We'll Meet Again (30 page)

The prison doors opened and Meg darted behind the tree. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as adrenalin coursed through her veins. She was ready for anything, although she did not have the slightest idea what lay before her.

But she realised that something was wrong, or at least things were not happening as she had thought they might. A German soldier came out first and stood back as a straggly line of prisoners trickled out through the gateway, shuffling, stumbling, blinking in the first rays of the morning sun and looking bewildered. The soldier became impatient and began to shove and push, shouting in rapid German. Meg’s understanding of the language was fairly basic but it sounded as if he was telling them to get on their way. She held her breath, biting her lip and digging her fingernails into the bark of the tree. Then, stifling a cry of relief, she saw him. ‘Gerald.’ She pushed her way through the crowd of confused men and seized him by the arm. He looked and smelled terrible. He had lost even more weight and obviously had not shaved for days. His clothes were crumpled and filthy and Meg suspected that he was running with fleas and probably lice too.

‘Meg? What are you doing here?’ He stared at her blankly with the dazed look of someone awakened suddenly from a deep sleep.

‘Never mind that. I’m going to take you home.’ She linked her arm through his and led him up the hill and away from the grim exterior of the prison. He swayed and almost fell at they reached St James’s Church on the corner of College Street.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gerald said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘So stupid.’

‘Don’t worry; I’ll soon have you home.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s no use, Meg. I wouldn’t be able to make it that far.’

People were hurrying about their daily business and if they looked anywhere today it was upwards as the constant roar of aeroplane engines continued to fill the sky. What she needed now was some kind of transport or a safe place to leave Gerald until he was strong enough to walk home. The hospital was not far away but Meg abandoned that idea in case it put Simone in danger. There was only one place she could take him and she hoisted his arm around her shoulders.

‘Come on, it’s not too far to walk. We’ll go to the Tostevins’ house on the Grange.’

Wrapped in her dressing gown with her hair set in snail-like curls fastened with kirby grips, Pearl stood in the open doorway, staring at them in amazement. ‘My God! What’s happened to you, Gerald?’

‘Can we come in?’

‘Of course,’ Pearl said, stepping aside to let them into the house. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘What’s that God-awful smell?’

‘Don’t ask,’ Meg said, propping Gerald up against the wall. ‘But it might be a good idea to stick him in the bath with some Lysol if you’ve got any.’

Pearl clutched her dressing gown to her throat, taking a step backwards. ‘I’ll get Hannah; she deals with that sort of thing. Better take him through to the kitchen and give him something to eat and drink.’

‘There’s no need to talk about me as if I wasn’t here,’ Gerald said, with a hint of his old humour. ‘And I don’t need you girls to bath me, thanks very much.’

Before Meg had a chance to reply, the kitchen door opened and a black shape hurled itself along the passage and skidded across the marble-tiled floor. Buster flung himself at her, jumping up and attempting to lick her face. It was impossible to remain serious with several stone of enthusiastic Labrador greeting her ecstatically and Meg laughed delightedly as she attempted to calm his exuberance. ‘Good boy, good dog.’

Hannah appeared at the top of the stairs, her long grey hair hanging in a plait and her spectacles balancing precariously on the tip of her nose. ‘What’s all this commotion?’

‘Hannah, dear,’ Pearl said, clasping her hands as if in prayer. ‘We need your help.’

‘I can see that.’ Hannah came slowly down the stairs. She stopped in front of Gerald, looking him up and down. ‘Yes, well I can see you’re in a bit of a mess. Come with me, young man. You need a bath. Buster, you dratted dog – kitchen.’

Eyeing her warily, Buster turned and fled.

‘He won’t do that for me,’ Pearl said, following him towards the kitchen. ‘Come on, Meg. We’ll have a cup of mint tea and you can tell me what’s been going on.’

Leaving Gerald being ruthlessly ministered to by Hannah and Pearl, with Buster adding sympathetic licks and much tail wagging, Meg walked briskly home. She was too elated to feel tired but she was worried that Nordhausen might have noticed her absence. No doubt he would delight in bringing her before Dressler for ignoring the curfew. But as she approached the main gates of Colivet Manor she was surprised to see that there was no sentry. As she walked up the sweep of gravel drive the unusual silence was a sign that the soldiers were out on duty to a man. Even more surprising, she could see Pa, Uncle Bertie and Aunt Maud sitting in deck chairs on the terrace like holidaymakers on the beach. As she drew nearer she realised that they were watching the planes that continued to fly towards France.

Charles saw her first and waved. ‘Isn’t it a bit early for a walk, Meg?’

She felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside her. She quelled it with a long draught of water from the carafe placed on a small camp table.

‘You should have worn a sunhat, Meg,’ Maud said, squinting at her. ‘Your hair looks like straw. What would Muriel say if she could see you now?’

This time Meg did laugh, and seeing their astonished faces made it even harder to stop. She sank down on the warm stone step to sit beside her father.

‘Are you all right, Meg?’

‘Yes, Pa. I’m fine.’

‘You were out before curfew. Marie told me so.’

‘I know but it was worth it.’ Meg clasped his hand in hers. ‘Pa, I’ve got some good news for you.’

Even though the Germans had thrown the prisoners out on the streets, Charles thought that it would be too dangerous for Gerald to return to Colivet Manor just yet, and Meg had to agree. She had gradually come to terms with her father’s youthful indiscretion. When he had tried to explain that his feelings for Marie had changed and matured over the years and that they in no way diminished his love for his wife, Meg was able to listen with a degree of empathy. Her complicated relationship with Gerald and her abiding love for Rayner made it easier for her to understand her father’s predicament. It was possible to love two people equally, but differently. She felt pity for all three persons involved in the emotional triangle. In some ways she thought that the bonds between her father and Marie should have been severed years ago, but they had their son to consider and for good or ill Marie had taken the decision to stay on and work for the Colivets. Meg could only imagine how difficult this must have been for her, and she was filled with admiration for Eric, whose patience and devotion to his wife had enabled him to live with a situation that might have driven lesser men to madness. With all this knowledge came understanding and respect for her mother, whose undoubted strength of character had kept her family together.

The events of the past few years had changed them all, and Meg knew she had grown up. She was no longer a carefree girl. She was a young woman who had known hardship, loss and sorrow. She might never see Rayner again, but she knew in her heart that she would never love anyone else. The future stretched ahead of her, lonely and childless. She would face it somehow and she must get on with life as best she could. Her first task would be to pay another visit to Simone at the hospital and pass on the good news about Gerald.

‘I’m glad,’ Simone said, when Meg told her that Gerald was safe and well.

Meg had not expected Simone to leap about with joy but she might have tried to look happy. As it was she was frowning and kept glancing at the nurse’s watch pinned to her breast pocket. ‘Yes, well, I thought you’d want to know.’ She was about to walk away when Simone caught hold of her sleeve. ‘What is it, Simone?’

‘I wasn’t going to tell you, because I wanted you to suffer as I did when Dieter finished with me.’

‘Tell me what?’

‘You thought I was a cold, unfeeling cow, I know you did, but I wasn’t. I loved Dieter even though I knew all along that he was simply out for a good time. Pathetic, isn’t it?’

‘No,’ Meg said, slowly. ‘Not at all. Love is like that sometimes.’

‘It was for me anyway. The bastard couldn’t get away fast enough when he knew I was pregnant. If you hadn’t taken me in I doubt if I’d be here today. I hate to think what might have happened to me because I simply didn’t care, but your kindness made me even more resentful of the Colivets.’

Meg laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to say all this. It doesn’t matter now.’

‘It matters to me and that’s why I’ve got to tell you something because I know you love him.’

Meg’s heart missed a beat. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Your German. He’s here in the hospital.’

‘No. That’s impossible. You must be mistaken. He was sent away from the island. Pearl saw him board the troop ship.’

‘It was sunk by the RAF. The survivors were picked up by a German warship and brought back here. He was badly hurt and they didn’t think he would live.’

‘Oh my God,’ Meg hardly dare frame the question. ‘But he’s all right now? He is, isn’t he? Don’t look at me like that, Simone. Tell me the truth.’

He was asleep. Meg stood looking down at his pale face, the skin drawn taut across his high cheekbones and thick crescents of corn gold eyelashes resting on bruised shadows beneath his closed eyes. The painful intensity of her relief almost suffocated her; she wanted to laugh and shout for joy, but at the same moment the urge to cry was almost overpowering. As if he sensed her presence Rayner’s eyelids fluttered and opened. ‘I knew you’d come.’

She held his hand. ‘I didn’t know you were here or I would have come sooner.’

‘You’re here now. I’ve dreamt of this moment.’

‘You must go,’ Simone said in a low voice, glancing nervously over her shoulder. ‘If Matron catches you here there will be trouble.’

‘Just a few moments longer.’

Simone shook her head emphatically. ‘No. I’ve done my bit and now you must leave.’

‘I’ll be back soon,’ Meg promised, bending down to kiss Rayner lightly on the lips. ‘Very soon, my darling.’ Outside the ward, she turned on Simone. ‘Why couldn’t you have let me stay just a bit longer?’

Simone jerked her head in the direction of the
matron steaming down the corridor at the head of a ward round. ‘Keep walking and don’t say anything.’

When they were out of earshot, Meg caught Simone by the arm. ‘Now then, tell me everything. Why is he here instead of the military hospital and what exactly is wrong with him?’

‘There were so many casualties, the underground hospital was full and in the beginning the doctors didn’t think he would survive his injuries.’

‘You could have let me know that he was alive.’

‘I’ve got to get back to the ward.’ Simone quickened her pace.

Meg matched her step for step. ‘What exactly were his injuries?’

‘He had a broken leg and ribs, a punctured lung and pneumonia. He was in the water for hours before they picked up the survivors. Your German was lucky.’ Simone came to a sudden halt outside the women’s surgical ward. ‘I’ll be in trouble if I stay a minute longer.’

‘Is he allowed visitors? I must see him again.’

‘It’s a closed ward. No visitors for the Germans, and I can’t smuggle you in again.’

Simone slipped noiselessly into the ward, closing the door behind her.

That night, the sixth of June, they listened to the BBC newscaster informing them that the Allies had landed in France. Pip let out a whoop of joy that made everyone round on him angrily for fear that
Nordhausen might be snooping about outside the morning parlour, but to their surprise and relief nothing happened.

‘At last,’ Charles said with a break in his voice. ‘The war must be coming to an end soon.’

But as the days went by their optimism began to waver. The fighting, which had always seemed so very far away, suddenly came frighteningly close. The once quiet skies screamed with the engines of RAF bombers flying mission after mission to target St Malo. From the vantage point of her bedroom window Meg could see distant plumes of smoke. She could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire and feel the vibrations of the bombs falling. It was a tense time and the Germans appeared to be ill at ease.

Meg said nothing at home but secretly planned her next visit to town when she intended to do whatever it took in order to see Rayner again. As soon as the opportunity arose, she set off early and, having reached the hospital, she walked purposefully through the corridors as if she had every right to be there. She followed a ward maid carrying a mop and bucket and waited and watched as the woman deposited her cleaning tools and her overalls in a room little bigger than a cupboard. When she left, dressed in her faded cotton blouse and patched skirt, Meg slipped inside and put on the discarded cap and apron, tucking her long hair out of sight. She picked up a basket of dusters and cleaning cloths and marched boldly to the ward where she had last seen Rayner.

She could have cried with relief when she saw him. Her fears that he might have been moved were proved groundless. He turned his head as she entered the ward and she knew that he had recognised her, but she bowed her head and made a pretence of dusting the bedside locker of the patient nearest the door. Thankfully he lay sleeping, looking more like a schoolboy than an enemy soldier, and Meg flashed her duster around praying that he would not wake up. She moved on swiftly. There were just two beds separating them now. The soldier in the first bed grumbled at her for disturbing him, and the man in the next bed looked too ill to care what was going on around him. She moved casually to Rayner’s bedside, flapping the piece of cloth ineffectively over the locker.

‘You crazy girl,’ Rayner whispered. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

‘I had to see you again.’ Meg abandoned the duster and pretended to fuss with the sheets so that she could move closer. She closed her eyes and breathed in the achingly familiar scent of him. ‘You’re looking better.’