We'll meet again

Most of the soldiers who came to us stayed for two or three weeks.

Many of them seemed just like boys who had been thrust into experiences of horror and were somewhat bewildered by it; but in the main they were light-hearted and prepared to enjoy life.

I remember one rather serious young man in whom I was particularly interested because he had been in the R.F.A. and had trained at Lark Hill; it occurred to me that he might have known Jowan.

He was not badly hurt. He had a leg wound and walked with a stick which he hoped in a few months he would be able to discard.

One day I found him in the gardens alone and I joined him.

I said: "You will be leaving us soon.”

"I shall always remember this place," he told me. "It has been a happy time here. I feel so restful ... away from it all.”

"Scarcely that," I replied. "There's a lot of activity in the air and then the continual watch for invasion.”

"Ah yes, that's true, but where could one get away from this ghastly war? You and the young ladies, and Mrs. Jermyn, of course, have helped a great deal.”

We were silent for a while, and then I said: "I told you my fiancé was ... over there?”

"Yes," he said.

"It is some months since Dunkirk now... do you think... ?”

"One can never be sure. Some of them were taken prisoner. Others may be on the run. There are some good brave people over there.

They hated this patched-up peace and are working underground. I believe they help people get across the borders into neutral territory... Switzerland, for instance. The lucky ones could manage to get home ... in time.”

"What of the soldiers who were taken prisoner?”

"Even the Germans should respect the rules of war and must treat prisoners according to them. But it would mean waiting until the war is over.

"Do you think it is possible for people to escape?”

"Everything is possible.”

"Do you really believe it is reasonable to go on hoping? Please tell me the truth.”

He said solemnly: "Yes, I think it is reasonable to hope. How can we know what is happening over there?”

I did feel a little comforted after that, and I had a conviction that somewhere Jowan was alive and that he would come back.

I could not sleep that night. I kept thinking of Jowan in some prisoner-of-war camp in France... in Belgium... in Germany. It could be in any of those countries. Or perhaps he had escaped capture.

Perhaps he was in hiding with some French people who were looking after him and would get him to Switzerland.

And as I lay there, I saw a sudden light flash across the sky. I got out of bed and looked out to sea. It was dark, but as I stood there I saw a beam of light. It flashed and was gone in a moment.

In view of the invasion fears, I felt I could not dismiss this lightly.

At the same time, I remembered the laughter we had aroused through our shoal of fish which we had thought was an invading force. I was cautious.

I slipped on some clothes and went out. Everything was still. I could see nothing as far out as the horizon. I waited a while and went back to bed, but not to sleep. I had definitely seen those flashes.

When I went down to breakfast I saw Gordon and told him that I had seen flashes of light during the night.

"Strange," he said. "Could have been lightning. I don't think any invading force would flash lights to warn us of their arrival.”

"No. That's why I did not raise the alarm. I did not want to appear ridiculous again. It was all quiet, so I just returned to bed.”

"It was almost certain to have been lightning.”

But it seemed that others had seen the lights. We were still keeping our watch on the cliffs, though it seemed less likely now that the Germans would try to invade.

We were, according to reports, showing a strong resistance in the air, and the battle which must be won before a landing was attempted was not yet over. Unlike the French, the British had shown they were determined to fight, no matter at what cost to themselves.

All the same, we had to be on the alert.

There was a great deal of talk about the lights.

Naturally there were exaggerations that the lights were signals and there was the inevitable conclusion that there were traitors amongst us who were sending messages to the enemy across the sea.

Charley came home from school one day with a bruised face and a black eye.

Nanny Crabtree seized on him.

"Fighting again!" she cried. "You'll get really hurt one of these days, young fellow. I tell you, I won't have it. What was this all about?”

Charley looked stubborn. "knocked me 'ead on a post," he said sullenly.

"Don't give me that," said Nanny Crabtree. "You've been having a scrap, that's what.”

She showed extreme displeasure, but Charley refused to talk and he was in disgrace. I was surprised to detect how much he cared; but he put on that defiant, almost insolent, look which always maddened Nanny Crabtree.

"I can't do with a child that gives me that look," she explained.