Sea Gem (38 page)

She unlocked the door, pushed it open as a step came from behind her. She turned and her face brightened a second.

‘Victor!’ she cried, then noted his grim jaw. ‘Inside and tell me!’

He slammed the door and locked it. ‘I can’t stay more than a few moments and I took a wild chance you would be here. All hell has broken loose on Alderney. Judge French held a vote
and every man, woman and child has decided to go to Britain except a couple of men who are either brave or stupid.’

Mary gasped. ‘But how can they get everyone off in time? Alderney is too near to occupied France.’

Victor shook his head. ‘That’s the military’s problem. It’s crazy over there. I’ve had a devil’s own job to get back. Animals are being let loose wherever
possible and the butcher is killing people’s pet cats and dogs. People can only take two suitcases with them and can’t you imagine what it’s like? Your home and life reduced to
two suitcases in a few, short hours. What to take; what to leave?’

Mary sank down on the shop counter. ‘It must be pandemonium.’ She had a flashing vision of moving the sick, the old and babies. ‘What is happening on Sark, do you
know?’

Victor grimaced, though his eyes flashed with respect. ‘Dame Sybil refuses to budge one inch. She and her American husband are staying, come hell or high water.’

Mary thought about that for a moment. ‘Do you know something?’ she said very slowly. ‘I think the Germans who do go over to Sark had better watch their manners. What about
Jersey?’

‘They’ve just about cleared the island of children and all the non-combatants who wish to leave. I’ve heard that about one-fifth of the Jersey population have left all they
possess to sail to Britain. They calculate it will be about half of Guernsey,’ he said, then leaned on the counter next to her, his expression bleak.

‘Your family?’

‘They are embarking from Alderney right now—I hope. I said I had to come here to sort out last minute business.’ He fell quiet as he relived the violent scene Nicole had thrown
in the back garden of her parents’ home.

‘It’s that woman!’ she had screeched turning from the quiet, placid girl he had married to a harridan. ‘You’re running back to Guernsey to see her!’ she
accused. ‘You’ve always run after her even though she shot you, more fool you! You’ll get nowhere with stuck up, high and mighty Madam Noyen! That’s it, isn’t it? You
are going to see
her
!’

Nicole’s words had initially left him thunderstruck, then his own temper had flared. Perhaps it was realisation he had lived with her for years and never realised how much she knew and how
it was eating away at her.

‘Yes, I am!’ he hurled back at her. ‘At least, I’m going to say my farewell to a woman who doesn’t go into screaming hysterics!’

He had stormed off, quite unable to say another word without lifting a hand to her. In a flash, he knew they had both been living a lie from the start. Neither of them would find it possible to
forget, let alone forgive, and deep down, Victor knew he did not want to. For the first time in many a long year, he felt a great weight lift from his back. He might still be tied to Nicole in law
but he was finally free of her.

‘What has happened?’ Mary asked him quietly, sensing something had.

He shrugged, pulled a face, then told her. Mary caught her breath as she listened.

‘So Tante was right yet again!’

Victor nodded, then seized her arms at the shoulders. ‘I have to go or I’ll be stuck here and that won’t do at all,’ he said grimly. ‘I don’t know what will
happen to me in the future but I want you to know this. I love you, my sweet Catherine. Hold that in your heart during the bad times that are coming, promise?’

Mary nodded. ‘I promise and I love you too, Victor le Page!’

Then he was gone, leaving the shop like a rocket, running down the street and Mary heard his footsteps echoing away into silence. Her heart slumped and she knew she would have to weep to relieve
her tension. She would cry for Victor. For Margaret. For her island people and, most of all, for herself.

When she had no more tears left she washed her face and knew she would have to go home. She must see what William had been up to. He had been conspicuously absent for the past two days and it
was time she tracked him down. She locked up her shop but not without throwing a glance upstairs. Soon, very soon, she must start to develop the habit of working late in the evenings. She thought
about her lovely car. That would either be commandeered by the occupiers or there would be no petrol. Thank God she had kept her rattling old cycle and, she remembered with a sudden flash of
inspiration, surely she had bought two new tyres before she purchased her car? She thought they must be in the loft and, if the rubber had not perished, she had a shrewd idea that cycle tyres would
soon be worth their weight in gold.

William grinned to himself as he straightened his tie and eyed his appearance. He might only be seventeen but William knew perfectly well he was a man physically. He was six
feet tall, weighed twelve stone and could handle himself in a fight as he had proved on the continent. He was no longer a schoolboy. From today he was a man. After all, he told himself with a leer,
how many others of his age group had travelled as he had—thanks to his mother—had his language abilities and had—killed? His chest swelled with pride.
He
was someone.

Then he gave a nervous gulp. What would his mother say when he went down not dressed in school clothes but in a man’s? It occurred to him there could be no school today anyhow; not with
the islanders in their state of unbridled panic. He took a deep breath. He was
not
afraid of his mother he told himself sternly. She was merely a woman and it was man who ruled. He was
also her sole heir with an absolute right to know what went on, how and when.

He turned and marched purposefully down the carpeted stairs but his steps became slower as he approached the open kitchen door. He heard movement and wondered if it was just his mother or
whether Amelia was there. He peeped into the door and saw his mother alone.

‘Morning,’ he grunted as he stepped into the room and walked over to where a place was laid for him at the table.

Mary threw him one startled look, weighed up his mood in a flash and turned back to the boiling kettle to make fresh tea and hide her anger. She knew how she must act. Cool and unconcerned,
William could not stand that; it was the perfect weapon against him but, she marvelled to herself, dressed in men’s clothes, he was a huge man. He was as tall as Victor and she guessed he
must weight half a stone more and none of it fat either.

‘Your meal is there, I’m going out,’ she said brusquely.

William took the plunge. ‘I’m not going to school any more. I know all I need to know.’ He waited, holding his breath.

‘Suit yourself,’ Mary said equally short.

‘I’m going to work for the Germans when they come.’

‘Bully for you!’

Mary walked out and made a point of shutting the door quietly, then she raced up to the sewing room. With gritted teeth she reached under the machine to where the diamonds had once nestled. Her
fingers carefully stripped away the retaining tape and the derringer slid neatly into her hand. She eyed it and locked the door while her hand felt for the ammunition that Sam had obtained all
those years ago. Taking a drawcloth from another hiding place, she carefully cleaned the barrel. She added two drops of sewing-machine oil to the mechanism and finally loaded it. For a few seconds
she hefted it thoughtfully in her hand before slipping it into her slacks’ pocket. From now on she would never be without it. She replaced the spare ammunition and only then unlocked the
door.

Slowly, she went back downstairs and was surprised to see William still at the table, a petulant look to his face. Her eyebrows rose but she said nothing as she poured herself a cup of tea, sat
down opposite William and looked evenly at him.

William seethed. He had expected his mother to argue hotly with him and her casual dismissal was infuriating. It was always like this. Was it because she did not take him seriously? He looked
over at her and knew she was totally unimpressed with his height, weight and strength or ability. Was it even possible that there was a wicked gleam in her eyes? He was uncertain. What he did know
was that not once since that day on Alderney had his mother mentioned Edwin or levelled a single accusation at him and this rankled.

‘This is my home and it belongs to me,’ Mary started coolly. ‘I make the rules and when you don’t like them, you go,’ she told him out of the blue.

William blinked. Now what had got into her? His mouth opened a little to show Mary she had him flat footed.

‘You can do what you like, go where you like and I don’t care a hoot,’ she continued, ‘but in this house you will obey me. Germans or no Germans!’ She paused,
eyeing him. ‘We both know what we think of each other. You do not like me and it is reciprocated in full.’

There, that was something out in the open at last, Mary told herself. She waited with interest to see what he had to say. A surprisingly cynical look crossed his face and he held her eyes
boldly.

‘We know why, don’t we?’ William shot back in a low voice, determined to make her bring up Edwin’s name at last.

Mary smiled scornfully though it made her face muscles ache. She longed to lash out and wipe the leer from his face.

‘Do we?’ she asked acidly, seeing through his game. William might be far more academically clever than her but Mary was worldly wise and incredibly sharp. ‘You tell me!’
she challenged, knocking the ball right back into his court with a hard volley. ‘Come on, son of mine, or are you all mouth too?’ she asked with sweet acidity.

William’s nostrils pinched tight. He itched to slam his fist into her face but dared not. It flashed through his mind that he must never underestimate her. He also realised he could never
match her in a game of words like this.

‘You never had time for me,’ he scowled sulkily.

Mary knew this was true. ‘That was not for lack of trying. You were never the most lovable of children and the older you became the more you retreated into yourself and away from
people—except when you were bullying them. The hands of love and friendship were often offered to you but you scorned them, so you only have yourself to blame. People only give back what they
receive. All you want to do is take to suit yourself. And, William, there is something you should know,’ Mary told him, dropping her voice, low and cutting. ‘My Will was made out quite
a while ago. It’s lodged in a very safe place so if anything happens to me, don’t think you would walk into everything, lock, stock and barrel. There is something else you’d
better digest too, my son. The Germans are great believers in law and order. If I die while they are here, my Will would be proved meticulously—by them. Don’t get any fancy ideas of
being my sole heir either. I happen to have a daughter too. There is provision made for a Trust of Supervision over my stipulated wishes. Never count chickens before they leave their shells, you
will only get egg on your face,’ she told him, mixing metaphors to make her point. ‘I trust I have made myself
very
clear?’

William said nothing. He had never envisaged such an icy tirade and he was stung and hurt.

‘There is one more point you might like to think about,’ Mary added carefully. ‘Don’t bank too much on the Germans. They are not crass idiots. They will see through
anyone foolish enough to fawn on them and they will use such people for their own ends. In their eyes, you are British and the enemy. If you think the great master race is preparing to lay down the
red carpet for you, my son, you are in for an almighty shock and serve you right too!’ she finished, then left him.

She had to get outside because her anger was bubbling like a hot cauldron. The self-control she had exercised had sapped her strength and her lips were dry while her heart fluttered like a
trapped butterfly. She took a few deep breaths, then decided to go and see Raymond and Gwen and make plans for growing food. She had a strong suspicion that one day food would be in short supply
and they must all plan ahead. With the Ozanne children gone to Britain, as well as the Falla offspring, they must all buckle down and help with the mundane chores. With no holiday cottages to let,
Mary’s thoughts turned to the glasshouses and the shops which were going to be their only source of income until it was all over. Thank God she had Raymond’s wonderful green fingers in
the glasshouses because Mary knew that, although she could plan and organise, she was nowhere near Raymond’s equal when it came to crops.

She found Raymond tending to the tomatoes and, paying close attention to him for once, realised he had not changed a great deal since the day Duret had died. Indeed she fancied he was even more
ginger-coloured than ever; certainly his face was a mass of tiny freckles. There was little fat on him, which she guessed was because he worked physically. Certainly Gwen had once mentioned that
Raymond ate like the proverbial horse.

Mary examined the glasshouses thoroughly. While she was so busy with the holiday lets, Raymond had been allowed free rein but now, with the changes which were due to come, her eyes hunted around
carefully. ‘That piece of land between the houses, Raymond, could such be cultivated for root crops?’ she asked.

He eyed where she pointed and nodded slowly. The ground was impacted from years of being trodden on but the earth would be virgin and he could see where her thoughts lay.

‘Labour is going to be scarce, Madam,’ he pointed out. ‘That land will take some hard work.’

Mary took a deep breath. ‘Then I’ll have to help and Raoul too,’ she told him and wondered why Raymond’s eyes had changed direction. How strange; was it a trick of the
sunlight or had she simply imagined Raymond did not want her and Raoul? Her resolve stiffened.

‘William will help also,’ she stated firmly.

Raymond could not argue. She was the boss but he liked to feel he was in sole charge of the glasshouses. Wouldn’t life acquire problems with the boss breathing down his neck and, anyhow,
he didn’t care for his wife’s brother. Raoul was too deep and silent for his tastes. William was another matter. Raymond liked the son and heir and knew he could get on with him.