“I’ve tried tracking his unit. It was supposed to deploy to the north of France to reinforce there, but that was before the German blitz through Belgium.
“We’ve had no news of his unit. I’m sure he was not evacuated at Dunkirk, or we would have heard. Reports are coming in from partisan groups about British soldiers making their way across France to other ports, like you did, but so far, he’s not among those listed as arriving here. The reports also say that some of our men are making their way overland to Spain in hopes of getting home from there, but so far none have arrived, at least none that we know of.”
While he spoke, Jeremy toyed with the three faded ribbons still tied around his wrist. Paul noticed.
“Do you mind if I ask what those are?” Paul asked. “We started to cut them off last night when we cleaned you up, but you wouldn’t let us.”
Jeremy stopped toying with the ribbons and stared at them as if just discovering them. “These,” he said at last, “might have made the difference between whether I lived or died. They were the recognition signal that put me near the bow of the Lancastria, where I had a greater chance of survival. They got me through to Major Crockatt’s office.” He stood and walked to the window, peering out at waning rays of sunlight as dusk approached.
“Jacques tied them there,” he said. “I owe him my life, as I do Nicolas, Claude, Ferrand, Chantal, and Amélie. So many. They are my family now too, as close to me as you and Claire and—" His voice trembled. “And Lance.”
He remained silent a moment, and then continued. “I wasn’t the only one. You’ll hear stories of French families helping our soldiers by the thousands.” He breathed deeply and turned toward Claire, who had just re-entered the room. “Don’t you see?” He spoke in a hoarse whisper. “We must help them.”
“And we will,” Paul said. Rising from his seat, he crossed to Jeremy and grasped his shoulder. “Until you have proper clearances, I can’t tell you more, but I will tell you that England is not defeated, and we will not desert our French brothers and sisters.”
Claire also crossed the room and embraced him. “I’m so glad you’ve come safely back to us.”
“When can I speak again with this Major Crockatt?” Jeremy asked. “I have a message to deliver.”
“He wants to debrief you,” Paul replied. “He’s already notified your unit of your whereabouts, and you’ve been transferred to his organization…”
Jeremy’s eyes flashed in surprise.
“…at least temporarily,” Paul continued. “It was part of an arrangement he made with your headquarters so you could be with Timmy. He wants you to rest up for a day or two, and to be interviewed by a psychologist.”
Again, Jeremy reacted.
“Sorry,” Paul said, hands extended in a placating gesture. “Standard procedure, to make sure you don’t have underlying anger or some other disorder that could endanger yourself or others.”
“I’m solid.”
“I’m sure you are. It’s routine.”
“And what of Mum and Dad?”
“I put in calls to them. I’ll keep attempting to call and checking the arrivals from the islands. The Red Cross is putting the mechanism in place to send messages back and forth. Hopefully, that’ll be up soon.”
34
Jeremy studied Major Crockatt, who in return, studied him. They sat in the front room of the apartment at Bletchley Park, awaiting the arrival of one Lord Hankey. Paul and Claire were both at their jobs, and the nanny played with Timmy on the front lawn.
Jeremy felt his physical strength and mental acuity returning, but his muscles still ached, and he found putting coherent thoughts together difficult. A tray with a pot of fresh tea was on a low table in front of the divan, and the two men held cups of the steaming brew and sipped it.
“Sir, if you don’t mind,” Jeremy ventured, “I’m not accustomed to such high-level attention. I really know nothing about your organization other than I was directed to seek out MI-9, and I’ve never heard of this Lord Hankey, although with that title, he must be something exalted. What’s his interest? For that matter, what is yours? You both came out a distance from London to see me on this grand estate I’m allowed to know nothing about, and I know less about the purpose of your visits.” He smiled. “That said, I’m grateful that you took in Timmy and me. Thank you.”
Crockatt smiled. “You can thank the resourcefulness of your French friend in Saint-Nazaire. He stayed on his shortwave radio until he convinced a loyal citizen to seek out a contact inside British intelligence. Fortunately, my group is new and small enough that we could give the matter some attention. Working out and communicating the identification signal with the ribbons was a little dicey, but, well, here you are.” A look of curiosity crossed his face. “I’m a little puzzled, though. With all the thousands of troops to be rescued, why did you receive such special attention?”
“Luck of the draw, I suppose.” Jeremy sighed. “Nothing more than that. This wonderful French family in Dunkirk helped me. A nephew of the father took me across France, and Jacques, the shortwave operator, was his contact. They had already set up a network, and I was fortunate enough to be their first customer.”
“I get that,” Crockatt said, “but I sense there is more to it. This man, Jacques, has been in touch since the Lancastria went down. He wants news of your safe arrival, and he insists that you have a message for me. Your brother told me the same thing.
“By the way, Jacques moved on from Saint-Nazaire to join a group in Marseille that had already been in contact with MI-6. We haven’t told them your status.”
Jeremy rose and went to stand by the window looking out to where Timmy played. “I’ll tell you honestly. I’m a poor
