is to be used in a natural sentence.’
‘Man or woman?’
He shook his head wearily. ‘I don’t know and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.’
Mary gnawed her bottom lip. ‘What happens if—?’
‘This would be known which is why you will have a second contact name of Burhou and your opposite number will be Brecqhou. We have tried to keep matters simple by using local island names. You will divulge nothing to a person who fails to identify himself with either of these names. Remember, every country and every race has its share of informers so trust only those whom you really know because your neck will be on the block. If anything happens to you, there will be no chance of rescue,’ he warned her gravely.
‘I’ll know only the courier who comes—and you?’
He paused, looking bleak. ‘I doubt you’ll see me again until it’s all over.’
‘When you first talked to me years ago I never really took it all in,’ she told him in a low voice. ‘I simply could not believe it would happen a second time in half a century.’
‘Your contact will make himself known to you in the shop just about at closing time so it will be natural for you to invite him up to your flat for a cup of tea,’ he had told her. ‘Always see your shop girl off, then delay locking up yourself for ten minutes or more and do this twice a week to a regular pattern. That way any islanders will accept your being there,’ he had advised her.
Mary nodded; she experienced a sharp flash of panic. Despite the way she had trained her memory and senses, now they were to be needed seriously, she felt a great load of responsibility descend upon her back, then her resolve hardened. She could do it and she would.
‘There is one more point,’ James told her thoughtfully. ‘If the Germans do have a fault, it is their Prussian regularity. Sometimes this can be used against them but be careful of them. Very careful!’
Slowly he stood and took her hand, he kissed it in the continental manner and as she left, Mary wondered when she would ever see him again.
* * *
For a number of days now she had not seen Victor, which puzzled her because he was meticulous in visiting his grandmère. She had sent a message warning him of the old lady’s imminent end but still he had not come and Mary’s shoulders slumped.
‘Mary?’ a light whisper rose from the bed.
Mary whipped round and shot from the chair kneeling by the bed side. ‘Tante?’ she said taking a thin, frail hand into hers.
The old woman managed a wan smile before speaking again with an effort. ‘This dying is a tedious business,’ she murmured.
Mary felt tears hover and struggled to hold them back. Tante would scorn their appearance now.
‘If you say so,’ she managed to choke out.
‘I’m glad you are here, girl,’ Tante said slowly. ‘It’s been a long time since you landed at the quay. My will is with James and everything is divided equally between you and Victor and all liquid holdings are in England and have been for a while. The house though is yours and so is my cottage. One day when this ghastly war is over, you might want to live there so that Margaret and Michael can raise their family in the house. It is in the natural order of events, isn’t it?’
Words stuck in Mary’s throat. James could well have gone by the time Tante died so she guessed another lawyer would have to deal with it though, knowing the wily old lady, everything would be in apple-pie order. As if she cared. All she wanted was Tante yet such a wish was selfish. The old lady had been slowly failing for a year and the quality of her life had deteriorated. It was kinder for her to go; certainly before there were German jackboots on Guernsey.
‘Mary!’ Tante said heavily. ‘This war is going to be bad. I feel it in my bones. The Germans will come and I have a presentiment it might be for a long time. Take no chances. Get Raoul to help you bury everything of value that won’t rot in the soil but do not let William know,’ she warned anxiously. ‘Get in as much food as you can. Make sure you carry your pistol and ammunition with you at all times and Mary, do what you can to help Britain as James wants!’
Mary’s eyes opened wide with shock. She was astounded James had confided in the old lady.
Tante read her mind. ‘He did not tell me. I slowly put two and two together in the many months in which I have been able to think. Your business is not so vast that you need to see a lawyer every week and neither is it quite necessary to go flying all around the island as if you were going to map it!’ she managed to get out dryly.
‘Well!’ was all Mary could manage to get out, equally dryly.
‘Raoul and Amelia are sound and trustworthy like Victor but don’t trust Nicole le Page. I suspect she’s known the feeling between you two for a long time but she’s been too deep and cunning to come out with it. Be wary of her. Never trust William of course and don’t turn your back on him either. I still think he’s not finished giving you trouble because the older he gets the more difficult he will become. He is seventeen but could easily pass as a man in his twenties,’ she sighed. ‘Promise me you will never trust him.’
‘I won’t!’ Mary vowed. How could she, after Edwin?
‘I can’t make up my mind about Raymond and Gwen. They are good workers, that I grant, yet I’ve never cared much for Raymond and he leads Gwen. Reserve judgement with those two. James, as you know, is trustworthy and Emil, but always remember he is a policeman first and islander second.’
‘I will,’ Mary whispered with breaking heart.
‘Victor has always loved you and always will. What a stupid old fool I was but you must live your own life now. If chance lets you find happiness with Victor, take it. Watch out for Nicole though. Those Oseltons are a queer lot, too inbred for my liking.’ She paused to catch her breath. ‘Tell me though, Mary, who was Edwin’s father?’
‘How on earth—?’ Mary began, then bit her lip. ‘Victor was his father. That day I came back and said I’d come off the cycle because of a stone,’ she explained softly.
Tante nodded half to herself. ‘So I was right there at least,’ she stated triumphantly, ‘though it took me a long, long time to work it out. Does Victor know?’
Mary shook her head. ‘There was no point after Edwin’s death, it would have made a terrible situation even worse.’
‘You must tell him before he goes off to fight,’ Tante said urgently. ‘In wartime, don’t have secrets from those you love in case—’ and she let the sentence hang.
Mary could see her chest was barely moving and she realised Louise was going. She leaned forward and kissed each cheek gently then stood, looked down and knew Tante had gone. At that moment the door opened and Victor tiptoed in.
‘She’s not—?’ he asked swiftly.
Mary faced him, white, with tears threatening. ‘Just now.’
Victor groaned. ‘I couldn’t get here before because—well never mind that now.’
‘It’s the end of an era,’ Mary said sadly.
Victor touched the old cheeks and gently closed Tante’s eyes. ‘We’ll not see her like again for a long time, if ever. I just wished I’d known her when I was a boy,’ he said with bowed head.
They held hands like children, united in their absolute grief. Mary turned to him.
‘Will you be going to war?’ she asked quietly.
He nodded gravely. ‘There’s a chance able-bodied men who stay here may be interned and even someone of my age has a part to play in war but from the mainland.’
Mary’s shoulders slumped. ‘In that case, there’s something you should know before you go,’ she paused. ‘Edwin was your son.’
He stilled, eyes opening wide with shock. ‘Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me before, Mary?’
‘How could I? Think back to those times with Duret still alive. When Edwin died I was too distraught. Tante knew though. She had guessed but I don’t know how. She said I should tell you before you left for war.’
‘Edwin my boy!’ he murmured and shook his head, passing a hand over his forehead. He turned back to her. ‘I did wonder. I did some counting myself but when you never said—I presumed Duret had used you.’
They were quiet. ‘If I had known,’ Victor said grimly, ‘I’d have—done something.’
Mary nodded. ‘And the whole island would have known, the family name would have been ruined and dear old Tante would have suffered cruelly. Do you see now why I could not tell you?’
He was forced to nod reluctantly. ‘It rankles though,’ he had to admit. ‘Especially thinking of how he died. Perhaps it’s as well you’ve only told me now,’ he ended grimly. ‘Come, let us leave Tante. There are arrangements to be made and we will have a precious hour in which to talk. God knows when there’ll be another opportunity and to hell with what your workers think either.’
* * *
On the 8th June, the islanders saw a pall of smoke on the horizon which seemed to block out the sun and Mary guessed the French were burning their oil storage tanks before the Germans came.
Victor came to her that evening and together they strolled up the coast to the Rocques, saying little, content to be with each other, both weighed down by worry. They ambled along for a while in silence both immersed in their own thoughts.
Mary’s heart was heavy but from force of habit she looked around. There were more cottages here than when she had first come and the little village had spread. It was not often the coast road was empty nowadays and she knew this was a step forward but somehow, when shared by others, this cherished spot lost its magic.
Victor led her up the grass, past the hotel to the high point where he had first seen her. He studied a woman of forty. She had worn extremely well and still had a remarkable effect upon him. As she stood solemnly looking out to sea a tiny breeze pressed her blouse against her breasts, outlining them to show their beauty. Her slacks, not quite as neatly pressed as usual, were dark green, a colour she favoured and her tan sandals were the same shade as her blouse. Her short hair stirred gently and he wanted to run his fingers through it. Her lips were richly full and inviting though there were shadows under her eyes from grief and lack of sleep.
