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Authors: Lily Baxter

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BOOK: We'll Meet Again
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‘I’d love a beer, please.’

‘Meg, would you like a drink?’

‘I’m surprised I’m allowed to.’

‘It’s all forgotten now, darling.’ Josie selected a cut-glass decanter and was about to pour the sherry when Adele entered the room with Frank.

Meg was quick to note that they were holding hands, and she could tell by the glow on Adele’s cheeks and the sparkle in her dark eyes that something momentous had occurred amongst the potted palms and Boston ferns.

‘Aunt Josie, Meg, Walter,’ Adele said breathlessly. ‘We’ve got something to tell you.’

‘What’s going on?’ David demanded when he joined them in the drawing room moments later. ‘Yesterday everyone was gloomy and now you’re all grinning like idiots, except you, of course, Aunt Josie. You could never look anything but perfect. Have I missed something?’

‘You’re just in time,’ Josie said happily. ‘Adele and Frank have just become engaged – unofficially of course, my dear, until Frank has spoken to your father.’

Meg held her breath, willing David to say something nice. She watched warily as he strode across the floor towards the newly engaged couple, and she sighed with relief when he kissed Adele on both cheeks and shook Frank’s hand. ‘Congratulations, old boy. I’m very happy for you.’

Josie clapped her hands. ‘This is a marvellous end to the girls’ holiday, especially after the slight contretemps at the ball, but that’s all forgotten now. We’re having a small celebration, David. Freda’s just gone to fetch the champagne.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait until Uncle Paul gets home?’ Adele asked anxiously. ‘He might be upset if we start without him.’

Josie’s smile faded and Meg saw that her aunt’s fingers shook slightly as she attempted to fix a cigarette into an onyx holder. ‘Paul telephoned to say he’d be a little late. Pressure of work, you know. But there’s no law against opening another bottle when he gets home, is there?’

They opened two more bottles of champagne when Paul arrived, and the events at the May Ball seemed to have been forgotten, but as Meg glanced at their happy faces she could not help thinking that no one seemed to care that Rayner was absent and excluded from the celebrations. The family had apparently written him off like a bad debt and he was forgotten. It seemed terribly unfair that she was not even allowed to say goodbye to him. She sipped her
champagne but it tasted sour and the bubbles shot up her nose making her want to cry. Perhaps Rayner did not care that she was returning home in disgrace tomorrow; after all, he had made no attempt to see her. He had not even sent a message with Walter or Frank. Maybe he thought she was a tiresome young girl who was simply not worth bothering about, and that the attention he had paid her at the ball had merely been an attempt to while away a boring evening.

‘Cheer up, Meg, it may never happen,’ David said, refilling her glass.

David and Walter were quite drunk by the end of the evening, and they were waiting for Frank to drive them back to their lodgings, but he had taken Adele for a moonlit walk in the garden and they had been gone for a very long time. Meg stood in the doorway, hugging her arms about her chest and shivering in her thin cotton dress. Aunt Josie had gone to find Frank and Addie and Uncle Paul had retired to his study to make an important telephone call. Walter had managed to stagger down the front steps, but was now sitting with his head held in his hands, groaning.

‘Goodbye, Meg,’ David said, leaning casually against the door jamb. ‘Try to behave yourself on the way home.’

She chose to ignore this unfair jibe. ‘Have you seen Rayner since the other night, David? It really wasn’t his fault.’

‘I know that.’ Suddenly sober, he put his arms round her. ‘Listen to me. There’s going to be a war whether we like it or not. Rayner knows that too, and he also knows that we’ll be on different sides. He’s going back to Germany at the end of term. Forget him, Meg. Go home and put all this behind you. You’ll never see him again.’

CHAPTER FOUR

Meg paused by the gilt mirror in the oak-panelled hall of Colivet Manor, patting her hair in place. She had decided to forego her early morning ride in order to present herself at breakfast on time and neatly turned out. She had suffered a long lecture from both parents when they returned from the mainland. Aunt Josie had telephoned simply to tell them that the girls would be returning earlier than expected, but apparently Mother had dragged the truth out of her with the ruthless efficiency of Torquemada, the Spanish Grand Inquisitioner. If it had not been for Adele, who had championed her valiantly, Meg was certain that she would have been put in the metaphorical corner until she was at least twenty-one. Addie had put the blame squarely on Rayner’s shoulders despite Meg’s murmured protests. Their father had listened in silence, but had said judiciously that no real harm was done and the matter should be forgotten. Their mother was not so forgiving, but Adele’s good news eclipsed the whole sorry affair at the May Ball and Meg found herself, as usual, pushed into the background, for which she was truly grateful.

It was almost a week since they had arrived back on the island and Meg was deeply disappointed by Rayner’s apparent abandonment of her. She had told no one, not even Adele, that her reason for leaving the ball and driving into the night alone with Rayner was quite simple. She had followed her heart. No one seemed to think it odd that Adele and Frank had fallen in love at first sight, but she knew if she were to claim that for her it had also been a coup de foudre, Mother would tell her that she was being ridiculous. She would say that it was a childish crush on a totally unsuitable young man, and Pa would warn her, just as David had done, that when the inevitable hostilities started Rayner Weiss would be on the opposing side.

Stretching the taut muscles of her face into a smile, Meg went slowly into the dining room, where her parents and Adele were seated at the table finishing their meal. As always, Muriel Colivet was immaculately turned out, in a paisley silk dress, complemented by a double row of pearls and matching earrings. With her flawless maquillage and her blonde hair piled high on her head in an elaborate coiffure, she would not have looked out of place at a state banquet. Meg sighed. She knew she could never live up to her mother’s high standards.

Muriel glanced up from buttering a slice of toast. ‘I hope you’re going to do something other than mope around the house today, Meg. You’ve been in a mood ever since you returned from Oxford. You’re
lucky that you’re too old to be punished for your outrageous behaviour. I don’t know why you can’t be more like your sister.’

‘I’m sorry, Mother.’ Helping herself to bacon and scrambled eggs from silver breakfast dishes on the gleaming mahogany sideboard, Meg took her plate and went to sit beside Adele.

‘You look very nice this morning,’ Adele said, making an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere. ‘You should wear that shade of blue more often.’

‘It makes a change to see her out of those dreadful jodhpurs for once,’ Muriel said, frowning.

‘I should be hearing from Frank any day now, Mother.’ Adele smiled sympathetically at Meg as she skilfully changed the subject to something much dearer to their mother’s heart. ‘He said he would come here as soon as humanly possible.’

‘That’s splendid, darling.’ Muriel cocked her head on one side. ‘I think I just heard the rattle of the letter box. Perhaps you’ll hear from him today.’

Adele leapt to her feet. ‘I do hope so. I’ll go and see.’ She hurried from the room.

Charles Colivet peered at them from behind his copy of
The Times
. ‘What’s all the fuss about? Can’t a fellow read his paper in peace at his own breakfast table?’

Muriel dabbed her lips with a cream damask table napkin. ‘Adele has gone to fetch the post, dear. She’s waiting to hear from Frank.’

He turned the page with an exasperated sigh. ‘I dislike it intensely when people rush about at breakfast time.’

Adele walked slowly back into the dining room carefully sorting through the mail. She uttered a squeak. ‘This one’s for me.’ Dropping the rest of the correspondence on the table in front of Meg, she studied the postmark. ‘It must be from Frank. May I leave the table, Mother?’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘It looks as if you have already.’

Muriel shot him one of her Medusa glances, as Meg and Adele had dubbed them, which would turn any ordinary mortal into stone. ‘Of course, Addie. Don’t take any notice of your father. He’s as delighted about your engagement as I am.’

‘You’re forgetting that I haven’t given my consent yet, Muriel.’

‘But of course you will, dear.’

‘That all depends on the young man. When I’ve met him and had an in-depth discussion about his prospects I’ll decide then.’ Charles held his hand out to Meg who was sorting the rest of the mail. ‘Anything for me?’

She handed him a pile of envelopes, but realising she had missed one she picked it up, and was about to give it to her father when she saw that it was addressed to her. She stared at the unfamiliar writing and her heart did a funny little flip inside her chest.

‘You wouldn’t say no, would you, Pa?’ Adele’s bottom lip quivered ominously.

‘I expect I shall like him, Adele, if you do. Now run along and read your letter, there’s a good girl.’

‘You shouldn’t tease her, Charles,’ Muriel said when Adele was out of earshot. ‘You know that she’s sensitive just like me.’

‘Is she, my dear? I can’t say I’d noticed.’

Muriel turned to Meg, frowning. ‘Your breakfast is getting cold, Meg. I don’t know who’s writing to you, but put it away now and eat your food. It’s very rude to read at table.’

Meg glanced at her father and he raised his eyebrows with a wry smile. It was obvious that he knew the barbed comment was aimed his way, but as usual he did not bother to retaliate. Meg laid the envelope on her lap out of her mother’s range of vision and she studied it while she ate. The postmark was smudged and illegible, but the envelope was addressed in bold Gothic script. She hardly dared hope that it was from Rayner, and the food stuck in her throat, but she ate as quickly as she dared without incurring a lecture from her mother. She was about to ask permission to leave the table when the door burst open and Adele reappeared, waving a piece of paper. ‘Frank is coming to Guernsey next week, Mother. He and Walter are going to stay in St Peter Port for a few days.’

‘How lovely, dear. Isn’t that good news, Charles?’

‘What is?’

‘Frank Barton is coming to the island next week.’

‘Splendid. I’m going to my study, Muriel.’ Charles folded his newspaper and picked up the post. He rose from his chair. ‘I’m in court this afternoon, but this morning I’m working from home. I don’t want to be disturbed.’ He left the room unnoticed by Muriel and Adele, who were happily discussing Frank’s forthcoming visit.

Meg seized the opportunity to follow him. She slipped out of the house and went straight to the stables. Sitting on a bale of straw she ripped the envelope and stared at the single sheet of paper.

Christ Church, Oxford
4 May, 1939

Dear Meg
,

I feel I owe you an apology for the trouble caused by our midnight drive. I hope you did not get into ‘hot water’, as David calls it, when you arrived home in Guernsey. I wanted to apologise in person but as you did not come to Folly Bridge, I suppose you are still angry with me. David says he cannot remember if he gave you my note or not but I am assuming that he did. I hope we will meet again, although as things are at the moment I am afraid it looks unlikely. Whatever happens, I shall never forget Meg in her gold dress or with waterweed in her hair
.

My best wishes to you and your sister
,

Rayner Weiss
.

Meg read and reread the letter. She could hardly believe that he had wanted to see her again or that David had forgotten to give her the note that might have changed her life. She had lain in bed every night since the May Ball reliving the terrifying, yet wonderful, feeling as Rayner had snatched her from the clutching fingers of the waterweed. If she closed her eyes she could recall the moment when his strong arms had enfolded her and propelled her to the surface of the greedy Thames. She could not forget the electric charge that she had felt as he held her close in the erotic rhythm of the tango, or the quiet intimacy of the drive through the night in the white Rolls-Royce. He had wanted to meet her on Folly Bridge where they had begun the fateful river trip that might have ended her life, and all this time he must have been thinking that she did not want to see him again. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Waiting at the ferry terminal for Frank and Walter, Meg tried hard not to begrudge Adele her happiness. If their roles had been reversed and she had been waiting for Rayner, Meg knew that she would have been hopping up and down with excitement. Even so, she wouldn’t have changed her dress half a dozen times as Adele had done, very nearly causing them to arrive late. Now a picture of serenity, looking as though she had stepped off the cover of
Vogue
, Adele stood on the quay holding her
pert little straw boater to prevent it from being tugged off by the boisterous breeze. The full skirt of her cream shantung dress billowed about her slender figure like a spinnaker on a yacht, and Meg wished now that she had taken the trouble to change out of her jodhpurs and white cotton shirt. Looking down at her feet, she realised that her riding boots were still covered with mud and dust from the stables. Balancing on one leg at a time, she wiped the toe of each boot on the tough material that encased her calves.

‘I think I can see Frank,’ Adele cried excitedly.

Meg shielded her eyes from the sun. ‘And there’s Walter standing beside him. What a pity David couldn’t come too.’

Adele shot her a knowing glance. ‘And Rayner, maybe? You really liked him, didn’t you, Meg?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I liked him, but it’s okay. I’m not silly enough to think anything could come of it. Anyway, don’t worry about me. You’ve got Frank now, and I’m happy for you.’

Adele reached out to squeeze her hand. ‘You’re not such a bad little sister. I’m sorry if I used to tease you and pull your plaits.’

BOOK: We'll Meet Again
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