Sea Gem (32 page)

With that he was content. She never broke her word. Then he shivered. ‘By God, it’s getting chilly.’

It was true. The wind had freshened, blowing hard and there was no protection from it. He pulled her up and, arm in arm, they strolled to her car.

‘Mine’s over there,’ he nodded and Mary wondered why she had not spotted this before. She castigated herself. She simply must do better and be more observant, otherwise James
would be displeased again and she would be failing his trust.

He took a quick look around but they were alone so he took her in his arms for a kiss, not hurrying about it and Mary wondered whether he was storing up something. It was true they could go
months before they bumped into each other again because she still would not have him at her home and neither would she go down to Tante’s cottage when he was due to visit his
grandmère. Tante and Victor made far too powerful a combination.

She decided it was time to withdraw from him. ‘It’s time I was going,’ she whispered, ‘and this is pretty public here. If anyone came down and saw us, I’d never be
able to look Nicole in the face again.’

‘Go on then,’ he said with a sigh; suddenly he didn’t really care who saw them, including Nicole.

The whole family agreed it turned into a fantastic summer, Margaret particularly, because they had so many days out with their mother. She knew it would be a time to remember.
Mary took them on innumerable trips around the island discovering and exploring tiny bays and coves. There were long walks on the south cliffs and more strolls inland when Mary parked the car, took
a picnic basket, and entertained the children as she trained her eyes.

It did not stop there either because they visited Herm and Sark as well as Jersey and France. The only island still unexplored was Alderney and the promise of a trip there was about to be
fulfilled and Michael would be with them. Margaret was excited.

After Victor’s words, Mary surreptitiously watched Margaret and Michael. He was a tall, well spoken boy who gave promise of turning into the same powerful man as his father. It was obvious
to Mary that Mike thought the world of Margaret who seemed to reciprocate this feeling though it was, as yet, something so charmingly innocent that it touched Mary’s heart. Mike was fun to be
with. He was merry, open faced with an equable temperament which could certainly keep Margaret in check. If the two of them continued to develop like this into their late teens, they could make a
splendid match. Mary had been forced to stifle a deep mirth upon one of Margaret’s outbursts. Mike simply gave her a peculiar look, shook his head almost with pity, collected his cycle and
rode away. Margaret had been stunned at this performance, unable to take it in. Since that day, she became a lot more circumspect in her behaviour so Mary acknowledged Mike was a splendid influence
on her daughter. Victor was correct; Mike was remarkably mature for his age.

Jenny and Edwin made a nice twosome though Jenny was a proper cry-baby and not Mary’s kind of child at all. Sometimes Mary suspected that Jenny cried before anything happened and she was
amazed at this. How could twins be so different? Still, she made a good playmate for Edwin.

Then there was—William! William the loner who Mary suspected was an inveterate bully. She had seen his actions twice but before she could intervene Margaret had done what was necessary for
which Mary was thankful. It was not that she dodged the issue of disciplining a child whom she disliked, it was just that she was always conscious of her personal feelings.

As they sat in the launch, Mary’s mind twisted and turned on many matters. It was a long sea crossing to Alderney because Aurigny, called by its correct name, was the farthest island from
Guernsey and very near to the French coast. She debated whether it was necessary to come to the island, thinking of the Oselton family, but Margaret and Michael had both pleaded for a day exploring
somewhere new.

She studied the children though the pack was incomplete today. Both Jenny and little James had stayed at home because Nicole, fearing the trip might be rather too far for them, had objected.

She saw that Margaret and Michael sat close, heads almost touching as they discussed something of great interest. William was by himself looking out to sea while Edwin sat at her side doing
nothing in particular. Mary itched to ruffle his hair affectionately but restrained herself with William so near.

Tante was initially astonished with her behaviour that summer and she was thankful for the children’s company. As James had so wisely pointed out, they gave her a perfect excuse for
gadding about.

‘I’ve never spent a whole summer with the children, Tante,’ Mary pointed out, ‘so for once I’m going to let my hair down and have a bit of fun with them. I’m
sure Raoul can cope with the properties and Raymond seems capable working alone.’

Tante considered this novel idea, then slowly nodded her head. It made sense because Margaret was already blossoming into a young lady and Mary had rarely spent time with her daughter. She was
curious about Michael but pronounced herself satisfied when she had met him. Her grandson had bred true; the only aggravating point was Michael’s surname had to be le Page and not Noyen but
there was nothing she could do about that.

Tante often felt sorry for Edwin. He lacked confidence and Jenny’s appearance was a godsend though Tante considered her a weakling. Michael’s twin was an Oselton, not a Noyen. It
didn’t matter though because she made up for this by being a companion for Edwin.

William needed no one. Let a few more years pass and Tante sensed William might move out to live his own secretive life, which would be best for all concerned. Whenever she met this grandchild
he worried her. There was nothing of Duret in him and not much of Christine either, she decided. William was an individual not to be trusted. It was eerie how no one could read his mind. She never
mentioned these feelings though because Mary was far too busy racing here and there, checking, supervising, suggesting improvements as well as paying attention to all their accounts. The way Mary
rushed about might have been considered abnormal by many but the wise old lady guessed the real reason; she preferred the night sleep of exhaustion to that of lying awake in a lonely bed. Mary was
a healthy girl and obviously still sexually capable, yet her true love was denied.

* * *

James never once asked Mary how she progressed but she guessed he had a shrewd idea where she went. It was impossible for someone like her, accompanied with an exuberant gaggle
of children, to avoid notice.

For herself, she was greatly pleased with her efforts. James’ comments proved true. It was possible to train the senses and gradually her mind developed as her memory expanded. Sometimes
she thought she had only been using a section of her brain in the past. Now a bird could not fly over the garden without her noting the breed, where it had gone, whether alone and for what
purpose.

At the same time, she had thrown herself into a detailed study of the general political situation. It had taken a little while to sort out the wheat from the chaff but the more she read or heard
on the wireless the more apprehensive she became. She could look at her children and worry what might happen in the next few years. She discussed this with no one, hugging her apprehension to
herself like a black cloak.

They disembarked and, after Mary had checked the time of the return ferry, she hired a horse and trap for their use. The children all piled around and behind her as she drove off gently. She was
half aware of the chatter from Margaret and Michael, conscious of Edwin and William’s silence while, at the same time, her eyes travelled around as she observed and assimilated anything which
could be grist to her particular mill.

The island’s capital, St Annes, seemed ludicrously tiny, hardly more than a village. While preparing for this outing she had done her homework and was secretly amused to find out that the
people of Alderney held those from Guernsey in as low an opinion as Guernsey islanders regarded their fellows in Jersey.

It was a small island, barely three and a half miles by one and a half. As yet it had no telephone system; electric lighting was a little known luxury and all water still came from wells. It
seemed primitive yet the people looked healthy and rugged.

‘Where are we going now?’ Margaret asked, breaking into her thoughts.

‘We’ll go down the High Street and along Longis Road to the Bay. I studied the map yesterday and we’ll find ourselves a nice beach for a picnic. Later we’ll drive around
the island.’

Margaret was satisfied and beamed at Michael, then became aware of William’s dark eyes fixed on her. She turned her head and poked her tongue at him. He continued to stare stonily at her
and Margaret tossed her head. She wished they did not have to trail William along with them all the time. She peeped at Edwin and it crossed her mind she must keep an eye on him as Jenny
wasn’t with them. The trouble with Edwin was that he did not complain. He suffered in silence, which Margaret considered dreadful. It was true she had attacked William before and driven him
away but she sometimes wondered uneasily what went on between the two of them when she was not around. Edwin would never tell which was stupid as well as exasperating. She grinned at Mike. What fun
he was, though she knew she had to treat him with respect.

‘We’ll go and explore, shall we?’ she whispered to him.

‘What about Edwin?’ Mike rejoined, having a good idea of where William stood in the family hierarchy, a boy whom he disliked intently.

‘He’ll probably stay with mother,’ Margaret told him hopefully.

Mary studied the sky. It was almost hot, with the sky a delicate duck egg blue and only a light breeze when she drove down to the promising beach.

‘Here we are!’ she cried. ‘This will do. Now, you boys, unload the basket and take care. Don’t spill the lemonade.’

They ate their lunch with the two older children chattering away briskly, Edwin munching while eyeing the beach and William chewing stolidly, saying nothing and missing nothing either. As Mary
repacked the remains and made sure the beach was tidy, she sighed with satisfaction. The sun beamed down and she felt warm in her thin cotton slacks and blouse. She almost wished she had brought a
bathing costume.

‘Can we go and explore?’ Margaret asked, fidgeting for permission.

Mary nodded. ‘All right but don’t wander too far,’ she warned. Instantly they were off, racing like young gazelles. Mary grinned at their youth and energy.

‘And what are you two going to do?’ she asked, turning to Edwin and William.

‘Look for shells,’ Edwin replied promptly. He had become an avid collector over the past year, forever scouring the beaches for shells of different colours, shapes and sizes, which
he would then try and identify from a book Mary had bought him. It was a harmless, gentle hobby for a quiet little boy and Mary encouraged her youngest child. He asked for so little; was so quiet
and well behaved, that it gave her great pleasure to fulfil his few wishes.

‘And you, William?’ she said, turning to the tall, stocky boy on her other side. Dear heavens, she thought, he gets bigger every week. He would soon reach her own height and he was
still so young. She studied his face, becoming aware how strongly formed were his features but how cold they were too. As always, William’s face was set in its usual mask which gave no
indication of his thoughts.

‘I’ll look for some too,’ he told her.

Mary’s eyebrows shot up. She wondered if this was to copy Edwin or to rival him; most likely the latter, she mused.

‘All right, but don’t wander far away either,’ she warned them sternly. ‘I’ll be here sunbathing.’

Once the children had departed, Mary felt her eyes become heavy. I’ll just close my eyes against the sun, she told herself, lying down on a soft portion of sand. She had no intention of
sleeping with four children off exploring but the food and the sun, the long sea crossing plus the period of hard work, all combined and gradually she drifted into a light doze.

William followed Edwin morosely, now and again throwing a glance at the sea. It was amazing how quickly they wandered away from their picnic area. He watched Edwin wading in the shallow water,
bending to peer down at shells, selecting and picking avidly.

William started to look through the gentle waves. It was true there were some shells he had not seen before and, in a desultory manner, he began to copy his brother. Deep down, William thought
collecting shells was kid’s stuff; something that only Edwin would do but he could not help competing against his brother. Why he felt the need to do this he did not know but to beat his
siblings at anything gave him tremendous satisfaction. A feeling he kept hidden and buried deep in his heart. Nothing pleased him more than to outdo Margaret academically, which happened quite
often despite the years between them. William knew he was the cleverest of the children but this again was something he kept a devious secret. Some latent instinct told him that brains coupled with
an enigmatic exterior puzzled people and made them wary of him. It was a tactic he used to good effect at school to make him the envy of his peers.

‘Another!’ Edwin shouted with glee and bounded forward into water which surged over his knees.

William’s eyes narrowed as Edwin held his treasure on the palm of one hand. It was a periwinkle, bright yellow with wetness which, William knew, would turn to pale lemon when dry. His eyes
scanned the water where Edwin stood, near to some tiny, half submerged rocks. ‘There’s another!’

Edwin turned as William waded in to pick up a brilliant, shining orange shell that really was a beauty. He was aware that Edwin was regarding him wistfully but although he did not particularly
want the shell, he had no intention of handing it over.

Edwin looked around ruefully. If only he could find one of that colour. Both boys spotted the shell at the identical moment. It was black and white striped, glistening under the water, inviting
itself to be collected.