“We call those buildings ‘huts,’ but I’m not allowed to say much about them or what we do here,” Claire said apologetically. “That’s a standard rule, which my boss emphasized before agreeing to let us bring you and Timmy to stay out here.”
“Claire’s work is very hush-hush,” Paul interjected. “I’m not allowed to know anything about it either.”
“My job is not any more hush-hush than yours,” Claire responded, bumping against Paul playfully.
“Why were we brought here, in particular?” Jeremy asked.
“That was Major Crockatt’s idea,” Claire replied. “I work here. Anyone can see that you need time to recuperate, and Timmy needs constant care, like any child that age. At my flat in town, that would be impossible. London’s a good hour from here by train.
“The apartment we’re staying in was not being used, and since it opens onto the gardens, there’s plenty of room for Timmy to play outdoors. I hired a nanny this morning to take care of him while I’m working, and I’ll be close by.” She laughed. “My co-workers are mainly women, and they’re all excited to help out. Timmy won’t lack for attention. Your job now is to get back your strength.”
Jeremy smiled, his eyes and body feeling heavy. “We have to find Timmy’s family. He belongs with them.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Paul said. “Major Crockatt’s secretary, Vivian, is checking with the Foreign Office. They’ll have the list of embassy staff. Like all the other departments, they’re still trying to figure out who made it back to shore in France, who got on the ships, and who…” He caught himself, leaving the remainder of the thought unsaid.
Jeremy nodded without replying.
They wended their way back to the apartment. While Claire put Timmy down for a nap in a back bedroom and Paul made tea, Jeremy sat on a divan looking across the landscape through the massive window. Eventually, he dozed, and the cycle of memories that had plagued him while evading across France started up again, now in dreams.
He woke up in a sweat and saw Amélie, her soft smile, her musical voice, just beyond his reach. He stretched his fingers out to touch her, and then realized dimly that he was still asleep, still dreaming.
He came fully awake, breathing hard, perspiration streaming down his face.
Paul stood in front of him, bearing a tray. He stared down at Jeremy. “Are you all right? You were having a nightmare.”
Jeremy closed his eyes, his face pained. “I’m tired.” He sat up, blinking to clear his vision. “I’ll have some of that good English tea,” he said with forced enthusiasm.
Claire joined them. “Timmy should sleep for a while.”
After a time, Jeremy asked, “Who is Major Crockatt?”
Paul set his cup down. “He’s the head of MI-9. That was his office you went to in the middle of the night and his cot you slept on. How did you know to go there?”
In broken sentences expressing disorganized thoughts, Jeremy told them, and spoke of Jacques and Nicolas, and the trek from Dunkirk; of Amélie and her sister and father. “She plays the piano, you know,” he told Claire. “She plays Chopin like you do.”
His siblings listened quietly, sometimes with moist eyes, sometimes aghast at the atrocities he described, and then angered at the abandonment of the soldiers in France. At one point, Claire crossed to the divan and sat close to him, holding onto his arm as the story unfolded.
“It’s not over,” Jeremy rasped when he had finished, his eyes sunken. “I have to go back.”
Claire leaped up from her seat. “What? You can’t possibly go back.” Her eyes blazed. “You’ve done your part. You’ve done more than your share.” She spun around to Paul. “Tell him. Tell him he’s not going anywhere.”
Paul stared at Jeremy, stunned. “After everything you went through to get here, you want to go back?”
Jeremy sat still, his eyes closed, breathing deeply. “Strangers risked their lives for me,” he whispered at last, his lips trembling. “I saw horrors that should never have happened. Hitler’s war machine is ruthless. It’s wanton. It enjoys killing and kills anything.”
Claire sat back down and leaned into him with one arm around his back. Paul remained quiet, speechless.
“They need our help. The French government surrendered. The people didn’t. And if we don’t fight, France and all the countries the Nazis occupy will be raped and ravaged, and then that monstrosity will come here.”
He leaned against the divan and rested his head on its back, his eyes closed. Suddenly, he sat forward. “What happens to the Channel Islands when Germany occupies France?”
Neither Paul nor Claire uttered a word.
“What will happen to them?” Jeremy demanded. As realization dawned, he stood abruptly, red-faced with anger. “We’re not going to defend them, are we?”
From the back of the house, Timmy wailed. Claire rushed to quiet him.
Jeremy sat back down and leaned toward Paul. “Tell me. What is being done for the islands? Mum and Dad are there.”
“The Channel Islands were declared an open territory a week ago.” Paul spoke slowly, reluctantly.
“Left unprotected?”
Paul nodded. “They’ve been de-militarized, all our forces moved out. Somehow, the Foreign Office failed to inform Berlin. The Germans bombed Jersey and Guernsey two days after the decision was made. There’s a big row about that at the highest levels.”
Jeremy’s lips curled with disgust.
Paul continued. “Our government sent ships there to evacuate anyone who wanted to be taken off the islands.”
“And have they come?”
Paul shook his head. “If by ‘they,’ you mean the good citizens of the Channel Islands, seventeen thousand were evacuated from Guernsey in a single week. If you mean our parents, I haven’t spoken to them in nearly a fortnight. I couldn’t get through on the phone, and by now, those lines have probably been cut. Mum’s and Dad’s names have not been listed among the arrivals. I check daily.”
Jeremy
