Sea Gem (42 page)

‘Victor,’ Mary began a little hesitantly, ‘please don’t think I’m complaining or backing away but all this writing—’ She pointed at where her notes were
hidden. ‘It seems so useless to me. The Germans are entrenched here and I cannot see any chance of them leaving for a long time. Neither do I see any opportunity of Britain invading to
release us for many reasons, so aren’t I wasting my efforts?’ she asked bluntly.

‘No!’ he replied with quick firmness. ‘Every tiny scrap of information about an enemy is always of vital importance. You might never see the end result but, take it from me,
there is one. The men the Germans have poured onto these Channel Islands are men tied down—not fighting elsewhere. They are men wasted. It’s reached my ears that Hitler’s grand
Master Plan’—Victor said the latter words with a sneer—‘is to turn the islands into land battleships. How crazy! Who does he think is going to sail up and fight?’

‘I see!’ Mary murmured thoughtfully. ‘Well, I feel a bit better about it all now!’ she admitted with a smile.

‘Have you heard anything not in these notes?’

Mary considered, then nodded. ‘The Germans are going to bring a lot of horses here as well as to the other islands. I heard that this morning because they’ve been round the farms
requisitioning hay and oats.’

‘Interesting,’ he drawled, narrowing his eyes. ‘They could be for the officers to ride but who knows the workings of the Germanic mind. Anything else?’

‘Yes!’ Mary said briskly. ‘At home this morning I noticed two of the officers talking briskly together and later I asked William what it was all about. He was very pleased
because it seems the Germans are bringing over surveyors and engineers. I do know that all around the coast there are huge dumps of concrete-making materials and there’s talk of the Germans
getting a railway going at some time.’

‘So they intend to build fortifications. Excellent! While they are spending money on materials for that, they can’t use them elsewhere. You see, look at the value of your work. Not
just in these notes but in what you’ve just told me. Don’t belittle what you do, you are only one person observing in one place but take all of you as a whole, it’s as if there
was a radio broadcast of Hitler’s intentions!’ Then he became grave: ‘But be very, very careful, my love. Don’t fall into a pattern with your observation trips and always
try to have an excuse for being where you are, should you ever be stopped and questioned. Do
not
underestimate the enemy!’

‘I won’t,’ Mary replied grimly. There was not a chance of that when she had the daily reminder of their presence in her home. ‘When will you come again?’

‘I don’t know and if I did, I’d not tell you. It might be weeks or even months but carry on with the good work.’

Mary had deduced she was not the only operative and she presumed he was going on to see someone else or perhaps even to another island.

‘You are beautifully placed to keep us informed. Never forget that,’ he emphasised again. ‘If other sources, shall I say, dried up—!’

She nodded soberly. ‘Well I have four officers with me but I just wish I spoke better German. I only have a few words. William, of course, is in his element with it all, idolising the
master race,’ she said scornfully. ‘Raoul is reliable and completely trustworthy. I think he has guessed something. Certainly he knows this flat is not what it seems but Tante said he
was all right. I’m not so certain about Raymond. He and William work together in the glasshouses and I think Raymond is more keen on making money than on anything else. Raymond is, how shall
I put it—Raymond is very concerned about Raymond!’ she told him acidly.

He nodded seriously. ‘There’ll be informers and collaborators here as well as many who favour the Germans for one reason or the other. I repeat my warning because if anything
happened to you, heart of my hearts—’ His voice stopped; clipped short as he took her in his arms again.

Mary saw his eyes were violet, soft and glowing in the dim light. She laid her head on his chest. Oh! How many times had she wanted to be able to do this in the past half year. He smelt so
strong with the slightest tang of tobacco and dried sweat.

He ran his hands down to her breasts and fondled them, murmuring more to himself than her.

‘I wish I had more time,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t think I’d be shot this time!’ he sighed. ‘What a waste this all is.’

‘You need a shave,’ she whispered, feeling his stubble.

‘I’d like to grow a beard but regulations won’t allow!’

‘I should hope not!’ she protested. ‘A beard indeed. You’d look just like a pirate!’

‘But a lovely one, you must admit,’ he told her as he thrust his head between her breasts then, reluctantly, straightened to look at his watch.

Mary felt gorgeously light-headed. She knew her nipples were erect and her thighs were nearly jelly.

‘I have to make tracks,’ he sighed heavily. ‘And surely it’s time you were on the way home? What about the curfew and patrols?’

Mary chuckled. ‘The Germans are so methodical and regular that I can set my watch to the patrol’s arrival!’

She looked at the clock. ‘Another fifteen minutes before the local patrol comes. Time for you to slip away and me to cycle home. It doesn’t take me long normally, though I might have
to walk part of the way in this fog.’

Very slowly, still holding hands, they went down to the darkened shop, moving quietly towards the back entrance.

‘You carry your pistol, I hope?’ he hissed.

Mary nodded as she quietly slid the bolts, opened the door casually and peered out, straining her ears.

‘All clear,’ she whispered.

Victor turned for one last kiss. ‘If ever you have to use that pistol, get rid of it straightaway. Don’t keep in on your person or anywhere at home or the shop.’

Mary nodded, suddenly terribly anxious for him, biting her lip but trying to show a brave face.

His right hand touched her left cheek. ‘My sweet Catherine.’ Then he was gone. She craned her neck and watched him pad down the rough track, peer up the road in both directions and
vanish, melting into the night as quietly as a cat.

Slowly Mary locked the back door and went back to the flat to check nothing was out of place. Her heart was thumping and she realised she strained to hear shots but the night was dark. For a few
seconds she was reluctant to go. She could still feel his presence and she wanted to stay treasuring it but the time was moving on. With a heavy heart, she fetched her cycle from the back, opened
the front door and slipped out, locking up quietly with the well oiled locks.

The fog had thinned, so switching on the hooded lights to comply with the German blackout regulations she started pedalling. The fog lingered in patches and darted fingers at her. The night was
silent and ghostly, almost macabre but she pedalled steadily, Margaret’s letter tucked between her breasts.

When only a few hundred yards from her home she halted silently to listen. There was no sound anywhere. It was as if she was the only person left alive on earth and a shudder ran through her.
She looked at her watch again. She was late so she unfastened the valve cap and let the air out of her front tyre before retightening the valve head.

With the feeble headlight she started to walk, not briskly but as if very weary. She crunched up the drive to the house and saw a figure loom at her then another. It was a worried Raoul with
William at his heels.

‘I was getting worried,’ Raoul told her in a gross understatement. He had been nearly out of his mind, made worse by William hovering around.

Mary panted with feigned exhaustion. ‘It’s been a long walk with a flat tyre,’ she complained bitterly thrusting the cycle into Raoul’s hands. ‘Can you see to it
for me?’

Raoul caught a look in her eyes and nodded quickly. His instinct warned him the flat was deliberate. He would ‘mend’ the tyre that very night before the Germans could show any
interest in it.

‘Your son was getting worried like me,’ he told her trying to appear casual.

‘And so were we, Frau!’ one of the German officers said. ‘It’s a raw night!’

Mary wondered if there was a question in the words and decided to attack at once.

‘That’s true,’ she agreed coolly. ‘That’s why only a fool or someone with a flat tyre would be out in it!’

She turned to William. There was something bubbling inside him. She went to tighten her lips but restrained herself. She must act naturally.

‘You look pleased with yourself, son?’ she prodded.

‘I’ve been engaged to do translation work,’ William boasted eagerly. It was rare for him to display emotion but he was highly thrilled at having been approached and the pay was
generous too.

Mary pursed her lips thoughtfully, aware all four Germans were now interested spectators.

‘Have you?’ she replied casually. ‘Well, that’s all right just as long as you do not neglect your glasshouse work. Food production is of vital importance, isn’t
it?’ she asked turning to the officers.

They broke into a chorus of agreements which William could not miss as his mother’s barb also registered. She would not fuss just as long as he did not rock her particular boat.

‘I’m tired. I want a hot drink, my supper and then I’m going to bed,’ she announced and walked up the stairs in her occupied home. At least, nothing had been damaged. The
officers were meticulously careful with faultless manners. Indeed, in other circumstances, it would have been pleasant having them as guests.

She itched for the privacy of her room to read the precious letter. Once in it, she locked the door carefully and rammed two bolts home, which Raoul had installed for her. First she skimmed
through the lines which were so dreadfully short then she went back to luxuriate in very word.

She read the letter three times then hugged it to her breasts, feeling her heart swell with love while tears hovered. Where could she hide it? Every place on which her eyes landed had to be
rejected because any Germans who searched would be thorough. Finally, in desperation, she slipped it right at the bottom of the rubber bag where she kept her very personal toilet articles. Let them
look there and get embarrassed.

Mary slid between the sheets that night with heart soaring then plummeting in turns as she thought about Margaret’s letter. Then her mind switched to Victor who was somewhere out in the
night defying the Germans. When she did fall asleep she had a rare dream that changed into a violent nightmare, so realistic it awoke her, sweating and trembling with horrified fear.

To start with, the dream was shapeless, as something nebulous ghosted in and out of her mind until a dark form showed. This began to expand and approach ever nearer until it reached a size of
grotesque proportion. It hammered at her subconscious mind as something unspeakably deadly which concerned only her and which was of the most vital importance. She opened her mouth in her sleep and
screaming soundlessly, thrusting out her hands against the strangling evil but its advance was inexorable. From the centre of its black shape emerged two equally spaced red holes that threatened to
engulf her and she felt the most appalling peril. Suddenly there were two bangs and she woke with a jerk, covered in sweat, her heart hammering a tattoo.

One hand shot to her mouth as she gazed around, wild eyed with fright, but she was alone. The door was firmly bolted. Only one inch of window was open and, without a drainpipe, there was no way
anyone could climb to the third floor to molest her. Mary slumped back on the pillows but her heart continued its erratic thunder, only very slowly quietening down. The evil had been so vividly
intense, so realistic that she was more frightened that at any time before in her life.

What did it mean? From where would this danger come? She was rarely conscious of dreams, her sleep was usually unbroken, but this had been so genuine, such a nightmare that she rose, opened the
window and sat on a chair looking out at the night. She forced herself to go back over every ghastly image because if dreams were sent to warn, then dear God, she must recognise the peril.

She saw the dawn touch the sky with fingers of gold and felt washed out, fit for nothing. With luck there might be a little tepid water and a bath would wash away the horror. Certainly she did
not wish to face sharp-eyed William looking anything other than normal.

* * *

Life fell into a dull period in which they all lived quiet lives geared to the occupiers. William thrived, indeed blossomed, because the Germans had found his linguistic skills
excellent. Very gradually he did less and less work at the glasshouses and Mary and Raoul did more and more under Raymond’s supervision.

Mary thought a lot about Margaret and her heart ached for her girl because she too must be fretting about Michael. She worried about Victor, wondering where he was and what he was doing. When
the bad days came she spent hours working with the plants, glad of the mind-numbing labour. She also had a good reason to visit the shop at least twice a week for her accounts needed regular
attention. At other times she talked a lot with Amelia, concerned about food.