Sea Gem (29 page)

‘I don’t suppose I’m allowed to ask questions?’

He shook his head. ‘You accept it all at face value.’

He indicated he had plenty of time with another headshake and Mary stood up.

‘Give me ten minutes,’ she said. ‘Stay here while I stroll. It doesn’t take me long to reach a decision, especially one like this.’

‘Go ahead,’ he encouraged. It would suit him admirably to learn her decision right away before his next weekend trip to see his daughter.

Mary strolled off to one side until she was well away from him. She bent down, pulled a blade of grass and idly started bending it while her mind raced. What he had said was all so encompassing
she still found it difficult to assimilate his statements. Only for the fact she had known him for all these long years and found him worthy and true was she able to believe his opinions. The
thought of another war chilled her blood.

She knew she was flattered by his proposal but also filled with apprehension. If astute people could see war clouds looming again, surely everyone must help. But why had he approached her? She
argued with herself that a man in this position knew a great many people. He must have considered them all before alighting on herself, which does not, she thought gloomily, speak much for the rest
of the islanders. Or did it? He was a very clever man. Could he see something in her that she was not even aware of? It was a rather disconcerting thought.

Mary stood with her back towards him, eyes staring at the sea but not seeing it. She could feel something growing inside and knew her decision had been reached. She turned on her heel and
strolled back, dropping the twisted grass blade. Stopping a couple of paces from him, she looked him full in the eye.

‘I’ll do what I can willingly but I don’t think you’ve made a brilliant choice with me. I cannot see I have the necessary skills,’ she said, then slowly sat at the
far side of the form and waited.

A slow smile broke on his face and he nodded but more to himself than her. It was always so very satisfactory to be proved right in the end.

‘You are quite sure?’

Mary nodded firmly. ‘Positive!’ she reassured him, then threw him a lopsided grin. ‘I’ve done some odd jobs in my time but this one looks like taking the biscuit with a
vengeance.’

‘Right!’ he said, going serious. ‘Lesson number one. Know your territory as well as the back of your hand. Know it in such detail you could find your way around it at night.
Stroll the beaches and coves. You have three children. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to help you explore. Rule number two, never stand out like a sore thumb if you can help it.
Sometimes a situation develops which makes this difficult though. Rule number three, teach yourself to observe. Train your mind. When you go out memorise how many specific types of trees, shrubs,
flowers and birds you see. How many trees on some crossroads, for example. It doesn’t matter what exercise you use except that it should involve abilities to develop the brain and store
information. Teach your eyes, ears and other senses to function together and finally, rule number four, if you should ever be activated, trust no one. Naturally, you talk to no one either,’
he added dryly. ‘You might never be needed but if you are called upon, Britain will want what your brain can collect, collate and pass on. Naturally should this ever arise you will be paid,
that goes without saying.’

Mary nodded, not taking much notice of the latter point about which she did not particularly care anyhow. She still thought that perhaps greater seriousness was being given to the current
political situation than it warranted until she remembered the assassination that had started the First World War.

She spoke slowly, concentrating carefully. ‘It’s obvious that I’ll not be the only person here, or on the other islands or even in France and naturally I don’t want to
know who they are but there is one point. I had been toying with the idea of looking for a town flat for holiday lets in case some people want to be nearer restaurants and night life. I think now
it might be more useful if I found a flat which I could keep for myself. A town base if you like.’

‘That could be expensive,’ he pointed out. ‘A lot more expensive than doing up a cottage.’

Mary shook her head. ‘Not if I can find one over a shop and buy both together. A shop which could be run by a young girl and later on perhaps by my daughter. I don’t think she knows
exactly what she wants to do when she leaves school. She might, of course, pick university because her exam marks are high but, on the other hand, she could well not chose higher education. In
which case, a shop could be something for her to get her teeth into while she decides what to do. Also with three children at home plus Amelia, Raoul’s wife, coming in daily, there is often
little privacy if anyone wished to call on me. My home can be as busy as The Pollet on a Saturday at times.’

‘What would you sell?’ he asked shrewdly.

Mary did not hesitate. ‘Produce from the glasshouses instead of shipping all of it to England and what all holiday makers seem to want—newspapers.’

James could see the advantage of such a place. It was true she could always call at his practice on official legal business but it was always prudent to have a second venue. Although he had his
telephone, he also had his addresses in England about which his family knew nothing.

‘Good!’ he grunted. ‘When you find a place let me have the details. In the meanwhile learn all about this island and the others,’ he told her firmly.

‘If this awful day does come, as you seem to fear, I take it I would report to you?’

‘You would receive the appropriate instructions beforehand. For the time being, apart from the mental training I want you to give yourself, we will not discuss this again. If something
should crop up, I will raise the subject, with you, is that clear?’

Mary studied him, realising she had been given her first order. Her eyebrows lifted but she nodded. Somehow he seemed so much older than his years.

‘It’s understood,’ she replied evenly.

He stood slowly and looked at his watch. ‘Come, I’ll walk you back down the hill. I have a client due shortly.’

Mary had nothing to say as they headed back down the road though her mind buzzed with speculation. Surely it was all too pessimistic—or was it? She resolved to pay even more attention to
current affairs on the wireless.

He stopped on the road. ‘I’ll get on my way to my car, Madam,’ he told her gripping her hand. ‘Thank you—for a conversation which has never taken place.’

Sam and his old friend had talked themselves dry and sat watching the sea, both of them basking in the sun. It was not what could be called warm but up here, sheltered even
from a breeze, Sam’s balcony was comfortable.

Louise eyed him carefully as he started the rigmarole with his pipe. She was quietly shocked. Sam seemed older than herself although he was in fact several years younger. There was also
something about him that she did not like but she knew better than to mention her worry. She had noticed how stiffly he moved as if all his joints were gripped by rheumatism but it was his face
which gave the game away. He lacked the healthy red colour and she fancied she could detect a slight blue pallor. She also saw how he favoured his arm as if it pained him. She had lived too long
and seen too much not to recognise the signs of a slowly weakening heart. Sometime in the near future, dear old Sam would leave her.

When Mary came running up the stairs to join them Louise’s face was smooth. ‘Business done then?’ she asked quietly. Mary seemed tense, more than a little on edge. Surely she
had not bumped into Victor?

‘Not quite,’ Mary said sitting down on a nearby cane stool. ‘I’m going to buy a shop.’

The old people looked at her blankly. This was utterly out of character and they stared at each other. Had she gone mad? As if she didn’t have enough to do.

Mary read their thoughts and hastened to explain herself, censoring her conversation as she now realised she must always do.

It was Louise who first saw the advantage. ‘You might be on to something. Margaret could run it if she doesn’t want to go for higher education. I think she’d have a flair for
commerce but what’s put all this in your head?’

Mary shrugged noncommittally. ‘It’s been there a while actually but I wanted to consider it in depth before I spoke to both of you. But where though? Do you know somewhere suitable,
Sam, in town?’

Sam still knew as much about island activities as ever. He had a succession of old cronies who came to visit with their smelly pipes and Mary swore their tongues wagged far worse than
women’s ever could.

‘I might,’ he said slowly, ‘it’s not big though,’ Sam added hastily.

‘I don’t want anything too large,’ Mary explained. ‘A shop with a good backroom for storage and perhaps a couple of rooms overhead.’

‘I’ve heard of a place down south of St Martins,’ Sam told her, ‘not far from Jerbourg Road and Sausmarez Manor. It might suit you but I don’t have any idea what
the asking price will be,’ Sam warned her. ‘The owner is old and wishes to retire because she was widowed a few weeks ago. It’s a small general stores but it might have potential
for you.’

Mary stood up quickly. She felt it imperative to go and look right away.

‘I’ll come back for you, Tante!’ she told Louise briskly, then was gone before Louise could ask to come with her. Suddenly Mary wanted to do this quite alone. Although Tante
was shrewd, there were times when Mary yearned to make her own decisions without discussing them with anyone else. Ruefully the old lady understood but made no comment. This was one of the
penalties of age but sometimes the young had to learn from their own mistakes. She hoped Mary was not about to put her foot in it.

As soon as Mary had parked her car she walked the area, observing the layout of the roads and the few houses, studying the bus routes and working out where the nearest beaches were. It was also
near to the centre of St Peter Port, so the location could hardly be bettered. She guessed it was a tiny lock-up shop at the moment because there was a shabby air about the upper windows which had
not been cleaned in a long time. When she entered, a bell gave a tinny clang and as she stood, her eye ran over a general air of dilapidation.

A rear door opened and a small woman appeared to eye her hopefully. Mary placed her in her early sixties, noting the white hair, a face starting to wrinkle and two dainty hands that already wore
brown age spots. A pair of very sharp, keen brown eyes fixed her questioningly.

‘I’m Madam Noyen junior,’ Mary began, knowing this was not a good start because their well-known name could put the price up but too many people knew her personally. ‘I
understand these premises are for sale?’

The brown eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘I’m Madam Martell,’ came back to Mary who suddenly realised she was being sized up like an opponent. Her heart sank. She recognised the
breed immediately. This was a typical islander who would be stubborn, obdurate and who knew the value of every penny. She took a deep breath knowing she must have her wits about her with this
little dot of a woman.

Madam Martell’s heart thumped with excitement. She was astute enough to know her shop did have some potential left but not for her to run it. Without living premises it could also prove
difficult to sell but she knew of the Noyens. She was not interested as to why a member of that well-off family should want a small lock-up shop but she was keen enough to scent the prospect of
good money. Well-off people often did things which made little sense to lesser mortals. The more cash she received from the sale then the more comfortable she could make the retirement cottage she
had spotted on the outskirts of St Sampson. She licked her lips but stood quietly as Mary walked around, testing the floorboards for soundness, eyeing the skirting boards, studying the ceiling then
opening the back door to examine a large, dusty storeroom.

She took her time. The property was dirty but appeared to be sound though a private survey would have to be arranged. There were two double doors at the rear of the storeroom, ideal for
offloading. Mary stepped outside and saw they gave way to a winding but short grass and dirt lane which led to the main road. There were a few tired weeds and bushes against the shop wall which all
added to its run-down condition. It was easy for her to visualise the little old woman and an old husband struggling to keep going but unable to maintain a decent standard.

She was delighted with the upstairs with its one large room extending the length of the downstairs. She stood eyeing it, planning carefully. A plasterboard wall could be erected two-thirds of
the way along and electricity and drainage could be brought up from below. This could make a small washroom with a geyser, a connection from which could come into the main part of the room for
simple cooking. There were windows back and front. Those at the rear overlooked the dirt lane while the front ones gave a good view of the busy junction of roads nearby. She stood a moment, placing
imaginary carpets and furniture into positions and saw how it could be transformed into a very comfortable little sitting room with a wall bed on the left-hand wall. Her heart thumped with
eagerness. It was the perfect place for her; she must have it but as she went back down the uncarpeted, dirty stairs, she schooled her face into a poker expression.

‘It’s been very neglected,’ she started quietly.

Bright eyes looked at her carefully. ‘But it’s sound and there’s only surface dirt.’

Mary thought how like a cheeky sparrow the little woman was with her head tilted slightly to one side calculatingly, her little eyes shining and alert.

‘What is your price for it all, lock stock and barrel?’ Mary asked waving with her right hand.

The sparrow did not hesitate. ‘Two hundred plus the stock at valuation.’

Mary’s lips tightened with annoyance. The stock should be thrown in for that price and she wondered how much she dared to haggle.

‘Two hundred plus half the stock at valuation?’ she countered smoothly.