Survivor (35 page)

The walk from Sidmouth to Beer had been
further than she realized. Once there, they’d eaten fish and chips sitting on
a bench looking out to sea. Fish and chips had never tasted so good. But they had
elected to catch the bus back – it was just too far to walk.

While they were sitting on a wall,
waiting for the bus,
Edwin asked her if
she ever wished she hadn’t come to England.

She considered that for a moment.
‘Now and again – mostly when I feel very alone, and I think of everyone
I’ve lost – but I think coming to England has done me a power of good.
I’m not as selfish as I used to be, and I’m more tolerant and
understanding. At least, I think so. Only someone who knew me before could confirm
it.’

‘Is there anything more
you’d like to do before you go home?’

‘Yes, I’d like to do
something worthwhile.’

‘Such as?’ He lifted one
eyebrow quizzically.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know
really. Something that I can look back at with pride, when I’m an old
lady.’

He didn’t laugh at her, but he
didn’t make any suggestions either, so she was rather surprised that Edwin
brought the subject up again, once they were settled on the bus.

‘You could go in for
nursing,’ he began. ‘You’d be good at that.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I
wouldn’t, I’d be useless. I retch if I see anyone being sick, and I feel
faint at the sight of blood.’

‘I don’t believe that. Your
mother drove an ambulance in the last war.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Peter mentioned it once. He was
actually telling me about Noah, about him being a war correspondent and stuff, and
that brought him on to the subject of your father. Peter said Noah kind of
hero-worshipped him. Getting the Croix de Guerre and all. And then he said your
mother had been out there in France too. So it’s brave stock you come
from.’

Mariette giggled. ‘I’m
certainly not brave enough to deal with war wounds,’ she said. ‘Sticking
a plaster on a grazed
knee is as far as
I want to go. It’s funny you should say that about Noah kind of
hero-worshipping my father, though. I sensed that too. In fact, I suspect there is a
great story behind how the two men met, and I’m fairly certain my mother and
Lisette were right in the middle of it. Maybe, if I could do one really good thing
to make my folks proud of me, then they’ll tell me about it.’

‘If you were my daughter,
I’d be as proud as Punch at how strong and brave you’ve been,’
Edwin said.

‘All I’ve done is deal with
the stuff that happened to me. I don’t call that brave, it’s just
survival.’

‘That’s not how I see
it,’ he said, and he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to
him. ‘A really brave thing to do would be to let me kiss you on the Sidmouth
bus.’

Mariette giggled. There were no more
than six people on the bus, and as she and Edwin were sitting at the back they
couldn’t be seen anyway. ‘I’m feeling extraordinarily brave
today,’ she said and turned her face to his.

His kiss was perfect. Not too hesitant
but not too bold either. His tongue flickered between her parted lips just enough to
send a wake-up message to all her nerve endings. And the way he held her, as if she
was something precious, made her feel marvellous.

‘Umm,’ she said, when they
finally drew apart. ‘I didn’t feel scared.’

‘You might, if you knew what was
going on in my mind,’ he said, and nuzzled his cheek against hers. ‘Can
I just tell you something?’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, that night at the Café de
Paris, I was truly bowled over by you. If that bomb hadn’t dropped, I
would’ve made a complete nuisance of myself howling under your window
nightly.’

‘I
would’ve thrown a bucket of water over you,’ Mariette laughed.
‘But that is a lovely thing to say, and I was pretty much bowled over by you
too. Shame we can’t turn the clock back, and meet up for my twenty-first in a
different place.’

‘The tragedy of that night
doesn’t have to prevent us starting again, does it?’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ she
agreed. ‘And I’m certain, if Rose and Peter are looking down,
they’ll be cheering right now.’

He kissed her again then and, this time,
Mariette’s whole body seemed to melt into his.

She never wanted the kiss to end.

They were staggering like drunks when
they got off the bus, with flushed faces and lips swollen from kissing. They felt
they were floating in a kind of bubble that prevented the outside world touching
them.

‘What now?’ Edwin said.
‘I’ve got to go back to Bristol on Monday morning, you are working
during the day, and I’ve got meetings and things. I can’t even say when
I can meet you again after this weekend.’

‘We’ll go back to the pub
now, and I’m sure Sybil will take pity on us and let me have some time off
over the weekend. As for the future, we’ll just have to see how it
goes.’

He slid his arms around her and hugged
her tightly. ‘I’m glad one of us is grounded. But I suppose I’m
afraid that I’ll lose you again.’

‘Fate brought us together again,
so let’s believe it’s meant to be,’ she said.

‘Look at his face,’ Sybil
whispered to Mariette later that evening.

They were busy serving as the bar was
crowded. Edwin was sitting on a stool up at the end of the bar, staring into space.
Mariette’s stomach did a little flip because he was so
handsome. She could see his dark lashes like small fans
on his cheeks, and his plump lips that had so recently been kissing her.

‘He’s not drunk, he’s
only had two pints,’ Sybil said went on. ‘He’s daydreaming about
you.’

‘Don’t be daft,’
Mariette laughed. ‘He’s probably thinking about flying, or fast
cars.’

‘No, there’s only one thing
that makes a man sit silently at a bar like that, and that’s a woman. I
watched him earlier, the way he was looking at you, all yearning and hopeful. Trust
me, I’ve had years of practice studying men. I could write a book on my
findings.’

‘Well, it would be nice if he was
thinking about me,’ Mariette admitted. ‘I really like him. But it
won’t be easy to see him when he’s based in Bristol.’

‘It’s not easy for any
sweethearts in wartime,’ Sybil said thoughtfully. ‘I met Ted when he was
home on leave in the last one. We fell for one another right away, but then he got
gassed. He wrote from hospital in France and told me to forget him as he’d be
no use to me. As if you can forget!’

‘But you made it together,’
Mariette said.

Sybil smiled. ‘Yes, but we had
some sticky moments at first. He felt like only half a man because of his breathing,
so he couldn’t do any manual work. But love finds a way through
anything.’

‘I hope so,’ Mariette said,
looking at Edwin at the end of the bar. ‘I really hope so.’

Sybil popped her head round the
living-room door, behind the bar, where Mariette was doing some ironing on the
table. ‘There’s a chap wanting to speak to you privately. His name is
Ollenshaw. And, by the look of him, he’s from the Secret Service.’

Mariette giggled. Sybil was always
guessing what people did for a living and she liked to pick ridiculous jobs.
‘So is there a special look for the Secret Service?’

‘Yes, you must be unable to smile,
and speak in a really upper-crust, stilted way,’ Sybil said. ‘Shall I
ask if he has the secret password? Tell him to sod off, or bring him back through
here? I promise I won’t listen at the keyhole, if you choose that
option.’

‘The last option, though I
can’t imagine what he wants with me,’ Mariette replied. ‘But wheel
him through, anyway. Is he worth putting lipstick on for?’

Sybil grimaced. ‘Definitely
not!’

When Sybil brought the man in and
introduced him, Mariette had a job to keep a straight face. He was small and very
dapper in a pinstriped suit, with his bowler hat in his hand, and he was so
straight-backed that he looked as if he’d left the coat hanger in his
jacket.

‘I’ll be in the bar, should
you need me,’ Sybil said as a parting shot, making a silly face behind the
man’s back.

Mariette folded up the blanket
she’d been ironing on, and
offered
him a cup of tea. ‘No, thank you,’ he said, sitting down at the table.
‘I’ll come straight to the point, Miss Carrera,’ he said. ‘I
understand you speak fluent French. Is that correct?’

‘Well, yes,’ Mariette
replied guardedly. She noticed he had disconcertingly small dark eyes, like a
pig’s.

‘Would you be prepared to use that
ability for the war effort?’

‘You mean interpreting? Yes, of
course, as long as it would fit in with my job here.’

‘There would be more to it than
interpreting,’ he said, looking at her very intently.

She knew Sybil had only been joking
about him being with the Secret Service. But, astonishingly, it sounded very much as
if he really was. As intriguing as that might be, she didn’t like the way she
was being scrutinized, or the fact that he’d just turned up here out of the
blue.

‘Before we go any further, I would
like to know who informed you that I speak French and why that would be of any
interest to anyone?’

Ollenshaw shrugged and made an attempt
at a smile. But his lips only moved slightly, showing just a tiny glimpse of teeth.
‘My department has ears at many doors, Miss Carrera. In your case, a casual
remark made about you reached us. So we checked you out.’

‘You mean you’ve been poking
into my life without me being aware of it?’ she exclaimed indignantly.

‘In wartime we need to utilize
people with certain abilities,’ he said curtly. ‘But obviously, in the
interests of national security, we have to do thorough background checks. Our
initial interest in you was because you are bilingual, but then we discovered you
have sailing experience too.’

‘Sailing! Why would you be
interested in that?’

‘Often,
the only way to get one of our people out of France is in a small boat.’

Mariette had believed him up until that
point. But surely no government officer would just talk about getting people out of
France at the first meeting? Had she been set up by one of the pub customers?
Playing along with it seemed like the best idea.

‘When you say small, what are you
talking about? A dinghy, or a rowing boat?’ she asked.

Ollenshaw nodded.

Mariette burst into laughter.
‘Across the English Channel? You’re pulling my leg!’

‘Of course, we wouldn’t
expect anyone to sail right across the Channel in a small craft, only to another
bigger one nearby.’

Mariette looked scornfully at this
little man, who didn’t look as if he could even handle a pedal boat.
‘Someone’s put you up to this. Is it a joke?’ she asked.

‘Miss Carrera, do I look like a
man who plays pranks on people?’

He certainly didn’t. And she
couldn’t think of anyone she knew who might be capable of finding someone like
Ollenshaw to play a joke on her. ‘Then you’d better tell me something to
convince me you are on the level.’

He sighed deeply, as if he’d been
talking to a simpleton. ‘Let me explain why I am approaching you, Miss
Carrera. It is because my superiors feel you are the sort of young woman we
desperately need for special missions,’ he said. ‘You first came to our
attention some time ago, when you were working as a secretary for a Mr Greville, in
London. You were present at a dinner with a senior British Army officer, and
interpreted for another guest, a retired French Army officer. Am I right about
that?’

Mariette knew
then that this man must be what he said he was as she hadn’t told anyone down
here about meeting the French Army officer. ‘Yes, you are right about that. I
often accompanied Mr Greville to meetings with people who could give him orders for
uniforms.’

‘Well, you created a very good
impression. A note was made about you. Since then, we have been keeping an eye on
you.’

‘I don’t like the sound of
that,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s creepy.’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe, but it is a
sign of the times. However, everything reported back to us about you is good. We
know how you conducted yourself during the Blitz, the help you gave to others
despite great personal loss. We also know about your family background. Your father
won the Croix de Guerre in the last war and your mother served her country driving
ambulances in France. The daughter of two such people is hardly likely to be
lily-livered. This was confirmed to us when we learned about your actions in
climbing out of a bombed shelter, with no regard for your own safety, in order to
get help for those trapped inside. All in all, we have a picture of a courageous,
resourceful and compassionate young woman.’

Mariette blushed with embarrassment, and
some indignation at the thought that someone had been watching her every move. Yet
it was also nice to be portrayed in such a good light. ‘I just did what needed
doing, there were no heroics,’ she said. ‘But although I have sailed
since I was a child, back in New Zealand, and I can handle many kinds of boats,
I’ve seen just how rough the sea can get here. I can’t claim to have
that sort of experience. I’d probably be useless to you.’

Ollenshaw made a dismissive gesture with
his hands. ‘I only came here today to get an indication as to whether you were
receptive to the idea. Obviously, there would have to be a more formal interview.
And then, should you pass that, on to training.’

‘Training! I’m not giving my job up here.’

He shook his head. ‘No one is
asking you to do that. What we’re talking about are special missions, a couple
of days here and there. You would not be totally alone on any of them. And you would
come back here and carry on, as if you’d just been away to visit a
relative.’

Mariette was too busy thinking about
what he’d said to make any comment.

‘I should at this point, however,
impress upon you that it is imperative that you tell no one about this conversation.
Not even your loved ones, friends or your employers.’

Mariette gulped. It sounded so serious
and scary but she had claimed she wanted to do something useful, and perhaps this
was it. ‘Fair enough. OK, yes, I am interested. Well, enough to know a little
more.’

‘Then someone will be in touch
with you shortly,’ he said. Picking his hat up off the table, he swept out
through the bar, leaving Mariette open-mouthed in astonishment.

She could hardly believe she’d
just had that conversation. Surely the Secret Service – or whoever it was that came
up with rescue plans – wouldn’t pick on someone like her, who wasn’t
even English? She went into the bar, where Sybil was polishing glasses.

Sybil looked round at Mariette.
‘Well? I’ve been biting my nails down to the quick in
curiosity!’

‘I’m afraid I can’t
tell you,’ Mariette said, making a helpless grimace.

‘See, I told you he was Secret
Service, I know a spymaster when I see one,’ Sybil laughed.

‘You don’t know how close
you are,’ Mariette sighed. ‘But please, don’t ask me any more,
because I really can’t tell you – however much I want to.’

Sybil’s eyes widened with
surprise, but she put her finger
to her
nose. ‘Keep Mum, she’s not so dumb,’ she said, using the words on
a poster everywhere about town.

In the days that followed the visit
from Ollenshaw, Mariette veered from blind panic to thinking she must have imagined
the whole meeting with him. She so much wanted to confide in someone, to get their
view on it. How dangerous would this work be? She could handle a boat, she
wasn’t scared of that, but she was afraid of being shot. And surely, if she
was helping people get out of France, that was exactly what might happen?

It was early June, and the weather good.
She was sure that all over England there were people who would love to be living
somewhere quiet and pretty like Sidmouth, if only as an antidote to a war that
seemed no closer to ending. Rationing, high taxes and the shortages of almost
everything were biting into people’s way of life; while food consumption had
gone down, alcohol and tobacco consumption were up.

It was bad enough to hear horror stories
from all over Europe, North Africa and the Far East, but Mariette had been appalled
to hear, in March, of the 173 people who were crushed to death in Bethnal Green tube
station when a woman tripped and fell on the steep stairs. Those hurrying down
behind her fell too, building up a wall of death. She worried about her brothers in
Italy, and how her parents and Mog were coping. And, of course, she worried about
Edwin too. Now she had something more to worry about – whether agreeing to undertake
these special missions was really foolhardy.

Yet, whether it was foolhardy or not, it
was exciting. Not just because it was thrilling to think that someone had been
impressed by her. Or because she had always wanted to do something useful and brave,
so she could return home knowing she’d done her bit.

But also because of Edwin.

If she’d
been approached a couple of years ago, when she had first met him, she would have
turned it down flat because she wanted to be with him so much, she would never have
risked not being available on the rare times he got leave. Since they had run into
each other that day in the tea shop, they’d only met up about a dozen
times.

It was the same for all wives and
girlfriends with men in the forces. But Mariette was luckier than most because Edwin
was based in England, which meant she did get telephone calls and he was given leave
on a regular basis – even if it was only for twenty-four hours.

If he managed to get down here to
Sidmouth, on a Saturday night, they would go to the local dance, then sit on the
esplanade in the moonlight, kissing and talking for hours. She had met him in
Bristol twice, but neither time had been a resounding success as the guesthouse had
been grim, and it had rained the whole time, so they’d had to shelter in tea
shops and pubs. But then his squadron was moved over to a base in East Anglia, and
that made it far harder to see him.

The move brought new danger for him. He
had lost dozens of his airmen friends during the Battle of Britain, when he was
stationed at Biggin Hill, in Kent. When he was posted to Bristol, he lost more. But
now he was taking part in the huge bombing raids on Germany, and although he made
light of it, acting like it was nothing, night after night many Allied planes were
shot down.

She tried very hard not to dwell on the
possibility of him being one of the casualties, and never mentioned her anxiety
either in letters or on the telephone, but at night, the minute she turned the light
out, fear for him clutched at her insides. She’d lost Gerald, which was
something she’d never anticipated, and she really didn’t think she could
cope with losing Edwin too.

She loved him so
much, and she wanted to see him more often, so she suggested they meet up in London,
the halfway point between them. But he always said he was afraid she might get
caught up in an air raid, and he’d rather know she was safe in Sidmouth.

Then, a few weeks ago, right out of the
blue, Sybil asked her whether she would marry Edwin, if he asked her. She said yes,
without a second thought, even said she’d leave Sidmouth and all the friends
she’d made here and move to East Anglia to be closer to him. Then Sybil asked
her why Edwin hadn’t introduced her to his parents.

Maybe it was because her own parents
were on the other side of the world that she hadn’t even considered it odd
that he hadn’t taken her to meet his. But once it was brought to her notice,
she found herself looking a lot more closely at their relationship.

First of all, she realized that while
she’d been weaving happy little daydreams of them going back to New Zealand
together when the war ended, he’d never actually said anything about sharing a
future with her.

He’d said he loved her countless
times. They were the best of friends, they laughed at the same things, and there
never seemed enough time for all the things they had to say to one another. But he
hadn’t said he wanted to marry her, and they hadn’t become lovers.

While Mariette would have been cautious
about making love, for fear of getting pregnant and then Edwin being killed, she
thought the main reason they hadn’t become lovers was due to lack of
opportunity.

Sybil wouldn’t condone them
sharing a room when he stayed at the pub – she didn’t even leave them alone
for long in the sitting room. But Mariette had always thought that the reason Edwin
hadn’t tried to have his way with her in his car
or in a field, or even suggested they went to a hotel,
was out of respect for her, and a belief that sex outside of marriage was wrong. She
liked that about him, it made her feel safe and cared for.