We'll Meet Again Page 21

  ‘I’m sorry, Pa. I never meant it to end like this.’ She shot an angry glance at Gerald. ‘See what you’ve done.’

  He bowed his head, clenching his hands at his sides. ‘I love you, Meg. You know I love you. I thought you loved me too.’

  ‘Meg, is this true?’ Charles gazed up at her with an agonised look. ‘Were you leading the boy on?’

  ‘I told Gerald then that it was a mistake. I’m very fond of him but I don’t love him and I never could.’

  ‘It’s worse than I could ever have imagined.’ Charles gazed at Gerald, shaking his head. ‘What have I done by allowing you to remain here, my boy? I knew it was a risk but I’d no idea it would turn out this way.’

  ‘I never intended all this to happen, sir.’ Gerald glanced anxiously at Meg. ‘I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.’

  ‘It wasn’t all your fault,’ Meg said with an attempt at a smile.

  ‘I need to see your mother, Gerald,’ Charles said in a hoarse whisper. ‘I can’t do anything to help Captain Weiss, but I may be able to save you.’

  ‘I don’t understand, sir.’

  ‘You will. Now do as I say and hurry.’ Charles leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  Gerald opened the door and the sound of angry voices filtered into the room. Meg clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms as she strained her ears to hear Rayner’s measured tones as he defended his actions.

  ‘Hurry,’ Charles said, motioning Gerald to leave. ‘Fetch Marie quickly, boy.’

  Gerald left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Meg studied her father’s ashen face and was overcome by the need to unburden herself. ‘I’m so sorry about this, Pa. I tried not to fall in love with Rayner but I couldn’t help myself. It all started in Oxford at the May Ball, but we could never have imagined it would end like this.’

  Charles gave her a half-smile. ‘I understand, believe me. More than you think.’

  She laid her hand on his and a shiver ran down her spine. He looked ill and frail and she felt a surge of panic rising in her throat. If only Mother were here, she would know what to do. ‘You should rest, Pa. Let me help you to your room.’

  ‘No, I need to speak to Marie. You go, my dear. I’ll be all right. Marie will look after me.’

  There was nothing Meg could do or say to make him change his mind, and she went out into the hall, almost colliding with Nordhausen.

  ‘You will not be seeing Captain Weiss again, I think.’ He smiled triumphantly.

  ‘What have you told Hauptmann Dressler?’

  ‘Simply the truth, Fräulein Meg.’

  He was obviously enjoying himself and it took all her self-control to remain calm. ‘And what was that, may I ask?’

  ‘Hauptmann Dressler does not approve of officers defiling the daughters of prominent States officials.’

  ‘And does that include your relationship with Simone?’

  ‘Simone is nothing to me. You on the other hand are the daughter of an important man in the eyes of the natives. But even your father’s influence won’t save the fellow who pretends to be your brother.’

  ‘You can’t prove anything.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that. There is also the matter of my friend Grulich’s supposed accident. Don’t think I have forgotten my comrade.’

  ‘I know nothing about that.’ Meg looked him in the eye. She was trembling, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was desperately afraid.

  He leaned closer. ‘You had better be nice to me, Fräulein. I control everything that happens to you and your family now that your lover Captain Weiss has been ordered to the Russian front. He cannot save you. No one can, except yourself.’

  Meg hardly slept at all that night. She drifted off just before dawn but soon after the first rays of sun filtered through the early morning haze she was awakened by the sound of an approaching motor vehicle. She peered out of the window as a German staff car drew up outside and the driver leapt out, saluting the officers waiting on the steps. From above Meg could only see the tops of their peaked caps but she would have known Rayner anywhere. She watched helplessly as he climbed into the staff car, followed by Major Jaeger. One of the privates slammed the door and stood to attention while the driver started the engine and the vehicle drove off. She watched it until it was out of sight. He had gone, taking the most vital part of her with him. Rayner held her heart in his hands and she was left an empty shell.

  She dressed hurriedly and crept downstairs to the kitchen. Corporal Klein had just finished preparing breakfast for the officers. He poured coffee into a tin mug and handed it silently to Meg. She gave him a tired smile.

  ‘Better drink up and keep out of the way this morning, Fräulein,’

  ‘What’s going on, Corporal?’

  ‘Captain Weiss has been transferred to another unit. I don’t know where. I think Major Jaeger has gone too. There’s talk about the Russian front, but you know how soldiers love to gossip.’

  Two days later, Nordhausen was promoted to the rank of captain and soon after that Major von Eschenberg arrived to take Major Jaeger’s place. Meg found it almost impossible to sleep and her appetite deserted her. She blamed herself for Rayner’s fate. If she had kept him at arm’s length instead of allowing her emotions to overrule common sense, he would not have been sent away. Then there was Nordhausen who had the power of life and death over Gerald, but seemed to be enjoying a cat and mouse game with them. Days passed and then weeks without the dreaded summons from Dressler’s office.

  Von Eschenberg appeared to be coldly indifferent to the family, and the small privileges they had enjoyed under Major Jaeger, and interpreted liberally by Rayner, vanished overnight. Nordhausen was left in charge of the day to day running of the manor and he did not bother to hide the fact that he enjoyed making their lives hell. He was too clever to force himself on Meg, but he waged a private war of attrition by constantly shadowing her, making lewd suggestions when no one could hear, and barring her way in the narrow corridors, fumbling her breasts or buttocks and then pretending it was purely accidental. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he carried out the threats of sexual violence that he whispered in her ears. If she had known fear before, she knew now what real terror was and it stalked her by day and night.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nordhausen had ruthlessly abandoned Simone. Meg might have felt sorry for her had she not taken out her spite on the rest of the family and made everyone suffer with her constant bad moods and tantrums.

  It would have helped if Meg had been able to confide in Gerald, but she knew that his hatred of the Germans simmered below the surface like magma beneath the earth’s crust; one careless word, one hint of the torture she was enduring and he would erupt like a volcano, bringing disaster upon them all. She had to live with the knowledge that this was exactly what Nordhausen wanted. She would have liked to tell her father, but his health had begun to deteriorate again as the soft autumn mists were replaced by the chill wind from the Atlantic and October gales wrapped the island in a blanket of rain.

  Charles took to his bed in the middle of the month, racked with bronchitis and bouts of fever. Lack of heating and food had worn them all down to thin shadows. Maud and Bertrand had lost so much weight that they reminded Meg of two old tortoises. Folds of skin hung from their throats and their hooded eyes stared bleakly at the miserable fires of wet twigs or sawdust and the inevitable bowls of cabbage soup.

  Pip spent most of his time hiding in his tiny attic room, venturing downstairs only at mealtimes. The Germans had obviously decided that he was a simpleton and had grown so accustomed to his odd appearance and mannerisms that mostly they left him alone. Jane worked hard doing the extra laundry duties allocated to her by Nordhausen and complained very little nowadays. She seemed to have found a new purpose in life in looking after Jeremy and was all the better for it. Simone remained a problem. Meg was just about at her wits’
end when Dr Gallienne suggested that Major von Eschenberg might allow Simone to return to work. There was, he said, a desperate shortage of trained nurses. Perhaps Simone’s moody presence had even sunk into the consciousness of the aloof von Eschenberg as, to Meg’s surprise and considerable relief, he signed the permit without raising any objections. Simone returned to the hospital, living in the nurses’ quarters and visiting her son occasionally on her days off.

  By November there was still no news of Rayner and no way of finding out what had happened to him. Meg still lived in constant fear of Nordhausen. He appeared when she was least expecting it, like an evil genie of the lamp, to taunt her with threats of exposing Gerald as an impostor. So far he had not seriously molested her, but the leering, lustful expression in his eyes was enough to sicken and terrify her. For her the nightmare lived on.

  Adding to her misery, Nordhausen had commandeered her bicycle, making visits to see Pearl impossible unless she walked, and then von Eschenberg decided that everyone needed a pass if they wanted to leave the grounds. Meg suspected that Nordhausen had something to do with this sudden change of tactics, but all she could do was request a permit and then wait. It seemed like months before she was granted one, although it was only a matter of weeks, and she set out to walk to the Grange, eager to get away from the stultifying atmosphere of the manor house.

  As she reached the outskirts of town she quickened her pace. It was bitterly cold and her mother’s old coat would have gone round her twice. Catching sight of herself in the window of an empty shop Meg grimaced, wondering what Mother and Adele would have said if they could see her now. Strands of hair had escaped from the multicoloured cap that she had painstakingly knitted from scraps of wool. Old jumpers had been unpicked by Maud so that they could be made into gloves, scarves and hideous hats like the one Meg was now wearing. The soles of her shoes were riddled with holes and the uppers were scuffed and coming apart at the seams. Meg could barely remember what it was like to be warm and well dressed. The days when food was plentiful and her belly did not contract with hunger pains were so long gone it seemed like another world. She trudged on, passing people she knew but barely recognised as they went about their daily business looking like gaunt scarecrows.

  When she finally reached the house in the Grange, Hannah ushered her into the drawing room and hobbled away to find Pearl. The cold winter light made the room appear like a scene from a black and white film. The shadowy shapes of the furniture were ghostly memories of the past. Meg felt a lump rising in her throat as she recalled the ecstatic moments that she and Rayner had shared in those scented summer days that seemed like part of her dream world now. Nothing had changed, although everything was just that little bit shabbier. The sofa was still there, bringing back memories of being held in Rayner’s arms and the stolen moments of forbidden love that had made life worth living. Meg sighed. Dwelling on the past too much was surely the path to madness. She shivered, wrapping her coat even tighter around her body. A desultory fire burned in the grate, but it gave out little heat.

  Moments later, Pearl rushed into the room followed by Buster, who jumped up at Meg and licked her face, wagging his tail and grinning. She bent down to make a fuss of him. ‘He still remembers me.’

  ‘Of course he does, darling,’ Pearl said, smiling. ‘He’s missed you and I have too.’ A look of concern puckered her face. ‘You look awful. Are you ill?’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Meg lied, rubbing Buster’s ears and smiling down at him. ‘I’m just cold, and I had to walk all the way. That swine Nordhausen has stolen my bike, blast him.’

  ‘I’ve asked Hannah to bring coffee.’ Pearl sat on the sofa, patting the empty space next to her. ‘Sit down and tell me all about it. Has that brute hurt you?’

  ‘No, he just mumbles obscenities in my ear and leers at me.’ Meg stroked Buster’s head as he settled down at her feet.

  ‘You should report him to the Hauptmann.’

  ‘I can’t, Pearl. He knows too much about Gerald. One word against him and he’ll go to Dressler with the truth.’ She paused as Hannah entered the room carrying a tray of coffee, which she set on the low table in front of the sofa.

  ‘Thank you, Hannah,’ Pearl said, smiling. ‘Hot coffee is just what Meg needs. She’s frozen, poor thing.’

  ‘It’s that ersatz stuff, which isn’t what I’d call coffee, but it’s warm and wet. It’s almost impossible to boil a kettle these days. The gas is so low that there’s barely a flicker.’

  ‘Thank you anyway, Hannah,’ Pearl said hastily. ‘I’m sure it will be lovely.’ She passed a cup to Meg. ‘Drink up, darling, and if it doesn’t poison you, you’ll feel better.’

  Meg managed a smile at the feeble joke and drank some of the bitter liquid; it was sweet and she realised that Hannah had used some of their precious sugar ration to sweeten it. ‘Thank you. This is very good.’

  Hannah nodded grimly. ‘Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing.’

  ‘It’s being so cheerful that keeps her going,’ Pearl said with a chuckle as Hannah left the room. ‘There now, you look a bit better. You’ve got some colour back in your cheeks.’

  Meg put her coffee cup back on its saucer. She had a special reason for visiting Pearl but she did not quite know how to broach the subject. ‘I know you do a lot of volunteer work for the Red Cross, Pearl.’

  ‘Yes, I do. It stops me from going out of my mind with boredom. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered if you’d heard anything about Rayner. I don’t know if he’s still on the island or if they sent him away.’

  Pearl grasped Meg’s hand and her lips curved in an excited smile. ‘I was going to tell you after you’d had time to recover from your long walk. You won’t believe this, darling, but I saw him yesterday.’

  Meg closed her eyes as the room spun dizzily. ‘You – you saw him?’

  ‘Are you all right? You’re not going to pass out or anything like that are you, Meg?’

  The anxious note in Pearl’s voice made Meg struggle for self-control and she nodded. ‘I’m fine. But how did he look? Where did you see him?’

  ‘I happened to be on the quay helping to load Red Cross parcels onto a farm cart and he was standing in a line of men waiting to get on a ship. He must have heard Mrs Gallienne calling to me. She wanted me to run an errand for her, the lazy old cow …’

  Meg raised an impatient hand. ‘What happened then? Did you speak to him?’

  ‘He asked me if I was Pearl Tostevin, and when I said I was he asked if I would give you a message.’

  ‘Don’t keep me in suspense. What did he say?’

  ‘He said “Folly Bridge.” Honestly, darling, that’s all he said, and anyway there was a horrid-looking German sergeant poking him in the back and making him move on up the gangplank with the others.’

  ‘Folly Bridge,’ Meg repeated slowly.

  ‘Does that mean something to you?’

  ‘It means everything. Are you sure he didn’t say anything else?’

  ‘He didn’t have a chance.’

  ‘Where were they taking him?’

  ‘Darling, if I knew that I’d be Mata blooming Hari. At least you know he’s still alive.’

  ‘Yes,’ Meg murmured, as the reality of his situation hit her with full force. ‘But for how long?’

  Even though he was far away from her, the knowledge that Rayner was alive and well kept Meg going through the long, dark winter days. It gave her the courage to go on and helped her to be patient when the family looked to her for comfort and guidance. Life was simplified into a daily struggle to find enough food to eat and fuel of any kind to make the smallest amount of heat needed to survive. Charles was confined to bed and at times was so ill that Meg thought he was going to die, but somehow he managed to keep his tenacious hold on life and as the spring sunshine brought a fine mist of green to the trees he began a slow recovery that Meg thought little short of a miracle.

  She had come to an unspoken truce with Gerald and it was a r
elief to have him as a friend and ally in their uncertain world. He seemed to have accepted the fact that there was not, and never could be, any chance of a romance between them. Meg never spoke about Rayner to anyone other than Pearl, but that didn’t stop her thinking about him constantly. She wore his necklace like a talisman, never taking it off even at night.

  As the tender green leaves unfurled and the cherry blossom opened in a cloudburst of pink, a surge of optimism filled the air as rumours circulated that the Allies were close to invading France. Pip’s crystal set had kept them in touch with the outside world during the long winter and now, with the hope that the end of the war might be getting nearer, there was for the first time in four years a low-grade buzz of excitement rippling through the long food queues. Meg saw haggard faces beginning to smile again.

  It was with renewed optimism that she set out one morning with the permit that allowed her to go into St Peter Port safely tucked in her handbag together with the shopping list that Marie had given her more in hope than expectation. Halfway down the drive she stopped to take off her shoe and shake out a piece of gravel. She grimaced as she slipped it back on. The leather was scuffed and not so long ago the shoes would have been consigned to the dustbin, but just when she had thought them past repair, Gerald had given them a new lease of life by sewing on soles cut from an old rubber tyre. Although each step felt odd and strangely springy, it was far more comfortable than walking on lumps of matted cardboard. She set off again and had just reached the gates when Nordhausen sprang out from the stand of Spanish oaks and caught her by the arm.

  ‘Let me go.’ Anger replaced fear as she attempted to free herself. ‘How dare you jump out on me like that?’

  He grinned. ‘You have such spirit. I love a woman with fire.’

  ‘Let me go, Captain Nordhausen. I have a permit to go into St Peter Port signed by Major von Eschenberg himself.’

  He released her with a casual flick of his wrist. ‘I find it very interesting that you spend so much time in town. Surely there is not much there for a lady like you. Now if it was Simone LeFevre then I could understand it, but you, Fräulein Meg, what do you do in St Peter Port all by yourself? Do you go there to meet someone? Perhaps your brother?’