Sea Gem, page 40
Raoul turned to Mary. ‘It’s going to take ages for our turn to come. Let’s take it in turns to queue,’ he said sensibly. You go and sit down somewhere with Amelia. Amelia can give me a rest.’
Mary saw through his game. ‘I can take my turn too!’ she told him forcefully.
Raoul sighed. Now she was going to argue when he knew perfectly well she was the weakest of the three. He and Amelia had not been walking to town and back for years.
He took Mary aside firmly. ‘You, for once, will do as you are told. We have not been burning up energy like you. When your turn comes then you can come to the queue. Until then, get yourself sat down somewhere within sight of me and don’t damned well argue. I’m not in the mood to cope with tantrums from you as well as my wife.’
Mary blinked. She had never heard Raoul use such an exasperated tone of voice and a faint, hysterical hunger-giggle rose. Suddenly she did not wish to press the point because she realised how right he was. It was a simple relief to have everything taken from her hands; to let someone else deal with responsibility, marvellous to feel cherished and taken care of after battling by herself for so many years.
‘All right,’ she agreed quickly. ‘I’ll go and sit down there,’ she pointed. ‘On that bollard where those crewmen are working!’
Moving gently to conserve strength, Mary sauntered down the slope and propped herself on a cast iron bollard very near to the Vega’s bows. She was aware she was eyed by two German soldiers but they obviously decided one person so near to the ship could not make a riot.
Mary shivered. She felt so cold despite the layers of dirty clothing she was wearing. Her thoughts drifted from food to a hot bath. Nowadays she never felt clean. They had only cold water with which to wash and could not get their clothes properly clean. Her skin sometimes itched with ingrained dirt and dried sweat so she fantasised about steaming bath water with perfume in it and herself wallowing and luxuriating.
Idly she watched the Vega’s crew. How well fed they looked, how easily and quickly they moved about their tasks. Their clothes were clean, they wore good shoes on their feet and their eyes were bright within healthy faces. The giggle lifted again; what a lot of dirty ragamuffins the islanders must appear to them.
She became aware of one man halting now and again to scan the watching German soldiers, then examine the islanders’ queue. He was not doing much real work, she thought curiously. He was more intent on studying starving, dishevelled people. How rude, she told herself indignantly. It’s not our fault we are like this.
Then his eyes alighted upon her and his forehead creased in a frown. Mary looked back at him unblinkingly, noticing his dark grey hair with a thick beard to match. Fancy staring like that at me, she thought, and drew herself a little more upright to glare back at this impertinence.
The crewman jumped on the quay, spoke briefly to a German soldier then was striding vigorously up to her. He wore a thick rolled neck sweater of dark blue with trousers the same colour. Mary eyed the clothing. How wonderfully warm it must be and so clean and fresh! She could not help but feel a pang of envy. Averting her eyes, she threw a glance at the queue and Raoul waved back. Amelia was near him talking animatedly to someone. Mary gave a gentle wave to acknowledge Raoul, turned to look at the Vega again when the crewman appeared to stand before her only two feet away.
Mary looked up and her heart stopped dead. She would know those violet eyes anywhere. With a thud her heart started beating again as her mouth opened, lips moving in soundless wonder while a lump rose to lodge in the middle of her throat.
He knelt down so his eyes were level with hers. ‘Catherine! My sweet wonderful Catherine,’ he crooned. ‘I’ve been praying you’d be here. I’ve been scanning the queue for hours in a panic I’d miss you. We are not allowed to come any further on to the island than this. How are you?’
Victor was horrified. He had not at first recognised this bedraggled, starving, woman until she sat up stiffly with her old mannerism of lifting her jaw a fraction against whatever life was getting ready to throw at her. Her face was gaunt; the bones standing out in sharp relief. Her cheeks were white and unhealthy. Her hands trembled a little and he saw ingrained dirt. He wanted to take her in his arms, crush her against his chest, then jump on a magic carpet and fly her away to somewhere warm and sunny with food and clean beauty.
Mary began to tremble from the shock. She could not help it as the tears welled up unbidden to trickle down her cheeks as her lips quivered. It was him. As strong, virile and masculine as ever and he was safe, alive, here, looking at her, his eyes gentle, sad and appalled at her condition.
‘Victor?’ was all she could manage.
He took her hands gently, feeling how frail they were and his heart nearly broke. He shook his head, words hard to find for a few seconds.
‘I had to fight like hell to get this berth to come here and see you,’ he told her softly.
‘It—is you?’ Mary asked, her voice breaking.
He realised he must lighten the situation. She looked as if she would faint.
‘Well, how many other Heathcliffs do you know?’ he jested. His hand touched his face. ‘It’s the beard but it makes a lovely disguise!’
‘Victor! Oh Victor! I am so hungry! We all are. Do you really have lovely food on that ship?’ she nodded at the Vega. ‘Is it really true that we are all going to get a parcel? Please tell me,’ she cried.
He caught his breath. ‘Dear God! What the hell has been happening here?’ he asked roughly.
Mary started sobbing gently, unable to control herself any longer. ‘I’m so hungry, Victor!’ she whimpered, like a little child.
He was horrified, stunned into inaction for a few moments as the situation slowly dawned upon him. He threw a glance at the pathetic people collecting a parcel each. He saw how everyone’s face lit up as a parcel was placed in two waiting hands. He saw how some stood, frozen, as if unable to believe their fortune while others wept unashamedly. Slowly each recipient walked away, holding the parcel, guarding it more preciously than gold. A lump shot into his throat while his face darkened with fury, then his eyes came back to her. She was looking hopefully at him from huge eyes. They were appealing but terrified as if it was but a dream that would change into a nightmare at any second.
He dived one hand into pocket. ‘Here!’ he said. ‘Take this chocolate bar but eat it slowly!’
Mary looked down at it as if it were a grenade. She licked her lips, admired the wrapper’s colours, stroked it then gently but carefully put it into one pocket of the greasy jacket she wore.
‘I can’t,’ she told him simply. ‘It’s not allowed. You see, we pool our food and share everything. Amelia decides what we can eat and when. I take all my meals down at their cottage now. I only sleep at home.’
‘God almighty!’ he roared and plunged a hand into another pocket. There was a second chocolate bar. With a murderous look in his eyes he stripped away the wrapper, snapped off a section and lifted it to her lips. ‘Eat or I’ll make you!’
She opened her lips, he popped the chocolate in and slowly Mary started to chew. Chocolate! She had quite forgotten the taste. Wonder filled her eyes as he watched with a sick feeling in his guts and a grim scowl on his face.
‘Slowly!’ he cautioned, giving her another piece. He removed a clean handkerchief from another pocket and tenderly wiped her tears away. He had never been so appalled in all his life. They had all heard things were bad on the island but he had not envisaged this. Sarnia Cherie, he told himself, more like Sarnia hell.
Mary swallowed and looked at him with her big eyes. ‘That was lovely. Do you think I could have another piece without being greedy?’
His pockets were large and he’d had the forethought to fill them. Four more chocolate bars went into her hands as Mary looked at them in blind wonder. Very carefully though she opened one wrapper after putting three bars away to share. She ate slowly and was sure she could feel fresh strength going into her system from the rich food. When she had finished she licked her fingers thoroughly, then tucked them into her coat. It was joy to feel the bars of food nestling there. They were extra to the food parcels. Amelia would be delighted and should, hopefully, be in a more reasonable state of mind.
‘There is more than enough food for everyone with some in reserve but I promise you, the Vega will be making regular runs to you now. It’ll take a little while to build up stocks but you’ll not be like this again. I promise you and Churchill agrees because the Germans have guaranteed not to take one crumb from one parcel.’
‘If the Germans have said that, then they won’t’ Mary told him. ‘They are terribly well disciplined though they are now hungry as we are.’
He wasn’t interested in hearing about the enemies’ plight. ‘Tell me about you. It’s been such a long time!’
Mary was reawakening. ‘Margaret and Michael. I want to hear about them first. I must! I’ve heard nothing in—years it seems,’ she told him, her voice rising a little with hysteria.
‘Ssh!’ he whispered, stroking her bony hands, wanting to hold her tight but acutely aware of the nearby soldiers. He was very much the enemy to them. A military man on active service, not in uniform, who had wangled a passage on a neutral ship. He could imagine the uproar if these soldiers realised he was a British soldier out of uniform. He dared do nothing untoward.
‘Margaret is well and in the pink of health and condition. She cannot wait to get back to the island but as soon as Michael is released, they are going to have a quick, quiet wedding before coming back here to settle down.’
‘Without me?’ Mary asked feeling sharp hurt.
He heard this in the two questioning words. ‘They don’t want any frills or fuss. They just want to be together. You can’t blame them when you think how they have been separated and even now Margaret has no idea how long it will take for Mike to get home when the war is won. Don’t be upset about it all, just welcome them back as man and wife when they do come,’ he told her very gently.
Mary considered his words and gradually understood. ‘At least they are alive, which I should be thankful for,’ she agreed heavily. Her eyes studied him carefully now. ‘You do look fit and well. What have you been doing or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘It’s no secret now,’ he told her. ‘I was dropped to a guerrilla group into France and I have been serving with them as liaison officer. That’s why I was unable to let you know anything.’
‘The old fisherman came for a long time but then he stopped. He had warned me he’d probably not come again with the invasion. I wasn’t sorry. It was such hard work walking from Cobo to town and back regularly.’
His face became grim. ‘He’s dead, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh no!’ Mary cried. ‘How? What happened?’
‘He made one trip too many on the wrong night,’ he explained slowly. ‘The Germans must have been getting suspicious of his activities. Anyhow, he was coming into harbour one evening when a fast sea boat challenged him. We’ll never know exactly what happened nor what was in his mind. He had a revolver, pulled it out and let rip, killing a German. They opened up with a light machine gun and that was the end, I’m afraid.’
Mary felt sad. ‘He died fighting though. He was wonderful and brave and kind, bringing us a little food when he could!’ She turned her attention to him scrutinising carefully. His hair was iron grey but otherwise he looked exceptionally well and so weather beaten.
‘You’ve not been wounded?’ she asked softly.
He gave a brisk shake to his head. ‘I’ve been lucky!’ he told her, not bothering to elaborate. So lucky that at one stage he had only just been a street ahead of pursuing troops, after his cell had been destroyed by a quisling traitor and he’d been forced to escape over the mountains to Spain.
‘What about James—have you any news of him?’
‘He’s all right now but minus one foot and part of the leg. He stepped on a mine and don’t ask me any more. He’ll not fight again and probably he’ll be back here before me but you should see him getting around now. He has an artificial foot and leg and he can just about keep up with me,’ he said, trying to make light of it all.
Mary’s eyes closed with pain. At least he was alive. ‘Do you know anything of the Ozanne boys. Raoul and Amelia are my close friends, without them—’
‘The last I heard of them they were living the lives of the devil wenching with the free French maidens, having themselves a real ball and I guess by now they’ll be on their way to Germany and Berlin. They are a rough, tough pair, the salt of our Guernsey earth!’
‘Thank goodness!’ she breathed with relief. ‘I’ll tell them when we get back.’ She nodded towards the slowly moving queue. ‘You can’t sneak back to Cobo?’
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’d love to but I can’t. We sail again today back to Portugal,’ he explained heavily. There was so much to learn about her; so much to relate but it would have to wait.
‘Your family?’ Mary asked him.
‘James is at school, doing very well but infuriated the war’s going to end before he can do his bit.’
‘Nicole?’ Mary prodded.
He did stop to collect his thoughts. It was true Nicole no longer ranted and raved; instead there were days when she did not seem to be in the same world. It seemed he was doomed to be tied to Nicole and the only straw to which he dared cling was the idea she might get tired of him.
Mary sensed there was a problem but suddenly did not wish to know. One day perhaps, when it was all over and she might be able to help.
‘When will you come home, as soon as Berlin falls?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ he admitted sadly. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more than to put my roots down here again but he who wins the war also has to win the peace. Don’t forget there is still Japan. I hope to wangle a leave as soon as possible when the island is freed. Any problems with William?’
Mary was startled. ‘William is dead. He died quite a while ago,’ she said in a low voice.
He was staggered, quite unprepared for this turn of events. ‘What happened?’
It was her turn to touch one of his hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she told him firmly. ‘Not now.’
He knew when he had been excluded deliberately just as he also knew when not to pry. When he did return, there would be ways and means to find out. He looked at her lowered head. What was she hiding? Dear God, what had happened to her after his last visit? There was such yearning inside him to kiss her but one of the soldiers cleared his throat and moved a pace nearer, eyeing them with the greatest interest.
‘Mary!’ Raoul bellowed down at her. ‘Come on now. It’s nearly our turn!’ he cried with excitement.
Mary looked up at Victor, eyes wide. ‘I’ll have to go. I cannot bear not to have my parcel now.’
He pulled her to her feet. ‘Go and get it and enjoy it. There will be plenty more coming. You’ll never be hungry again, any of you.’
‘We’ll all come back here!’ she said quickly. She could not part from him so abruptly.
He shook his head slowly. ‘That might not be wise,’ he said flicking his eyes towards the soldiers, ‘and anyhow, I have to get back aboard. See, it looks as if the hold is empty which means sailing very quickly to catch the tide. Take care of yourself, heart of my heart. I will come back, but when I know not. As soon as you are liberated, Margaret will be here and James.’ He paused. ‘Ever see Emil?’
Mary nodded eagerly. ‘Often. He’s tired and hungry too but well and has been good to me. He helped when I needed it desperately. Look, I must go!’
‘Go then,’ he said softly and, damning the Germans, leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. He spun on his heels, glowered at the Germans, then vaulted up on deck again. Once more he was on Portuguese territory and no one could stop him watching her. He saw her join the Ozannes and realised he would never have recognised them either if Mary had not told him. It was a good job their boys were not here. They’d just as likely turn their guns on every German in sight. He stored up pictures and memories as he watched his personal group of three take a precious parcel each from the authorities. He saw them step aside and show each other. He saw them turn and three hands waved to him then, with Raoul in the middle, they slowly set off on the long haul back to Cobo. He strained with his eyes, not wanting to lose even one last peep but their heads were gradually lost among the crowd still winding their patient way down to the ship. Where was his spirited, fiery Catherine?
TWENTY-TWO
They sat around the Ozanne kitchen and listened to Mary’s gentle words and tears streamed down Amelia’s face while Raoul coughed, clearing his throat unnecessarily. They had had no idea with whom Mary had been talking. Victor’s grey beard and hair had changed him completely and Mary had waited until they were back at the cottage before enlightening them.
‘My boys!’ Amelia sang softly.
Raoul was too choked for words but he sniffed, bit his bottom lip then unfastened his parcel. He dare not speak; he knew he would break down too which would never do.
‘Look!’ Raoul gasped and they all gazed with awe, hardly daring to do more than rest light fingers on their food. Real tea and coffee, biscuits, chocolate, marmalade, jam, cheeses, tinned meats—the parcel seemed never-ending, down to cigarettes.
‘Oh!’ Mary gasped. ‘And it’s real too! Look at the wrappings! Feel! Real tea and coffee—’ Then she stopped and threw Amelia a look.
Amelia’s eyes held hers then dropped first. ‘Oh very well,’ she grumbled trying to be sour, but failing. Raoul’s homily had gone home but the final breakdown of her resistance had been the wonderful news of her precious sons.
‘Raoul?’ Mary asked, holding up one packet of tea.
‘Give it to them. I guess two wrongs don’t make one right and they did share that coffee with us,’ he said with good nature then he turned back to the food, which Amelia was placing on the table with the loving care with which she would handle fine, delicate porcelain. ‘I wonder when we’ll get some flour for real bread? Bread, butter and cheese,’ he anticipated, mouth slavering for in his parcel there was some tinned butter.
