Chapter nine

‘O

h, he wants me to have a scan and some blood tests. I’m sure it’s a waste of time but…’ Charlotte heard the doubt in her mother’s voice and her heart sank.

‘Dr Rowlands was brilliant when you were diagnosed with breast cancer, Mother, so I’m sure he wants to make sure all is well. Did he…say what might be the problem?’

Annette coughed. ‘Apparently there’s a chance it’s secondary cancer. He says he’s confident it isn’t and I’m just run-down after the surgery and chemotherapy last year. The tests will tell us more.’

Charlotte put her hand over the phone while she drew a deep breath. Oh God, no! Not again…Her mother had gone through hell last year but the doctors had been confident the cancer hadn’t spread.

‘I’m so sorry, Mother. Is there anything I can do? Come up for a while?’

‘No, no, there’s nothing you can do. If only your father were still with us,’ her mother said pointedly, ‘he would be a tower of strength.’

Charlotte gritted her teeth. Apart from the fact her father hadn’t coped at all well with other people’s illnesses, usually disappearing to London if she or her mother were unwell, she had supported her mother through her illness last year. Without any thanks. Unsure why she was bothering, she tried again.

‘If you’re sure. How about my coming with you when you have the tests? So you’re not alone.’

‘Harumph. That will not be necessary, Charlotte. I’m perfectly capable of attending medical appointments on my own, thank you. Wouldn’t dream of taking you away from whatever it is you’re doing these days. Didn’t you say you were out of the country?’ Her voice had regained its usual sharpness.

‘Yes. I’m in Guernsey. If you remember I was over earlier this year to stay at a natural health spa. It did me so much good I came back. But I’m about to leave and stay with a friend here while I undertake some research for…for a book. So it’s not a problem to come over–’

‘I said it’s not necessary! Nothing’s happening yet anyway. The tests aren’t for another week and are perfectly straightforward. It will then be a week or more before the results are back so until then I suggest you continue with this…this research.’ Her mother paused. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were writing a novel set around Lady Hamilton? What has she got to do with Guernsey?’

‘Nothing. I’ve offered to help a friend researching the occupation and–’

‘Oh, never mind! You know I’m not interested in anything like that. I must go, I have to chair a meeting of the WI shortly. Goodbye, Charlotte.’

The phone went dead before she could respond. Angry once again she had been given the brush-off, but also feeling sick with guilt at the possibility of the cancer having returned she wondered what to do. There was obviously no point dashing over now as her mother must be coping all right if she could still manage to boss around the members of the WI. And it might appear a tad melodramatic if it turned out her mother was only suffering from a general malaise. Distractedly she began packing her case, the thoughts tumbling through her mind. Deciding her best option was to ring Dr Rowlands after the weekend, she managed to damp down her concern and finish the packing. Louisa was due to take them both to her house when she finished work at six. Charlotte planned to pick up some wine en route. Tonight she desperately needed to switch off.

Louisa was equally keen to blot out her worries about Malcolm and they ended up opening a couple of bottles over dinner. Chef, on hearing Charlotte was staying with Louisa, had presented them with a fully prepared meal which only needed to be finished in the oven. As they tucked into herb-crusted duck and roasted vegetables they raised a glass – or two – to him.

‘You know, if I could afford it, I’d steal Chef and install him in my kitchen at home. Everything he produces is superb! Mrs Thomas does her best but…’ Charlotte shrugged as she speared a tender piece of duck.

‘Come on! I think your housekeeper’s a great cook. Not on a par with Chef, I admit, but I think you’ve been spoiled.’ Louisa studied her. ‘Have you ever had to cook?’

She shook her head.

‘So how on earth did you manage at uni?’

Charlotte had the grace to look sheepish.

‘Well, I lived in college at Oxford and all the meals were provided. Most students moved out to house shares in the second or third year but I was too comfortable where I was.’ She laughed. ‘Basically I’m rather lazy and not at all domesticated as you’ve noticed, and I’ve been lucky enough to always have someone to take care of that side of my life.’

Louisa’s eyes opened wide.

‘Talk about how the other half live! Don’t tell me you were brought up with servants at home?’

Shifting in her chair, she could only admit it. ‘Yes, I was, but please don’t think I’m some sort of aristo. We’re pretty ordinary, really. My parents happened to come from good families and my mother inherited the Manor House with…with an estate, but there were no titles. It was my father’s charity work which earned the knighthood–’

‘I didn’t know your father was a Sir! But you’re not a Lady, are you?’ Louisa asked, open mouthed.

‘No, I’m not. Or rather, not one with a title,’ she said, feeling as if she should apologise for her background. But she couldn’t help being born to wealthy parents, could she? Although the thought did reinforce her own insecurity about inheriting the publishing company…

After more teasing, she was relieved when Louisa changed the subject by asking if she had been in touch with Andy recently.

‘Yes, to let him know I’m here. Once I’ve made a start on the research I’ll give him a call. He’s so keen to find out the truth about his family but I’m not sure if it will be possible after all this time.’

‘So what exactly are you looking for?’ asked Louisa, between mouthfuls.

‘I’m hoping the Germans kept records of any collaborators or people who actively spied on their behalf. As Edmund, Andy’s grandfather, was accused of helping the Germans, I want to see if there’s any proof. Of course, they might not have left written records but someone must have known who was betraying islanders. Perhaps in return for special favours,’ Charlotte said, reaching for her wine.

‘Sounds a bit of a longshot. I don’t envy you trawling through a load of dusty documents in German. English would be bad enough. What happens if you can’t find anything?’

‘Haven’t a clue! All I can think of is talking to people who were around at the time and see if anyone mentions something useful.’ Charlotte sighed at the thought of the potential difficulties in proving anything after more than sixty years. Filling their glasses with more wine, she pushed the thought aside and took a large swallow. Plenty of time to worry about it later.

By Monday morning Charlotte was not only keen to ring Dr Rowlands but also to start her research. The phone call took priority and she waited impatiently while his secretary put her through. She remembered hoping when they last met in Harley Street it would be for the final time…

‘Charlotte, good morning. Sorry to keep you waiting. How are you?’ Dr Rowland’s unctuous tone interrupted her thoughts.

‘I’m well, thank you. But I’m concerned about Mother. She told me you’re arranging some tests and mentioned the possibility of secondary cancer. Is it likely?’

He cleared his throat. ‘Well, as you know I can’t say too much, but yes, there is a chance the cancer has spread. But it is only a chance; her symptoms could be the result of a number of issues. I’ve ordered the tests more as a precautionary measure, so please don’t worry unduly.’

‘I see. But if it is cancer, Doctor, what’s the prognosis?’

‘It depends and it’s far too soon to speculate. All I will say is we might not be able to operate. But we have a range of treatments available to control any cancerous growth and accompanying symptoms. I do realise you’re concerned, but let’s wait until we have the test results, shall we? I’d be happy to chat again then. And now I absolutely must go, Charlotte, as I have a patient waiting. Goodbye, my dear.’

Hmm, not particularly encouraging, she thought, hanging up. Typical doctor, hedging his bets. And he was so sure the cancer hadn’t spread when the cancer was first diagnosed…Frustrated, Charlotte then rang her housekeeper to check if there were any problems at home before requesting she couriered her laptop and mobile to Guernsey. Another call to her office and she was up to date. Time to visit the archives.

Armed with an A4 pad and pens Charlotte walked across Town towards St Barnabas, the converted church holding the island’s archives. Louisa had explained it was at the top of Cornet Street, not far from Victor Hugo’s house which they had visited in spring. The climb up the steep hill was as good as a workout and she was relieved to arrive finally at the arched entrance of the Gothic onetime church. Catching her breath, she admired the architecture, so different from Town’s church down the hill. A mix of blue and grey granite with featured red brick window arches, a tower and a red tiled roof. Slipping through the inner glass door she was greeted by a woman at the reception desk.

‘Good morning, I’m Charlotte Townsend. I phoned last week to arrange to come and see the Feldkommandtur Verwaltungsgruppe files.’

‘Ah yes, Miss Townsend, we have them ready for you. If you wouldn’t mind leaving your bag in a locker, please?’

Once her bag was deposited Charlotte followed the woman to a quiet area possessing tables and chairs with one solitary occupant. She sat at an empty table and waited while the assistant fetched the files from storage.

‘These are the records for 1944 to 1945 as you requested. If you need anything else, please ask.’

Nodding her thanks, Charlotte opened the box containing the German Field Command’s civil administration papers and hoped her German was up to the task.

By lunchtime her head was spinning and, in need of fresh air and refreshment, Charlotte headed back down Cornet Street to a Thai café she had noticed on the way to the archives. After placing her order she found a free table on the garden terrace with a view over the harbour and out to the islands. Breathing in the salty air tinged with the smells of Thai cooking, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them to focus on the view. It was blissful after staring at faded typed German documents all morning. The weather was still mild and with only cotton-wool clouds floating in the blue sky, Charlotte sat back in her chair and sipped a chilled glass of wine, wondering how much longer the weather would hold. While she was admiring the varied plants and stone eastern sculptures the ticket number for her food was called and moments later she was tucking into a fragrant Thai soup.

‘Hello, Charlotte. Fancy seeing you here.’

Looking up she saw Andy hovering by her table, a glass of lager in his hand.

‘Oh! Hi, won’t you join me? I’m just taking a break from the archives,’ she said, a quiver of surprise – and pleasure – flowing through her.

‘Thanks. So, how did you get on?’ he asked, pulling out a chair opposite.

‘Not great! I’d forgotten how long-winded German officials can be. Talk about dotting the Is and crossing the Ts! I’m still finding my way through the reports and haven’t come across anything remotely useful yet.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘But I’ve hardly started so…’

He smiled. ‘I wasn’t expecting a miracle! I’m only grateful you’re giving up your valuable time to help me–’ Interrupted by the voice over the loudspeaker calling his ticket number he mouthed “excuse me” and went to the counter. Returning with a toasted sandwich he looked preoccupied.

‘I’ve been thinking about how I can repay you for your time–’

‘There’s no need. It’s my pleasure.’

‘Maybe, but I think the least I can do is take you out for dinner sometime. If…if you would like to, of course,’ Andy said, cutting into the sandwich.

‘That’s very kind of you and I’d be delighted to accept. Although you don’t have to–’

He waved his hand dismissively.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said, his mouth curling upwards.

She returned the smile, enjoying a pleasurable flutter in her stomach.

‘I’ve got several commitments already this week but I’m free on Friday. Would that work for you? I could book something in Town if you like. You may have noticed we’re spoilt for choice over here.’

She laughed. ‘Yes, you certainly are. Friday would be perfect, thanks. I’ve not had to eat out yet but Louisa’s told me what great restaurants Guernsey has. Her father’s taken her to most of them, I think. “A Gastronomic Mystery Tour” she called it.’ For a moment the thought of Malcolm still missing caused her to bite her lips. Louisa was so worried…

‘Are you all right?’ Andy’s face was creased with concern.

Charlotte rallied. ‘I’m fine, thanks. But I’d better be getting back to the archives. Will you ring when you’ve booked something?’ She stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder.

Andy rose quickly to his feet and, leaning forward, placed a tentative kiss on both cheeks, continental style.

‘Yes. I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Don’t work too hard, will you?’ he joked.

Charlotte smiled and turned towards the entrance, buoyed by the unexpected pleasure of seeing Andy and being asked out to dinner. And she had enjoyed the closeness of his kiss. But during the walk up the hill she began to wonder if she should have politely declined dinner. Even a thank-you meal seemed fraught with danger if a good-looking man was involved. She would have to be on her guard and remain the cool professional. If it was possible. Sighing, and a tad out of breath, she pushed through the door of the converted church, glad to lose herself in dusty documents again.

That evening a tired and listless Louisa cooked supper, assisted by Charlotte who chopped vegetables more willingly than expertly. The strain of not knowing what had happened to Malcolm was taking its toll on Louisa, and Charlotte ached for her friend, the pain at her own loss briefly surfacing again.

‘Glenn’s emailed the less luxurious resorts as well now. A couple of new ones opened recently and he wonders if Dad might have decided to visit one of them for a comparison. He reckons sometimes the smaller, less glitzy hotels, offer a more personal experience and I think he’s right,’ Louisa said, pushing her hair back out of her eyes as she checked the chicken under the grill. ‘It’s worth a try, isn’t it?’ she turned to Charlotte, who gave her a hug.

‘Course it is. Now, here’s a glass of wine. Try and relax and let’s enjoy our meal.’

Louisa seemed to make an effort and during supper Charlotte mentioned having met Andy at lunch time. And he had invited her out to dinner.

‘He hasn’t! My, I’m surprised. I understood he was a bit of a recluse where women are concerned. Do you think he’s really just re-paying a debt or does he fancy you?’ Louisa asked, tilting her head.

Charlotte shook her head. ‘No idea. And don’t go trying to pair us off as I’m not sure it’s what I want right now. To make it harder, so far I haven’t found anything in the records about collaborators so my research could take a while.’

‘Earning a few more dinners!’

‘Hmm, not exactly what I wanted,’ she said, wondering what it was she did want.

They were clearing away the plates when the phone rang. Louisa went into the hall to answer it while Charlotte loaded up the dishwasher. She heard an exclamation from Louisa but couldn’t hear what she said. A couple of minutes later she came back, with a stunned expression on her face.

‘What is it? Is it Malcolm?’

Louisa nodded and slumped into a chair. Charlotte embraced her, praying it wasn’t bad news.

‘Glenn’s found him. He’s staying in one of those new hotels I mentioned.’

‘What a relief! But that’s great news, isn’t it?’

Louisa stared at her.

‘But he’s not alone. He…he’s with a woman!’