We'll Meet Again (38 page)

‘You’re amazing, Josie.’

She threw back her head and laughed. ‘I am, aren’t I, darling. And tomorrow you can come and lend a hand. It will take your mind off that young man of yours.’

‘I just wish I could find out where he is and if he’s all right.’

‘Maybe Walter would know.’

‘Walter?’

‘You remember Walter. The boys were inseparable, as I recall. Anyway, poor Walter suffered a dreadful injury when he was clearing landmines in Normandy. He lost his right leg below the knee and he was discharged from the army over a year ago.’

‘Poor Walter. How dreadful.’

‘He’s made a marvellous recovery, poor dear, and makes jokes about his peg leg. He’s been terribly brave about the whole thing and now he’s back in his old college finishing his degree.’

Meg felt a surge of renewed optimism. Walter had been close to Rayner. He had been planning to visit the family in Dresden before the outbreak of war put a stop to such things. If anyone knew how to contact Rayner, it would be Walter. ‘Do you know where I can find him?’

‘He comes to tea every Sunday afternoon and we have long talks. He’s a dear boy and he’s helped me enormously. He’ll be delighted to see you, Meg. He always had a soft spot for you.’

‘I liked him too, but that’s as far as it ever went.’

Josie shrugged and drained her glass. ‘Well, who knows? Anyway, tomorrow I’ll take you to my little shop and we’ll find you something more suitable to wear than that frightful thing. Frankly, darling, it’s only fit for the dustbin.’

‘But I haven’t any clothing coupons.’

‘Not to worry. I have a nice line in second-hand gowns that I keep for special clients. No coupons needed, you just have to promise not to wear them where you’ll meet
any of my snooty friends.’ Josie tapped the side of her nose and began to giggle. ‘Oh dear, I’m quite blotto, sorry. I meant to keep sober tonight of all nights. Ring for Grace, will you, darling? I need some of Mrs Sparks’ Woolton pie to sop up the alcohol.’

Madame Elizabeth’s, now renamed simply Josephine, had changed almost beyond recognition. Josie had replaced the red floor covering and spindly gold chairs with coffee and cream carpet and stylish art deco armchairs in chocolate-brown leather that she had bought in a house sale. The fitting rooms were lined with floor-length mirrors and everywhere there were vases of fresh flowers and planters spilling over with ladder ferns and tradescantia. It soon became obvious to Meg that Josie was a shrewd businesswoman, and, once inside her shop, she changed from the languid social butterfly into a hard-headed but charming saleswoman. She had lost none of her generosity though, and Meg was soon kitted out with a wardrobe that went beyond her wildest expectations.

‘Can’t have you letting the side down,’ Josie said, standing back and critically appraising a slim-fitting dress in dove-grey moiré that Meg was modelling to great effect. ‘That’s very elegant. Just the sort of thing my assistant would wear.’

‘I didn’t think you had an assistant.’

‘I have now, darling. And there goes the shop bell. Why don’t you begin right away?’

*

It was fun. Meg had to admit that working with Josie was the most enjoyable thing she had done in years. Some of the clients were stuck-up and patronising but others were charming and a pleasure to serve. Meg had never thought of herself as being interested in fashion, but it was a welcome change from the hard physical labour of working on the farm, and she discovered another side to herself. The artistic and sensuous part of her personality that had never had a chance to develop now revelled in the touch of silk, satin and velvet. Her eyes feasted on the vibrant primary colours, the rainbow shades, and the subtle taupe and stark black and white. She wasn’t a bad saleswoman either, she thought, as she danced around the shop after her first sale. She threw the handful of crisp pound notes into the air with a joyous whoop. She did not hear the shop bell in her excitement, but when she realised that someone was standing in the doorway she stopped cavorting and turned slowly, her hand automatically flying to smooth her hair back into the sleek pageboy style that Josie’s hairdresser had expertly shaped.

‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ Walter said, grinning. ‘It’s fantastic to see you again, Meg.’

‘Walter.’ Forgetting that she was supposed to behave with decorum, she rushed to his side and gave him a hug, almost knocking him off balance. ‘I’m so sorry. I forgot about your …’

‘My peg leg? Don’t worry. I’m getting used to it.’

She moved away and bent down to retrieve the notes. She did not want him to see the tears of pity that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Poor Walter. Why did it have to happen to someone like him? She swallowed hard and went to the till to stash the notes away. ‘Josie tells me you’ve helped her through a bad time.’

‘And she’s helped me too. She’s a wonderful person, Meg, and that rotter of a husband of hers didn’t deserve her.’

She shot him a curious look, wondering if there was more to his relationship with Josie than either of them acknowledged. She had suspected as much years ago, but had abandoned the idea as being ridiculous. Her aunt was gorgeous, but even though she was many years younger than Uncle Bertie and Pa, she must be at least ten or twelve years Walter’s senior. ‘You’ve seen a lot of Josie recently?’ she said casually.

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he made his way to the nearest chair and eased himself into it. ‘We’ve supported each other through the bad times. I doubt if I’d have got through the first term back at Trinity if she hadn’t alternately bullied and sweet-talked me into it. Anyway, that’s enough about me. I want to hear everything that has happened to you. You must have had a terrible time.’

Meg cleared her throat. There was only one question she wanted to ask him, but her mouth had gone dry and she struggled to find a way to bring
Rayner’s name into the conversation. She glanced at her wristwatch.

‘It’s lunch time,’ Walter said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘I’m sure Josie won’t mind if I take you out for something to eat.’

‘She went to buy flowers for the shop. She should be back soon.’

‘Then I’ll wait and perhaps we can all go together.’

Meg gave up trying to be subtle. ‘Have you – I mean – I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Rayner?’

‘I have as a matter of fact. Had a letter only last week. Poor chap, he lost both his parents when Dresden was bombed.’

‘I’m so sorry. How awful for him.’ Meg sat down suddenly. ‘But he wrote to you, Walter. Where is he?’

Walter leaned forward, his brow puckered into a worried frown. ‘Are you okay, Meg? You’ve gone a funny colour.’

‘Is he all right? Do you know where he is now?’

‘Brazil?’ Meg almost fell off her seat.

‘Yes. Apparently there was nothing left for him in Dresden, and his uncle has always wanted him to help run the coffee plantation, so off he went.’

Meg’s heart was doing a fandango inside her ribcage. She could not believe that Rayner would have done such a thing without letting her know. ‘Have you still got the letter?’

Walter shook his head. ‘I read it and then I burnt it. Ridiculous, I know, but quite honestly, I didn’t want anyone to find me in possession of a letter from a German. Feelings still run high, you know.’

‘But Rayner was your friend.’

‘And still is, but some people might get the wrong idea.’

‘That’s appalling.’

‘Yes, you’re right, but I’m afraid that was my first reaction. I did write back though and wished him well.’

‘Can you remember his address?’

‘I can’t and I didn’t write it down either. Anyway, why the interest? I’d have thought after five years of living under German occupation you’d be glad to see
the back of them all. Unless …’ He gave her a shrewd glance. ‘He said that he’d sat out the war in Guernsey. Is there something going on between you two, Meg?’

She was about to deny it when the shop door opened and Josie breezed in with her arms full of flowers. Her face lit up when she saw Walter, and he struggled to his feet with a smile that convinced Meg that her suspicions were well founded. The air fairly crackled around them, and it was obvious that the only person on his mind was Josie.

‘Let me take you both out to lunch,’ he said, relieving Josie of several bunches of dahlias. He set them down on the bow-fronted bird’s-eye maple desk that served as a counter.

‘I’ll get a vase and put them in water first,’ Josie said, blowing him a kiss as she disappeared through the curtained archway.

All Meg wanted at this moment was to be left alone as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that Rayner had left Europe without bothering to contact her. He had written to Walter, but had not seen fit to send her so much as a postcard. Despite his promise to love her forever it looked as if it was all over between them. Perhaps the death of his parents in the bombing raid had been too much for him to bear. Her spirits plummeted to a new depth of despair, and the prospect of having lunch with two people who couldn’t take their eyes off each other was even more depressing.

‘Meg, come on,’ Walter said cheerfully. ‘We’re ready to leave.’

Josie and Walter were standing in the doorway, waiting for her. She felt as if her lifeblood was draining away from an invisible internal wound, but she must put on a brave face. She had lived through the hardships and terrors of the occupation; she would live through this too. ‘I’m coming.’

Josie’s divorce came through just before Christmas. Walter had somewhat unwillingly decided that he would return to his parents’ home for the vacation. On the day of his departure, Meg watched as he and Josie parted with self-conscious pecks on the cheek. It was obvious that their feelings for each other ran deep, but they both appeared to be in denial. Meg wondered when, if ever, they would admit that they were hopelessly in love. That evening, Josie had drunk far too much before, during and after dinner. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, but when her snoring became too much for Meg to bear, she shook her aunt awake. After giving her a much-needed lecture on the stupidity of drinking herself to an early death, Meg informed her that they were going to Guernsey for Christmas whether Josie liked it or not.

The manor house was a chaotic mix of adults and over-excited children. Meg was staggered to find that her mother had allowed Maud and Bertrand to stay
on. Muriel appeared to tolerate them as if they were a pair of garden gnomes who were not much use and not very pretty, but served some indefinable purpose of their own. Everyone else had been slotted neatly into their places like silver cutlery in a mahogany canteen. Gerald seemed happy enough in his new job, taking over almost exactly where Eric had left off, but with the promise, so he told Meg with a pleased grin, that eventually he would inherit his fair share of the estate.

Jane was now well established in the nursery suite caring for Jeremy who also seemed to have been absorbed into the extended Colivet family; so much so that Meg wondered whether Simone had been another of her father’s little mistakes and had nothing at all to do with Eric. She hastily pushed the idea to the back of her mind as being unworthy. Jeremy was not alone in the nursery as Adele and Frank had arrived a day or two earlier, bringing with them their twin daughters Amy and Lucy and their son, Francis, a noisy and demanding two-year-old.

Pip had been elevated from being the Guernsey joke to Muriel’s devoted follower and handyman. Meg was compelled to inspect his work on the stables where, with the help of Billy and Joe, he had dismantled all the bunks erected by the German soldiers and taken down the partitions. They were now restoring the stalls to their former use.

Marie was still undisputed queen of the kitchen, and to Meg’s surprise was now living in at the
manor, having decided to let out her house in Hauteville. Meg suspected that her mother would not have sanctioned Marie’s continued presence in the house had she not been such an excellent cook and therefore totally irreplaceable. Nevertheless, her admiration for her mother’s stoic handling of the situation grew by the hour.

The drawing room had been cleaned and redecorated. The Aubusson carpet had been re-laid and Muriel’s precious collection of porcelain figurines had been brought down from the attics. The silver-framed family photographs were now in their right places on top of the Steinway, which bore a few scars and cigarette burns but these had been polished almost out of existence. Meg sighed appreciatively; only Mother could have brought about this transformation in such a short time. It was good to be home but only for a visit; deep in her heart she knew that there was no real place for her here. She would always be welcome, she knew that, but Mother was the undisputed mistress of the house and there was no room for a rival, not even a much-loved daughter.

Her father had been delighted to see her and Meg was pleased to see that he had gained weight and appeared to be much fitter. He had reopened his chambers in St Peter Port, attending daily, even if it was just an attempt to escape from Muriel’s unrelenting campaign to restore Colivet Manor to its former glory. Meg realised, with a tinge of jealousy,
which she quickly pushed to the back of her mind, that without her mother there to organise his life, the father she had always adored had been, despite his academic brilliance and personal charm, only half a man. His love for Marie had matured into an enduring and mutual friendship, which his wife accepted with surprisingly good grace. They were a ménage à trois in a way that might baffle anyone who did not understand their history.

Adele was happily rotund in the sixth month of her latest pregnancy, but still managed to wrap her devoted Frank around her little finger. Then there was David, who seemed just the same as ever, except for the deeply etched furrows on his forehead and the tracery of fine lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes. But the rigours of war had not blunted his boundless enthusiasm for life or his sense of fun, and he was obviously very much in love with Sonia. Meg realised within a few moments of meeting her brother’s fiancée that this was the one and only girl as far as he was concerned, and she herself took an instant liking to Sonia. Even Adele and Mother, who on occasions in the past had behaved like a witches’ coven and ganged up against David’s former girlfriends, seemed unable to find anything in his fiancée to criticise. Meg sometimes caught them watching Sonia closely as if waiting to pounce on the tiniest of social blunders, but Sonia never seemed to make mistakes. She was so patently good-natured and eager to please that
even Maud and Bertrand were charmed by her. The children rushed to greet her whenever she came into the room, sticking to her like burrs on a dog’s coat, and had to be physically prised off when David wanted Sonia to himself.